I’m on deadline so will make this a short post, but wanted to answer some questions I’ve been getting from readers. First of all, my story in the NIGHTSHIFT anthology is the first of a new series for the Aphrodisia erotic romance line from Kensington. Dream Catcher, which takes place in 1992, introduces MacArthur Dugan, a brilliant young post-grad student working on computer software at the dawn of the personal computer era. He meets a mysterious woman who will change his life–a woman from the future. DREAM BOUND, my first full length novel in the series, picks up in 2012.

The blurb for DREAM BOUND reads: Mac Dugan has spent his entire adult life and millions of dollars creating the technology he needs to rescue his beloved Zianne–a creature of another world and another time. Now, he has his team of brilliant telepaths, his amazing array of satellite receivers and a plan. But is Zianne still alive, and will she and her people ever escape their captors?

When a man’s dreams are this big, anything is possible

DREAM BOUND is all about Mac bringing together his dream team of young men and women with telepathic abilities who will help him rescue Zianne and her fellow captives. The book I’m working on now–and the one I really have to get back to–is DREAM UNCHAINED. This story takes place over just a twenty-four hour period and covers the actual rescue. I’m really enjoying the writing process–the first book practically wrote itself, which is always a good sign. This one has a lot more tension and I’m doing my best to keep both the hotter than hot relationships every bit as engrossing as the rescue itself. Times like this I find myself sitting at my computer and just grinning at the screen. Damn I love my job!

I’ve also had people asking me about CrystalFire. Yes, it’s the final book in the DemonSlayers series, and if you’ve been reading the series, you’ve been following the trials and tribulations of Willow and Bumper. Willow is the tiny little sprite whose body got eaten by the demon king, but she managed to save herself by hiding her consciousness inside Bumper the dog. Bumper is a cross between a pit bull and a poodle. Not the brightest bulb in the box, but she’s got a good heart and she loves Willow so much she doesn’t mind sharing. But in the opening of CrystalFire, the demon king attacks and zaps Bumper. However, his magic goes awry and Willow ends up with a woman’s body with Bumper’s consciousness lodged inside HER brain!

The one who’s there to rescue Willow is SO not hero material–Taron is a scholar, a celibate by choice, who’s suddenly the one designated to fight the demon king, but he’s as busy fighting his suddenly awakened libido as anything else, when Willow sets her sights on the sexy Lemurian. This book was flat out fun to write, and I know you’re going to love what happens. Pre-order now, or watch for it in April, and I’ve got first chapters of all my books up at my website: www.katedouglas.com

And the last bit of info, which is really sort of old news but I announced during the holidays and a lot of you missed it, and that is that I’ve signed a contract for a new series, SPIRIT WILD, which is my second generation Chanku series. Yep, the kids are all grown up in a world that knows shapeshifters exist. The first book on the schedule is ‘TO LOVE A DARK WOLF’ which is Lily Cheval’s story.

Now, if you’ve got any other questions or comments, please leave a comment even if it’s just to say “hi,” and I’ll be choosing a winner for a book of your choice (if it’s one I have) or a stuffed critter. I’ve still got dogs and wolves, and I’ve now added squirrels to go with Dream Bound–that’s a picture of one up above. BUT, I need to get back to work, so I’ll check in later.

It’s getting close. I don’t usually get all goony (my grandson’s description, which seems totally apropos) over the release of anthologies–for some reason, they usually seem to come out when I’m in the middle of writing the next book, and my attention is divided, but this particular anthology introduces a new series, and I’m really anxious to see what readers think of my whole concept. I mean, this is off the wall, even for me.

Dream Catcher, the story in this one, will introduce you to Mac Dugan, Nils “Dink” Dinkemann, and Zianne. Mac and Dink are best friends forever, but Zianne? Well, to begin with, she’s not quite human. WAY not quite human. Not only is she not from Earth, she’s not from Mac’s same time…and then it gets complicated.

This first story takes place in 1992 and is the set up for the next two novels. The first one, Dream Bound, will come out in July and I’m working on the second one now, which will wrap up the story line. Since I gave you a taste of Dream Catcher last time I blogged, I’m going to give you a look at Dream Bound, so you’ll get an idea of what’s coming next.

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Dream Catchers Book 1–DREAM BOUND

The set-up: It’s 2012–twenty years after Dream Catcher takes place. Mac Dugan has brought together his “dream team,” a group of six young men and women with abilities even they aren’t aware of. The goal? To find his missing love and rescue the remnants of a dying race held captive aboard an alien star cruiser. This is the meeting where Mac introduces his new team members to each other, and explains just a bit of their purpose:

Sometimes a shared problem created its own camaraderie. “I finished my masters in computer science at Stanford the year I turned twenty.” Rodie sensed they wanted to know more. Was that why she felt a need to explain more than she would under normal circumstances?

But then, what was normal anymore?

“No one took me seriously. I didn’t know whether to blame my age, my gender or my indeterminate race.” She’d grown tired of explaining. No she wasn’t black. Wasn’t Asian. Wasn’t Hispanic. She was just a mutt. A perfectly happy mutt, if the idiots who needed a label would just leave her alone.

“Or all three.”

She glanced up at Morgan’s dry comment, unsure whether he was teasing or agreeing or just making fun. “Or all three,” she echoed. Screw him. She didn’t really care.

He stared at her a moment. One corner of his mouth was quirked up in what could have been either a smile or a smirk. He held her gaze a moment and then turned toward Mac Dugan. “So. Are you going to tell us why we’re here and the others aren’t?”

Mac had been quietly watching them. Intently, the way you might study a lab experiment, was Rodie’s first thought. The silent buzz in the room grew stronger.
Mac nodded toward Morgan. “I am. I’m guessing you’ve already figured out some of the main points in your favor. All of you are incredibly intelligent. Off the charts intelligent, if you want the truth. You’re all powerful type A personalities. Driven, creative, unafraid of trying new things. You’re all leaders, which could create a problem, except I’m the alpha wolf in this little pack and you will defer to me.”

“And why, may I ask, will we be doin’ that?” Finnegan’s question had a whole lot of Irish along with an obvious thread of steel running through it. Rodie sat back so she could better observe Dugan’s reaction.

“Because, Mr. O’Toole, this is my project and my money. My ideas.” Dugan grinned at all of them. Rodie almost laughed out loud at the feral, almost wolf-like look of the man.

