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YES! It’s here. The song fiction you’ve all been waiting for because this month, the band is my freaking favourite. And please, it’s no surprise who chose this one, is it? NICKELBACK!!! The song is titled… The Hammer’s Coming Down and it’s off their new album, No Fixed Address. And can I just say… this album… damn. They just keep getting better.

Now, I know there’s a lot of Nickelback haters out there. I really don’t care. I love them. And this album has some new sounds for them. Also…I’m the only Canadian in the group, and I HAD to put some Canadian content in this subject. So, all of my song choices that come up are from Canadian artists. I’m just thrilled Nickelback came up first. So we’ll see if you can spot all four throughout the year.

And ladies… just remember. I COULD HAVE CHOSEN FOUR NICKELBACK SONGS. I COULD HAVE. But I didn’t. Because they’re only one of my favourite Canadian bands. And hey, this isn’t a drinking song or a sex song. I love it!

Okay… for those of you who don’t know the song, give it a listen…

Now, when I listen to this song, honestly what plays in my head, is one of my upcoming epic battle scenes from my serial—RED SKY DAWNING—which is starting in April!!!! Yes April. So please drop by then. It’s an all-out magical/sword fighting contest that happens near the end of the story. So you won’t see it for some time, but…yes. I can just imagine the dust, the clanging of swords, the glow of Aelwyn’s magic.

But alas, I can’t write THAT scene because…well, it’s part of the book. So, I’ve decided to write a battle scene with Rylan, the hero. Long before the story takes place. If you want to get a sense of who Rylan is, please check out the photo flash fiction from March…A picture’s worth a thousand words…. it’s a prologue into who he is. Or, just jump right in because it’s just another glimpse into that world.

“They’re flanking right.” Rylan pointed toward the moors on the other side of the river. “Don’t let them take the bridge or we’ll be cut off.”

Garreth gathered a group of soldiers together, barking out orders before sending them toward the stone structure, a tremble rumbling through the earth as their feet struck the ground in perfect precision. He turned toward Rylan, face weathered, blood smeared across his jaw and down his mail vest. His shoulders drooped for a moment before he drew himself up, heading across the open space.

Rylan scanned the surrounding countryside. The sun dipped low against the distant hills, the last rays of light just cresting the rocky slopes, bleeding the sky into a deep violet off to the east. Long shadows stretched across the land, slowly covering the mangled bodies littering the battlefield. He glanced down, hating the splatter of blood caking his armor and skin.

He’d lost count of the number of men he’d slain as he’d cut his way through the writing mass of flesh, his only focus on avoiding injury. Staying alive long enough to get what remained of his legion to safety. Save those still breathing. Blood dripped from his blade, but he didn’t have the strength to wipe it off—aware more would simply take its place.

Arglwydd’s troops had struck at dawn, the attack more calculated and brutal than any Rylan had faced yet. The sheer number of men, alone, had cost him a quarter of his warriors, the rest merely trying to keep the advancing lines in check—hold their position until they could rally…or retreat. They’d managed to limit the skirmishes to the outskirts of the small village nestled on the river, but it wouldn’t be long before one of the lines broke through—before those still seeking shelter within the tattered huts became casualties of a much greater war.

Garreth grabbed his shoulder, his hand trembling slightly as his breathing roughened. “We won’t last much longer. Not like this. For every man we cut down, three more take his place.” He shook his head. “I swear Arglwydd emptied every damn settlement between here and his precious castle to garner this much presence. Some of his soldiers look as if they’ve never swung a sword before today.”

“Skilled or not, they’re slowly gaining.”

“Aye.” He met Rylan’s gaze. “We both know there’s only one way we might come out of this alive.”

Rylan’s magic snapped just below his skin, threatening to break free of his hold. Ever since the first clash of metal, it’d been writhing within him—coiling tighter until every breath stung from the sheer force of it. Flickers of red sparked along his arms, tiny curls of smoke disappearing on the steady breeze.

He took a deep breath, once again pushing down the energy. “You know I don’t have that kind of control. Not here, with my men dying around me. Once I release it, there’ll be no stopping until I either kill them all—or it kills me.”

Garreth pursed his lips. “We’re outnumbered, Rylan. And this is just his foot soldiers. Soon, there’ll be archers, horsemen. What then? We can’t last out here against that kind of offense.”

Rylan glared at his friend, taking a few heavy steps away before turning. “Those houses are made of wood and straw. What do you think will happen to them once I release a wall of fire?”

“Better to burn our own village to the ground than to wait for Aldhaven soldiers to do it for us.”

“And the women and children hiding inside? What of them?”

“They’re dead for certain if Arglwydd’s men break through.” He glanced away. “Or they’ll wish they were.”

Rylan pushed a hand through his hair. “Maybe if I had a chance to rest. To meditate. I’d have the kind of control I need to be discriminate about what I burn, but here. Now.” He sighed. “If my father had spent more time allowing me to hone this power instead of just assuming I could wield it, perhaps I could live up to everyone’s expectations for it.”

“Roan only cares about winning. At any cost.”

“Including his son.”

“We’re all expendable. Pawns for his games.”

“Well, perhaps I want more.” He waved at the battles waging around them. “What kind of king sits on his throne when his warriors fight for his kingdom? He should be here—leading his men—not watching the sky fill with smoke from the walls of Ravendale.”

“Then call the retreat.”

Rylan snapped his head around. “We’ve never pulled back before, Garreth. Roan—”

“I don’t give a fuck about Roan or his orders. You’re my king, Rylan. Since you first saved my life in battle along with fifty other soldiers…you’ve been my king. I don’t care about ceremonies or crowns. Save your men. Live to fight another day, my friend. There’s more to your future than blood and death.”

He chuckled. “Just because one witch saw something other than swirling blackness in her crystal orb doesn’t mean anything. You know that.”

“Perhaps. Or maybe it’s a sign.”

Rylan closed his eyes for a moment, trying to block out the clattering of swords and the lingering screams of men dying on the battlefield. Garreth was right. It was pointless to fight a battle they had no chance of winning.

He glanced at his friend, nodding. “We’ll fall back. Take as many villagers with us as we can. Make our stand on more favorable ground. Sound the retreat, I’ll cover…”

A whoosh of air made him pause a moment before Garreth grunted, slamming backwards into the ground. A lone shaft poked out of his shoulder, the feathered end fluttering in the breeze.

“Garreth!” Rylan knelt beside the man, fingering the arrow. “Hold still.”

