One of my dear friends is donating the proceeds from this to Relay for Life. If you can help, that would be great!
*Proceeds go to Relay for Life of Alamance County
If today was your last day, what would you dream?
Will Leavey's neighbors want to make his wish come true. Why? He's terminally ill with cancer and smack dab in the middle of a second uphill fight.
Through fundraisers and prayer power, everyone's tossed something into the pot. Bella Variel has pitched in more than bone marrow. Her passion for the cause triggered Maxwell Bahn's protective side.
When a boy needs a super hero on call...who's better than an officer in tights?
http://tinyurl.com/qhn7euy
Thursday, April 02, 2015
Thursday, June 19, 2014
Throwback Thursday - Excerpt Altered Destiny
I thought I'd share one of my favorite heroes with you today. Devyn MacGregor, the handsome red-heided Bard leads a double life. By day, he's the meek and mild, slightly bumbling Bard who works for the Qui'arel. But by night, he's the Reiver Lord who fights for the freedom of humankind. In this excerpt, Devyn has just run into, literally, the strange young woman who claims he's her husband. He's attempting to get her to safety before the Qui'arel discover her but runs into a patrol led by one of their chief warriors. Devyn isn't sure what to make of the strange woman - is she innocent or is she the bait in a trap to capture the Reiver Lord?
Sweet Mai! Devyn kept his expression bland by sheer will.
The Qui’arel lord, Gabriel, turned to him with a questioning lift of silvery brows. “Bard?” “Your pardon, my lord. She’s a wee bit confused.” He looked down on the crown of tousled hair beneath his chin. “She’s not an outlaw, though, I’m fair sure of that.”
“All MacGregors are outlaws.” The man’s smile did not lighten his eyes. “Your clan has a history of it.”
Devyn’s horse tossed its head and sidled sideways. He spent a moment longer than necessary to settle it. “And not all MacGregors are born to the name.”
“Were you born a MacGregor?” Gabriel demanded.
Her fear sang through the temblors of her body as she shook her head. What was wrong with the lass? She acted as if she’d never seen a Qui’arel afore. And, though he wished it could be true, it was damned impossible. He put his hand on her arm, to offer comfort he told himself but, more than that, to let her know he was there. That he would do everything in his power to keep her safe.
A sudden gleam entered Gabriel’s eyes. “Ah, then you are wed to a MacGregor, are you?”
His gaze shifted to Devyn while he continued to speak to the lass. “Who is your husband?”
Her knuckles whitened on the pommel but she sat straighter of a sudden. She took a breath, then said, “Devyn MacGregor.”
“What?” The word barked out of his mouth. Of all the things he’d expected, that claim was the very last. It was a claim that jeopardized all his plans. “We’re not wed, my lord. I found her on the coast. Alone. The victim of, well, I dinna ken what but she’s confused, maybe a bit addled.”
Behind Lord Gabriel, the other two Qui’arel snickered. Gabriel slanted a dour look at them until they fell silent. “Yet, she claims to be your wife.”
“She’s not.” He made an effort to speak calmly. “I am not allowed to wed, not without Lady Cuini’s sanction.”
“It is a conundrum, is it not?” Gabriel returned his attention to the lass. “Where were you taking her?”
He’d intended to take the lass to the Village. But with Gabriel’s knowledge of her, that was impossible. He donned his Bardish smile, the one that said he was as simple as they all believed. “Why, to Reach Seagate, of course.”
Gabriel continued to watch the woman. Then, with a cool flat stare at Devyn, he said, “You were wrong, you know. You do not need Lady Cuini’s permission to wed. You need mine.”
Devyn stilled, an odd foreboding creeping up his back.
“The woman claims you as her husband. I ask you now. Do you accept her as your wife? Or should she be given to the Bounty?”
“My lord, this is–” Devyn broke off. If he didn’t accept her, the poor demented lass would end her days as a slave. He looked away. But, supposing she was not what she seemed? Neither innocent, nor demented? Suppose she was a spy for the Qui’arel purposefully set on that beach awaiting his arrival? That meant they suspected his identity as the Reiver Lord. Refusing her would only confirm it. “This is most kind of you.”
