As 2015 approaches, I’m making my list of projects for the coming year, and when I plan to have them finished. Some are set in stone (Publishers kind of like to know when they’re getting stuff… ;)…), but I decided to try something a little different, and have my readers weigh in on what you want to see, in 2015. So, from my upcoming self-publishing ventures, I’ve created a little poll, where you can vote for the series/books you most want to see released before the end of 2015. Be sure to cast your vote! 🙂
Calliope McKinney has the dubious honor of being a member of one of Mars’ famous First Families, and Psi. But when her position as a member of a prestigious family places Calli in the middle of a fight for the survival of all Psis on Mars, she’ll have to decide where her loyalties lay, and whom to trust, because if she’s not very careful, she could end up dead.
“Dangerous Bait” – Excerpt from DEAD MEN… (Section Psi, Book 4) –
“What are you doing, Calli?” Cade murmured the words into the headset, aware she could hear him, but that she couldn’t respond while the mark was with her.
“Sounds to me like she’s got his number.”
Cade turned toward MCAR Homicide Detective Stefan Theonides, seated next to him in the surveillance flier, and scowled. None of these people got Calli – not like he did. Even the people she worked with; hell, even her own brother, from what he saw of Lance McKinney, didn’t get Calli like Cade did. He knew what drove her, how isolated she felt out here in the real world. It wasn’t that she couldn’t relate, either. She tried harder to be noticed than anyone he ever met. Like now.
Cade swore beneath his breath, wishing he knew more about Martian culture, so he could properly profile how dangerous this creep was. The anxiety that threaded through Calli’s voice told him he probably wouldn’t like the answer.
He heard Calli’s sharp intake of air, and a noise like some kind of weapon being released, and tensed.
“Talk to me, McKinney,” he ordered in an undertone. They’d been unable to set up visuals, in case the perp was watching the park beforehand, and now that lack could put Calli’s life in danger.
“What do you need a shankblade for?” Calli’s voice came through clear, but Cade frowned at the unfamiliar reference. He glanced at the man beside him as Theonides swore beneath his breath.
“A shankblade is a weapon crafted up on Satan’s Tit. It’s a titatone blade, housed in something innocuous-looking, and undetectable to contraband scanners. Usually, the blades are coated in nuerotoxins.”
Cade’s blood froze.
“Calli, get the hell out of there!”
“I think you know,” came the cold voice of their mark, closer than it shoud have been to the microphone. Hell, it sounded like the asshole was breathing in her ear.
“What do you want?” Calli’s snapped response was followed by a rustle of movement that Cade hoped like hell was her moving out of range.
“Why, the Muse, my dear. She will make such an interesting addition to my…collection.”
That tore it! Cade was on his feet, and across the surveillance flier’s bay before he heard another word. He’d just reached the door when a scream reverberated through the vehicle that sent terror slicing through his soul.
Look for the first book of Section Psi, ILLEGAL PURSUIT, coming from Esther Mitchell and Desert Breeze Publishing, soon!
Marine Captain Tamia Kuan is no stranger to war. Raised in war-torn Tibet, and then turned loose with the street gangs of Old San Francisco, Tamia is living proof that no matter the crisis, the strong will survive. On the streets, she learned to bury her heart to survive, and, but the end of the world war known as the Divide, that survival depended on no longer having a heart at all. But one man’s doubt in her innocence will turn the tables on her, and force her to free her heart. For, in the midst of one of the deadliest counterespionage missions of her life, the one thing that saves her life could be love.
“Confrontation” – Excerpted from TAMIA (Underground, Book 1)
The sound of voices, from Communications, reached him. The first shivered along his awareness, and he knew instantly that was Tamia. The other was familiar, and male, but Rick couldn’t place it. His brow furrowed as he wondered what happened; Rick strode across the command center to the open door of Comms, and froze as the green-eyed monster reared its ugly head.
