Too Hot To Handle

Excerpt from Too Hot To Handle/Linda Sole
Coming on June 7th with Eternal Press


Sylvie had just finished washing her hair that evening when the telephone rang. She picked it up, frowning as a man’s voice asked if she was Sylvie Penrith.

“Yes—who is that please?”

“Rafe Wilde,” the answer surprised her so much she almost dropped the receiver. “I got your number from Cornel. I wondered if I could come round and see you this evening?”

“Why?” Sylvie glanced at herself in the mirror, her eyes looked wide and startled. She tried to collect her thoughts. Even the sound of his voice was enough to make the heat curl in her stomach. She swallowed hard, keeping her voice steady, as she said, “I’ve got wet hair at the moment. Besides...didn’t you have a plane to catch earlier?”

“I changed my mind,” he said and hesitated, sounding a little odd as he went on, “I understand Mrs. Christine Penrith of Penhallows is your grandmother?”

“Yes, she is,” Sylvie replied, frowning at her own reflection. “But I don’t see...”

“It was Mrs. Penrith I went to see when I was in England. We met at her hotel in London, she was up for a trade show that we both attended. She invited me to stay at Penhallows for a wedding...next week I think she said?”

“My uncle’s wedding. Yes, that is next week. I’m going home for it myself.” Sylvie was puzzled. “I don’t see where this is leading us, Mr. Wilde. If it’s a business matter, I can’t help you I’m afraid. I’ve never had anything to do with Christine’s business.”

“No, it’s not business. I refused Mrs. Penrith’s invitation at the time, but I’ve changed my mind. I’ve decided I need to go back to England, and...I wondered if we could travel to your home together?”

“I’m not sure that would be a good idea,” Sylvie said. “I haven’t finalized my plans yet. If you’re wondering about finding your way, I can give you directions. The house is a bit difficult to locate, especially if you don’t know the area.”

“That’s what Mrs. Penrith told me. So—may I call round this evening?”

“Yes, I suppose so.” Sylvie knew she sounded doubtful, but she couldn’t help it. He had been so brusque earlier in the day, and she wasn’t sure she relished the idea of another meeting with him. “Give me half an hour to dry my hair.”

“I’ll do that.”

Sylvie stared at the receiver as she replaced it. Rafe Wilde must have returned to his uncle’s apartment after she left, but it was a little surprising that Cornel had given him her phone number—and her address—since he hadn’t asked where she lived. She almost rang Cornel to check, but then thought it might seem as if she were complaining. After all, Rafe Wilde’s request wasn’t so very surprising. Most people needed help to find their way to her grandmother’s home.

Sylvie was thoughtful as she blow-dried her hair, leaving it swinging loosely on her shoulders. The soft, flowery perfume of her shampoo pervaded the air of the sitting room. She was a very sexy woman, but she wasn’t aware of it, had seldom given her sensuality a passing thought—at least, not since she had run away from home and a relationship that was going nowhere, had become too painful to face.

She was wearing a navy and white sweat suit and slip on mules, which were comfortable to sit around in during the evenings when she was alone at the flat. Her outfit wasn’t particularly smart, but she had no intention of dressing up. Mr. Wilde would just have to take her as he found her.

She wondered what had changed his mind about accepting her grandmother’s invitation to stay at Penhallows. He could surely have little interest in attending a wedding between people he had never met—or perhaps he had? It was possible, of course.
Christine often invited business contacts to stay at Penhallows. She was proud of the old house, which was set in a gentle valley between England and Scotland, the wild beautiful countryside that was known as the Borders. Both the house and its setting were indeed lovely, a little isolated in winter perhaps, but glorious in summer. It was summer now, and Mr. Wilde would be seeing the estate at its best.
For a moment, Sylvie felt a pang of nostalgia for her home. As a child she had loved to roam the glen, to watch the deer in Penhallows Park and swim in the chilly waters of their lake. Penhallows was not a large estate by any means, some of the land her grandfather’s ancestors had owned having been sold off long ago, but what remained had prospered, perhaps because of Christine’s flair for business.

