Tag Archives: sacred woods

March 24, 2013 · 12:52 am

Peeking At My Killer My Love

My Killer My Love, a story of ultimate sacrifice

My Killer My Love, a story of ultimate sacrifice

For other great excerpts, check out Sneak Peek Sunday

***

Again that smile decorated his face, this time tinged with an exasperation she could see without her glasses. He shook his head, and the auburn curls fell around his shoulders with more grace than her own silvery-blond hair ever managed.

“It means much more than that, but you do not seem prepared to listen at this time.”

He fell silent, standing very still by the fireplace. It was as though he sought to become one with the ancient stone and wood. Telling herself she was definitely hallucinating, she faded into sleep.

Once the woman slept, he moved more freely. With the stealthy tread of a stalking wolf, he searched the darkening rooms, letting his senses hunt for a specific location. He settled in a corner window seat, bathed by the moonlight inching its way toward her bed. Many puzzles existed here, and he knew he was not yet prepared to face them. He breathed deeply, then more slowly, his body becoming motionless. The atmosphere around him thickened, a silent wind lifting his hair away from his face then dying abruptly. After a long moment of hushed tension, he emitted a sound of exasperation. The answers had never come to him easily before, why should now be any different?

He studied the woman. Even in her sleep, her thoughts spoke to him in unclear muttering, a not unpleasant sensation. He wondered about the part he had been sent to play and knew the ending would not be as originally planned. He could no longer think of her as he had been instructed.

This small, fearful female had given him something he had forgotten existed. She had given him back his laughter. For that alone he would protect her beyond life.

***

My Killer My Love is available at Amazon, Black Opal Books, Smashwords

Happy Reading

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January 22, 2012 · 5:27 pm

Who comes up with this stuff?

With Tom bedridden, we watch a lot of television. It’s not like we can dash into town, so we bring the outside world to us. Television being what it is, we see a lot of commercials. So when a new commercial aired, with the slogan “It’s the (fast food breakfast sandwich) of [fill in the blank]” We looked at each other and said “HUH?” Do they mean it’s cheap and tasteless? Really bad for our health? Highly overrated?
What WERE they thinking?
Then you have the commercials for male enhancement products. And aren’t those fun to be watching? You get to the cautions, one of which is to let your doctor know if you have blurred vision. Wasn’t it a mantra when we were younger “you do that, you’ll go blind?” Or was that for an earlier time than most remember?
What WERE they thinking?
Car insurance commercials. We’re going to buy insurance because a weird little rodent, excuse me reptile with an accent says it’s a good idea? Because a Neanderthal gets offended, or a pig squeals? Really? A snide talking baby is going to get me to invest money I don’t have?
And we’re supposed to believe getting a cut rate cell phone service immediately turns normal people into rude morons who think they can afford anything they want because they’re saving a few bucks each month?
Who comes up with these ideas and more to the point, who approves them? Even more to the point than that, who pays any attention to them?
I will give kudos to the silly extreme snowboarding truck. And whoever came up with the disclaimer of “overly dramatic dramatization” no doubt creates at warp speed.
Maybe writing makes me a bit too critical. Or maybe it’s because I write for adults and the commercials are geared toward?????

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January 14, 2012 · 12:33 pm

They Call it Respite

I can’t believe how long it has been since the last post. Might have to do some extras to catch up since so much has happened. Let’s talk about respite, a term used in hospice care to identify a relief period for the caretaker, when the patient is moved to a facility.
In December, Tom was advanced enough to handle a short trip, and I needed to go to a meeting in Florida. Hospice care chose the best facility with an open bed, and he was moved there on Monday so I could fly out on Tuesday, spend time visiting with my father and youngest brother on Wednesday, then go to work on Thursday and Friday.
While he was at this facility, our expectation was he would be assisted in the actions that take two people, and since he was in the care of trained professionals instead of a harried writer, his care would be better than he had at home.
Well, yeah. Ahem. Let’s just say he now appreciates home care much more than he did before, and we’ll leave it at that.
Skilled Nursing Facilities, nursing homes, elderly care–whatever you want to call it–are necessary. But I wonder how many people realize what it’s like to spend the end of your days in the care of strangers, at the mercy of an overworked staff? It might behoove those who have never been to a SNF to check them out some times. I’m sure some are better than others, and as I said they are necessary when there is no family available to tend to the elderly. Communes have pretty much gone out of style and our lives have become too hectic to be burdened by elder care.
So Tom came home the next Saturday, slept like a stone the first few days, and was most grateful for his morning cup of cocoa. The time away hadn’t lost too much momentum in healing, but we’ll come up with something else next time I need to go away.
In the meantime, Lex Valentine did a fabulous trailer for My Killer My Love, introducing me to a new favorite band, Chickenfoot. Black Opal Books has picked up my short contemporary romance (working title Teach Me To Forget), and we’ve had our first snow of the year. So there’s a lot more to share.
Trailer for My Killer My Love

