If the image of a starving child doesn’t warm up the cockles of your cold, dead heart, Ann Aguirre will give you $200 worth of books. Seriously. That woman does not fuck around. All you have to do is donate and send her the proof. Seriously. Go. Go now. Get yourself some good karma. Help make sure a child in Myanmar has something to eat and a warm blanket to sleep in tonight. Kthxbai.

Presenting Forsaken by Jamie Craig…

Five years since Detective Xavier Landis walked away from the man who loved him.

One dead girl.

And now…

Chapter One

“He’s lying.”

The wind blistered Detective Jeff Keyes’ cheeks, but his sunglasses kept his eyes from watering. The jogger who had found the body wasn’t the only liar. With a cobalt sky stretching from horizon to horizon without a single break of cloud, the day promised warm tranquility. What it gave was a bitter February gale that bent branches and chapped lips. This was why he preferred working at night. Darkness lied by hiding everything, but at least it was honest about it.

His partner frowned and glanced back at the rawboned man pacing along the edge of the running path. “What makes you say that?”

“Did you see his shirt?”

“What about it?”

“There’s a fresh coffee stain on the hem. Still wet. If he really found the body when he was done with his run, when did he find time to run the six blocks to the nearest Starbucks?”

Her frustrated grunt almost made Jeff smile. He might have complained about getting assigned such a green partner six months earlier, but Andrea Villegas was smart enough to recognize she could learn something from him. She never questioned his authority, always accepted his corrections with grace. That put her heads above most of the rest of the cops he’d ever worked with. Few people realized just how good he was at his job until they looked like idiots.

Jeff had met a lot of idiots in his lifetime. Sometimes he thought he had a magnet for attracting them attached to his ass. His prick, too. God only knew, he had a natural talent for finding stupid men to fuck. Advanced degrees apparently meant shit in understanding basic human courtesies.

Andrea sighed. “I hate it when assholes waste our time. Now I have to question him all over again.”

“Not yet.” Jeff jerked his head toward the techs crouching next to the covered body on the opposite side of the path. “Let’s go see if anything interesting has shown up and let our guy stew for a little bit. It’ll be easier to rattle his cage then.”

Her grin gleamed in the brilliant sunshine. “Sometimes, I love the way you think, Keyes.”

Together, they walked the twenty yards to the reason they’d been summoned to Golden Gate Park in the first place. Their shift had been nearly over. All they’d had to do was go back to the station and start the paperwork on the case that had pulled them out in the first place – a domestic disturbance ending in a homicide. Jeff had taken the lead in that one, aware of Andrea’s discomfort in such scenarios, so when the call came through on a dead body only a few blocks away, she’d insisted on taking charge. One glance at the jogger who’d found the young woman on his morning run, and Jeff decided it would be good practice for his partner. One witness, one body, one bullet. She needed to cut her teeth some time.

“How’s it going?” she said to the grizzled tech as they approached.

“Not bad.” He gestured toward the body between them. “The coroner’s going to have to confirm, but I think it’s a safe bet to say the bullet did the job.” With a gloved hand, he brushed away the long dark hair hiding her face to expose the gaping hole where the ear had been. “Smudging on the surrounding area suggests direct contact, but she was shot standing up. Nordby found brain matter splattered across the grass several feet away. No sign of the bullet yet, though.”

Andrea nodded, scribbling the notes down on her pad. Jeff glanced over, out of habit more than anything else, and checked to make sure she had everything. Her usually careful script barely resembled a child’s scrawl.

She still wasn’t inured to fresh DBs. Especially two in one night. Poor kid. She had to toughen up soon, or she was never going to make it as long as Jeff had.

“Did you find anything on the body?” he asked, taking the initiative. No reason not to keep the investigation on track. “Do we know who the vic is yet?”

The tech waved at the sheet stretched out on the grass behind him. A purse, some loose change, and other assorted items waited for inspection.

“I haven’t had a chance to go through any of it yet, though. Put some gloves on and have at it.”

With Andrea still writing, and her jogger witness looking at his watch every couple seconds, Jeff knew he had a choice to make. “Why don’t you go give Mr. Pants-on-Fire another shot at coming clean?” he suggested. “I’ll see what I can dig up in the purse, and we can get out of here before McDonald’s stops serving breakfast.”

“You sure? I don’t mind finishing all this up so you can go back and do the Becker paperwork.”

“And leave my partner behind? Nah. Not my style.”

They parted with small smiles, though Jeff’s vanished as soon as he turned his back. The relentless wind kept picking up the edges of the sheet, flapping it over the large leather purse. If they found any physical evidence on the scene, it would be a miracle.

He didn’t bother with anything but the bag, carrying it to one of the picnic tables to work it over. It held the usual detritus – a wallet, tampons, Kleenex, more pens than any one person should own. The red plastic wallet was frayed at the edges, a fake designer label emblazoned over the snap, but the driver’s license it held said he was looking at what was left of Robin Potter’s life. Robin Potter. Nineteen. Not even old enough to drink.

A muffled beep came from the bottom of the purse, and Jeff dug around inside until he pulled out a cell phone. The battery was dying on it. More importantly, a “Missed Call” message flashed across the screen.

Grabbing one of the pens, Jeff scribbled down the number of the unidentified caller on a Kleenex. It was probably just a relative, but every lead counted. He was about to call it in when he noticed the message icon blinking at the top of the screen.

Ten seconds later, an electronic voice said in his ear, “You have one new message. To play new messages, press one.”

The wind sliced behind his sunglasses as Jeff pressed the button. On the path, the jogger was running in place in an attempt to stay warm.

“Still listening, Detective Landis?” The distorted voice stabbed straight through Jeff, more effective than any frozen air. “Of course, you are. That’s what you do, isn’t it? Well, listen to this. Back off. Now. Or the next person to get a bullet through the head will be you.”

The voicemail system came back on, prompting him to delete, repeat, or save the message. Jeff heard none of it. The threat echoed continuously in his head.

Detective Landis.

As far as he knew, there was only one Landis on the San Francisco police force.

That’s what you do, isn’t it?

He snapped the cell phone shut, his fingers tightening around it. Xavier Landis specialized in white-collar crimes. He was an expert in surveillance. There was no way the killer wasn’t referring to him.

The next person to get a bullet through the head will be you.

Not if Jeff had anything to say about it.

Scooping everything back into the purse, Jeff fiddled with the clasp as he marched back to Andrea. The jogger’s strident voice grew louder with each step, but as soon as he noticed Jeff, he clammed up.

Jeff had that effect on people. At six-two with nearly two hundred pounds of packed muscle on his frame, he didn’t have to do much more than look people in the eye to get them to cooperate.

The jogger didn’t even get that.

“I’m taking lead on this.” Jeff didn’t wait for Andrea to argue. “Finish up here and meet me back at the station. There’s some things I need to check up on.”

She grabbed his arm to keep him from walking away. “What did you find in her purse?”

Ignoring her query, he carefully pried off her fingers. “Call me if I’m not at my desk. We need to talk.”

“Keyes!”

Her annoyed voice drifted after him as he strode down the path for the parking lot. His thoughts were already elsewhere; no amount of calling was going to distract him now.

Piercing blue eyes stared at him through the screen. He fully expected the fine mesh to dissolve under its intensity. “Don’t do this, Jeff. Not here.”

“My mistake.” He adjusted the weight of the backpack he had slung over his shoulder, and retreated another step. Then another. The walk to the curb wasn’t long enough for there to be a third before he reached his car. “Now I’m fixing it.”

Fixing it. Jeff ground his teeth together as he swung his car out of the lot and onto Fulton Street. Five years later, and the declaration still hurt.

Well, it was his turn to fix things now.

The next person to get a bullet through the head will be you.

Fuck Xavier if he didn’t like it.

Robin Potter had never had a boyfriend. She had shyly admitted to going on a blind date a week after she graduated from high school. Her best friend had set her up with her older brother’s coworker. They were supposed to be a perfect match, but Robin had confessed to Xavier she didn’t think any boy would be perfect for her. Every time Xavier had been called in on a stalking case, it was the boyfriend, or the ex-husband, or the jilted lover, or the guy who did not take no for an answer. Robin had insisted she didn’t have any of those things. She didn’t know who could be following her. She didn’t have a clue.

And now she never would.

Had she seen the man? Had she known him? Did the light of recognition flash in her eyes before they were dimmed forever?

Xavier knew he had failed this young woman who didn’t have anybody else to look out for her. He supposed when he saw the coroner’s report, he would know just how deep his failure went. He hoped the lead detective would find something, some clue when he turned over all the information Xavier had gathered over the past several weeks. And he hoped the information led to no concrete clues. That was a selfish wish. The height of selfishness. But if there was something there, and he didn’t see it, and he never stopped the murderer, and he let that sweet girl die, how could he live with himself?

The disc drive on his laptop popped open. It took most of the morning, but he had burned all of the photos, phone conversations, e-mails, and videos pertaining to Robin’s case to a CD. He had other cases to work on. Other assignments. Crimes that were actually in his jurisdiction, not just something he did in his spare time because nobody else would. With no hard evidence, no likely suspect, and no probable motive, nobody in the department had the time or inclination to take Robin Potter’s claims of harassment seriously.

But their paths had crossed, and if Xavier couldn’t believe her claims, he believed the fear in her eyes.

Xavier carefully pressed the CD into a jewel case, and wrote Robin’s name in black marker across the front. After he delivered this and attended the funeral, his obligation to Robin would be…what? Fulfilled? Not that. Maybe just ended. What else could he do? He wasn’t in homicide.

Movement at the doorway caught his eye. He only meant to glance up, but as soon as he lifted his head, he froze. A familiar figure stood inside the entrance, his heavy-lidded gaze sweeping over the room. As soon as it lit on Xavier, it stopped, and the wide, sensual mouth firmed into a straight line.

His heart thudded as Jeff Keyes strode through the desks, heading straight for him. He’d cut his hair, Xavier thought irrationally. Between the military cut and the stubble shading his jaw, he looked even more dangerous than usual.

Xavier didn’t even notice the notice the evidence bag dangling from Jeff’s hand until he stood next to the desk. Though he tossed it onto the blotter, Jeff never looked away from him. Xavier felt pinned by his gaze.