The family might not be hugely wealthy by modern standards, but there had always been enough money for the things they needed. Christine had ruled Penhallows after her husband died, seeming to take both his loss and the premature death of Sylvie’s father in her stride. James Penrith had been just thirty when he and his wife Elizabeth had been killed in a flying accident. From that moment on, Christine had taken charge of Sylvie, wrapping her about with a love that was as genuine as it was suffocating.

Except that it had not always seemed to be that way. When Sylvie was small she had adored Christine. It was only as she grew to womanhood that she had begun to resent her grandmother’s interference in her life.
Hearing the doorbell chime, Sylvie came out of her reverie and went to answer the summons. She stared at Rafe Wilde, her eyes still dark with emotion and disturbing memories.

Sylvie was unaware of the enticing perfume that clung about her, or the fact that her huge, haunted eyes were so appealing that once a man looked too deeply into them he just kept on drowning.

“Oh,” she said. “I’d almost forgotten...come in.”
“I brought a bottle of wine,” Rafe said, looking slightly hesitant, uncertain, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing there. “I thought I should apologize...for being rude earlier.”

“Yes, you were rude,” Sylvie didn’t bother to deny it. She didn’t know why, but this man had gotten under her skin and she was in no mood to humor him. “I was going to make some coffee, but we could open the wine if you prefer.”

“The wine is a gift for you,” Rafe said, intense blue eyes following her as she made for the kitchen. Despite the loose tracksuit, her hips had a seductive sway and there was no hiding her sensuality. Under those shapeless garments was a very desirable body. It was clear that she had not bothered to make herself attractive for his benefit, and that had its own charm for a man who was used to another kind of woman entirely. “I would be grateful for some coffee...if it’s good and strong like that you made for Cornel this morning.”

“You wouldn’t stay for that,” Sylvie said from the doorway of the kitchen. Her eyes and her tone were accusing him. “Cornel had an attack of pain after you left. You shouldn’t have upset him.”

“Pain?” Rafe frowned at her. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t know?” He shook his head and Sylvie hesitated. If Cornel hadn’t told him, perhaps she ought not to, and yet if he knew he might be more careful in future. “Cornel has angina. If he gets too stressed, it causes him pain. He has pills, but he needs to be careful. A severe attack might...”

“I know what a severe attack might do,” Rafe replied, glaring at her. He seemed angry again. “My father died of heart trouble. Why the hell didn’t Cornel tell me he has been ill?”

“Perhaps he didn’t want to worry you,” Sylvie suggested, relenting a little as she recognized genuine feeling. “And perhaps I ought not to have told you...”

Alzabreah's Garden - Romance/Suspense Novella

Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Alzabreah's Garden - Romance/Suspense Novella
EDEN GETS TWEAKED...


