Just Coz We're Aussie, Doesn't Mean We Can't Understand Each Other

As usual, my extreme un-organization (is that even a word? well, it is now) has left me sitting here racking my brain, trying to come up with something to post about today. I nearly forgot I was meant to be here, so you're all lucky I even turned up.

When I was preparing today's guest post to go up on my own blog (check out my interview with HC Brown on the tour loop), I found myself slipping into Aussie slang, as I sometimes do on my blog. More than once I've sent an email to someone in America and gotten a confused reply, or had a person comment on my blog asking me what on earth I'm talking about.

So instead of talking about my Timeless Desire novella, Savior, I've decided to share some Aussie-ism with you all. Because surely we're not talking a totally different language…?

So to start off, here's some basic facts. Downunder, we call our kids ankle biters. Do they actually bite our ankles? Maybe sometimes yes. Still, most children 'round these parts are pretty harmless, so don't think if you come to Australia you'll be set on my a bunch of toddlers determined to chew your boots off.

We don't have prom or homecoming. No, we have a B&S ball. Now, this might sound all nice and civilized. And you might see young men and women dressed up in after five formal wear. But the mode of transport to arrive will be a beat-up Ute (or pickup truck, I believe they're called in America), the venue will be a shearing shed (large shed where sheep have their wool shorn off) decked out with a few balloons and streamers, and the drink of choice is beer, beer, or more beer. By the end of the night, many couples will end up naked and/or passed out in the back of the aforementioned Ute.

In Australia, when we call you a bastard, we don't mean it as an insult, it's actually a term of endearment. If we ask you about bathers, we're talking about a swim-suit and if we talk about the big smoke, we don't mean a giant cigar, we mean a city like Melbourne or Sydney.

When we go for a leisurely drive in a national park, its called a bush bash, usually out in whoop whoop (the middle of nowhere). To do this we might have chucked a sickie — called in sick to work even though we're perfectly healthy. In fact, chucking a sickie has become a national institution. Often this will be done the day after a big night out, when one has rocked up (arrived) to a party that was going off (in full swing, everyone having a good time). If you're a two pot screamer, then it doesn't take much to get you drunk. You could drink a stubbie of beer, and any other alcohol is called grog or piss. Once you've had a couple, then you're off your face. If you're not careful, you might come a gutser (have an accident) or get picked up in the divvy van (police car). If you do, your mates will help you out by singing "you're going home in the back of a divvy van." Accompanied by clapping.

Want some insults? Easy, we've got all kinds:

Bludger - someone who is lazy. You might also hear of a dole bludger, a person who has no job and lives of government payments. These people also often fall into the category of bogans. They wear ugg boots (slippers) out in public with trackie-daks (a tracksuit) and spend the money they do get on their souped-up cars (usually a Holden Commodore with extra accessories added.), which they refer to as fully sick (really cool). In their cars, we call them hoons and you can find them outside Maccas (McDonalds) at 2am doing doughnuts and illegal drag racing.

Drongo - someone lacking intelligence.

No hoper - someone not likely to get very far in life

Ratbag - someone constantly up to no good.

Dropkick - someone not very smart, always getting into trouble and not likely to get far in life.

And just for your references, you also may need to know the following:

Rack-off - you're being asked to leave.

Hoo roo - we're telling you goodbye. If you don't go, we might get into a blue (argument) and you'll get an earbashing (yelled at).

Cactus - dead, as in, "she's cactus."

Cark it - to die as in, "she carked it and now she's cactus."

Ropeable - very angry. May also be referred to as spewin'.  

Shonky - something not reliable.

…after reviewing the above, I've come to the conclusion that maybe we are talking a different language. Now I've finished this post, I'm off to veg out (relax). Hope my Aussie-ism come in handy next time you can't understand what the heck an Australian person is talking about!

