I'm Sick...

Just letting you all know

So if you don't here from me for the next little bit

It's because I'm sick

I finally succumbed to the virus my whole family has

So not fun

I hope to be back soon

Guest Blogger ~ Lisabet Sarai

The Eyes of Bast by Lisabet Sarai

Paranormal/shapeshifter erotic romance

Approximately 54 pages

Published by Books We Love, Ltd.

May, 2014

Amazon Aus

Amazon UK

Amazon USA 

Serial Love

The Eyes of Bast was an experiment. I created the novella as a serial, writing and posting a chapter each month as part of my regular website update. I've never tried this approach before. Although I'm usually more of a plotter than a pantster, I had very little idea about what would happen next. Each month, I'd reread the previous installment, to help me maintain continuity, and then I'd just sit down and write whatever came to mind.

The process was remarkably liberating. I could set my imagination free.

The bulk of what I write is targeted for a particular publisher and often, a specific call for submissions. I usually have a predefined theme and both a minimum and maximum word count. These constraints shape my creative process. My internal editor is constantly active. Would the publisher object to this language? Was I taking too long to get to the clinch? Was my take on the theme close enough to satisfy the requirements?

With The Eyes of Bast, I was writing for my own pleasure – and of course that of my readers. The story could be as long (or short) as it needed to be. I could write sweet or raunchy, depending on my mood.  I could introduce plot twists as they occurred to me, without worrying too much about plausibility.

I was writing purely for the fun of it. What a novel concept!

I'm actually pretty pleased with the way the tale turned out. I especially like the dramatic ending, which borrows a bit from horror tales. And I'm delighted by the depths my villain ultimately revealed. I have a problem writing bad guys (or in this case, bad girls). Delphine Montserrat is one of my better evil-doers.

I hope my readers agree.

Blurb

Trust your heart. Follow your dreams.

Shaina Williams' grandmother bequeathed her that wisdom, along with a old pendant from the Islands, carved from an ocelot's tooth. When instinct tells Shaina to visit the feral cat trap she'd set in Central Park, she listens to that inner voice, She discovers she's caged a magnificent black tom, but the cat inexplicably vanishes after she tends to his wounds. Seeking the errant feline, Shaina encounters instead a handsome stranger whose slightest touch sets her body on fire. As the day dawns after a night of ferocious passion, her mysterious lover is forced back into his true shape - the tomcat she'd rescued.  

Born a cat, Tom was transformed into an unwilling shape shifter by a sorceress who craved a human plaything to satisfy her perverse lusts. Centuries old and irresistibly powerful, Delphine Montserrat will stop at nothing to find her runaway familiar. Shaina vows to do whatever is necessary to defeat the vicious but seductive witch and save the man she believes is her soul mate – even though it might mean losing him forever.

Excerpt 

 Go check the old elm. I swear, the voice was clear as crystal in my mind. Lack of sleep, I told myself. Or stress. The cage is still in my apartment. There won’t be anything there. But the urge to go back to the park just wouldn’t let go.

 Trust your instincts. With a sigh, I turned and headed for the park, pulling my mace out of my purse as I walked.

 The sky was still light enough for me to see shapes and shadows, even under the trees. As I’d expected, area beneath the elm was empty, the grass trampled from my previous visit. Of course no cats revealed themselves. If there were ferals around, they’d be hiding in the underbrush, wary of my scent and the sounds I made, despite my attempts to move quietly.

 Tom wasn’t afraid of you. The thought made me ache. He’d been such a gorgeous, affectionate cat. I hoped he was okay.

 “Hello.” The voice was male, low and throaty. I jumped and whirled around.

 A man stood behind me, a fairly young man with sleek, dark skin and a wide, shy smile. Although his body appeared to be fit and muscular, he held himself in an awkward manner, as if he had some subtle handicap. His arms hung at his sides, his hands clenching and unclenching as though he didn’t quite know what to do with them.

 I gripped my mace more tightly, although he didn’t appear at all threatening.

 “Um – what are you doing here?”