Please see a synopsis and excerpt of Alzabreah's Garden -


Promising them a better life, the high priestess Alzabreah lures her female disciples to a remote island. There they find love slaves ready and willing to satisfy their every desire. But soon a dark secret surfaces to shroud the island paradise in a dark cloud of murder…Alzabreah’s Garden ExcerptThe first male Olvidian born outside a natural womb, came into being just weeks later. He carried with him the dubious distinction of having his entire destiny mapped out for him in genetic code, making him the perfect love slave. Because of this, Mavra’s next question bewildered her drone companion.“How do you feel about me, Thorpleen?” She played with an errant strand of auburn hair hanging just above her breasts. Thorpleen’s eyes locked onto it, helpless to respond with any other reaction than lust. Mavra didn’t care how much Thorpleen lusted after her. She knew the drones were engineered for this. But Mavra never quite believed Alzabreah when the high priestess declared the drones incapable of love. She sat up, forcing Thorpleen to remove his eyes from her nipples. When their eyes locked onto each other’s, Mavra raised her right hand to caress his cheek. “Come now, my sweet, tell me how you feel when you gaze into my eyes.”“I feel comfortable with you, master.”“I want you to call me Mavra.”“The high priestess does not.”“She’s not here right now.” She paused to laugh, it bellowed out of her like a hiccup. “In case you haven’t noticed…”“She has eyes…Mavra.”“I chose this spot for a reason. There are no cams here to record us.”She leaned into him, playfully tickling his chest. “Now…tell me! I know even drones can be ticklish.”He laughed and grasped her hand gently. He put her middle finger into his mouth and sucked on it.“That won’t work!” Mavra feigned to be upset. Now empty your mouth and speak.”“I like…I mean…I think I like you. But I do not fully understand this emotion – if indeed I possess it.’’Mavra nodded. “I’ll accept your answer…for now. She resumed tickling his chest until he spoke again.“Mavra, please tell me again how I came into being.”Please check out Alzabreah’s Garden, you can get it at Fictionwise.Com: http://www.fictionwise.com/eBooks/garystartaeBooks.htm?cache
Regards
http://www.fictionwise.com/eBooks/garystartaeBooks.htm
Gary Starta – EP Author
Posted by Gary Starta Author

new review of my story collection, "Obsession"

I really hope I'm posting this accurately, on the right day!

A reviewer named "Frost's Fancy"

(who blogs here: http://incubusfrostofmernac.blogspot.com)

posted the following review of my collection of fourteen stories, Obsession (from EP of course)
on the site "Rainbow Reviews," edited by J.M. Snyder. This site is devoted to reviews of material in which major characters are gay-male, lesbian, biseuxal or transgendered.

Happy Victoria Day to all fellow-Canadians (and happy Monday - if possible - to everyone else!)

- Jean Roberta
-----------------------------------------------

14 stories of literary erotica spanning the genre and sexual orientation gamut. Obsession is the theme of these erotic tales in a range of spicy flavors. Meet men who desire women, women who risk everything for men, women driven to ecstasy by a female touch, young men drawn to the power of older men who cherish their "boys," couples who enjoy intimate games with their friends, ordinary humans seduced by the magical tricksters of myth and folklore.

Running the gamut of sexual orientations and the continuum of paranormal, Obsession offers something for everyone: historical, contemporary, mythical, folklore, horror, and fantasy. Gay, Lesbian, Bi, and Transgendered characters sport across the pages. 14 stories are sure to entice any reader’s attention.

Not the routine fairy tale nor sweet romance, these stories embody realistic characters in a variety of orientations and situations, whose underlying constant theme is “obsession,” that consuming drive and desire, no matter what the focus. The characters are well-developed and character evolution is often intense. The plots are just twisty enough to showcase the strong erotic nature of each entry.

Heavily erotic, yet literary, Obsession tangles with the dark side of human (and inhuman) relationships and eroticism. BDSM and generational erotica, human/nonhuman mating, and more “realistic” stories also compete to snare the reader’s attention, and sizzle quotient. These are definitely NOT read while in the doctor’s waiting room or standing in line at the ATM stories.

----------------------------------------

Rave Review for French Twist

RED ROSES FOR AUTHORS REVIEWS said:

Don arrives at work to discover that his French assistant has mistakenly ordered a large amount of cow manure, which has been tipped on the drive. Claudette refuses to believe him until she checks her "small" mistake. Don finds her irritating, but also very sexy! Her uncle soon tells her how to solve the problem of the over large order, but Claudette is in real trouble. She needs to keep her mind clear, but how can she when Don is playing havoc with her libido?

No one does short, sexy books better than Sloane Taylor! She combines sensual romance with mystery and intrigue and comes up smelling of roses. Sweet and sassy. Five red roses, Morna

An interview with author, Paul Mann.

Thank you, Paul Mann, for agreeing to an interview on Eternal Press Blog. We’re pleased to have you with us.

EP: When did you seriously sit down, and say to yourself, I’m going to write a novel?