Gabriel shrugged, dismissal firm in every line of his body. “Is it? I suppose you’re right. You may continue on your way.”
“And Lady Cuini?” Devyn lifted a hand. “What shall I tell her?”
“The truth, of course. She will not be entirely happy, I fear, but–” A smile spread across his face. “That which we see so clearly is often seen just as clearly–but differently–through other eyes. Go. Take your bride to Seagate before the Reiver steals her away. Coreas will accompany you.”
Annie turned her head to look back as Devyn maneuvered the gelding past Gabriel, but he shifted his arms and leaned forward to murmur, “Dinna look back, lass. ‘Tis bad luck, you ken.”
“Bard,” Gabriel called.
Devyn halted the gelding, his stomach clenched into a painful knot. “Aye, my lord?”
“Where have you come from?”
“Just now? From Beanwich Cove. And before that, Stiller’s Freehold.”
“Have you seen anything unusual?”
“No, my lord.”
Gabriel nodded in dismissal.
Devyn wondered what Lord Gabriel was searching for. The Reiver Lord? Or something else?
“Who are they? What are they?” she whispered. “Elves?”
His harsh laugh startled the horse, which shied for a moment until he regained control. He hesitated, waited until Coreas fell behind them on the narrow trail. “Dinna say you’ve ne’er seen a Qui’arel afore?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Ach, well, it’s a wondrous odd place you come from then.” Devyn fell silent. When they reached the narrow road, he hesitated. Between one breath and the next, the lass had ruined a plan set into motion years ago. Why? For fear of the Qui’arel? Not likely, if she didn’t know who and what they were.
“Bard? Seagate is east,” Coreas said. “Turn right.”
“Aye, your pardon. I was just lost in thought for a moment.” Devyn followed the road, north and east. The lass sat stiff and straight, obviously trying not to touch him. Yet the gelding’s rolling gait kept her warm, shapely arse rocking against his eager roger. He must be as barmy as she was.
Somehow he had to find a way out of the trap. He needed the liaison with Cuini. He needed to preserve his secret identity. He did not need a woman living with him, spy or not, who might discover his secrets.
“If they’re not Elves, what are they?” Annie asked quietly.
“Why did you tell Lord Gabriel I was your husband?”
She was silent so long, he thought she wouldn’t answer. Finally, she spoke, keeping her voice low so their guard would not hear. “Those, what did you call them? Kee-arell?”
She fumbled the name. Devyn didn’t care. “Aye. Go on.”
“A lot of weird stuff has happened to me. Stuff you wouldn’t believe. For now, I’d rather stay with you.”
He frowned. “Me?”
“I...I think I can trust you.” She twisted to look into his face. “I can, can’t I?”
The air of familiarity struck him again. Who was she? Why did he find her so appealing? Then another thought struck him. “You asked about the moon. Why?”
Disappointment flickered in her eyes. She turned, faced forward and said, “It exploded.”
A peal of sadness rang in his soul. The lass had surely lost her mind. “Nae, it didna explode,” he said gently. “You may trust me on that.”\
“But nothing else?”
Buy Links
Amazon Kindle http://www.amazon.com/Altered-Destiny-ebook/dp/B00579FKFO/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1308920443&sr=8-1
Praise for Altered Destiny
"ALTERED DESTINY is a rousing tale of despair, hope,
love and courage. ...I recommend ALTERED DESTINY."
Vi Janaway, Romance Reviews Today
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Friday, June 06, 2014
Freaky Friday - Of Men, Monsters, and Inspiration
I'm Lynda K. Scott and I'm a monster reality show addict. There, I said it. I watch all the Sasquatch/Big Foot/ Devil Dog/ Mothman/ Yeti/ Wolfman...well, you get it. I watch them all. Okay, I don't actually watch them but the show is on and I listen to them while I'm either working or surfing the net.
