tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81759152024-03-13T07:19:51.345-07:00C. T. AdamsC.T. Adams is a U.S.A. Today Bestselling Author who writes both individually and as co-author with Cathy L. Clamp. Our new joint pen name is Cat Adams. This is Cie's Blog. View and Participate AT YOUR OWN RISK (BWA, HA, HA, HA!!!)C. T. Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367074969727494566noreply@blogger.comBlogger1032125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175915.post-11739524548673934632017-05-03T15:28:00.001-07:002017-05-03T15:28:12.551-07:00ARRRRGGGGGHHHHHhhOkay, apparently for reasons only known to the computer and Kindle, the pricing info didn't save, so they didn't have it final to put up and we were delayed. I THINK I've got it fixed. ARGH!!C. T. Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367074969727494566noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175915.post-68051582888571265762017-04-29T11:21:00.000-07:002017-04-29T11:21:10.002-07:00THE FIRST MYSTERY NOVELLA IS UP FOR 2.99 -- BLACK & BLUEALL RIGHTY THEN --<br />
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The first murder mystery is up on Kindle only as an ebook. BLACK & BLUE is the first Ivie Black mystery and the first release of a mystery novella under the new A.S. James name. <br />
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It's at $2.99 because that's what Kindle recommended, and because I couldn't really figure out the pricing scheme in the limited time available to me. But I'm in a program that will let me discount it after 30 days. But I'm HOPING ya'll will be too anxious to wait. <br />
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BUY THE NOVELLA GUYS. SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL AUTHOR.<br />
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<br />C. T. Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367074969727494566noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175915.post-12656668559569735712017-04-12T10:24:00.004-07:002017-04-12T10:24:56.221-07:00Pain Meds, Brain Function and Odd MemoriesI have arthritis. <br />
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Occasionally, particularly when the weather is damp, I hurt. A lot. On rare occasions I hurt enough to actually take something for the pain. I try not to do that. For a lot of reasons. Getting too used to pain medication is bad; taking any medication isn't great for my one remaining kidney; it affects my ability to think properly which is kind of counterproductive for living; it loosens up my self control (which is not a good idea people. Really.), etc.<br />
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But today it was very, very bad. So I took something. I now hurt considerably less. And I am very, VERY mellow. <br />
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A post on Facebook about a woman getting an MRI of her brain and doing meditation to stay calm during the process reminded me of something that happened to me many years ago now.<br />
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I was having a MRI done of my head because of a pituitary tumor. I needed to lay VERY VERY still so they could get a good picture. So I did my relaxation and meditation exercises.<br />
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SUDDENLY I AM WHEELED OUT, THERE ARE FLASHING LIGHTS, THERE IS A NURSE WITH PADDLES IN HER HANDS LEANING OVER ME!<br />
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ME: "What the hell?"<br />
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NURSE: "OH! You're . . . you're not. . . . You're okay?"<br />
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ME: "I WAS fine. Not so sure now. Wazzup?"<br />
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NURSE: "Your blood pressure and pulse went so low, we thought we were losing you. Yesterday we had a guy react to the dye and crash."<br />
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ME: "Oh. No. Just doing my relaxation and meditation."<br />
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NURSE: "Um. Good? But maybe you don't need to be quite THAT relaxed."<br />
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ME: "At this point, I don't think it's going to be a problem."<br />
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<br />C. T. Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367074969727494566noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175915.post-26432340227682846952017-03-24T10:04:00.001-07:002017-03-24T10:04:34.134-07:00I DID IT! HAH! HAH I SAY.No day is wasted that you learn something. Or so I've been told. Well, today I learned how to reformat my novella so that Jutoh liked it and I could have it ready to go for epubbing.<br />
<br />AHA! YES! WOO HOO. <br />
<br />
So. Now I have one hurdle of three done to get it done. <br />
<br />Two more to go.<br />
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CieC. T. Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367074969727494566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175915.post-19465584847446135362017-03-17T08:32:00.002-07:002017-03-17T08:32:34.169-07:00Things that stick in your mind.Sometimes things get stuck in my mind. At the moment it's something I read:<br />
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How many Lowes could Rob Lowe rob if Rob Lowe could rob Lowes?C. T. Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367074969727494566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175915.post-84227353798665190952017-03-15T06:03:00.002-07:002017-03-15T06:03:15.382-07:00Short Story of the Month -- MONSTERS (NOTE UNEDITED)<div align="center" style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
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<br />"Do you believe in monsters?" Cassie looked Amy straight in the eye when she asked it. She had to look down a little bit. Amy was quite a bit shorter than her friend. And while Cassie was a truly striking woman, with eyes the color of honey amber with flecks of brown and gold, framed by lashes that were nearly black, despite her naturally blonde hair. Amy was not. It wasn't that she wasn't pretty. She was, tiny with porcelain skin and long dark hair that was wildly curly. Still, she had to work hard to look good as Cassie looked naturally. Sometimes she made the effort. Other times, like tonight, after a long shift at work she knew she wouldn't be getting a second look.<br /><br />She was actually okay with that. Her last relationship had been such a disaster that she wasn't sure she'd ever be ready to date again.<br /><br />They were on their third drinks, waiting for the pizza to arrive. Petie's had good drinks and great food, but speedy they weren't. The two women had come to the bar together, meeting up with the rest of their group. The guys had gone over to the pool tables to kill some time until the food arrived. Cassie and Amy had stayed here to chat.<br /><br />Cassie was Amy's friend, her first and only girlfriend since she'd moved into town three months before. Maybe it was the intimacy of a dark bar, and the two of them sitting alone at a corner table. Probably it was the drinks. But Amy opened my mouth and truth fell out, shocking them both.<br /><br />"Yes, I believe in monsters. A monster is the guy who looks absolutely ordinary, but stalks you until you get a restraining order, then laughs because he knows it's just a piece of paper. He's the one who leaves threatening messages in excruciating detail saying exactly what he intends to do to you, no matter how many times you change your number and slashes the tires of your new car when it's parked in front of the new apartment he isn't even supposed to know about. He's the guy who breaks into your house and kills your pet, leaving the corpse on your pillow so you'll know he can get to you any time he wants. That's a monster. And it's scarier than any vampire or zombie, or any other monster you'll see in the movies." Amy was speaking softly, barely above a whisper, so that only Cassie would hear. She so didn't want Zach, Mike or Rob to know. It would change how they treated her. The last thing she wanted was for her friends to see her as a victim. They wouldn't mean to, but it had happened before. Amy valued being treated like a person and an equal, being accepted at face value. Ultimately, that was probably why she'd confided in Cassie. Her friend had treated her at face value from the first day she'd started working as the admissions clerk in the ER. The time was overdue for some real honesty. But while she liked the guys a lot, Amy just wasn't ready to trust a man-any man.<br /><br />Cassie's eyes narrowed, and Amy would have sworn she heard her friend growl. It was a low vicious sound, the kind that sets your hair on end and makes your pulse race; barely audible over the sound of the music blasting out of the jukebox. Even so, over at the pool table the guys turned as one, their eyes locking onto the two women, their gaze intense, bodies poised for action. It was . . . disconcerting.<br /><br />Amy blinked rapidly and looked away, but before she did she saw Cassie give a tiny shake of her head. The guys went back to their game. But Amy could feel their focus on her just the same.<br /><br />"What did you do?"<br /><br />Amy turned back again so she could met the concern and curiosity in Cassie's gaze, forcing herself to answer without flinching. "I ran. I gave up everything, my family, career, friends, everything. I even changed my name. Because I knew . . . <em>know</em> that if he finds me he <em>will</em> kill me. Slowly."<br /><br />There was a long, thoughtful pause. Finally, Cassie said, "I see. That explains a lot."<br /><br />Amy raised her eyebrows in inquiry.<br /><br />Cass smiled, to take the sting out of her words. "Amy, please. You've got the three hottest guys in Harmony panting after you, but you act like you don't even notice."<br /><br />Amy's face heated from a fierce blush. "They are not."<br /><br />"They hell they aren't." Cassie took a long drink from her glass then gave her friend a rueful look, "Rob even asked me if you were gay."<br /><br />Amy wouldn't have believed she could blush any harder, but she somehow managed it. A part of her wanted to slide under the table and stay there. Another part was flattered. After all, these were <em>great </em>guys. Rob was tall, dark and lean with intense blue eyes framed by thick dark lashes. He wore his hair cut short, befitting a doctor. Mike worked as an orderly and looks enough like Rob that Amy would've thought they were related. They're not. They were just roommates and very good friends who played practical jokes on each other, but still managed to be completely professional at work.