As I'm excited about my new cover and upcoming release for Cowboy Daze I'm going to post a teaser!
The brush stroked along his chestnut fur. JD always found it relaxing to groom his horse, Zeus and it had been a while since he was home. He taken his favourite steed for an early morning gallop and they now relaxed together with the ritual grooming. “Morning, JD.” He turned to find his manager, Jeff, watching where he walked to avoid getting shit on his expensive shoes. “Morning, Jeff, what’s happening?” “I’ve got you a high-profile interview.” “You know how I feel about the press.” “Yes, I do, but this is a good opportunity. She’s from Seattle. We could get you more coverage. It can’t hurt to let the whole country know who you are.” “You’re the boss,” JD said with a wink. “Is she nice looking?” He continued with a grin. “I have no idea. Does it matter?” Jeff asked with a return smile. “Maybe it will make it pleasant. I might be more willing if she is.” “Just turn on that country charm of yours and I’m sure you’ll win her over.” “That’s my manager talking. Blowing smoke up my arse.” He chuckled. Sometimes Jeff could be a bit stiff but always had praise for JD, his ‘favourite’ client. “She’ll be at the rodeo tomorrow, you can meet her before your event and then she will interview you afterwards.” “Okey dokey.” Pre-rodeo jitters went with him on the car ride to Austin. Though he’d done it hundreds of time, he still got nervous. What he did was risky. He’d broken many bones, but the thrill got him every time. Today his reporter would be there, and he wondered what she looked like, just like he’d said to Jeff. It had been a while since a girl caught his attention. Since her, he hadn’t even been on a date but dwelling on things was something that JD didn’t do. It was time to leave all that behind. He was over it after all but talks of a new face at the rodeo got him thinking about the fairer sex. So, to keep his mind occupied for the road trip he thought about who he was about to meet and what she may ask him. Time went fast and before he knew it, he was pulling into his apartment building in the city. He took his bag upstairs and unpacked all the clothes he would need for his two day stay. He would compete tonight and tomorrow night and then head back home on Sunday. Perhaps the journalist lady should see where he grew up for her story. Once he was finished he checked his watch. Time to head down to the arena. He liked to get there early to prepare and check out the bulls to be ridden in the tournament. As he was a high ranked rider, for some rounds he can choose a bull from the draft, the rest would be randomly chosen. In turn, he checked out each bull. There were several things he looked at. The size, how jittery it looked and its general form. After checking them out he noted a few he would like to select. He climbed down from the last fence and turned. I am manically excited today about my new cover for Cowboy Daze. It needed a change to reflect more what the book is about and the previous picture was being used by someone else so Poppet made me a new cover so it would be unique. Thanks Poppet from Southern Stiles Design - love it!
I wrote Hitman when I was on authonomy so we are talking many years since I wrote this short. At times there would be a forum about writing a short story, posting them and people voting on the best one. Just for fun. The genre I got was comedy so this is my attempt at comedy all be it black.
My name is Jason Smith. I’m a hitman. And no, it is not my real name. Over the past ten years a number of the targets or marks have given me enjoyment. Now I know this sounds harsh or even callous, but some make it so easy. Sometimes they do part, if not all, of the job for me. Most of the people I’ve hit have been nasty types. The kind society is better off without, so your sympathy for them isn’t warranted. These are the scum of the earth, the gum on your shoe, the dregs. et the comedy of errors and last plea offerings which have and often occur, are my source of amusement. Some criminals shouldn’t be criminals. They either don’t have the brains or lack the flair for the life. Many really don’t have the balls. Some have two left feet, which has enabled my job to run smoother on occasions. These are the easy money. The first year or so ran as it would for the unseasoned, a newbie and the mistakes were for the most part mine. Getting brain matter or blood on your clothes and shoes became expensive so I discovered clean ways to dispense my own style of justice. One time I meant to shoot the mark in the chest, but his cat sent my allergies into a frenzy. A sneezing fit ensured his brains redecorated the walls. I don’t like leaving mess it grates on my need for cleanliness. If I’m going to hell, I could be at least tidy when I arrive. As time passed I improved and getting in and out, undetected, clean and without too much fuss became relatively easy. On a few occasions things didn’t quite go as planned. The first was Joey ‘Scarface’ DeMarco. Most of these lowlife’s nicknames were as unoriginal as their crimes. Joey was a pimp, a drug kingpin and all in all a nasty piece of work. The family of a young girl he hooked on drugs and then sold on the street wanted the retribution for her death, one the courts didn’t offer. Scum such as Joey may not