Trinity is Now Available!

One witch, one cat shifter. Add one wolf. Blend. Safety glasses recommended.

Renee Parcell loves her life. Her smoothie/coffee cart business is successful, and she’s deeply in love with her boyfriend, Galen. He makes her laugh, he’s gainfully employed, and he satisfies her as only a sexy cat shifter can. He even puts the toilet seat down.

Yet they both sense something in the air. An anticipation that leaves them both unsettled.

Tall, blond and gorgeous Jack Meyers, Enforcer of National Pack and one of the most beautiful men Renee and Galen have ever seen, stumbles into Renee’s life and the riddle of their expectation is solved—Renee is Jack’s mate. What surprises them all is when the three of them touch, magick creates an unexpected triple bond of witch, cat and wolf.

Even as they learn to navigate the steamy intricacies of their bond, a threat looms over Renee. First in the form of resurrected memories, then in the shape of darker magicks someone is aiming at her. Set on stealing her inherent powers—even her life.

Renee can stand to lose almost anything, except her mates. But there seems to be no talking them out of laying everything on the line for her…

Catch it at My Bookstore And More and Books On Board as well as other digital publishing outlets like the Sony store and soon, Amazon’s Kindle store.

Research is No Substitute

I’ve never traveled in a starship, never lived in a castle in 12th century England, and I’ve certainly never cast a spell that turned a bunch of crushed herbs into a murder of crows, but that hasn’t stopped me from writing about them. However, meticulous research can only take me so far. There’s nothing like walking in the dirt I’m going to write about to add that touch of realism to a story.

When I wanted to write that spell-casting novel, I set it in Memphis and immediately decided to take a road trip. Memphis is only three hours down the road from me, so not a terrible jog. I spent the weekend there soaking in the atmosphere of Beale Street and walking along the edge of the Mississippi. I interviewed a police officer, took pics of his uniform and squad car, hit a few bars and a voodoo shop. I got the feel for the setting of my novel, listened to the cadence of the voices around me, smelled the air and experienced the weather—just to add that little kernel of truth at the center of my fantasy.

When I wanted to write a story about a couple of corrections officers working in a demon-infested prison, I interviewed my daughter and son-in-law who were guards at the time, but that wasn’t quite enough to help me feel grounded in the story. I applied for a job at the prison, walked past the gates under the eye of an armed guard in a tower into the administration area where I watched porters buffing floors. I didn’t get to see the housing units, but I know how the place looked from the outside and some of the inside. I saw the prisoners’ and guards’ uniforms, could smell the disinfectant and wax, felt that chill trickle down my spine when those heavy gates closed behind me—again, it was enough to ground the story in reality.

When I wanted to write a story about a search and rescue worker who specialized in cave rescues, I did the research, knew what equipment was common, what techniques are used, but I needed more. I fell back on my own experience rappelling in the Army and in college, and I spent an afternoon with a fireman who talked about his most daring rescues. Then I went to some of the public caves in the Texas Hill Country to get those sensory details I needed.

I’ve traveled most of Europe and have photos and memories to draw upon. I’ve walked through numerous ruined fortresses and castles. I know their size, where they were built, what it looks like from the top of the battlements. I’ve been to the museums to see medieval clothing, armor, weaponry and art. And now I have my books to fill in the details of the things I don’t know—like sapping techniques and how to clean out the cesspit. When I write a medieval historical novel, I have some basis of truth to begin with and I can weave the rest of the story around it.

Some authors do quite well just hitting the books, but I like to get a “feel” for my setting and my characters’ occupations as much as I need to fill in the blanks of my knowledge with some Internet surfing. When I went to a roller derby match with friends last Saturday, no amount of movie-watching or online research could fill in the pictures that strobed through my mind. I know the size of the arena, who attends the matches, how the women dress, how they sound when they play and especially when they fall. I watched how their bodies moved, smelled them up close after they’d been at it a while. I could write that roller derby queen now. Just have to hit the internet to figure out the rules of the game.