<br /><br />Zach was the quiet one. County Coroner, he spent most of his time alone in the basement of the hospital. A brilliant MD, he could work with the living if it weren't for the fact that he didn't much like people. Amy hadn't seen him say more than half a dozen words to anyone outside of their little group.<br /><br />Still, when he did talk, it was worth listening. Zach's dry, wicked wit flew right over most people's heads, but totally cracked Amy up. She liked all three of the guys quite a lot, but she had a real soft spot for Zach. <em>If I were in the market . . . </em>she thought. But no. She wasn't. Not now. Maybe not ever. Besides, Zach could have anybody. He didn't need to settle for a woman with so much baggage she needed a storage unit.<br /><br />Amy had to force herself not to stare at him. Damn he looked hot tonight. He'd been spending some time in the sun, so his dark blond hair had sunnier highlights, and the muscular arms that strained at the sleeves of his Metallica tee-shirt were nicely tanned. He was a little shorter than both Mike and Rob, but he was built better. He was six foot tall, and there wasn't an ounce of fat on him. And oh, his eyes. Bright green, they wouldn't have looked out of place on a cat. She'd never seen anyone with eyes like that. But they looked perfect on him.<br /><br />Amy caught herself staring at him, bent over the pool table lining up a shot-particularly his nice, round backside.<br /><br />She tore her gaze away, and found Cassie giving her a knowing look. "Aha, apparently you're not <em>completely</em> immune to them after all."<br /><br />"Cassie!"<br /><br />"It's all right Amy. Really. They're good guys. You can trust them. They would never hurt you. And I think they might take apart anybody else who tried."<br /><br />"I know . . ." She did, intellectually. But somehow she just didn't think she was ready to trust her heart to anyone yet, even Zach.<br /> </div>
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<br />"Wow, talk about your baggage. I mean, yeah, it's not her fault, but <em>wow.</em>" Mike took a pull from a long-necked beer bottle still wet from the cooler and leaned back against his truck. They'd driven out to the lake after Petie's had closed. None of the three of them was ready to sleep. Besides, it was a gorgeous night-way too beautiful to be inside.<br /><br />Zach shook his head as he reached into the cooler for a cold one. He liked Mike, truly. But in some ways his packmate was just a kid. "Like you said. '<em>Not her fault.' </em>I can wait if I have to. She's worth it." She was too. He'd never met anyone quite like her-smart, kind, pretty, and hey, she actually got his jokes. But best of all by far, she wasn't squicked out by his job. Zach couldn't count the times he'd gone on a first date with a promising prospect only to have her go "E<a href="https://draft.blogger.com/null" style="color: #222222;">WWWWW</a>, dead bodies? Really?" For the rest of the night she would act like he had some kind of contagious disease she was afraid of catching.<br /><br />"Maybe she'll never be ready." Rob suggested. "That's a hell of a lot to deal with. It's a damned shame too. She's a great girl." He snarled, showing sharp white teeth. "Damn but I'd love to sink my teeth into that bastard."<br /><br />Zach shook his head. "Me too." He agreed heartily. The guy who'd done that to Amy was one sick bastard. He richly deserved whatever payback Zach and the pack could give him. Of course in order for them to deliver that payback the bastard would have to find Amy and come after her again. Not something to wish for. Still, he knew it had to be hard for Amy, living her life waiting for the other boot to drop.<br /><br /># # #<br /><br />Despite Rob's misgivings, that night launched the beginning of the slow, infinitely patient campaign by Zach to win Amy's heart. It was made up of tiny things: walking her to her car after shift; bringing her a cup of her favorite high-end coffee to her when she was tired. Giving her a miniature rose bush in her favorite yellow for her to plant in the yard on her birthday. When the group would go out for a pizza, Zach somehow always wound up sitting beside her so that he could pay special attention.<br /><br />He never pushed, didn't rush her. He made her smile, laugh, when she'd almost forgotten how. And while it didn't hurt that he was so scrumptious to look at, it really didn't figure that much into the equation. He was <em>nice</em>, and funny. He helped her to feel again, made her feel beautiful, lovable, and best of all, <em>safe</em>.<br /><br />In the end, Amy was the one who made the first move.<br /><br />It was a sweltering summer night-ninety-eight degrees and ninety-eight percent humidity. The air felt thick enough to drink. It was <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_1240045252" style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(204, 204, 204); position: relative; top: -2px; z-index: 0;" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ" style="position: relative; top: 2px; z-index: -1;">Friday</span></span>, and as usual the five of them had gone to Petie's for pizza and beer when their shift ended at <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_1240045253" style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(204, 204, 204); position: relative; top: -2px; z-index: 0;" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ" style="position: relative; top: 2px; z-index: -1;">11:00</span></span>. They'd eaten, drank, and somehow or other, Zach managed to talk Amy into letting him teach her how to shoot pool.<br /><br />Having him mould his body to hers as they bent down over the table to line up a shot made her pulse race. The clean, masculine scent of him, the soft brush of his hair against her cheek made her body tighten until she practically ached with need. Being <em>this </em>close to him was certainly distracting enough that she miscued, sending the white cue ball flying off the table and across the room and leaving her feeling like a total idiot. He'd just smiled, winked at her, and gone to fetch the ball. "Maybe you'll do better if I step back a little?" He teased, his grin both wicked and anticipatory.<br /><br />She stuck her tongue out at him. Immature, but it made him laugh, a low wicked sound that tightened things low in her body and made her pulse quicken.<br /><br />"Or, maybe it's time to leave?" Amy's voice was just a little breathy. She couldn't help it. He'd stepped closer, close enough that they were not <em>quite</em> touching.<br /><br />"If that's what you want."<br /><br />Oh sweet lord yes. She wanted it, wanted <em>him</em> desperately. He was sweet, sexy, kind, <em>sexy,</em> gorgeous, and did she mention . . . sexy. She honestly couldn't believe he was interested in being with her. But he obviously was.<br /><br />When he walked her to her car she went up on tiptoe to kiss him goodnight. She'd intended just to give him a chaste peck, but her body betrayed her, the kiss growing into something hot enough to make her knees week and leave her breathless and panting. She expected him to push for more, at the same time that she was terrified he might. She wasn't ready. She wanted to be-didn't want what that sick bastard did to ruin her chances for something this special, but she was afraid.<br /><br />When he didn't push for more she was both relieved and disappointed. She left for home physically frustrated, and mentally torn. She wanted him, and not just for a night. He was being patient, but was he patient enough? It really boiled down to one thing. Did she care enough about him enough to risk it-to try?<br /><br />She tried to imagine the alternative-losing him to someone else, and felt the sting of tears. She couldn't let that happen. She couldn't.<br /><br />The next night she asked him out to dinner and a movie. By autumn they were lovers. She was happy-happier than she'd ever been in her life.<br /><br />She should've known it wouldn't last. </div>
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2</div>
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<br /><span class="aBn" data-term="goog_1240045254" style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(204, 204, 204); position: relative; top: -2px; z-index: 0;" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ" style="position: relative; top: 2px; z-index: -1;">Friday</span></span> morning, <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_1240045255" style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(204, 204, 204); position: relative; top: -2px; z-index: 0;" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ" style="position: relative; top: 2px; z-index: -1;">September 8</span></span> dawned bright and clear, but by <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_1240045256" style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(204, 204, 204); position: relative; top: -2px; z-index: 0;" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ" style="position: relative; top: 2px; z-index: -1;">noon</span></span> an ominous storm bank had moved in from the west. The weather service had issued tornado warnings. Amy could believe it. Looking out across the fields that surrounded her little farm house in the country she could see just how ugly the storm was looking. The clouds had that greenish-yellow underbelly that spoke of hail and worse. It made her nervous enough that she decided to get ready and go into work early-just in case.<br /><br />She was in the bathroom, drying off from her shower when leading edge of the storm hit, the wind howling like a banshee, rain, then hail, beating against the glass of the bathroom window. At first she could barely hear the wail of the tornado siren over the sounds of the storm.<br /><br />Abruptly an eerie silence fell. Amy peered around the curtains, not sure what to expect, and was rewarded with the sight of the first rotation of clouds, slowly at first, then gaining momentum. The wind began howling again, a wall of sound like a freight train as a white wedge cloud lowered to touch down in the empty field, no more than a mile away. Mesmerized, she watched as a force of nature, horrible and yet somehow beautiful, tore across the land darkening to brown as dirt and debris were sucked upward into the funnel, the town of Harmony directly in it's path.</div>