 Cadmiel, the Angel of Destiny, knows better than anyone what a bitch fate can be. Five hundred years ago, the only woman he ever loved was killed, shredding his soul and leaving a void in place of his heart. Now Archangel Michael comes to him with a shocking and forbidden proposal. He wants Cadmiel to travel back in time and save Emilyn. Though Cadmiel wishes beyond all reasoning to do as the archangel asks, messing with time goes against his own beliefs and the very foundations of angel lore. But Michael doesn't give Cadmiel a choice and thrusts him through time and space, back to 2012.
The first time Emilyn saw the gorgeous man, she was affected on a level she couldn't comprehend. Cadmiel isn't like any other guy she's ever met, and he makes her wish love at first sight were true. But there are forces at work she never dreamed real. In the space of a day, she goes from normal, every-day college student, to a pawn in an apocalyptic war between angels and demons.
Emilyn's very life is in Cadmiel's hands. Will he risk the future of the entire universe to save her, or let her die and destroy himself in the process?

Find me:

www.jessanastasi.blogspot.com

www.jessanastasi.com

Facebook:  http://www.facebook.com/pages/Jess-Anastasi/129441077081452

Twitter: @JessAnastasi

A Research Heavy Novella by Lucy Felthouse

My Timeless Desire novella, Love Through Time was a first for me in a couple of ways. One, it's my first novella. I started out writing short stories and am building up to longer pieces, and this was my first. Two, the tale turned out to be quite research heavy. As a contemporary short story writer, I don't have to do much research at all for my stories. Love Through Time, however, was determined to be different.

My novella is a veritable smorgasbord (I've always wanted to use that word) of genres. It's a contemporary, historical, paranormal, erotic romance. If you're wondering how it can be contemporary and historical, perhaps I should explain. There are historical elements to the piece, with references back to the past, which is where much, but not all, of my research came in.

The main character in the story, Emily, is a book conservator. This is where some of my research came in. I needed to know enough about what book conservators to do to clean and protect books to talk convincingly about it in my book. After Google didn't come up with much of help, I turned to Twitter, and also sent an email off to The National Trust (a charity in the UK that looks after stately homes, historical sites, archives, etc). Luckily for me, the answers that I needed came through pretty quickly and I was able to continue writing.

Another element of my research was to do with the historical elements of the piece. Without giving too much away, World War II is mentioned – so I had to do some fact checking before I mentioned certain events. Also, I needed information on photography, i.e. what sort of photographs were taken and when, and when colour photography was introduced in the UK. Google, Wikipedia and Twitter again helped me out here. What would we do without them?

Add in the visits I make to country houses for pleasure (Love Through Time is set in a country house) and you have yourself quite a lot of research there. But I enjoyed every minute of it, and I hope that the resulting story gives as much enjoyment to readers as it did to this writer.

*****

Westbury Manor is a stately home with a fascinating past, and when book conservator Emily Stone starts uncovering it, she's startled by what she finds . . . .

Emily arrives at Westbury Manor with a job to do. She's to clean and conserve all of the books in their impressive library, preserving them for future generations. Not long into her stay at the house, she bumps into the night guard, George. She'd expected an old, balding guy with a comb over, so the hunky chap she actually meets is a very pleasant surprise. The introductions complete, George leaves Emily in peace to get on with her job. But when a falling photograph sets off a chain reaction of ghostly events, Emily and George are thrown together in order to find out who—or what—is causing them. Their investigation uncovers a tragic past, a lost love, and a stunning secret.

Excerpt:

Emily received some strange looks and frowns from the people she passed as she walked across the graveled drive toward the front entrance of Westbury Hall. She could appreciate their confusion. It was closing time for the stately home, and the last of the visitors were being politely ushered out of the building, yet she was heading inside. She'd been invited. She had a job to do.

An elderly lady stood in the porch, smiling and nodding as she held the door open for those departing the hall. Most of them seemed in no hurry to leave, stopping to make comments to the woman at the door, thanking her for a lovely visit and so on. Emily waited patiently to the side, allowing the patrons to leave before attempting to enter. When the staff member—most likely a volunteer, Emily thought—caught sight of her, she gave her a polite nod of acknowledgment.

Finally, the last of Westbury Hall's visitors moved out, leaving Emily free to enter. Climbing the single, stone step to the threshold, she took the hand already offered her.

Shaking Emily's hand with a surprising firmness, the woman said, "You must be Miss Stone." Her smart appearance and the intelligence in her eyes indicated that despite her age, she was far from past it. "I'm Mrs. Thompson, house supervisor."