I’m heading out on a cruise to the Caribbean with Sasha White in December and I expect to come back with fodder for many stories. I’d never attempt a cruise ship story without actually experiencing it. Some things I have to live first before I can write them.

If you’d like to see some of the places I’ve gone recently in search of truths central to my stories, check out my blog travelogue: Delilah’s Travelogue

Candy Houses…now available

Want an excerpt?  of course, if you just want to buy… *G*

Candy Houses
Candy Houses

Blurb:

So you think you know fairy tales? Guess again.

Grimm’s Circle, Book 1

Greta didn’t get her happy ending her first time around. And now that she’s a Grimm—special kind of guardian angel and official ass-kicker in the paranormal world—romance is hard to find. Besides, there’s only ever been one man who made her heart race, and the fact that he did scared her right out of his arms. Now Rip is back. And just in time too, because Greta needs his help.

On a mission he knows is going to test all of his strengths and skills, the last person Rip expected to see is the one woman who broke his heart. Working together seems to be their only hope. But, when faced with a danger neither of them anticipated, the question is, how will they face the danger to their hearts—assuming they survive, of course.

_______________________________________

It came at me, a silent rush of death. At the very last second, I spun out of the way and felt the blast of air as it swiped out at where I’d stood only a heartbeat earlier. The thing’s hands ended in claws that measured close to three inches long.

The skin along the back of my neck prickled as I once more started to circle away from the bocan, weaving around it in nonsensical patterns. It made another rush and this time, instead of moving aside, I went down and sliced upward. Black, bitter blood covered me as I managed to break skin. It shuddered, but I figured out very quickly that while I’d hurt the demon, I hadn’t slowed it down. It slashed out as I scrambled away. Those claws got closer that time.

And then again. This time it caught me. I bit my lip to keep from screaming as the claws managed to get me in the belly, slicing me open. Blood flowed.

Shit—

A hand came out of nowhere and grabbed me, hauling me aside.

Dazed, I fell against the crumbled rock wall at my back and watched. I was in a state of shock, I think. I didn’t recognize the man at first…well, not consciously. My body probably would have, if I hadn’t been losing huge quantities of blood through the gashes in my belly. I whimpered and shrugged out of the blood-soaked jacket I wore and balled it up, pressing it to my wounded stomach.

The flesh was already knitting back together. I could literally feel it, deep, deep inside. It was a bad injury. If I was still wholly human, I’d be dead already. As it was, I was losing a lot of blood. Even us pseudo-immortals get weak when we lose too much blood.

Sinking to the ground, I watched as the man fought the bocan.

He was a lot more equipped to handle the thing than I was, that was for sure. The bocan tried to gut him with those lethal claws but the man moved away, quick as a wish. I saw one hand disappear inside the long coat he wore—something about that coat, the way it stretched over his shoulders, tickled a memory. I wouldn’t look at his face. Thinking about it now, I know why I wouldn’t look, because I knew in my heart who he was, and I needed to prepare myself a little bit more before I actually looked at him.

Instead, I focused on his hands…and on the very awesome weapon he’d drawn from inside that long, black coat. It was a black cylinder, maybe two, two and a half feet long. Yeah, I know, that doesn’t sound too flashy. It would do some serious damage to a human, probably even a number of manifested demons.

But a nine-foot-tall bocan?

Nope. Right up until he twisted it, I wasn’t impressed. But then he twisted it. I heard the whisper of metal as two edged blades appeared, one out either end of the metal cylinder.

Now it was five feet long, and bladed on both ends.

He used it like an artist. He moved like a dancer of death. The silver flashed through the air. His body barely seemed to touch the ground before he was moving off again. Eerie, deadly and oh so lovely to look at. In a rather morbid way, of course.

Black blood stained the metal as he sliced through the bocan’s scales.

The bocan hissed.

The man just laughed. That laugh. I knew that laugh.

Rip…

Just before I passed out, I finally let myself look at him. I found myself staring at his familiar profile. An ache settled in my heart and it followed me as I went under.