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<br />The devastation was unfathomable. It is one thing to watch images of wreckage on the television, or see photos in the newspapers. It's another to view a familiar scene, up close and personal, so hideously and suddenly changed. Massive trees, hundreds of years old, ripped from the ground and tossed, as if by the hand of some massive being. Power lines were down everywhere. Homes were cracked open like eggs, stunned victims roaming the streets past crushed vehicles. She saw it all as she drove her truck with desperate care to the hospital. On the seat next to her, the medical bag she'd set aside for the year and more since she'd fled her old life.<br /><br />They'd drilled for this. Everyone on staff knew their roles. She had to get to the hospital as fast as possible to help process the injured.<br /><br />Amy tried calling Zach and the others-there was no signal. The cell tower must have been hit. Amy tried to convince herself he was fine, they all were fine, but her entire body was tense with worry. She had to get to the hospital. Not only to help, but because that's where he . . . they would look for her. Still, it was hard, driving past piles of wreckage, knowing that there might be people trapped inside. But Amy knew she wasn't strong enough, or well-trained enough to help anyone there. Rescue workers would work to get them out safely, without making the wreckage shift. She could, and would, help save more lives at the hospital. Damn the consequences, and hiding her identity. She'd use her medical training. She was a doctor, and doctors would be desperately needed.<br /><br />Amy arrived into organized chaos and set to work, reporting in to the person in charge in the hospital cafeteria, showing them her credentials and briefly explaining that she was willing to work either as a clerk or a doctor, whatever was needed.<br /><br />"Doctor." He told her. "We need more doctors. Most of our staff hasn't checked in yet, and half the town has been wiped out. Go down to the emergency room. Check in with Mike, he's in charge. Tell him what you told me and get to work."<br /><br />"Mike," Amy started to speak, to explain, but he swept her into a hug that left her breathless. "Thank God, you're okay. The radio said the twister came out of the east along I-55. That's out by your place."<br /><br />"I'm fine. And Mike, I'm a physician. I gave my practice up when I moved here, but I'm still licensed."<br /><br />"Good. We need every trained body we can get."<br /><br />"Zach? Cassie and Rob?"<br /><br />His voice held barely controlled anguish. "I don't know."<br /><br />They set to work, dealing with the most critically injured first. Each time the doors opened Amy looked up, searching each face, hoping it would be him.<br /><br />And finally it was.<br /><br />Amy almost collapsed, her knees going weak with the relief of seeing not just Zach, but Cassie and Rob too, all safe and relatively uninjured. She had to steady herself against the nearest wall and blink back tears of relief and joy.<br /><br />They came to her, giving her a quick hug, murmuring words of affection before going to check in with Mike and getting to work.<br /><br />There was plenty of work to do. The storm had wreaked utter devastation on the area. A full half of Harmony was flattened, and the storm did worse to some of the smaller, outlying towns. Amy worked, side by side with her fellow physicians and nurses, as cops and firefighters, EMTs, and plain citizens brought the injured in a seemingly endless chain: trauma victims with broken bones, concussions, patient 87 was a 20 year old man, had been impaled by a length of steel pipe.<br /><br />To her surprise, none of her friends asked why she was working as a physician. Maybe Mike had warned them. Whatever the reason, Amy didn't waste time worrying about it. There was too much to do. Hours later, when the last patient was stabilized, she was almost too weary to move or think.<br /><br />"I'm exhausted." She said it to herself as much as anyone in the room. They were all tired. They'd done good work. Lives had been saved. So far there were only two deaths. Not bad, considering she'd heard that the twister had been an F5. But four people were still missing, including the coach at the high school and his wife, one of the nurses here at the hospital.<br /><br />"You did good Amy." Mike came up beside her. "We all did. Bob and Sandy got here last. They're taking the shift. Things are stable. You can go home."<br /><br />"I'm too beat to drive." In fact, she was so tired she could barely speak. Her tongue seemed awkward, slurring her words.<br /><br />"You can sleep in the Expedition with me if you like." Cassie offered. "That's what I'm doing. The back seats fold down and the front ones recline. I'm too pooped to drive. Even if I could, I saw a picture on the news. The duplex is just . . . gone."<br /><br />"Oh Cass, I'm so sorry." Amy started to offer her condolences, but the other woman waved it away.<br /><br />"Don't. Really. It's just stuff. I'm alive. Everybody I care about is alive. There's nothing that was there that I can't replace. But oh God I'm tired."<br /><br />"Me too." Zach came up to the two women. Like everyone else with a medical degree, he'd chipped in and helped. <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_1240045257" style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(204, 204, 204); position: relative; top: -2px; z-index: 0;" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ" style="position: relative; top: 2px; z-index: -1;">Tomorrow</span></span> he'd be back to working as coroner, processing the bodies of old Mr. Slocum and poor Emily Johns-and anybody else who didn't make it. But tonight he'd worked on the living, and done a damned fine job of it. But he looked as weary as Amy felt. His scrubs were stained and rumpled, his skin almost gray from the fatigue that always manifests after the surge of adrenaline drains off.<br /><br />"You did good today Amy. You'd never know you hadn't been practicing for a while." Zach pulled her into a hug, whispering in her ear. "I'm proud of you. It's brave of you to come out like this. Are you going to be okay?"<br /><br />She went up on tiptoes, kissing him gently. "I'm proud of you too." She didn't answer his question. She knew that by revealing her true identity, and her credentials as a physician, she'd taken a terrible risk. Later, she'd have to deal with the consequences. But not now. For now, to hell with the consequences. She was going out to that vehicle, laying down next to the man she loved and getting some much deserved rest.<br /><br />"Does your offer extend to the rest of us?" Mike asked Cassie.<br /><br />"Sure. Why not. It's a big vehicle. We'll all fit."<br /><br />So, as a group, they walked out of the emergency room to the parking lot. They were all so tired that not one of them saw the cameraman's lens following their progress.</div>
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3<br /></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">Amy woke feeling warm and safe, curled in the curve of Zach's body, his soft snores bringing a smile to her face-a smile that faded quickly when she tried to move and realized just how sore and stiff she was. Oh ow. So ow. She looked out the window. Sunlight was just giving the eastern horizon a line of pale pink, and there wasn't a cloud marring the starry expanse of sky lit by a moon just short of full.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">"Where do you think you're going?" Zach mumbled as he tried to pull her close again. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">"I have to pee." Amy whispered. "And then I really want a shower. I think they've probably cleared the highway by now."</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">He groaned, waking the others.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">"What's up?" Cassie's voice came from the front of the vehicle as the driver's seat moved upright.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">"Amy's headed home to take a shower. I think I'm jealous." Mike answered. I'm not sure my place is even standing, and I know the power's out. So no hot water."</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">Zach lifted his arm and Amy squirmed out from under as the back hatch lifted at Cassie's press of a button. "You guys can come to my place. I'm on well-water, and the twister passed me by. I've got a generator for electricity, and there's room for anybody who wants to stay. I just wasn't up to driving last night."</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">"Oh God a shower. I don't suppose you'd have any spare clothes?" Cassie's voice was filled with longing. When Amy smiled and nodded her best friend gave a sigh of pure pleasure and said, "If you weren't already taken, and the wrong sex, I'd kiss you right now."</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">"Now that's something I'd pay to see." Rob said. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">Zach gave a half-hearted growl.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">"Aw come on boss." Rob apologized, "a man can dream can't he?"</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">"Not if he wants to stay healthy." Zach answered.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">Amy decided not to get into the middle of </span><em style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">that</em><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;"> discussion. Instead, she changed the subject. "I'm going inside for a minute." She said as she clambered awkwardly out of the vehicle. "Meet you all at my place?" Amy suggested.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">Everyone agreed. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">Amy's house wasn't really large. At one time it had been part of a big farm, but most of the land had been sold to one of the big farming corporations, leaving only about ten acres surrounding a white two-story home and a big red barn. Still, it was a nice little place, with lots of amenities, including the generator that Amy'd been so sure she'd never have a use for.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">Cassie's Expedition was parked in the gravel drive when Zach and Amy arrived, and Amy's three friends had made themselves comfortable on the wide front porch that had a view so peaceful it belied the chaos of just a few short hours ago. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">Like any good hostess, Amy decided to let her guests have first crack at the bathroom. Of course, that meant she'd probably wind up with only cold water. Unless, of course, she doubled up with Zach. Just the thought of that warmed her up all over.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br />
