Tag Archives: fiction

Drowned History Notes and Rogue News

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I haven’t had any crochet to post for a little while because I’ve been so busy working on the final formatting for Drowned History. It’s still going to be coming out next Tuesday as planned, but some of the formatting for the print version was a little wonky and I’m still waiting on my proof. I had hoped to do a preorder but that doesn’t seem likely at this point so I’ll just keep in mind the timeline for the next one.

Speaking of the next one, I’m planning on releasing my book Only a Rogue Knows this summer! It was originally part of the Every Rogue’s Heart box set but I’m now allowed to sell it on its own, and I’m very excited. I’m planning on expanding some parts of it that I would have liked to write before and there will be a fantastic new cover, so even if you bought the box set there will be plenty for you to enjoy in the expanded version. I’m working on the new bits right now, and will send it to editing right away so I can get it formatted sooner than this one.

I suppose these little hiccups are all part of learning the ropes of being an indie author. Self-publishing offers an amazing amount of creative control, but it also comes with a bit of a learning curve. Hopefully I’ve done Drowned History justice and everything will go more smoothly next time. Eventually I’d like to buy a bundle of ISBN numbers and really print them under Frozen Flame Press, but that’s way out of my skillset for the moment. For now, I’m happy to let Createspace take care of all that while I work on increasing my skills.

Getting back to next week’s release, here’s a bit of important information: Drowned History will be released Tuesday, March 13th and will be $0.99 for the first two weeks, then go up to $2.99 after that. The paperback price will be $10.99, and I’ll be selling signed copies for the same price plus shipping. If you’d like me to reserve one for you, send me an email at beccalovebooks@gmail.com and I’ll get one out to you!

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Presenting…Drowned History!

I was getting a little panicked because I wasn’t exactly done with the first book in the vampire series, which I was hoping to release in March. But never fear! I will have a book out in March and it’s one that’s very close to my heart.

Drowned History is the story of four people who get drawn into a search for a mysterious artifact buried in India in the fall of 1940. They quickly discover that some things are not what they appear, and the past comes back to haunt two of them. A lost love binds them together, but their trip into the far past may well tear them apart.

The release date for Drowned History is March 13, and I’ll open pre-orders at the end of February. There will be both print and e-book copies and I plan to have them available at every retailer. I’m so excited!

 

It’s Camping Time!

CNW_ParticipantI am super excited to tell you that I am participating in Camp NaNoWriMo this year! I had so much fun last year in November that I thought this would be a great opportunity for me to get a project finished that I can’t get out of my head.

You can set your own word goal for Camp so I went with a nice 20,000 word goal, thinking that the project I’m working on would be about 30-40,000 words, and I already had about 15,000 written. Unfortunately (or fortunately!) this project looks like it’s going to be a full-length novel so I bumped up my goal to a slightly more ambitious 30,000 words.

Once again, I’m having a ton of fun. I’ve met new people and participated in the first night of the NaNoHouseCup, representing Ravenclaw of course! The project is coming along nicely – I’m at 10% of my goal already – and hopefully I’ll have it finished by the end of April so I can focus on finishing the pirate project that I am woefully behind on.

I’ll keep you updated on both projects as I write them and maybe have a little bit of an excerpt in the coming weeks. For now, I’m heading back to the word mines to see if I can get a little more writing in!

Retainer

The first thought that went through his head when Taylor walked through the door of his lawyer’s office was that he knew where his money was going. He’d never seen a koi pond indoors before but there it was behind the desk, black marble and just deep enough for a couple of fish that were, oddly enough, nowhere to be seen.

His aunt had kept fish and her house had always hummed with filters and aerators. It had been a calming sound for him, but there were no sounds coming from the aquariums around the walls of the office. It didn’t matter. He was already calm.

He was alone in the room, left there by an anxious young man that had introduced himself as Ms. Dayton’s personal assistant. That had surprised Taylor; he had been expecting a paralegal. The assistant seemed to be hovering on the edge of telling him not to touch anything but for twelve hundred dollars an hour he was going to touch whatever he damn well pleased.

A gang of tiny, colorful fish flitted into their plants when he approached the tank and he pressed a finger to the glass, daring them to come out and savoring the power he held over them.

“Don’t touch that.”

Taylor turned around, expecting another assistant, and found himself face to face with a woman whose every motion felt as if she was carving herself out of ice. He took his hand away from the tank and the assistant hurried forward to wipe his fingerprint off the tank. The woman came over to him and looked him up and down.

“Natasha Dayton,” she said, extending a hand. “Your credit card says I’m your attorney now, so let’s get down to business.”

“Nice to meet you,” Taylor said, shaking her hand. “I’m—“

“I know who you are,” Tasha interrupted. “I watch the news, and unfortunately so does most of America. If they don’t watch the news, they read blogs. Everyone knows who you are and what you did, so let’s dispense with the dance and discuss how I’m going to make sure you keep sleeping in your own bed.” As she passed the tanks, the fish came out of hiding and followed her to the edge of their small, shifting worlds until they had nowhere else to go.