be able to fight their way out of a paper bag, but they could buy their way out of anything. One on one they weren’t so tough. After watching for the usual time, I determined when Joey would be alone. Killing one person per job also ensures a smoother run. Usually. The scumbag sat behind his desk in the office in the rear of one of his S&M clubs. Now I could just walk up silent, stand behind him and shoot him where he sat but where would the fun be in that. “Evening, Scarface,” I said as came to stand with stealth in front of his desk. “Who the fuck are you? How did you get in here?” Original standard lines. At this point I could do the usual and say nothing but I was spoiling for a fight. My day had been filled with petty annoyances such as stepping in dog shit and my favourite hooker coming down with a bout of crabs. I was horny and annoyed. “What does it look like?” I said my silenced gun aimed at his head. “What the hell? Who are you?” I sighed. Joey stood in a flash, flinging his chair against the wall behind him. This is going to be interesting, I thought as he came around the desk. He’s showing some balls. His urgency to come at me, to do only he knew what, caused his feet to catch the edge of the desk. Down he came, hard. His face caught the edge of the desk, leaving his eye as a new desk ornament. I wouldn’t have thought it possible if I hadn’t witnessed if for myself. He slumped to the floor in a heap, blood seeping from the empty socket. He lay as still as night. I bent down to check his pulse and found nothing. I grinned. He’d done my job for me, one less soul to repent. To this day I’m still unaware of exactly how one can lose their eye and life from one swift crack to the head on a table. The mind boggles. The next crazy occurrence didn’t happen for some months and this still brings forth a cackle every time I think of it. I remember the event but not his name, Frank something or other. This one hid in the basement, underneath the bar he used as a legitimate front, like the rat that he was. He tried to negotiate, threw money and girls at me. The thrill of popping someone gave me more satisfaction then money or hookers ever could so he wasted his time. I’ve been offered many different bribes from different scum over the years, as they begged for their lives. I remember one in particular, Michael Scalzi, he offered me his sister. He even showed me her picture which he kept framed on his desk. A face only a mother could love as they say. The crazy thing was he was deadly serious and must have thought I was one desperate man to take on that wildebeest. His life didn’t mean much to him obviously, if that was all he had to save it. Even if he offered me a beauty queen, I don’t think I would have considered sparing him. Anyway, back to Frank. He approached me too, trying to talk me round. As I went to shoot him, he grabbed the gun. The round took off two or it could have been three of his fingers. Sent them clean over his shoulder to create a finger painting on the wall behind him. Frankie boy stared at his hand in surprise, as though he couldn’t believe I’d shot them off. He was lucky to still be alive. I laughed at his sincere horror at losing his fingers. Dumb arse was about to lose more than that. “You shot off my fingers,” he yelled, surprise in his voice. “You put your hand in the way.” “Where did they go? I have to find them, so they can be put back on.” Was he serious? I laughed again. The second shot silenced further conversation. Fingerless Frank still held shock in his lifeless eyes, unbelievable. Then there was this other wise guy, thought he was Billy the Kid or Clint Eastwood in some western movie. When he pulled his gun, he decided to show off. He spun it round and round on his finger like the cowboys do. He did it a few times to prove what a hot shot he was until it blew up in his face, literally. I needed to buy a new jacket that day. It had been almost a year since I’ve had an incident. Suffice to say I have ensured I used the stealthy approach after the last event. Though it saved my soul a little when they took themselves out, it wasn’t always the cleaner option. As I sit now in my local haunt, thinking back over strange and amusing events, over a cup of black coffee and eggs over easy, which in a strange way remind me of Scarface’s popped eyeball, I wonder about putting my stories down on paper, bringing out a collection of amusing hits. The waitress was pouring me another cup of coffee when four unkempt youths wondered in. Their eyes appeared watchful and wary as they approached the counter. These clowns were up to something, I could see it in their desperation. Each pulled a gun from the front of their pants, concealed by jackets as they entered. A wry grin touched my lips as I thought about how many guys have become dickless carrying guns in the front. Amateurs imitating bad guys from the TV and movies. This was going to be interesting. I debated over what to do. A clunk from behind me diverted my attention for a split second as I watched a young boy’s toy robot bounce across the floor. I turned back to the youths and waiting to see what they planned to do. I pulled my gun from its holster and held it low, ready. “Empty the register,” the tall youth in the front demanded. He shoved a bag towards the girl manning the counter. The