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4</div>
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<br />The next couple of days were incredibly busy. Cassie's home had been completely obliterated, so she moved in with Amy. Zach's house was unlivable, but he'd decided Amy wasn't quite ready for a live-in lover. So he used his savings to buy a used motor home that he parked in Amy's drive, hooking it up to her utilities. Rob and Mike spent most of their time at Amy's as well, because while the town was digging out and working on repairs, their apartment still didn't have running water.<br /><br />It was strange, but Amy seemed perfectly comfortable having the four of them around.<br /><br />Still, he could tell that she wasn't sorry when he'd suggested that he and the guys take the truck to go on a grocery run to the nearest city outside the disaster area. She'd even given them a list, and tried to give him money to cover it. He took the former, and firmly refused the latter. "We're buying. Don't argue."<br /><br />She wrinkled her nose at him, which made him smile. Of course he'd been smiling quite a lot lately. Being with her just made him happy. It was that simple.<br /><br />"Fine." She agreed, going on tiptoe to kiss him. "If you insist."<br /><br />"I do." He kissed her back and she reacted with enough body English that he was tempted to tell the guys to go without him. But she pulled away, laughing and making a little shooing gesture with her hands.<br /><br />"Go. I'm completely out of coffee and milk." She turned, walking away.<br /><br />"Right." He watched her walk all the way to the house, appreciating the sway of her hips, and the way the breeze played with her long dark curls. Only when she was inside and out of sight did he climb into the truck to join the others. They didn't say a word.<br /><br />The silence only lasted until they reached the highway. Then Rob broached the subject Zach had most been dreading.<br /><br />"You have to tell her Zach." Rob's voice was firm. "We're practically living with her. Hell, Cassie <em>is.</em> Besides, she deserves to know."<br /><br />"I know, I know." Zach glared at his buddy across the bulk of Mike's body.<br /><br />"I'm with Rob on this one, boss. Amy needs to know what we are. We can trust her. She can keep a secret."<br /><br />Zach knew that. Amy knew all about keeping important secrets. That wasn't the problem, wasn't why he had put off telling her about his true nature so long that now she was liable to feel betrayed at him having kept it from her.<br /><br />He was afraid.<br /><br />It was that simple. He loved her, needed her. Finally, he had found the right woman, his mate. And he was liable to lose her. Because he wasn't human. Not completely anyway. How could he expect her to understand that?<br /><br />How could he risk losing her?<br /><br />Mike gave him a look, his expression saying clearly that he understood exactly what his friend was going through. "You have to risk it boss."<br /><br />"What if she runs?"<br /><br />Rob sighed. "Then she runs. But I think you're underestimating her. She loves you, and she's strong enough to be coming back from something so horrific most people would crawl in a hole and stay there."<br /><br />"You're right." Zach admitted. But when and how he'd break the news to her he had no clue.<br /> </div>
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# # #<br /></div>
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"Oh <em>shit.</em>" Amy stared at the front page of the newspaper.<br /><br />"What's wrong?" Cassie took the paper from her friend's limp hand and spread it out over the kitchen table.<br /><br />There, on the front page, were images of the devastation along the twister's path-and a clear photo of five "heroic" hospital workers going off duty after "a long shift saving lives."<br /><br />There was no missing Amy's face, and the photo was helpfully captioned with each of their names.<br /><br />"Oh no." Cassie looked at the paper in horror, then to her friend's stricken face, at the tears running silently down Amy's cheeks. Stiffening her spine Cassie made her voice firm. "This doesn't mean anything."<br /><br />"I'll have to go. " Amy whispered, her voice choked with tears. "I'll have to start over. Again."<br /><br />"No!" Cassie answered firmly giving her friend a steely glare. "Absolutely not."<br /><br />"You don't understand." It was a sad whisper.<br /><br />"The <em>hell</em> I don't." Cassie slammed her palm against the table. Eyes blazing with intensity, she willed Amy to believe every word she was saying. "You're afraid. I get that. But you're not leaving. First, there's a good chance he won't see this. Not too many people read the papers these days. Everybody goes online. But even if he does, you have us now. Zach, Mike, Rob and me. We are <em>not</em> going to let some bastard victimize you. We're not. We love you Amy. All of us. Yeah, Zach may be the one you chose, but you're one of us now. And if that sick bastard is stupid enough to come after you he'll have to deal with all of us. We'll show him what real monsters can do."<br /><br />"Cassie . . ." Amy's heart was breaking.<br /><br />"You're not leaving Zach. It'd kill him. He loves you that much." Cassie's jaw thrust out stubbornly. "You're not leaving any of us. Promise me."<br /><br />"But . . ."<br /><br />"PROMISE."<br /><br />Amy stared into those incredible gold eyes, and found herself making a promise that just might cost her her life.</div>
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5</div>
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<br />Amy sighed as she pulled back into the driveway and cut the headlights. The pole light in the yard lit the area as bright as day. She'd have to hurry or she'd be late for her shift. She was covering for Molly Emerson, who was away to Disneyland® for the weekend with her husband and kids. But she'd forgotten her office keys and she just had to have them. So she'd turned around and come back home.<br /><br />Amy had tried to be brave, put a good front on in front of the others, but ever since that photo had appeared in the paper she'd been secretly terrified of being alone. She wanted nothing more than to just stay home and be with Zach and the others. But Molly had begged until Amy had promised to cover the shift-even though it was the first night of the full moon, when all the crazies seem to come out in droves.<br /><br />The keys were right where she left them, on the hook in the kitchen. She snagged them, surprised not to hear anyone bustling around the house. In fact, the place was almost eerily quiet.<br /><br />Glancing out the kitchen window she saw Zach's motor home. A flicker of movement caught her eye. Moving closer, she saw a group of large dogs . . .no . . . wolves. "<em>Holy crap, they're wolves,</em>" she said to herself. But that was crazy. There were no wolves in central Illinois. It wasn't possible. But there they stood. There were four of them, three male, one female. They were huge. Much bigger than any normal dog-and beautiful in a scary predatory sort of way.<br /><br />At the sound of Amy's words the wolves turned as if one, staring at her through the kitchen window. Even from this distance she could see the look in their eyes, the intelligence in each gaze was uncanny. And the color . . . the two black wolves had penetrating blue eyes. The tawny female's eyes were honey amber with flecks of brown and gold. Amy let out a soft gasp, the keys falling from her nerveless fingers. "No. It's not possible." She had to steady herself against the counter as she turned to look at the last wolf, a beautiful male with the traditional silver-gray markings. He met her gaze head on, looking at her with Zach's green eyes.<br /><br /><em>Oh shit! Amy? </em><br /><br />At the sound of Zach's voice in her mind, she turned and ran.<br /><br />Driving to work she told herself it was a dream. Stress. She'd been imagining things. A part of her was sure of it. Another, larger part knew better.<br /><br />'<em>Do you believe in monsters</em>?' She remembered Cassie's question as she drove to work at the hospital. And '<em>We'll show him what real monsters can do.'</em><br /><br />It was impossible.<br /><br />But when she thought back, tried to remember, she realized she couldn't think of a single full moon night when her friends had been on shift. Not one. They'd taken vacation days, switched shifts, or called in sick. They'd never, not once, been on duty. And they <em>always</em> hung out together as a group . . . a pack.<br /><br />"No. I don't believe it. I don't." Amy told herself as she pulled into the parking lot. She climbed out of the car, so lost in thought that she wasn't paying attention to her surroundings.<br /><br />It was a terrible mistake.</div>
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6</div>
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<br />Zach ran, hard as he could, over fields, through yards, a gray blur of fur moving through the night, he couldn't match Amy's vehicle for speed, but he knew where she was going, and he could take the more direct route, going cross country. He tried to reach her telepathically, but she was too distraught to hear him. Behind him, far in the distance, he could feel his pack mates, back in their human form, driving together to the hospital to help her cope, or console him, whichever. He didn't have time to worry about them, his thoughts were all of Amy and of self-recrimination for not having had the courage to tell her himself.<br /><br />As he rounded the last corner he saw her pull into her parking space and climb from the car. He was less than a block away, bunching for one last full-out sprint when he saw a male figure step out of the darkness and grab Amy, putting a cloth over her mouth as he dragged her into the back of a van with its motor running.<br /><br />Howling in rage and fury he launched himself across the distance. Too late, the van pulled out of the drive with a squeal of tires and a spray of gravel.</div>