 “Nothing, nothing...” He shrugged and scratched the curly black locks that covered his head. “I heard your voice. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

 Had I spoken aloud? I returned his smile, still uncertain whether I should trust him. “I’m fine. Just taking a walk.”

 “It’s not safe here after dark, you know.”

 His earnest tone made me chuckle. I held up the can of mace. “I can take care of myself.”

 Worry furrowed his high forehead. “That won’t help against some of the things that come out at night.”

 A chill shot through me. I shook it away. “I was just headed home anyway.”

 “Good. You should be careful.” His smile returned, melting my last vestiges of suspicion. He pronounced his English with a precision that made me wonder if he spoke something else as his native language. It wasn’t exactly an accent, but I could tell he wasn’t a native New Yorker.

 “What about you?”

 “Oh – I know my way around here,” he answered. He ran his fingers through his curls and arched his back a bit, as though stretching. Despite that odd awkwardness, he was lithe and graceful. A brief pang of desire shot through me. “And I have excellent night vision. Exceptionally sharp hearing, too.”

 I couldn’t figure out why, but something about him felt familiar. “Have we met before?” I asked, then cringed, realizing it sounded like a pick up line. “I mean – um – I don’t mean…” Hot blood climbed into my cheeks, though the shadows were probably too dense for him detect my discomfort.

 His bold laugh rang out in the growing darkness. “Maybe we have met,” he said. “I live in the neighborhood. Do you?”

 “Pretty close,” I answered, alarm bells sounding in my head. No matter how handsome and charming he was, I wasn’t about to give him my address.

 “Well, then, you never know. You said you were heading home. May I walk with you?” He took my arm without waiting for my permission.

 “Um – actually—” His touch stopped me cold. It drove out rational thought. As if someone had turned on a faucet, hormones poured into my blood. My nipples tensed and my lower lips grew plump and slick. His fingers on my bare forearm were tipped with fire. I gasped, staring up in wonder at his strong, even features, overcome by his imminent maleness.

 I wanted stretch out in the grass and pull him down on top of me. I was dying to feel his weight on my chest, his hardness probing between my thighs. Skin on skin was what I craved, with an urgency I’d never experienced in my all my twenty-eight years.

 His nostrils flared and I knew he’d caught the ocean scent rising from my sex. I could smell it myself. My saturated panties and jeans were no barrier. He grinned, revealing teeth so white they gleamed in the twilight gloom. I shuddered with need, imagining those teeth tearing my flesh, and stumbled on the gravel path.

About the Author

When I was a little girl, my dad would make up stories for my siblings and me, fabulous sagas about ghosts and monsters, magical races with mysterious powers, heroes on impossible quests, hidden treasures awaiting only the most courageous seeker. I blame him for my lifelong fascination with the magical and miraculous.

Now that I'm grown up, I create my own tales of wonder, weaving in generous portions of human desire with its potent enchantments. In my paranormal tales, love works the most powerful magick.

Find Lisabet Here

Blog: Beyond Romance

Website: Lisabet Sarai's Fantasy Factory

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Playing Catch-Up

Today I've started on the edits for The Connelly Chronicles 1: Family Connections... for Totally Bound. I can already see how much smoother the storyline is heading and I can't wait for you all to get a chance at seeing the new and improved version.

I absolutely love it when you learn something new off of an editor and suddenly, the whole thing starts making sense... so in case I forget to say so later -- Thank you, Faith B-B. You explain things in such an easy way that I can totally understand.

In other news: I've finished writing Lancaster's Way 2: A Different Way Of Seeing (in longhand) I'll type it up as soon as I get the TEB edits done... I've already lined up some beta readers so I get all the idioms right... Definitely no fuck-ups this time around.

Everyone at my house is sick... except me. I hope they all get over it soon as I don't have time to get ill. Did I remember to tell you all I have my stitches out? In two weeks I go back to have a thorough going over to see if there are any more lesions that need removing... fingers crossed there aren't.

Em's Turn

4 Songs that are stuck in my head.

I figure I mose well share them with you. 