“No. Save…”

Garreth’s voice keened into a ragged cry as Rylan yanked the shaft free, tossing it aside. Blood flowed from the open the wound, pooling on the parched ground before slowly sinking into the earth—staining it an eerie red. Rylan gathered his magic, allowing a small stream to discharge, sending a finger of heat into the other man’s flesh. Garreth’s hand locked around Rylan’s, his eyes wide before his head tipped back, his scream echoing across the moors. His friend clenched Rylan’s forearm, his nails biting into Rylan’s leather cuff before Garreth’s hold weakened, his arm falling limply to the ground.

Another volley of arrows landed in a scattered pattern around Rylan, one grazing a slice across his biceps. Rylan turned, his vision bleeding into red as sparks erupted along his flesh, flaring into flames as they raced up his arms then down his torso, consuming his upper body in a blaze of fire.

He stood, his magic pushing outwards, pressing against his fragile hold until it broke, tearing a scream from within his chest. The energy billowed outwards, coalescing into a ever-increasing wall as it raced toward the river, leaving a path of charred soot in its wake. A cloud of arrows rained down toward him, the shafts hissing into flames as they struct the barrier, the remnants falling to the ground as burning shards of ash. Shouts sounded from his troops as the men dove off the bridge, sinking beneath the water in an attempt to escape the raging fire. Agonizing cries rose above the roar of the flames, the pungent aroma of burnt flesh filling the air.

A horn blared off to his left and Rylan turned, watching as a unit of Aldhaven soldiers breeched the village, torches already setting some of the huts ablaze. Women and children fled the homes, only to be struck down as they tried to run past the advancing line of men. Rylan’s magic pulsed in response, extinguishing the last of his reservations. He glanced at his friend, whispering his apologies as he started across the field, an arc of fire preceding each step. Men charged at him, none breaking through the fiery barrier as he made his way to the edge of the settlement, the dirt path baking into cracked stone-like chunks beneath his feet.

He stopped, drawing his magic tighter, allowing it to swirl into a raging wall around him. The flames crackled and hissed, the heat setting everything within reach alight. Another horn sounded as he drew his magic inward, allowing it to gain momentum before he forcefully released it, feeding the fire until the very air sparked. Pleas and cries fell beneath the weight of his power, his echoed heartbeat the only tangible link back.

Time faded into shades of red, his surroundings nothing more than the dancing flames scouring the land. It wasn’t until water lapped at his thighs that he realized he’d fallen to his knees at the river’s edge, a blanket of steam rising from the surface. His lungs burned as he sucked in a few labored breaths, his focus slowly clawing its way out of the fiery haze.

An eerie silence covered the land, the distant squawking of birds ringing through his head. Flames still flickered in the surrounding trees, every inch of the earth within his field of view charred a deathly shade of black. Moans rose above the crackle of burning wood, the mournful sound like a knife to his soul.

Rylan palmed the shoreline, head bowed, muscles cramping with fatigue when a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Rylan.”

He stared straight ahead, unable to look away from the utter devastation, even to met Garreth’s gaze. “Dark hells. What have I done?”

“We need to gather what’s left of our legion and leave. Before Arglwydd’s troops find a way to launch another attack.”

“Another attack?” Rylan stumbled to his feet, kicking up a spray of water as he took a few shaky steps before turning. “Look around you! There’s no one left alive to launch an attack. I’ve killed them.” He released a choking breath. “By all that’s holy, I’ve killed them all.”

Garreth moved forward. “They brought this on, themselves, Rylan. They—”

“No one deserves the magnitude of violence I displayed here. They’re soldiers following the orders of their king. They’re no different than us.”

“Then the blame rests with me. If I hadn’t gotten hit…”

Rylan palmed his friend’s good shoulder. “We both know it was only a matter of time before I lost control. Seeing you struck down…” He released his hold, allowing his arm to fall to his side. “The blood spilled here is on my conscience. I’m merely lucky I didn’t decimate my own men, as well.”

Garreth sighed. “What’s done is done. Even you can’t change the past.”

“No. But I can shape the future. This is only the beginning. Once Aldhaven hears of this massacre, none of the border villages will be safe. Arglwydd will send his men to destroy every living soul born of this kingdom…unless I stop him.” He waved at the desolate landscape. “Stop this.”

Garreth pursed his mouth. “Do you honestly believe Arglwydd will listen to reason? To you?”

“It’s unlikely. But I have to try.” He shook his head. “I’d rather die trying to ascertain peace than live like this. There has to be a glimmer of hope—some kind of light to end the darkness.”

“Then I’ll grab our mounts. Gather supplies—”

“Not this time, my friend. I have to go alone.”

“Rylan. I pledged my allegiance to you, and you alone. You just saved my life. I won’t turn my back on you, now.”

“I need someone I trust to lead the men. Help whoever’s left standing find their way back to the Keep. If I fail…”

“Then there won’t be enough swords—enough magic—to keep me from seeing Arglwydd’s blood spilled.”

Rylan nodded. “Ornery as always.” He took a few steps, glancing sideways at Garreth. “I owe you far more than just my life. Thank you.”

“For what? As I recall, it’s you who’s saved me.”

“For never seeing me as Roan’s son. Godspeed.”

Garreth grabbed his arm, stopping him. “I meant what I said. I’ll be waiting for your return.”

Rylan smiled. “Then I’ll expect you to save me some of the good mead and not that swill you usually try to pawn off as my share of the victory.”

“Don’t die on me.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Now go and check out the other ladies for their take on an awesome song from my favourite band… and no, I’m not even SOREry for picking it.

Jessica Jarman  |  Bronwyn Green  |  Jessica De La Rosa

Gwendolyn Cease  |  Kellie St. James  |  Paige Prince  |  Kayleigh Jones

Welcome to Wednesday randomness…and it’s March! How did it suddenly become March? Sigh. That’s what happens when you get busy, people. Freaking life just keeps on going. I always feel as if I’m running to catch up. Oh, is it summer vacation yet? Seriously, for whatever reason, we’re all just done early this year. I wanted hockey over sooner, now we’re patiently waiting for spring break, because ours is sooooooo late.

But I digress…This week’s post is different. It’s an A to Z of inspiration. Now, I’m not a hundred percent sure I know exactly what this entails, but…it seems to be anything that inspires me. So…here goes.

A — action/adventure.   Mostly, I love to write these kinds of scenes if not entire books. Like they say, if you’re not living on the edge, you’re taking up too much space. And I try to do a lot of what I write. Rock climbing, mountaineering. I can fly helicopters. Worked for 911…etc, so…

B — Badass. It’s a word. And I like my heroines to be a version of it. And it’s not necessarily physically. Intelligence is one hell of a turn-on.

C — Cover Art. Because nothing makes you want to write a book more than a beautiful cover. And sometimes if I’m making a cover for me, it helps me visualize the characters and the book even more.