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7<br /></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">Amy came to in a hotel room. She was lying on one of a pair of double beds. But this one had been draped with plastic, a thin painter's tarp of the kind that could be picked up cheaply at any hardware store. She tried to open her mouth, to scream, but little sound came out. Her mouth was taped shut-probably with the same silver duct tape that fastened the tarp to the headboard. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">She tried to struggle, to move, but her body simply wouldn't respond. She wasn't bound. But she was helpless. A part of her mind she went through the drugs he could've used, how he might have administered them, so that her mind would stay clear while her body remained passive. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">Stan had her. She felt a wave of heart-pounding panic, but fought it down. She had to think if she was going to survive. And she was determined that she </span><em style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">would</em><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;"> survive. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">"Well, well, well. I see you finally decided to join me. You had me worried for a minute there. I was afraid I'd over dosed you."</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">She couldn't have answered if she wanted to. Still, he prowled around her. She could hear him moving, always just out of sight. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">"I've waited so long for this." Stan gave a long sigh. "You've led me on a merry chase. You've been so much more challenging than the others. I </span><em style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">almost</em><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;"> wish it wasn't ending tonight. But the wait only increased the anticipation. And it gave me time to think about all the things I want to do to you as you lie there, helpless."</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">He stepped forward, finally coming into her line of vision: a smallish man, average height, but fine boned, his light brown hair straight and thinning, slightly paunchy beneath the blue cotton scrubs that brought out the traces of blue in his cold gray eyes. In his rubber-gloved hand there was a scalpel, on his face a smile that held not the slightest trace of sanity.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">"I practiced, you know-with the drugs. It took a long time, but I wanted to get it just right. Enough to keep you motionless, but not unconscious. I wanted you able to scream, to feel the pain." He cut a delicate slice down one arm. She tried to flinch, tried to cry out, but her body couldn't move and the gag was so effective very little sound emerged. Still, she saw him savor that little sound, an almost orgasmic expression passing over his features as he watched her blood rise from the parted flesh. There was an instant's pause between the cut and the pain that happens when you're sliced with a truly sharp blade. There's a flash of disconnect as your mind and body realize that this is going to be bad.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">Abruptly, outside there was a terrible commotion-pounding on the door of the next room, a drunken voice shouting "Dammit Giselle! Let me in!" </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">A </span><em style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">familiar</em><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;"> drunken voice. It was Mike. She'd swear it. Making enough noise to raise the dead, bring the police and cover up other smaller sounds, like the ones right outside the hotel room window.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><em style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">Amy, can you hear me? </em><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">Zach's desperate voice spoke directly into her mind.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">She made a sound behind the gag, as if calling for help.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">"Come on Giselle! You know I didn't mean it!"</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">"Oh no you don't!" Stan hissed into Amy's ear. "You are </span><em style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">not</em><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;"> getting away from me this time. And no one is going to be saving you." Setting the scalpel onto the nightstand he stripped off his gloves, tossing them onto the bed beside Amy. Then with a single swift movement he yanked the bedspread from the second bed and used it to conceal Amy and the plastic, before storming over to the door.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">Undoing the locks he yanked open the door, his mouth open to tell off the drunken fool making a racket next door. To his utter shock, he was knocked backward as a gray furred form the size of a pony with scimitar claws and wicked fangs bore him down to the ground with a growl that made the windows rattle. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">Stan's shout of rage morphed into a scream that was cut abruptly off with the snap of what had to be bone breaking. The door closed as someone tore the spread from the bed. Amy found herself looking into a furred face and intense green eyes. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><em style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">You're going to be all right. We're here now. He's never going to hurt you again.</em><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">Amy couldn't seem to form a coherent thought. She was so grateful, glad, confused. Tears streamed from her eyes, tears that the wolf lapped gently from her face. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">"Aren't you going to finish him?" Cassie asked coldly.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">The wolf turned, to look at the form sprawled on the floor just outside Amy's line of sight.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><em style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">No. </em><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">The wolf . . . smiled, showing wicked, bloodied fangs. </span><em style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">I don't think so. He liked making women helpless, having them completely at a stranger's mercy. Now we'll see how he likes living that reality himself-every day, for the rest of his life.</em><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">Cassie laughed. "You're right of course." She came up to the bed, moving with some difficulty around the huge wolf. "Amy, I'm going to take off the tape. It's going to hurt. And then we're going to stitch up your arm and Zach and I will take you home. Mike and Rob are going to clean up in here-make it look like an accident. The way his neck's broken he's not going to be able to talk or move anything from the neck down. Hell, he's lucky to still be breathing."</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">"He may wind up needing help with that." Mike observed. "The chest muscles really aren't working right."</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">"But he's alive." Cassie assured her. "And no one will ever know what really happened."</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">Amy thought about it as the prick of a needle stung her arm and she felt the gentle tugging of the wound being stitched closed. Even if Stan eventually regained his ability to speak, what would he say? The werewolf boyfriend of his last victim bit him?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">She looked at Zach's huge furred head, heard his tail thumping hopefully against the floor and wanted to laugh. She knew she was a little hysterical. But the relief was so intense. She was alive. Stan was never going to hurt anyone-ever again. So what if her lover and her friends sprouted fur and howled at the moon? The </span><em style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">real</em><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;"> monster was helpless on the floor: alive, and at the mercy of others. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e2602; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">Life was good.</span>C. T. Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367074969727494566noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175915.post-18598034821959351062017-03-12T10:04:00.002-07:002017-03-12T10:04:55.628-07:00A FREAKING HA!!! AHA!! AHA I SAY!Okay, sometimes books go easy. Sometimes they go hard. Sometimes they start out one way, and switch to the other.<br />
<br />
But usually, for me anyway, there is a point where you "hit bottom." Nothing seems to be working. It all just stalls. I usually have a 'why do I do this again?' moment when I seriously consider hitting the delete button because 'it's all just crap.'<br />
<br />
My son refers to this as the "STEP AWAY FROM THE COMPUTER" moment. He has literally had to say that to me back in the days when he was a kid and lived at home. Now I just hear his voice in my head--but it's just as effective. (Even as a teenager he was a bass and had that 'voice of authority.')<br />
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IF YOU ARE LUCKY (and fortunately for me, I usually am.) This is usually a sign of stress, illness and exhaustion. If you are doubly lucky you can take a day or two and get some real rest and come back at it fresh.<br />
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BUT IF YOU GET A BLESSING (and believe me, this doesn't often happen) you will get one of those 'bolt out of the blue' moments and it will all just <i>come</i> to you: fully formed. All of it. The answer, the phrasing, the new characters with their names and personalities, just this FLOOD of pure information and inspiration that pours into and through you.<br />
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When this happens you have to WRITE IT DOWN NOW. As in RIGHT NOW before it all goes away. <br />
