It’s My Turn at the TRR Anniversary Party!

anniv2015The Romance Reviews is turning 4!

Join the month-long party and stand to win awesome prizes, like GC, ebooks, print books and exciting swag. Over 400 authors and publishers joined the event and contributed weekly and monthly prizes up for grabs. Grand prize is $100 GC!

My Turn!

Come and answer my question HERE for a chance to win an e-copy of STUCK ON REWIND or one of the fabulous prizes listed above. Good luck!


Can Ashton let go of his jealousy and be the friend and lover that Lance needs?
Ashton has been in love with his best friend for years, watching him grow from a pretty high school boy to the gorgeous erotic dancer at the club where they both work. The problem is that Lance enjoys the attention of a variety of men while Ashton wants him for his very own.
After a day spent denying his attraction for Lance, standing by while their friend Trey openly flirts with him, Ashton decides it’s time to make his move or risk losing his man forever. Once Lance knows how he feels, he’ll realize they should be together. Or is it already too late?

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It’s #snippetsunday!

snippetsunday2Hello! Welcome to Snippet Sunday! It’s the weekly event when authors post 8 to 10 lines of things they are writing, editing, querying, or for which they’re obsessively checking sales figures! You can find the other snippets HERE.

Here’s a little taste from my current WIP, a fantasy adventure novel I’ve been ruthlessly editing. Enjoy!

* * * *

“Say that again and I’ll surely slit your throat. Now, what is your name?”

“Captain Syros.”

Nathan sat back on his heels, fury still smoldering in him. “Speak.”

“I could tell you where they mean to bury him,” the soldier drawled, a slash of a grin crossing his face at Nathan’s sharply drawn breath. “He was alive the last time I saw him, but I heard they mean to bury him soon. If you hurry he may still be breathing. I don’t know.”

“And you didn’t help him?” With a sudden angry cry Nathan drove his knife into the sapling inches from Syros’s face. “He’d better be alive, for your sake.”

He left his water skin for Syros, should the man succeed in freeing himself, then gave the soldier no more thought as he snatched up his pack and settled into the long run ahead.

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Tuesday Tidbits

bw1Welcome! I write romance in a variety of sub-genres and find some of the most interesting things while researching. Here’s my tidbit for today…

The Barrow-Wight

Early British Isles folklore tell tales of barrow-wights as ghosts who haunt their tombs, keeping watch over the treasures that were buried with them. Jealously, they guard their items and will attack and kill anyone who attempts to rob the grave

In Viking tales, the barrow-wights are shadowy creatures who guard the burial mounds of the Viking heroes.

In Icelandic folklore, however, the barrow-wight is almost a zombie-vampire sort of creature which they called a ‘draugr.’ A draugr is a re-animated corpse who can leave his grave. Some have an insatiable hunger, believing that if they consume enough life, then they too can recover their own life energy. Savagely attacked livestock were often blamed on the draugr. Draugr could also take revenge on those who killed him or took his treasures by sitting on the chest of his sleeping victim, slowly suffocating him to death.


Down on the Farm vol 1_200x300CALLUM’S FATE -my story in the Down on the Farm anthology

Amazon   ARe Books
Will the help of the faery people be enough to save Callum from his fate or will he succumb to the mystical allure of the moors?

Callum ran until his lungs burned; every breath ragged, painful. Fear spurred him on, though fog began to cling to the rough mounds of the barrows, making such flight dangerous. Stones stabbed through his worn boots with each footfall, but he daren’t stop. There had been voices in the shadows…

Exhaustion slowed him, his chest heaving as he fought for air. Dusk began to lay its dark mantle on the landscape and he shivered as a finger of dread traveled his spine. Dangerous to be on the moors at night without shelter. He cursed the ill fortune that had sent him this way, but he was hungry and ill. He’d followed the will-o-the-wisp, thinking they were the lights of a farmhouse. His brothers would crudely have called them swamp gas and continued on the road, but Callum had always been the fool.

