Ties That Biind Part Three

Lady Rienne's rise to power continues. Just how does she steal Baptiste from her cousin? The next installment of the Chevalier prequel, Ties That Bind Part 3 is on sale now on my website exclusively. http://www.sharaazod.com/ebook/ties-bind-iii.html

Do You Feel a Connection?

Have you ever read a story or a series of stories and become so connected to the characters that you feel as if you know them? This was a thought running through my mind recently as a I finished a book where not only did I connect with the characters and fall head over heels in (book) love with the hero, but the hero had brothers! Maybe the premise is to your favorite soap opera. If you don’t currently watch the soaps, I’m sure most of you grew up with parents who did. The twists and turns, the failures and successes, the love and drama, the soaps can pull you in so far that you find yourself speaking about the characters as if they live two doors down from you. As if every other Sunday you’re going to each others house for a cookout.

Some books can do that for us. The women become our friends and we connect with them because we see ourselves in them. We understand the challenges they are facing, whether they are falling in love for the first time, healing a hurt caused by a former lover, or fighting for a life—a love—that is like nothing they’ve ever felt before. We often times cheer for them as they find courage and strength, while at the same time yelling at them to “just give him a chance.”

With these stories, the hero is inevitably someone who epitomizes the type of man, husband, lover, father, we all wish for. While he may have his flaws and failings, they can be forgiven. Why? Because he loves his family more than his own life and he would die to protect them. Because he is strong enough and badass enough to make sure it never comes to that. And when he finds the woman of his heart, he recognizes this and will do whatever it takes to keep her. These are the type of men that draw us in and keep us connected to their life long after the story has ended.

I have a few books in library that impact me this way. I can picture the characters so vividly that I can build a “movie” as I read the story. This is a sign of a great storyteller. Not necessarily someone who is simply good at putting words to paper and writing a book, but a true, blue “storyteller.” They build and weave this other reality and while we all recognize doesn’t really exist, the hopes and dreams of the characters seem real to us and we never want to let them go.

Do you feel the same way? Have you ever felt a bond with a story or character that you felt as if you knew them? Tell us about it.

Ciao!

Reana Malori

Keeping the Heroine Real

As a writer of paranormal, fantasy, and science fiction you may find the title of this blogpost strange. It’s not really. Most of my audience are women, and the heroine must be real—even if her environment may be purely fiction.

Don’t worry. None of my heroines come from anyone real, but her behaviors must be. If you read Reana’s blog post about what books make it to her keeper shelf, you noticed the first entry into that list is not a weak heroine.

So, how do I keep each heroine realistic?

I attempt to think in terms of her being a real person. Take for example, Sienna of Cook’s Choice. I thought long and hard about her background, her family, the fact that she’s bi-racial, that her father died and that she lost her mother earlier in her life. All of these factors become her profile and I began to visualize her as a real, breathing person—something Sienna’s very proud of. From there she guides my hand as to what she will and won’t do.

The same holds true for each of my characters—both hero and heroines, and I attempt to allow them room to talk to me. That is easier said then done sometimes.

But here’s how I keep them realistic:

1. She must have a history and a background including family, friends, and employment.
2. She must have a voice and something to say that women will identify with.
3. She must be ripe—Ready, Intelligent, Poised, and Excited to tell her story.
4. She must be entertaining—at least to me.

This is a rough list of what I mentally go through in order to create a realistic character.

Do you agree? Did I miss something important? Which of my characters do you think are the most realistic?

Best,
RaeLynn Blue

The EPIC Awards are Coming!

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE / PERMISSION TO FORWARD GRANTED




Twelfth Annual EPIC EBook Competition (July 15-Aug. 15, 2010)
EPIC’s ebook competition, the oldest continuing competition honoring ebooks and the e-publishing industry, is a premier event for authors and publishing houses. It opens for submission entries on July 15, 2010, accepting entries through midnight (CST) August 15, 2010. Entries must be e-published between June 1, 2009 and May 31, 2010. The Competition Guide will be on EPIC’s website (www.epicauthors.com) on June 1.

Judges consist of active EPIC Members and guest judges, all of whom are either published authors or publishing professionals. Entries are judge in two rounds, with finalists announced during the first week of November 2010.