other three stood back and held their guns aloft. They swung from side to side ensuring their menacing of the innocent patrons was complete. While the girl filled the bag, I debated again. I could allow them to take the money and leave. No-one would get hurt and they would be on their way. The killer in me couldn’t resist. The one who I determined to be the leader turned to the others and asked them to collect valuables from the customers. This was my cue. “How about you take your bag and leave?” I said. I lifted my weapon so they could see it. They all turned in my direction, the tall leader stepped forward and the others staggered behind. “Who the fuck are you?” Why did everyone ask me this? “It doesn’t matter. Just take the bag and leave.” “He’s got a gun,” one of the others said. Clever guy this one. His hands shook and his finger rest dangerously close to the trigger. “No shit,” the leader replied. The first thing I did when I heard the shot was wait for the sting, but it didn’t come. I flashed my eyes down and spotted no bullet wounds. “You fuckin’ shot my brother,” one of them yelled. Sure enough, lying in a bloody pool was one of the youths. Shaky shot him. One of them rushed forward and dropped to his knees. “You killed him,” he cried at Shaky. He lifted his weapon and fired at Shaky. As he went down his gun discharged, and this time took down the leader. I shook my head in disbelief. Were there any competent criminals? The remaining thief still knelt by his dying brother. The leader heaved and tried to speak. His armed hand now shook as he lifted his gun. I couldn’t move as I watched the events unfold. A final shot sounded. The leader with his last breaths took out the last of them. These young, inexperienced, gun in front of pants adolescents just saved me from exposing myself, from having to do what they just did to each other. I’d seen some crazy shit in my time but never had I seen such a botched-up robbery, such careless gun toting behaviour. This was more unbelievable then the dude who accidently shot off his own face. I heard cop sirens in the distance and knew this was my cue to leave. Not just the cafe but this life. This was a sign. It was time to write all this hilarity down. The stories were that unbelievable that no-one would ever consider them real. Amateurs. I shook my head as I walked past the lifeless bodies and out the cafe towards my new life. For Teaser Tuesday today I have an extract from Cowboy Daze - Autumn Lust - Book 3 in my Sinful Seasons Collection. Due out in July.
A sexy chick walked towards him with a determined stride and he hoped it was the lady writer. Wow, she sure was pretty. Dark blonde wavy hair in a ponytail swung back and forth as she walked. Shortish and fit, she looked like she worked out and took care of her body. As she got closer he saw her eyes were almost grey, with a touch of blue, like the sky during a storm. His reaction to her was instant and he almost had to discreetly adjust. A girl hadn’t sparked lustful interest in him for a while. JD couldn’t take his eyes off her as she approached. Her jeans and figure hugging t-shirt showed off the contours of her body. Her sexy, tight body. Colour in her cheeks indicated she was hot despite it being autumn. Coming from Seattle she would be used to a different climate. She stopped when she reached JD and stared at him for a moment. It seemed she wasn’t going to speak so he pulled himself together and saved her. “Hey there, little lady, my name’s JD, what’s your name.” “Kristen,” she muttered. “It sure is nice to meet you.” And it was. Up close her the skin on her face looked smooth like silk and he wanted to touch it. She didn’t appear to be wearing a lot of make-up as other girls do. She had a natural striking look about her. A straight nose, defined cheekbones and wide pouty lips finished off the ensemble. She was the most breathtaking woman he’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. He should stop staring and say something but she responded instead. “You too. So, I’ve come here to interview you.” “So, I’ve heard but why would you want to interview little ole me? I’m no different to any other cowboy out here.” “Not from what I’ve read about you. You win a lot of tournaments. Whether I like it or not I’m here to follow your career for two weeks.” “Well I ain’t gonna complain about havin a pretty lady following me around and I do win a lot.” He flashed her a grin. The charming one that he used on the fans and media. His public persona. There were two sides to JD but the outside world knew a different man from the one that lived on a ranch. She seemed to ignore his comment. Her grey eyes not giving anything away. “Do you want to see one of the bulls close up?” “Sure.” He led the way towards the fence and helped her step up onto it to get a better look at the bull inside. She studied it for a while before turning to him. “Wow, it’s big. It looks pretty scary to me. I can’t believe you actually get on these things.” Did he detect awe in her voice? He got that a lot. What he did was dangerous, but it was also second nature for him he’d been doing it so long. “It’s exhilarating. Trying to get one up on a powerful creature. There’s nothing like it.” I’ve decided to blog about my book crushes for this Manic Monday. There will be three lists.