Listening gives me more insight I think than just viewing them on the flatscreen because I can hear the sincerity in their voices when they very seriously announce that Squatches beat on trees or gabble monkey talk or yell as if being tortured by an even bigger, badder Squatch.
A different group of 'researchers' run around in the dark woods looking for various cryptids (yep, these good old boys even used that word) and giving off details like the technique a devil dog uses to scrape flesh off a calf (a living calf...who didn't die from the wound that caused a huge scar on its back and sides), or how it's unwise to stare at the Mothman, or how a river dragon sucks up heat from a cabin's chimney.
All this may be true. But I question the sources since the very existence of these creatures has yet to be proven. And all these critters are apparently nocturnal. Hence the need for these 'researchers' to prowl the woods at night. Mind you, I'm not a hunter but I can guarantee no self-respecting monster is going to hang around in an area where 5-7 men are shining lights and yelling at each other. No, the cryptid will giggle for a moment then slink off into the dark and continue on their own business. That's what I would do if I valued my life and privacy.
These shows are pure entertainment with very little real facts. I understand that and watch (listen) to them just to have them inspire story ideas. But I wish, I really do, that they existed. As long as they weren't interested in eating me ;-)
Listening gives me more insight I think than just viewing them on the flatscreen because I can hear the sincerity in their voices when they very seriously announce that Squatches beat on trees or gabble monkey talk or yell as if being tortured by an even bigger, badder Squatch.
A different group of 'researchers' run around in the dark woods looking for various cryptids (yep, these good old boys even used that word) and giving off details like the technique a devil dog uses to scrape flesh off a calf (a living calf...who didn't die from the wound that caused a huge scar on its back and sides), or how it's unwise to stare at the Mothman, or how a river dragon sucks up heat from a cabin's chimney.
All this may be true. But I question the sources since the very existence of these creatures has yet to be proven. And all these critters are apparently nocturnal. Hence the need for these 'researchers' to prowl the woods at night. Mind you, I'm not a hunter but I can guarantee no self-respecting monster is going to hang around in an area where 5-7 men are shining lights and yelling at each other. No, the cryptid will giggle for a moment then slink off into the dark and continue on their own business. That's what I would do if I valued my life and privacy.
These shows are pure entertainment with very little real facts. I understand that and watch (listen) to them just to have them inspire story ideas. But I wish, I really do, that they existed. As long as they weren't interested in eating me ;-)
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Thursday, June 05, 2014
Throwback Thursday - Altered Destiny
Do you know what time it is? It's time for a Throwback Thursday! This weeks throwback will be from my novel Altered Destiny. Altered Destiny has its own strange story. It was written out of sheer frustration with the publishing industry. All around me, I saw books being published that were similar to my Heartstone which languished on an editor's desk. So I started taking different elements from recently published books...dragons, elves, hot Highlanders and combined them all. After I had several chapters, though, I found that I had a pretty damn good story! I entered it in contests and, what do you know, it won or came close to winning! I decided to finish the story but, of course, when I did, the market for dragons, elves and hot Highlanders had slowed to a simmer. I offered it to my then publisher who went belly up almost immediately after I signed their contract. After a fight to get my rights back, I decided to publish it myself. To be honest, it's done very well. And the hot Highlander is still one of my very favorite heroes.
Prologue
Liane reeled in broad
daylight, the sun beating over the waves and blinding her with its brilliance.
Chapter 1
“They that rise wi’ the sun hae their
wark weel begun.”
Prologue
2010
AD, Virginia Coast United States
It took a
certain amount of courage to leave a safe and comfortable life, to leap into
the void, and risk failure. Liane
Gautier-MacGregor sighed–one
sigh was all she would allow–then
faced the slow, even swells of the Atlantic . Normally, she loved the solitude of the
narrow beach but, tonight, it echoed with loneliness.
Dreams,
lies, broken trust. She shrugged; they
were all the same. Take her
ex-husband. Please, she added
with a snarky smile. For a long time,
she’d thought Devyn was the man of her dreams.