"I am," Emily replied, dropping her hand back to her side, "but please, call me Emily. It's lovely to meet you. So, house supervisor? Do you live on site?"

Indicating Emily should step inside the entrance hall, Mrs. Thompson proceeded to close and lock the porch and front doors of the house, securing them in.

"I do," the older woman said, turning back to face Emily, "I have rooms in a separate building just off the back of this one. So you needn't worry about me disturbing you."

"Oh no," Emily said, worried she'd inadvertently rubbed Mrs. Thompson the wrong way. "I didn't mean that. I was just curious. You're more than welcome to see me at work, Mrs. Thompson; although, I'm afraid you won't see anything terribly exciting."

Mrs. Thompson smiled now, the warmth reaching her eyes. Emily sighed silently with relief. She'd yet to see the extent of the work she had to do, but she'd been told it was no easy task, so she could be here for some time. The last thing she needed was to upset any of the staff.

"Oh, you'd be surprised, my dear. This is a fascinating old place. Of course, all these old houses have history, but Westbury Hall's is particularly rich."

Emily smiled. The woman's enthusiasm was infectious. "Well then," she replied, "I can't wait to learn more about it. I hope you'll feed me full of historical tidbits while I'm here?"

Mrs. Thompson gave an enigmatic smile. Then, startling Emily somewhat, she turned smartly on her heel and walked deeper into the house. "Come, my dear, I won't hold you up any longer. I'll show you to the library, where you'll soon start uncovering Westbury's illustrious history for yourself."

Buy link: http://www.nobleromance.com/Books/348

*****

Lucy is a graduate of the University of Derby, where she studied Creative Writing. During her first year, she was dared to write an erotic story - so she did. It went down a storm and she's never looked back. Lucy has had stories published by Cleis Press, Noble Romance, Ravenous Romance, Summerhouse Publishing, Sweetmeats Press and Xcite Books. She is also the editor of Uniform Behaviour and Seducing the Myth. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. You can also find her on Facebook and Twitter.

Where's this story going?

Not many people realize it, but I don’t unilaterally fall in love with my stories. Don’t believe me? My hard drive is riddled with fragments and false starts that have never seen daylight, simply because they weren’t up to my standards or something was inherently wrong with them.

Take, as a case in point, “Ancient Magic.” I started this story back in June, with pure intentions and what I thought was a good idea. The problem was — it involved vampires.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with vampires. Check out my backlist, both here at Noble and elsewhere, and you’ll see vampires are a big part of my writing. But that was part of the problem: I’ve already got an established vampire mythos I use. (No, they don’t sparkle.) To create a vampire who would work within the framework of the world I was in the process of constructing, I would have had to go back to the drawing board, so to speak. Besides, I’d already done vampires for the Red Roses and Shattered Glass anthology, so I wanted to try something unique. 

So what did that leave?

Angels? Nope. As much as I love them and exploring their erotic potential, I’ve already got plenty of those in my backlist, thanks just the same. Werewolves? Heh. I’m holding off on doing any more of those until I see how “Dancing On Flames” performs. Ghosts? Been there, done that, also in the Red Roses and Shattered Glass anthology.

I winced, cursed, swore, damned my absolute stupidity, questioned whether or not I was worth my keyboard, poked, prodded, and generally freaked out. Every combination I could come up with that seemed to fit with the “Timeless Desire” theme opened up whole new vistas of suckitude, and for the first time in my professional writing career I started to seriously consider the idea I might not be as immune to  writers’ block as I’d like to believe. For me, this simple statement is an admission tantamount to a deathbed conversion.

Then the answer occurred to me. So simple and laughably obvious that I’d managed to completely ignore it.

Why not make the main characters human?

*Gasp.*

Sure, in most of my stories, there’s a human or quasi-human protagonist. But they almost invariably have some special talent or capability that removes them from the average press of humanity. In the case of “Ancient Magic,” I decided to go a different route and make my characters fully human, devoid of special or unique talents. No telepathy, no fangs, no magic. Just two people who were intended to be something more than what fate made them, but nevertheless capable of amazing but not supernatural deeds.