The first are books that haven’t become movies or tv shows. These are mostly well-known books (for some) and there have been a lot I’ve read where I’ve had a book crush and not added it here. These are the ones that stood out for me the most. The second are books that have become movies or tv shows. These books are common ones, books that people hate to love and love to hate. They are books that have done well which is probably why they have movies or tv shows made based on them. The third is a list of authors where I like most of their leading men (books and visual) I would love to hear about other’s book crushes, I’m always looking for great new leading men. Books that are just books Alexander from The Bronze Horseman Trilogy by Paullina Simons Romi from Cut and Blow 3 by Ashleigh G Ben from The Story of Us by Lindy Dale Spencer from Red Leaves and The Girl in Times Square by Paullina Simons Lennie from the Lucky books by Jackie Collins Stubbs from Don’t You Forget About Me by Liz Tipping Rowan from Colour Me Ugly by Ashleigh G Books that are visual Jamie from Outlander series Jace from The Mortal Instruments – though there is Alec and Magnus Edward from Twilight Peta from The Hunger Games Gus from The Fault in my Stars Noah from The Notebook Eric from True Blood Authors where I like most of their leading men Ashleigh G Lindy Dale Poppet Nora Roberts Nicholas Sparks Today I have a sample from Hudson, the prequel to my Saucy Girls Series. The first five people to comment on my blog will receive an ebook copy.
“What time is it?” he asked her in the dark as he trailed his fingers across her back then front, not wanting the night to end. She peered over his shoulder at her alarm clock by the bed to check. “Nearly nine.” “Shit, I gotta go.” He didn’t move. “Can you come back later, after you’ve finished helping your Dad?” “Maybe. If I can, I will.” He kissed her, but it was different now somehow. He kissed her like a man not a boy. “I want to love you again first.” She giggled and eased him onto his back. Her trailing kisses down his chest and stomach sent shivers of excitement to tickle his skin. When she took him in her mouth he groaned. Her small full lips felt like heaven. Stacy in control, from her lips enclosing him to sitting astride him as she brought them both pleasure, would be something he vowed never to forget. At the door, they said their goodbyes and he promised to come back, even if he had to sneak out to do it. It was a short walk to his parent’s store and he hummed as he strolled. What an incredible night. His nerves had been gratuitous as it had been everything and more. Stacy was it and would always be the one. Perhaps after they graduated, once he finished his engineering degree, they could get married. He shook his head, who would have thought he would be ready to settle at seventeen. There was no rush really. Stacy wasn’t going anywhere. Before he knew it, the shop came into sight. He wandered down the lane towards the rear entry, full of contentment. Stocktake would be a lot less mundane this evening. Reliving every moment, he’d just spent with Stacy would lessen the chore. He entered to find everything eerily quiet. Where was the radio blasting out old tunes that he loved but never admitted to? “Mum? Dad?” He received no response. “Are you here? I’m sorry I’m late …” His feet were sticking to the floor. He glanced down to see a dark gooey substance covering the soles of his shoes. What was that? The unmistakable metallic aroma invaded his nostrils as he took a step forward. He noticed the sticky substance flowed towards the front of the shop. As his eyes followed the trail he noticed two feet sticking out from behind a stack of boxes. “Dad?” He ran forward, pushing the stack to the floor. He was never going to be prepared for what he saw. His father was covered in blood, his face, his crisp white shirt and his dark pants. Lucas dropped to his knees and touched his father’s chest. The slash to his father’s neck sent Lucas’ heart into his throat. Mum! Leaping to his feet, he raced to the front. At first glance all he saw was destruction. Every cabinet was smashed, and debris scattered across the floor. The register was open and stripped of cash. His mother was nowhere in sight. With a tightened chest, he went around the front counter, and his heart stopped. He threw himself upon her blood-soaked form and clasped her hand to find it cold. Her hazel eyes stared lifeless at the ceiling, her lifeblood a pool around her head, soaking her clothes, clinging to her hair. His anguished cry went unheard as he scooped her up and held her close. He searched for a long-ceased heartbeat and signs of life in her blank stare. Her blood quickly soaked his t-shirt and dampened his skin beneath. Groping overhead for the phone, Lucas somehow, in a stupor, dialled emergency services. He continued to hold his mother while he waited for their arrival. In the distance he heard sirens as he clung to her limp body and touched her matted hair. This can’t be happening. There were voices in the distance