“Which just goes to show,” she said, shrugging.
Far out
to sea, a pale line of fog rose out of the ocean depths. High above the fog, a star pulsed in the
indigo sky.
“Star
light, star bright,” Liane began, then paused, unsure what to wish for. A blast of cold air shoved her backward. Pulling her jacket together, she braced
herself against the wind. What did
ex-husbands and the weather have in common?
Can’t count on either of them.
Glancing at the star again, she muttered, “It’s probably a satellite
anyway.”
From atop
the bluff, the dull thump of her ex-husband’s car door, followed by the BMW’s
throaty growl echoed off the trees and cottage walls. She turned to see the top landing of the sea
stairs. Twin beams of light speared the
darkness then angled away.
She was
alone. In the dark. On a deserted beach.
Liane
shivered. Gautiers were never
afraid. At least, that’s what her father
had always said. She drew in a breath of
salt-laden air, then turned to carefully retrace her footsteps. She could see them clearly in the moonlight
and for a moment wished she could as easily retrace her life’s footsteps. Go back to a time before her marriage, before
she’d become such a huge disappointment to her parents. To herself.
A wave
lapped over her left foot, filling her shoe with icy water. She jumped sideways before the next wave
hit. Waves shouldn’t reach this high on
the little beach. She puzzled over it
for a moment. Maybe a storm was
coming? But the sky was clear, filled
with stars and a brilliant full moon.
In fact,
her wishing star, or satellite, twinkled even more brightly. “Star light, star bright. First star I see tonight.”
She
chuckled. Well, it was the first star
she’d noticed that night at any rate.
“May I have, may I wish–”
She
paused again, and thought. “What I wish
tonight.”
The BMW’s
engine noise faded in the distance. She
shivered at the sudden stillness. “I
wish for a new beginning.”
Okay, so
that was going to happen anyway now that her divorce was final. "I wish for a good new beginning."
Vague,
that was too vague, she decided. Maybe--
"I wish that I'm brave enough to succeed at a new beginning."
Fear of
failure, fear of success...it didn't matter what you called it. The fact was, she was a coward in so many
different aspects of her life. And so
much would be different if she had been a tenth as brave as her mother or
father. Her head lowered as grief rolled
over her. Her chest tightened,
constricting her breath. But, her head
jerked sideways in a negating gesture, she wasn’t brave and her parents were
dead because of her cowardice. Because she’d
let her father drive when he wasn’t familiar with icy roads. She cast a sad, longing look at the star.
Her
wishing star jinked sideways, then elongated.
Was it a comet? So much for
wishes. “Should have wished for a telescope.”
As she
watched the comet-star, a buzzing, tickling sensation swept over her. Her scalp tingled, her hair lifted. She looked around uneasily as the wind died. Even the waves, so restless moments ago,
hesitated, stuck in mid-curl.
Her gaze,
drawn to the sky, settled on the not-star as it sped toward the moon. Liane’s throat filled with dread as, with a
flash of blinding whiteness and an utter lack of sound, the moon exploded.
She
gasped in terrified awe as fragments whirled silently through the sky. Get inside! screamed the primitive
part of her mind, inside, inside, inside. Obeying the silent command, she sped toward
the sea stairs but the wind came at her like a battering ram. She stumbled, fell back, and caught herself
as her shoes filled with cold ocean water.
The tide surged, slammed into her knees.
With a
supreme effort, Liane dragged herself forward then–
The sea,
the beach, the moon and stars–all
spun in rapid circles around her. A
queer, sideways slide, a wrenching shift, threw her off-balance.
From
somewhere came her ex-husband’s startled yell followed by the deep mechanical
growl of his BMW.
She
flailed as a kaleidoscope of color burned across her eyes and drummed through
her skull. Swept up, she clawed empty
air. Tiny zaps, electrically charged,
sizzled over her, around her, through her.
Then, as if a giant hand reached out to snatch her from the maelstrom–
Liane reeled in broad
daylight, the sun beating over the waves and blinding her with its brilliance.