Paul: I have never had to confront that question, I have only ever written short stories like Spam. I’m a slow writer and even a short story takes me ages, so the thought of having to produce fifty thousand words for a novel would freak me out. Although I have almost completed a twenty thousand word long short story. I guess you could call it a novella.

EP: What do you find the most difficult to write? Dialogue? Back story?

Paul: I find it quite difficult to write good dialogue. Recently, I was asked to write a short play. I adapted one of my short stories and discovered I had to think of actors delivering lines. Thinking that way helped my dialogue. Now when I write a story, I try to imagine my characters as actors.

EP: Have you ever found that you didn’t like your Hero or your Heroine? If so, what did you do to change that?

Paul: I don’t ever like or dislike my main characters. I think they all need to evolve the way we do through life. In Spam, my main character Edwin starts out as a bit of a drip, but I hope through the course of the story he matures and becomes a more complex, likeable character.

EP: If you were to start again, with the knowledge you have now, what would be the first thing you do?

Paul: Hindsight is a wonderful thing, but a waste of time ruminating on. When I started, my reasons for writing were different to what motivates me at present. I have only just started writing seriously (about three years), and don’t have much hindsight to draw on.

EP: Do you have the support of friends and family? Meaning, do they understand when you are writing that you cannot be disturbed? Or do you have friends that think since you’re home, you don’t work?

Paul: Before I began to write seriously, I painted and taught art for thirty years, so my family has always supported me. They are quite familiar with me working from home on various artistic pursuits. My friends are generally artists and also have no problem with the way I work. However acquaintances outside the artistic field rarely think what I do is work. On the other hand I don’t regard what they often do as genuine work either.

EP: What was the biggest hurtle you had to overcome in your career?

Paul: Getting published. Over two years of rejection notes for numerous short stories I sent out was a pain. However I have read that all writers have suffered in this respect, so I guess I just had to pay my dues like everyone else.

EP: What genre do you write? Do you write more than one, if so, what?

Paul: I don’t think about fitting a particular genre when I sit down to write. I tend to just go were ever an idea takes me. I like to call what I write ‘speculative fiction.’ When others read my stories they refer to them as horror, so I guess my genre is horror.

EP: How do you research for your books?

Paul: I use the internet to search out subjects I’m unfamiliar with, and then I do a lot of reading, both fiction and non-fiction.

EP: How do you develop your characters?

Paul: My characters tend to develop as I write. They fill out to fit the drama of the situation I imagine for them. I constantly observe and take note of people and their behavior. I did this in the past when finding subjects to populate my paintings, and I continue to do the same with my writing.

EP: Are any of your characters a person you’d like to be? If so which one?

Paul: Most of my characters are usually involved in some pretty hair-raising adventures, so I would prefer to leave them in my imagination, rather than try and emulate them in real life. I prefer a more sedate lifestyle.

EP: Who inspired you to write?

Paul: When my daughter fell ill and had to return home, and I discovered she was allergic to the smell of oil and turpentine, I switched my attention to the less odorous endeavor of writing. I started writing poetry to go with my paintings, and after a while the poetry developed into prose and eventually short stories. Reading authors such as; Stephen King, Raymond Chandler, Peter Temple and Shane Maloney inspire me to write better.

EP: What is the most humorous writing experience you’ve ever had?

Paul: Having to call the fire brigade when my fingers jammed between the keys of an old Olivetti— No just kidding.

EP: If a new writer came to you for advice what would you tell them?

Paul: Write and read as much and as regularly as you can, is the only advice that counts.

EP: Do you have a book coming out? If so what? Do you have a web site? Do you have a blog? My space?

Paul: Spam is my first short story to be published by EP. I hope readers enjoy it. I hope EP will be interested in publishing my next.
I have no web site, blog or My Space page as yet.

Thank you for taking the time to answer our questions for the Eternal Press blog. Good luck with your writing.