urging him to let her go. He didn’t want to; doing that meant she would be gone. He didn’t want them to take his mother away. The voices became urgent now, insisting he let her go. They were so far away, why were they asking him to move? A hand on his shoulder startled him and he turned to see a kind, pretty face, a police woman, and he frowned in confusion. The voices had seemed so distant. “Come with me,” she said. Her voice was also kind. “No, I want to stay with her.” His voice sounded foreign to his ears, shaky and desperate. “I’m sorry but she’s gone.” He simply stared at her for a moment and then back to his mother’s empty eyes. With a brief kiss on her forehead, he placed her gently on the floor. Reluctantly, he stood and followed the police woman. With heavy feet, he trailed her lead through the front door and into the backseat of a squad car. “Can I get you anything?” she asked. He shook his head. “My name’s Olivia. What’s yours, honey?” She knelt at the curb as he studied his shaking hands. The blood dark and sticky looked unreal on his skin. “Lucas.” “Is there somewhere we can take you, a relative, a friend?” “Carrie.” “Is she your sister?” He nodded. The drive home was surreal, he was living a nightmare. It wasn’t real, just a dream he wanted to wake up from. He suddenly became conscience of his blood-soaked clothes and his heart threatened to shatter. He wanted to keep it together, at least till he got home. How was he going to tell Carrie? “Would you like us to tell your sister?” Olivia asked as though reading his thoughts. “I don’t know yet.” “We’ll be right with you, if you need us, okay?” He nodded. Numb was all he felt. Wake up, please wake up. The lights from the street flashed and ebbed through the window changing the blood covering his shirt, hands and jeans from deep red to black. It was dry now and he began rubbing his hands together, wanting it gone. Who could have done this? Wake up now. The car stopped, and he looked up to discover they were home. Home. It would never be the same again. Olivia opened the door for him and he sat rigid, he wasn’t ready for this. Carrie would take this badly. He was taking it badly. “Lucas,” she urged gently. “I’ll go with you. Come on, honey, it’s okay.” Unfolding his long frame from the car, Lucas took a deep shaky breath. Olivia walked beside him as he entered the house. The TV was on, a chick flick, and Carrie’s feet rested on the arm of the couch. His heart flew into his throat and tears stung his eyes. “About time you guys got ...” She said turning to them but stopped, and then sat up when she saw the blood. “Lucas, are you okay?” Leaping from the couch, she rushed over to him. “It’s not mine.” This was the first thing he thought to say? “What happened?” Her hands were on his shoulders as she peered into his face. “Dad, Mum …” His voice broke. “What is it? Where are they?” He shook his head. He couldn’t do this. Sensing he couldn’t go on, Olivia took over. “Carrie, is it?” She nodded her response. “There was a robbery at your parents shop this evening. I’m sorry, but the thieves murdered your parents. Lucas found them. He got there late, he was lucky.” Carrie merely stared at the young, pretty Olivia. “What? This can’t be happening.” Her voice cracked, and she turned to Lucas, her hazel eyes full of disbelief and concern. “Lucas?” she asked in a trembling voice, seeking the answers from his face, his eyes. “Oh God!” She cried. Her legs buckled, Lucas caught her and then eased her to the floor with him. Her sobs racked her body. He remained silent as tears slid over his cheeks. He didn’t know how long they sat there, a crumpled heap on the floor, or when Olivia left. Life was never going to be the same again. Today I'm showcasing Jillian Ward. I have read nearly all her books, I just have one left to read! She has many titles and they all are enthralling, page turning reads. My particular favourites are Watch You Back, Keeping Christopher and He She and Him.
I'm a big admirer of Jillian's work and I believe she writes books that can resonate with many people depending on the story which are diverse and every one very different. Jillian writes stories of love, revenge, real life and marriage. Her stories are intriguing, heart wrenching and endearing. Real people with real problems that people can relate to. I think that Three Way Street shows how a marriage can change. How people that come into your life can change the way you view things. Change things for the better. Watch Your Back is a story of revenge and family. It is not for the faint hearted but this story was one I couldn't stop reading. Keeping Christopher was again about how a wife will stop at nothing to make sure her family is safe. Jillian writes about strong female characters and endearing males. Her style is unique. I highly recommend her stories. There is something for everyone. Here is the link to her Amazon Page: https://amzn.to/2K3j2l4 |
AuthorA writer of romance and nonsensical blogs. Archives
November 2020
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