“You’ve got a problem. Say hello to your new bodyguard.”

Stay tune next week for Chapter Two…

Jamie Craig is the penname used for the collaborative efforts of Pepper Espinoza and Vivien Dean. Both successful authors on their own, they began working together in early 2006. Pepper lives with her husband and cats in Utah, where she attends graduate school, and Vivien resides in northern California with her husband and two children.

This an original story given generously to us by Jamie Craig. DO NOT post any part of this story on your site without attribution to Jamie Craig or a holla-back at her site. That’s not cool. Always give credit where credit is due, yo.

Till, then… Love, peace, and snarkage, my babies. Peace!

Phase 2 by Peter Abraham features a family anxiously anticipating the arrival of the father from the war. Phase 2 refers to the BIG PLAN of the family to move to the suburbs and live dull, but nevertheless safe lives as soon as the father returns from a dangerous mission. All of that changes when Dad’s plane is shot down and he dies, leaving Lara to deal with her all-too-serious brother, hysterically grieving mother, and the fact that she’s never going to see her father ever again. What’s most worrisome for Lara, however, is the way her mother seems to be dealing with her father’s death: she becomes obsessed with contacting her dead husband through a psychic. When Lara and her little brother discover that the psychic is a fake, Lara has to figure out how to tell her emotionally fragile mother about it when it seems to be the only thing that’s holding her mother together. It is definitely a loss-of-innocence story, but there’s a bit of magic in it too. I enjoyed the relationship between Lara and her little brother and even though it’s a short story, I really got a sense of who these people are and how they work together as a family unit. The little twist at the end gave me goosebumps, too!

Not Just for Breakfast Anymore by Libba Bray is definitely my favorite story of the bunch. It starts out easily enough— Maggie and her friends are hanging out in the parking lot of a shopping center in city, looking for someone they can trick into buying them alcohol so they can have more fun at the Cheap Trick concert they’re going to attend (it’s the 80’s, kids. I Want You to Want Me…). This scene rang especially true for me because I remember listening to Cheap Trick on a tape I made by holding up my recorder to the radio, while sipping a noxious concoction (a thermos filled with a little bit of every single bottle of liquor in my father’s cabinet— a little bit here, a little bit there, he won’t notice) with my friends. As the story progresses, it is revealed that Maggie’s parents had recently divorced and Maggie’s mother is having a tough time dealing with it. Her brother, with whom she was especially close, doesn’t visit or even call much anymore and her father seems to have moved on with his life, having a gay old time. When the plan to meet Cheap Trick at their hotel goes bust (it turned out they were staying at another hotel), Maggie is stuck with her friends in a strange town with no way of getting home because everybody is too messed up to drive. But the town ain’t so strange after all because Maggie’s father lives there, only she’s reluctant to call him because she doesn’t want her friends to find out her family’s deep, dark secret. It’s the little things that did it for me here: Maggie’s habit of making up commercials for products that don’t exist but should, her fear that her friends will turn away from her when they find out the truth about her parents’ divorce, and most especially, her friend using her budding sexuality to trick a horny store clerk into selling them alcohol. This story is really about perception: how things can irreversibly change the moment you start looking at it from a different perspective. It’s also being forced to deal with things you don’t necessarily understand and discovering that your parents don’t have it all figured out, either. And sometimes the only thing you can do to shake it off is to cannonball-dive into a swimming pool and stay underneath the water until you can’t breathe anymore. As soon as you resurface, you just might realize that things aren’t as bad as you thought they would be…

Is there ever a moment in your day when you stop and start asking yourself what it is you’re doing or why things are the way they are? This is what David Levithan’s The Vulnerable Hours is all about. We are introduced to a girl named Sarah, a girl who usually enjoys going to parties with her twitty friends. In the middle of the party, Sarah realizes she doesn’t quite belong there and ends up locking herself in the bathroom and is found by Lindsay, the hostess of the party. When Lindsay asks Sarah what is wrong, Sarah ends up unburdening herself to this girl and the two of them end up spending the party in the bathroom, just talking. On the other side of town, a boy named Phil is hanging out at a park with his friends when all of a sudden, he is overcome with a mind-blowing existential question: how come when you ask somebody what’s up, the response is almost always “Not much.” Phil decides to go around the park, asking everyone “what’s up” and sure enough, receives the usual “not much” until people start really thinking about it and reveal their own vulnerabilities. Suddenly, “what’s up” becomes a very loaded question. Meanwhile, Sarah eventually wanders away from the party and Phil, realizing that the park is nearly empty, begins wandering too. The two of them, both a little lost and seeking answers in their own way, meet in the middle and make a connection. This story is poignant, stark, and definitely thought-provoking. Sarah and Phil really illustrate what it’s like to be a teenager, struck with debilitating questions like, “What am I supposed to do now?” and “Where do I belong?” Frickin’ fantastic.

Orange Alert by Patricia McCormick is about a fifteen year old girl who sees a driver’s license as a path to independence and strength. Our heroine is desperate to learn how to drive a car, even though her skeezy step-dad (who is a little bit too touchy) thinks she’s too young and her mother is all too willing to let her step-dad make all the decisions for the family. Desperate to get away and convinced that a driver’s license would help her do just that, our heroine begins sneaking out in the middle of the night so she can teach herself how to drive. This one really creeped me out because I was afraid for the girl whose step-dad is leering bohunk pervert and her mother seems oblivious— no, deliberately obtuse to what’s going on, perhaps in fear she will never find another man who’ll “love” her and take care of her. This is in direct contrast to our heroine who believes she can escape and stand on her own two feet, if only she could learn how to drive. The ending is definitely very satisfying and had me rooting for our girl. Down with skeezy men who think they can take advantage of you just because you’re smaller and supposedly weaker! A kickass story all around.

Superman is Dead by Sarah Weeks features Brian, an aspiring writer forced to take care of his little brother by himself because his mother has to work and his father is gone, living his new life with a new wife and new baby. The Superman in this story is a little mouse that belongs to Brian’s little brother and the story begins with Brian reading out loud his English homework to a friend on the phone when his little brother Joe barges in crying because there is something wrong with Superman. Brian is definitely dealing with things beyond his maturity level: having to care for a little brother, parental neglect, a dying pet— when all he wants to do is finish the short story he’s writing for class. The story Brian is writing, which is seamlessly woven into our main storyline, reveals a lot about Brian’s state of mind: the adulterous husband kills his wife as directed by his mistress who is pregnant with his baby. Brian is a prime example of a teenager who grows up too soon because his parents are too busy fighting to take care of him and his brother; the theme is really the loss of innocence, as evidenced in the story that Brian is writing: he changes the ending to reflect what is happening in his own life. Good stuff. I’m inspired to buy more books by this author.

The Motherless One by Gene Luen Yang might be a little too deep for my dumb ass, because frankly, I had no idea what the hell it’s all about. It’s a comic about a monkey looking for his mom and this elder monkey tells him he doesn’t have a mother because he was actually hatched out of a rock. The rock is on top of a mountain guarded by a man-eating tiger. I think. *head-scratch* According to the intro:

In Gene Luen Yang’s The Motherless One, the age-old question, “Why was I born?” becomes the Monkey’s quest and obsession, ironically causing the legendary character to ignore the signposts nature offers all around him and come dangerously close to losing the very life he is seeking to understand.

I’m pretty sure it’s a metaphor for missing out on the important things in life if you spend all of it wondering about your existence and why you’re alive… which, now that I think about it, is pretty goddamn funny especially since five of the stories in this book is really about finding the answers to those questions. Heh. On second thought, maybe I do like the last story after all.

All and all, this is a really satisfying collection of short stories, a great read for the young and old alike. Each tale is short, sweet, and packs its own powerful punch. Highly recommended. Go get it. I’m giving it a B+ because I’m taking off points for the last story making me feel stupid. It’s not the author’s fault I’m a dummy, but GRRRR! *shaking fist* I’m thinking of the kids, damn it; I’m sure they won’t get it either. *snicker* Buy it for your kids, buy it for yourself.

Fond Farewell and Free Stuff
Well, today’s the day. My novella (almost novella, word count wise?) Tarnished Angel finishes it’s run today at Bam’s place. It’s been a fun eight weeks and everyone’s said such nice things. Even better, those who thought not-nice things kept their mouth shut.

So I thought of a way to say thank you. I’m resurrecting Bam’s writing contest. It seems fitting, considering the contest was the genesis of Tarnished Angel.

The prompt: I wanna see a girl tell a guy what she wants. Sexy, zany, crazy, whatever. I wanna see her pipe up and ask for her heart’s desire.

The word count: 400.

The prize: $50 gift certificate from Amazon.

The deadline: 15 May.

What’re you waiting for? Get writing. Post ‘em here for me (and maybe a minion) to select the finalists.

Thanks again for sharing Tarnished Angel with us, Lorelie!

If you haven’t already, please read chapters one two, three, four, five, six, and seven.

Two years ago, Corrine McQuade was desperate to escape her father’s house. In a perfect world, she would have run to Adam Springton, handsome owner of the Gilded Angel saloon and the man she’d daydreamed about for years. Believing he saw her as only his sister’s best friend, Corrine struck out on her own, finding employment and creating the best life she could. Suddenly Adam is paying attention to her – the kind of attention that makes her skin tingle and heat and she’s tempted by a new chance at love.

But who ever heard of a happy ending for a whore?

Presenting the final chapter of Lorelie Brown’s Tarnished Angel…

Chapter Eight

Later that evening, Corrine slipped into Madame Adrianna’s office. “Do you have a moment?”

The elegantly dressed woman set down her fountain pen and folded her hands on the green desk blotter. “Of course.”

Corrine sat into the chair across from the desk and folded her hands as well. It was unlikely Madame had made the gesture in an attempt to keep her hands from trembling. “I’m afraid I cannot continue to work for you.”

“I’d anticipated this.” As she drew an account ledger closer, Madame smiled. “You’ve paid off the initial investment I made in your wardrobe long ago. Since your vices are not expensive, your account should make a handsome dowry.”

