End of Summer

It's the end of September which means the end of summer and the beginning of fall.

Of course, where I live, it's hard to tell the changing of the seasons. The San Francisco Bay Area has so many different micro climates it allows a person to drive 20 miles and the temp can change anywhere from 10-30 degrees. I always dress in layers for this reason. But I don't mind.

With the passing of summer also comes football season, it's one of my favorite times of year. I love watching NFL games on Sunday, Monday and later in the season Thursdays. I also occasionally watch college football on Saturdays.

So do you have a favorite season of the year?

Guest Today: Katherine Grey

Today my guest is Katherine Grey. Welcome Katherine, glad to have you here.

Tell us a little about yourself:

I was born and have lived in upstate NY my entire life, though as the years go by, I hate the NY winters that seem to last eight months out of the year more and more. I’ve always had a vivid imagination and loved books from a very early age. As I grew older, I found myself reimagining books and movies with endings I wanted, rather than they way they really were. These daydreams soon led me to start putting pen to paper and writing my own stories. Please come and learn more about me at my blog. http://katherinegrey.blogspot.com

What do you like the most and the least about writing?

I love the heady feeling of getting those initial first pages down of a new story. I also love when the characters start taking on lives of their own, taking me down paths I hadn’t originally intended for them. (Okay, sometimes I hate this too.) What I like least is revision even though I do at least two revisions per manuscript. Sometimes, I can get too caught up in rewriting a scene, trying to follow all those “rules” that are drilled in your head when you’re first starting out and end up feeling like I’ve revised the life right out of it.

Give us a peek into your latest published work:

Impetuous is a historical romance set in the Regency period. It’s my debut novel and was released through The Wild Rose Press on August 26^th.

Here’s the blurb:

Mateo de Montayas, an impoverished Spanish count, comes to England to recover a stolen family heirloom and to satisfy his hunger for revenge against the man who destroyed his family. Arriving in London, he learns his hated enemy died three years before but has left behind a daughter. What better way to retrieve the heirloom and exact revenge than to use her to his advantage?

Teresa Darlington will do anything to keep scandal away from her frail mother and prove her father wasn't a thief, even risk her reputation in a race to find the missing heirloom before the Count does. But she didn't count on falling in love with the man determined to ruin her family. Can she find the heirloom before he does and protect her family, or will her heart lead her in a different direction?

What’s next on the writing horizon for you?

I currently have a novella involving a secondary character from Impetuous under consideration with The Wild Rose Press. I’m working on two separate writing projects right now. One is another historical romance and the other set in the present day so it’s easy to switch from one manuscript to the other.

Is there anything you want to tell readers?

I try to encourage readers to give new authors a try (and not just because I am one.) I’ve read some really great books written by first time authors who have gone on to achieve great things. I’d also like to thank everyone for their support.

Excerpt:

This is a short scene from the beginning of the book.

With hatred running hot and molten through his veins, Mateo de Montayas stared at the stately mansion across the street. The windows were aglow with light. Laughter and music spilled out to fill the night air. He shifted position under the shadowy oak tree hoping to catch sight of his quarry. The high and mighty English baronet who celebrated inside had destroyed his family.

Mateo slipped the miniature portrait from his breast pocket. A thin leather cord wrapped around his fingers as he gazed into the eyes of the laughing beauty pictured there.

“I couldn’t help you then...” The pain of failure threatened to overwhelm him. He shoved it down, deep down into a dark place in his soul. He took a deep breath, fighting the anger that rose within. “I will make him pay for your death.” His fingers closed around the small oval. “I swear it, Madre. I swear it.”

Links:

Here are the links to purchase Impetuous.

The Wild Rose Press click here

Amazon click here

Barnes & Noble click here

Thank you, Marie for having me. It’s been a pleasure visiting with you.

Guest Blogger Jannine Corti Petska

Today my guest is Jannine Corti Petska and she's talking about her current release.

Tell us a little about yourself:

I’m a typical Italian mother and grandmother who dotes on her family and protects them fiercely. I’m half Sicilian and have a devilish temper, which no one in the writing community knows about or has seen. There’s always a charge there, and I believe it’s the reason my heroes are terribly stubborn, ornery and downright irascible. But they all have a good heart. My heroines are fairly high strung and temperamental as well.

If you’d like to read more about me, my bio can be found on my website: www.jcortipetska.com.

What do like the most and the least about writing?

I’d have to say I like the aloneness. I like being home, working on a book, playing with my three Rat Terriers, puttering around in my garden. The solitude helps me concentrate better.