An owl hooted in the semi-darkness making his skin crawl. “Sweet lord,” he muttered, heart thumping. “Protect me—”

He stumbled on a loose stone and fell heavily against a dark mound of earth. Oh God! The ground caved in under him and he dropped into the barrow in a shower of dirt.

“Save me!” he sobbed as he scrambled to his knees. Sinewy arms reached up from the blackness and wrapped around him. Callum screamed, but no sound escaped his throat, choked with terror. He was yanked against a hard chest and hands ran over him, disembodied in the darkness.

“Soft. Sweet.” A voice sliced the silence, a cold breath against his face. He gagged on the waft of rot and decay. The tip of a dry tongue scraped over his jaw and he shuddered against the body under him. “Nice strong bones to gnaw,” the voice continued. “Sweet marrow to suck and swallow. Shall I eat you, my lovely one?”

Callum whimpered as the low tones wound through his head. The mists parted and moonlight filled the barrow, showing him the creature. He gasped at the cold beauty of its face. Eyes dark as pitch burned into him, brushed against his soul. Lush lips, dripping honey, overripe, took his mouth in a kiss that sent his pulse into a riot of hunger and desire.

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Multi-Author Romance Dual Blog Book Giveaway for Valentine’s Day!


Authors hailing from multiple genres have converged in one giveaway to offer their romance related books. We are hosting this special holiday giveaway at Writing in the Modern Age and at I Love Romance Blog.

We are so excited to offer you two places to compete for prizes! With 41 authors and more than 150 donations in this awesome giveaway, you’ll have so many chances to win! And just think of how cool it would be to win not only one free book, but others as well! Follow the links to add your name for these amazing drawings!

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Time for Lightning Quick Reads!

marcel20Hey! It’s my turn again with the Lightning Quick Reads.  LQR is a multi-author, themed, short story blog. What it means is, as a reader, you can expect each participating author to post one short story per month, which is somehow related to the theme of the month. The theme for January is Love. Here’s mine!


“There you are.”

Luca settled cross-legged on the hearth, murmuring a word of gratitude when heat from the fire surrounded him. Keeping a surreptitious eye on the woodpile, he crumbled his crust of bread and honey onto the stones. The animals had grown skittish and he missed their company on his long tramps through the forest and in the cabin grown lonely without Rhys’s vibrant presence.

Winter gathered outside the latched door and Luka glanced ceiling-ward when the wind howled through the tree limbs sending their limbs scratching along the roof. Something darker than the storm was coming…   Continue HERE!

Artwork by Marcel Stevahn- One Good Eye Photography

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New Book! Talking with the Earth by Jamieson Wolf

talking-witht-the-earth-cover-1Through his lovely poetry, Jamieson Wolf takes us on his emotional, sometimes difficult, deeply romantic journey to answer the question, “Will I find Love?” With Jamieson, we meet the stranger on the street, the soothsayer, true friends, while the author learns to let go of a painful past and move on. We are who we choose to be. Life is full of wonder and magic, where we discover our dreams can be possible. We are our passions. In these beautiful poems, we step forward with Jamieson, with courage, into the arms of love, hopeful, realizing our life is up to us.

Love Yourself First
Jamieson Wolf

When I began the poems that make up Talking with the Earth, I wasn’t planning on writing a collection full of love poems. I had not been planning on falling in love. I was working on loving myself.

This was incredibly hard for me to do. In 2013, I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. It took away my ability to write, to speak, to walk. I had to re-learn to do all of these things. However, I still didn’t like myself very much.