“And because you signed a statement agreeing I was the one in charge and that all final decisions would rest with me when you filled out the original questionnaire. If you don’t like it, you’re welcome to leave.” He folded his hands on the table and his gaze slowly swept over each of them.

No one moved.

“You’ve also got creative minds and you’re physically healthy. That was important—no genetic health problems or weaknesses, no communicable diseases, venereal or otherwise. Your psychological profiles show no sign of major neuroses or other mental issues. Plus, the women have all agreed to implants for birth control, which you ladies will need to take care of by tomorrow. We have a clinic here on the main campus.” He shrugged at the surprised looks from the guys. “What do you expect? I’m not about to put six sexually active, extremely attractive young adults together for six months and risk unwanted pregnancies.”

He continued with his assessing gaze moving slowly over the six of them. “There’s another thing you all have in common. It’s probably the second most important ability.”

Now he focused on each of them in turn. Rodie held his gaze when he got to her. A shiver raced along her spine, a sense of knowing. Of some weird connection to the man, even though she’d never met him before.

And she knew. Just like that, as clear as glass, she knew what trait they shared. “You tested us for psychic awareness, didn’t you?” She almost laughed as Dugan’s smile grew. “I bet we all scored really high on the extrasensory perception part of that questionnaire.”

“You were just in my head, weren’t you? Telling me that we tested off the charts for ESP.” Cameron’s sulky attitude was gone. He laughed, staring open-mouthed at Dugan. “You just used telepathy with me.”

Everyone at the table was grinning, including Rodie. She almost snorted when Cameron’s head jerked one way and then the other, catching everyone’s amazed expressions. Then he narrowed his gaze on Dugan again. “You talked to all of us. You were in our heads at the same time. How?”

Mac Dugan leaned back in his chair and grinned right along with them. “The same way you’re all going to be able to communicate with each other. Each of you have strong telepathic abilities. You merely lack the training.”

“How does this fit in with the telescopic array you’ve built, assuming this entire process has to do with the array?” Rodie could still feel the mental touch of Mac Dugan’s words in her mind. It was a disturbingly intimate sensation. Maybe she wasn’t dealing with the assault or the boyfriend incident as well as she’d thought, but those things happened weeks ago. Why was she thinking of them now? “ESP and big satellite dishes? I don’t get it.”

“First of all, yes, this is all about the array. As I said, telepathic ability is the second most important trait you share. The first is more personal.” Once again his gaze caught each of them independently, and the corner of his lips tilted slightly. “You are all, to one extent or another, sexually active and sexually very creative, very free about your sexuality. Mr. Black lives openly as a bisexual. He’s had a number of short-term relationships with both sexes over the years. Kiera, you’ve been married, briefly. You’re now divorced, but you said you identify as lesbian, maybe bi. You, Mr. O’Toole, wrote on your application that you consider yourself entirely heterosexual. You also identify yourself, and confirmed it a few moments ago, as a sexual predator.” Dugan chuckled. “Pretty ballsy statement, if you’re serious. Point being, you all have robust sex lives and according to the tests we’ve run and the forms you’ve filled out, amazingly detailed sexual fantasies. With the telepathy, you have the ability to project those fantasies.”

Lizzie snorted. She covered her mouth with her hand and glanced at Rodie and Kiera. “And with the array, we have the ability to project those fantasies into space.” Laughing harder, she snapped her fingers. “Now that should bring any horny aliens in the universe racing our way. Wicked amazing!”

Laughing so hard she could barely catch her breath, Rodie glanced at Lizzie and started giggling again. This was so not what she’d expected, and it was obvious she wasn’t alone. All of them were grinning and cracking wise.

All except Morgan. She caught the frown, sensed his anger as he settled his chair back on all four legs and slapped his palms down on the table. A little shiver raced across her spine. Damn but the man was sexy. Even more so when he was pissed off.

“You are fucking kidding me.” He glared at all of them, growling in that deep, sexy voice of his. “You’ve pulled all of us together based on our ability to broadcast sexual fantasies? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Actually, Morgan, it’s not. Hear me out.” Mac Dugan shoved his chair back and stood up.

Rodie sensed the alpha wolf had just raised his hackles and growled. The laughter stopped. Every single one of them sat straighter in their chairs and paid attention. Rodie took a quick glance around as another shiver snapped across her spine. Even Morgan appeared to have backed off.

The easy smile was gone from MacArthur Dugan’s face. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and his gaze flicked from one to the next. And then, in a few terse words, he changed everything Rodie had ever thought about space and life on other worlds—and the power of the human mind.

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So, there ya have it. I’m already working on the second book in the series, but I do hope you’ll take a chance on the NightShift anthology. Besides–it’s not just my story in that thing–I’ve read the whole collection, and Crystal Jordan and Lynn LaFleur have written fantastic shifter stories that I know you’ll love. Leave a comment and you’ll have a chance to win a copy of NightShift. And in case you’re wondering if I really do give away a lot of books, I added up what I’ve mailed out so far this month, and it’s already at almost forty books to newsletter and blog contest winners–so your chances are damned good!

Enjoy!

Okay. I like to think I’m a relatively intelligent woman, but then something will happen to remind me that I ain’t nearly as smart as I thunk I are…

Those of you who follow my work might be aware of the fact that I write more than one series. Just this past week I did page proofs for CrystalFire, the final book in my Kensington Zebra DemonSlayers series, wrote another novella for my online Demon Lovers series, finished writing the first full-length novel of my Kensington Aphrodisia Dream Catchers series, and signed a contract for another series called Spirit Wild, which is also with Kensington, though I’m not sure yet which imprint. That one launches my new series of stories about the second generation of Chanku. And yes, for those fans of Wolf Tales, Lily Cheval’s tale is first.

And if you haven’t figured it out, her father Anton Cheval is a wonderful hero but he’s a real pain in the ass as father to an almost thirty year old woman, a powerful wizard in her own right.

But I digress…okay, so like every other busy author, I’m juggling a lot of stuff. There’re the website updates, the blogs I need to get written, the three to four hours’ worth of email I handle every morning, promo stuff for my publisher, Twitter, Facebook, and—oh, yeah—writing. But let’s go back a couple of weeks ago, to October 18…

I’m really moving along beautifully—Dream Bound, the first Dream Catchers novel, is half way done and due November 15 and I’m right on schedule. The story has turned out great, I’m in love with ALL the male characters and since this is Aphrodisia, they’re uniformly hot and much more fun to write than they really should be.