“Dowry?” Corrine repeated dumbly. “I’ve no need for a dowry.” Though she realized now she’d been particularly stupid about her wages. Money had never seemed vitally important in her decision. A way to escape her father’s house and a roof over her head had been enough. It couldn’t be too crass to ask about money when she’d already earned it flat on her back.

If it was a sizeable amount perhaps she could begin a small dress shop of her own. Then she wouldn’t need references. Just how much did Madame consider a handsome sum? She didn’t require much. A tiny storefront with a workshop in the back, some stock in cloth and other materials. A building with living quarters above would be ideal. She could do the sewing herself to begin with and if she was successful eventually hire assistants. It was only right if she were a bit more lax than other employers with regards to references and history.

“Why are you leaving me then?” A fine line appeared between Madame’s lowered brows.

“I’ve decided to leave town.”

“Child, I oughtta slap you in your mind.” The thick Southern accent Madame worked so hard to weed out of her speech cropped up.

“Pardon?”

“You mean to tell me you ain’t hitchin’ yourself up with Adam Springton?”

Corrine blinked and shook the cobwebs out of her head. “Why would you think such a thing?”

“Because he finally came for you, girl. And don’t think I didn’t notice the day you came in well tumbled.”

Her slippers swam into view as Corrine looked down at the floor. No one had been in the front hall. It had been easy to believe she’d slid in unnoticed. “While Adam and I may have had. . . an encounter or two, I don’t see why you should leap to such far-fetched conclusions.”

“A body with half a brain can see that boy’s been in love with you for years.”

“Adam Springton is no boy.” It was easier to latch on to than the woman’s other, unsupportable statement.

Madame wouldn’t let her skirt the issue. “Boy, man, monkey, he loves you. Goodness girl, he was one of the prime reasons I was so hesitant to take you on. Didn’t you notice I invested very little in you at first? I felt sure as soon as Adam returned from Atlanta he’d snatch you back.”

An affronted sniff slipped out of Corrine. “I begin to wonder why you even took me on in that case.”

“I’da been ashamed to call myself a business woman otherwise. I had a chance to entice the higher class men of this town and I took it. I’ll keep it, too, once you’re gone. Mr. Heath’s taken quite a shine to Gertie when you weren’t available.”

“I’d thank you kindly to figure up my sums and prepare the funds. I’ll need them in a matter of days.”

“Haven’t you gotten high and mighty? You’ll be speaking to Adam before you think of going anywhere?”

“I’ll do no such thing. There is no future between us.”

“I didn’t figure you a fool. If I had any chance of an upstanding man being interested in me, I’d grab on with both hands.” Madame expelled a gusty sigh. “Get out of here. I’ll have your money ready in two days.”

Reeling, Corrine let herself out. Adam in love with her? Impossible.

With huge, furious strokes, Corrine slashed at the drawing on her page, crossing it out. Even sketching dresses was lost to her now. Her rebellious hand insisted on pages and pages of Adam. Adam gambling, with that curiously blank he wore when confronted with poker cards. Adam half-dressed in just his red vest and shirtsleeves, looking at her over his shoulder as he disappeared into the pines. A fully naked Adam stretched out beneath her, his arms over head and his eyes positively drowning in lust.

With a frustrated growl, Corrine tossed aside her pad and stood. She threw herself face first into her pile of pillows and screamed. She was foolhardy and stubborn. Somehow, someway, she’d managed to convince herself she could dance with the devil and remain unscathed. This was unsupportable. But what could she do? Blithely enter into an affair with no end in sight? Entrust Adam with her heart, knowing she could never marry him? That would be even stupider than making love with him in the first place.

A knock echoed on her door and Corrine sat up, dashing away her furious tears. Hopefully it would be Madame Adrianna, prepared to settle their accounts. With a bank draft in hand, she could disappear to an anonymous city and start from scratch in a place where her happiness wasn’t contingent on anyone else. Wiping away her fresh spate of tears, she snapped, “Enter!”

It wasn’t Madame.

Lissa stood at the entrance, Corrine’s hat in her hands. “You forgot something,'’ she said tentatively.

“Put it on my bed stand and go.” Corrine felt as exhausted as she sounded. “I wasn’t joking when I told you to sever all contact with me. Coming here isn’t an auspicious beginning. This is for your own good, I assure you.”

Lissa set the hat down but didn’t leave. Instead she toyed with the ebony dyed feathers that curled around the wide brim. “I despise when people tell me something is for my own good.”

“I have your best interests at heart.”

“Do you?” There was a curious gleam in the woman’s blue eyes. Corrine had to look away. Lissa had the appearance of Adam’s eyes, plus they seemed to look all the way into her soul. Like his did.

Too casually, Lissa said, “Do you know, Adam says much the same to me. Quite often.”

Corrine felt a fist wrapped around her throat, yanking tight. “Adam loves you like a brother should.'’

Her hands clasped behind her back, Lissa wandered around the small room. ‘’I do wonder at both of you, that you’re so sure what I want. What I need.” She came to a halt before the fireplace and picked up the sister to the sheep figurine that Corrine had thrown at Adam. “You and Adam both are so sure I need Inverness’s approval.”

It was a physical blow every time Lissa said Adam’s name in connection with hers. Breathy, as though socked in the guy, she said “You don’t?'’

Blond curls shimmied as she shook her head. “Their approval? No. Why should I? I have you and Adam and now I have Jonas.” An angelic smile slipped across her face at the mention of his name.

“Your children?”

“Who’s to say I’ll even be blessed with any? Or that they would even survive their infancy? No, I’ll cross that bridge if and when I come to it. If anything, I wish that people knew you the way I know you.”

“Me?”

“Yes. Then they would love you the way I do.” Crossing her arms, Lissa glanced at the ground and paused. Corrine had a sudden desire to pull a pillow over her head and hide forever. She hadn’t even thought of the drawings that had scattered from her pad. The only prayer left was a desperate hope Lissa hadn’t found the nude of her brother. They would see how much she loved Corrine then, wouldn’t they? Bending gracefully, Lissa picked up the slip of paper. It wasn’t that bad. In the picture, Adam was naked, but only his strong shoulders and his sated, post-coitus expression showed. Damning, but not humiliating.Relief shot through Corrine, releasing the breath she’d not realized she’d held.

“Do you know, the hat was not what I was talking about when I said you’d forgotten something.”

“No?”

“When you left, I found Adam in your place in the sitting room.”

“Oh?” Asinine, but Corrine couldn’t force herself to say anything else. Her fingers clutched her coverlet in an attempt to ground herself.

“Oh indeed. I’d never seen him look like that before.”

Biting her lip, Corrine tried not to ask. She didn’t need to know. It was stupid; she’d only be torturing herself further. But she blurted. “How did he look?”

“Lost.” Lissa ran the edge of the drawing through her fingers, not paying attention to it. “He looked lost.” The urge to snatch it from her before she bent it was unbelievably strong.

“I saw Madame on the way up here. She said you’re leaving.”

Morning fog must have filled Corrine’s head. Lissa’s conversation jumps were dizzying to follow. “I am. Not that it’s any of your business, any longer.”

“Hm. Why?”

“Why isn’t it your business?”

“No, why are you leaving?”

“It’s time to go. I don’t know why I’ve stayed so near my father anyway.”

“May I speak honestly?” The mattress tilted as Lissa sat next to her.

A wry smile twisted Corrine’s month. “Don’t you always?”

“I think you’re leaving because you’re scared.” Lissa spoke slowly, her words carefully measured. “I believe you’re pushing both Adam and me away for the same reason. You’re frightened that if you don’t get rid of us first, we’ll someday give up on you.”

The tassel on her pillow corner slid through Corrine’s fingers again and again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lissa turned Corrine’s chin so they were forced to look each other in the eye. ‘’Don’t you?”

Exasperated, Corrine sighed. “I wish you would cut it out with the wise woman routine.”

An airy laugh spilled out of Lissa. “What I’m trying to say is that I don’t want you to leave. I love you! I can’t speak for Adam, of course, but it’s obvious you affect him powerfully, in one way or the other.”

Corrine’s mouth flapped open and closed. She didn’t know what to do. It was too much risk to give your heart away. True, Adam already owned hers but the important part was that if he didn’t know, he couldn’t intentionally trample on it. What was she thinking? Adam was too good a man to be so cruel. Lissa was right. She was scared, so frightened she was dismissing things she already knew about people she’d trusted for years. Before she could tell Lissa what an idiot she’d been, the door burst open with a crash. On a wave of overly sweet perfume, Gertie swept in. “Sorry for barging in but you’ll never think it.”‘

Both women sprang up. “What’s going on?” asked Corrine.

“It’s that crazy McCabe. He’s done stole hisself a girl and don’t you know it, he went an’ stole Ethel Wilkes. Can you imagine that little priss stuck with the McCabe?'’ Cruelly, Gertie giggled, but Corrine almost couldn’t blame her. Ethel had once spread a rumor that Gertie had caught a social disease. She hadn’t gotten any work for two weeks, until she could get the doc to examine her.

As she remembered her last conversation with McCabe, Corrine put a hand to her temple. “This is all my fault,” she said.

“Nonsense,” Lissa said crisply.

“I told him to find a new girl, that I wouldn’t put up with him anymore.”

“So? The appropriate response to that isn’t kidnapping.”

“The men already rode out to that farmhouse the brothers all bought.” Gertie plopped herself into Corrine’s chair and hung a leg over the arm.

“But that’s not where he’ll be.”

Gertie propped her chin on a fist. “And how would you know that?'’

“He has a cabin on the Cape Fear his brothers don’t know about. He’s tried for a while to get me to go out there.”

“Hum. The McCabe’s new place is the opposite way. By the time the men get out there, search and go the other way, Miss High and Mighty Ethel will done be ruined. Wonder if Madame Adrianna will offer her a job.” Gertie pretended to consider, tapping her lips. “Naw. That girl’s just about as frigid as molasses in winter.”

Corrine could sit back and let Ethel’s fate come for her. But she wouldn’t respect herself in the morning. Apparently neither would Lissa, because she smacked Gertie’s dangling foot. “We have to do something.”

“Yes,” Corrine said, resolute. “Madame has guns in her study. Gertie you can ride, correct?”

“Anything with four or two legs.”

“Good. You ride out to meet the posse and Lissa and I will go to the cabin.”