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I have had entire worlds come to me like this. This is how I originally got Celia Graves and her world presented to me--in the dealer's room at a convention all those years ago. Cathy was my co-author at the time and she took one look at me, saw it hit and said. "GO up to the room. Now. Write it down before it's gone." "But I need to . . ." "I'll pay for the photo. GO. Now. Before you lose it."<br />
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Cathy is a very smart lady.<br />
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Now I have been having a rough go of it lately. The body has been seriously unhappy. Life has been quite . . . lifish. Compared to stuff other people have been going through I'm sure it's not so bad, but it's bad enough for me. I even considered giving up on writing altogether--which just shows how bad it got because I LOVE writing. <br />
<br />
I have gotten TWO, count them TWO (I just pictured the Count from Sesame Street doing my counting) bolts out of the blue in the past week. The first was a new fantasy world with characters and the complete first novel plotted, politics, action, the whole thing, in one fell swoop.<br />
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The SECOND was the resolution to the Celia book I'd followed down a blind alley. That happened this morning, after I took something for pain, forgot to set my clocks forward and slept myself out (thus missing church -- Sorry God.). <br />
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I got it all. Everything. In a big old data dump. I put it all in my outline, put in all the notes, and got a start (at which point I left to go to church and found out that I'd missed it. I made it just in time for the last blessing--which I need, obviously, although I figure I just got a big one.)<br />
<br />
So, now I'm posting this, then I'm going home where I will write, and write some more, and more after that. <br />
<br />
But ideas are coming to me again. Which means I'm getting better. The body is healing enough that the brain can actually do its thing. <br />
<br />
HALLE FRACKING LUJAH! <br />
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Oh thank you God.C. T. Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367074969727494566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175915.post-71185102595238260662017-01-21T15:17:00.000-08:002017-01-21T15:17:26.409-08:00Too much to do. Too little time and energy.But, I decided to go for a walk, get some exercise, and see if that livened me up.<br />
<br />
Had a wonderful call with the son. He is awesome, funny (but of course, he takes after his mother. LOL).<br />
<br />
Seriously, I hope all is well for y'all. I've got to get going.<br />
<br />Happy reading.<br />
<br />
CieC. T. Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367074969727494566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175915.post-32700750843148916502017-01-07T09:58:00.000-08:002017-01-07T09:58:02.708-08:00Updated the WebsiteUpdated the website. Have been working hard on the next Celia Graves book which I have (but the publisher hasn't so this is terribly tentative) titled DAMNED IF YOU DO.<br />
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Celia has just met an angel. Okay, she's seen them--when her sister and someone else were welcomed into heaven. But she's never had one actually come down to her with a message before. And the message is . . . somewhat alarming. <br />
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It's been a lot of fun writing this so far. I'm a little nervous about it, but, to quote THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN: "So far, so good."<br />
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I've also been creating covers for the mini-mysteries that are coming out next year--novellas I will e-pub for $.99 each with one coming out per quarter and an omnibus at the end of the year. <br />
<br />Here are the covers thus far:<br />
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The cover designs are mine. The photo credits are:</div>
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Roses: C.T. Adams, copyright 2015.</div>
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Still Life for Cie: Donald Clamp, copyright 2012.</div>
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Gun Barrel: James D. Flanders, Feral Hippie Photography, copyright 2016 from painting by C.T. Adams.</div>
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Progress, as it were, is being made. :)<br />
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<br />C. T. Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367074969727494566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175915.post-48265967534504691172017-01-01T12:37:00.001-08:002017-01-01T12:37:08.761-08:00HAPPY NEW YEAR!Wishing you all the best, always. Take care. Be safe (but have fun anyway).<br />
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CieC. T. Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367074969727494566noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175915.post-88981858831612255512016-12-31T09:07:00.002-08:002016-12-31T09:07:53.119-08:00Newsletter is (hopefully) out for the New Year/Happy New Year's EveHi.<br />
<br />
Happy New Year's Eve to you all.<br />
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I just approved the January newsletter. It should be going out any minute. I've been sorting through paperwork and doing important stuff, but I decided to take a break to have a little fun before I lost my mind. <br />
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Above is a picture of me from a couple of years ago. I put it in just to see if the picture ad function worked for me. I've lost a lot of weight since then (and of course gained some back).<br />
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Okay. Enough loafing. Back to the paperwork. UGH.<br />
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Happy New Year!<br />
<br />C. T. Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367074969727494566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175915.post-69109613936090872622016-12-29T05:56:00.001-08:002016-12-29T05:56:50.649-08:00Normal?Tempus fugit.<br />
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Time flies. Whether or not you are having fun.<br />
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Fortunately, this week is a good one. I have the week off and have been doing stuff around the house and WRITING and doing other business stuff and WRITING SOME MORE.<br />
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The Celia book is coming together. WHEW! I love that rush when you know EXACTLY what you're trying to accomplish and it starts to come together.<br />
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Pages are flowing. YIPPEE!<br />
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And now I am off to do more of the other business stuff and then get back to writing.<br />
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Wish me good luck.<br />
<br />
Oh, and folks, the hack affected my newsletter list. If you haven't received the newsletter, my guru has put up a new link on the website: http://ctadamsauthor.com where you can re-sign up. I'm still trying to work out the link here.<br />
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Best.<br />
<br />
CieC. T. Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367074969727494566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175915.post-52401241972255562462016-12-26T07:56:00.002-08:002016-12-26T07:56:25.737-08:00Holly HappydaysWishing you all happiness.<br />
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My brother is doing better. This is wonderful. My son is doing well. This is wonderful too.<br />
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I am writing. A lot. And it is going well. <br />
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In fact, I got a call last night that lifted my spirits considerably. ALL YOUR WISHES has been on the shelves for a while. I've caught some crap from a couple of readers who are very angry that I killed one of the main characters. Had a long, heartfelt letter from a reader who swears she will never read my books again because of it. <br />
<br />
I have to say, it's been hard. Between one thing and another, I've even considered finishing this contract and then throwing the towel in altogether. <br />
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But then I decided that I would do a novella for my Mom for her birthday. She's wanted me to write a mystery since I started. So I did. For her. And I started having fun writing again. (THANKS MOM!)<br />
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And last night my friend Pam calls. I had given her a copy of ALL YOUR WISHES because she and I were together on the vacation to Treasure Island that I used for research purposes for the book. I thought she might like seeing how that turned out. I wasn't even sure if she'd ever find time to read it because BUSY LADY. But I wanted to give it to her just the same. (Besides, most of my friends and family don't read paranormal. They love me enough to have picked up a couple of the books, but they have been very disappointed that I don't write what they love to read).<br />
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WELL, she called me and SHE LOVED IT. She said she thinks it's the best book I've written. She can't put it down. And she gave me crap about the loss of sleep involved. <br />
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And I needed to hear it. Badly. Because I'm writing the next one and the echoing silence with regard to my newsletter and the book has shaken my confidence.<br />
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AND so, today, I've written seven pages so far. I'm taking a break to post this, then I'm back at it.<br />
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Thanks to the readers. <br />
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THANK YOU PAM!<br />
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CieC. T. Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367074969727494566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175915.post-88214594711732940042016-12-24T07:53:00.000-08:002016-12-24T07:53:08.917-08:00It's a MysteryHi Guys.<br />
<br />
Okay, here's the thing.<br />
<br />
I have always loved reading mysteries.<br />
<br />
