Burning Down Montana – Chapter Six


Vesta stood on the porch of the ranch home of Grant Stone with a cup of coffee in her hands.    After being discharged from the hospital, she realized she didn’t want to necessarily just sit in a hotel room for the rest of her time in Montana.     She was never good at being stationary.    Moving from one job to the next was her thing, and she would normally have her cell phone in her hand right now, booking the next show.   Felix, had been a no show, and that wasn’t like him.     Vinny actually insisted that they go and see what the ranch was all about.

The wonderstruck look on her twin’s face screamed seven-year old and not their thirty-seven years of age.   She couldn’t resist.  Honestly, she was a little curious herself, the closest she’d been to a horse were the occasional mounted police on the Strip, but in her line of work, fireworks and animals don’t mix.

Brighton insisted on driving them over,  and it was two against one.  She had to admit, after a steak dinner surrounded by women she felt a kindred spirit with, she was glad she came.  Hearing the stories about how Samara and Layla came to the town captivated her.   They weren’t just some stay at home, kept women.  Samara, had been a top-notch financial analyst, but was the first to fall when cuts had to be made at her brokerage firm.    Layla’s tale of being a detective in one of America’s most dirty and corrupt cities reminded her so much of her own glass ceiling, wall, floor, door and every damn barrier she could think of when she went out for bids.   Although times have gotten better, it is indeed a grueling and slow climb to gain some measure of equality in what is deemed a typically male role.

However, here, it is almost as is this town was in some type of vortex.   The men, Chase, Grant, Brighton, Bradford all took care of the home, or the ranch, welcoming guests, and even cooking the meals while taking tours of the mountains.  Meanwhile,  Samara was elected to the town treasury not to mention advises the accounts of most of the stores in town.  Layla quickly became a deputy sheriff in town, and even the snarly Katrina, whose nickname “Wildcat” fit to a tee, was quickly escalating the ranks in the ATF.

Continue Reading – Click Here Burning Down Montana, Chapter Six

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Burning Down Montana – Chapter 5


He didn’t know what caused her  abrupt change of mood, or what made her start calling him Thorn,  but he wasn’t going to let her shut him out so easily.

“Come then, put some slippers on your feet.”  When you have a twin as cold as Bradford, he knew exactly how to get through her cool façade.  He could see right through her and he knew that it would be asking too much to have her develop feelings for him, but he could also tell that is exactly what she was trying to prevent.  How I adore challenges.

He watched her movements as she slipped into the hospital socks.  Making sure there was a comfortable distance between them, he led them through the small hospital to the lounge.  He’d seen there was a seat by the window that had a majestic view of the snow capped mountains.   He’d hoped that the stillness of the mountains would bring peace to her mind and not make her want to close her mind to him.

Watching her closely to make sure she didn’t hurt the bandaged shoulder, Brighton didn’t want to offer her too much help.  If there was anything he’d learned from being around  strong women like Layla and Samara, is that if he offered too much help, he was going to get his head bitten off.

“So tell me about you,” he said as he slid into the seat opposite of her.    It was early enough in the morning where the sun began to rise high above the mountain tops, casting a golden glow over her skin.   I would love the opportunity to sit across from her on more mornings like this.    The restless feeling he’d grown to live with eased when he was in her presence.

“There isn’t much to tell.    I was born outside of Vegas, and have pretty much remained there.   I travel for work, and Vin is a pilot.”

“Oh there is more to you than that.   I noticed you didn’t drink your coffee, you cherished it.  What’s your favorite blend?”

“French.”

“French, bah…” Rolling his eyes mockingly and clutched his heart, “I’ll have to forget you said that.  You strike me as someone who would enjoy a Sumatra or Ethiopian blend.  They have more character and flavor notes.”

“Normally, you would be right, but when I need a swift kick in the guts to get my ass in gear, French is the only option.”