What I don’t like is the aloneness. Dogs can’t hold a conversation. I can only do so much in the garden. And when I hit a road block in my current book, I can take just so much of losing myself in housework or something else that might stimulate my brain. Usually, I’ll go window-shopping for a change of scenery. I’ll grab a Starbucks now and then.

Give us a peek into your latest published work?

THE LILY AND THE FALCON is the first book in my four-book Italian medieval series. It’s set in 15^th century Florence and delves into the tug-of-war between two powerful families for control over Florence. It was first published by Kensington in 2000.

When Cristiano de' Medici asks for Bianca degli Albizzi's hand in marriage, she is outraged. Cristiano's family has long been a sworn enemy, and her father's blessing confuses her. Wed only to end the war between Florence's two powerful families, headstrong Bianca vows she will teach her handsome husband her loyalty cannot be bought...even by someone so seductive.

Cristiano, a well-known warrior with the wealth of a king, could have any woman he desires. But for the sake of peace, he ends up with a defiant bride who awakens his deepest passion. Her vengeful scheming puts them both in peril, but is he willing to sacrifice his life to safeguard the woman he loves?

What’s next on the writing horizon for you?

I’m researching book 4 of my Italian medieval series, after which I’ll research and write book 3 of my medieval psychic sisters trilogy. After that, I haven’t decided yet. There is a notebook filled with notes on over 20 different stories I’d like to write. And I have a shelf of plastic file bins with about 7 other stories I had started researching and abandoned. Then there’s the 8 or so manuscripts I’d like to rewrite. So there’s no shortage of work. However, after I’m finished with my medieval trilogy next year, I will then decide whether or not I want to continue writing. It’s a tough decision to make, but at this point in my life, it’s something that must be considered.

Is there anything you want to tell readers?

I’d love to hear from you. My contact information is on my website.

Excerpt from The Lilly and the Falcon

This short scene is from an outing Cristiano de’ Medici and his betrothed, Bianca degli Albizzi, take. Prior, their conversation had drifted to his previous lovers.

“May I see your hand?”

When he hesitated, she took it anyway and turned it palm up.

“What fetish is this?” he demanded, uncertain of the puzzling grooves that suddenly invaded her features.

“I am reading your lines.” He tried to take his hand away, but she held fast. “You are mischievous by nature, a knave and a thief.”

“I am not a thief,” he objected.

She gave him a coy look. “Mayhap not of property or belongings, but of hearts, I propose.”

He scowled. “Are we back to my lovers again?”

“No, my sensitive lord.” She brushed the underside of his fingers, causing a shiver to race recklessly up and down his spine. “Your long fingers and broad palm reveal much of your character.”

“Explain this witchery,” he commanded, taking back his hand.

“Reading the palm is a science,” she told him with a slight frown. “Many Florentines seek the advice of seers and palm readers, though none would readily admit to it. Know this, my lord. Were I a witch, I would cast a spell on you.”

Then witch she was. What other explanation had he for his obsession with Bianca degli Albizzi?

Buy links:

Digital click here

Paperback click here

Thanks for being here today Jannine.

5 Hearts and I you wouldn't mind

I don't do this very often because I don't like to impose on my followers. I'm way excited about this so here goes.

The Romance Studio reviewed Quick Silver Ranch: Saddle Up and it received 5 Hearts. I could barely believe it.

If you'd like to go read the review click here

Here's the, if you wouldn't mind. Because I did get 5 Hearts from them I'm part of their Sweetheart vote, if I win I get on the front page of the website which would be totally cool.

So if you don't mind, click here and vote for Saddle Up.

Thanks and have a wonderful week.

The Learning Continues

I've learned, I can never stop learning.

As funny as that sounds, I find that no matter how many times I've heard a workshop topic, or ask someone questions about something, I can always learn something news.

For those of you who read my books, I have a very light BDSM theme in my erotic romance books. So when the chance to take some classes give by Dr. Charley Ferrer was given to me, I jumped at it.

And I've learned so much and I'm not even half way through the classes yet. This made me realize, there is always something new to learn in writing.

I've heard other writers say "there's nothing new for me to learn." But I've never taken that attitude. In order to keep your writing fresh, your perspective new and keep the brain active, you need to look at things in a new way, or at least that's how I feel.

Just by taking these few classes, the ideas for more books are bouncing around in my brain. I have characters wanting me to tell their stories next (so many characters so little time.) And I'm loving every second of this, because it tells me I'm on the right track.