Enjoy!!!

My Thoughts On Becoming A Writer...

I'll soon be starting on edits for The Connelly Chronicles 1: Family Connections... I love this story so I don't mind... Bit of useless information... when I first started writing this book I think it was about 1996... I was a young single mum who had way too much time on her hands

This story started as a conversation between me and my niece Leigh Walker (she's 2 years younger than I am)... any way getting back to the story... at that stage the story was just called Ray & Viv.

I never wrote full time because I had so much going on with my daughter...doctors... sports...school. But, at night when she was in bed I needed something to do so during late-night phone calls with my niece we would start talking about my characters and how I saw the story going... At the time Leigh was also writing a paranormal book, but in the end her life took her in a whole other direction (she became a high school teacher)

After a while I put the book away thinking -- what the hell am I doing? I'm never going to be a real writer so why bother? I wasn't depressed or anything - I just was at a cross roads in my life... I still wanted to do something in the writing area and decided to become a journo... until I realised I really didn't want to be asking people all about their private lives. So I went back to writing.

In 2010 I met someone one line (get your minds out of the gutter) James Adkinson later became my beta reader and we have been friends ever since. I even went all the way to America to meet him. he was the one that talked me into submitting something... instead I wrote my first ever fan letter to Carol Lynne and asked her if she would possibly have time to read one of my stories... The amazing thing was she took time out of her busy schedule to read The Lines Of Marsden 1: Rules Are Meant To be Broken... I then sent that story into MLRPress--Why them I hear you ask? I will not admit to or deny that I may or may not have been stalking Ethan Day. Actually I have many books released through MLR they are an awesome company to work for.

Totally Bound was not the first place I subbed The Connelly Chronicles 1: Family Connections... The story had previously been published by the ill fated Silver Publishing (if you want all the goss -- you'll have to go on waiting as I won't be the one losing my temper over everything that happened.) I'm just thankful that someone else saw the potential in the story and was willing to take me on.

The truth is I love writing... I always have... the best present anyone could ever buy me is biros/pens and loose leaf paper. I dream about my own stories... OR... I dream about future stories I'd like to write. I'm the type of person who finds it hard to plot out a story. I much prefer to sit in front of the computer and write whatever falls out of my head. Writing de-stresses me... I find it calming to forge a new world and new characters.

I'm just lucky to have a family that understands my insane need to write... Hell, when we bought our house the first thing my hubs did was build me an office... since then he has closed in part of the front veranda and added on a library for my many books -- both research and pleasure reading.

I have attended a few author conventions such as Meet & Greet with Mark A Roeder (USA)... GRL (Albuquerque; New Mexico; USA)... OZMMMeet (Sydney; Australia)...  and I'm possibly attending the Mid-Summer Festival (Melbourne; Australia) next year. I'm not a huge lover of crowds, but they were so worth attending because I got to meet so many wonderful and fascinating people.

I think if you're meant to write then it's as easy as breathing -- Do I think I'm the greatest author out there? Hell No! I write because in my mind if my stories touches at least one person then I have done my job. I personally think I get better with each book I write... The depth of my imagination is endless -- who knows where it will take me in the future.

SENTINELS OF VARNUSE: When The Walls Come Tumbling Down #17

# 17.

Brayden frowned at his father. Everything they’d done to try and escape had failed. Now his father had found out the real reason they were still alive. Just the mere thought of the truth was enough to send Brayden into a panic attack—this couldn’t be real… it just couldn’t

“They can’t have my baby... it’s mine” he said as he wrapped his arms protectively around his stomach. “They’re not taking another piece of Quin away from me... this baby is all I have left. I’ll kill them all before I let that happen.”

“They won’t take your child.” His father laid his arm gently around his shoulders. “We won’t let them.” Brayden never protested as his father wiped away the tear that ran down his cheek.

“Quinlan will come for me he won’t let them keep me.” Brayden shuddered. He had to believe that with all his heart. “Quinlan will find me.”

Thayer hugged him tighter. “I’m sure that he’s out there somewhere right now heading in this direction. Why don’t you tell me about him?”