Interview with Kim Richards

Thank you, Kim Richards, for agreeing to an interview on Eternal Press Blog.

EP:

When did you seriously sit down, and say to yourself, I’m going to write a novel?

Author:

I’ve been writing in one form or another most of my life. After my first marriage broke up, I decided I wanted to take writing seriously. Then I found out how much I still needed to learn so I went back to school and took journalism, started attending conferences and reading everything how-to I could get my hands on. I’ve been lucky to have found mentors online and some great critique groups along the way.


EP:

What do you find the most difficult to write? Dialogue? Back story?

Author:

The most difficult for me are transitions from one scene to another. I often get my point of view mixed up there in the first draft.

EP:

Have you ever found that you didn’t like your Hero or your Heroine? If so, what did you do to change that?

Author:

I’ve never experienced that. I have had a secondary character end up being my protagonist after I got to know the characters a little better.

EP:

If you were to start again, with the knowledge you have now, what would be the first thing you do?

Author:

I wouldn’t let anyone discourage me and I’d not let making money replace the writing. For me writing is something I need to cope with depression so it’s more than just an occupation. It’s my life and I need it.

EP:

Do you have the support of friends and family? Meaning, do they understand when you are writing that you cannot be disturbed? Or do you have friends that think since you’re home, you don’t work?

Author:

I do now and it’s wonderful. My previous mother-in-law used to ask when I was getting a ‘real job’ and I took business classes because I believed others who did not find writing an occupation. I’ve had to make it important to ME and shrug off what others think. And yes, when my sons were young, many of their friends’ parents would send their kids to my house after school. You simply learn to deal with it. I figured at least I knew where my sons were at, even if the house regularly got trashed.

The best thing I did for writing is get a ‘do not disturb sign’. I haven’t had to use it in years but it does get the point across when you can hang it on the door and just point to it when you are interrupted. At first people laugh; then they get the point.

EP:

What was the biggest hurtle you had to overcome in your career?

Author:

Taking myself seriously and believing my writing worthy.

EP:

What genre do you write? Do you write more than one, if so, what?

Author: I write mainly horror, fantasy and some science fiction. However, if an idea comes, it doesn’t matter what genre it is. Sometimes you don’t see it in your story. I wrote a children’s book back in 2000, thinking of a fantasy market. It was another author who saw it as a kids book. It was published that way.

Death Masks is a thriller. When I wrote it, I had horror in mind. It wasn’t until I started to submit it, that I realized where it best fit. You have to write the story and then worry about what mail slot it fits in.

EP:

How do you research for your books?
Author: I love research and have to be very careful or I spend more time doing that than writing the actual story. I start online but am picky about my resources. If a website doesn’t list resources of its own, I tend to skip it unless there’s a bit of information I think I need...but I focus the research on finding supporting documents (or the lack thereof). I always end up with new books on my shelf when I research. I’m full of what my sons refer to as “useless trivia”.

EP:

How do you develop your characters?

Author:

My stories usually start with a what if. When I start world building and researching, the characters form on their own from the culture, the setting—it often falls into place naturally.

EP:

Are any of your characters a person you’d like to be? If so which one?

Author:

Lots of them. They’re usually stronger or smarter or more admirable than I am.

EP:

Who inspired you to write?
Author: Many, many people. An 8th grade teacher who taught me to write my dreams in a notebook; a high school teacher who taught me to journal; authors I’ve met; hokey stories I thought I could write better. It amazes me how there are many more people who do inspire me to write than discourage me, yet in the past it was the negative ones I listened to. Maybe they talk louder.

EP:

What is the most humorous writing experience you’ve ever had?

Author:

Meeting a man in an elevator at World Horror Convention. He saw my name tag and had read my science fiction novel out at the time. He lectured me on how I killed off his favorite character.

EP:

If a new writer came to you for advice what would you tell them?

Author:

Perseverance. Wrap it around your shoulders and tie it tight.

EP:

Do you have a book coming out? If so what? Do you have a web site? Do you have a blog? My space?