“Are those real plants?”

“Of course they are,” Tasha sighed. “They help keep the water clean. We aren’t here to talk about my fish tanks. We’re here to create a plan of action.” She sat down behind her desk and pulled out a piece of paper. “First things first, tell me your version of the truth.”

“I killed the guy,” Taylor said with a shrug. “I watched his house for years, I waited long enough so that no one would immediately connect me to his death, and then I slit his throat while he was watching trash TV. What else do you want to know?”

“At least you’re honest,” she said, shoving the paper away from her. “Try not to be that honest with the judge. We’re going for a winning verdict here. A dismissal, to tell the truth. It may not be pretty but I think we can get you off with most of your career intact.”

“I don’t care about my career,” Taylor said. There was a fountain pen in a wooden holder on the side of the desk closest to him and he focused on it for a moment until the thumping in his ears subsided. Blood. Just like Kinsey’s. “I’ve got plenty of money, I don’t need to work.”

“Well I care about mine.” Tasha shook her head. “How much dirt are you willing to let me dig up? Are you a big fan of morality or are you all right with my making witnesses cry? I hear one of them has cancer and the other is mentally ill.”

“You know,” Taylor said with a grin, “I think I’ve definitely picked the right lawyer.”

Knock

The sound was so soft that he almost didn’t hear it over the television. It was a scratching, scuffing sound that made Tom think of knocking the mud off his shoes when he came in through the back door. It could have been anything and he wasn’t the sort of man to jump at strange sounds so he settled deeper into his chair.

He was dozing, wrapped in the sort of warmth that came from security and nearly good health, and was almost asleep when he heard the sound again. The same scuffing, just underneath a green and fragrant crackling that he knew was coming from the side of the house.

“Dammit, Lee,” he muttered under his breath. He was sick of his neighbor letting that damn dog nose through his bushes. It always preceded a massive bowel movement and left both his bushes and backyard in a sorrier state than before the dog arrived, and Lee refused to do anything to stop it. Tom had spent the better part of a year trying to figure out the best way to confront his neighbor but he didn’t have the stomach for conflict anymore.

The sounds stopped abruptly and he let his eyelids droop again. It wasn’t worth it. He’d take the scooper out the next morning and get rid of the evidence so he could spend another day pretending it wouldn’t happen again. He’d give just about anything not to have to deal with it anymore.

“And now to our red carpet coverage,” the host of the celebrity news show said amidst an exciting sting of music that forced Tom’s eyes open. “Kima Carpenter is wearing a daring dress by one of the newest, hottest young designers, and doesn’t she look fantastic in it?”

“You can say that again,” his co-host said in a bubbly blonde tone. “Not many people can pull off those sorts of patterns but Kima sure does. Wow.” Tom reached for the remote control. He had zero interest in what the next big thing was wearing, and not just because he didn’t represent her. It had no bearing on whether or not he wanted them in his stable, and if he was being honest he preferred potential clients to come in dressed as simply as possible.

“Now here’s a good looking couple,” the host said. “Alyssa Duvall and Taylor Kyle, who still won’t tell whether or not they’re a real couple or just a pair of friends who like to keep us guessing. They’re both wearing Versace, making us wonder whether they do their shopping – and anything else – together.”

“I hope not,” Tom muttered. Taylor Kyle’s style left plenty to be desired as far as he was concerned, and always had. Bright colors were one thing, especially now that everyone was wearing them, but the man had some sort bizarre attraction to patterns and it seemed like fashion was determined to accommodate him.o The tuxedo jacket he was wearing had lapels of shocking red paisley and Tom groaned. “Thank God I dropped you when I did,” he said, turning the channel.

To his dismay, Taylor Kyle was on that channel as well. There was something about his smile, something too-wide and deep-rolling to express that gave Tom the shivers. He was handsome, no two ways about it, but there was something else there that he just didn’t like.

At first he thought the knocking he heard was at the front door, but it was too close. It almost sounded like it was coming from the kitchen, then the hall. It was soft and traveling, and by the time he figured out that it wasn’t knocking but the snaps of shiny, shiny shoes on his hardwood floor the knife was already at his throat.

Scales

Her breath came in waves that rocked her body in the water, making subtle ripples that disappeared as quickly as they formed. The room hummed around her but her ears were underwater so all she heard was her own breathing and the occasional movement of the water.

Her body was air-light and colorless when she was in the pool, her arms outstretched as if to touch the edges of the marble that surrounded it. Her eyes were closed but she knew they were there, could feel the fingers of chill that reached for her in the hopes of stealing some of her warmth for themselves. Marble collected sunlight but there was none here, in this dimness. Its only hope was the woman floating in the center of the shallow pool and she wasn’t about to let it get its way.

The water was cool, not cold, because she demanded it. There were heaters but she rarely turned them on, preferring water that was closer to room temperature so it wasn’t a shock when she got out. She opened her eyes for just a moment and raised her arm so she could look at it, a pale reach in the semi-darkness. Water ran down from fingers that were somehow not wrinkled in spite of the fact that she’d been in the pool at least twenty minutes. She submerged her arm again, not liking the feeling of the air on her skin. There would be plenty of time to deal with that particular sensation.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to swim in there.”