“Yes, the French are like that.”   She grinned at him.  Her smile was astounding.  Her cheeks actually dimpled when she did.  He wondered if those were laugh lines or scowl marks around her full lips.  He couldn’t help but to think about sucking on the plump bottom lip she’d bitten trying to not laugh out loud.

“Alright, England, so what do you like to drink?”

“I grew up drinking tea with breakfast and lunch, but after being in Afghanistan and in America, I’ve come to enjoy the taste of coffee in the morning.  I suppose I would’ve gotten used to coffee if I lived in Vegas because I surely would never get a full night’s rest.”

“Mmmph, it was too quiet here, I barely slept all night.”  He watched as she moved her pawn forward.

“I can think of many ways to keep you up all night that would make you need sleep.” She crossed her arms in front of her and hitched her arched eyebrow at him.  “Hunting for nightcrawlers, counting stars, and crossing a desert come to mind.”

Continue Reading >>>>>  Burning Down Montana – Chapter 5

Burning Down Montana – Chapter Four


“So why did you have to thank me, England?”

“You’ve inspired me pet.  I’m here to sign up for the emergency responders.  According to Dr. Daniels, there’s an opening.” His smile, stretching from ear to ear, showed how enthused he was and his eyes danced with his announcement.   Boy he wears his emotions all over his face.  She couldn’t help but to be moved by his eagerness and returned his smile.

“So y’all have names for each other now?  She must really be grateful to you man, my twin doesn’t give out nicknames and she hates being called anything but Vesta.”   Vinny took a sip of his coffee without breaking eye contact with Brighton.    If Vinny had hair on his head, it would be standing up by now.   Her brother’s bald head was a beacon for determining what was going through his head, and right now, a vein was bulging on the right side of his dome.   I know that vein.  He’s going to strike first and ask questions later.    She knew she had to stop the standoff of male hormones or she was going to be in the middle of who knows what, but she knew family always stuck together, no matter what.

“Shut up Vin or I’ll let these strangers know what we called you when we were little.”  Turning her head back to Brighton, she noticed the twinkle of laughter in his eyes.  His eyes really are magnificent. 

Continue Reading Here Burning Down Montana – Chapter Four

Burning Down Montana – Chapter Two


ALL RIGHTS RESERVED – COPYRIGHT

Vesta could smell.   She could smell the bleach,  the aerosol of linen and the stench of awful hospital food.  Hospitals, plainly, sucked, and she hated them.  She immediately wanted out.  In her mind, she could feel herself turning to move, as if she could walk away from the smell and the hospital.   Her body, however, didn’t respond quite the way she had imagined.  Her arms and legs hit metal.  Well son of a bitch.

“Are you trying to go somewhere pet?”  Ah, she could hear too, and she could hear a man with an English accent calling a her a fucking pet? She tried to turn toward the direction of the voice only to have searing pain tear through her left side.   She couldn’t scream,  but the pain was enough to spring tears to her eyes and she felt the salty water run down hehr cheeks.

“Ahh pet, don’t cry.    Don’t move either, its going to hurt.”   She could hear the voice had gotten closer,  and she was in no condition to protest as she felt large,  warm fingers swipe away the tears from her cheeks.  There was an odd comfort in his touch,  he must have been a doctor, no one had ever touched her and made her feel safe.   She opened her eyes, not that it did her any good as she couldn’t see past the thin layer of guaze.  The blinding flourescnet lights overhead made the doctor look like a very big blur.

“Oh my, damnit Vesta!”   at the sound of her brother’s voice, she wanted to turn and smile, but she held back, remembering what the last attempt to move did to her.

“Doc, what happened?”

“I’m not the doctor.”….