Author:

Death Masks is available from Eternal Press. I also have a story out in an anthology of dragon stories by another publisher.

Check out the trailer for Death Masks. The metal band is from my home town, Roswell, New Mexico. You can watch it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lp2zpDNMfmM

My website is: http://www.kim-richards.com/ I’ll be doing a virtual book tour in June, 2008 so check there for the blog visit schedule. There will be prizes!

You can find me at Myspace, Livejournal, Facebook, Blogger, Good Reads and Writer’s Chatroom. All under the username Kim Richards.

I do have one announcement I’d like to make. I’ve just accepted the position of Marketing Manager for Eternal Press. I’m thrilled to be accepted on the team and excited about the upcoming possibilities for me and for the publishing house.


We are very lucky to have you Kim.
Thank you for taking the time to answer our questions for the Eternal Press blog. Good luck with your writing and your sucess here at Eternal Press.

Please Pass The Spice...XX

...And please pass your opinion. What makes a romance erotic? Erotica pornographic? And a "hot story" worth the title of erotica?

I've seen this question time and again recently, on discussion groups and loops, live chats and even private messaging. Readers and writers want to know...what IS erotica? How much sex should there be, how often, and when in the story should it first show up?

Though one of the fastest growing genres in the industry today, it seems publishing has yet to establish a gold standard definition so that readers browsing the erotica section, or authors interested in writing it, will know exactly what they're in for. A red-hot reader PM'd me last night to, among other things, express frustration over the fact that when buying two "erotica" titles, the level of sensuality and tone of the stories were worlds apart.

I've followed such discussions with interest for some time now, and in the course of my studies have seen the following "definitions" of erotica:

1. A story where the entire plot falls apart without the sexual element (i.e., vampires who must perform a sex act to consummate a feed or turning, etc.)
2. Stories where sex occurs by the end of the first chapter and frequently thereafter
3. A story where the "buzz" words used to describe body parts and acts are graphic
4. A sexually graphic story with no "Happily Ever After. Romance ends happily; erotica does not. (This, btw, is a defition given by Harlequin.)
5. Stories with detailed sexual situations between characters who aren't emotionally involved
6. Stories involving non-traditional sexual situations (menage au, BDSM, etc.)

There you have it...a half dozen different definitions, just off the top of my head. Which is correct? Can an erotica story end with "Happily Ever After" for the characters? Must the story open with someone naked and/or blindfolded? Does the shift from "sweet" terms to "all out" make the difference?

I posted a poll on my website at LisaLogan.net asking YOUR thoughts on what makes erotica erotic,and I'd love to see some opinions and discussion here! When you write a story, what makes you decide you're writing "erotica?" When you're browsing erotica titles to read, what level of sexuality are you expecting? SHOULD there be some kind of standard genre defintion, like there is for romance and mystery and historicals? Or should the range be as varied and wild as the act it portrays? Sound off!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lisa Logan's Eternal Press Releases include A GRAND SEDUCTION, TWISTED FAYRIE TALES, PARANORMAL BEDTIME STORIES,and TWIST OF FATE. She is also a contributing editor for Eternal Press, does a flash fiction flash ezine for MysteryAuthors.com, and is the founder of the Green Writing Challenge.

Death Masks: A serial murderer thriller by Kim Richards

Blurb:
Bill Cristo takes up walking a per his doctor’s orders to lose weight and improve his health. While at the metro park, he witnesses an assault. The assailant turns on him and he wakes in the hospital with a nasty bump on his head, wondering why he isn’t dead.

The news reports nothing on any attack in the metro park but Bill can’t let it go...not when he realizes there are other young men missing from the same area. He digs up what he can on his own, drawing further attention from the murderer. Will he be able to figure out who the killer is before it reaches his live-in girlfriend?