*

Rip had problems.

He had all sorts of problems. He had one dead demon on his hands. He had one unconscious, young adult female on his hands. He had one unconscious, not-so-young adult female on his hands—and she was injured.

His body screamed at him as he crouched beside Greta. Along his left arm, he had a series of gashes, three of them, each one of them a good seven inches long and deep. Very deep, because they weren’t healing fast. The bocan had managed to tear into his muscle, and the muscles had to knit together before the skin could. So he was still bleeding.

But not as bad as Greta.

She was pale, even paler than normal. That milky, fair complexion was ghostly and even though he knew she couldn’t die from the injury she’d taken, his heart skipped a few beats and then took up residence in his throat. To reassure himself, he laid a hand on her neck, felt the warmth and the life of her.

It didn’t help much.

He was going to relive the night’s events a thousand times over in the years to come—the nightmare of seeing the bocan come this close to gutting her, and he had been too far away to do a damn thing.

What were you thinking?

She had faced down a bocan with pretty much her bare hands. She’d had a knife. A paltry blade in her right fist as she’d circled around the demon. Bocans were too fucking big, too fucking strong, and that hide of theirs was like armor. Knives just didn’t cut it.

He shot the dead creature a nasty look and wondered where in the hell it had come from. Bocans were uncommon in the world because they didn’t have the abilities a lot of other demons had—they couldn’t manifest, couldn’t possess. They just killed.

A bocan. The paraisei he’d faced earlier. Something weird was going on. Demonkind didn’t ever gather together in one place for long—it attracted too much attention, the sort of attention that ended up them being sent back to the netherplains.

What in the hell was going on?

Greta shifted under his hands. Under her breath, she whimpered quietly and Rip, without even thinking about it, bent over her and pressed his lips to her brow. “Hush, angel. You’re safe now…you’re safe. Sleep…heal.”

His heart broke a little as she burrowed close to him.

buy (looks like it’s live at Samhain’s store front now)

If you have an Amazon kindle, you can preorder now.

Riding in with another devil

I’m pleased as punch to announce Devils on Horseback: Zeke is now available in print! Wahoo!

Zeke is the third book in the series and he was by far the hardest devil to tackle. I think it’s because he’s the most self-controlled, the cool-eyed blond with a spine of steel who never lets himself lose control… or does he? *evil grin* Part of the fun in writing such an alpha hero is the satisfaction of making him lose control.

He’s stubborn, bossy and suffering. I had to find a tough heroine, one who had been through her own private hell, to be Zeke’s mate. Naomi is a woman who’d survived by her wit and instincts. She knows there’s something different about the new sheriff of Tanger but she won’t simply give in because he pushes her. Oh, no, she makes him work for it y’all.

I am including an excerpt below, this is the first time Zeke allows Naomi to see beneath his shell. It’s sweet, sexy and tender. Enjoy!

***

A cool man, a fiery woman, a love destined to ignite.

Book 3 of the Devils on Horseback series

Intense, reserved and known for his strategic thinking, Zeke Blackwood has struggled to find his place in the post-war world. After the violent death of the first woman to capture his heart, Zeke retreats into a whisky bottle—until he’s handed the position of town sheriff.

Zeke sobers up and tries his damnedest to be the best lawman he can be. He hadn’t counted on the tempting new saloon girl to jeopardize his cold, unhappy existence.

Naomi Tucker is a survivor, a woman who made it through the war on her own wit and strength. She hoped moving to Tanger, Texas would bring her the peace and stability she yearns to find. Instead she runs head-on into a cool-eyed sheriff who welcomes her to his bed, only to push her away.

The wildness of the West is far from tamed. It threatens the town’s efforts to rebuild, Zeke’s bond with the Devils—and his fragile relationship with Naomi. As Zeke’s hold on sobriety slips, he and Naomi must choose between settling for half a life apart, or embracing all they could be. Together.