The 2011 New Voices Young Writers Competition (Aug. 1 – Oct. 20, 2010)
EPIC’s membership supports ebook education within public, private, and home school environments with this popular global competition for young authors. The New Voices Young Writers Competition opens for submissions from August 1, 2010 through October 20, 2010, and introduces young authors to the exciting world and possibilities of ebooks and e-publishing - the wave of the literary future.

We invite middle school- and high school-aged authors, ranging in ages from thirteen through eighteen years old, to submit essays, poems, and short stories in this growing competition. If you are a young writer, with a desire to fine-tune your craft with constructive feedback from industry and education professionals, please consider entering our competition. The guidelines will be found on the New Voices website: http://newvoicesyoungwriters.com/ in July 2010.

If you are a parent, teacher, or librarian, you may request brochures by email from epic.competition.chair@gmail.com. Please supply your name, mailing address, best email contact, and contact phone number as well as the quantity you desire. Mailing takes about 3 weeks, so please be patient.


EPIC's 2011 Art Competition (Nov.1 – Nov. 15, 2010)
Also in its twelfth year is a competition that honors the finest selection of cover art for electronically published books. Details will be available on the EPIC website (www.epicauthors.com) the first part of October 2010 with entries accepted from November 1, 2010 through November 15, 2010.

Covers go through two rounds of judging by EPIC’s membership, with finalists (in category) awarded the ARIANA before moving on to the final round. The ultimate winner, the artist whose work receives the most membership votes, is celebrated with EPIC’s highest honor for art - the QUASAR.

EPICon Conference (March 10 – March 13, 2011 in Williamsburg, Virginia)
All awards, other than those for the New Voices Young Writers competition, will be presented during EPIC’s 2011 EPICon conference's gala award ceremony March 13, 2011 in Williamsburg, Virginia. The New Voices Young Writers awards ship to winners, and their indicated schools/libraries, within six months of EPIC’s conference.

# # #

EPIC – Electronically Published Internet Connection is a non-profit, professional organization for published and contracted ebook and print authors that was established to provide a strong voice for electronic publishing—the major publishing marketplace of the future.

Welcome Back Kimber, Part 3

Chapter 3

            No woman had ever filled his arms the way Kimber did. No woman could ever make him hard as steel, just by being there. He had been hard since she flung open the door. The bulky shirt she had worn earlier was gone, leaving her in the flowing skirt and a camisole. As he had suspected, her body was a dream. Full breasts pressed against the silky fabric, outlining nipples he remembered as being full, a little on the long side, and when she was excited, so erect and sensitive, perfect for suckling. There was a womanly sway to her walk that hadn’t been as pronounced when she was younger. The promise he’d only glimpsed at in high school had been fully realized- and then some.

            He still wanted her. Had he ever stopped? It had taken three years for him to start dating again after her father had shown up at his parent’s house with the baby, claiming not only did Kimber not want the burden of being a single parent, but that she didn’t want to raise a mixed child. That had hurt worse than anything ever could. How many nights had they talked on the phone or in each other’s arms planning how many children they would have one day, what they would name them, the type of home they would build? And yet, there had stood Dr. Knowles claiming Kimber had rejected all of their hopes and dreams. That she had left knowing she was pregnant, with every intention of getting rid of the child as quickly as possible.

            Holden, in his childish hurt had believed him. He had swallowed every lie and let it foster a bitter hatred at the woman he thought had threw his love back in his face. He should have known better. In a way, he had. Maybe he had never admitted it to himself, but Kimmie wasn’t the type of woman to lie about her feelings. She had always been an open book to anyone willing to read. Dr. Knowles had never been willing. He had wanted to create his daughter in his image. He wanted to mold her in to his ideal of a woman. And Kimmie had been far too loving and kindhearted to push her father away. She had always tried to be the daughter Dr. Knowles had wanted her to be, but had always fallen short in the older man’s eyes. And Holden had always hated him for that. Yet, he had taken their daughter and in essence, kept the baby away from her mother. He was every bit as guilty as Dr. Knowles in a way.

            As much as he loved his daughter, there would be no little Kimmie without the big Kimmie. He hadn’t realized how much he missed her until now. He hadn’t realized how empty his arms had been until she had dove on him. Over time, there had been other women. At first, he only dated women who were the polar opposite of Kimber, trying to drive her out of his mind and heart. That had been a disaster. It didn’t matter what color the woman was, her profession, her background or upbringing. There was only one woman his mind and body craved. Sex itself had become an empty bodily function; so much so, Holden hadn’t had a physical relationship in two years. He couldn’t take it; the cold emptiness he felt afterward. It didn’t matter how long he actually dated before trying to start a physical relationship; it was always wrong somehow. He couldn’t bring himself to sleep all night with anyone. He couldn’t shake the eerie feeling he was being unfaithful.