Excerpt:

“Shhh. Please listen.” Her words dropped to a trembling whisper.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m scared.”
Bill hesitated a moment, thinking she might go on.
“Bill?” She sounded so small and vulnerable. He immediately wanted to reach out through the phone and pull her close. He longed to make whatever it was better.
“I’m here, Hon. What’s going on?” He shut down his computer as he talked.
“Someone keeps calling me.” Once she started speaking, her words came fast and clipped. “At first he kept hanging up. No heavy breathing or anything so I decided it must be those kids next door.”
“He? How do you know it’s a guy?” Bill used one hand to hold the phone and the other to begin stuffing his things into his carry bag.
“Because…” Dampened, low sounds came over the phone.
Oh God, she’s crying.
“Because I know what a man's voice sounds like. This last time, just a minute ago, he said I’m next.”
“Next for what?” As Bill said the words, he’d already guessed the answer. All the clues were in place, the footprints on the porch, the maniac figuring out Bill knew about him, and now the calls to Dix. He didn’t hear her answer.

Death Masks available from Eternal Press. ISBN#: 978-0-9804739-4-0
Book Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lp2zpDNMfmM

The Mystery of A Grand Seduction

The plan was perfect:

Step 1: Set up naughty husbands with affairs
Step 2: Play Candid Camera
Step 3: Take a cut of the settlement money from the grateful ex-wives

...a plan perfected when Ridelle, Twyla, and Dominique help Fran get out of her own crappola marriage.

The Wednesday lunch group at Odette's thinks they've got all the makings of a grand seduction scheme...until a bullet and a murder mystery tears through the perfect plan.

Like Desperate Housewives? You'll Love
A GRAND SEDUCTION
Now available from Eternal Press

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lisa Logan is the author of A GRAND SEDUCTION, VISIONS, and several anthologies and short stories. She is the editor of MysteryAuthors.com and for Eternal Press, and founded the Green Writing Challenge.

The Vampire Family, New Excerpt!

Hello Pale Peeps!

Getting into the spirit of things with the Paranormal Day at the Eternal Press Authors Blog, I've decided to post a new excerpt from The Vampire Family! This story within the story is a bit lengthy to hog the EP blog, so I've posted the entire selection at The Vampire Family's blog, http://vampfam.blogspot.com.

Victoria is Vampire Family patriarch Antonio's youngest daughter. His favorite is ruthless, cunning and evil just like him. What Victoria wants, Victoria gets-no matter what the human costs....

Enjoy!

***

The Vampire Family, spanking new excerpt to tempt ya!

St. Louis, 1876

Victoria arrived fresh from an eight-year sleep—recuperation from a little incident back in North Carolina. She stepped off the train wearing a fashionable silk red dress customary to the time, right down to the lace trimmed hat and gloves. Victoria always made a fashion statement—anytime, anywhere.

Theodore sat on a bench by the telegraph office—young, alone, crying. He wore only rags, and there was a little carpetbag on the ground next to him.

“Are you all right?” Victoria walked to him.

This boy could be something special!

“My father told me never to talk to strangers.”

“Well.” Victoria unbuttoned and removed her gloves. She offered her hand to Theodore and sat down on the bench next to him. “My name is Victoria. And your name is?”

“Theodore.” He blew his nose. “Theodore Plunkett.” He blew his nose again. He shook Victoria’s hand, and she tried not to show her disgust at his snot’s newfound place on her hand.

Victoria cleared her throat. “Well, now, Theodore, we’re not strangers any more, are we?”

“No, I guess not.”

Fifteen?

“Now.” She handed him her handkerchief. “What is the matter?”

“My father died recently, and I’ve come to live with my great aunt.”

“You sound like you don’t want to live with your aunt.” Victoria smiled. “Would you like to come live with me instead?”

“My great aunt is expecting me in an hour.” Theodore checked his gold pocket watch.

“Theodore, would you rather live with me?”

You want to live with me. You do.

“Well.” Theodore paused for a moment. “Yes’um. You’re much nicer than that old hag. Prettier, too.”