***

<strong>Excerpt:</strong>

Zeke sat on the edge of the bed and held his face in his hands. A dull throb in his head was joined by an ache in his ribs. Those boys had lit into him good. Normally he’d be able to hold his own against two men, but with the small space in the cell, he’d had no room to maneuver. Bastards.

He was more angry than anything and fully intended on charging them with assault. A judge came into town every month, should be easy enough to request he come sooner.

He stretched, wincing as a sharp pain gripped his back. With a groan, he lay on the bed and closed his eyes. Doc Barham had given him a little bottle of laudanum, but Zeke hated to take it since it made him lose control. With his behavior of late, losing control had become a problem. It certainly got him in trouble with the two drunks.

When a small knock sounded at the door, Zeke clenched his jaw.

“What?” he snapped, unwilling to talk to Lee about what happened.

“Zeke?”

Naomi’s quiet voice made him sit up too fast. He gasped against the rush of blood through his head. She must’ve heard him because she opened the door and peeked in.

“Zeke?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” Zeke didn’t want to admit to himself how glad he was to see her. The petite woman had gotten under his skin in the last two weeks, to the point her very presence actually made him feel better. Damn, he was supposed to be avoiding saloon women, not consorting with them every chance he got.

“Can I come in?”

She shouldn’t be alone with him in his bedroom though, no matter if she worked at the saloon or not. He was the sheriff and no doubt the old cronies on the town council would fire him if they knew. Zeke was well aware of all of it, yet it didn’t stop him from inviting her in.

“Please.”

Not only had he thrown caution under her little feet, but he’d said “please” too. Zeke knew then his plan to keep his distance from Naomi had failed miserably, and he started to shake. The urge to sling back a shot of whiskey roared through him.

“I met Gideon and he told me what happened. I was, well, I was worried.” Her confession dropped into the silence of the room.

Zeke, for the first time in his life, was overwhelmed by a woman. The sincerity of her tone and the fact she’d been worried about him made his throat close. Soft comfort and words from women hadn’t been prevalent in his life. His mother had been weak and dependent on his father, then him, for everything. Naomi had taken a lifetime’s worth of experience and reduced it to dust.

She stepped into the room and closed the door, her rose scent washing over him. He clenched his teeth and swallowed, trying to dislodge the words stuck there.

“Are you okay?”

He sucked in a shaky breath and swung his legs around the side of the bed, then patted the spot next to him. His thirst, pain, embarrassment and discomfort forgotten, he could only see her. In the moonlight, she looked ethereal, like an angel come to visit him. It seemed the preacher had been right in his description of her.

Naomi sat down gently, almost as if she was afraid, and peered at him in the dim light. “Zeke, I—”

He put his hand against her lips, their softness making his fingers tremble. “You shouldn’t be here alone with me.”

She smiled beneath his hand. “I want to be.”

Zeke cupped her face and tried to read what lurked in the hazel depths of her eyes. All he saw were shadows and uncertainties, a common theme in his life the last five years. He knew he shouldn’t be with her, but for once he was going to do what his heart told him.

God help him. He was listening to his heart.

“You didn’t get hurt in the brawl, did you?” He tried to find a topic to keep his mind, and his body, from focusing on kissing her.

“No, we hid behind the bar.” She smiled. “Thank you for coming to stop it again. You seem to be quite good at being a sheriff, for a new one, I mean.”

He chuckled at her teasing. “I suppose. It ain’t hard, well I guess it is sometimes.” He pressed a hand to his aching ribs.

“Are you all right? Gideon told me you were hurt.” She covered his hand with hers.

“I’ll live.” He pulled her hand up and kissed the palm. Zeke felt a shiver snake through her at the touch of his lips.

“I’m not sure what’s happening, Zeke.” She gazed at the palm of her hand. “Why did I come here?” she sounded as confused as he was.

“Probably for the same reason I came to your bed.” Zeke’s body began to react to being closer to hers. It wasn’t just a sexual reaction, it was something else too. That something else was unidentifiable, and it scared him.

Yet he didn’t ask her to leave.