D — Dog. I know, but…if it weren’t for Bandit, I might not run every day, and if I didn’t run every day I wouldn’t solve as many plot issues or have ideas for cover art near as often.

E — Exercise. Seriously, nothing frees up the brain more than working the body. Blood flow isn’t just to the heart, folks.

F — Fantasy. In movies or books. Or just in your head. I love this genre and find it so motivating. Sometimes watching a great show brings new ideas. How inspiring is watching epic films like Hobbit or Lord of the Rings.

G — Google. Because I would be lost without the prowess of the Internet. This video right here.. and there are three of these, folks…

H — Happily ever after. Mostly because we all need to believe in a happy ending. That sacrifice and suffering is worth it in the end. That even if you don’t currently have that in place, that it’s still possible. Even if it’s like a rainbow—mostly illusion—it gives us peace. A goal.

I — Imagination. Or there’d be no stories.

J — Journey. ( And no, Bron, not the musical group, though I love me some Steve Perry.) It’s like the saying for mountaineers…somewhere between the base and the summit is why you climb. It’s all about the journey.

K — (Stephen) King. For writing books that inspired me to try my own. He will always be my favourite of all authors.

L — Lyrics. Because they are stories woven to music and a giver of ideas.

M — Music. I often listen to music and it amazes me how songwriters can capture so much in so few lines. I know some of my buddies hate Rascal Flats, but damn. They have such a talent for painting a picture from a few words and nothing more

N — Novel. ( I wanted to put Nickelback here, but Paige already did, so… yeah, had to downshift into something else.)

O — Ocean. I live on an island… a couple of blocks up from the ocean. Hell, I can see it out my window… There’s just something about waves, water…the tides. Watching eagles catch fish, whales breech. It’s alluring, soothing and oh so deadly.

P — Pandora’s Box. We should all open one… just cause.

Q — Quarrel. Because as one of my fave writers has as her tagline…sometimes a fist fight is foreplay. How true is this… (shoutout to BA Tortuga, here)

R — Running. I call this my attitude adjustment. And I get some of my best plots figured out on a run.

S — Shifter. Because who doesn’t find a man who can change form motivational. And I love the challenge of writing these.

T — Thriller. Still my favourite of all the genres. And a great album by Michael Jackson. Shh, it really was. You know it. And one of the best music videos EVER.

U — Uniform. While a lot of my heroes don’t where actual uniforms, I still consider them men or women in uniform because they’ve dedicated their lives to protecting others. And they are so deserving of being a muse.

V — Vista. Hey… bet you thought I couldn’t think of a V word. And they are breathtaking out here on the west coast.

W — Woods. The only place to run and the best place to find peace and inspiration.

X — XC (cross country) I stole this from Bronwyn. But it fits. Most of my soul sisters live far away. And I wouldn’t finish half of my books without their support and wisdom. Hell, they were the ones who gave me the spark for FORCE OF NATURE, just in idle chatting. I love you guys.

Y — Yonder. Hey, it’s Y people. And I often go, yonder, to write. To find ideas. Work with me on this one. IT’S Y!!!!

Z — Zombie. WHEN THEY COME, AND THEY WILL, I’LL BE READY!

Wow… why was that so hard? Anyway, check out all the other ladies…including our new partner in crime, Paige Prince. Welcome honey!

Jessica Jarman  |  Bronwyn Green  |  Jessica De La Rosa

Paige Prince  |  Gwendolyn Cease  | Kellie St. James  |  Kayleigh Jones

So, it’s another Randomness blog, and another Favourite things edition. Only, this month it’s— Favourite Websites. Now I’m going to be honest…I’m not sure i even understand what they mean. Is it favourite websites you like to visit? Ones you find visually pleasing? Ones I’ve built, lol. Yeah, pretty sure it’s not that last one. But hey, I can dream.

Also, I’m wondering how I’ll be judged. What if one of my favourite sites is…um…adult oriented. Is that politically correct? Of course, none will (I will take those to the grave, people). And really, I’m not sure I have a lot. Yes, I spend too much time on the internet, but not sure I have a bunch of favourite sites. I’m usually just surfing.

But in the spirit of the blog, here is a list of some of my favourite websites, in no particular order…

1 — Tumblr. And I’ll come clean. I like the naughtier side of Tumblr. Some of the beautiful images…hotter than the sun, folks.

2 — All Romance ebooks. I do enjoy this site. I often pick up books from here. And I’ll even just use it to look at cover art, especially in genres I don’t write.

3 — MEC. This stands for Mountain Equipment Co-op. It’s a Canadian Outfitting store and I buy most of my clothes from here. For running, riding, and just hanging out. I love their stuff and I love seeing what’s new. I have technical gear from here, too. Climbing gear, mountaineering gear…you name it.

4 — Beachbody. They have a great forum with tons of folks that answer fitness questions and groups to join to help motivate you if you need that. And I love their stuff, so…I still love this site.

5 — FaceBook/Twitter. Not sure this is a favourite by choice. It’s more a necessity. Honestly, I’m not a great doer of social media. I’m trying. So…I guess that counts.

6 —Amazon. I do look at this for lots of reasons. Again, it feels like a bit of a necessity, but… I do use it to look stuff up.

7 —Wiki. This has to be hands down one of the places I turn for research all the time. There are some great resources there and a place I go to for more books.

Now, I could mention, Pinterest. I enjoy it but I rarely go. Not sure why. There’s lots of shit on there but… And I know there are probably other places I go. I just can’t think of any. Honestly, I mostly want to look something up then google it. It’s that simple.

Now go check out the other ladies. And I swear if Jess Jarman put on Web MD…

Jessica Jarman |  Bronwyn Green  | Jessica De La Rosa

Gwendolyn Cease  |  Kellie St. James

It’s picture flash fiction Monday. And wow… lookie what the image is this month. It’s so pretty. I’d love to have one of these in my house, or in the yard—reflecting sunlight. But alas, I’ve got nothing people. And the dog would probably use it as a toy, anyway.

So I’ll have to be content with just writing my tale. I know the past two images were part of a continuing story. And honestly, I’d thought about revisiting my favourite college kids, but…this image ties in nicely with my upcoming Serial…what will undoubtedly be an obscenely long novel—I’m predicting 100K. It’s titled… RED SKY DAWNING. It’s a fantasy adventure story with a theme of enemies to lovers. I have a couple of partners in crime that are going to be joining me with their own amazing stories—but that’s for later.

For now, I’m going to offer you a short prequel of sorts. A glimpse at a moment in the hero’s life long before he becomes the focus of my book. I hope you enjoy it…

“No.”

Rylan stood outside the worn tent, feet braced apart, arms crossed on his chest, staring at the tattered flaps that snapped in the late evening breeze. Shadows played inside the small space, glimpses of flickering candlelight visible between the fluttering pieces of canvas.

