Tuesday Teaser 8/16/16

Yes, I have a short teaser for you from my current Work in Progress! Before we get to that, let me get some updates out of the way. The book was going to come out on October 13 as part of Paige Tyler’s Dallas & Rescue Kindle World. I’m sorry to say I’ve withdrawn from the October launch and switched to the January 19 launch. This has a been a crazy summer. Between learning to live with diabetes, driving for days to take my mom to her family reunion, and working extra hours at the day job, writing has been slow.

The diabetes is being managed much better now. I’ve stopped taking the metformin (per my doctor’s orders). Since then my numbers have been a teeny bit high, but still mostly within the “normal” range, with 3 or 4 days in a month creeping up to the high  “pre-diabetic” range. It hasn’t gotten above pre diabetic, though, so my doctor is very pleased.

Also a reminder about the newsletter giveaways. I will be doing a contest this coming weekend. This one will be a box containing a hand knit scarf, a few books from authors Karen Marie Moning, S.E. Smith, and of course, me. I’ll tuck in a little bit of swag too. The entry form will be included in the next newsletter. 🙂

Ready for the teaser?  This is Dusty Wolfe and Isabel Ybarra. Enjoy!

“I think it’s cooling off,” he remarked. “Let’s sit under that tree. The grass looks soft.”

The grass was soft. She stretched out on her back, looking up at the sky, with him beside her. “This is nice,” she murmured, watching a fluffy white cloud. “That one looks a little bit like a horse.”

From the corner of her eye she saw him squint. “More like a cow. A very pregnant cow.”

That made her laugh again. “I guess it does.” Her smile turned nostalgic. “This reminds me of afternoons with my grandmother. We used to lie in her backyard and watch the clouds. I miss her.”

“When did she die?”

“The year before I enlisted.”

“It sounds like you must’ve been close.”

“Yes, very.” She sighed. “My parents were killed in a car accident when I was eight. Inez was sixteen, Bernardo was twenty, and Eduardo would have been twenty-four. Eduardo had already been married three years then, and he and Carmen had the first of their boys. I remember everybody talking about where Inez and I would live. Eduardo wanted us to live with him, but he wasn’t as well established financially at that point, and Carmen was busy with little Ricardo, so we went to live with our grandparents.”

His hand covered hers where it lay at her side on the grass. “Is your grandfather still alive?”

“Yes, after Abuela passed, he went to live with Eduardo and Carmen. He’s ninety years old now, but he’s still the head of our house, and as sharp as a tack. His manners are old-fashioned, especially toward women. Sort of courtly, you know? But every now and then he’ll cut loose and you can tell he’s a Marine. You and Brutus should meet him sometime. He fought in the Pacific in World War II. He doesn’t talk about his service very much, but every now and then he will, particularly to a fellow Marine.”

“I’d like to meet him. He sounds like quite a character.”

“He is. He takes a lot of pride in the family history too.” She turned her head to cast him a quick smile. “My great, great, great grandfather was Ricardo Ybarra. I suppose you’ve never heard of him.”

“No, I don’t think I have.”

“He was an outlaw on the border between Texas and Mexico back in the mid-19^th century. When he was a little boy, he and his mother were captured by the Comanche, and he lived with them until he was in his late teens. Then his father, Don Alejandro, got them back from the Comanche, but he never truly was assimilated back into Mexican culture. They say he was wild. The family stories — which might, or might not, be true — say that he would kidnap the wives and sisters of wealthy Texans and hold them for ransom at his hacienda south of the Rio Grande.”

“Romantic story.”

“Very,” she agreed. “He fell in love with one of those captives and married her. But he never reformed.” She laughed. “I don’t know if that’s something to be proud of, or ashamed of. Quite the family history, huh?”

He turned his head to smile at her. The grass was green against the tumbled black of his hair. “That’s nothing. My family believes we’re descended from werewolves.”

“Werewolves? I thought you were Native American.”

“Lakota,” he confirmed. “Supposedly, we’re part a family line called the Wolf Clan.”

“I didn’t know that Indians had werewolf stories. You learn something new every day, don’t you?”

He was still staring into her eyes, and she stared back, mesmerized by their beauty and their intensity. He raised up on one elbow and leaned over her. “We don’t tell anybody else that story. Please don’t repeat it.”

“I won’t.”

The moment stretched, each of them staring at the other in silence. After a long pause, he whispered, “I’d like to kiss you.”