If you curious about the BDSM world let me recommend two books for you, both written by Dr. Charley Ferrer.

BDSM The Naked Truth - this is for anyone interested in what the BDSM lifestyle is

BDSM for Writers - this is for writers

As I writer I'm finding both fascinating and helping me portray my characters more realistically.

Have a great week.

Author Icy Snow Blackstone

Today I welcome author Icy Snow Blackstone

Tell us a little about yourself:

Thanks for having me on your site, Marie. Here’s my “official” biography: Icy Snow Blackstone was born in1802, in northern Georgia where her father, the Reverend John Blackstone, was prominent in local politics. She married a minister, raised at least seven children, one of whom also became a minister, and lived there all her life. Two hundred and five years later, her great-great-great-great-granddaughter began using her name as a pseudonym for her romance novels. The present Icy Snow Blackstone (that’s me!) lives far from her Southern roots in Lincoln, Nebraska, where’s she’s a practicing grandmother, artist, photographer…and writer.

What do you like the most and the least about writing?

Other than actually writing the story, I like talking about it. By that, I mean going over the plot with a fellow writer, hashing out the problems with scenes or dialogue. That’s a good way to discover what you’re doing wrong and also to get help with places in the story that are being difficult to write. I have a friend who also writes and she and I do this all the time. It really helps.

What don’t I like? Mainly, waiting to get the next story started! Guess I’m an “assembly line” writer. Once I put “The End” on a story, I can’t wait to go on to the next one and get it in the computer.

Give us a peek into your latest published work?

My newest novel is scheduled for a September released through Class Act Books. It’s entitled Runaway Brother, and I consider it a fun read. I enjoyed writing it and I hope people have as much fun reading it. Since it’s set in the South, I didn’t do all that much research about the geography of the story, and I also used a lot of the knowledge I accumulated while working in San Juan Capistrano where the Mission famous for its swallows is located. I worked in the Trading Post there, where Native American jewelry, pottery, and figurines are sold. Since one of my characters is a former rodeo cowboy who now collects Acoma pottery, I used a lot of that information in the book. Other things I had to look up: Arabian horses and motorcycles…two methods of transportation my hero comes in contact with (in more ways than one) in his ride through the South.

Here’s the blurb:

At the age of twenty-two, newly-graduated Nicolo Liguori is forced by his three brothers to become care-giver for his father, who suffered multiple strokes. For the next ten years, Nick gives up his own ambitions , working during the day in the family jewelry business in Vanderhoek, New York, and returning to the Liguori mansion every night, to be at his father’s beck-and-call. Then Papa dies and Nick is free…or is he? Carlo, Marco, and Pietro expect him to continue life as usual, but Nick has other ideas. Secretly buying a motorcycle, he starts to work one day and… disappears.

Nick gets as far as the southern coast of Georgia before an accident disables his bike. Stranded, with no idea of the South except what he’s seen on TV, Nick isn’t certain what kind of reception he’s going to get. Then, a pretty Southern miss and a white tank disguised as a temperamental horse named Shazam change his life as they and the citizens of Oceano teach a runaway Yankee about life and love in a small Georgia town.

What’s next on the writing horizon for you?

I’ve several writing projects open at the moment and I haven’t chosen which to pursue yet. One is another novel in the Three Moon futuristic romance series, or possibly another entry in a new series, Lovers of Leonesse, which follows the development of a fictional country through the romances of its young people.

Is there anything you want to tell readers?

Just be on the look-out for Runaway Brother. I should have a trailer featured on Youtube.com some time soon.

EXCERPT from Runaway Brother:

He was paying so much attention to the scenery he didn’t realize the coast-road had narrowed considerably and turned to dirt. Looking around, Nick saw trees on both sides, short-leaf pine mixed with sugarberry and water oak and the only reason he recognized them was because the Liguori estate had a small grove on the property filled with the same trees. Along one side ran a fence with barbed wire strung between high thick posts painted black with creosote. Behind that was a meadow filled with purple flowers, stretching into another stand of trees on the other side.

From far off to his right came a faint sound as if someone was beating a drum.

Nick raised his head, looking around, then gave a loud sigh of exasperation. Okay! So I’m lost! He’d just follow the road to wherever it went, probably to some farmer’s front yard. When he got there, he’d apologize, turn around and get himself back to the main drag. If he could find it.

A broken branch loomed ahead, and he turned his attention to it, guiding the bike around it. The drumming came closer.