            In more ways than one, Kimber’s return was a Godsend. He hadn’t realized how much until the truth smack him around a little. He was never going to love any other woman the way he loved her. Holden was becoming colder and colder to the outside world. Only his daughter could make him smile. He felt isolated, cut off from those around him. His entire life had been his daughter and his job. There was no room for anything else. Not because there was no time, but because he could not bring himself to join the outside world. He had fewer and fewer friends, he was curt and standoffish on the best of days. He was freezing from the inside out.

            One look at Kimber and his heart began to thaw-no, more like the frozen casing had scattered completely apart, leaving the organ bleeding and raw, but just as hot has it has always been for her. His resentment and acrimony that had been a mainstay in his life for so long started to slip even before he had seen her again; in Dean Whittaker’s office, he had known what awaited. He had starting to feel again. He had started to hurt again. Only Kimber could ever take him to heights of pure ecstasy or drag him down to desolate despair. Oh, how he loved this woman-still.

            This was it for him. She always had been it for him. Holden had loved Kimber most of their lives, had realized it when they shared their first kiss at thirteen in his garage. They had never even considered dating anyone else all throughout high school, being attached at the hips as best friends and evidentially as lovers. It had taken three woefully awkward tries before losing their virginity to one another on the beach after Homecoming their senior year. They had explored their burgeoning sexuality together; reading about techniques and then trying them, until they found what the other liked the most. Up until the time her father snatched her out of school and moved them away, they had spent every available second together.

            No doubt the reason for Dr. Knowles taking the position in Boston was because he had finally noticed how close she and Holden had become. Little did any of them know about the baby.

            What kind of fool was he not to realize when Dr. Knowles was a lying snake? He was still having a hard time coming to terms with that.

            As soon as their bodies collided, a long dormant switched was flicked on in his psyche. He had only meant to hold her, to comfort her in some small way. But feeling Kimber in his arms again, Holden’s carefully erected walls came crashing down.

            His hands twined in her hair of their own accord, pulling her head back and her lips open. Nothing could have stopped his mouth from descending on her soft pouty lips, not even the sharp crack of a hand across his cheek. Had she resisted, he probably would have backed off. It might have been the hardest thing he would ever have to do, but he really would have.

            But she didn’t resist. Instead she went all soft and pliant in his arms, receiving the probing of his tongue with a soft sigh. Damn, she tasted so good! He didn’t just kiss her, he took full possession of her mouth, her lips, her very breath with all the pent up frustration he felt from their forced separation. No other woman had ever tasted like this.

            “Oh God, Kimber, I missed you so much,” he murmured against the soft flesh of her throat as his lips traveled everywhere his frantic hands could bare her flesh.

            She had on too many damn clothes! Pure need pooled in his gut, crude, gnawing hunger demanding to be fed crawled underneath his skin. He tore off her clothes, ripping anything that could not be easily discarded. White noise filled his ear drums, the center of his focus only on her, only her.

            “Holden, Holden…”

            Her mournful cry tore at him, spurring him on. It was primitively base, the need to be inside her, but Holden could not shake the feeling if he didn’t bury himself deep, become a part of her in a way denied for far too long, he would explode. His lips never left her body, traveling across the smooth skin of her face, back to her neck, her shoulders, and returning to her lip. He wanted to howl in victory when he felt her small hands tugging on the fastening of his pants. He wanted to assist her, but he couldn’t stop touching the woman who had always ruled his heart and mind.

            When she finally freed him, Holden’s mind blanked.

            Acting on pure instinct, he rolled them over, parting her thighs with the width of his body. He drove his throbbing length deep inside her in one stroke, burying himself to the hilt.

*****

            Kimber didn’t know what she expected when she opened her eyes to find Holden looking down at her, but she never dreamed of this! One touch, that was all it took and she was transported back in time. Warmth, hope, love, all these feelings she had never hoped to feel again, not like this, came back in a rush. It was almost as if she had never left. He completed her now so much it was as if they’d never been apart at all.