Chapter 1
“They that rise wi’ the sun hae their
wark weel begun.”
260 AQ, Virginia Coast
Dizzy and
off-balance, Liane had a single moment to gape at the suddenly day-lit beach
before a man-shaped wrecking-ball slammed into her, dumping her into the chilly
surf. “Erp!”
“Guh!” The man sprawled on top of her. A frothing wave crashed over her, filling her
nose and mouth with the briny taste of seawater. The man levered himself up and gaped at her
through a pair of startling green eyes--her ex-husband’s green eyes.
“Blethering hell,
woman! Where did you come from?” He leaped to his feet, staring at her with an
equal mixture of irritation, astonishment and concern. He offered her a hand up. “Are you hurt?”
The
last thing she wanted to do was touch him–unless
she had a two-by-four in her hands–so
she ignored him. She stood, brushing her
wet clothes with sharp flicks of her hands.
Movement from the corner of her eye had her turn in time to see a dark
bay horse scaling the bluff. What the
hell was a horse doing here? For that
matter, she turned to her ex, what was he
doing here? “What are you doing here?”
His
green eyes narrowed. “I might ask you
the same, lass.”
His
Scottish burr startled her. So did his
clothing–a red
and black kilt, a blue coat, unbuttoned to reveal a snowy white shirt, wetly
plastered to his chest, argyle socks over silver-buckled boots. Her gaze settled on his bare knees. Even if he was a two-timing snake, Devyn had
gorgeous knees...for a man, she added grudgingly. Sneering, she said, “Cute outfit. Where’d you get it? Scots R Us?”
Buy Links
Kindle http://www.amazon.com/Altered-Destiny-ebook/dp/B00579FKFO/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1308920443&sr=8-1
Contact me:
Website http://www.lyndakscott.com.
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Wednesday, June 04, 2014
Editing Techniques
I'm in the process of editing my novel, Rider, which has been sold to Entangled Publishing (Yay!) My lovely editor has gone through and pointed out areas where I needed to make corrections; grammar, plot, characterization. I can honestly say I enjoy the editing process. Yeah, I know, I'm weird. ;-)
But I thought I'd share how I do it.
First pass: Grammar
I seem to be the queen of the coma splice so I had a bunch of those to correct. And there were issues about capitalizing certain words. These were all easy to correct since I accepted my lovely editors wisdom in almost every case and made the appropriate changes ;-)
The interesting part is that as I made this first pass, I took note of the comments left in the margins. Comments about plot or characterization or description. I didn't make any changes at the time because I wanted them to settle in my back brain and simmer for a spell.
Second pass - Plot, Characterization and Descriptions.
It's amazing to see what others think as they read Rider - what they like, what confuses them, what they think would make the story better. I'm generally from the school of 'The Editor Is Always Right' so I don't have a problem with fleshing out the story.
Even though I've listed it last, I start with any description problems since those are easiest to fix. Sometimes I forget that readers can't see the image I have in my mind and it's good to have someone point out that they're missing exciting details.
Once I'm done with Characterization, I move on to Characterization. I do this because my plots generally hinge on character so I need that firmly grounded.
Finally, I correct any plot problems. These aren't huge problems but sometimes need a little tweaking especially as I'm a Fly Into The Mist type of plotter.
Simple? For me, it is. I don't know how others would take to this. In fact, if you have a different way, please share your techniques. I'm sure we all could use the inspiration :-)
Have a Blessed Day!
But I thought I'd share how I do it.
First pass: Grammar
I seem to be the queen of the coma splice so I had a bunch of those to correct. And there were issues about capitalizing certain words. These were all easy to correct since I accepted my lovely editors wisdom in almost every case and made the appropriate changes ;-)
The interesting part is that as I made this first pass, I took note of the comments left in the margins. Comments about plot or characterization or description. I didn't make any changes at the time because I wanted them to settle in my back brain and simmer for a spell.
Second pass - Plot, Characterization and Descriptions.