A second branch and several twigs littered the roadway. Nick was so concerned with maneuvering around them he didn’t see the horse sail over the fence, wasn’t even aware it was there until he looked up and found the white shape almost directly in front of him.

He jerked the wheel to the right, forgetting to apply the rear brakes first. The bike skidded, its back wheel rising off the ground as the front one stopped rolling. He had a brief vision of the animal leaping forward, its rider clinging to its back, wide, frightened blue eyes, flying blonde hair...

The motorcycle went off the road, sliding into the ditch and running up the other side, the front fender striking one of the fence posts. It bounced and rebounded, and Nick went flying over the handlebars, flipping in mid-air and hitting the same post with his back. The bike wavered a moment, then toppled onto its side. Nick slid down the post, landing upside down in the ditch, his shoulders crushing coffeeweed into an aromatic mass.

The pounding hooves stopped. He heard running footsteps, opened his eyes and saw someone running toward him. He closed them again.

“Are you hurt?”

This time when he opened his eyes, he was staring at the upside-down face of a very pretty girl, at least she’d have been pretty if her face wasn’t screwed into such a dismayed scowl.

“Am I hurt?” He managed a growl as he slid further into the weeds and rolled over. “I just hit a fence and got tossed into a ditch! What do you think?” Clambering to his knees, while she plucked ineffectually at one arm, he jerked out of her grasp. “I can get up by my— Ow!”

He’d gotten upright, took a step, and his leg buckled, turning at the ankle. He sat down a little quicker than he intended, back into the weeds again as he ran a hand down his boot to touch his ankle. He could feel angry throbs of heat pulsing through it.

“Maledicta quella ferita!”

“Here.” She slid into the ditch, offering a hand. Reluctantly he took it, being careful not to put too much weight behind it as he let her pull him to his feet. He could see she was worried and he really wasn’t hurt all that bad, but he was angry because she’d been so reckless.

Jerking away, he demanded, “What the Hell’s the matter with you? Jumping in front of me like that! If I’d hit that horse--”

“What are you doing riding this road? This is private property.”

She was too pretty for him to pretend to stay angry, so he toned it down, answering her question. “I got lost. I only wanted to find the end of the road and turn around.”

“You have a way to go. The house is about a quarter of a mile that way.” She nodded toward a group of pines thrust into the road, hiding the rest of it from sight. Nick looked in that direction, then back at her. She, in turn, looked at the motorcycle, still on its side in the weeds. “You seem okay. Is that hurt?”

He limped over and inspected it. The front fender was smashed and ripped upwards. The tire has an impact-split in it and the spokes were bent and twisted. That isn’t too bad, he told himself. Jojo had given him a basic tool set and a crash course in Motorcycle Care 101. I can straighten the spokes and the fender. Get a new tire and be on my-- Hold it! The headlight was smashed, hanging out of the socket like a dislocated eyeball, and the clutch cable... Somehow it had been severed.

“Well?” She appeared to be awaiting his diagnosis.

“Gas tank’s got a hole in it, clutch cable’s severed. Is there a motorcycle shop around here?”

“No, but Marshall’s in town can probably repair it. He does everything from lawn mowers to farm machinery.”

Oh Lord, deliver me from small town handymen! He was about to tell her he didn’t want Marshall touching his bike when he realized, What else am I going to do? Do you have a better idea, Mr. Runaway?

“So which way is town?” He straightened, looked around as if expecting to see the city limits a few feet away.

“Too far for you to push that thing,” she answered, gesturing at the front wheel. “Not with it twisted like that.”

“What do I do then, Miss Not-So-Helpful? Since this is your fault--”

“My fault?” Hands went to her hips. And deliciously slim ones they were, too. Nick had a moment to think she looked anything but angry, though it was apparent she thought she did. Cute, maybe. Hell, he might even say adorable with those blonde wisps floating around her face, but angry? Nope! “Who’s the trespasser? Who had his head down, studying the ground when he should’ve been looking straight ahead?”

“You weren’t ahead of me,” he countered. “You and that white tank of yours jumped a fence and came in from the side.”

She stared at him, taking a deep breath and getting ready for some type of vitriolic response. Memories of The Dukes of Hazzard and how the Duke Boys always verbally got the best of Boss Hawg came into his mind. Well, this Daisy Duke wasn’t getting the best of him. He wouldn’t allow it.