Lissa worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “Are you sure this is a good idea? Going after him when we’re just two women?'’

Corrine smiled but even to her it felt like a grimace. “I’ll be able to handle him. I can guarantee it. I’ve got a secret weapon.”

“If you’re sure. I trust you.'’

From the cabinet in Madame’s office, Corrine and Lissa each grabbed a rifle and all three took horses from Madame Adrianna’s tiny stables. Gertie rode west to the posse, while Lissa and Corrine rode swiftly toward the Cape Fear River. They ducked low over their mounts’ necks, avoiding pine branches and moving gracefully when the horses jumped thick roots and sandy washouts. As they reached the river, they pulled up on the reins.

“Are you sure you know where we’re going?” Lissa asked.

“Absolutely. Angus gave me explicit directions should I ever decide to join him.” She turned to follow the bank north. They came to a small trail marked with a red cloth and Corrine nudged her mount down it. The path opened into a clearing a half mile down and the women saw a one room shack, made of rough hewn boards. It was a worn, light color, and a skinny horse was ground tethered in front. No sound came from inside.

Sliding her rifle from its ties, Corrine rode her horse slowly around the house, Lissa following. There was no back door and only the two windows in front.

Corrine led her horse into the woods and slid off, still clutching the cool barrel of her rifle. She tied the reins loosely to a low branch. Taking a moment to lean against the tree, she studied the shack as she worried her lip with her teeth. This was doable. They could help Ethel, with only a modicum of danger. Doing nothing was unthinkable and it would be far too late for Ethel once the posse got here.

Her hands shook slightly and her heart pounded in her chest. If, by some chance it all went wrong, she’d never see Adam again. Corrine couldn’t believe how she’d been stupid and too afraid to trust. When this was done, she’d take her chances and accept whatever Adam offered. They’d never be pillars of the community but so long as they were together, she could be happy.

A crook of her finger brought Lissa near. “You’re the better shot, so I’ll go in first,” Corrine said. “You stay behind me. If he doesn’t see the gun, maybe he won’t panic.”

“You’re going in unarmed?”

“I think I have to.” When Lissa opened her mouth again, she cut the other woman off with a gesture. The men wouldn’t get here for at least a good half hour or so and who knew what could happen to Ethel in that time? Besides, it wasn’t as if she had much to lose at this point. She put her rifle on a fallen log.

At the door, Corrine opened it as if she were coming home and hadn’t a care in the world. “Hello, Angus,” she chirruped. “I decided you needed one last time with me after all.” Dramatically, she paused. It certainly was a scene worth drama. Ethel Wilkes was tied to a wooden chair, wearing only a large apron and a matron’s cap. She looked at Corrine as if she were the cavalry approaching, her eyes wide and her cheeks wet with tears.

But the icing on the cake was Angus McCabe. He stopped in the center of the room. A large diaper wrapped around his midsection and he clutched an oversized rattle and a knife. The room was fairly but for the chair, some cabinets and a man-sized crib set in the corner. “Mamma?” he said weakly, calling Corrine as he always did during their sessions.

Corrine had to bite her tongue to hold back nervous laughter. This might just work after all. “What in the world is going on here, Baby Boy? Have you gone and gotten yourself a new momma already?”

“But you told me to.”

Corrine tisked at him and moved a few steps in and to the right so that Lissa had a clear shot. “I said no such thing.”

“You did, you did!” His voice had the whining tremolo of a toddler.

“Who’s the baby?”

“I am.” He ducked his head and ground a toe into the bare dirt floor.

“And who’s the mommy?”

“You are.”

“And Mommy’s always right.”

Angus was nodding his agreement when Lissa moved. Sunlight glinted off the raised gun barrel.

“Who’s that?” he whined, hairy jowls trembling. “This isn’t right. You’re being mean. You’re not my momma anymore!”

Raising the knife, he lunged at Ethel, who screamed. Lissa fired. The bullet winged his shoulder, a clean shot. He stumbled and fell into the wall. His injured shoulder hit first and he howled. “Why are you being mean to Baby Boy?”

“Oh shut up,” Corrine said, not unkindly. “What were you thinking, kidnapping her?”

The pitiful sack of a man didn’t answer, just cried gibberish.

“Let me go,” begged Ethel.

“In a minute,” Corrine said. “The way I see it we have two options.”

“What are you talking about?” she sniffed.

“You haven’t always been kind to my friends and me. I’m tempted to leave you there. The men will be along before long and you know they’re just as bad as women about gossiping.”

“You wouldn’t!” Ethel gasped.

Lissa snickered, even as she held her rifle trained on the still sobbing McCabe. Corrine continued as if she had never heard Ethel speak. “It seems to me a scene like this would be talked about for a month of Sundays. Of course we could release you, let you get dressed. Even put some pants on this idiot. But . . .”

“But what? I’ll do anything.”

“Seems I’ll be needing some kind of recompense from you.”

“Money? Papa will pay you anything you like.”

“No, it turns out I don’t need money,” Corrine led the simpleton to it. “You’re a bit of a gossip yourself.”

“I won’t anymore. Not about you or anyone else you say.”

“I say you don’t gossip about anyone, my friend or not!”

“Yes, ok, no gossip.”

“I’m not sure as I believe her,” said Lissa, her rifle never wavering from McCabe.

“Momma knew how bad things were with your father,” Ethel said desperately. “From talking with your mother before she passed. I’ll tell everyone and tell them you didn’t have a choice but to whore.”

A smile spread across Corrine’s face. “Deal.”

Clothes were neatly folded in the cabinet. After cutting Ethel loose with McCabe’s big knife, she dropped half the bundle in the woman’s lap and left her to fend for herself. Ethel shot her a nasty look from under short, sparse lashes. Corrine wasn’t so foolish to think that Ethel would stop gossiping for good. It was her nature to be spiteful, plus she would resent Corrine for knowing such an embarrassing thing about her. But the girl would hold her tongue for a little while, until the anger boiled over inside. With just a little bit of luck and some fast maneuvering, Corrine might have long enough to scrabble herself a slightly more respectable position. Opening a dress shop in Inverness wasn’t inconceivable. And perhaps, if she were truly lucky, there might be another opportunity still open to her. One that would involve Adam in her bed every night.

Turning her back on Ethel, Corrine made her way to where McCabe sprawled against the back wall.

“Don’t get too close to him,” Lissa warned.

“I have to.” Corrine gathered up her skirts and crouched next to him, holding his pants. “He knows you’ll shoot his balls off before you let anything happen to me. And that Adam will then feed them to hogs. Don’t you Angus?” She brushed a lock of hair off his forehead.

McCabe stared up at her, his eyes wide and filled with more than one type of pain. “That’s right,” he said softly.

Corrine helped him with his clothes, even as she continued to speak. “Is that why you didn’t try to take me?”

“Yep. Adam ain’t a man to be trifled with.”

Behind them, Ethel huffed. “I’ll have you know my father will protect me, better than that saloon keeper ever could you.”

Corrine rolled her eyes as she buttoned McCabe’s fly with practiced moves. Calling the girl stupid wasn’t the best choice right now. She glanced over her shoulder. Ethel’s dress was over her head and her slender legs were still exposed. Were there any words to express stupider than stupid? “Perhaps this isn’t the best time to draw attention to yourself,” Corrine said in a carefully modulated tone.

“I’m going to be in trouble, aren’t I?” asked Angus.

She turned back to McCabe. “Yes. But I imagine we can get you sent to Dix Hill, in Raleigh. I hear it’s not so bad. Careful diet and exercise.”

“I lost everything lately. If I had a mother she could fix it all. That’s what mothers do. Fix things.”

Corrine thought of her own mother, languishing in a darkened room with a scented cloth over her forehead. “Yes, mothers want the best for their children.”

Suddenly McCabe grabbed Corrine’s hand. The sharp ratchet of the rifle action echoed in the little room but he didn’t seem to notice. “You won’t let them lynch me, will you?”

Corrine waved Lissa off behind her back. “No, don’t worry.”

As Ethel did up her buttons, Corrine stood and helped with the ones the other woman couldn’t quite reach. “The other thing you shouldn’t forget,” Corrine said quietly, “is that I know how to spread rumors as well. Like a nasty one that Lissa and I got here too late, after you’d been compromised.”

“But that’s not true!” Ethel whirled to face her.

“No. It’s not. But could you ever prove it’s not?”

“Of course. I’m still a virgin.”

“Are you? That’s not what I heard. Men who wouldn’t dream of breathing a word of certain conquests think nothing of speaking to a whore. Don’t think to cross me.”

Ethel turned an unflattering shade of purple.

The bone shaking thumps of horse hooves pounded outside. Saddles creaked and quite a few voices called “Whoa!” Thank heavens she and Lissa had come on their own. It was so like men to ride in with a full frontal attack, giving no thought to the consequences. Why, anything could have happened. McCabe had that hunting knife. If she and Lissa hadn’t snuck up and surprised him, it was possible he could have killed Ethel. Corrine wanted to believe he wasn’t actually capable of it but it was hard to really know.

Her hands linked in front of her waist, Corrine stepped into the dooryard. She stood in the open so none of the thick headed men would think she was being coerced.

Adam rode near the front of the pack, on a huge black horse. He was behind Sheriff McLeary by only inches, barely holding himself back. Full of cold fire, Adam’s gaze locked on her. Corrine swallowed hard. No, she’d made the right choice, no matter how angry Adam was. “It’s over, gentlemen. Everything is under control.” She spoke in an even tone but projected from her diaphragm to ensure everyone heard.

“My girl!” Mr. Wilkes clamored down and wove through the crowd. “Where is my girl?'’

“I’m right here, Papa.” Ethel stepped out, looking none the worse for wear. She ran into her father’s outstretched arms. He was shorter than her, yet she bent and rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m fine papa, just fine.”

“My poor baby.”

“No, it’s all right Papa. I was frightened but Corrine and Lissa arrived in time.” She shot Corrine a look of pure calculation over her father’s shoulder.

“Indeed we did. Jonas, could you please go relieve Lissa?”