Tamia sat at the console, her head bent forward so that her hair fell across her face. Behind her stood Matt Clipper, a grin on his face that Rick wanted to pound out of him as the darker man’s hands massaged her exposed neck and shoulders, wringing a small groan from the woman.
“God, that’s good.” Tamia’s voice was tinged with laughter. “Okay, so I stand corrected. You do have God’s hands.”
A shaft of pure rage avalanched through Rick at sight and words combined. Dammit, if he couldn’t touch her, he sure as Hell didn’t want anyone else pawing her, either! His eyes narrowed. Matt and Tamia were both products of the streets; they probably had more in common than he and Tamia did. Just how close were these two, anyway?
“I keep tellin’ ya, Chinagirl. Black is be—” Matt stopped as his gaze flicked over, and met Rick’s scowl. Rick watched with dark humor as the other man’s eyes widened, just before his hands fell away from Tamia and he muttered, “Oh, shit.”
“Why’d you stop?” Tamia asked from behind the curtain of her hair, then straightened to look around. “What’s the mat—? Rick!”
Matt swallowed hard and took a step away. His eyes moved nervously to the outside door of Comms. “I’m outta here. See ya later, Blade.”
With that, he beat a hasty exit, Rick’s glare following him into the corridor. As soon as Matt was gone, Rick turned his frustrated rage on Tamia.
“What the hell was going on in here?”
“Not that it’s any of your business.” Her posture was instantly defensive. He knew he took the wrong tack with her, but damn it all, he was too pissed to care. And he sure as hell couldn’t tell her why he was pissed. Especially not with that red fire that flashed in her eyes. “Matt just stopped in to drop off his mission notes. He was helping me work the kinks out of my neck and shoulders.”
“Damn it, Tamia!” He stalked over to her, yanking her seat around as he bent over her and let her see the frustration that burned in him. The flicker of fear in her eyes lasted only for a second, but it was enough to turn his roar of frustration into a hot accusation. “What is it with you? Do you get some kind of rise out of tormenting people, or something?”
She jerked away in clear anger as she rose to her feet and grabbed up a file. She ignored him as she headed for the Command Center. At the door, she finally stopped to look back at him. “I don’t recall doing anything of the kind. Just who am I supposedly torturing, anyway?”
“Me,” he growled. He caught her just inside the doorway as he dropped his head to cover her lips in a punishing kiss. She gasped against his mouth, and the sound of paper hitting the concrete floor filtered through his consciousness, only to be swept away by a raging flood of hunger as he drank in her sweet response.
Get your copy of TAMIA today at Amazon.com !
Thought I’d share a few of the trailers I recently completed with you, here. The following are from some of my currently available books/series…
And my favorite of the new trailers…
More to come, as I get them completed… As always, please leave comments and let me know what you think. 🙂
This is a brief excerpt, drawn from an alternate timeline series I’m working on. When an archeologist from our world stumbles across an artifact in the Siberian steppes, he has no idea what he’s actually stumbled upon, until he finds himself in a world both alien and vaguely familiar. To get back to his own world, he’ll have to find the key to using the amulet he found. The only question is: If he finds a way back, will he even want to go?
“Lost Magic” – Excerpt from THE DOLPHIN’S LUCK (Icarian Chronicles: The Carnelian Amulet, Book 1) —
Brandon sighed. He didn’t want to open this can of worms – didn’t every TV show dealing with space-time continuum issues say messing with the world you landed in only ever ended badly? – but he couldn’t very well ignore her question.
“The world I come from has all but forgotten magic, Sasha. It’s replaced wonder and awe with science and logic.”
Her brow furrowed. “You are mocking me.”
How he wished it was that simple. “Not a bit.”
“So, in this world where no magic exists, there is no war?”
He tensed, aware she wasn’t going to like the answer to that question. Her world was built on the black-and-white concept that if magic ceased to be, so would all the fighting, and all the terrible things that happened in the course of war. Eyes closed, he shook his head. “Quite the opposite. War, fighting, and killing are practically a way of life, some places in my world. Most places have crime – people who hurt and kill others for stupid reasons, and even for no reason at all. To be honest, I think in losing magic, we lost the little bit of our souls that kept us honest.”