Continue reading at the link below…

https://nevealane.wordpress.com/burning-down-montana-chapter-one/burning-down-montana-chapter-two/

 

 

Interviewing the Italian – Chapter Six – A Tense Rising


Chapter Six

 

The guards must have arrived during dinner with my things. As I found my way back to my room, I saw that my suitcases were waiting for me. I slowly unpacked and tried to think of how I ended up where I am. This was not how I planned anything to play out. From an interview, I turn into personal journalist, from personal journalist, I turn into mistress. Who uses that word? Shrugging my shoulders, I sighed,it would be the same person with carpet in his dining room and a rendering of the Creation of Adam on his foyer ceiling. It was Augostino Romani, the same man I craved before I knew him.  The need for a shower, a cold one, overwhelmed me. At least I didn’t have to go looking for a bathroom; there was one in the bedroom I occupied. Rummaging through a few of my things, I found my lavender body wash and something comfortable to wear My lucky green and navy blue flannel short shorts, the ones too indecent to wear anywhere but to bed were also in the bag. After finally finding a  tank top and laying them on the bed, I walked into the bathroom with a fluffy white towel, I felt my jaw drop and drool begin to form. Talk about being too scared to mess anything up! This whole place was out of my league. As I turned on the lights, soft yellow track lighting illuminated and danced on the black marble floor. Hurrying on to the rug because I thought the marble would be cold to my naked feet, I was surprised the marble was actually warm. Heated tile floors, of course, why wouldn’t he have heated floors? There was a stand up shower incased in mirrored glass. There was also a deep old fashioned black porcelain footed tub. While it would have been fun to soak in that magnificent tub, I would have fell asleep in it and drowned.  Opting for the shower, I turned on the brass handled faucets and jumped as soft jets of water came from all three walls.  I’ll be damned if this place didn’t have everything. I’m no gold-digger, but this assignment had some perks.  Stepping into the shower, I lost myself under the undulating spray of the water.  Working up a good lather and beginning at my feet I soaped every inch of skin I could reach, trying to wash away the confusion of the day and trying to remember who and what I was.  I knew I was Yvonne Mason, a writer, a journalist. Unfortunately the nagging thought that I was trying to avoid as I rinsed the soapy foam from my breasts and watched the foam swirl and whirl down the drain hit me with the force of a punch in the gut. No, I was now Yvonne Mason, Augostino Romani’s mistress. Turning the handles to the shower so hard they squeaked,  I stomped out of the shower and wrapped the towel around my waist. So much for lavender aromatherapy, I was agitated all over again. Trying to slow my breathing as I got dressed and rubbed lavender scented baby oil over my skin.  Even after laying down under the thick down comforter, I was still restless. It wasn’t that I was upset that August asked me to pretend to be his mistress, I realized as I lie awake staring at the vaulted ceiling.   I was upset because I reacted to his touches and his simple kiss to my forehead.  Damn, if that wasn’t a playboy move! A forehead kiss could make any woman want to trust you even if she knew better. Forehead kisses on a five year celibate woman like me, and she would be throwing her panties at you.  Hating myself for falling for his smooth tactics, I threw the covers off me and punched my pillow.  How could I have been so gullible?