And then the contract for Spirit Wild comes and I’m reading through it to compare some of the terms to the contract for the Dream Catchers series. I pull out the older contract and happen to glance at the due date for the book I’m writing now.

Ever discover you’ve really REALLY screwed up? I mean, not just a little mistake, but one of monumental, “oh, I am SO fu&^ed” proportions? That feeling where the stomach doesn’t just flip over, it sort of takes a nosedive and hits the ground?

Right there, in bold print—due date says OCTOBER 15. Not November. It was, at the time, already three days late. And only half done. So I immediately contact my editor and relay my stupid move of the day, and luckily she’s running behind and said the November 15 date will work. But that means no wiggle room AT ALL for getting this sucker done.

But ya know, sometimes the muse smiles on those who are truly desperate, and this story took off until it was moving along at mach speed, and as long as I managed to keep track of which imaginary world I was working in (not all that easy when moving between worlds, ya know?) it went great. I think it’s going to be a terrific novel.

But the one that introduces Dream Bound is coming out in a few more weeks, on November 28 — Dream Catchers is my novella in the upcoming NightShift anthology. The setup for the excerpt below is fairly simple—Mac is the hero of the story, a computer geek who has fallen in love with a mysterious woman. His best friend, Dink, is gay—after a fight with a mysterious group of men, Dink goes to Mac for help. Mac knows his buddy has always loved him, but Mac’s not into guys that way…until he and Dink and Zianne spend an amazing night together. This scene is that sometimes but not always, awkward “morning after.”

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Excerpt from Dream Catcher in the Kensington Aphrodisia NightShift Anthology:

Mac heard someone moving near the bed and slowly opened his eyes. Dink had just showered. He had a towel wrapped around his slim hips and was going through Mac’s closet, obviously looking for something to wear that wasn’t covered in blood.

There was no sign of Zianne. “Where ya goin?” Mac shoved himself up and leaned against the headboard.

Dink smiled at him, and there was so much love in that look that it made Mac feel guiltier than ever. “I’ve got a freshman class to cover for the professor. It’s almost eleven.”

“Did you see Zianne leave?”

Dink shook his head. “She was gone when I woke up.” He sat on the edge of the bed next to Mac. “That was really something, wasn’t it?” His soft laugh was filled with a sense of wonder.

Mac swallowed back a flip answer. “Definitely.” Damn, he was so screwed. “Dink? You know I love you. You know I want to do this again, but…”

Dink tilted his head and shot a lop-sided grin at Mac. “I know, Mac. You’re never going to feel the same for me that I do for you. I get that. I’m okay with it. But last night…this morning.” Slowly he shook his head. “It’s more than I ever imagined. I do hope we do it again. You okay with that?”

“You know I am.” He smiled at Dink. Then he looked closer. Where were the bruises? The split lip? The black eye? “Dink? Do you have any idea how you managed to heal so quickly? I mean, you were a mess last night and now…” His voice trailed off as Dink quickly stood.

“It was Zianne. I don’t know how, but when she touched me last night…” He shrugged and moved away from the bed. “I dunno, Mac, but if you ever figure out her story, I want the details. Hey, I’m going to borrow some of your stuff, okay? I need to get moving or I’m gonna be late.”

Obviously Dink wasn’t ready to talk about it. Mac nodded. “Meet me at Sloan’s this afternoon, okay?”

Dink nodded. “I can’t get there ‘til after four. That work for you?”

“Yeah. That’s cool.” Mac watched as Dink grabbed a shirt and a pair of jeans and quietly slipped out of the bedroom. Then he flopped back down on the bed. Zianne. All the questions he had always came back to her, but why? And why, when she was near him, did he quit asking?

Shit.

She’d left last night to find something that was supposed to help him with the mess surrounding the grant, but she’d never mentioned a thing when she came back. Of course, none of them had done much talking. “Who am I kidding? The three of us didn’t talk at all.”

He sat there a moment longer, thinking of Zianne, thinking of Dink, but all of his thoughts merely confused him more. Finally Mac rolled out of bed and headed to the shower. His head was spinning, and it wasn’t from the sex. It was spinning around the mystery that was Zianne.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

Dream Catcher is a stand-alone story, but it’s also the introduction to the new series. It takes place in 1992, at the dawn of the “personal computer” craze—the series starts off in the present.

Now, I’ve spilled my guts about my latest dumb move—I want to hear one of yours. C’mon…dish! You know you’ve got something in your closet! Winner will be selected from those leaving a comment—you’ll have your choice of the new NightShift anthology as soon as I get my author copies, or one of the very few ARCs for CrystalFire that just showed up a couple of days ago.

My personal Facebook page is now full, so if you get a chance I’d love it if you’d “like” my author page. It’s at http://www.facebook.com/katedouglas.authorpage and you can follow me on Twitter @wolftales

I’m sitting in my office writing, listening to the rain coming down outside while working on the first novel for my Dream Catchers series. I’m just back at it after taking a break in the middle of the project because I felt like I needed to step away. The characters weren’t talking to me the way I like, and I didn’t feel that connection to them that usually makes my stories come alive for me.

So I took a week off and wrote another of my short Demon Lover stories. They’re just for fun–short and sexy reads about a trio of demon hunters. Jett and Locan started out as demons thousands of years ago, but they were changed by their first fulcrum, a woman who kept them from killing each other while they went about the business of killing demons on Earth. In the first story, UNBALANCED, their fulcrum is killed, but she manages to bite an unemployed accountant before she dies, thereby transferring her abilities to a totally unsuspecting Addie Logan. I had NO IDEA where I was going with this, and still don’t, but during my week away from the novel, I wrote the third story, UNMASKED. It should be up for sale as an ebook in another week.

The really cool thing about taking time off to write the novella is that when I went back to the WIP (work in progress) I realized I missed the characters. Maybe it’s the changing season, the fact that it was almost 100 degrees and hard to concentrate in my top floor office, but now that I’m back and working on it again and it’s raining and cool outside and toasty inside, the connection is there. Rodie is a real woman, and Morgan and Mac, Cameron, Finn, Kiera and Lizzie all have personalities and problems and feelings and enough issues to give me my story.