So I wrote one for my mother for her birthday. It was a novella. <br />
<br />
And writing it was like falling off of a log. No worldbuilding. Regular reality, just add a dead body. <br />
<br />
Holy crap.<br />
<br />
So I'm working on the book for the contract, and it's going well enough. And I will do more if they want them because I do love the characters, and I do love paranormal.<br />
<br />But I'm going to do mystery novellas direct to Kindle for $.99 too. Because I can. And they're fun. And I really hope people will buy them.<br />
<br />
I figure to do one per quarter for the first three quarters of the year--and an omnibus for Christmas.<br />
<br />
It will be secondary to the contracted novels. And they will be novellas--around 30,000 words. <br />
<br />
And another joy of the whole thing. I HAVE LOTS OF THEM mostly finished that just need wrapped up, edited and polished. WOOT.<br />
<br />
And playing with Photoshop to do the covers has been fun too.<br />
<br />
But today, for now, I am off and running, back to put Celia Graves in jeopardy and then make her fight her way out of it. I am SO mean to my characters.<br />
<br />
CieC. T. Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367074969727494566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175915.post-23596038465270314672016-12-17T13:38:00.000-08:002016-12-17T13:38:03.564-08:00HACKED OFFHi!<br />
<br />
I'm hacked off because I was one of the millions/billions of Yahoo users who was hacked. I started my yahoo email account when Yahoo was brand new. I've done all of my personal stuff through it since. I'm now having to migrate all those years of contacts, emails, etc. or delete them and lose the archived information. <br />
<br />
I AM TICKED.<br />
<br />
This is so not what I needed. I have other things to do with my time. It's going to take a major effort AND I will be risking virus infection by going there because my computer at work got infected while there. <br /><br />
GEEZ. <br />
<br />
SO TICKED. <br />
<br />
But I'm determined to look on the bright side. At least I will get a fresh start.<br />
<br />
But I will never understand why some people get their jollies by hurting total strangers that they're never going to even meet. What's the fricking point?<br />
<br />
CieC. T. Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367074969727494566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175915.post-40586499590906236412016-10-07T14:51:00.003-07:002016-10-07T14:51:58.721-07:00Unhappy ReaderWell, I received the first email from a reader unhappy at the death in the book. <br />
<br />
I am sorry that she was so upset. The character's death didn't make me happy either. <br />
<br />
I am flattered that the character meant so much to her. <br />
<br />
I am sorry if she will no longer read my books. That is up to her.<br />
<br />
CieC. T. Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367074969727494566noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175915.post-67457371277939627662016-10-04T14:59:00.001-07:002016-10-04T14:59:31.593-07:00LAUNCH DAY! MAY IT TAKE OFF LIKE A ROCKETALL YOUR WISHES IS OUT!!! WOOT! <br /><br />VERY EXCITED.<br />
<br />
BUY THE BOOK!<br />
<br />
CieC. T. Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367074969727494566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175915.post-6896885934927088792016-09-25T09:40:00.000-07:002016-09-25T09:40:08.247-07:00The thing about characters is . . . Okay, first off, on the 100 day thing. I have no idea where I'm at. But I've been making progress, and I am happier than I've been in a while overall. Still ups and downs, but at least I don't feel as if I'm stuck any more.<br />
<br />
NOW about the writing. . .<br />
<br />
I've been doing it. Eight pages a day average. Four on each project. Both are going well. Both now require a bit of research, which I am about to do.<br />
<br />
The thing is, I had to write this HUGE disclaimer at the front of the cozy mystery. It is set in a small town. I live in a small town. They are NOT the same small town. There is NOT A SINGLE PERSON in this book that is a reflection of any actual real person I know. Seriously. NOT ONE. I have to say that loudly and repeatedly because I have found that, for some reason, people I know locally want this to be a salacious Peyton Place kind of book that actually mimics reality so that they can try to figure out "who is who". Nobody is. For one thing I DON'T WANT/NEED TO GET MY ASS SUED. For another, most of you guys are really pretty boring. Seriously. Get over it.<br />
<br />
So, anyway, the characters who ARE in the book are the people who have announced themselves to me. And as is frequently the case in my imagination, they sprang forth fully formed and they don't give a fat rat's ass whether I like certain things about them. This is a sample "conversation" in my head with the main character:<br />
<br />
ME: Um, look, I'm not a lesbian. This is going to make it really REALLY hard for me to write you believably. Can I maybe. . .<br />
<br />
MEGAN: Tough shit. I am. Deal with it.<br />
<br />
ME: But . . .<br />
<br />
MEGAN: No buts. I am. You're a writer. Use your imagination. Ask people if you're afraid you've gotten it wrong. But love is love. You've loved people. I know you have. Deal.<br />
<br />
ME: But she's BLIND. I mean, can I at least . . .<br />
<br />
MEGAN: Yes, Beth is blind. It's harder on her than it is you, believe me. If she can handle it, you can write about it. <br />
<br />
AND THIS, my friends, is why my imagination always wins. Because it is filled with hard-asses who are not afraid to stand up for me. And yes, I know, it does make me sound crazy. But apparently the characters in my imagination DO NOT CARE if they drive me crazy. They figure I'm already halfway there. I'm a writer.<br />
<br />
CieC. T. Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367074969727494566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175915.post-18053403023417706682016-09-14T15:30:00.002-07:002016-09-14T15:30:13.109-07:00Crisis of ConfidenceI am not perfect.<br />
<br />
I will never be perfect.<br />
<br />
I try.<br />
<br />
I fail.<br />
<br />
I try again.<br />
<br />
I screw up.<br />
<br />
Sometimes, at about this point, I get discouraged and think, maybe I should pack it in. Seriously, is it time to give up.<br />
<br />
Then I get my back up. Or somebody says something mean and bitchy and I REALLY get my back up. So I try again.<br />
<br />
And holy crapola, I SUCCEED! WOOT, WOOT, I ROCK. I'm AWESOME. I'm so glad I didn't quit.<br />
<br />
And then it's on to the next thing. I feel I've learned. I've grown. How hard can it be?<br />
<br />
And I fail.<br />
<br />
This is life. Progress is not measured in a directly rising angle. It's more of a slow up and down climb through the foothills to the mountains, and eventually a vertical climb up to the summit. <br />
<br />
I get tired. I get discouraged. <br />
<br />
But I'm still climbing.<br />
<br />
So far anyway.<br />
<br />
<br />C. T. Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367074969727494566noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175915.post-36606013392448370102016-09-10T10:24:00.003-07:002016-09-12T06:02:11.918-07:00And we're off (but you knew that).Okay, I am not sure how many days I'm in to the program, but I figure I'm just continually trying to change and grow, so it won't matter so much.<br />
<br /><br />
I have done my exercises. I have been taking my vitamins and the Rx. I have been writing every day. I sent the first part of the mss off to an editor friend for comments. I contacted a thriller author to see if he'd be willing and have time to give me a quote a month or so from now. I have done the newsletter up and got three chapters ready to attach in hopes that the audience will be salivating for the new Celia Graves novel that comes out in a month. <br />
<br /><br />
I have done the motivational and spiritual work that I need to, and ordered the programs and learning materials I need. I have been working on the household stuff, but have not made as much progress on the repairs as I had hoped -- but will work on improving that as well.<br />
<br /><br />
So, all in all, I'm doing well. I'm feeling better physically and emotionally. <br />
<br /><br />
With regard to the thriller, because I'm thinking of self-pubbing it (my publisher is Fantasy/Sci Fi/UF specialist) (and although if the agent thinks otherwise, I may change my mind) if I do I think I'm going to have a section in the back for FSBB (fun stuff in the back of the book) which will have fun stuff like the drawings I do for the floor plans of buildings, a photo I've taken of the water tower with all of the vultures on it (one day there were 126 of them! When you consider these birds are BIG -- say 2 ft tallish that's a LOT of birds/feathers/poop); a copy of the bag packed the way I have the heroine doing it to prove that YES it CAN be done. (She fits a LOT of stuff in that bag. LOL). I may change my mind about it, I do change my mind a lot, but it sounds like a fun thing and it would give readers a little insight into the little things I do to try to make sure that the book is relatively accurate. Not perfectly accurate, but relatively. (I have not ever been a spy, ergo, I am making some of this up from the seat of my pants--but I have done the research.)<br />
<br /><br />
Okay, I have to go. Writing a reminder to the newsletter guru as it didn't go out yesterday. I believe she was out planting trees.<br />
<br /><br />
CieC. T. Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367074969727494566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175915.post-11316833253058596032016-09-03T09:35:00.001-07:002016-09-03T09:35:13.446-07:00GREETINGS AND SALUTATIONS. :)<br />
<br />
Okay, I'm not sure what day it is. I could do the math, but that would require counting back and looking at the first post and the heck with that. Whatever the heck day it is, it is a good one. <br />
<br />
I have been writing. It is going well. I switched from first person to third so that I can add a POV character because the main character cannot be in two places at once. (This is not a sci/fi or fantasy book, it's a thriller). This has meant going through and changing about fifty to sixty pages. But it is worth it. And I am finally, FINALLY feeling like a writer again. Cutting out a lot of passive voice, which is what I fall into when I'm tired. If you ever read passive voice in my books, know that it is in there because I was too exhausted to actually see what I was doing.<br />