            But this was not the slow, gentle lover of her youth. Holden the man was forceful, demanding, and he felt so damn good inside her. His face contorted to look more primal than she’d ever seen, he powered inside her, shaking her body and soul. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. All the words she would’ve loved to say came out in primitive grunt and moans. Later she would allow regret and allow distrust to seep back into her consciousness. This wasn’t real, not anymore. As for now, all she wanted to do was feel. He was thicker than she remembered, filing her to the point of pain. Her inner walls clamped down on the strangely hard, yet smooth shaft, demanding that he move- do something-anything to relieve the burning ache.

            “Please, Holden!”

            She should hate him for making her beg, and tomorrow she probably would.  Right now she needed him to drive into her over and over, so hard she forgot her name. Forgot the cold emptiness that waited for her after he left. And he would leave. She couldn’t take it otherwise.

            “Look at me, Kimber.”

            Her response to the fierce growl was immediate, sending tiny shivers of sweet, agonizing anticipation down her spine at what she saw. When had he grown so commanding? His eyes glittered with an emotion she couldn’t identify. His chiseled jaw was set in determination; his mouth slightly swollen from his own bruising kisses was drawn into a grimace. He was gloriously male. So much more than he had been at eighteen. She didn’t know this man that was inside her now. This wasn’t the sweet, gentle boy she loved with desperation. This man was so far outside her scope she felt a tingle of fear, even while her body melted for him, opening completely for his exploration. How was possible to feel so deeply for man she didn’t even know? This was not her Holden. A slight niggling doubt echoed in the recesses of her mind. Oh, God, was he married? What the hell was she doing?

            “Don’t you dare try to leave me,” he rasped while holding her head still so she couldn’t look away. He seemed to have read the doubt and fear in her eyes. As if to reinforce his order, his hips rocked into her without withdrawing first. The broad head of his penis brushed against her g-spot, sending bursts of lights to dance in front of her open eyes.

            Her fingernails dug into the solid flesh of his arms as she canted her hips, desperate for more.

            “Do I have you attention now?”

            All Kimber could do was nod. Did he ever!

            “I am so sorry, baby. I didn’t know. I should have-” Funny how his voice had gone all deep and smooth. No less male, but no longer growling. There was earnestness in his gaze that made her want to believe. If only she could. “I can’t make it up to you, but I swear I will spend my life trying.”

            No, he wouldn’t. She could never allow that. She would not know where to begin to try and handle this man buried inside her. And now was just not the time to contemplate such things. The last things she wanted right now were to have this conversation. And thankfully she didn’t have to. Their bodies seemed to have taken over for the both of them, urging them to continue the mating dance as old as time.

            Whatever reply Kimber could’ve possibly come up with was lost in the urgency of his thrusts. Fear, anger and even love drove her to push back just as hard, arching into his carnal embrace. More, more until she was no longer woman and he no longer man. They were one, wrapped in a blanket of bliss, surrounded by sensations too raw, too base to survive it. She thought she might’ve screamed, she couldn’t be sure. Her body shattered, sharp edges of ecstasy ripping her to pieces before slowly melting her back together, while but forever changed. 

            “I love you, Kimber.”

            How she once longed to hear those words. How she had dreamed of that same whisper, said at a time just like this. But that time had long since passed, and those dreams were never going to come true. Her heart couldn’t take it. So she said nothing, working up the courage to do what she knew needed to be done.

Welcome Back Kimber, Con't

Chapter 2

            She couldn’t breathe! Kimber’s head swam from lack of oxygen as she tried desperately to gulp in enough air. If Tawny hadn’t had a firm grip on her arm she would have wandered aimlessly around this damn monstrosity of a building looking for a way out until she just crumbled wherever she wound up. By some act of God, Tawny managed to get her outside and to her car. How she had held in the scream that welled in her chest she would never know. For once in her life, she didn’t want to be dignified or poised. She want to rant and rave, tear out her hair as she pummeled the unbelievably asshole standing like an idiot upstairs.

            Did he think she would never find out? Did he really believe he could have kept the knowledge of their child from her forever?

            He almost had. Chills could not begin to explain the ice that her skin had become.

            Nine years! Nine fucking long, hard, empty years she had lived with shame, agony, and defeat. Kimber had never believed her father when he said her child had died at birth. Although drugged and disoriented, she had remember the wail of a newborn, had reached out to touch the miracle that she had struggled to birth right before her world faded to black. She had spent every waking moment trying to find that baby. She had harassed every adoption agency from New York to South Carolina looking for some sign, some clue that her baby was still alive. She had never known if it had been a boy or a girl. Her father never let up on his insistence the child had been born dead, but Kimber had known in her soul that wasn’t true.