I gave up all pretense of sleep at around five in the morning.  Groaning, I grudgingly got out of the bed. Knowing that I would be even crankier unless I got some form of release, I started to pull open drawers and see what else I’d remembered to scribble down on that list I gave to his guards.  My mind was still caught up on a simple forehead kiss. What was wrong with me?. No better way to do that than to work it out of me. As I started to unpack my things  and putting them into drawers, I noticed there was a simple one piece black swimsuit folded nicely.  It was not one of the things that I would have remembered, but August would have.   Knowing August, who was a swimmer, there had to be a pool around here somewhere and that was perfect for me to work out my frustration.  I smirked at his uncanny ability to always think ahead.   Swimming was the perfect adrenaline rush or, at least, I hoped holding my breath until it felt like my lungs were bursting would get the feeling of his lips on my head out of my mind.   Being someone’s mistress was over my head. The people I was used to hanging around ate Buffalo wings and pizza darn near every night and screamed at the football games on TV. We watched ESPN at every chance and CNN when we could not get the sports fix we craved.  As I slipped on the swimsuit and tied a towel around my waist, it occurred to me that I could not let my mom know beforehand that there was going to be a lot of press about me and August and none of it was true.  Walking out of my room, I let intuition lead me where I would think a pool would be, but truthfully, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.  My thoughts were on my gold-digging sister who would be running to the tabloids telling lies. Then the cover would be blown. I smacked my forehead. Wait a minute, covers blown? Who was I, Elliot Ness?  I looked up and was glad that no one was around, I had been mumbling to myself as I wandered the halls looking for the pool. Looking up I tried to remember which way I came, but  I came up blank. . Tying the towel tighter around my one piece swimsuit, I  followed the bright light streaming from one hall.  As I walked down the marbled floor, I could hear birds chirping and knew I had to be close to the outside. Shielding my eyes against the rising sun, I opened the glass double doors to what should be  a backyard, but this was not a backyard. There was a huge pool, yet there was also a tennis court and what appeared to be a hot tub as well as a bar. Shaded next to the bar was a gazebo. This is where he must host his grand parties.  With everything that was on my mind, I didn’t even care.  Unused to this type of luxury, I just wanted to work my body until I got good and tired. I dropped the towel from my waist and stalked over to the pools edge. I stretched my arms up and dove into the deep clear water. This couldn’t possibly be my reality. At any moment I was going to wake up and have a column due. I am not a spy, heck I can’t keep secrets worth a damn, and I was not the sophisticated femme fatale that should be going to parties at the Italian embassy.  My arms were hitting the water at full speed and I executed my turn flawlessly.  With each thought that came to my mind, I hit the water harder, racing full speed through the length of the pool and back again.  My lungs were hurting but I could not stop.

Reality was stepping in.   Facts began to hit me such as the fact that August had checked me out before this mistress thing.  Was that his plot all along to compromise me in some way shape or form?   What exactly was his plan of action.  Last night his plan seemed simple, but in the dawn of a fresh day, it seems farfetched  and illogical. I’d forgotten what lap and didn’t care that I was probably overdoing it as I pondered every question in my head.  My mother wouldn’t take this as a joke or as an undercover assignment, she wouldn’t find it funny, and she would tear my head off for shacking up with a man I just met.  Thinking about what my mother would think made my thoughts turn angry.   I shouldn’t care what she thinks since I was merely a glorified gopher to her.   Then thinking about my sister and brother and I know damn well that they would be calling my cell phone every five minutes for favors.    I couldn’t do this. Making  up my mind to tell August thanks but no thanks, find another mistress, I was ready to vacate the pool.my hand met a rock hard chest.  That is definitely not the cool pool lining I had been touching. I didn’t want to open my eyes. I knew who it was; my body knew who it was. My hand stayed where it was, not by my choice, but by August’s hand covering it.  I finally got up the nerve to wipe the chlorinated water from my eyes and looked at him.   He was already drenched. his breathing was ragged as well.   Had he been in the pool for long?

“You should stop before you get a cramp.” His voice was rich and deep, even if he was trying to catch his breath.  “You have been at it for a while.” His voice was husky, soothing as if he was concerned. Unfortunately, from the tumultuous thoughts I had been mulling over, I felt like I was a poor guppy sitting in a pool with a shark.

“Thanks for the concern; I am on my way out.” I said coldly as I tugged my hand. I was going to swim the opposite direction but he held it to his chest.  I looked up at his eyes and yep, there is the cool blue gaze. I tried to give him an impatient look, raising my eyebrow, and shifting my lips to the side of my face.

“You have a lot on your mind?” Although he posed it as a question, it seemed more like a statement.

I shook my head no and tugged at my hand again. He was not letting go.

“I beg to differ, Yvonne, you didn’t seem to notice that I was taking laps at the other end, and that I had been swimming next to you for the past four laps.”