“Goddamned fools, the both of you,” Jonas muttered as he slid down and strode into the shack. A few men followed him but they seemed calm, walking slowly. A couple looked around with a dazed look, as if they weren’t quite sure what had happened. Corrine could almost feel amused by it. They’d ridden out, expecting to be the heroes of the day, only to find out they’d been shown up by two women and hadn’t even been riding in the right direction.

Sheriff McLeary approached. ‘’What in the world were you thinking, child? You should have waited on us.”

Saying nothing, Corrine did her best to keep a smug smile off her face. Lissa was one of the best shots in the county and Corrine couldn’t help but think it had all turned out well. She risked a glance at Adam and all desire to smile fled. Cold blue flames still snapped in his eyes and the muscle in his jaw ticked rapidly. He still sat atop his horse, as rigid as a bronze statue. One hand fisted on the reins and the other clenched and released on his thigh. Corrine bit her lip and looked away.

It didn’t take for McCabe to be led away, his hands and feet bound. Corrine mounted her horse. Jonas and Lissa had already disappeared. Corrine felt a strange sense of let down. The energy that had flooded her during the danger slipped away like morning dew under a summer sun. Her hands shook imperceptibly. She wanted to ignore the heated looks Adam shot her way and make her own way to the whorehouse. The obstinate man would feel it was necessary to scold her for awhile and Corrine didn’t know if she had the patience. It wasn’t as if he had any say so over her person.

But when she had been unsure of the day’s outcome, Adam had been her only regret. For all her bravado, Corrine had been quite aware she could fail and she wished more than anything she hadn’t run away from Adam.

She rode behind him and allowed him to lecture her all the way into town. He continued even as they arrived at his house and handed their horses off to a stable boy, his speech full of words like “foolhardy” and “reckless.” Inside, Adam veered for the sitting room, but Corrine stopped following. She stood on the bottom stair.

Adam noticed she wasn’t in the room and stormed into the hallway. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I have no desire to be yelled at where anyone could walk in.” Removing her pins, Corrine pulled off her hat and set it on the wooden newel. “Lissa could be home at any moment.”

“I imagine Jonas is keeping her quite busy.” Adam stood with his fists on his narrow hips, glowering up at her.

“Still, there are the servants.” Stripping her lace gloves and dropping them, Corrine mounted a couple stairs.

“It’s Mrs. Jenkins’s day off.”

“That is convenient.” She moved up two more steps. ‘’Do you know we have yet to make love in a bed?'’

*

Adam’s brain turned into a bowl of grits. Pure mush. A minute ago, he’d been angry for some reason but now he couldn’t remember why. All he could think of was Corrine naked on his large bed. He’d kiss and taste her all over and slip into the wet heat that would grip him so tightly. But first he would see if she still tasted of honey and spice.

Corrine slipped free a few of the seed pearl buttons that marched up the front of her dress. Adam’s breath stuttered in his throat as he waited for a glimpse of the full swells of her breasts. Instead she reached up and began pulling pins from her soft brown hair. In the silence, they made tinny plinks as they fell to the stairs. A brown curtain fell around her shoulders and Corrine shook it out. “That’s much better. Do you know it gets tiring having all that piled on your head? Men have it much easier.”

Adam thought he grunted. Maybe. The woman drove him mad. When would Lissa return? There was no way to really know but hopefully it would be hours. If that was even enough. Adam could have Corrine in his bed for days and it wouldn’t be enough.

She undid two more buttons, revealing the heavy under-curve of her breasts behind a sheer chemise. His palms itched to touch them. She touched her hips, smoothing down her skirt as innocently as if she’d gotten up from tea.

Adam couldn’t take one more moment of teasing. He stalked up the stairs toward Corrine, who giggled and stepped up.

“Corrine,” he said.

He felt like he warned her, but of what he had no idea. Did he want her to stand still or to run so he could chase her? She made the choice for him, turning and darting upstairs, scrambling down the hall. She must have known where his bedroom was because she headed unerringly for it. Adam caught up to her at the threshold, before she could get the door open, and pinned her lightly to the wall.

She smelled like flowers and gasped — from her short run or arousal, Adam didn’t know. Her hair tangled around her shoulders and Adam gently gathered it, draping it over one shoulder. He kissed her bared neck and she shivered.

“We’ve yet to make it to a bed, Adam.”

“I’m surprisingly fine with that.” He scraped his teeth along the taught tendon. “There is something about you that drives me insane. Always has been.”

“Always?'’

“Always. Even when you were my sister’s virginal friend, I wanted to pull you into dark corners and kiss you blind.'’ He slid a hand into her gaping blouse and cupped the heavy weight of her breast. She arched into his touch. He flicked her nipple and it pebbled instantly. “When I returned and found you’d become a whore, I was furious. Not because of your choice but because another man touched these, tasted these before me.”

“And now?” She moved restlessly in the loose cage of his arms, and rested her forehead against the papered wall. “Are you still mad at me?”

“No. I’ve realized something.” The rest of her buttons released easily and Adam traced the soft curve of her belly through her chemise. The silk was smooth but Adam knew from experience her skin would feel ninety times better.

“What’s that?'’

“Huh?'’ Adam was searching for the clasp to her skirt but he couldn’t find it.

“What did you realize?” She sounded faintly exasperated.

Adam couldn’t allow that. He returned to her breasts, massaging them and tweaking her nipples, as he laved her neck.

“I’ve realized it doesn’t matter who’s had you first or how many there have been since. So long as I’m the last.”

Adam opened the door to his room and pulled her in with him, pushing her up against the closed door. Adam kissed her and she joined in fully darting her tongue into his mouth, then sucking lightly on his when their positions changed. He worked fast, until all her clothes were stripped and she was a fragrant bundle of skin and curves and dips in his arms.

Her leg rose and wrapped around his thigh and Adam hitched it over his hip, giving himself easy access. He palmed the taut ass under his hand, then dipped around to her cleft. She was hot and wet and the position of her leg left her open for his exploration. Softly, he grazed her lips and the crisp curls, then delved in to circle the tight bud at the top. Corrine moaned and tried to claw him closer, her nails digging into his jacket, Adam stroked her until she came, her head falling back and a pink flush suffusing her delicate skin.

He eased up, petting her slowly and supporting her weight as she came back to earth. Her eyes focused on him but her pupils were still dilated. She licked her plump lips.

“Bed?'’ she said hoarsely.

“I’m not sure. I like this.”

Corrine laughed, a full throated purr, but she lowered her leg. Grabbing his skinny tie, she walked to the bed. “It works for me too. But let’s see if we can do even better.'’ The mattress dipped as she clambered up on it and arranged herself against the pillows. She patted the cover next to her ship slim hips. “Come here, but get naked first. I’m getting a bit tired of being the only one unclothed around here.”

“It makes for such a wonderful view for me.”

She was beautiful, draped across the mounds of pillows. Adam had complained when Lissa decorated his big bed with heaps of satin edged nonsense but now he appreciated her unknowing vision and forethought. Corrine was a pagan goddess surrounded by luxury, her decadent body displayed for him. As he slowly undressed, he took in her lush curves, the coy way her leg was tipped to conceal her sex. Most of all, he loved the sensual look in her eye as she watched each bit of his own body revealed.

When he had only his pants on, the front placket drooping open and barely concealing him, Corrine bit her lip. She touched her swollen breast and Adam nearly came undone. He stripped off his pants and fell to her, fitting the sharp edges of his hips to the welcoming softness of hers.

Adam framed her face in his hands and stared into her eyes. She looked steadily back at him, unquestioning. A soft smile tipped her lips and there was an answering throb in his chest. Never before had he felt a connection this deep with anyone. Adam dropped a soft kiss on Corrine’s lips. Or at least it was meant to be soft. Instantly the fires of lust consumed them and they kissed furiously with Adam licking into her mouth.

A shift of his hips fitted Adam’s cock to her entrance and he sank deep with one thrust. A ragged moan ripped from Corrine’s throat and he checked himself. The last thing he would ever want to do would be to hurt her in any way but perhaps he had moved too quickly.

“Are you OK?” If he ignored how raw his voice sounded, perhaps she would as well. If she wasn’t all right Adam would force himself to withdraw, even if it was one of the most difficult things of his life to pull out of the clinging satin heat.

“I’m even better than that.” Corrine laced her hands behind Adam’s neck and drew him down for a kiss, even as she hooked her legs around his ass.

With a groan, Adam stroked in and out, loving the quiet moans that sounded in his ear. The sensations built intensely and Adam’s balls tightened as a tingling started in his lower back. He wasn’t sure how long he would be able to hold on. Levering himself up on one arm, he reached down and stroked her fevered button in time with his thrusts. Just in time, the tiny fluttering of her orgasm pulled on his cock. With one more hard thrust, Adam came, burying himself deep in her body and his face at her neck.

When he was able to gather his thoughts, Adam discovered he lay heavily on Corrine. She wasn’t complaining and instead was lazily running her nails up and down his back. It sent tingles down his spine that were both wonderful and almost more than he could handle in his oversensitive state. With a groan Adam rolled over and tucked Corrine into the crook of his shoulder. She fit there perfectly, just like she fit him everywhere else from the physical to the emotional.

He sighed. “Wasn’t I mad at you?”

“Hmm. Maybe?” She played with his chest hairs.

“What am I going to do with you?”

She raised her head off his chest and looked down at him. There was a smile on her face but in the depths of her eyes Adam read vulnerability. “Love me forever?”

Gently he kissed her. “Yes. That I can do. I suppose you’ll marry me then?”

She chewed softly on her lip. “No. Not yet at least.”

Anger was attempting to rip through him but Adam shoved it back with a couple deep breaths and a raised eyebrow to express his displeasure. “And why not?”

“I have a plan.” Briefly she confessed how she’d blackmailed Ethel Wilkes, including the truth about how she and Lissa had found the pair. “I’ll never be exactly respected but I believe I can improve my situation. And by effect, both of ours if we’re married.”

“If this doesn’t work out? I love you anyway. I’d marry you no matter what.”

She cupped his jaw in her tiny hand. “I know. I love you too.” That saucy grin he loved so much, the one which was making more appearances, tipped her lips. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll live in sin.”

Laughing, Adam rolled her onto her back and buried his face in her breasts. “So long as I have you, that would be fine with me.”