She had almost willed herself to die in the beginning. Believing she had lost everything, she hadn’t wanted to face another day without Holden or their baby. It was days later when her brain began to clear from the drugs they had given her in the tiny private facility that she began to suspect something wasn’t right. The nurses hadn’t been able to look her in the eye, the doctor had refused to talk to her, reporting directly to her father who would not even allow her the dignity of being examined in private. As soon as she received her high school diploma, she had left her father’s house and pursued her degrees with single minded determination.

            Kimber had never known her mother. The mysterious Cathy Knowles had died when she was three years old. Kimber had always resented that. In her young, fanciful mind, Kimber had convinced herself her mother had died to get away from her father’s autocratic, distant ways. But Cathy had left her daughter a way to precious freedom, leaving her more than enough to pay for her own education in a trust her father couldn’t touch with enough left over to live more than comfortably on.

Although she had used the money to pay her tuition and various bills, she had worked two, sometimes three jobs to pay for private investigators. She had no time for anything beyond school and finding her child. Dozens of private investigators and more than a couple of restraining orders later, there had been no trace of the child she had born, dead or alive. When her search had been exhausted on the east coast, she had decided to come back here, back to where it had all begun.

Not once had Kimber ever considered Holden would still be here, teaching at the same college where their father’s had been colleagues and sometimes research partners. Holden had wanted to go into physics, which meant he would have gone to a school like M.I.T. or somewhere similar. The last place she would have ever guessed to find him was teaching as a Literature professor. He had always teased her on her love of reading what he considered fluff. What the hell was he doing as the fucking department Chair of the English Literature Department?

            Dean Whittaker had hired her without a personal interview, for which she had been honored and grateful. Now she realized she should have looked into the English Lit Department more carefully. Usually cautious, Kimber had only wanted to come home, to confront, and then bury her past. She had thought perhaps to begin to live again. She had planned on visiting Holden’s parents, who had always been like family to her, getting his address, then writing a long confession letter explaining what had happened. She thought he would be married with children by now, probably far too involved in his own life than to give her confession no more than a cursory once over, maybe a sad smile. That ass had been here the entire time, raising her child without so much of a thought to get in contact with her. He could have found her if he had tried. Hell, she had damn sure found him and Lord knows she was far from trying to see him again!

            If he hadn’t been here, she would never have known her child was alive. That though soothed some of her anger. She had a little girl! A little girl with toasted almond skin and her father’s laughing bluish-gray eyes. She was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at her. Almost. She simply had to stare; she had to imprint her daughter’s face in her mind for all time. She lived too long with the ghost of the child could be like; the reality was so much more than anything her imagination could’ve conjured. If Holden hadn’t burst into the office suite she would have probably still been staring at the sight she had despaired of ever seeing. Kimber had been afraid to reach out and touch the little girl; scared that if she dared, she would disappear into a puff of smoke.

            How could Holden had kept knowledge of their daughter from her like that? After all that had happened, never once had Kimber blamed him. She had always held him up in her mind on a pedestal. He had always been her ideal man, the main reason she had been physically incapable of having a normal relationship with any other since high school. She had never believed her father when he had told her Holden had cursed her name and washed his hands of her as soon as he had dragged her to live in Boston. She just knew Holden loved her. After all this time, she had suspected he would be married with children, but she had been secure he would at least have some fondness in his heart for her.

            But how could he? How could he have felt any regard for her at all? Surely he had to know she would be desperately looking for her child. He’d known her well enough to know she would’ve never willingly given up her own flesh and blood had she been able to help it. Why would he keep the knowledge her baby was safe and loved with him? Why be so cruel knowing all Kimber had ever wanted was the love and security of a real family- the one thing she’s never had herself.

            It was punishment, pure and simple. For whatever reason, Holden’s failure to disclose he had full custody of the child they’d created together was punishment. But why? For leaving him? Surely he recognized she had had no choice! She had been seventeen when she found out she was expecting. Her father had whisked her away before she had to the chance to tell Holden about her pregnancy. Was that why he had done this to her?