In fact, the only things I kept from the original three and a half thousand words of what started as “Night Eternal” were the setting and Varath’s name. The setting was inspired by the image of a ruined Greek temple; antiquity has always fascinated me, so Hell or high water, that element of the story wasn’t to be touched. Varath had a perfectly good name, so why waste time seeking something better? 

While I was having my mental slugfest with my muse over the whys and wherefores of the story, my time to finish the story was inexorably running out. The contract had already been inked; the clock was ticking, and lost in the fog of battle with my recalcitrant plot, I didn’t notice until an email arrived in my inbox.

“When are you going to have the story done?”

Sometimes, you just need a good, sharp poke with a long stick. So I sat down and started to work. In two days, “Ancient Magic” was completed. I fired it off and anticipated a scathing email which boiled down to “WTF do you think you’re trying to pull?” 

You’d think I would’ve known better; after all, Bryl hasn’t kicked back one single story I’ve subbed for Noble yet, so it would stand to reason after five accepted submissions it probably wouldn’t happen now either. But the first few days after I put in a submission are always characterized with a slightly panicky air of “Oh, shit. This is where everyone’s finally going to realize I’m a living monument to ineptitude and shouldn’t be permitted anywhere near the company of real authors.”

It’s admittedly a little melodramatic, but it’s part of my mojo. The stress over whether or not my work will be judged worthy inspires me to work all the harder, and some of my best writing has come out of post-submission jitters. And frankly, I fear the day when I don’t get that gut-clenching shrieking fear when I send out a manuscript, because that will be the day I lose my edge altogether.

Did I succeed with “Ancient Magic?”

You tell me.

Until next time,

Best,

J.S. Wayne

Don’t forget to leave a comment for your chance to win some great prizes, and then click the Special Blogs button to continue on the “Timeless Desire” blog tour!

The Timeless Desire Collection

Noble Romance's new Timeless Desire collection turns up the heat with a selection of fantastic new titles for every taste. Here's a quick look at what this exciting new line has to offer.

A DANCE WITH BOGIE AND BACALL
by KevaD (sensual romance, ghosts, spirits)

Radio DJ Scott Kincaid's first caller of the night is a lady who died forty-nine years ago. The second wants to knock his head off. And he thought falling in love would be easy.

Maureen and Frank Johnson shared the kind of romance most people believe only exists in movies. Until a ballroom fire took Maureen's life.

Franci Johnson grew up hearing her grandparents' love story a thousand times and wishes to find the kind of undying love Frank and Maureen had once upon a time.

DJ Scott Kincaid just wants the ghost following him to go away. But Maureen thinks the hunky DJ might be just the answer to her granddaughter's dreams.

A DANCE WITH BOGIE AND BACALL: BUY LINK & EXCERPT

A MINUTE AFTER MIDNIGHT
Brita Addams (erotic romance, LGBT, m/m, same sex romance)

A fateful decision haunted Logan Chalmers for years. A high school reunion brings Reid Wright back to the old hometown, but will Reid even remember Logan or has he moved on to the bright future they were to share?

Following the rejection of the man he'd loved for most of his life, Reid moved away to seek his fortune. The hurt and anger allowed him to move on, but years later, only thoughts of Logan could bring him back for the reunion – that, and timeless desire.

A MINUTE AFTER MIDNIGHT: BUY LINK & EXCERPT

AN EVENING AT THE STARLIGHT
Brita Addams (sensual romance, second chances)

John has a hard time forgiving and forgetting, and his wife Christie's tired of trying.

Doe and Royal's love story reaches through the years and gives hope to a young man who's lost hope in his relationship. An Evening at the Starlight and a tale of a once in a lifetime love that wouldn't die might be exactly what John needs to move past the hurt and cherish the love he has.

AN EVENING AT THE STARLIGHT: BUY LINK & EXCERPT

ANCIENT MAGIC
J.S. Wayne (erotic romance, magic)

More than two decades have passed since the Hodans invaded the peaceful kingdom of Jurav. In their zeal for conquest, they have mercilessly rent the Juravian national character asunder, starting with the temples of their gods.

Varath's uncle raised him to one day assume his father's mantle—command warden of the Temple of Noradi, the most beloved goddess of the Juravian pantheon and the deity of heart, hearth, and the fires which burn in both.