She nodded, her blonde hair sliding over the dress with a soft sound. “I’ve been fighting for survival for three years, and now it seems I have to fight for something else.”

“What’s that?”

She met his gaze. “My heart. You knocked me sideways, Sheriff, and I find myself liking it.”

Zeke knew exactly what she meant. “I don’t want to be responsible for your heart, for anyone’s heart. The last year has brought me nothing but misery, and I can’t seem to get myself out of the hole I dug for myself. I don’t want to subject you to the same hell.” His voice had descended into a hoarse whisper full of emotion.

She took his hand, her little fingers wrapping around his in comfort, bringing a lump to his throat.

“I understand. Lucy told me about Allison. I’m so sorry.”

The mention of Allison made his stomach clench. Once upon a time, she might have been his wife. Now she was just another ghost in his heart.

“She’s gone, and I’m still here. Now you’re here too.” He squeezed her hand. “I just want to be sure you understand I ain’t looking for anything from you.”

Zeke sensed she didn’t believe a word he said, yet she remained silent. He hadn’t wanted a woman getting under his skin, but it was too late for that.

“Kiss me.” Her husky command sent a shiver down his skin.

“Are you sure?” He knew she should leave, get away before their sexual relationship continued, but he couldn’t seem to let go of her hand.

“Kiss me.” This time her voice was firmer, and he obeyed.

He lowered his head and kissed her, capturing her breath into his mouth, inhaling her essence. It began slowly, but the heat between them flared to life.

Their previous encounters had been fierce matings, full of passion and animal instinct. This time it was gentle—for the first time they were making love.

What's Next? And Not…

I’ve been meaning to blog about this for a while but I either forget or I’m too slammed so I’m writing it down while I have a quiet moment.

I often get emails asking me about older series and if I plan to continue them:

Witches Knot – I’m done with the series at this point. That’s not to say I won’t revisit in the future because I love the world and I’d really love to write about Kael and his Hunter Crew some more, but the main story arc is finished and my Charvez witches all found their HEA.

Cherchez Pack – This is probably the one I get the most questions on so let me be sort of blunt – I’d love to write more, but moving the series into another publisher is a hugely daunting task. There will be issues with some of the books being in print and me having to say over and over that I just don’t know if or when the first two will be out in print. Having to deal with that is more trouble than I’ve got time for right now so it’s not on my schedule, at least not this year. I do have a book for Skye but I don’t have the time to write it just now (and I still have all the stuff about moving the books elsewhere).

So I love the series, I love the wolves, but right now, the series is dormant.

Chase Brothers – Four brothers, four books. I’m done with the series (no inventing cousins or anything) but I’m not done with Petal. I do want to write HEAs for some of the Murphys. And yes, I do want to write Edward and Polly’s story, but it’s far more complicated than it may appear from the books, so it will take me some time. Time I don’t have just now, but it’s on my To Do List

Cascadia Wolves – I’m done with the main story arc from Enforcer to Standoff. But I am not done with that world by any means. Trinity is a spin off from that world and there are crossover plot issues. I’ll be back with more books after Trinity (if Samhain wants them that is) to tie up some loose ends I leave at the end of Trinity (though I promise the HEA is there!)

Federation Chronicles – Yes there will be more. Insatiable is Daniel’s book and it starts a three book story arc called Phantom Corps (as Daniel is all uber secret black ops guy). Mezmerized is the next one after that. There’ll be a final story as well.

Contemps – I don’t have a series title for my Seattle based contemporaries from Heat but yes, there will be two more books after Laid Bare. Coming Undone is Brody’s book and it’s out January 5 and Inside Out is Cope’s boo and I have no idea at this point as I just contracted it, but sometime in late 2010 or early 2011 most likely. I’d like to finish up with Adrian’s story.

I think these are the ones I get asked about the most often. Think of this as an open call for questions! Ask away and if possible, I’ll answer.

Retreat or not to retreat

I’m in Washington state, in a wonderful lake house, surrounded by my fellow writers in a retreat. I can’t even begin to describe how fun it is to wake up to the sound of book plotting.

