Sunday, August 24, 2014

John replaced the element in the oven and soldered a blown thingie in the circuit board, and so far the oven works. Fingers crossed that it will hold for a while.

Working on Bramble Burn today. It really helps to switch between stories to keep things fresh, so I'm alternating working on Rowen & Gold.

What is Bramble Burn? A daydream that's captured my imagination, so I decided it was book worthy.

It had been thirty years since the Convergence, when the dimensions aligned and combined Earth and the world of Gwyllon, known in human mythology as “Underhill”. Elven castles and random buildings sprouted in vacant lots, on major highways, sometimes merging with existing buildings, twisting into completely new structures; the courthouse had merged with an Elven government building. Roads and rail systems reformed, and after the rioting, starvation and death, agriculture finally sorted itself and food began to flow. A new government formed of elves and men had arisen, a society of human tech and elven magic. Cell phones and frost giants, race cars and elven steeds, dungeons and dragons…
And everywhere, monsters.

Juniper was twenty-three, a child of the new generation of small farmers. Her grandfather was Tylwyth Teg, an elf of the forest. Her father had been mostly normal, or pretended to be, but Juniper had her grandfather’s hunger for growing things. He’d tolerated her visiting his woods as long as he could, but there could be only one Forest Lord. He’d told her kindly but firmly to find her own Wood. She could not go back, or he’d kill her.
“Be sure to write, let me know how you’re doing,” he’d said, and meant it. After all, they were still family.

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Snippet: older than dirt

Mrs. Yuimen brushed him aside, her scanning the girl. She was the house cook and resident healer, and older than dirt. “Nothing broken,” she pronounced. “Hot polices and lavender oil for the bruises, willow, cayenne and ginger for the pain.” She left fetch the supplies.
Since he was clearly not needed, Sage joined Griffin to fill him in on the night’s activities. “We’ll need to send word to her family. I imagine the lads have caught the horse by now and taken him to the stables.”
“Do we know her name?” Jordan asked, glancing appreciatively at the fire that sprang up in the fireplace. She tucked the blankets around her patient.
Now that she was covered, Griffin peered at the woman with interest. “Isn’t that Mrs. James from next door? How did she get here?”
“We found her on our property being chased by hellhounds,” Sage answered, frowning thoughtfully. “I can only assume the house lowered the wall to let her in.”
Jordan raised her brows. “What are you up to, Hyani?” Once a fae, Hyani had suffered terribly when her family had killed her husband. Unable to bear the grief, she’d turned herself into a house so that she could still shelter her children. A romantic, she was known to arrange matches for family. Hyani seemed to feel her house needed a human matriarch and had gone to incredible lengths to pair Griffin and Jordan.
Jordan looked speculatively at the unconscious girl. “We’ll need to notify her family.”
“Of course. I’ll see to it,” Sage promised. “No doubt they’re worried by now. He nodded at the housekeeper as he strode to the door. “Mrs. Yuimen.”
The old one looked down her huge nose at him, her thick brows lowered over sharp black eyes. Hair like wet soot flopped over her brow, escaping from a black ribbon tied at her nape. She grunted dismissively, pushing a trolley laden with medical supplies toward the patient.
Sage hurried downstairs and called for a carriage. It wouldn’t do to arrive at the neighbors as an owl.

HGTV is infecting me.

HGTV is infecting me. We're thinking of saving up to buy a foreclosed house as a rental. We're getting to the age when smart investments and make sense, and with a down market, now is the time. We'll see.

 Meanwhile, I'm thinking of ways to make the yard even more beautiful. There's nothing like a pretty landscape to soothe the soul, and my roses are lovely.

Looking forward to finishing the bedroom floor in a couple of weeks. I want my house back in order.

The Self-Made Writer: One Author's Publishing Success: An Interview with...

The Self-Made Writer: One Author's Publishing Success: An Interview with...: Author Autumn Dawn, a former student from North Pole High School. Like many writers, I was a teacher first. Following a news article on...

Sunday, August 17, 2014

No casseroles were harmed in the accident.

The element in the oven blew out last night. There was the sound of sizzling electronics and smoke, and poof! The element burnt right through. The oven had been acting up prior to that, and that's when we should have ordered a new element. John found one on Amazon for $12, but it won't be here for days. Thankfully, we have crockpots, a turkey oven, waffle irons, microwaves and a plug in burner, so I think I'll manage :)

No casseroles were harmed in the accident. In fact, I may make tamale pie in the microwave from now on.

Working on Bramble Burn today, because I need some fun.

Thursday, August 14, 2014

God save me from teenagers.

September 2. Hang in there, moms; school is starting soon. We will throw a party and clink bottles. I'll be having hard cider. You?

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Snippet: Do we get to kill something?

“Who’s the girl? Do we get to kill something?” Lance, a thin purple youngster settled into a tree and surveyed the dead hounds with interest.
“Our guest,” Sage supplied, gesturing for Rook to collect her. “Gently now. Round up the horse for me, lads, and no, you can’t eat it. Feel free to dine on the hellhounds if you see them, though.”
“Don’t get excited; they don’t taste good,” Vic cautioned. He carefully picked up the girl and launched with a sweep of his wings, the owl escorting them.
The estate spread out before them, acres of woods surrounded by a high wall. It was interesting that Mrs. James hadn’t encountered a wall on her sojourn onto their land, but he suspected the house might have something to do with that. Much like a woman, the house had a mind of its own. Hardly surprising, as once it had been a woman. Perhaps she’d decided she’d like more company.
The graveled drive wound a quarter mile to the Gothic style house. He could see she’d added some interesting arches and a round tower; he could only speculate what that would look like on the inside. Recently he’d found his room had moved up an entire floor, though the house had thoughtfully added indoor plumbing and a private bath. He hadn’t minded the improvement.
He angled toward the balcony he shared with the guestroom next door; not that they had a surfeit of guests, but the house liked to stay busy and added the room last month. It made for an easy landing as Vicious swooped down and perched on the rail. Assuming his human form, Sage took the woman and carried her into the guest room as the house thoughtfully opened the French doors for him. “See if Jordan is available,” he advised the gargoyle. “She’ll be very helpful here.”
Though it was night, his owl’s vision could see that the room was done in blue and yellow, with comfortable leather furniture piled with pillows. He crossed the hardwood floor, his feet muffled by the large floral patterned rug. A practical man, he felt little compunction about stripping his guest down to her chemise before laying her on the sheets.
The house thoughtfully turned up the gaslights as he searched for injuries, using the sheet to preserve her modesty. She had a curvy figure, generously padded in all the best places, and Irish features. Her dark red hair was still bound and pinned, and he wondered if it hurt. Just in case, he slipped the pins free.
She’d darkened her brows and her lips were a pretty burgundy, and she wore a light dust of powder that failed to hide a faint dust of freckles on her cute nose. He tried to remain unruffled as he examined a nasty bruise on her side, wondering if she’d managed to crack some ribs.
“Really, Sage,” a woman chided. Jordan, the matriarch of his clan, swept into the room, followed by her husband Griffin and Mrs. Yuimen. Jordan had upswept black hair and blue eyes, and she was very, very pregnant.
Griffin hovered over her, his hand on the back of her blue maternity gown. His hair was golden brown and ruffled, his nose hooked and chin slightly pointed. His honey brown eyes were alert, gauging the situation for threat to his family.
“She’s been injured,” Sage said coolly. “See for yourself.”