“Never mind. Just let me get the bike upright and point me in the right direction, and…”

“I’ll do no such thing.” That made him stare at her, wondering if she was going to walk away, mount her white steed, and leave him stranded knee-deep in Kudzu or whatever-the-Hell these weeds were. “I’ll ride back to the house and get my grandpa’s truck. We’ll put the motorcycle in it.”

She clambered up the bank, running toward the horse now grazing on the other side of the road. Catching the reins and a handful of mane, she swung into the horse’s back--very gracefully, Nick noted--then turned the animal’s head and trotted it back to him.

He liked the way the jolting gait made her breasts bounce under the jersey tee. Damn, they’re perky little things! Che pezzeta saporita! He forced himself to hide his appreciation. Barely stopped his tongue from coming out and licking his lower lip. Hoped he wasn’t drooling.

“You stay right there,” she told him. “I’ll be back in a jif!” She kicked the horse in the ribs and sent it galloping down the road.

He liked the way her butt bounced, too.

They dodged a tree limb, took the turn and vanished from sight, though he heard the sound of hoofbeats for a few minutes more.

Nick turned his attention back to the V-Rod. It hadn’t moved. Did he expect it to get up and limp over to him like a dog with a hurt paw, whimpering for sympathy? Shaking his head, he leaned against the edge of the ditch, back against a fencepost.

Welcome South, Brother!

Thanks for being here today, Icy.

Guest Today: Toni Sweeney

Welcome to my Blog Toni.

Tell us a little about yourself:

Thanks for allowing me this interview, Marie. Now, for that autobiography. As the old joke goes…Got 5 minutes? (Grin). Let’s see…I was born in the South, spent 30 years in the Midwest, a decade on the Pacific Coast, and am now trying for a second 30 years on the Great Plains. I’ve a Bachelors in Art, English literature, and drama, and a diploma in graphic art, and I spent quite a few years as a dancer before I had an auto accident which ended that portion of my career. Being bedridden for so long led directly to my becoming a writer. I write science fiction and fantasy, and under my pseudonym, Icy Snow Blackstone, I write romances.

What do like the most and the least about writing?

I like the actual writing of the story, getting that tale that’s whirling around inside my brain onto the computer screen where it becomes a tangible object, where the characters and the story finally come alive for me. I have a friend who’s also a writer and we spend a lot of time batting ideas back and forth, and sometimes one of us will simply tell the story while the other asks pertinent questions. That really helps.

What I don’t like: Proofing. I generally do about three drafts of a novel before I considered it “finished.” After going over a story that many times, though, I tend to gloss over mistakes and not see them because I’m too familiar with it. That’s when typos and continuity errors get left in. Usually I let a couple of weeks go by before I take a second look at a story. That way, I’ve had time to “forget” it a little and it isn’t still fresh in my mind. That makes it easier to spot errors.

Give us a peek into your latest published work?

My “latest” novel was published in February of this year, though I have a couple scheduled for this Fall. It’s called Wizard’s Wife. And it was released by Class Act Books. Click here for more information. It was a lot of fun to write because I had to do research on Irish faeries and other supernaturals, and I even include a wee bit of a Gaelic glossary at the end.

Here’s the blurb:

The Harmonic Convergence fast approaches and with it comes danger to the Earth and its people…

Cross the Magic Portal into Ais Linn, a dimension where unicorns roam and werewolves prowl… Where a faery wizard and his mortal bride battle the Lord of Dark Fire for possession not only of Ais Linn but of the Earth itself.

Newly-wed Megan McMuir is shocked to discover her husband is a faery, and not just any faery but the Champion of White Fire, sent to protect the Earth from invasion by dark wizard Exeter Dubhtina. As the Convergence begins and David is recalled to Ais Linn, Megan braves the Portal’s dangers to follow him. Soon, she finds herself a pawn in the fight against her husband. The threat from Exeter Dubhtina is a deadly one: Surrender and bow to me or watch your wife and unborn child die.

David has sworn to protect the Earth. Will he break his vows or lose Megan and their baby?

What’s next on the writing horizon for you?

I have two novels scheduled for release in the Fall by Class Act. One, For the Love in Adler’s Brain is a science fiction novella about a sweet young thing who hires a private eye to find her boyfriend’s brain. Oh, the boyfriend’s an android, by the way. The trouble begins when the PI falls in love with her, too. Now, which will it be: metal man or flesh-and-blood one? The other is a suspense-thriller romance entitled Blood Bay. (Think Cape Fear plus anything written by Tammy Hoag.) This one is set on an island near the Golden Isles off the coast of Georgia and is about how a young woman who fights back against an escaped prisoner who’s stalking her.