From October 2013 to January 2014, I was merely working on keeping my head above water. I liked parts of myself, sure, but not all of myself. So the beginning of the collection examined how to go about loving myself, something I had never been able to do.

jwOn February 13th, I was given a push towards self-love. I was supposed to be going on a date with a guy on Valentine’s Day. He cancelled the date over a text message telling me that there was something wrong with me if I could be so happy living a halfway kind of life, that I didn’t see how damaged I really was and he couldn’t deal with someone like that.
At the time, I was crushed. I was tempted to go back down into a spiral of self-hate and loathing, but had another idea instead: No date for Valentine’s? No problem. I would take myself out for Valentine’s Day dinner, I would buy myself my own Valentine’s Day present.
I got myself a fancy watch, ate a gorgeous dinner. I picked up two romantic movies and lots of chocolate. Oddly enough, by the time I got home and started watching the movies and eating the chocolates, I wasn’t depressed. I was stunned that I had loved myself so much, something I had never been able to do.

Every relationship I’d been in had been focused on the other guy. I was just an entity in the relationship and if they were happy, I was happy. It didn’t concern me that I was ignoring myself so completely.

It all changed for me last Valentine’s Day. I realized that I did love myself and all my imperfections. I loved myself and was able to let go of years of doubt and dislike. I knew that the man I would give my heart to next would love me for me and not try to change anything about me.

When I met my partner Michael, it was online. I decided to be up front right away about what I had to deal with on a daily basis. I told him up front about having Cerebral Palsy and Multiple Sclerosis. I was quite blunt about it, actually. Then I pressed send and expected never to hear from him again.

When he wrote back, he thanked me for being up front and said that my honesty told him a lot about the type of person I was; that the world can be very judgemental about any perceived weakness of difference, but thankfully not everyone was like that and it was really a sign of my strength.

I was floored. Everyone I had been on dates with had reacted badly and treated me terribly. I knew that, whatever happened, I had to meet Michael. We made plans to meet at a coffee shop. It was April 4th, 2014. I almost didn’t go. I hemmed and hawed about it up until the very day. Finally I decided to go.

I remember walking into that coffee shop and standing in line for a coffee. Then I heard my name. I turned and Michael was there, Even though we were indoors, I swear there was a bit of sun, giving him a halo.

It was an instant connection. We talked for two hours and it was the longest coffee date I had ever been on. I surprised myself by saying: “Did you want to go for dinner somewhere?”

I couldn’t believe that the words came out of my mouth; however I’m so glad that they did. Michael changed my world and my writing changed with it.

The tone of the poems within Talking with the Earth began to change in tone from being a little angry to being more hopeful. They changed from being full of self-doubt and self-loathing to being about love and affection and support.

People kept remarking on how happy I was. I had considered myself a happy, content person before. Now, apparently, I just shone and so did my writing. Michael has changed my life and shown me what love really is.

To think that I owe a debt of thanks to that guy who cancelled our date last Valentine’s Day over a text message. Had he not done that I would never have made the choice to love myself and I would never had met Michael.

I would never have found the other half of my heart.

You can buy Talking with the Earth in paperback and ebook here!

Excerpt from Talking with the Earth

A Path of Sunlight

The path that
I used to
walk on was
one filled with
darkness and shadows.
It had gotten
to a point
where I could
recognize them
and knew some
of them so
well that they
had almost become
friends. I could
recognize their shapes,
their movements. The
path was rocky
and filled with
pieces of glass
that cut my
feet. Still, I
walked along the
path, as it
was mine to
walk, alone. The
skies were filled
with clouds and
still more shadows,
rain a constant
threat. I could
see the sun
peeking through from
time to time,
but it would
never last for
very long. Then
I came to
a turn in
the path, a
different direction from
where I had
been going, and
you were standing
there, waiting for
me, your hand
outstretched waiting to
clasp mine. When
I put my
hand in yours,
the clouds cleared,
grass began to
sprout through the
rough soil and
the sunshine shone
so brightly. I
looked around me
and the whole
world looked different.
When I looked
inside me, I
didn’t recognize myself.
You have not
only transformed my
world into something
beautiful, you have
transformed me as
well with your
love for me.
The path ahead
of me is filled
with sunlight as
long as I
walk beside you
and we walk
together towards the

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New Excerpt from The Shed

The Shed7Alex started awake and blinked in the moonlight flooding the porch. He unwound from the ball he’d curled into, chilled, muscles aching. He rose and stretched, then wrinkled his nose at a strange smell hanging in the air. Oh God.