Melody would have been High Priestess to Noradi, and her own family has groomed her with equal care against the day when the Hodan hordes will be expelled and she can assume her rightful place as the most powerful figure in the entire nation . . . and as Varath's bride.

When Varath departed to serve in the Hodan army, Melody saw it as an unconscionable betrayal. Now Varath has returned to take his father's place as the sole guardian of a temple where no one dares enter, and he has made overtures to claim the other half of his bequest: Melody herself. But can Melody see past the deceptions and lies his rebellion has forced and learn to love the man who seems to have turned his back on his own people?

ANCIENT MAGIC: BUY LINK & EXCERPT

DESIRE DAMNED
KevaD (erotic romance, m/m, military, same sex romance)

Satan wants the warrior Taka to bow before him. But Taka bows to no one except his gentle lover Har.

For thousands of years the two men have been doomed to a life of torment. While one walks the earth, the other suffers under the devil's lash. Their only respite is an occasional night; a random, beautiful, love-filled night, knowing that with the dawn one of them must die in battle and return to Satan's wrath.

On the war-torn fields of Gettysburg, the two lovers are reunited once again. But this time something beyond Hell's reach has happened. Something so wondrous, Satan may finally get his wish.

DESIRE DAMNED: BUY LINK & EXCERPT

FAMILIAR LIGHT
Sarah Ballance (sensual romance, second chances, thriller)

Seven years of longing comes down to just one night.

Laney Kent returns to Barrier Shoals hoping to reunite with her first love, Bridger. She anticipates his reception might be chilly, but what she doesn't expect is to become the victim of a deadly obsession … or that this night with Bridger could be her last.

Bridger Jansen tangled a lot of sheets trying to forget about Laney, but his heart knew what the rest of him refused to admit: he could love no one else. He's determined not to forgive her for leaving him without explanation, but when he fails to protect her from a viscous attack, the person he can't forgive just might be himself.

FAMILIAR LIGHT: BUY LINK & EXCERPT

IMMORTAL
Bryl R. Tyne (erotic romance, LGBT, m/m, same sex relationships)

Found abandoned as a child and taken in by the Nevsky clan, the man Ivis now feels the call of the water, the sea, but Sefton and his family, one of the most influential vampire bloodlines in Russia, isn't about to let Ivis go. As Ivis' powers grow stronger—powers unknown to him—Sefton's instructed to detain Ivis at all costs to tilt in his clan's favor the balance of power in an endless struggle between the Bogdanov water gods and Nevsky vampires. Sefton's left with a choice: power or love. Which is the greater desire?

IMMORTAL: BUY LINK & EXCERPT

LOVE THROUGH TIME
Lucy Felthouse (erotic romance, ghosts, spirits)

Westbury Manor is a stately home with a fascinating past, and when book conservator Emily Stone starts uncovering it, she's startled by what she finds . . . .

Emily arrives at Westbury Manor with a job to do. She's to clean and conserve all of the books in their impressive library, preserving them for future generations. Not long into her stay at the house, she bumps into the night guard, George. She'd expected an old, balding guy with a comb over, so the hunky chap she actually meets is a very pleasant surprise. The introductions complete, George leaves Emily in peace to get on with her job. But when a falling photograph sets off a chain reaction of ghostly events, Emily and George are thrown together in order to find out who—or what—is causing them. Their investigation uncovers a tragic past, a lost love, and a stunning secret.

LOVE THROUGH TIME: BUY LINK & EXCERPT

SAVIOR
Jess Anastasi (sensual romance, angels/demons)

Cadmiel, the Angel of Destiny, knows better than anyone does what a bitch fate can be. Five hundred years ago, the only woman he ever loved was killed, shredding his soul and leaving a void in place of his heart. Now Archangel Michael comes to him with a shocking and forbidden proposal. He wants Cadmiel to travel back in time and save Emilyn. Though Cadmiel wishes beyond all reasoning to do as the archangel asks, messing with time goes against his own beliefs and the very foundations of angel lore. But Michael doesn't give Cadmiel a choice and thrusts him through time and space, back to 2012.

The first time Emilyn saw the gorgeous man, she was affected on a level she couldn't comprehend. Cadmiel isn't like any other guy she's ever met, and he makes her wish love at first sight were true. But there are forces at work she never dreamed real. In the space of a day, she goes from normal, every-day college student, to a pawn in an apocalyptic war between angels and demons.