Those readers who follow my books will notice that many of them are set in the South or have Southerners figuring prominently in them.

Is there anything you want to tell readers?

I’d just like to thank everyone who has bought one of my books, especially those who’ve told me they’ve bought more than one! That makes me feel I’m doing something right. I’d also like to invite your readers to stop by my website. I just added a new sentence to the Home Page: “Dedicated to giving writers the promotion they need through blog, book review, and video.” It’s a promise I made to someone, a kind of “Pay it Forward”.

EXCERPT from Wizard’s Wife:

In this excerpt, David has just told Megan he’s a faery-wizard, and of course, she doesn’t believe him:

Damn it, Megan!” He made an angry gesture, slapping his hands against his thighs. “What can I do to make you believe me?”

“Prove it.” Call his bluff. There’s no way he can prove what he says is true. Perhaps that’ll snap him out of it.

“What?”

“You heard me. Prove to me you’re a faery, I mean a wizard. Go on. Show me how you look when you’re in Wizard-form, World-Champion-Defender-class.”

“All right.” He didn’t even pretend to think about it, just stalked a few feet away and turned back to face her. He thrust both hands in front of him, fingers outspread, palms toward his body.

“You’re serious.” Abruptly, Megan was frightened. He really thinks he’s some type of extra-terrestrial supernatural being. Oh, David!

“Damn right.” The hands moved apart, one above his head, the other hovering near his waist. He brought them together. They passed each other. “There! Would you be thinkin’ this better?”

Now it was Megan’s turn to stare.

Where David had been, there now stood an old man...a very old man...long snowy-white hair, longer snowy-white beard.

Merlin. She had no doubt of it. Wearing a black floor-sweeping robe spangled with crescent moons and stars. On the white hair perched a pointed cap, its peak so tall it had creased and fallen over under its own weight, the tip touching his shoulder.

“Who are you supposed to be?” She was out of the chair before she realized it, running toward him only to skid to a stop and approach a little more cautiously. “And where’s David?”

Merlin looked down at her.

“I’m David,” he informed her with a dignified British accent. “World-Champion-Defender-class wizard.”

“Hah!” Later, she would marvel at her ability to be so sarcastic. “You look more like the Wizard of Id.”

“My apologies, my darlin’.” Looking a little insulted, he swept her a bow that skimmed his sleeves across the carpet. “But is this na your idea o’ how a wizard should look?” He waggled a finger at her. “I’ve lived with you long enough to know how that cute little mind o’ yours works, Meggie.”

“David.” Briefly, her voice held infinite patience. I'll get angry later for that last remark. “Show me how you look. Really.”

“Very well.” The hands moved again, performing the same gesture. Merlin disappeared. David stood in his place.

David. But not David… Oh my God, this is definitely not my husband!

It was the same handsome face, Megan admitted, but changed. Thinner, paler. Copper brows winged above his eyes, not arching as they had before, but arrow-straight. And the eyes themselves... Green like David’s but...there’s no white in them. They were like an animal’s, the entire eye a deep green iris. That, however, wasn’t the most disturbing thing. Protruding from his forehead were antenna. Not butterfly-like but smoky, feathery tendrils floating in the air above his head. They wavered back and forth, like seaweed drifting in a stream, then stiffened and pointed in her direction.

As if they’ve sensed me...homing in...

He turned his head slightly, an ear twitching, and Megan stared. Nearly lobeless, peaked on top. Hello, Mr. Spock! The left one sported a small golden ring with an emerald set in it. She recognized it. It was her wedding present to him.

OK, so this is David… the real David... and I really don't have an argument with the way he looks, even with— I guess the main problem is the wings.

Dragonfly-like, they didn’t come from under his shoulder blades as she’d always suppose wings should, but grew on each side of his upper spine. Not the tiny things shown in drawings of fairies either, but equaling David’s height. Delicately translucent in bronzes and golds, the colors of a Monarch's wings magnified. When they began to flutter, Megan had to dodge to keep from being struck as the right one swept upward, shedding a fine dust which sifted gently onto the antique Persian carpet. It glittered a moment before disappearing.

Reaching out, she touched the wing, running her fingers along the heavy mast-bone. It was soft and furry, felt like a swatch of velvet, and warm. Megan pressed her fingers against it, letting its heat flow into her hand. She would swear she felt a pulse beating against her palm.

Thank you for being here today, Toni.