He walked to the edge of the porch. Moonlight touched the tips of the pine trees ringing the garden. He drew a breath of the crisp air with its hint of fall, rotten leaves and dank earth and moldering bones.

He pressed the palms of his hands hard against his eyes. “I won’t go in there,” he assured his pounding heart, but the stench teased his senses, drawing him. Unable to resist, he left the porch and trotted down the garden path toward the woods.

Stopping at the edge of the forest, he swallowed a whimper, not wanting to go into the darkness under the trees. The safer plan would be to simply turn around and climb back into bed, waking in the morning safe in Jane’s arms. Mornings were his favorite part of the day. Everything was fresh and new and unblemished. He and Jane usually had their coffee and breakfast on the patio, then spent an hour or so in the studio together before driving up to Fort Collins to see Art Peters.

A bird cried in the branches overhead, startling him. He glanced up, but a flash of dark wings was all he saw of the creature as it swooped under the tree limbs. He ducked into the trees and followed its swift path, careful on the slippery leaves, twigs, and unexpected holes under his feet.

He came to an abrupt halt and shuddered at the rotten air wafting up from an even deeper darkness under the limbs of an ancient oak. Dear God. What could it be? He brought his head up with a jerk at the creak of a board. An old shed stood close by, abandoned, the wood black with age, half hidden in brambles and small trees. Alex’s heart froze, his breath stopped. Terror crept over his mind and he tore his gaze away from the evil structure, snapping the terrible connection.

Heart thundering in his ears, he walked toward the blackness under the oak, dread a cold finger creeping up his spine. An open grave, freshly dug, lay at the tree’s feet. Oh shit. Fear twisted in his stomach as he knelt on the loose edge, shivering as dampness from the soil seeped into his jeans. He gripped the sides of the pit to keep from falling in as he leaned over for a closer look, the dirt cold and moist in his hands. Something was in there.

He closed his eyes, not wanting to be there. He wanted to be back in bed, wrapped in Jane’s safe embrace, not here where he had to look into a grave of ghosts.

“God help me,” he murmured and opened his eyes. Fear strangled his throat. He couldn’t cry out. Could hardly breathe. A child’s face floated in darkness, deathly pale, its eyes huge wells of sorrow. Hair black as raven wings fluttered against white cheeks. Bloodless lips opened and the whisper of a voice floated up to him: “Run.”


Solstice Publishing


As a Certified Mental Health Therapist, Scott Reid has his share of interesting experiences, though nothing compares with the time he spends with the psychic, Alex Elson. Plagued by terrifying images and dreams, Alex turns to Doctor Reid in the hopes of learning to control his visions. Instead, Scott is pulled into Alex’s world, where dreams and reality mix and nightmares are real.

Two young men, brothers, have been abducted from the lake outside of Oakton without a trace of who took them. That is, until Alex receives a silver pocket watch in the mail belonging to the elder brother, a taunt from the kidnapper for Alex to come find them. Alex’s visions turn at once into nightmares. Images flash in his mind of an abandoned well and a terrified, lonely boy slowly dying at the bottom. The shed looms close by, holding a horrifying secret, a dark place Alex’s frightened mind refuses to go.

With the help of Scott Reid, Alex endeavors to control his visions and find the brutalized victims before death claims them. But the watch is ticking away and time’s running out.

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Time For Lightning Quick Reads!

marcel6Hey! It’s my turn with the Lightning Quick Reads.  LQR is a multi-author, themed, short story blog. What it means is, as a reader, you can expect each participating author to post one short story per month, which is somehow related to the theme of the month. The theme for January is GOALS. Here’s mine!


“You’re not coming?”

The deep voice he’d spent the last two years  curling up with mumbled something, then the connection was lost. Kevin closed his phone and stared at the brightly lit ornaments on the tree. They blurred and he knuckled the sudden tears. The tree was yet another testament of him as a failure. He should have had it down weeks ago, but couldn’t find the interest. He drew a shuddery breath. Well, that was that. He shouldn’t be surprised by Jack’s decision. This last fight before Jack’s business trip had been a doozy.