I think you guys are going to love it. I know I’m beginning to get really excited about where this one is going. Finally. Yes…I know. I mentioned that already.

It’s set in the northeastern part of California, high on a plateau where MacArthur Dugan has built a huge satellite array, much like the Allen Array that’s up at Hat Creek, in the California Sierras near Mt. Lassen, only instead of using his array to search for extraterrestrials and map the stars, Mac Dugan is looking for his lost love, Zianne. You’ll meet her before he loses her in the NightShift anthology coming out in November. There’s a lot written about the Allen Array, My husband and I have been up there and taken the tour–it’s really amazing, and it was the inspiration for my new series, Dream Catchers. (The photo of my husband will give you an idea of the size–he’s 6’4″ and the entire plateau is covered with these big dishes.) We wandered around the Allen Array for an hour or more and I kept thinking that it would be so cool if, instead of just receiving signals from space, what if we used the dishes to send them…and what if those signals were made up of sexual fantasies from a group of brilliant young people with telepathic abilities–and what if that’s what it would take to bring Zianne and her people home to Mac, the power inherent in sexual fantasy? Have I told you how much I absolutely love my job?

Anyway, that’s what I’ve been up to. Well, that and thinking about my new Chanku series that we’re seriously discussing now with my editor, and getting ready for a trip into the Sierras to see the fall colors and check out the area where Dream Catchers takes place. And, because you all know that I love to give books away, if you’ll leave a comment about your plans for the Fall or what you’ve been up to or just say hi so I know you’ve been here, I’ll add your name to my contest to win either a copy of one of my Wolf Tales or Sexy Beast books, or one of the DemonSlayers. Thanks for coming by!

Sorry I’m late getting this posted, but just got back yesterday after a few days with three of our grandkids–Luca is 10, Gracie 7 1/2, and Cole 5, and the three of them kept me going a lot faster than I’m used to! However, spending time with the three of them reminded me of something I’ve wanted to post about for a couple of months, now–and yes, it has to do with family.

In this case, my Chanku family! Now that the series has ended with the release of Wolf Tales 12, I’ve been inundated with requests for information about the various packs and which children belong to what parents.

IT’S IN THE BOOK, FOLKS!!!

If you’ll go to the very end of Wolf Tales 12, you’ll find one list that’s a timeline for the entire Wolf Tales/Sexy Beast series–the listing is by book, with “real time” dates and which characters are introduced and which ones are featured within each story. This is the timeline I set up for myself while writing, just so I could keep track of everyone by book, so it’s not fancy. It’s just information I needed to keep things straight.

The second list is of all of my Chanku characters, which pack they belong to, their children, mates and even their birth dates. It has everyone in it as of the time when Wolf Tales 12 is set. Again, these lists were not so much for my readers as for myself–juggling so many characters would have been impossible without a lot of charts and notes–there are well over fifty Chanku by the time Wolf Tales 12 comes along.

For those of you who have purchased ebooks, I’ve been told the information is difficult to read in some versions, so I’ve posted my notes on my website.

I need to get back to work now–finishing up UNMASKED, the third book in my Demon Lovers ebook series, and also working on the first novel for Dream Catchers, so I have a lot to get done. Those of you who leave a comment will be entered in a contest to win a copy of any of the later Wolf Tales or Sexy Beast books. Hope you all have a great week. I’ll be choosing a winner by Wednesday.

I’m home from a fantastic trip up the Oregon coast, a wonderful family wedding in Tigard, Oregon, and the best book signing I’ve ever attended at Jan’s Paperbacks in the little town of Aloha, Oregon, near Portland. Oh, and two emergency veterinarian visits…

Why is it that when the furbabies get sick, nothing else matters? The second morning out on our trip, my husband noticed that one of Rufus’s eyes didn’t look right. It was half shut and he was obviously in pain. We found a vet in Reedsport who checked him over and said there was an obvious problem with his eye, but couldn’t give us a diagnosis. He did, however, give us some antibiotics and mentioned a specialist at a clinic near Portland if the drugs didn’t work. Thursday morning, Rufus was really in a lot of pain, and his face was all swollen around his left eye, so we packed up the rig and headed straight to the clinic in Clackamas, southeast of Portland. On the way, whatever was making Rufus so miserable broke. Gross doesn’t come close–we’re talking blood and much yuckier stuff, all over him and me, but he immediately felt much better. I, of course, was trying really hard not to puke in the motorhome…so tacky!

Got to the clinic and they let us in well ahead of our appointment, the doctor was wonderful–she said he’d had an abscess behind his eye that broke and now that it was open, he should start to heal with the super antibiotics she put him on. And, just like that, Rufus was feeling great, though getting all the pills down him was a challenge. This is a shot of him with Doug, waiting to see the doggy ophthalmologist.

Waiting for the doggy ophthalmologist

We attended our niece’s wedding on Saturday, which was held at the Ponzi Winery production facility–absolutely a gorgeous spot on top of a hill with a view of the valley below. Of course we had to take Rufus–he stayed in the motorhome and we’d sneak away to walk him and check on him, but it was such fun to see all the family–our daughter and her husband and three kids were there, our son and his wife flew in from Hawaii, though their two little ones stayed home with their other grandmother, but we all danced and laughed and had a wonderful time.

The next day was our signing at Jan’s Paperbacks. What a hoot that was! Debbie, the owner, had a wonderful set up for all of us–Meljean Brook, Lisa Hendrix, Minnette Meador and me. Kristina McMorris wasn’t able to come and I really missed her, but her son had had some surgery and kids always come first.

Monday morning we headed back to California, but the weather had turned warm so we decided to go back down the coast. We stayed one night at an RV park at an Indian Casino in Coos Bay. That was hysterical! We wanted to be close to the doggy park, and they put our little teensy rig in between these monster RVs that are bigger than some houses. Doug got a picture to send to his buddies–said it was easy to tell who the liberals were in the park! Still, I wouldn’t trade our little rig for a big one–it’s just perfect for travel and it has everything we need–a kitchen, bathroom and a king sized bed! What else do you need? I hope you can see it–it’s really tiny, just in the middle of the photo…

We stayed the last night at Harris Beach State Park, right on the ocean. It was gorgeous–the weather was perfect and we walked down to the beach to watch the sun set. It was gorgeous, and a wonderful way to end our trip. We’re home now, and I’m back to work but the memories are wonderful. I’m planning to get my newsletter out in a couple of days, but in the meantime, as always, I’d love to give away a book to some of you who post–your choice. If I’ve got the one you want, it’s yours.