Garreth slapped him on the shoulder, stepping up beside him. “Ah, come on, Rylan. It’s all in good fun.”

Rylan glared at his friend. “If you’re so enthusiastic, be my guest.” He waved at the opening. “Have the old witch read your fortune because I already know my future.”

“Do you, now? And what’s that? That you’ll be king? Find yourself a pretty maiden and make a few heirs to the throne?”

Rylan firmed his jaw, ignoring the flash of power beneath his flesh. Garreth was just trying to lighten the mood. Give Rylan something other than war and battles to focus on. Perhaps a glimmer of hope.

He held his magic in check, glancing at the tent. “We both know maidens and heirs aren’t in my future. Blood. Death. A kingdom with little hope of ever seeing peace—those are what lie in store for me.”

“There’s more to life than fighting your father’s battles, Rylan. You’ve done nothing but train and wage war since you were old enough to hold a sword. Since your magic gave your father a far more powerful weapon than he ever imaged.” Garreth placed his hand on Rylan’s shoulder. “Maybe it’s time to consider ending this fight with Aldhaven. Find a way to do what Roan never could.”

“And what’s that, Garreth? Win?”

“Make peace.”

Rylan scoffed, breaking his friend’s hold and taking a few heavy steps away. “Peace? They raid our lands, pillage our towns. They kill women and children alike over a patch of earth that barely grows enough food to feed a family, let alone a village. Don’t you think my father would make peace if there was peace to be found?”

“We do the same to them. Kill them just as swiftly, as indiscriminately. Over that same piece of parched ground. My sword bears as much innocent blood as any Ravendale soldier. Maybe more.” Garreth paced over to stand next to him. “Tell me. Do you even know why we’re at war? Does anyone even remember?”

Rylan held Garreth’s gaze, the truth of the man’s words settling hard in his gut. How many times had he pondered that very question? Asked his father—King Roan—what stood between them and a world without bloodshed?

Rylan ran a hand through his hair. “What would you have me do? I’m not king. Not yet.” He snorted. “Chances are, I’ll give my life for Ravendale long before I sit on any throne.”

“Make Aldhaven an offer. A show of good faith. Give them a reason to want to end this war as much as we do.”

“And what shall I give them? My life? Yours? My father’s crown?” Rylan shook his head. “I’ve heard the rumours, same as you. They say King Arglwydd merely sits on a pedestal like a puppet on a string. Controlled by a sorcerer whose magic is equalled only by his thirst for more power.” His shoulders drooped, the sheer weight of the knowledge draining his strength. “We both know there’s no reasoning with men like that.”

“Then be the kind of man that dares them to walk away. To decline your offering. I’ll stand beside you. Every warrior you’ve ever accompanied into battle will stand beside you. You’re more than our prince. You know that.”

Rylan scrubbed his hand down his face, giving Garreth a smile as he laid his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “And here I thought you wanted me to seek my fortune? If this is what the witch will tell me, I don’t think I want to venture inside.”

Garreth slapped him on the back. “You’re just afraid she might tell you, you’ll live long enough to have a woman rule over you. That the mighty Rylan—heir to the throne of Ravendale—will be struck down by love, not a blade.”

“There are a number of possible futures in store for me, my friend, but love isn’t be one of them. That I’m certain of. My father’s already had my fortune read by every gypsy in the kingdom.”

“Then this one won’t come as a surprise.” Garreth motioned to the flap. “Need I remind you that you lost our bet three moons ago. I will consider that debt paid if you simply go inside. Give the lady a chance to see something new.”

“If it’ll stop this endless chattering, it’ll be worth hearing my dismal fortune yet again.”

Rylan ignored the smug grin Garreth flashed him as he strode toward the tent, brushing aside the flaps in one quick motion before entering the dim interior. Coloured scarves hung around the perimeter of the small space, creating a rainbow of speckled dots across the ground. Candles bathed the area in a soft glow, the scent of sage and jasmine heavy in the air. He looked over his shoulder when the flaps snapped behind him, fluttering a few more times before suddenly stilling—the beige cloth hanging limp in the doorway.

“Come in, Prince Rylan. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Rylan snapped his head around, staring at the beautiful woman standing beside a small, round table. Golden hair hung down to her waist, her green eyes sparkling amidst the shadows.

She motioned to a chair angled in front of the table. “Please. Sit.”

He covered half the distance, still gawking at her. “How do you know my name?”

“You’re the Prince of Ravendale. Everyone knows your name.”

“Not this close to the border. Most people wouldn’t give me a second look.” He frowned. “But you’re…”

“What?” She smiled. “Not what you expected?” She moved gracefully to the chair opposite the one she’d offered him. “Would it ease your mind if I were older? If my hair was a dingy shade of grey? If my skin showed signs of experience—of days spent labouring in the fields? Does my appearance unnerve you, My Prince?”

“This has nothing to do with your appearance and everything to do with the fact you claim to be a witch.”

She laughed, the lilting sound oddly relaxing. “I believe the word you seek is seer. I’ve never claimed to be a witch. I don’t possess magic in the way you do. Mine is the gift of sight.”

“And that precludes you from being a witch, how, exactly?”

“Are you so hardened that you can only see the world in black and white?” She motioned to the chair again. “We both know your curiosity outweighs your hesitation. So please…sit.”

Rylan eyed her for several heartbeats, glaring at the doorway when he heard Garreth mumble something about paying his debt through the flaps of the tent, before continuing over to the seat. He pulled it out, scanning the room once more then sliding onto the hard wood. The legs creaked as he shifted forward, placing his elbows on the woven cloth covering the surface of the  table. His gaze focused on the large, crystal orb centered on the fabric, a multitude of colours swirled through the glass.

She joined him, studying him in return. Her gaze felt strangely intimate, as if she could somehow see inside him. A frown curved her lips, her brows furrowing. “You carry a heavy burden, young Prince.”

He didn’t reply, wondering if this was the best she could do.

She nodded toward the ball. “You don’t believe I can see your future, do you?”

“I believe you want me to believe you can.”

“You think all you have before you is death. Blood to be spilled on the battlefield. Your blood.”

He grinned, wrapping one arm around the back of the chair as he leaned against it. “I’m a warrior. That’s to be expected.”

“And you believe this is where you’ll die? On the battlefield, serving your father—your kingdom?”

“Even if it had not been foretold by countless seers, such as yourself, my future holds no mysteries, madam. No one wins every battle.”

“What if I were to tell you, they were wrong? That they couldn’t possibly foresee what your future holds because it becomes a black mist within the ball?”