“I am good, really.  I just haven’t swam in a long time. It was the adrenaline rush. I got in a zone.” I rushed out. He pursed his lips together and pulled me close to him. He was staring into my eyes, as if he was searching for the truth switch. All he was doing was escalating my temperature and making me really think this was a mistake.  His thumb began to stroke the top of my hand and I decided to focus there, it was easier than trying to look at him and tread water. I was watching his tan thumb circle my hand and I became hypnotized. I refused to let my gaze roam to what I knew was his sculpted shoulders and toned abs.  I wasn’t fat, but his perfect body made me feel even more inadequate. There was no way someone would believe I was his mistress. We are too different.

“If you are having doubts, we can reconsider this. I don’t want you to be scared…” His calm voice knocked me out of my deliberations.

“Scared?” My voice sounded like a squeak. I roughly cleared my throat. Scared was the last thing I was. “I am not scared, August. I have some concerns.  I mean, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course, but I told you I will take care of your concerns.” I rolled my eyes heavenward and let out a little huff.

“Alright, then you can talk to my mother when she calls.” I huffed.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“She reads all that tabloid fodder and gossip columns that should be lining the bottom of a bird cage. She is going to pitch a fit… furthermore, that means that I can’t do damage control before tonight’s little shindig because what if one of my friends spill the beans, so that means no contact with them either.” I shook my head at my own babbling.  I was making my own head hurt.  “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to explode on you.” At that August quirked his eyebrow and pulled me closer.  If I was not mistaken, there was something in his swim trunks trying to get out.  Please let it be an eel and not what it feels like.  August’s head dipped to my ear and I felt the ‘it’ hit the inside of my thigh. Oh Lord, the ‘it’ was big.

“Do not say things like ‘explode on me’ and not expect to get a reaction out of me.” Then with his free hand, his fingers danced down my back and then he pinched my butt.  I gasped and pushed away.  I quickly got out of the pool and looked behind me. August was standing there with his hand on his hips and I think got out of the pool with the devil himself.

THE NEXT BIG THING – Blog Hop


BLOG HOP-The Next Big Thing

Okay, I was tagged for the BLOG HOP- The Next Big Thing

Thank you to Kimmie Thomas from http://shereallysaidit.wordpress.com.  Now, I’ve blogged and ranted, but I’ve never hopped, so this should really be fun.

The rules for the Blog Hop are as follows:

*****Give credit to the person/blog that tagged you

*****Post the rules for the blog hop

*****Answer these ten questions about the current WIP (Work in Progress) on your blog

*****Tag five other writers/bloggers and add their links so we can hop over and meet them.

Ten Interview Questions for the Nest Big Thing:

What is the working title of your book?

I’ve been real busy.  First there was Falling Leaves in Autumn which is out now.

 

Right now, I’ve submitted one story for a new series I am working on, Midnight and Mayhem.  It is my first foray into paranormal with a sexy vampire.  It is is the editing stage now.

Next on my list is a Christmas Domination tale that will be placed with a very special publishing house (Shara Azod, some of you may know her) I’m working on the plot line now, although I might need to  post some thoughts on my blog to get some feedback.  This one is going to be way way different and outside the box, so stay tuned for that.

Where did the idea come from for the book?

Like any fiction writer, I think a bit of our stories always involve real life scenarios.  Some of us write true to life scenarios and take only a bit of creative license.

What genre does your book fall under?

Romantica? Romance with a little Erotica? Erotic?  I can’t be pigeonholed but you can bet your bottom dollar it will be hot.

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

I would love to see Eric Bana play Clark Pinot in Falling Leaves in Autumn..  He is so Clark  and I think I was watching him in an Adam Sandler movie when I came up with the character of Clark.

What is the one sentence synopsis of your book?

Never judge a book by its cover.

Will your book be self published or represented by an agency?

I use several publishers but my absolutely favorites are Beautiful Trouble Publishing, Mocha Memoirs Press and Shara Azod Presents.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

That depends on what manuscript I am working on.  I can write one in a week or take several months to draw it out.  For example, my free read, Private Dancer took me a year to write.  So I guess I should say that all depends.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

I think my books are more like movies.  Since I practice safe short writing I try to start with a bang and end with a bang.   So if I were to label my writing style it is like Crash or  Mobsters. 🙂

Who or What inspired you to write this book?