Tell me what memories you’re taking away from this summer. I do hope you’ve got some good ones–mine’s been busy and sometimes frantic, but finishing off the season with a wonderful ten days with my husband and Rufus made for a nice end to the season. Tell me what you did, and your name will go into the hat for a chance to win a book.

I woke up this morning to the sound of blue jays arguing outside the bedroom, for some reason remembering how I used to feel about Mondays. I was lying there in bed, wondering what day it was, and I finally remembered it had to be Monday because I needed to remind the husband to get the garbage cans out on the curb for Tuesday pick up.

Things used to be so different. Back when our children were still at home, Monday meant the weekend was over, the kids off to school, my husband back at work, and the week stretched out in front of me with all the racing around that’s required of a mother and wife. There were a lot more places I had to be, things I had to do–and always for someone else.

Monday meant a whole new week, but it also required a shift in routine. I knew I’d be spending the rest of the week working toward the weekend when it was time once again to take off my multitude of mom uniforms. Weekends I could share the load–I was no longer the full time taxi driver, cook, maid, gardener, therapist, teacher’s aide, nurse (there is ALWAYS a booboo or two to deal with!) dog walker, mommy and wife. Not that I didn’t do those things on the weekend, but at least I got to share the load and know that I could actually sit back and enjoy the kids.

But, as kids usually do, ours grew up, moved away, married and reproduced, (though I always said the “big kid,” — my husband stayed home. ) Once the kids were gone, I got really serious about my writing and life made a drastic change. My books began selling, the husband retired and took over most of the household, and everything made a monumental shift.

The biggest shift, in retrospect, is that I lost the joy of weekends vs. the expectation of Mondays. Now, unless I look at the little calendar in the corner of my computer screen that tells me what day of the week it is, I often don’t even know, and I think I miss that. My days sort of blend, one into the other. I wake up, pour myself a cup of coffee, wander upstairs and turn on my laptop no matter what day of the week it is.

Of course, then it doesn’t matter what day it is, because I lose myself in my fantasy world. I’m no longer Dabba, or Kate or even that weird neighbor who rarely leaves the house. It used to be I’d spend my days as Anton or Keisha or Adam or Liana or any of the other older generation of Chanku, and then I was Alton or maybe Dax, Eddie or Ginny from my DemonSlayers, but those stories are written, and their stories told.

Yesterday I was Addie from Demon Lovers, and for awhile Jett and Locan, and today I know I’ll be MacArthur Dugan, trying to find a way to save my alien lover. I don’t need to know what day of the week it is, because once I slip into my fantasy world, it’s whatever day or year I need for it to be.

So, in some ways I’ve lost my sense of expectation that Mondays used to bring, and weekends no longer hold the same lure, but I’m definitely okay with the trade off, because every day has become an adventure. Mondays? Not so big a deal–that day only exists in the real world. I think I’ll choose my fantasy world over the real one. It’s a lot more fun, not nearly as dark and dangerous, and I can be whomever I want to be. Here’s a taste of my novella from the NightShift anthology that will introduce my newest Aphrodisia series, Dream Catchers. Meet MacArthur Dugan, a man who is waking up to the fact his sexual fantasies have given a woman life:

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

There it was again, that sweet scent that made him think of warm vanilla wafers. Crawling out of a sublimely sexual dream featuring his latest fantasy female—a dream that faded away as consciousness returned—Mac sniffed the air. Had the smell of cookies awakened him?

He really wanted to get back to that dream.

The room was still dark, but the same tantalizing sweetness he’d noticed earlier filled his nostrils. Stronger now. Closer.

He reached for the lamp on the bedside table. A soft hand stroked his chest. Mac sucked in a gasp of air.

Scrabbling for the switch, he flicked on the light and shoved himself back against the headboard.

Blinking beneath the bright light, he stared into the face of a woman too perfect to be real—eyes so purple they sparkled like amethysts beneath thick, sooty lashes, and hair as black as night. Her skin was fair, her lips full and lush. If he’d dreamed her into existence, she couldn’t have been more perfect, and that was the only way she could have gotten here, because he sure as hell hadn’t invited anyone in tonight.

“Who the hell are you?”

She frowned. Her dark brows knotted, and two tiny lines appeared between them. “I’m Zianne,” she said, as if he should know. “Don’t you remember? And you are Mac.”

She spoke with a soft accent he didn’t recognize, in a voice that was low and sort of raspy. Hinting of sex and secrets, it raised shivers along his spine.

He shook his head. He’d been so damned drunk when he left Dinkemann’s place—had he met her somewhere tonight? He’d never had an alcoholic blackout in his life, but if this was the result, he’d definitely been wasting his time.

He flashed on the fantasy he’d had in the shower. The same woman beside him in bed? No. That wasn’t real. She wasn’t real. He’d imagined that. Hadn’t he? Was he imagining her here, now?

Impossible to imagine her scent, the weight of her warm body against his. Her touch. He inhaled a deep, shuddering breath. “Where’d you come from?”

She shrugged as if he were a complete fool for asking, and for a minute he thought he must be, because there was no way in hell he’d ever forget bringing someone like Zianne home to his apartment. There wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to make him forget a woman like her.

A memory flashed through his mind, of Zianne kneeling before him in the shower, her mouth…dear God. Her mouth!

She smiled with those perfect, lush lips and stroked his cheek with her fingertips. Her touch was soft and warm. Perfect

“You brought me here.” Her scent enveloped him, stealing his thoughts from the question.

There it was again, that sweet scent that made him think of warm vanilla wafers. Crawling out of a sublimely sexual dream featuring his latest fantasy female—a dream that faded away as consciousness returned—Mac sniffed the air. Had the smell of cookies awakened him?

He really wanted to get back to that dream.

The room was still dark, but the same tantalizing sweetness he’d noticed earlier filled his nostrils. Stronger now. Closer.

He reached for the lamp on the bedside table. A soft hand stroked his chest. Mac sucked in a gasp of air.

Scrabbling for the switch, he flicked on the light and shoved himself back against the headboard.