Wind buffeted the cabin and Kevin knew without looking that snow had begun to pile up on the porch. He’d planned to sweep it off, but what was the point? Jack wasn’t coming home. A silver ornament caught his eye, reflecting all the lights of the tree. Suddenly he was ten years old and Dad kissed his forehead…     Continue HERE!

pic by Marcel Stevahn- One Good Eye Photography

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Project Fierce Charity Anthology

projectfierceNobody deserves to be without a home. In collaboration with several authors, Less Than Three Press offers up an anthology of stories about young people who find that home and family are not always where you expect to find them.

All proceeds from this charity anthology will be donated to Project Fierce Chicago. Project Fierce’s mission is to reduce LGBTQ youth homelessness in Chicago by providing transitional housing and support services to homeless LGBTQ young adults.

SAMMY -my story in the Project Fierce Charity Anthology

Less Than Three Press   ARe Books   Amazon
At fifteen, Sam inadvertently comes out to his parents, but instead of the support he hopes for, they send him to live with his uncle. Unfortunately, the man is even less tolerant of his uniqueness. Rather than change to please his family, feeling unwanted and misunderstood, he runs away to find a better life.

But the crowded city isn’t kind to a young man with no home and no prospects of work. When this story opens, Sam has been on the streets for several years when one of his ‘regulars’ begins to take more than a business interest in him. For the first time Sammy dreams of more than a bleak lonely future, but does he dare hope that someone like him could find their happily ever after?


“Sammy, your Suit’s here again.”

Sam frowned at the chip in a fingernail. He could nibble off the rough edge, but that would smear his lip gloss, Pink Persuasion, his favorite. He glanced up through his thick lashes. Sure enough, John leaned against a lamppost pretending he hadn’t been staring. This could be fun.

Climbing from his perch on the picnic bench, he winked at Tad and the others and shook out the white skirt of his sundress. The sun was lowering behind them and John could probably see right through the filmy material, maybe catch a tantalizing glimpse of his turquoise bikini underwear. He stretched leisurely, arching his back, the sheer tank top exposing his nipples more than it covered them. He darted a look at the man again. Oh yes, definitely staring. John pushed off from the pole and took a step toward him, and his heart gave a funny lurch. He was certainly attractive, wavy brown hair falling to his chin, large brown eyes.

“Got a minute, Sammy?”

A smile lifted the corners of Sam’s full mouth. John was gentler than some of the others he could name. “Yeah, honey, I got time.” He raised his brows, looking towards the nearby public restrooms, but John shook his head, gaze flicking to the Morrison Bridge over head, the steady stream of cars crossing the river adding to the traffic noise on Naito Parkway behind them. Excellent. Sam knew justmthe spot.

Lacing fingers with John, Sam gave a playful tug and saw a slight blush rise in his face as they strolled along the bike path under the bridge. Cute. The Rhododendron grew thicker there and Sam pushed between two of them.

Hidden from view, he planted his back to the cement retaining wall, pulling John up against him. Brown eyes bore into his, the gleam of excitement unmistakable. But business first. Confusion touched the man’s face when Sam didn’t move, then his eyes widened.

“Oh shit! Sorry.” John dug in his pocket and handed over a few folded bills. Sam sighed. Only a head job. He’d been hoping for enough to get a room that night he didn’t have to share. John had been using him for the last couple of months and he’d even been to John’s apartment a few times. After letting Tad know where he was going, of course. But it looked like this time John just wanted to get off. Must be in a hurry. Crap.

Slipping the money into a pocket of his skirt, he made a show of rimming his lips with his tongue and hid his smirk when John’s eyes darkened with hunger. Men were so easy. Bat his mascaraed lashes, flash a flirty smile, and they were putty. Sam leaned forward and nibbled John’s lean jaw. “Ready, baby?”

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