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November 11, 2011 · 9:38 am

Life: the Good, the Bad, the Wonderful

Three weeks ago today, hospice care delivered a hospital bed to our living room, and life as we knew changed dramatically. The acute care hospital doctors had advised there just wasn’t anything else to do with Tom but “make him comfortable,” since he just didn’t have that much longer. He couldn’t swallow safely, they said. He couldn’t digest food, they said, so he couldn’t take in enough nourishment to heal beyond what he’d already accomplished. Even if he could digest, his appetite was non existent. Besides, they said, survival for a Whipple procedure is abysmally low.
So he came home, where he could look out at the high plains and eat “whatever he wanted” for as long as he had left. He immediately started to eat very small amounts of egg custard, fruit, and non gluten foods, and I accepted whatever time was blessed to us. Except the anticipated two weeks went by quickly, and he was eating more of those small meals. A few blackberries or strawberries. Half of a non gluten toaster waffle. We found out he couldn’t deal with dry food (such as a biscuit) and his digestion wasn’t processing much meat.
Because his digestion was processing. The canned liquid poured into his feeding tube had gone straight through him, do not pass go, do not collect those $200.00. My suspicions of an allergy were dismissed, since this was the most digestible food available.
Yeah, right.
This morning when I asked if he wanted blueberry pancakes (thanks Bisquick for the non gluten baking mix,) he didn’t just say “Yeah, okay.” Instead, after far too long with no appetite, he started to fantasize about pancakes with lots of butter and syrup. Which he got, though the syrup is an agave/maple blend. And he ate most of a small pancake with gusto.
The processing continues now at a regular rate. I know it seems odd to be excited by the end result of digestion, maybe you have to be a nurse or a dog breeder to get really excited about quantity, consistency and color. But anyone who has not processed a meal correctly knows the colon rules.
Today I’m putting a pen in his hand and giving him a pad of newsprint so he can start drawing exercises. If he’s going to heal, he’s going to draw again. In the meantime, in between meals and clean ups and shifting dogs around, it’s NaNo–National Novel Writing, where writers around the world put rear in chair and fingers on the keys to pound out at least 50,000 words of an original novel. I’m working on a book related to the one I just signed a contract for.

Tom's t-shirt design for 2003

Yep, in the midst of chaos, I managed to polish up a second manuscript, and Black Opal wants to publish it.
If you don’t hear much from me for the rest of November, I’m working on my book, or cooking something else that makes Tom happy. Or maybe putting in a few hours with my wonderfully patient employer. Life isn’t perfect, but it is wonderful.

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July 27, 2011 · 8:07 pm

It’s all about timing

This is a somewhat self indulgent post, maybe because I’m working on a rather nice New Mexico red.  Or maybe because I’m seeing that light at the end of the very long, very dark tunnel

Last Friday the husband started to come back to life and respond to the world around him.  He’s still got that long road ahead, but he’s starting to take more steps forward than back. Unfortunately he can be impatient.  Last night he fell out of bed, I think trying to get home.  Oops.  No harm done but he’s just not the patient sort of patient.

I’m not exactly patient myself and I was SO glad to hear from my wonderful editor at Black Opal Books that My Killer My Love will be releasing in paperback a whole month early.  Right now the link says September 10, but I’m assured it will be August 10.  http://blackopalbooks.com/index.php/en/component/content/article/21

I’d like to think the timetable for healing would also be moved up but more likely he’ll be pushed down the road to an intensive rehab by then, and maybe be home by September.  We can dream, can’t we?

In the meantime it’s definitely time to stop lolly gagging around and get back to work on editing the story of a young woman who has to learn how to trust after her childhood was ruined.  Working title is “Teach Me to Forget.”  So I’ll be blogging about the husband and hospitals, and also about books and writing.  We all need our relief valves.

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