“A black mist?” He edged toward her. “Is that not my death?”

“It symbolizes change. The end of one life but the beginning of another.”

“Must you speak in riddles?”

She shrugged, waving her fingers over the smooth glass. A white cloud stirred within the crystal, swirling like a building storm. She hovered over the ball, gaze fixed within it debts. “So much pain. So much suffering.”

Rylan squared his shoulders. He knew how this story ended. Had been told it numerous times. Why Garreth seemed to think Rylan would get a different version mystified him. He was a warrior. He’d die in battle.

The woman gasped as pure, golden light burst from the orb, filling the room with an angelic glow. Heat warmed his skin, stirring his cock beneath his breeches until it sat hard and heavy against his stomach.

Rylan pushed to his feet, drawing his sword as the light gathered strength, curling around him like a loving caress. His skin prickled in response, the image of a woman wavering in his mind before quickly vanishing. The light dimmed, turning to orange before slowly fading, nothing but the ghostly echo of his name ringing in his ears. He spun around, searching the small space before settling his gaze on the woman. Sweat beaded her brow, dark circles smudging the flesh beneath her eyes.

He stormed to the table, grabbing her by the collar. “What foul sorcery do you practice, witch? What do you hope to gain by lying to me?”

The woman’s breath raked across his wrist, the harsh sound catching him by surprise. Rylan released her, uncertainty building in his muscles.

She took a few laboured gasps before finally lifting her gaze to his. Tears shone in her eyes, her obvious pain etched in the fine lines around her mouth. “It cannot be.”

He huffed, rounding the table—grasping her arm and lifting her to her feet. “What? What did you see?”

She stared at him, eyes rounded in horror, mouth slightly open.

He gave her a firm shake. “Speak, seer. What did you see?”

“Light. Pure, light unlike any I’ve ever seen. It’s…inside her.”

“Her? Who?”

The woman sobbed, tugging against his hold. “I must go. It’s not safe…”

“Tell me what you saw, witch, or I’ll strike you down.”

The woman looked up at him, all traces of smugness gone. “I saw a woman…standing beside you. Her arm marked by the gods, themselves. She’s…”

Rylan shook her again. “She’s what?”

“The answer. To everything.” She leaned in close. “To you.”

And that’s it for me, folks. My introduction into my serial… I can’t wait to show off the cover I made and start in on this new adventure. I hope you’ll join me alternating Mondays starting soon. It promises to be a fun ride.

Now dash off and visit the other ladies. See what they came up with this month.

Jessica Jarman  |  Bronwyn Green  |  Kayleigh Jones

Jessica De La Rosa  |  Gwendolyn Cease

Okay, so the great blog gods cleverly decided to have some posts where we simple drown the page with pictures or we write very few words. I secretly believe this is just a way to let us do a blog post without having to think. But hey, that’s just me. And any excuse NOT to have to write a huge amount of words is a good one in my books. Especially when these ‘flash fiction’ stories never end up being just five hundred words, lol. But then it’s not surprise that I am long winded. This introduction being case and point.

Anyway, today’s topic is…myself, my life, my family in five words or less.

FIVE FREAKING WORDS. THAT’S IT! This, of course, goes against all my training (ha, I’m a professional people. Don’t try this at home) but, in the spirit of adapting, I will play along—be nice in the sandbox and all that.

So here are my FIVE WORDS OR LESS…

I AM GROOT…

Seriously, I think that says it all. And if you haven’t seen Guardians of the Galaxy, you won’t get that reference, but…think about it. Didn’t he embody pretty much the kind of person you’d want to be. Strong. Protective. Innocent yet wise. Self-sacrificing and kind. Beautiful on the inside. Yes, that is my answer.

Though for those of you who want a more…conventional one… here you go. And this applies to all of the three above.

Chaotic.

Unequivocally Canadian.

Wonderfully Flawed.

Now please check out the other ladies and see how they accomplish this mighty feat. Probably far more gracious than I.

Jessica Jarman  |  Bronwyn Green  | Jessica De La Rosa

Gwendolyn Cease  |  Kellie St. James

Welcome to another addition of Musical Flash Fiction. A monthly piece in which a song is chosen and we use either the title, the theme or a line as a basis for…. something, lol. This week’s selection is Angels of Silences but Counting Crows. And can I just say—damn, this was a hard one. Seriously, I’m sitting here trying to decide what to do. I’d had a idea, then abandoned it, then decided to continue with my previous story the last time we did the music flash fiction.

I know…it seems to be a theme with me, but…I have this problem with getting attached to characters and damn, I’m not ready to let them go. So be forewarned…next month might be one more installation. Or there could be none or it could go on all year! That’s right, keep on guessing…

Either way, here’s my story. If you’d like to read the first instalment, you can go here. Or just jump right in. Oh and if you’d like to listen to the song first, check it out…

“Witness for cross-examination.”

Grace Brogan took a deep breath, the stern voice echoing through the courtroom. The judge nodded to the Defence Attorney, signalling his turn to question her. To try and pull her testimony apart—destroy the last bits of pride and humanity she had left. She glanced at the man sitting in the chair opposite her seat. Black suit, hair combed back. Only his tie showed any colour, the red pattern nearly identical to the one he’d worn when he’d killed her brother. He narrowed his gaze, his mouth lifting into an evil grin as he mouthed words regarding her fate.

She clenched her jaw. She’d come too far to back down—to recant. The ghosts that haunted her dreams still too real to have found redemption. She given up everything—whatever family she had left—to bring her father down. The untouchable Francis Brogan. Only she’d found a way to blindside him. And he’d need more than empty words to scare her.

His lawyer rose, papers rustling between his fingers, chair scraping across the floor. The sound prickled her skin, making her heart rate jump. A soft cough sounded off to her left, and she turned, Ronan’s gaze finding hers. He nodded, giving her a genuine smile as his hand rested on the hilt of his weapon. Her focus dropped to the handgun, the black holster blending in with his pants.

She forced herself to swallow, twisting to face the attorney who’d made his way into the centre of the small space in front of her. The man glanced from Ronan back to her, his expression fading into a leer. Just another person her father had bought. Blood money. The kind that never washed off. She hadn’t realized how easily friends and family could be owned. Paid for and delivered. That’d they’d fade like footprints in the rain. She looked around at the people gathered behind the railing—not many would stand beside her now. Hell. None.

Except Ronan.

He’d been there. First, as the man who’d vowed to keep her safe—then as a lover who’d helped her heal—was helping her. God knows she wasn’t anywhere close to being whole. Clean. But Ronan had given her the strength to try. To face the man she’d once loved and look him in the eyes as she replayed every gruesome detail. Every sin she’d committed in the name of family.