Emilyn's very life is in Cadmiel's hands. Will he risk the future of the entire universe to save her, or let her die and destroy himself in the process?

SAVIOR: BUY LINK & EXCERPT

TIME TO LIVE
H.C. Brown (erotic romance, BDSM, m/m, same sex relationships)

Seth Bannock is living a lie. Nothing in his life is working out. He likes women . . . he respects women . . . but when he tries to kiss a woman and she does that tongue thing, he wants to spew.

Confused by his body's reaction to the men at his gym, Seth seeks help from the only gay club he knows—Floggers. Is the man crazy? Seeking answers, the sweet, vanilla virgin marches into the BDSM club to speak to the owner Rio Knight.

Realization that he has been on the wrong team all his life comes in the form of a six-foot-seven Adonis by the name of Matt Duffey. Instantly attracted to the leather-clad alpha male, Seth must leave his old life behind and embrace his newfound sexuality.

Seth thought his life had complications before he met Matt, but nothing comes close to the rollercoaster ride in the big dom's arms.

TIME TO LIVE: BUY LINK & EXCERPT

Can't decide? Check out the whole collection by clicking here.

Posted by Sarah Ballance, who cordially invites you to subscribe to her blog for a weekly shot at a $10 gift certificate to Noble Romance. To subscribe or for full details, click here.

FAMILIAR LIGHT - A Timeless Desire Novella

by Sarah Ballance

I'm not quite sure how it happened, but I have another release RIGHT around the corner and, well, shucks, isn't it pretty? In just four days, on October 17, my new romantic suspense novella FAMILIAR LIGHT will be available from Noble Romance as part of the Noble Romance Authors November Blog Tour.

Today, I'm here with a sneak peek: a blurb and ... wait for it ... an exclusive excerpt. Yup, that's right - it's not even on my website yet! (Okay, so sometimes procrastination pays, LOL. "Exclusive" has a nice right to it, no?" *Grin*) This story has been getting MAD props through my Six Sentence Sunday offerings, so check it out, wouldya?

FAMILIAR LIGHT

Seven years of longing comes down to just one night.

Laney Kent returns to Barrier Shoals hoping to reunite with her first love, Bridger. She anticipates his reception might be chilly, but what she doesn’t expect is to become the victim of a deadly obsession . . . or that this night with Bridger could be her last.

Bridger Jansen tangled a lot of sheets trying to forget about Laney, but his heart knew what the rest of him refused to admit: he could love no one else. He’s determined not to forgive her for leaving him without explanation, but when he fails to protect her from a viscous attack, the person he can’t forgive just might be himself.

EXCERPT

"Can I help you?" The gruff question trickled through the cavernous space like water leaking through pipes. He seemed to materialize from the shadows as he strode toward her, the rise of heat from the concrete floor keeping him just out of focus.

But her heart knew.

She swallowed a hard knob of regret. "Bridger?"

He couldn't have heard her—not with the way she clung to his name, as if saying it out loud would be to lose another piece of him. But his step faltered, and the recognition in that interrupted cadence brought the burn of tears to her eyes.

No regrets.

She stood, trembling, as the fifty feet between them dwindled to ten. When he was close enough for her to make out the stubble lining his jaw, his legs stopped moving, but his gaze tore over her. The impassioned glare was without direction, a harsh reflection of the hard lines edging his face. The warm brown eyes she remembered were now a bitter shade of espresso.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

The words, tense with fury, sent her backpedaling against the concrete wall. Too late, she realized she no longer knew this man. They were kids when they'd parted ways, too naïve to realize they'd never keep those breathless promises. At least she'd been that way. His tone suggested otherwise.

They were alone in the deeply shadowed belly of Barrier Shoals Light. And for the first time within those walls, Laney tasted fear.

"Was I supposed to wait for you?" he asked.

Seven years had passed since her weak-kneed promise to return to him. She didn't have an answer for that.

He took another step, boxing her against the curvature of the rock. He stood close—so close, she had to tip her head to meet his eyes.

And she summoned courage to do it.