It’s my first writer’s retreat even though I’ve been published for four years. I don’t think I knew quite what to expect before I came, but I am so glad I did. We talk about plotting, characters, book deals, editors, agents and all the stuff I can’t talk about with the rest of the people in my life.

These wonderful ladies are my peers, the people who know exactly the angst, troubles and disappointments I suffer as a writer. Then there’s our hostess who is gracious, funny as hell, and knows the writing business inside and out.

The amazing thing is being able to set aside all the daily things, the schedule, keeping track of all the little things in my life. I’ve focused on writing, discussing writing, and getting so much done. I killed myself finishing my first Emma Lang book before I came, then when I got here, it was like I went into the writing zone. I finished rewrites on Devils on Horseback: Lee and sent it off to my beta reader, and begun the galley proofs of The Stranger’s Secrets.

The best thing is, I’ve recently signed a one book deal with Berkley Heat (yay!) for a contemporary erotic romance to be released in July 2010.  Unfortunately the book is due October 16 (eep) so I have six weeks to write it. I’ve already gotten 6K written! I’m excited to be able to pound out the pages, read them aloud to my fellow peeps, and then write more.

Not only that, but the lake house is lovely. I mean, look at the view! I’ll be back in NC on Sunday and my batteries completely recharged. I miss DH terribly, but talk to him twice a day. Even better, when I return we can show each other just how much we missed each other. 😉

The view from the cabin
The view from the cabin

Fated – Free Doomsday Brethren e-Novella

Fated

They were meant to be together…but will magic tear them apart?

Find out in my my FREE Doomsday Brethren e-novella, Fated! Click here to reach the download link! Hope you all enjoy…

The next two books in the Doomsday Brethren series are coming soon. SEDUCE ME IN SHADOW on Sept. 29 and POSSESS ME AT MIDNIGHT on Oct. 27. Mark your calendars and get ready for reads that are “passionate” and “page-turning”, according to RT Bookclub. I’m counting the days until release!

Reissued…

I feel ‘official’. 😉 Two of my EC/Pocket novellas have been repackaged and reissued…aka shuffled around and put with a couple of different stories. The books came out recently, one on 8/11, the other in July.

The Hottie Next Store contains my novella, Good Girls Don’t.

Good Things Come in Threes contains my novella, Voyeur.

And if you wanna buy, I’m all for that.

Buy

Shiloh

http://shilohwalker.com

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On My Mind

I have a tendency to overthink things, and unfortunately I cannot seem to find the dimmer switch for it.  God forbid I wake up in the middle of the night and my mind decides to kick into gear. I will not sleep again that night.

Lately I haven’t been sleeping well, and yes, it’s because my mind is in high gear. This can be a good thing (if I’m plotting out a book or visualizing a scene) or a bad thing (if I’m stressing about everything else in my life). This latest round of not sleeping is a bad thing, mixed with a bit of good.

You see, I have a book due September 1 – my first book written as Emma Lang, my new pen name for Kensington Brava beginning June 2010. I want this book to wow readers so they’ll come hungry for more. There’s one stress, a big one. And well, you see, I am behind on actually writing the book and have three weeks to finish it (that’d be 250 pages, or about 60K).

Now you’re following along with me and my demon-like stresses, right? It gets even a bit worse, unfortunately. A friend of mine (who was younger than me by a few months) lost her battle with cancer last Saturday. Losing someone, even if it’s expected, throws you for a loop, then kicks you.

I’m distracted and having a hard time focusing. That’s the biggest bad of all.

Now for the good. When I’m writing, it’s flowing well. The characters are making me laugh and cry and get angry, just as they’re supposed to.  I need to write their story and it’s also on my mind pretty much constantly. I would pay serious money to find the damn dimmer switch on my mind. LOL.

So here’s my question to y’all, what’s your favorite method to focus? I need some ideas y’all so I can compartmentalize everything and get the book written.

Help!