Blinking beneath the bright light, he stared into the face of a woman too perfect to be real—eyes so purple they sparkled like amethysts beneath thick, sooty lashes, and hair as black as night. Her skin was fair, her lips full and lush. If he’d dreamed her into existence, she couldn’t have been more perfect, and that was the only way she could have gotten here, because he sure as hell hadn’t invited anyone in tonight.

“Who the hell are you?”

She frowned. Her dark brows knotted, and two tiny lines appeared between them. “I’m Zianne,” she said, as if he should know. “Don’t you remember? And you are Mac.”

She spoke with a soft accent he didn’t recognize, in a voice that was low and sort of raspy. Hinting of sex and secrets, it raised shivers along his spine.

He shook his head. He’d been so damned drunk when he left Dinkemann’s place—had he met her somewhere tonight? He’d never had an alcoholic blackout in his life, but if this was the result, he’d definitely been wasting his time.

He flashed on the fantasy he’d had in the shower. The same woman beside him in bed? No. That wasn’t real. She wasn’t real. He’d imagined that. Hadn’t he? Was he imagining her here, now?

Impossible to imagine her scent, the weight of her warm body against his. Her touch. He inhaled a deep, shuddering breath. “Where’d you come from?”

She shrugged as if he were a complete fool for asking, and for a minute he thought he must be, because there was no way in hell he’d ever forget bringing someone like Zianne home to his apartment. There wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to make him forget a woman like her.

A memory flashed through his mind, of Zianne kneeling before him in the shower, her mouth…dear God. Her mouth!

She smiled with those perfect, lush lips and stroked his cheek with her fingertips. Her touch was soft and warm. Perfect

“You brought me here.” Her scent enveloped him, stealing his thoughts from the question.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

So…what have you got planned for the week ahead? Leave a comment, and you’ll be entered into a drawing for a copy of Wolf Tales 12. (or another of my books if you already have that one)

Hard to believe I finished writing the final Wolf Tales almost a year ago, but we’re close to the book’s release on June 28, and I’m really getting anxious. This series has been such a labor of love that it’s been difficult facing the end, but at the same time, I’m really thrilled with the way this final story ends.I hope readers will enjoy it as much as I loved the process of writing it.

Writing for a pantser like me is all about discovery–learning about my characters, finding out what makes them tick, and then figuring out what kind of trouble they’re going to get into. But you’ve all heard me talk about that sort of thing. Instead of repeating myself, I think I’m just going to post an excerpt I’ve never put up before, and let you make up your own minds.
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Anton dragged one of the big sprinklers closer to the forest and aimed the spray directly at the tall cedars lining the driveway near the house. So far, the fire was burning through the dry underbrush and debris along the forest floor, but if the flames got into the tops of the trees with this wind blowing, there’d be no stopping it.

Baylor and Jake were farther out in front, setting more sprinklers in the big meadow near the main entrance at the far end of the driveway. Stefan was still wetting down the roof. Slate tiles wouldn’t burn, but the water kept the inside cooler and discouraged embers from smoldering on the stones.

Adam and Oliver were inside, making certain everyone had cleared out of the main house and moved into the caverns. With so many people on the property, Anton didn’t want to risk missing someone in case the house caught fire.

Tinker and Luc were inside helping to carry more equipment from Logan’s clinic into the caverns, but they’d moved all the vehicles to the center of the back meadow—the largest expanse of closely mowed lawn on the property. Everything, including the chopper, was covered in fire-retardant tarps and there were sprinklers all around to keep the grass from burning.

It was the best they could do.

Embers landed in dry grass near Oliver and Mei’s cottage. Anton raced across the driveway and used his shovel to smother the flames.

“Stand back.” Stefan leaned over from the roof. “I’ll douse that area again. The wind’s already dried it out.”

Anton stepped out of the way while Stefan shot a steady stream of water over the dry grass. Steam hissed from the small patch that had caught fire.

A deep roar had Anton spinning where he stood. Baylor shouted something he couldn’t hear over the noise. In the glow of the fire, Anton saw Jake running toward the house with Baylor on his heels. Anton had first focused on the men, but his eyes were immediately drawn to the nightmare behind them.

The fire was crowning. Pushed higher and hotter by the growing winds, it burst through the treetops and shot straight into the night sky. Flames boiled out of the thick limbs and intense heat quickly raised the temperature of the sap inside nearby trees to explosive levels. A huge pine exploded, sending fiery pitch and burning branches into the sky. The one next to it blew, and the next.

The sound was a roaring freight train, bearing down on all of them. Unstoppable. Deadly. Racing faster than any man or wolf could hope to run.

Burning debris shot through the air, deadly fireworks lighting the night sky, falling to the ground all around Bay and Jake. Despite the water they’d poured on the dry grass, small fires sprung up everywhere, whipped immediately into frenzied whirlwinds. In front of the men, behind them, fed by the wind, swirling tornadoes, spreading more flames wherever they blew.

Anton shouted at Stefan. “Stef! Get down. Off the roof now! It’s too late. We need to get into the caves.”

Stefan threw the hose off the roof and raced for the ladder. Anton turned again and watched the two men running before a fire that chased them across the burning meadow in a horrible race they couldn’t possibly win.

Flames licked up the side of Mei and Oliver’s cottage. The heat was intense—the air filled with smoke and swirling, burning embers. There wasn’t enough air to breathe—all of it fueling the fire, burning their lungs, stinging eyes. Anton turned his gaze away from the burning cottage as Stefan ran across the driveway and skidded to a stop at his side.

Baylor was almost to the house when Jake cried out and stumbled forward. He fell, screaming, hit in the back by a burning branch, a limb blown from one of the exploding trees.

Baylor spun around and raced back across the burning grass to help him. Anton and Stef ran full-tilt across the burning meadow, sidestepping the dozens of small fires that grew even as they leapt over and around them—fires that grew and spread, all pushed by the wind toward the beautiful house that had stood in this perfect meadow for so many years.

Anton couldn’t think of his home. Focused only on the man screaming in pain, rolling in the grass, frantically trying to dislodge the burning pitch from his back.

Baylor reached Jake first and ripped the shirt off of him, cursing and beating the flames out with his hands. Burned flesh tore away with the fabric, but Jake’s screams had stopped. He lurched to his hands and knees and then, with Bay’s help he stood. He stumbled slightly, swaying for a moment from shock and pain. His eyes were glazed, his legs unsteady, but he still managed to move forward.