His attorney cleared his throat, nodding at the judge before turning his sallow eyes on her. Beady with more black than colour, he reminded her of a bug—disproportioned. He drew himself up, slowly making his way to where she sat next to the judge, nothing but a hunk of wood separating them.

He tilted his head. “Ms. Brogan. You’ve testified that your father, the defendant, Francis Brogan, is guilty of murdering both your mother and your brother. And that you witnessed such atrocities on the twelve of May, two thousand and fourteen. Is this correct?”

She steeled her determination, reminding herself he’d try to twist her words. Implicate her. Make it seem as if she’d turned against her family. Or maybe he’d claim she’d helped the son of a bitch slit her brother’s throat. Had bathed in his blood pooled on the floor. Either way, she needed to remain calm. Focused. Removed.

She squared her shoulders, imagining Ronan’s hand cupping one as she stared at the lawyer. “Yes.”

The man nodded, flipping through his notes. “Is it also true that you didn’t report these murders until three months later—on August twenty-third?”

Her nerves cut her breathing slightly, the air suddenly thick. “Yes.”

“I see. So you’re telling the court that you waited three months to report the brutal slaying of your family. That you did nothing for over ninety days.”

A shiver worked along her spine. Guilt. She leaned forward. “That’s correct.”

“And you claim that this…disparage of justice was due to threats by your father?”

“If you call having him choke me until I passed out a threat, then yes.”

The man’s eye twitched. “Yes. You’ve provided numerous photos of bruises and lacerations…none of which you can unequivocally prove were done by your father’s hand.”

He raised a brow, but she kept her mouth shut. She’d been warned that sometimes not answering was less damning than trying to voice her beliefs.

He stepped closer, resting his forearms on the wood partition between them. “I’m afraid we didn’t hear your answer, Ms. Brogan. Can you prove these injuries came from your father?”

“The photos are date stamped. There are servants from within the home that saw him. Though I’m sure my father’s bought them off by now—that’s if he didn’t outright kill them.”

“Objection, Your Honour. Conjecture.”

“Sustained. The witness will stick to the facts.”

She drew her chin high. “No. I don’t have a photo of him trying to strangle me or punching me across the room. But they were able to collect his DNA from beneath my fingernails after the last incident.”

“Yet no injuries were discovered on your father when police went to check.”

“That’s only because it was over a week later—”

“So your injuries could have been sustained in any number of fashion…such as struggling with your brother before you cut his throat?”

Bile burned the back of her tongue, the acrid taste threatening to empty her stomach on the polished oak surface. “My brother outweighed me by eighty pounds.”

“The facts, Ms. Brogan.”

She released a frustrated breath. “Yes. My injuries could have been sustained by other means…but they weren’t.”

The guy’s smile widened. “Isn’t it true, that this is all a coverup?”

“No.”

“That it was you who bludgeoned your mother then stabbed your brother?”

“No.”

“That you killed your family in order to rise in rank and get a larger share of your father’s inheritance?”

“No.”

“That the reason you waited so long was because you were plotting to kill your father, as well, but had to flee when he discovered your treachery? That he’s the innocent in all of this and you struck a deal with the Marshal Service in order to protect your own guilt?”

Images flashed in her head, her brother’s lifeless eyes lingering in her mind. She should have stood up to the man that night. Had the courage to die with the rest of her family. Instead, she’d kept her mouth shut. Gathered evidence then escaped. Ronan shuffled closer, the soft sound grounding her.

Grace steadied herself, knowing she’d have to say the words out loud before she could vanquish them. “Oh, I’m guilty. Of not having the guts to strike out that night. Of allowing my fear to rule me. Of waiting until I had enough proof to put his ass away for life before I left because I knew nothing short of complete annihilation would be enough to stop him. Nothing short of offering my soul as tribute would see justice served.” She glared at her father. “I’m not afraid of you. Not anymore.”

“Enough. The witness is reminded, again, to stick to the facts.”

She nodded. “Yes, Your Honour.” She turned back to the man. “No. I didn’t kill my family and I didn’t plot to kill my father. Though you’re right about why I left. He’d discovered I’d been taping meetings, phone calls—and I knew he’d kill me once he caught me.”

The lawyer raised a brow, but paced across the room, spinning when he reached the juror’s box. “Tell me, Ms. Brogan. Do you know a U.S. Marshal Ronan Foster?”

Her stomach clenched. God, they were going to do it. Drag Ronan through the same bloody hell she was in. “Yes.”

“And what is your relationship to Marshal Foster?”

“He’s the Marshal assigned to me for protection.” She glanced at him out of her peripheral vision, hoping he wouldn’t be upset when she surprised them all with simply telling the truth. “He’s also my lover.”

A gasp rose among the crowd, more than a few gazes straying toward Ronan.

Her father’s lawyer tapped his chin. “I see. And as the marshal’s lover, is it safe to say you’d do anything to protect him?”

“That’s a fair assumption.”

“Including kill?”

She stilled the sudden trembling in her hands. “He hasn’t asked, and I haven’t acted.”

“I asked if you’d be willing to kill for him.”

“And I can’t answer that as the situation hasn’t arisen. Though I know he’d never ask.”

Beth Granger stood, the militant DA palming the table. “Objection, Your Honour. Relevance?”

The judge sighed. “Do you have a point, Counsellor?”

Her competition nodded. “It’s well known that Marshal Foster’s partner was killed in the line of duty shortly before he took this case. It’s also well known that said partner had ties to the Brogan family business. Marshal Foster was implicated in his partner’s death, and only cleared a few days before being assigned to Ms. Brogan when some mysterious photos were discovered clearing him. Photos taken using the same camera as that of the witness during the time she was allegedly being abused and threatened by her father.” He glared at Grace. “Seeing as she’s admitted to have a sexual relationship with him…”

“Objection.” Beth sighed. “Unless the defence has evidence proving that either Marshal Foster killed his partner or Grace Brogan did, I don’t see how any of this pertains to the case.”

“The evidence suggests that Ms. Brogan was the one who provided the DA with the photos that cleared him. That they’re working together to frame my client and claim his fortune.”

The judge glanced at her. “The witness will answer the question.”

Grace sighed. “Yes. I took the photos that eventually cleared Marshal Foster, though I didn’t know it was him until after he’d been assigned to my case. And for the record, I haven’t taken a dime of my father’s blood money.”

Her father’s attorney laughed. “So we’re just supposed to believe you? After all this? Makes one wonder what else you’re hiding.”