"Was I?" he asked, his voice softer now. He leaned closer. The stifling heat morphed into sexual innuendo, his skin slick with sweat, daring her to touch.

She was one careless thought away from taking him up on that unspoken suggestion. Her fingers itched to claw through his hair, to draw him closer until the distance between them evaporated. Memories of frantically grasping for purchase against the stone wall besieged her, curling fear into boundless adrenaline. "Did you?"

Her words coaxed a slow grin from his sensual mouth. "Was I supposed to?"

Wait for me, Bridger I'll be back.

The thought came from nowhere, peeling away seven years to their last night together. He'd held her, caressed the hair from her face, and kissed every salty inch of her skin. Stay. A single word. A plea from a man who asked for nothing—and yet owned it all. Every piece of her was his.

She'd just taken too long to realize it. And those eyes . . . . They bore into her, dark with the kind of passion that made anger futile and sex magnificent.

She remembered the latter well.

"Can we talk?" she asked. Lame. But in that moment, all that mattered.

He ran his index finger along her jaw—a slow, teasing exploration he abandoned in short order to toy with a strand of her hair. Dipping his head so his lips grazed her ear, he said, "To think I have anything to say is to assume I still give a damn, Laney. And I think I left that behind a long time ago."

His words were so much at odds with his actions she failed to reconcile the two. Lack of awareness might also be blamed on the hand curling at her nape, the gentle touch drawing her against his chest. Or the heat of his mouth lingering on her flesh, following the coy path his finger trailed across her jaw. Every nuance of touch electrified her, each moment captured in a single thud of her heartbeat.

He stood so close she saw only snapshots of memories, each one triggering another landslide of emotion. His mouth closing over her skin. His fingers laced through hers. That wicked grin he wore as he held her captive with his touch, her wrists pressed overhead against the sand. The dark shadow of his profile blotting out the dance of moonlight on water, their heavy breaths intoxicated with salt air and lust . . . and a promise she failed to keep.

"If I were less of a man," he said, "I'd tell you what you wanted to hear. We'd have a good time, and then I'd walk. Let you spend the next few years wondering what the hell you did to lose me."

"Bridger—"

"But no one deserves that. Not even you." His tight smile brought hard lines to his jaw, but no trace of forgiveness. Holding fast to her gaze, he stepped away, taking twenty degrees of Fahrenheit with him.

Laney shivered. He may have put distance between them, but the narrow darkness in his eyes clutched her throat. She'd mistaken the flat, slated glare for fury, but it wasn't anger . . . it was hurt. She'd hurt him by not coming back. And that was far worse than his wrath.

"You should go."

She opened her mouth and closed it. Every reason she counted for coming back begged her to stay and stand up for what they once had, but there was one thing missing from her fight: a leg upon which to stand.

So, with nothing left to say, she went.

Now y'all KNOW it doesn't end there . . . find out what happens next in FAMILIAR LIGHT, coming Monday, October 17th!

Sarah Ballance

Noble Author Page | Website | Blog

Psst: Subscribe to my blog *by email* and you are automatically entered to win a weekly prize--winner's choice of a $10 gift certificate to Noble Romance or $5 to Amazon. YES, it's really that easy, but full details are available by clicking here.

First Look: "Ancient Magic"

Most of you around here know me as a writer of angels, demons, and some of you have even seen a vampire or two creeping around my Noble backlist. But today, I wanted to take a minute and tell you about my next release from Noble, scheduled for October 24th.

The story is called "Ancient Magic," and is a departure from the contemporary paranormal stories I usually write. What makes "Ancient Magic" so unusual for me is, this is swords-and-horses fantasy, a pond in which I rarely dip my toe. Of course, there's a paranormal angle, but whatever you're thinking, there's a pretty good chance that's not it. For all that, though, there's not going to be any mistaking this story for anything but what it is: a J.S. Wayne story. Complete with all the twists, violence, and hawtness you've come to expect from me. This is also my entry for the "Timeless Desire" series of novellas, and I'm looking forward to the November blog tour of the same name!