He’s much too young. I already made that mistake with Angelo.

“Then, it’s settled. You’re coming to live with me.” Victoria put her arm around Theodore and smiled.

“What about the old hag?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of her.”

* * *

Victoria crept out of the mansion she “inherited.” She wore all black, a simply cut nightgown and cape. Nothing like what the time period indicated. The old hag’ s house was a few miles away, and Victoria reached the home in good time. The house was big, very big.

Why didn’t I pick her as my benefactor?

She breathed out deeply, and Victoria watched the cloud of gas disappear into the night. She looked up at the smoke coming from the chimney and smiled. Victoria relaxed and turned herself into the mist. Victoria wasn’t even sure how she did it, but she did know that for some reason, only she and James shared this strange power. Where she had altered her dark powers for deception, James seemed to gain the ability through his shyness and desire to be invisible.

The mist made its way up into the sky. It circled around and climbed up the chimney, then spiraled down its opening. Down it went brick by brick until the mist came out into a quaint little living room. The old hag Auntie sat in the rocking chair by the window, knitting an ugly sweater. The mist swiveled around the chair, and good old Auntie paid it no mind. The mist went through the old hag, wrapping itself around her windpipe. It squeezed. It pulled. It twisted. The hag coughed and cackled violently. The mist pushed, twisted, squeezed harder and harder. The gagging and gurgles continued. The mist further strengthened its grip, and then there was silence. Old Auntie was dead.

* * *

Victoria never told Theodore what happened, and he never asked. For three years, the two of them lived together in the mansion, and Victoria even legally bought a shop that made coffins. It somehow fit and amused her. For those three years, Theodore never questioned, but then he began to wonder. Victoria spent much time with the dead patrons when they first arrived and was very . . . well . . . hands on with the bodies.

“How come you never eat with me?” Theodore asked one evening. The two of them sat at the ornate dinner table. “All I ever see you digest is the wine.”

Theodore continued his display of evidence. “My father used to say grace before we ate, but you never do. You give me everything I ask for, and I have the finest teachers, but…”

Victoria was angry. “But what? I give you everything you want and more. You have the finest education money can buy, and I do not have to explain myself to you.”

“Yes, the money. Where does it all come from? You never work beyond your toying with the dead. The coffin shop doesn—”

“I have a large inheritance.”

“I didn’t ask you to explain yourself.”

“I’m not going to, either.” Victoria crossed her arms. Theodore was just too inquisitive.

“Are you paranoid?”

Victoria stood up and flung the table over. The chairs tipped, and the dishes shattered. Theodore was stunned—such anger. Such power.

“What are you hiding from me?” he whispered.

* * *

Shortly after, on his nineteenth birthday, Theodore received his answer. The sun just set on the cold winter day in 1880.

“Victoria!” Theodore called her and hung his snow covered outer garments on the coat rack. Hat, gloves, scarf, cloak. Victoria came around the corner, dressed in a short-sleeved gown. Theodore spoke to her in Latin.

“I see you have been keeping up on your studies.” She took his books and set them on a nearby table. “I have to tell you something.”

“Can it wait?” Theodore reached for the books. “I have a quiz on Medieval English tomorrow. I must study.”

“You do not need to study. You won’t be tutored any more. Come, this way, please.”

Victoria led the shocked and confused Theodore to the lone tree in the backyard. Theodore felt the chilling winds and high snow, yet he noticed Victoria seemed unaffected. Wearing s ans gloves, Victoria dug through the snow beneath the tree and felt the cold door handle below. Theodore watched in amazement. Victoria yanked open the snow covered door, pulled out an oil lamp, and lit it smoothly.

The light shined on a set of stairs, and the stone steps seemed to lead even farther into darkness. Victoria led the way down the steps, and Theodore followed. Once he was clear of the door, it slammed shut and locked. Theodore saw the small bolt on the inside of the door.

How could she have opened the door from the outside if it was locked on the inside?

***

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Kristin
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