Once upon a time, I started a historical series based around an old legend I found hidden in the stacks of the AFB library. It was a medieval legend of a female pirate, and while it was little more than a footnote in a book on Scandinavian and Russian history, it fascinated me, and I set out to write the account of a female pirate in 12th Century Europe.
Only, I was never really happy with how it came out. I adored the character, but she just didn’t fit her era right, and the politics of the time period made some of the aspects of her story border on the unbelievable. I just was never happy enough with it to really think about publishing it as more than a lark.
And then came the most wonderful idea… I realized it didn’t have to be history as we know it. I had other options! And, in early 2002, I started redrafting Sasha’s story into an Alternate History/Speculative Fiction series… And from the characters and background in her story grew an entire series. This series considers the possibility that Christianity never took hold, and that magic and mysticism prevailed. The continental shift happened differently, leading to a completely different allocation of resources and civilizations, and eventually to a power struggle within the ruling family/caste of the world, between the religious/spiritual and the pragmatic, warrior caste.
And thus was born the Icarian Chronicles, into which I would eventually introduce someone strange to their world, whose understanding of history I will proceed to totally warp. :). But, for now, the series starts several years before Sasha’s birth, with her parents.
“Imperial Blood” – Excerpt from THE EAGLE’S MISTRESS
(Icarian Chronicles, Book 1) –
Nira returned to her teacher’s side, tugging the shawl up around the old woman’s frail shoulders to ward off the evening chill. With a fond smile, she settled on the low stool beside Malisina’s chair.
“Tell me what you know of him, Mala,” she plied eagerly, curious to know everything about the man who came to disturb their peaceful home. “What kind of man is the Emperor?”
“Emperor, bah!” The older woman fluttered a scoffing hand through the air. “That pup is no more Emperor than I am the Goddess Efri!”
Nira’s eyes widened. This was the first she ever heard gentle Malisina speak ill of the new Emperor. “Have a care, Mala! He may mean to cause us harm.”
This brought a chuckle from Malisina, even as one trembling hand reached out to stroke her face lovingly. “Ah, my sweet child, not you. You have the power to show yon fledgling Eagle the error of his ways. Besides, I mean him no harm. I only tell them as I see them, and he is not yet an Emperor, and nor shall he be fully so, as long as our own sweet Mistress Eleindra draws breath. I fear those two shall be the death of us all, child, if one is not soon tamed.”
Nira drew back, puzzled. Malisina had a tendency to ramble, of late. Some whispered that she grew feeble-minded, but Nira wondered. Malisina was gifted with the Future Sight of a Truth-Sayer. Could her words be prophecy, not mad ramblings? A cold chill brushed Nira’s skin.
“What do you know of him, Mala?” She pleaded, clutching her guardian’s hand.
“Nothing to cause such fear, sweet child,” Malisina assured her gently, her wise old eyes sparkling. That look, alone, told Nira her teacher was far from mad.
“Impatience, child,” Malisina scolded her, a familiar rebuke. Then, a soft smile turned up the woman’s lips. “Very well, I will tell you what I know. Yon Eagle has been groomed for this day since he was in leading straps. He was harnessed for war before he sat upon his first horse, or flew his first war bird. And yet, there is a sadness to him that speaks of a man who wishes for peace. You must remember this, child, or all that would come after you is lost.”
The warning furrowed Nira’s brow, but she nodded and scooted nearer. What Mala meant, she had no idea, but she would remember. Indeed, how could she ever forget these words?
“Eleindra once told me that her brother drew the blood of war from his own wrists. Some say there are scars there – marks of a boy who does not yet understand the man his father’s death created. And yet, he is strong, with great courage, and even greater arrogance. I believe they breed such qualities into all of Imperial blood, myself.”