It's amazing to see what others think as they read Rider - what they like, what confuses them, what they think would make the story better. I'm generally from the school of 'The Editor Is Always Right' so I don't have a problem with fleshing out the story.
Even though I've listed it last, I start with any description problems since those are easiest to fix. Sometimes I forget that readers can't see the image I have in my mind and it's good to have someone point out that they're missing exciting details.
Once I'm done with Characterization, I move on to Characterization. I do this because my plots generally hinge on character so I need that firmly grounded.
Finally, I correct any plot problems. These aren't huge problems but sometimes need a little tweaking especially as I'm a Fly Into The Mist type of plotter.
Simple? For me, it is. I don't know how others would take to this. In fact, if you have a different way, please share your techniques. I'm sure we all could use the inspiration :-)
Have a Blessed Day!
Contact me:
Website http://www.lyndakscott.com.
Twitter: http://twitter.com/LyndaKScott
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http://www.facebook.com/pages/Lynda-K-Scott/201599553208653
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Newsletter http://eepurl.com/ywCD1Thursday, May 22, 2014
Throwback Thursday - Heartstone
Thought I'd share an excerpt from Heartstone today. Heartstone was my first paranormal romance written as a challenge from my romance writing friends. Imagine my surprise when it finaled in RWA's Golden Heart contest!
Set Up: Keriam Norton has adopted what she thought was a stray dog. She doesn't realize the dog is Eric d'Ebrur in his canid form. He's come to Earth to find the Heartstone, a mystical artifact that Keriam inherited from her mother, in a last ditch bid to save his planet and his galaxy from the Gawan.
Excerpt
When the Stonebearer went
upstairs to bed, Eric shifted to his true form and, scowling, scratched an
insect bite on his naked hip. This primitive world could try the patience of a
Starfarer, let alone that of a warrior. The Stonebearer hadn't bothered locking
the doors. She'd left windows open. Obviously, the woman lacked an ordinary
sense of precaution.
He made a circuit of the lower
floor, securing both doors and windows. When he heard water running upstairs,
he took the opportunity to wash his face and hands in the kitchen sink. The
long, thin noodles and thick, spicy sauce she had prepared for dinner had
tasted remarkable but had been messy.
After he dried his face and
hands, he fetched a glass from the cupboard and poured himself a glass of wine.
He couldn't explore upstairs until she was safely asleep.
The Heartstone had to be here,
in this house. Somewhere.
Logic said she would keep it
close.
He sipped the wine, padding
into the front room to stare out the wide windows. The inky night glittered
with sporadic flickers of light. Some kind of flying insect, he supposed,
performing some sort of mating ritual.
"I'll fight the Gawan
with sword or blaster, fang or claw," Eric had told his grandfather and
Benamont I'sadhe. "But I will not take a wife."
Eric pursed his lips.
Supposedly the woman upstairs was his long lost Gar'Jael, his soul mate. If one
believed in that sort of nonsense. Eric didn't. And even if he did, he had no
room in his life for a mate of any kind. He intended to destroy the Gawan
before they destroyed everything he held dear.
For that, he needed the
Heartstone.
Not a wife.
Available from Mundania Publishing: http://www.mundania.com/book.php?title=Heartstone
You can check out my other books by going to www.lyndakscott.com
Available from Mundania Publishing: http://www.mundania.com/book.php?title=Heartstone
You can check out my other books by going to www.lyndakscott.com
Contact me:
Website http://www.lyndakscott.com.
Twitter: http://twitter.com/LyndaKScott
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Wednesday, March 26, 2014
Birthday Celebration!
I have a birthday coming up in April and one lucky member of my newsletter will receive a birthday prize! A variety pack of Body Essential Oils!
You can join the newsletter by clicking the link below.
If you haven't heard, I've sold Rider in a 3 Book deal to Entangled Publishing! To celebrate that, I'll be offering a prize (or maybe a couple of prizes) near its release date. We're going to rename Rider, which was always just a working title and I can't wait to see what we come up with ;-)
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