Anton and Stef reached the two of them as yet another huge pine burst into flames. More burning debris fell like fiery rain around them. Holding Jake’s arms, practically carrying him through the fire, they reached the main house.

Oliver and Adam flung open the door as Bay, Stef and Anton ran up the wide front stairs, holding Jake. Oliver and Mei’s cottage was fully engulfed, lighting the night like a torch. Flames licked up the walls of the main house, burning hot just outside the kitchen.

They had to pass through the kitchen to access the caverns.

“We were just coming to get you. We don’t have much time if we expect to make it to the caves.” Adam stepped aside so Anton and the others could get Jake through the door. “How is he?”

“Badly burned,” Anton said. “I think he’s going into shock.” When they reached the kitchen, Baylor took up Anton’s hold on Jake and Anton stepped aside.

Oliver held the door to the cellar open. Flames boiled in a seething storm just outside the kitchen window and smoke made it difficult to breathe. The generator-powered lights flickered and went out, but the shed was probably burning by now and light from the fire illuminated the room. Heat in the kitchen was already growing unbearable, though the roar of the fire seemed muted here inside the walls.

At least for now. Anton moved out of the way as Adam leaned over and grabbed Jake’s legs. Baylor carefully held Jake’s upper body, avoiding the burned and blackened skin on his back and shoulders. The two of them could get him into the cavern faster this way. Jake moaned, barely conscious. Oliver went on ahead, opening doors as Baylor and Adam carefully carried Jake down the stairs to safety.
Anton glanced at Stefan. Soot covered his face and there were tears in Stef’s eyes.

“Stef? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

A window somewhere in the house exploded. Smoke was getting thicker, filling the once bright kitchen, but the light now wasn’t from moonlight or the sun or the emergency lights—it was the angry red of fire boiling just outside the windows.

“It’s gone, Anton. Your home will be gone by morning.”

Anton shifted his eyes away from the pain in Stefan’s. His gaze fell on the refrigerator, on the colorful drawings made by so many of the children—drawings carefully taped to the smooth stainless steel finish.

At first, those wonderful childish drawings filled him with pain, at the thought they would soon be nothing more than ash. Then a calming sense of acceptance washed over him.

All his priorities clicked perfectly into place.

There was nothing they could do. The house was going to burn. The pictures would burn…he raised his head and smiled at Stefan. The children were safe. What else mattered?

He clapped a hand on Stefan’s shoulder. “It’s just a house, Stef. Wood and glass and steel. All replaceable. You, my friend, are not. Now get your skinny ass down those stairs before I have to carry you myself.”

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

This excerpt takes place about half way through the book…but it will give you a hint of what’s coming. And an added note–if you are going to be in NY next week, I’ll be there for the Romance Writers of America conference, signing books at the Marriott Marquis in Times Square on Tuesday, June 28 from 5:30-7:30.

And, I’ll be in Portland, OR August 7 signing at Jan’s Paperbacks from noon to four. More details on that signing as we get closer to the date.

I’ve got ONE copy of Wolf Tales 12 to give to a lucky winner who will be chosen from those of you leaving a comment. I would love to know if you have a favorite Chanku character, and why you like them best. I’ll choose the winner on Tuesday.

Where to start…well, probably at the beginning! This past weekend, my husband and I loaded up the motor home and, in spite of a weather forecast predicting snow, headed up to Kennedy Meadows Pack Station at Sonora Pass in the Sierra Nevada mountains for a “Packer’s Reunion.” A long time ago, before my spouse and I were married, he worked as a packer at Kennedy, hauling hunters and campers and fisherpersons into the back country on horseback with a string of mules or pack horses carrying all their gear.

This is the cowboy then– …and yes, it’s been about forty years since this was taken, but some of the old cowboys who showed up had worked at the station clear back in the fifties. The weather was a bit iffy, but there was plenty of food and the bar was open, and the stories flew fast and furious. There’s nothing quite like getting a bunch of old cowboys together to hear some amazing lies…uh, tales.

One of the best, of course, belonged to my husband, his brother and his brother’s wife. They were in the back country along with their parents and some other friends in August of 1971 when they were caught in a lightning storm–three horses were killed, two of them out from under their riders. I can’t imagine how terrifying that must have been, to be on horseback above the tree line on a steep mountain trail with lightning flashing all around. Luckily none of the humans were injured, though my husband said he felt the shock and his horse didn’t care for it one bit!

By the way…this is the cowboy now. And me. That’s the pack station behind us.

We had a great time at the reunion. The sun came out and we ate the most fantastic barbecue, and then partied way too late into the night. We woke up the next morning to about a foot of snow on the ground, and more falling, but cowboys are a tough lot. A few of them had to get back to the valley, so they headed out with their 4wd trucks, some with chains, some without, and around ten we heard that the snow plow was due in around eleven. We don’t have chains for the motorhome, but we packed up and drove out to the main road behind my brother-in-law’s rig, one he’s driven to Alaska, so we knew he could go just about anywhere. It was an unbelievably beautiful drive, and we passed the snow plow coming up as we were heading down. We covered about forty miles before we were out of snow, and saw some of the most gorgeous sights ever. This is a shot I took as we headed out of Kennedy: and it’s only one of many. Pictures are up on my author page at Facebook

And why, you ask, am I writing about cowboys? Well, it’s because I’ve got a very special story releasing in a couple of weeks that’s part of a truly special project–Lori Foster does an anthology every year, with the proceeds going to charity. This year all money earned from the sale of THE PROMISE OF LOVE goes to One Way Farm, a home for abused and homeless children–and my story in the collection is a cowboy romance called DIME STORE COWBOY. If you’ve read my old, OLD romance, COWBOY IN MY POCKET, you’ll remember Mark Connor the NY editor, and Betsy Mae Twigg, the rodeo queen. They never met in that book, so I gave them a chance in this new story. It’s a fun read with a message, and though the story is short, it’s really entertaining–and proof that I can write something that’s NOT paranormal!

Here’s a taste, just to give you an idea of what it’s like:

Betsy Mae stomped through the front door, planted herself behind the desk and grabbed the registration book before that damned drop-dead gorgeous dime store cowboy started asking questions. He had to be wondering what happened to her face.