She looked at Ronan, smiling at the pride staring back at her. She turned, focusing on her father as she chuckled. “Is this the best you have, daddy? You think by dragging Ronan’s name through the mud you can discredit him? Discredit me? Well, I hope your money bought you more than that because it’s not enough. Do you remember what you used to call me? An angel of silence. That’s what you wanted me to be. I don’t think I really understood what that was…until now. And I’m here to say—my silence is over.  I’m not going to back down and no amount of questioning will change the facts—I win. Even if I only live long enough to see you standing behind bars. I win.”

Okay… that didn’t go anywhere along the lines that I had envisioned. But for better or worse, that’s my flash of fiction. Please check out the other ladies… you won’t be disappointed.

Bronwyn Green  |  Jessica Jarman  |  Jessica De La Rosa

We all knew this day would come… the topic that those of us who are single dread, lol. Okay, it’s probably just me. And I’ll own that I probably just have issues…ISSUES PEOPLE. And it all stems around this one question—DO I BELIEVE IN LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT, SOUL MATES AND DESTINY?

Such a loaded question. Politically speaking, I have to say yes…after all, it’s my livelihood. Characters in books often don’t have the luxury of ‘time’. You only have a finite number of pages to create their romance, and readers really don’t want to waste chapters on all the awkward beginnings…or middle sections. Authors need to hit the highlights of a couple’s journey. Not endless dates at the café drinking coffee. This means entire books are built around the concept of falling in love quickly. And completely.

Realistically…it’s an odd concept. Mostly because we, as people, change so much as we grow. Finding that one person who ‘completes’ us—and will for the rest of our lives—is far more challenging than it sounds. And knowing that person is right for you with nothing more than a single meeting?

You can see the issue. It’s almost a no-win situation. So, I’ll have to fall back onto my own personal feelings… dangerous territory people. Though it sort of is the purpose of the blog. Hey, this is a scary topic…I need latitude here.

My personal answer is… YES. I do. Though I have yet to succeed in this area, I remain a hopeful romantic. I have a few amazing friends that I knew would be life-long buddies from the first moment I met them. I remain optimistic that I might, yet, find someone who makes you feel this way romantically. Or maybe it’s just my determination not to give up, lol.

Though I do think that even soul mates, or couples that fall fast and hard have to work to make love last. Because the story doesn’t end once they fall in love. There’s still a lifetime of living left. And that’s what puts any love affair to the test.

But at the end of the day…I think everyone wants to believe in the concept, if for no other reason than to maintain faith. And I need a mountain’s worth of faith.

And while you’re at it, check out this awesome song (where I borrowed the title from) that my oldest has been listening to. Oh, young love…it also gives me hope, even if I am a bit jealous.

Check out the other ladies…see what they think.

Jessica Jarman  |  Bronwyn Green  |  Jessica De La Rosa  |  Gwendolyn Cease

Last month, our favourite things were superheroes. And I had a comment or two that I seem to like heroes on the darker side of the spectrum, lol. So obviously I’ll have fun with this month’s topic: Favourite things—VILLAINS.

It’s funny, because I actually asked if I could include a couple of these characters for the superhero post—only to be gently reminded that they weren’t really…heroes, lol. But I see them as redeemable, or just plain awesome. So without any further ado… here are my favourite villains.

LOKI

Please, I can’t imagine this guy won’t be on everyone’s list. He’s the perfect villain. Tormented, somewhat betrayed. I think he has a good heart, but just can’t find it. So, for now, he’s on the wrong side of the law, and I love it. The hair… god, his hair. And his face. Who am I kidding. I pretty much love everything about Tom Hiddleston.

CROWLEY

Again, you all knew he’d be on here. Because hello…SUPERNATURAL. And who doesn’t love to hate and love Crowley. He’ll stab you in the back, steal your soul and make you want to pull your hair out. But damn, you can’t help but admire the King of Hell (and who I’d love to meet at any freaking crossroad).

MAGNETO

Poor Eric. He didn’t start off bad, but…what’s a mutant to do when humans keep on pushing your buttons. And I like Eric in both incarnations. As Ian McClellan and Michael Fassbender. His power…and in his mind, he’s not evil. He’s merely protecting his kind. He also crosses the line. He saves some, while destroying others. Definitely a fave villain. And can I just say… Michael Fassbender… the guy is so freaking hot. Seriously.

SPIKE

Okay, so he might have changed sides at the end of Angel, but he is still a villain in my opinion. And that hair. The poor guy had to bleach it like every week, lol.

THE PREDATOR

Okay. So maybe not all of the movie do this guy justice, but…you can’t help but admire him. He kicks ass. He’s cloaked and damn, that clicking noise he makes. My boys can imitate it and it’s creepy as hell. Definitely a force to be reckoned with. And I can’t be the only one who wanted him to win— more than once, lol.

KHAN

Benedict Cumberbatch. Khan. Do I need to say anything else. No, No I do not.

And that’s my list. Please hop on over to the other ladies and see who tops their favourite villains.

Bronwyn Green |  Jessica Jarman  |  Jessica De La Rosa  |  Gwendolyn Cease

 It’s flash fiction Monday again and the ladies have chosen a lovely image of a picturesque home by a river in what could be fall, winter or even late spring, lol.

After some debating, I’ve decided to continue my previous picture flash fiction. You can find that one here…. Part 1—Kris’ picture fiction.

But despair not, you don’t have to have read that first short bit. Each one will be fine if read all by its lonesome. So, without further ado… here is part 2…

“What if she doesn’t think it’s romantic?” Graeme James stared at his buddy, Ryan’s, reflection in the mirror as Graeme ran his fingers through his wet hair. Fuck, he should have gotten a damn haircut. Instead, the strands fell in a tousled mess about his head, slightly longer than he usually wore.

Ryan scrubbed his hands down his face, shaking his head. “For the last time—Bailey’s going to think you’re a god damn wizard.”

“Or…she’s going to think I’m a perverted son of a bitch who can’t think past getting in her pants.”

“Graeme. Bro. Everyone knows that’s your end game. It’s everyone’s fucking end game. And it’s not like this is your first date. You two have been going out, what…three times a week…for nearly a month.” He leaned against the wall. “Any other guy would have made a move by now.”

“Why does not trying to take her to bed make me odd?”

“It doesn’t. It makes you a nice, respectable guy. Which is why she won’t see you as a perverted son of a bitch for going somewhere romantic. Trust me. Taking her to the cottage…it’s brilliant.”

Graeme let his head fall forward, staring at the drops of water slowly sliding down the sink. He couldn’t remember feeling this off-kilter around a girl before. The way his heart sped up, his pulse echoing inside his head. Or how his stomach got all fluttery, and he couldn’t tell whether he was excited or about to empty his stomach. Christ, kissing her, touching her—he’d never worried before whether he’d measure up.