Falling Leaves in Autumn was inspired by life events.  I tried so hard to keep my husband a ‘late night snack’ he just kept getting into my heart and mind and eventually became my husband.

What else about your book might piqué the reader’s interest?


It is written in first person, but the characters do come alive.  I know that is the biggest issue with some who write in first person is getting to know the other characters.

The writers I’m tagging are:

http://sherrodstory.wordpress.com

http://valloryv.wordpress.com

http://roslynhardyholcomb.com/

http://musetracks.wordpress.com

http://liviaellis.com

Tag!

Well That was fun…  I hope everyone can participate.

 

Pulling, Tugging, Screaming and Finally a Hot Toddy


To borrow a line from one of my favorite lyricists, “Some people ask where the fuck I’ve been; shit I don’t know, but what I do know, is that I’m back now!” (Eminem, “Underground”, Relapse)

Where have I been?

I will only answer that if you promise not to squeal, scream or tell my probation officer (The probation thing is a long story). I’ve been trying something deliciously new.  I’ve been attempting to write with a plot line.  Rarely do I ever actually plot a story.  More often than not, I’ll hear a line in a song, or hear a funny anecdote and I take off running, and my fingers will only leave the keyboard long enough to wipe my brow.

I know, I know.  Some true writers will probably want to blow up my condo with a nuclear missile for that approach.  However, it works for me.  Except on this last particular story.  I haven’t been in the habit of posting excerpts of work in progress lately because of the fact that there are some characters that I’m keeping close to my heart, but my work, before it is edited, is probably atrocious.   If you’ve read most of the free works that I’ve posted here, you realize that I don’t contract all that much.  So one new approach that I’m trying is to actually contract while writing instead of going back and using the beloved ‘find and replace’ feature.

Still not answering the question of where you’ve been Nevea….

I digress then.   Where I’ve been is writing.  I hate going back and re-reading what I’ve written.  (If you ask how do I edit and re-write, it is this simple, I usually start over).  So I’ve gotten to read some of the things that I’ve written, and I found myself wishing things like, this should have been longer, or his eyes should have been blue. So how does one deal with those I Wishes? I just do it.  I’ve got enough chips on my shoulder and so on where I don’t need another one, so I would rather re-write it than wish I had.     When do we get to the point where we just stop wishing?  So I did it.  I’ve begun the process of re-writing some of the works you’ve seen here.  Stay tuned on what happens with these free reads.

Now, I’m working on some delicious stories with my beloved publisher; and I wish I could tell you just how delicious these stories are, but I’m still tweaking and working various plot twists.  But I can tell you this much, they are longer.

Speaking of longer, and you would have had to been there to understand, I just celebrated my birthday for about a week.  A week-long celebration for a heck of a milestone… one over the big 3-0.   Why would I celebrate that occasion for a week?  We don’t do things for ourselves often enough with purely selfish intentions.  We, as people, do things because it seems like the right thing to do, or it would look good in someone else’s eyes.   This is commendable, respectable even, but that is why I chose to do a 180║ on my moral compass.

I hung out late, stayed up for two days straight, had great times with friends and lived each day as a celebration.   At the end of the week, I caught a cold but it was so worth every single minute of living each moment to its fullest, and it gave me an excuse to have a hot toddy and nurse my cold.

So there is an update on where I’ve been.   Just wait till you see where I’m going…

Conclusion – Private Dancer – Chapter 12


This is it… the conclusion.   I know the writing could use some work, but like I said, I wrote this story a long long time ago, and have merely tweaked some things here and there.  I couldn’t let the character’s go, but I couldn’t let the story die altogether now could I?

Here it is… the conclusion to Private Dancer:  http://wp.me/PRJAl-3l