Brayden knew his father was just trying to distract him from what was happening around them, but a part of him needed to talk about Quinlan; because if he talked about him, then maybe it would work as a homing beacon and bring them back together.

“Quin has always loved me... right from when we were little.” Brayden turned and smiled sadly at his father. “He used to always tell me how when we grew up he was going to take me away and protect me from the world. Protect me from Ormand. Quinlan hated the way Ormand would find ways of hurting me. He always did it in a way that no one would ever find out, but Quin always knew. I never told him, but he always knew.”

Shifting his father rubbed his back as Brayden continued. “Quinlan said I didn’t have to be king when I grew up if I didn’t want to be. He told me we could go away, just the two of us, and live together forever and always.” Brayden sniffled. “I gave Quin my heart from the first moment I saw him in that tree looking over the wall at me. He had heard me crying and wanted to see if I was okay. He climbed down and just held me tight to his body while I cried.”

“Why were you crying?” His father asked quietly.

“Ormand had twisted my arm up behind my body until it was hurting so much. I was only five and Ormand was a lot stronger than me even back then—hell, he’s still a lot stronger than I am. When Ormand came searching for me to hurt me some more, he was surprised to find me with a commoner. We didn’t know at the time that he was Lord Macallister son.” A faint smiled crossed Brayden's face, “Quinlan got so angry, he just stood right up and punched Ormand in the nose. Ormand ran away crying. Then Quinlan told me I belonged to him, and no one was going to hurt me ever again.”

Thayer chuckled, “I remember that day. When asked if he was sorry, Quinlan said no and he would do it again if Ormand continued to be a bully. I was so proud of him for standing up for you.”

Brayden grinned, “Remember when Lord Macallister had to travel and he took Quin with him. Before they left Quin presented me with Ingrid, and told me she was going to be my bodyguard while he was away.”

Thayer laughed into the dank prison cell they occupied. “I remember what a fierce little thing she was. She followed you everywhere, even took to sleeping on your chamber floor of a night. Whatever happened to her?”

“She’s Quin’s personal bodyguard now. She guards him as she once guarded me, except now she sleeps in a room joining ours and not on the floor.”

“Her family were always good people.” Thayer mused.

“Yes, her family raised Javier. He was blinded in the attack. It was only recently that he and I have been reunited.”

“Blinded,” it fell as a whimper from his father’s mouth.

“Yes… but now he can kind of see. After he changed for the first time, his sight came back, but he can’t see any colours. And now, his eyes look like cat’s eyes.” Brayden bit his lower lip in thought. “Javier’s a lot stronger and a lot braver than I am.”

“I can’t believe you’re both still alive. For years they’ve told me you were all dead. That even Fane had been killed upon his return. I thought your mother was now in rule over Panthea. It was only in this past year I’ve learnt the truth. One of the guards told me she was killed on the day that I was captured. She was betrayed by those who had sworn loyalty to her.”

Brayden began to tremble. “I think Uncle Fane killed Mother. I was only half conscious, but I remember him striking her body over and over.” He screwed up his face in concentration. “I think I remember her laughing and him crying.”

“Fane is your father just as much as I am.” Thayer said softly.

Brayden sighed, “It is hard to think of him as such because he has been my uncle for as long as I can remember. I can’t change my way of thinking over night. Remember, he held me prisoner for ten years, which is something that is hard to forget.”

“He was a good man—is a good man. What he did to you, he did out of love. We had promised each other on the nights of yours and Javier’s births that if anything was to ever happen to either of us then the other would take over the care of and protection of the children.”

“I know... believe me, I know that. In my heart I know that, but my head is fighting against that very same knowledge.”

Braden and his father both turned at the sound of the door opening. Brayden gasped as he saw who came to stand before them.

“Hello, cousin... uncle.” Ormand grinned down at them both.

Brayden shuddered at the madness he saw in his cousin’s eyes.

New Cover ~The Connelly Chronicles 1: Family Connections

Isn't it awesome!!!