Well hell, so was she. When her ex had called and apologized and asked if she’d be willing to give it another try, Betsy Mae’d honestly thought he’d turned over a new leaf.

Big mistake. And she’d almost rather eat dirt than have to come crawling back to her brother and best friend now sister-in-law, especially after they’d warned her this was going to happen, but damn it all, she’d had nowhere else to go.

No one else to care. And no matter how pissed Will might be with her for going back to Frank in the first place, her brother had still welcomed her back. Sort of.

A big shadow blocked the light from the front window. She looked up, blinking, and wondered how long tall, blond and gorgeous had been standing there staring at her. Embarrassed to be caught woolgathering, Betsy shoved the registration book across the counter. “Here. Sign in.”

His eyes flashed and she felt just the slightest bit guilty over the attitude she was giving him. It wasn’t his fault her life was a train wreck, but he took the pen in one large yet elegant hand and, without a word, scrawled his name across the register. Mark Connor. Tag’s new wife’s fancy-pants editor.

“What cabin am I in?”

She shook her head. “You’re in the main house. All the cabins are reserved through the next two weeks.”

His perfect lips turned down in a brief moue of displeasure, but he kept his mouth shut, nodded and reached for his wallet.

She shook her head. “No charge.”

Raising his head, he quirked one surprisingly dark eyebrow over blue eyes so pale they looked silver. “I don’t understand.”

She shrugged, taking fiendish glee in setting him straight. “We’re full up, Will’s gone and I need help. You’re not here for vacation, Mr. Connor. You’re here to work. Maria will have dinner ready at six every night and I’ll expect you in the barn at six-thirty tomorrow morning.”

She flashed him a big grin, waiting for the fireworks to start. Instead, he raised his head with a smile that turned that already handsome face into drop-dead, wet-panty gorgeous. “Wonderful,” he said, like he actually meant it. “If you’ll show me to my room, I’ll get settled.”

~*~

I’m going to do something special for a prize this time–I’ve got a print copy of Cowboy In My Pocket left. The book is out of print and will be coming out as an ebook in a couple of months, but if you just leave a comment, you’re in the running for a copy of the original story. What I want to know is how you feel about reunions–family, school, neighborhood, whatever. Are they ever as great as you hope? Has something really funny happened at one that you’d like to share? I’d love to hear your stories!

I’m sort of laughing at myself after complaining for weeks about the crappy weather. I didn’t realize how good I had it! It was wet and miserable outside, which made it SO easy to stay inside and write. But now, just in the past few days, the sun has come out, the flowers are blooming, birds are building their nests and I am finding it harder than I imagined to stay inside my office!

Today my husband had to make a trip into Lakeport, which is a town about fifteen miles from us. I really didn’t have to go, but I jumped at the chance to go for a drive through the mountains. Wildflowers are magnificent after a very cold winter and wet spring. The hills are nothing but masses of color and the sky is so blue it doesn’t look real. Stay inside and write? Are you nuckin’ futs?

Okay, so I played today and yesterday…and…uh…the day before, but damn it felt good! I planted petunias and raked leaves and brushed Rufus outside and sort of frittered away the beginning of the week. I actually want to write tomorrow–had originally been scheduled for jury duty, but checked in tonight and they don’t need me. I’m one of those odd ducks who actually likes jury duty–it’s a chance to see an element of society I don’t usually spend time with–you know, the ones who do stupid things and think they can get away with it? Amazing, some of the stuff that comes to trial, but I digress…

In honor of gorgeous weather, I’m going to post an excerpt of StarFire, the latest book in my DemonSlayers series, and if you leave a comment about the weather where YOU live (and I know it’s been awful in a lot of places) you’ll have a chance to win a book.

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Selyn is one of the Forgotten Ones, a woman held as a slave in the crystal mines of Lemuria. The only men she has ever known are the brutal guards who watch over the women. Dawson is a nerdy veterinarian who has cared for her after she was badly beaten–he has no finesse with women, and Selyn has never known a kind man. Until Dawson.
—–

Selyn turned and looked at him through eyes filled with tears. Frustration and anger seemed almost a part of her, but there was more he sensed. Sadness. Soul-deep and heartfelt sadness. Despair and a terrible sense of grief, of loss.

Dawson wasn’t sure how it happened, what gave him the courage to act. Empathy, a desire to take away her pain? For whatever reason, before he had time to think this through he had his arms around her and she was close, so damned close he breathed in her scent and felt the warmth of sunlight on her long, black hair.

Her arms wrapped tightly around his back and she leaned into his embrace. It seemed perfectly natural to lift her chin with his fingertips and kiss her. The floppy straw hat tilted away and dropped to the sand at her heels, but Dawson didn’t care. Not when he was doing something he’d barely dreamed of.

And, surprise of surprises, it wasn’t nearly as frightening as it should have been for a man who felt woefully inept around women. Dogs and cats were so much easier to figure out, but Selyn didn’t seem to mind that he lacked the finesse of most men when he tasted the full curve of her lips, when his tongue traced the seam between them and gently begged entrance.

She parted for him, tilting her head just right in order to make their mouths fit even more perfectly. Dawson fought the powerful urge to press his body closer, to kiss harder, to slip his hands beneath her loose shirt and explore the woman beneath the soft, cotton scrubs.

Her breasts were soft against his chest, her fingers digging into his back as she clung to him, holding on as if he were somehow anchoring her, holding her in safety.

She had no idea what his body was driving him to do. No idea how difficult it was to fight his baser instincts. He didn’t want to frighten her, and he forced himself to move slowly, to proceed carefully, but the thought of never taking this beyond a kiss terrified him. Somehow, before too long, he needed to know what her body felt like, how well it would align to his. How perfectly he could fill her, make love to her, make her his own.

Her tongue slipped into his mouth in a timid exploration that sent Dawson’s heart stuttering in his chest. Her taste was unique, the soft pressure of her lips against his—of her tongue exploring the edges of his teeth and the sensitive curve of his mouth—an almost uncontrollable aphrodisiac.

He clasped her head in his palms, holding her so that he could taste and nibble and make love to her mouth. He wanted more, so damned much more, but this was neither the time nor the place, and it was all much too soon.

I do hope you enjoy the book. And let me know how your weather’s been if you want a chance at winning a book. Thanks so much for coming by!