I’d really like to thank Lorelie Brown again for sharing with us this wonderful tale. It was a fabulous few weeks. We love you, Lorelie!

Lorelie Brown is a goddess walking among us. She works for the US Government and is married to a paratrooper who’s very stingy with his X chromosomes. As a result, they’re trying to turn three hellions into well behaved little boys. She can order a beer in five languages and is one of those annoying people who always win at Trivial Pursuit.

Occasionally she even remembers to move the laundry from the washer to the dryer.

This an original story given generously to us by Lorelie Brown. DO NOT post any part of this story on your site without attribution to Lorelie or a holla-back at her site. That’s not cool. Always give credit where credit is due, yo.

Till, then… Love, peace, and snarkage, my babies. Peace!

The PLOT:

Neomi: I’m a happy little ballerina and no man can ever hold me down! I bought this lovely mansion all by myself and I will not marry. So Hah!

Evil Ex-Fiance: Not so fast, Fickle Bitch Who Broke My Heart. You will feel the pain you have wrought upon me. Stabby-stabbity-stab-stab!

Neomi: Oh no! I’m bleeding all over the place. Why am I dying? Everyone loves me and I just bought a new house! What a world, what a world…

[80 years later…]

Conrad: I am a killer assassin and a vampire with red eyes! I Kill! I’m EVOL! MWAHAHA!

Conrad’s Brothers: WE WILL SAVE YOU! WE WILL DRUG YOU AND CHAIN YOU UP TO A BED IN THIS SUPPOSEDLY HAUNTED MANSION!

Conrad’s Brother #3: Why are we shouting?

Conrad’s Brother #1: …’cause we’re passionate?

Conrad: NO! I HATE YOU ALL! I will keeel you and everyone you love ’cause I’m keeerazy.

Conrad’s Brother #2: We’re doing this ’cause we love you, brother [injects drug]. Later, beeyatch. Let’s go, Other Brothers Who Have Found Their Mates in Books of Their Own.

[Conrad is alone]

Neomi: I am a ghost… ghostie-ghostie doing ghost things… I have telekinesis and I’m quirky, so I’m also a klepto. Look here, a hot crazy vampire man!

Conrad: I’m keeeerazy… this hot ghost can’t be real. Keeerazy people see keeeerazy things!

Neomi: I will save you with my dancing and cute French accent!

Conrad: I find you hot… I think you’re my Bride.

Neomi: You’re silly. I’m a ghost.

Conrad: We will find a way to be together. You’ve cured me from my crazy with your beauty.

Neomi: Oh no, obstacles!

Conrad: We will defeat them together.

[kiss]

FIN!

The Heroine: Dear Author was just talking about the females in Kresley Cole’s books and how they tend to be fierce, clever, strong, and more sexually experienced than the hero and that definitely holds true here (Con is a veeeergin). Neomi Laress was left an orphan at the age of sixteen when her mother died and she was forced to make her living as a burlesque dancer (a non-skanky stripper), just so she could eat. On her own, she pursues her dream of becoming a ballet dancer and is successful enough that she is able to buy her own mansion without any help from men. For several years as a ghost, she entertains herself by stealing from the tenants of her mansion and spying on them. When Con arrives, she decides he is going to be her new plaything. She isn’t afraid of him, takes care of him, is sexually aggressive with him, and takes no guff from him. What I like about Neomi is that she is proactive. She doesn’t just sit around, wailing about her pitiful existence… she finds ways to entertain herself. Hell, she knows how to masturbate! When she and Con finally get to do it, she is the one directing him and teaching him how to touch her (those scenes are wicked hot). She tames Con’s beastliness by being a no-nonsense woman. Sure, she can be a tad bit manipulative at times, but it’s rare that we read about a heroine who is the one calling the shots. She can make the hero feel uncertain with a few well-placed barbs. She’s got him hooked from Day One, yet can keep her cool around him. I like this girl!

The Hero: …not that Conrad is a pussy or anything. He is a big, strong vampire thing. But he is definitely not as unique as a Neomi. He is your paranormal romance hero staple: all growls and tortured past and making like he’s Broody McAngstyman until he meets the woman of his dreams and he’s all of a sudden Mate! Mine! Mate! Mine! …while pulling some Broody McAngstyman shenanigans. He is seriously scary at times, though. You see, he’s a vampire-assassin who’s pretty damned ruthless and the fact that he craves blood drawn from a vein like it’s heroin (though heroin is injected into the vein. ha ha) makes him pretty frickin’… I don’t know. I’ve never been scared of a romance novel hero before, but he came pretty close to freaking me out. And he’s kind of mean, too. He yells at Neomi, tends to man-handle her (when she finally becomes corporeal, which is pretty fun to read about in itself), and acts like a possessive psycho when they finally get together. Seriously, is that supposed to be sexy? What is with paranormal romance heroes who get psychotic-possessive about their lady loves? I know it’s the whole bad-boy thing, but in real life, psychotic-possessive boyfriends almost always ends up killing the woman just because she looked at another man. And that is after he smacks her around a little bit and chains her to the radiator. But for the purposes of this novel, I guess Conrad is crazy-sexy, if a little bit unhinged. Yeah, that’s his appeal, sisters.

The Secondary Characters: If you haven’t read any of Kresley Cole’s books, you’ll probably be a little lost. People from the previous books pop up here, including Mariketa the Awaited and Bowen McRieve, the couple from the 3rd book of the series, and actually play an integral part in the story. It’s not necessary that you read their book to be able to enjoy this one, but it’s probably advisable since it was pretty damn good, IMHO. What I like about Kresley Cole’s series and the way she deals with characters popping up from her other books is that she seamlessly integrates them into the new book. She’s not just sequel-baiting; she’s telling ONE big story and of course it’s only natural that these people weave in and out of each other’s lives. They don’t just stand around and say hi (… Sherrilyn Kenyon and Julia Quinn— speaking of Julia Quinn, I just pre-ordered her Duke books. I AM SO WEAK! I’m like Bam with LKH) [Bam: Yo, seriously, you’re a bitch.]; they’re actually part of the story. I also like how the previous female characters tend to become a support system for the heroine-of-the-hour (to deal with that psychotically-possessive hero, I suppose). These books truly are all about GRRRL! POWER! and while that shit usually annoys me, I quite enjoy it in Ms. Cole’s books. ‘Cause they are some powerful females, yo! I bet if you pit these Valkeries and Witches against the Brotherhood from JR Ward’s books, those fuckers will be running for the hills clutching their balls in fear.

Ai! Grabe… Says: For serious, I TOTES LOVED THIS BOOK (almost everything about it). It’s totally a Beauty and the Beast story with an awesome twist (it is not the Beast that confines the girl, but the HOUSE itself). I wasn’t a giant fan of our hero-man Con (but that’s because I’m… okay… A LITTLE GAY in a way that I like girls… a lot. Okay, exclusively… I am a homosexual female who loves reading heterosexual romance novels. Oh FSM, whyyyyyyyyy!) [Bam: Seriously, this is sooo not the time for a confessional], but I was definitely enamored with Neomi, the heroine. Oh, she’s sooooo my favorite. She’s, like… Summer Glau in that episode of Angel where she’s a ballerina who gets kidnapped by this evol theater-owner who forces her to dance for eternity… wait a minute. I was TOTES picturing Summer Glau in the role of Neomi! Hmm… Anyway, that’s also the episode where Cordy and Angel almost do it ’cause they’re possessed or some shit. Grooooss! ON WITH THE REVIEW, AI! I have to admit that I picked up this book because of the ghost angle. I love books where the hero or the heroine is a ghost and the author has to find a way to get them together because… uh, yeah, one of them is NON-CORPOREAL. The fact that our two romantic leads can’t touch also sets it up so THEY HAVE TO TALK. I hate problems in boks that could have been resolved if the two leads had enough brain cells to rub together AND actually SAT DOWN TO DISCUSS THEIR ISSUES. There’s this really hot scene where the two of them are hanging out and Neomi demands that Con tell her what he would do to her if he could touch her. That scene was sooooooo super-hot that I almost wanted to make out with Con myself. Almost. Though the resolution of the whole ghost-thing was a little too neat and a little too convenient for me, I have to say that Ms. Cole makes it work because she has set up a world where it IS possible. I BOUGHT IT. Sure, it goes a little wrong (as these things tend to do) and the result is MY WORST NIGHTMARE EVER [Bam: Mine too. High-five! *crickets* Okay… self high-five.] but all’s well that end’s well and I CANNOT WAIT FOR THE NEXT BOOK. Especially the one about Conrad’s Brother who has a Bride he can’t tell anyone about… damn. That’s hot. Anyway, I’m off to harass Bam for Furry’s book. See ya.

You may buy this fabulous book here.

Before an aspiring author is published, one of the things they can do to get feedback and also get their work in front of an editor is to enter contests, which are held by local Romance Writers of America chapters across the country. To enter, the writer sends some amount of money (these are also fundraisers for chapters), three to five copies of the first few chapters of their manuscript and then they wait. Other authors normally judge the preliminary rounds and then finalists are announced. These finalists have their manuscripts sent to romance editors or literary agents, who then rank the winners and occasionally ask to see more of the manuscript.

As you can imagine, these contests, especially ones with prestige, are very popular.

Before I was published, I entered three. I wrote over 10 manuscripts, for 4 years and I entered three. Why? I was never that into the contests, I always worried about too many cooks in my creative kitchen and those things can get expensive. I sold via a query letter that landed me an agent who then sold my work to a publisher. In other words, the old fashioned way.

And yet, the moment I became published, suddenly a whole new world of contests opened up to me. The Published Author contests. Most are also hosted by RWA Chapters, you still pay them some amount of money and then you send a few copies of your book. Only most of these contests are judged by readers and booksellers and librarians (oh my!).

It was like someone had injected crack directly into my brain. I entered one. Then another. Then another. Help, I can’t stop, there’s another one! What’s better is… I started to final! I was an Award-Finaling Author Jenna Petersen, not just Boring Old Author Jenna Petersen.

On days when the finalists for contests are announced, I find myself nervously watching the phone. For some unknown reason, I keep giving people my cell phone and I never have that with me. In the many times I have finaled in contests, the person calling has only reached me ONCE. Once!! So I’ve learned I was a finalist via email and voicemail.