            It was not like the Holden she knew. As Tawny drove toward the small condo she had purchased, pieces of the puzzle slowly fell into place. There was no way Holden could have gotten custody of their baby without the assistance of her father. While she had been kept sedated, having fallen apart after they had told her baby was dead, Reginald (she refused to refer to him as Father, even in her thoughts) had had more than enough time to fly back to California with the baby. He had no doubt informed Holden and his parents that she didn’t want the child. Lies, half-truths and deceit dripped so easily from Reginald’s lips. Holden should have seen it as a lie. Out of all the people in the world, Holden should have known her heart and mind. There wasn’t anything she hadn’t shared with him, no secret desire she hadn’t confessed. But he had believed reginald, and he had blamed her. Or had he?

            So why had he named the baby after her? She didn’t believe Reginald had told Holden she had died. He hadn’t been shocked to see her. Surprised and frantic she had already seen Kimber, or Kimmie as the little girl told her everyone called her. But he hadn’t been shocked. That meant he had believed whatever line of bull Reginald had fed him, and it wasn’t that she was dead.

            Why? Why had he had so little faith in her? What had she ever done to make him believe she would be so callous?

            He believed it because he wanted to. The thought came back to her over and over again. He hadn’t wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. He hadn’t cared enough to see for himself.

            “I’ll make you some tea,” Tawny offered as they entered her small abode.

            Kimber looked around at the boxes stacked along the bare white walls. The starkness of the place matched her mood perfectly. She didn’t feel like having company right now. She just wanted to go her room and climb into her cold, empty bed to like her wounds. She would decide on a course of action later, right now, she just needed to get rid of the throbbing ache in her head.

            “Look Tawny, thank you for bringing me home, for being there for me…” Kimber closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t form polite words to explain her need to just be alone.

            Fortunately, she didn’t have to. Tawny knew her well enough to get the message.

            “I’ll call you later,” Tawny sighed, kissing her on the forehead. “Lock up behind me, okay?”

            A brief nod was all Kimber could muster as she walked her friend to the door. Tawny paused, and then turned to face her once more. Kimber knew what was coming, but she just didn’t want to hear it.

            “Maybe you should, I don’t know, give him a chance to explain.” Kimber repressed the urge to shake her head, to yell and scream at her friend that Holden didn’t deserve the chance to explain jack shit. He had never afforded her the same courtesy, why the hell should she?  She managed to hold it inside, but just barely. “You both have been through some heavy shit, you know? You were both lied to. Try to remember that.”

            Yeah, well, she’d certainly never blamed Holden before today. She’d never doubted him or his love. More the fool she.

            Tawny didn’t wait for an answer, for which Kimber was relieved. She couldn’t give Tawny the reassurance she would be fair. Damn it, she didn’t want to be fair. Who had been fair to her? No one! Not Reginald, not Holden, not even Holden’s parents who had always seemed to love her. She would not be magnanimous; she would not be the bigger person. She was the one who had walked around for nine years with a giant fucking whole in her heart-no, in her soul. She would not be the one letting everyone else off the hook this time. It was time that the world owed her for once.

            Kimber closed all the drapes and curtains, turned off all the lights, and then lay on the couch staring at nothing. She allowed the pain to course through her, accepted the anger with open arms without thinking too deeply about the implications or reasons. Evidentially, the pain began to subside to where she just felt numb. She pushed everyone and everything out of her heart, allowing room for only one other than herself.

            Kimber Ann Bainbridge. The precocious nine year old with the bright eyes and equally bright smile was the only person she found that she gave a damn about. She loved the little girl with a fierceness that surprised her. She didn’t know her daughter at all. How was it possible to feel such immediately love and protection for a little person she didn’t even know? Yet, she did. She loved that little girl with a ferocity that scared her.

            Holden could try to keep her away from her daughter if he dared. She would destroy him. There was surprisingly no anger in the thought, just cold determination.

            She was so deep in thought that when the doorbell rang, she didn’t think twice before swinging the door open without looking and returning to her station on the couch. She had expected a return visit from Tawny, especially since she had studiously ignored the ringing telephone. She was no doubt worried.

            “Do you always just let whoever is on your door in?”

            Oh, God that voice! Why did that voice bring her so much pain still? Because he betrayed you. It hurt, it hurt so bad, her stomached cramped and her head throbbed.

            “Why are you here?” It was the correct thing to say, although she knew very well why he was here. He was here to make amends, to try to make it right. Well, it was too late for that. About nine years too late.