<br />
Today is the first day of a 5 day weekend for me. This is awesomeness personified. And I am already kicking butt getting things done. So I get 10 major attagirl points. <br />
<br />
I have been doing a lot of affirmative stuff. <br />
<br />About a year and half to two years ago (yikes) I found a bunch of tape programs in a drawer that were self-help, affirmative, GO FOR IT stuff that was HUGELY helpful to me, and moved me toward being happier and reaching my goals, gave me energy, etc. But they were TAPE programs. This is an issue. It is HARD to find cassette recorders that work. Mine died. Two more that I bought on Amazon died. And now some of the tapes were wearing thin. (Can't say as I blame them. Seriously, it's 2016. I got these in appx. 1992-1995ish. These babies may not have gotten a lot of use (if any) before the past couple of years, but they're OLD. SO, after an attempt that was not entirely successful at getting another tape player, I went onto Amazon as one of my 100 day things and found a couple of the programs that worked best for me on CD, on sale, as cheaply as I would've been able to get another cassette player. Now I know CD's are on their way out too, but I have several things with CD players in them and an old Sony CD player. So I should be set for a while. :)<br />
<br />
So I am back in business on that.<br />
<br />
I had used a particular prayer book daily for a long time. It fell apart. This is a sign that it was useful. SO, as one of my 100 day things I went online and found a store that (fingers crossed) I THINK has the right booklet, and have sent off for it in the mail. :)<br />
<br />
I have not been doing as well on the exercise front. I have to get onto that. But having some time off means I can catch up on housework, and some of the "schtoof" that I've been too behind on so that I use the time to try to keep my life on track rather than making progress to getting the life I want. <br />
<br />
I'm still battling some depression, but it's receding as I get control and take action about the things that were bothering me the most. I'm trying to remember to take my vitamins, etc. regularly. Sleep schedule is still totally screwed, but that's part of the whole stress and no exercise package. Seriously, when I exercise I'm less stressed, sleep better, feel better and accomplish more. But somehow getting myself to do it regularly is HARD. Stupid, but true, and not just for me I think.<br />
<br />
I am now off to do more. Be well. Be happy. Buy books.<br />
<br />
CieC. T. Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367074969727494566noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175915.post-2572292054200333272016-08-30T11:51:00.002-07:002016-08-30T11:51:55.853-07:00Sorry about the rant the other day. Sometimes I just get grumpy. I suspect the same is true of everyone. <br />
<br />
AND NOW FOR THE GOOD NEWS! A couple of the advance reviews of ALL YOUR WISHES are in and they're GOOD! Really good. <br />
<br />
We will now pause for Cie to do the happy dance.<br />
<br />
And now back to our regularly scheduled programming.<br />
<br />
<br />
CieC. T. Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367074969727494566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175915.post-13898647785312075572016-08-27T08:42:00.000-07:002016-08-27T08:42:05.624-07:00OKAY, I didn't really intend for this to turn into a rant, but there you go. Read further at your own risk. <br />
<br />
Days 7 and 8.<br />
<br />
Okay, I'm a week into this and already I'm finding myself having sporadic results. Life gets busy. I get tired. Whatever. It is, however, Saturday again, and hopefully I can accomplish some of the stuff that I didn't get done during the week. Of course this means that the weekend is hectic and I'm still tired when Monday rolls around. But stuff doesn't do itself. None of it. <br /><br />I enjoy being single. I like not having people second-guess what I plan to do and when I want to do it. I like making my own decisions. I LOVE not having somebody say (as every guy I dated did) about the writing "You can do that any time. You don't need to do it now. Sit down, relax, spend a little time with me." <br />
<br />
Now, don't get me wrong, I liked, even loved the guys. But you CAN'T do it any time. There are deadlines, and energy issues and they said it EVERY SINGLE TIME I'd try to write. They'd come to the house when I said "please don't. I'm hitting up against a deadline and really have to work on this all weekend," to check on me, "see how it's going" "how you're doing." Some of them made it clear they thought I wasn't writing at all, I was sneaking off to be with some other guy.<br />
<br />
[For the record. I don't cheat. If we're in a monogamous relationship and I'm not happy with you, I'll either work on it with you or dump your sorry ass. I DON'T CHEAT. I don't like being cheated on--so I figure the guy I'm with wouldn't either.] <br />
<br />
I don't like not being taken seriously. I don't like having people not LISTEN or believe me. I TRULY don't like having a guy be jealous of my career. And make no mistake folks, the writing is the career. The day job is just a paycheck. I'm good at it. I work hard at it. But it is NOT my career.<br />
<br />
SO, since I repeatedly had so much trouble with the men I dated not getting it--and me--I felt I had to make a choice. And I chose me. And while I would love to have somebody in my life who got it, and me, and who thinks I'm just plain wonderful and don't need to change -- I'd really, really, rather be alone than have someone who doesn't.<br />
<br />
So I'm alone. And I'm okay with it 99.8% of the time. When the .2% hits I treat it like a migraine, take something for the pain and sleep it off. <br />
<br />
BUT (You just knew there was a but, didn't you,) when you are alone, you are ALONE. There is no back up. If you fall and dislocate both hips, you're going to be dragging your injured body across the floor to let the EMT's in so that they don't have to break something that you'll have to try to fix later, while injured. <br />
<br />
If things need to be done, you either do it yourself, or you have to pay somebody (or if you're really lucky your friends will look at it and say. "Oh for the love of . . . here, let me help.")<br />
<br />
I'm strong. I'm capable. But I get freaking TIRED people. REALLY REALLY TIRED. And when I get tired I get cranky. <br />
<br />
But shit still doesn't do itself. I've tried to teach Lucky the Wonder Dog to scrub the floors. She isn't interested.<br />
<br />
Which reminds me. She rolled in the dust again, so I need to give her a bath. Add that onto the list for today.<br />
<br />
So, what have I done the past few days. Stuff. <br />
<br />
I've been trying to get exercise (probably managed it 3 or 4 days out of 7). <br />
<br />
I've been cooking and cleaning and doing laundry (which doesn't sound like much, but takes time). <br /><br />
I HAVE WRITTEN EVERY SINGLE DAY!! (Granted, some of it was crap. But I did it. And that's a big deal). <br /><br />
I've been saying my prayers and taking care of my spiritual life.<br />
<br />
I got the LLC back in good standing with the Secretary of State. <br />
<br />
I did some educational videos.<br />
<br />
I paid bills.<br />
<br />
Sometime this weekend I need to go through the backlog of paperwork and start on some home repairs. I've got research to do for the writing. I've got WRITING to do for the writing. I also need to back up my computers because they're starting to act out.<br />
<br />
NOTE TO THE WORLD--I have been hit by lightning. When I get stressed out I fry clocks. I can't wear a watch. And my electronics go weird. I have been stressed. Weirdness has ensued.<br />
<br />
I realize most people don't believe this. They don't have to. Or they can educate themselves by looking up the afteraffects of being hit by lightning. Apparently the crap I experience isn't uncommon for lightning strike survivors. Whatever. <br />
<br />
My personal all time record is going through 11 clocks in 3 months. That's wall clocks, table clocks, the whole schlmiel. It gets pretty expensive. It is also why I carry a cheap "dumb phone" rather than a smartphone. There is no point getting something expensive, programming it, and having it die within a couple of months so that I have to do the whole thing over again. Besides, I am a Luddite. I use my phone as a PHONE.<br />
<br />
Now, I don't know if anybody is going to read this. In fact, I might be happier if they didn't. But I have decided to be honest, and this is about as honest as it gets for today.C. T. Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367074969727494566noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175915.post-39140324451500470352016-08-24T10:36:00.003-07:002016-08-24T10:36:58.002-07:00Days 5 and 6.<br />
<br />
Okay, Day 5 I did diddly squat. I was tired, cranky, and needed clean clothes for work. I ran nine bazillion errands (okay, maybe it only FELT like nine bazillion, but it really did FEEL that way) and I only managed to write a couple of paragraphs because it was a transition scene and I was having one of THOSE days where it all looks like crap and the temptation is to hit the delete key and just dump it all. (To quote my son when he used to live at home "PUT YOUR HANDS UP! STEP AWAY FROM THE KEYBOARD!")<br />
<br />
Today has just been crazy busy thus far--so I'm not expecting to make much progress on anything today either. But somehow or other I'm going to get things back on track by tomorrow.<br />
<br />
Best.<br />
<br />
CieC. T. Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367074969727494566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175915.post-42706433504391220392016-08-22T05:58:00.001-07:002016-08-22T05:58:18.450-07:00Day 4 -- I walked to work today. It was sprinkling, which made it less fun than it could have been, but I made it on time and am glad of it. <br />
<br />
I didn't accomplish as much as I wanted over the weekend. I mostly rested and prayed, both of which were needed to help me get my head on straight. <br />
<br />
I have precisely one minute before I have to be at work, so I will say Goodbye. I'll let you know tomorrow what I accomplished today and my hopes for tomorrow.<br />
<br />
CieC. T. Adamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367074969727494566noreply@blogger.com0