The one time I did get the news live, I was in the grocery store! In the Snackwell cookie aisle. I put the “good for you” cookies away and bought a sundae.

But as much as I finaled, I never won. I have a wall of certificates saying that I’m a finalist for best historical, best historical romantic suspense, best… actually that’s it, just the same thing over and over.

Until now. I have finally won a contest! My November 2007 erotic historical romance, Everything Forbidden won 1st place in the Erotica/Steamy category in the From the Heart Romance Writers’ Lories contest. Ranked by readers, thank you very much. But has this tempered my addiction? No! In fact, now that I’ve had a taste of victory… I want more.

Hello, I’m Jenna Petersen, and I’m addicted to contests.

So what are your secret addictions? Ever won a contest of any kind? I’ll chose a winner from the comments who will receive a signed copy of my newest book (which will be entering contests as soon as I can), Something Reckless (Jess Michaels, Available Now!).

If you haven’t already, please read chapters one two, three, four, five, and six.

Two years ago, Corrine McQuade was desperate to escape her father’s house. In a perfect world, she would have run to Adam Springton, handsome owner of the Gilded Angel saloon and the man she’d daydreamed about for years. Believing he saw her as only his sister’s best friend, Corrine struck out on her own, finding employment and creating the best life she could. Suddenly Adam is paying attention to her – the kind of attention that makes her skin tingle and heat and she’s tempted by a new chance at love.

But who ever heard of a happy ending for a whore?

Presenting the seventh chapter of Lorelie Brown’s Tarnished Angel…

Chapter Seven

Corrine knocked on Lissa’s front door before she lost her nerve. Her friend had sent round a note, asking her to come by at the earliest opportunity. Subtly, Corrine wiped her damp hands along her skirt. If Lissa had been unable to tell Corrine had an infatuation with Adam for nearly a decade, there was no way her friend would be able to discern they were now having a clandestine affair.

If two encounters an affair made.

Adam heavy, thrusting into her, her face buried in his neck. The broad stretch of his shoulders and Corrine’s ankles wrapped around the small of his back.

Corrine held her cool hands to her flushed cheeks. Yes, it was an affair. It simply could not continue.

Their relationship had no future. While Adam was on the fringes of acceptable society in their tiny town, he could still mix with polite company. Even if a miracle happened and Adam fell to his knees before her, begging Corrine to be his wife, she could never accept. Any children they had would be pariahs, paying for their mother’s poor decisions. To continue in secret was not an option either. A little piece of her heart had already been sacrificed to him. Corrine didn’t want to give up any more.

The door opened and Corrine dropped her hands guiltily. “You’re here,” Lissa chirruped and bundled Corrine quickly into the parlor. She shut the door behind them. “I’ve something to tell you.” Lissa’s eyes were bright and she looked the happiest Corrine had seen her in a long time.

“Do tell.” Corrine unpinned her bonnet and set it on the settee.

“I’ve told Jonas all about sleeping with Phillip and he doesn’t care. Isn’t that marvelous?”

“Marvelous,” Corrine echoed. She wanted to be happy for her friend. Instead there was a funny little pang above her corset. She rubbed it absently. Perhaps she’d laced her strings too tightly. “Are you to be married, then?”

“Oh yes. I’m so thrilled. He’s such a good man and he makes me laugh.”

Corrine forced herself to smile. “I’m quite happy for you.” She embraced her excited, giddy friend, and then pushed her to arm’s length. “You realize you must break all ties with me now.”

She could hardly choke it out. She wanted nothing more than to seal the words up in her chest and hope Lissa never noticed reality. Corrine was giving up her only friend, for her own good.

“Why would you say that?” Lissa’s face fell.

“It’s true. It was one thing to thumb your nose at the town’s society when it was only your life at stake.”

“I know Jonas doesn’t mind our friendship. I made sure he knew I would never give you up.” Lissa’s eyes were huge. Corrine felt like she was kicking a kitten.

“Neither of you are looking to the future then. Marriage means children.” Corrine’s eyes prickled and her nose felt tight. She’d always wanted a squirming baby of her own and now she was even giving up the chance to be near one. She would ensure Lissa’s children had every opportunity, even if it meant staying far away.

“Yes, I hope for two,” Lissa said. “And you’ll be Auntie Corrine.”

“Open your eyes,” Corrine said. She tried to keep the sharpness out of her voice but it came out clipped anyhow. “The town might be able to overlook a youthful indiscretion. Times are changing and if you give every example of an upstanding young matron they will want to look kindly on you. It won’t be possible if you’re friends with a whore.”

“I don’t care if the town accepts me.” Lissa’s hands fisted at her side and her breath went rapid and shallow.

“You’ll care if they accept your children.”

Lissa jerked back as if Corrine had slapped her and her hands fell open. Poor kitten. Corrine wanted to hug her again and pet her. Lissa never had been one for thinking about consequences.

An awful silence descended. Corrine could practically see the wheels turning in Lissa’s mind as she looked for a way out and found nothing. Her shoulders slumped.

“Can we never associate?” Lissa’s asked plaintively.

Corrine forced herself to shake her head. “I don’t see how.”

“I can’t pretend not to know you.”

“You will, if you don’t want your children ostracized.”

“It wouldn’t be as bad as all that.”

Grey haired Mrs. Jenkins knocked and stuck her head in, saving Corrine from having to say anything cruel. “We’ve a problem with the hen house, Miss Springton,” said the housekeeper.

“Not now, please.”

“But miss there’s a board loose an’ half of them done escaped.” She twisted her white apron. “I’m not fast enough to catch ‘em all.”

Lissa looked to Corrine, her hands out in supplication. “Go, go,” Corrine said. “I’ll wait here for you.”

With one more lost look over her shoulder, Lissa followed Mrs. Jenkins out the door. Putting a hand to her temple, Corrine sank onto an embroidered seat. Just when she thought she’d fallen low enough, there was another turn for the worse.

She would have to leave. There was no other answer. There was no way she could live without friends. At least if she moved elsewhere she had a good chance of making new friends. More people meant more possible acquaintances on the social level she’d chosen for herself.

A scuffling noise outside the door caused Corrine to sit up straighter and apply a pleasant expression to her face. All she wanted to do was fall to the floor and wrap her arms around Lissa’s ankles. She’d beg the other woman to never abandon her. They could be pariahs together. But it wasn’t an option.

Instead, Adam entered. Throwing herself to the carpet still seemed like a good idea. Except this time she would open her arms and beg him to make love to her, just so she could have one more taste of heaven. If there was any justice, she would never have to see Adam’s handsome face again.

“Good afternoon.” If she behaved with proper decorum perhaps he would follow her example.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Apparently proper behavior couldn’t be hoped for. On the other hand, she’d had Adam deep within her body. She knew him all over, knew his eyes turned the blue-grey of a hurricane sky with lust. Desiring decorum was foolhardy. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Please don’t curse around me.”

“I’m sorry. I meant to do better. I lost my head when I saw that depressed look on your face.”

Lifting her head, Corrine looked at him wide eyed. “Pardon?”

“I said I’d meant to do better. It’s obviously important to you.” A sly grin spread across his mouth. “Though I do like your type of punishment.”

Her blush brought with it flashes of Adam’s mouth on her skin and the thrust of his hips between her limbs. “You are awful.”

Adam cocked his head to the side. “Yes, but that’s not new enough to upset you. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, nothing.”

“Will you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Has Lissa told you her news yet?” Of all the days to forget her handkerchief. She poked through her reticule again but it didn’t appear.

“Yes. I’m quite happy for her.”

“I am too.” She dissolved into tears.

Adam picker her up and carried her over to a settee. He sat and settled her in his lap, her limbs stretched over his. Adam rubbed her back in tiny circles and made soothing noises in her ear. For a brief moment, Corrine allowed herself to bury her nose in his clean blue double-breasted vest. Staying like that forever had its own attractions, avoiding reality being the strongest. While she was at it, she could pretend she and Adam would leave Inverness together and start over.

When Corrine sniffed delicately, Adam produced a handkerchief from his town coat. Corrine told him of the decision she’d made to leave as he wiped her cheeks.

“There’s that impatience again,” he said, as he tapped the end of her nose.

Ooh, the insufferable man. “Should I stay here and be miserable, shucked even more to the side?”

The comforting strokes on her back stopped. It was past time to scramble off his lap but Adam’s arms turned into copper bands around her. This was unbelievably improper. Oh, who was she kidding? They were far beyond those worries. Now that she was done feeling sorry for herself, she became aware of the strength she drew from Adam. His heartbeat thumped sound and steady beneath her cheek. Corrine knew she should fight harder to get up but she was too tired. She sighed and leaned into him.

“Where will you go?”

“I’m not sure,” she said. “Raleigh maybe. Atlanta is almost completely rebuilt.”

“And what will you do?”

It was nice to not be forced to look Adam in the eyes. She played with the cloth-covered button on his cross-over style necktie. “I’ll look for work as a seamstress. But with no references, I’ll probably end up in the same position I’m in now.” Adam’s thighs grew rigid beneath her. She could feel the anger rolling off him in waves. “Do you see another option?” Corrine snapped peevishly. “Are you offering me one?”

He tipped her head up and forced her to look at him. Emotions tumbled through his deep blue eyes, finally settling with a solemnity she read as pity. “Stay in Inverness. With me.”

Where had she put that blasted linen? It was tangled up in her skirts and Corrine furiously dashed the tears away. “I won’t stay here simply because you feel sorry for me.”

“You think I pity you?” The soft bow of his lips turned down. Corrine traced it with a fingertip.

“I know you do. You lament the fact that you couldn’t help me.”

Clasping her shoulders, Adam gave Corrine a little shake. “I may feel a lot of things for you but pity is not one of them.”

His mouth descended in a fiercely bruising kiss and Corrine gave it back in equal measures. The kiss was wild, a furious duel of lips and tongue and breath. He moved down her neck, nipping at her.

“This is certainly not pity,” Adam breathed into her skin.