The voice that echoed through the room broke the silence and Tasha sat up, her hair streaming noisily into the pool while her bottom brushed its edge. A swirl of anger rose, then fell in her chest. This was supposed to be her time. No one was supposed to know about her time.

“Why are you naked?”

“Because I can be,” Tasha said, hoping he heard the frost in her voice. It was meant to cover the fact that her heart was racing more than anything, and she dropped the temperature another few degrees. “I was under the impression that I’d locked the door.”

“This is important,” her assistant said as she stepped out of the pool and walked around to her desk. The walls of her office were lined with spectacularly sized aquariums, and their whispered hums were barely louder than when she’d been in the pool. As she passed, the fish gathered around to watch, flitting back to their hiding places when her assistant followed. Just like everything else in the office, they were immaculate. They weren’t part of the décor, they were the décor. Between the aquariums and the marble pool, more than half of Tasha’s office was comprised of water. “Noonan called. They want to delay the hearing until next week. One of their witnesses is sick.”

“Why is that my problem?” Tasha picked up a towel that almost matched the mahogany wood of her desk and began to dry herself off. She doubted that anyone would have seen it if they hadn’t known where to look. That was good.

“I told him I’d talk to you about it,” her assistant said, trying not to look at her naked body. That was good too. Let him be uncomfortable. He was the one who had walked in uninvited. “She has cancer and the chemo is making it hard for her to get around.”

“I’ll send her a card,” Tasha said, putting on her panties. “But my client is not going to sit in jail one day longer than necessary. Tell him it’s out of the question.” Her assistant looked like he wanted to say something else, but nodded at her. Tasha could feel the sigh he was holding back and almost dared him to release it.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Her assistant turned to go, then paused and frowned. “What happened to the koi?” She didn’t answer him, instead pulling her silk shell over her head. He waited for a moment longer, then left. It may have been the first time he walked in on her in the pool but it wasn’t his first day on the job. Tasha gave the pool a wistful glance, then finished dressing, stepped into her shoes and sat at her desk. Out of the question.

Gaslight

The back door wasn’t locked, so Kara let herself in without a moment’s hesitation. It
was late, far past dark, but she was expected. The night and flickering porch light gave her ample cover should anyone happen to see her, and if they did they would and wouldn’t recognize her. She locked the door behind her, though. This was no one’s business but her own.

Kara walked through the kitchen, admiring the brushed stainless steel appliances and the shine on the toaster that allowed her to see every line on her face and every gray hair that she combed her hair carefully to hide. She passed through the dining room with its perfectly centered tablecloth and then through the living room to the stairs. Everything was neat and ordered, and she was slipping into it all like putting on a beloved pair of jeans.

She unbuttoned her own jeans as she thought this, stepping first out of her flats so she could pull them off and drop them in the hall. Her jacket came next as she walked, and she left a trail of her clothes behind her. The clip in her hair was cast off as well, sending a sheet of straight blonde hair down her back.

Empty spaces along the hallway where pictures had obviously once hung made her uneasy. It was completely at odds with the front part of the house and the two halves clashed magnificently, something Kara had been expecting from the moment she pulled up in the alleyway of the house.

They were out of town, the people in the missing photos. She knew this. It was the reason she had come tonight and brought her own camera, and a set of frames in the back seat of the rental car. She paused to look at one of the bare spaces as if trying to come up with their measurements just by looking, then unhooked her bra and dropped it onto the floor.

By the time she reached the bedroom she was completely naked and it seemed right to be standing in the most private of places, a blank slate to be filled with drawings and laughter by a woman who looked as if she hadn’t so much as cracked a smile in years.

The bathroom door was shut and her heart began to pound in her throat as she closed her fingers around the knob, wondering if it would be locked. If it was she had come for nothing, leaving her old skin behind her in the hallway and allowing the faintest ghost of hope to spark in her chest. It would be unlocked, though, just like the front door. The pictureless walls told her that for sure.

Kara turned the knob and pushed the door open, her entire body relaxing as she stepped through the door. The bathroom was steamy, and she didn’t know if it was due to the lack of a fan or the fact it hadn’t been turned on. She would find out, though. There would be plenty of time to find out.

She stopped at the side of the bathtub and looked down at the woman who was almost submerged in the water. Long blonde hair floated around her face in a halo that moved as she breathed. Her breaths were slow and deep and for a moment Kara thought she might be asleep. A moment later she was standing up, water streaming off a body that was pink from the heat.

“It’s my turn,” Kara said as she looked into the same bright blue eyes she had seen in the mirror that morning. The woman smiled and held her hand out for a towel, which Kara provided. “Where are they?”

“Away. It’ll be morning before they’re back.” She dried herself off and wrung out her hair. “They won’t notice a thing.”

“Sure they will,” Kara said. “But isn’t that the point?”