            “Please look at me, Kimmie.”

            The soft plea was far too close for her liking. And the nickname, the same one he had given their child. As much as she didn’t want to open her eyes, she couldn’t seem to keep them closed.

            Time had been kind to Holden. Whereas he had always been handsome to the point of almost being beautiful; now, he had ruggedness that enhanced his natural looks. He was incredibly virile; his muscles had thickened, making him appear stringer, more manly. There was a wisdom in his blue-gray eyes replacing the optimism that had once been there. And pain.

            The pain offended her. What the hell did he feel pain about? He hadn’t lost a child. He hadn’t spent untold sleepless nights in tears, wondering where that child was, or even if that child even existed. He had held their baby whenever she cried, seen her first smile, heard her first words. All of these things Kimber had been robbed of. How dare he feel pain!

            “Why are you here?” Contempt laced every word, surprising Holden a bit.

            Good! Did he think she would welcome him with open arms?

            “I thought you gave her up.”

            Just when she thought the anger had run its course, seething resentment came back with a fierceness even she was unprepared for. The grief and pain crashed into her so hard she couldn’t breathe. She wanted to hurt him, to make him feel at least a tiny amount of the anguish she felt. But there were no words, no way to convey her need to see him aching like she ached. Maybe then he would understand the waking nightmare she had been living through. Instead of slapping him this time, she lunged, throwing her body on top of his. Never had she hated the way she hated right this second. Never had she wanted to wrap her hands around someone’s throat and choke the living shit out of them.

            But as soon as their bodies collided, memories returned in a rush, washing over her like a tidal wave.

            He didn’t bother to try to protect himself; he just cushioned her fall when they landed on the floor, his arms surrounding her with a gentleness she hadn’t felt in so damn long. She froze, unable to hit him, as was her intention. When his large hand began caressing her back, she was a goner. No one had touched her with gentleness in nine long years. No one had held her so gently, or spoke as softly as he did now. In fact, the last time she had been held, it had been Holden who held her.

            “Damn, Kimmie I missed you so much.”

            Kimber hadn’t believed she had tears left, yet they rushed her eyes before she could choke them back. Somewhere in the deepest recesses of her heart and mind, she had always fostered some hope she would one day find her way back into these arms again. Surely allowing herself just a few minutes wouldn’t do any harm?  

            “I hate you.” The words were muffled because she had buried her face in to his chest, taking in his scent. His cologne was woodsy and crisp, and oh, so manly she felt her core heat and melt. But then, Holden had always smelled so good, so perfectly male.

            Would it feel as good as it used to?

            No! No, she could not allow things to progress that far. She had to establish some boundaries. In a minute. Just one more minute.

What Makes a Book a "Keeper"?

What type of story will draw a person in, connect them to the characters, and make them never want the story to end? It's an old age dilemma of not writing the same type of storyline every time. It's a difficult thing to do. In all honesty, I struggle with this question on a regular basis and I still don't have the answer. Having the right balance of strong vs. sensitive characters and fantasy vs. realistic plots is an ongoing process and we never stop learning and growing.

However, as a reader, I know that I want to be moved in some way when I sit down to enjoy a book. If a story can make me laugh out loud, then it's a keeper. If a story can make me cry....oh man, I might read it the very next day, just because I loved it so much. However, if a story makes me angry, then I'll be the first one to throw it in the trash, across the room, delete it from my computer, etc. Whatever it takes to remove it from my presence. I've read quite a few books in my life and there have been some that have made me so angry I've resorted to....well, let's just say they made me angry. So, while I don't know everything about books, writing, etc., there are a few things I do know:

1. A storyline with a weak woman will never be on my keeper list.
2. A storyline with a weak man will never be on my keeper list.
3. Even if the man is strong, but he lets the woman walk all over him as if he's a doormat...no, I'm not feeling that.
4. With interracial plots, if you have family members or friends who are still so ignorant, they hold on to stereotypes as if they're the gospel...you should keep that story to yourself.
5. If the story isn't a paranormal story, keep it realistic. Reading to escape is all fine and good, but I hate to waste time or money on a story that is so far-fetched, every other thought I have is, "are you kidding me?"
6. An Aalpa male is never "seen, but not heard"...and that's all I'm going to say about that.

Any other key points you consider when deciding if a book is a keeper?

Ciao!

Reana Malori