I don't have cover art for "Ancient Magic" yet, but I'm assured by the lovely and talented Fiona Jayde that I should within the week. Keep watching my spot over at http://jswayne.wordpress.com, because as soon as it hits, I'll put it up! Speaking of, on the 17th I'm hosting a VERY special guest over at my blog: Mr. Maxim Jakubowski. If the name doesn't ring any bells, Google him. If it does, you won't want to miss it. This is a huge honor for me, because I first read his erotica back when "erotica" to me meant "dirty stories to read to girls so I'd have a better chance of getting laid." And don't forget, I'll be back here on the 20th, and also blogging over at Tabitha's Nocturnal Nights!

In the meantime, though, I'm going to give you a little taste of things to come with this excerpt. It's still in edits, so there may be some slight changes from what you read here in the final, but I hope you enjoy it!

Blurb

More than two decades have passed since the Hodans invaded the peaceful kingdom of Jurav. In their zeal for conquest, they have mercilessly rent the Juravian national character asunder, starting with the temples of their gods.

Varath was raised from a young age by his uncle to one day assume his father's mantle—that of the command warden of the Temple of Noradi, the most beloved goddess of the Juravian pantheon and the deity of heart, hearth, and the fires which burn in both.

Melody would have been the High Priestess to Noradi, and her own family has groomed her with equal care against the day when the Hodan hordes would be expelled and she could assume her rightful place as the most powerful figure in the entire nation . . . and as Varath's bride.

When Varath departed to serve in the Hodan army, Melody saw it as an unconscionable betrayal. Now Varath has returned to take his father's place as the sole guardian of a temple where no one dares enter, and he has made overtures to claim the other half of his bequest: Melody herself. But can Melody see past the deceptions and lies his rebellion has forced and learn to love the man who seems to have turned his back on his own people?

     There! His battle-sharpened eyes picked out a flicker of movement in the trees beyond the moon-silvered, ruined courtyard. He stretched one hand casually toward his battle-axe; at the first sign of anything amiss, the heavy weapon would be ready to his grasp. Aside from that slight motion, undoubtedly undetectable at the distance that separated him from the interloper, he stood as still and quiet as the stones that surrounded him.

     Varath watched intently as she parted the delicate shadows of the sacred grove as if the moonlight had willed itself a pleasing form for his benefit. She drew closer, her feet making no sound on the ground beneath her as she came. Stark black and white resolved into myriad subtle nuances of silver, turquoise, amethyst, and onyx, crowned with a cascade of falling-star hair that rippled and flowed around her shoulders with every step.

     She was a woman in the same sense that a raging thunderstorm was rain.

     Oh, she had all the requisite curves and loveliness, of that there could be no denial. But she was much, much more than merely a soft collection of pleasing angles and lines that drew his eye, his hand, his desire. She was a goddess, a dove amongst crows, a sensual virginal temptress. There was something eternal in the way she moved, an intangible hint that while she could touch and negotiate her way in this world, she was still somehow untainted by it. The dirt and filth that accrued to mere mortals and the grief and pain that layered their souls could find no purchase with her.

     As Varath studied her approach with growing excitement, he wondered how this erotic apparition could possibly find any merit in him.

     She stepped lightly over the tumbled ring of once-grand columns that had denoted the inner boundary of the temple's grounds. He noted that her feet were bare beneath her gown of deep purple, piped with silver embellishment at wrists, neckline, and waist. She wore one ring on each hand, and a silver bracelet of craftsmanship that no mere human could ever hope to duplicate encircled her delicate right wrist.

     Varath's breath caught as she stopped just a hair's breadth beyond his arm's reach and offered him a shallow nod.

     "Varath."

     "Melody."

     Melody favored him with a cool smile. "How have you been keeping?"

     Varath grunted, taking refuge in his best, brusque military manner to conceal his desire to say something foolish . . . like, I love you. "I've been lonely. Can you even conceive of how stultifying it becomes to stand watch over this same ground night after night for as long as I have? If anything ever happened here, I would undoubtedly feel different." His tone lost some of its edge as she cut her eyes down toward the ground; he realized he had unknowingly hurt her with his abrupt, clipped speech.

     "You—you've forgiven me?"

And, a parting thought: If you haven't checked out Angels Cry yet, you should take a look at the reviews that are coming in for it. I'm very proud of this novel, and hope that you'll give it a look!

Until next time,

Best, 

J.S. Wayne

---