His nimble hand slid under her petticoat, leaving licks of trembling fire in its wake. Adam coaxed her legs apart and she let them go. He dipped through the slit in her pantaloons, grazing her receptive flesh. Corrine trembled and arched until she pushed down on Adam’s hand. With one thumb he pressed the hot knot of nerves at the top of her and with a finger he stroked a shivery place deep inside. A few short touches later, Corrine broke apart, keening into Adam’s mouth.

Corrine jerked back, shoving with all her might so that she launched off his lap. What had she just done, without a thought to the consequences? There had only been the unspeakable pleasure Adam offered every time he touched her. Shaken, she stood before him and Adam rose to meet her. The bastard didn’t even look ruffled, his coat still buttoned and his hair smoothly combed back. Corrine’s gaze dropped below his waistband and her stomach toppled. There was an impressive bulge there.

He tipped her head up with a knuckle. “Dammit, you’re not going anywhere.”

“There’s that cussing again,” she said absently. Her hand rose to her throat, feeling her pounding pulse. Lissa could have walked in at any moment. There was no controlling herself around Adam. If she stayed in this town, she’d continue to betray her friend.

“Make me stop,” Adam said. A wide grin spread across his face and his eyes were bright. “Stay here and teach me not to curse.”

He already owned half her heart with his kindness and his domineering command of her body. There was no reason to blithely hand over the rest.

Since she was almost afraid he’d pounce on her when she gave her answer, Corrine backed out of the room. “I cannot do it,” she said. “I will not be your mistress.”

Corrine shut the door behind herself. It was likely just wishful thinking when she heard Adam say “Who said mistress?”

Later that evening, Corrine slipped into Madame Adrianna’s office. “Do you have a moment?”

The elegantly dressed woman set down her fountain pen and folded her hands on the green desk blotter. “Of course.”

Corrine sat into the chair across from the desk and folded her hands as well. It was unlikely Madame had made the gesture in an attempt to keep her hands from trembling. “I’m afraid I cannot continue to work for you.”

“I’d anticipated this.” As she drew an account ledger closer, Madame smiled. “You’ve paid off the initial investment I made in your wardrobe long ago. Since your vices are not expensive, your account should make a handsome dowry.”

“Dowry?” Corrine repeated dumbly. “I’ve no need for a dowry.” Though she realized now she’d been particularly stupid about her wages. Money had never seemed vitally important in her decision. A way to escape her father’s house and a roof over her head had been enough. It couldn’t be too crass to ask about money when she’d already earned it flat on her back.

If it was a sizeable amount perhaps she could begin a small dress shop of her own. Then she wouldn’t need references. Just how much did Madame consider a handsome sum? She didn’t require much. A tiny storefront with a workshop in the back, some stock in cloth and other materials. A building with living quarters above would be ideal. She could do the sewing herself to begin with and if she was successful eventually hire assistants. It was only right if she were a bit more lax than other employers with regards to references and history.

“Why are you leaving me then?” A fine line appeared between Madame’s lowered brows.

“I’ve decided to leave town.”

“Child, I oughtta slap you in your mind.” The thick Southern accent Madame worked so hard to weed out of her speech cropped up.

“Pardon?”

“You mean to tell me you ain’t hitchin’ yourself up with Adam Springton?”

Corrine blinked and shook the cobwebs out of her head. “Why would you think such a thing?”

“Because he finally came for you, girl. And don’t think I didn’t notice the day you came in well tumbled.”

Her slippers swam into view as Corrine looked down at the floor. No one had been in the front hall. It had been easy to believe she’d slid in unnoticed. “While Adam and I may have had. . . an encounter or two, I don’t see why you should leap to such far-fetched conclusions.”

“A body with half a brain can see that boy’s been in love with you for years.”

“Adam Springton is no boy.” It was easier to latch on to than the woman’s other, unsupportable statement.

Madame wouldn’t let her skirt the issue. “Boy, man, monkey, he loves you. Goodness girl, he was one of the prime reasons I was so hesitant to take you on. Didn’t you notice I invested very little in you at first? I felt sure as soon as Adam returned from Atlanta he’d snatch you back.”

An affronted sniff slipped out of Corrine. “I begin to wonder why you even took me on in that case.”

“I’da been ashamed to call myself a business woman otherwise. I had a chance to entice the higher class men of this town and I took it. I’ll keep it, too, once you’re gone. Mr. Heath’s taken quite a shine to Gertie when you weren’t available.”

“I’d thank you kindly to figure up my sums and prepare the funds. I’ll need them in a matter of days.”

“Haven’t you gotten high and mighty? You’ll be speaking to Adam before you think of going anywhere?”

“I’ll do no such thing. There is no future between us.”

“I didn’t figure you a fool. If I had any chance of an upstanding man being interested in me, I’d grab on with both hands.” Madame expelled a gusty sigh. “Get out of here. I’ll have your money ready in two days.”

Reeling, Corrine let herself out. Adam in love with her? Impossible.

Stay tuned next week for the conclusion of Tarnished Angel…

Lorelie Brown is a goddess walking among us. She works for the US Government and is married to a paratrooper who’s very stingy with his X chromosomes. As a result, they’re trying to turn three hellions into well behaved little boys. She can order a beer in five languages and is one of those annoying people who always win at Trivial Pursuit.

Occasionally she even remembers to move the laundry from the washer to the dryer.

This an original story given generously to us by Lorelie Brown. DO NOT post any part of this story on your site without attribution to Lorelie or a holla-back at her site. That’s not cool. Always give credit where credit is due, yo.

Till, then… Love, peace, and snarkage, my babies. Peace!

One thing I’ve noticed is that whenever there’s a question of distance between the hero and heroine, it’s always the gal who has to give up her apartment, and her job. What annoys me is that it usually turns out that the heroine wasn’t happy being an accountant/lawyer/doctor in the first place, and was just waiting for the right man to come along to rescue her from the drudgery of putting bad guys in jail, being able to afford Manolo Blahniks and healing the sick.

And Dear Author’s:

[Kresley] Cole takes very traditional tropes [i.e., the damsel in distress] and reverses them completely. For example, Cole’s books are female-centric with the female myths playing larger roles. Instead of the brotherhood or the male cadre of warriors, you ave a group of sword wielding, smart mouthed, head chopping Valkryries that like sparkly things, nail polish and video games or devious witches that are so beautiful they have to spell themselves to protect others from their personal glory.

Me, I prefer heroines who are smart, experienced, and has been leading a pretty good life even before she meets the hero. Which is why I really enjoy the female heroines of the novels written by P.C. Cast. To me, they are truly about the celebration of all the great things about being a female— sisterhood, being able to sit around with your friends and bare your soul without fearing you will be judged or castigated, and having a support system made up of mothers, sisters, and friends, whether they’re teachers from Oklahoma or actual goddesses from Mount Olympus.

Which brings me to my favorite heroine of all time: Shannon from Goddess by Mistake (re-released by Harlequin’s Luna line as Divine by Mistake). Shannon is a school-teacher in Oklahoma who has a family she loves, a job she grudgingly enjoys, and a (female) best friend she can count on. While indulging her hobby of antiquing, she is sucked into another universe where she is the Chosen of the Goddess Epona, the fiancee of an actual centaur, and the leader of the people living in a place called Partholon (who, btw, are initially distrusting of her because her mirror-image was an evil— okay, not evil, just blinded by power and totally unsuitable for the duties that came with being a Goddess Incarnate— witch named Rhiannon). I mean, we’re talking MAJOR life changes here, people! SHE IS ENGAGED TO A CREATURE THAT IS HALF-HORSE! But Shannon swoops in and takes care of everything like a champ. She gives feminist lessons to her simpering handmaiden, comes up with a plan to help save Partholon from these evil things called the Formorians, AND makes the gruff, yummy centaur fall in love with her. She doesn’t whine, she doesn’t cry— and though she has a few moments of self-doubt (who doesn’t), she shakes it all off and kicks ass. That’s my kind of heroine! And this is what I originally said about her:

[…] Shannon is a hilarious storyteller. She’s not preachy or boring, nor does she indulge in the always pathetic does-he-love-me-oh-my-gosh-I-don’t-deserve- him bullshit. I think it’s because Shannon is older than most of the female characters I read about (I was reading a whole bunch of Regencies), but I’ve also read about female characters who are supposed to be in their forties, but act like they’re twelve. Shannon complains about her saggy boobs, lack of toilet paper, and a good moisturizer, but she doesn’t get all weird and neurotic about it. In fact, her character kind of reminded me of Diane Lane in Under the Tuscan Sun. She is graceful, secure in her own feminine power, and most importantly, confident in her own intelligence and abilities.

And in PC Cast’s latest book, Warrior Rising, her very modern heroine falls in love with Achilles (yes, the very doomed Achilles of the Trojan War) and has to find a way to save him! But the most interesting aspect of this novel is the portrayal of the Goddesses Hera, Aphrodite, and Athena. For once, these women are NOT portrayed as bitches who are petty enough to cause the Trojan war (mythology has it that the Trojan war was sparked by a beauty competition between the three. The judge, Paris, picked Aphrodite as the prettiest— she had bribed him with Helen, the prettiest mortal ever). In fact, the three of them actually get together and plot to END the war. It was refreshing to read The Iliad as a light-hearted romance rather than the misogynistic, doom-gloom tragedy it really was. Good on ye, Ms. Cast!

Okay, enough gushing on my part, it’s just getting embarrassing now. Topic: Who is your favorite romance heroine and why? What are the elements that sets this heroine apart from the others out there? Talk amongst yourselves!

Romance Novel Heroes.

What makes a romance novel hero stand out for you? What makes you fall in love with him? What are your favorite qualities in romance novel heroes?

My favorite RNH of all time is Sebastian, the Marquess of Bonnington. He was not the “main” hero, per se… he was actually the B-plot, but he just really stood out for me. But he shows up in a handful of books by Eloisa James (Wild Pursuit, Duchess in Love, Your Wicked Ways) in pursuit of another secondary character, Esme. He starts out as a staid, stick-up-the-arse character who is always castigating Esme, a woman with a reputation for being wild. Slowly, he thaws out and begins seeing her as a woman… and he even loses his virginity to her! Once he falls in love with her, he is just so earnest and determined in his pursuit of her that Esme couldn’t help but just give in to him. *sigh*

Anyway, your favorite Romance Novel Hero. Talk amongst yourselves!