Ryan’s hand landed on his shoulder. “Stop over-thinking this. I know you’re crazy about her.” He laughed. “Everyone knows you’re crazy about her. Take her to the cottage. Have a couple of days alone together, and if you end up in bed…” He shrugged.

“I just don’t want to fuck this up.” He glanced up at Ryan’s snort. “You know what I mean, jackass. Bailey…she’s special.”

Graeme flipped off his friend when the man turned, enthusiastically air-humping the wall. He headed out of the washroom, grabbed his keys, bag and jacket off the chair by the door then ventured outside. While Ryan was without question his best friend, the man didn’t know how to be serious. Ever. Of course, if it hadn’t been for him, and that stupid English Lit assignment they’d bet on, Graeme never would have asked Bailey out.

He smiled, going over every detail of the weekend as he drove to the apartment she shared with her twin brother—an annoying fact that made getting intimate far more complicated. There was just something unnerving about knowing her sibling was only a wall away. That and the fact Graeme didn’t want to rush things. Didn’t want her to think sex was the only reason he’d asked her out.

He pulled up to the curb, texting her he was outside. A swirl of snow breezed across the windshield, the glare of the setting sun glinting off the fractal ice patterns on the glass. A shiver of excitement wove along his spine, leaving a rash of goose bumps across his skin. Who was he kidding? He hadn’t taken things slow because he was worried she’d peg him as a player—he’d taken them slow because he liked her. And he had a bad feeling that once they became lovers, he’d never be able to go back to being the guy he was before. That she’d change him without even trying. Hell, he’d change regardless.

A tap on the passenger window startled him from his thoughts, and he glanced over, smiling as Bailey waved at him. He jumped out, grabbing her bag before stowing in the trunk beside his. She was already seated when he slid behind the wheel again, pulling into the evening traffic.

Green eyes watched him, her thick auburn hair hanging in gentle waves around her face. The woman was far too stunning, and his heart skipped a beat when her mouth curved into a radiant smile.

She stared out the window for a moment then settled her gaze on him again. “So…you going to tell me where we’re going, or is it still a big secret?”

He grinned at the slight annoyance in her voice. She’d told him more than once she wasn’t a fan of surprises, which made this all the sweeter.

He shrugged. “Somewhere…secluded.”

Her eyebrow kicked up. “Is this your subtle way of telling me my brother is a buzzkill?”

“Let’s just say hearing him hump the flavour of the week through your bedroom wall isn’t exactly my idea of a romantic atmosphere. Besides, it’s been a tough month—stress with school, part-time jobs. I thought we could both use a weekend without cell phones and annoying roommates.”

“You didn’t tell me not to bring my phone.”

“Didn’t have to. Service is going to be spotty at best.” He glanced over at her. “Worried?”

She laughed in a way that warmed the interior of the car. “Please. My dad’s a detective. There’s no way the man hasn’t already done a thorough background check on you.” She twisted in her seat. “Seeing as he hasn’t had you arrested or placed an armed guard by my side suggests you’re trustworthy. Besides, I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

“Is that so? And after a month of dating, what does your spider sense tell you about me?”

She shuffled closer, placing a hand on his thigh as she brushed her fingers slowly up and down the denim, skirting dangerously close to where his damn cock pushed against the fabric. “That you’re not like other guys I’ve met. Dated. You’re…special.”

He forced himself to swallow past the lump in his throat, simply nodding as he turned onto the highway. He did his best to ignore the searing heat of her fingers against his leg, the rhythmic movement slowly driving him mad. Desire burned just beneath his skin, threatening to unhinge his control.

Bailey seemed oblivious to her affect on him, carrying on idle conversation as they headed north, leaving the city behind them. Dark mauves lined the horizon, a gathering of clouds reflecting various tones of red. Her voice echoed around him, the lilting quality to it holding him captive. It wasn’t until he pulled off the highway an hour later that she bothered to look outside the vehicle. Snow-ladden evergreens and barren branches filled the landscape, the first twinkling stars shining in the night sky.

She arched a brow as he turned onto an old gravel road, bouncing the car up a long laneway. A warm glow beckoned in front of them, the light from the old cottage gleaming in the darkness. He stopped a couple of hundred yards off where the road turned into snowy grass, a lazy river sparkling in the rising moonlight.

Bailey stared at the house, mouth gaped open, eyes widened. She glanced over at him several times before she shook her head, looking at him as if he’d given her something far more precious. “This is my surprise? Our secluded getaway?”

“On our second date, you told me that if you could live anywhere, it’d be in a rustic English cottage somewhere on the moors. I can’t quite manage a trip to England, but I thought maybe this would give you a taste of that dream.”

Her chin quivered before she leaned over, slanting her mouth over hers. Warm, sweet woman filled his senses as her tongue danced along his, her fingers cupping his jaw. He hummed against her lips, threading his hand through her hair, tilting her head back to deepen the kiss. Her eyelids fluttered when he finally released her, nothing but brilliant green filling his field of vision. Raspy breath raked across his face, her chest heaving against his.

He smiled. “Does that mean you like it?”

“Like it?” She swallowed thickly. “Graeme…this…you…” She thumbed his cheek. “Is this your parents’ place?”

“Na. It belongs to my annoying roommate. His grandparents left it to him a couple of years ago. He comes here every now and then to recharge. He let me borrow it for the weekend.”

“Ryan? Ryan Baxter? The same Ryan who had a bet to see how many Cheerios he could stuff in his mouth at once, Ryan?”

“He’s…unique.” Graeme drew his fingers down through her hair. “We came up yesterday. Fully stocked it. All it needs now is you.”

“Us.” She glanced at the cottage, a devilish smile capturing her lips. “Is there running water? Electricity?”

“Yes, and yes. A generator, but sometimes it breaks down. But there’s a fireplace and more candles than inside that new age store. I just hope you don’t think that I brought you here simply to …” He gestured at her.

“What? Get laid?” She laughed again, twisting away as she grabbed the handle. “No. I have no doubt that you never assumed that.” She opened the door, stepping into the growing darkness before sticking her head back in. “But for the record, it’s a toss up as to whether we make it inside, or I take advantage of you in the front seat of your car.” She shivered as a gust of wind sprinkled snow across her face. “Definitely inside. Last one in has to make the fire—naked.”

She took off, her feet kicking up tiny snowballs as she dashed along the winding path, heading for the front door. Graeme jumped out, taking a moment to watch the simple beauty of her before closing the door and sprinting after her. He just wasn’t sure if he wanted to catch her or not.

And that, is where I’ll end this. Mostly because, damn, it’s becoming a damn novel, lol. Please check out the other ladies and see what the picture inspired with them. Until next month…

Jessica Jarman  |  Bronwyn Green  |  Kellie St. James  |  Kayleigh Jones