Save the World - Kill the Warrior!

Now available!

Former soldier Erik Harrison is a dead man walking. The sole survivor of an ambush, the guilt of losing his friends is crushing. He questions his own sanity, remembering the vision he saw as he was dying –– a battle angel come to collect his friends' souls. 

Valkyrie Brenna Lund doesn't know why she failed in her duty to reap Erik's soul on the battlefield. He deserves his place with the other mighty warriors in Valhalla, and if she wants to return home, she has to kill him. 

There are consequences for betraying the gods. But the closer Brenna and Erik become, the more they both want to risk everything for a future together. If only an immortal hunter weren’t sent to kill them both.

Excerpt:

Freyja spied into your heart and knew you wouldn't be able to do it. She knew even before you did.

It should have been easy to take a tired, weary warrior. Even one like Erik.

The question now was why? This was the second time failing in her duty and she was no closer to finding out why.

She rubbed her face with her palm.

Brenna got to her feet and walked toward the bathroom.

Maybe there was some sort of clue about him, something she could pick up. Her only memory of him before tonight had been almost a year ago and under very different circumstances.

The door was ajar, the water running. She edged close enough to look in.

The breath caught in her throat as she gazed at Erik Harrison, his bare torso gleaming with sweat in the dim light. The shredded remains of his shirt lay on the floor along with his jeans and shoes, kicked to the side in a jumbled heap. He wore only a pair of tight boxer briefs riding low on his hips.

It wasn't like she didn't know what a naked man looked like. Berserkers donned a scrap of bear fur as armor as they charged into battle, racing to a glorious death. Armored knights rode, encased in metal charging onto the battlefield. Soldiers from all times and places sat together in the Halls, fought every day and celebrated all night. She'd seen them all.

Including Erik, in the cage only a few hours ago, facing his opponent and going down to defeat wearing much the same as he had on now.

But this... this was different.

He wasn't perfect, far from it. Erik's chest was dotted with white puckered scars, some the size of nickels and others as short slashes. As he turned she saw his back and other, older marks showing previous battles. Yet it didn't seem to detract from the power coming off him in waves, the silent strength evident with every move, every shift of his body. The muscles were tight and well-defined, not an inch of fat on his frame.

He winced as he pressed a damp cloth to the mottled bruises over his left rib cage. Matty had focused in on that during the fight and it showed. The swollen cut over his eye had stopped bleeding and was already going down but it still warranted a cleaning and a fresh bandage.

She couldn't take her eyes off him. The toned muscles seemed to be calling to her urging her to soothe his distress with her touch, offer to take the pain away somehow. Images flashed through her mind of the couples she'd seen in the shadows of the Great Halls, lovers stealing away for some private time before the never-ending battles started at dawn.

Brenna clenched her fingers, digging her nails into the skin to stay still. A flash of heat between her legs shocked her and she pressed her knees together, cursing in silence.

What is this madness?

***

Now available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble and many other ebook stores! 

Let's get ready to go IN THE VOID with a free short story!

With only a few weeks before IN THE VOID comes out it's time to look in on the Bonnie Belle and see what our favorite courtesans have been up to since the amazing events of IN THE BLACK!

***
“This is insane. And I love it.” Sam put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “You should write this up for one of those engineering ‘zines, Jen.”

They were floating in the corridor in front of the door leading to the landing bay, all of them crammed into the hallway.

The mechanic beamed. “Don’t give me all the credit. It took Belle only a few seconds to calculate how to fire the thrusters to back us up into position after venting our atmosphere. No more difficult than trying to maneuver into some of those little docking bays on the smaller mining bases.”

Sean clutched his medical bag tightly, straining to hear the smallest whisper of air escaping. Of all the deaths he’d seen and imagined, dying by suffocation or explosive decompression ranked up at the top.

“Sort of threading a needle, isn’t it?” Kendra had changed into a dark red track suit and leaned against the wall, floating with her arms crossed. “How are you going to get the pod through the hatch? It’s barely enough for us to get through, and the life pod’s got to be larger than the person it’s carrying, right?”

Jenny laughed. “Not through the hatch, silly.” She flapped her arms, reminding Sean of a flightless bird attempting takeoff. “There’re larger doors on each side we pop open for delivery of supplies. Bring the skids in piled with whatever you want or need—furniture, mattresses, the bigger items that can’t be broken down. If we had to bring everything through the single door we’d never get loaded in time.” She rapped on the door with her knuckles. “How we doing, Belle?”

“We have successfully backed up and captured the life pod,” the AI announced. “I am now preparing to seal the bay and restore atmosphere.”

“Any problems?” Sam swam up and down the short hallway, brushing by the gathered crew with each pass. “Life signs still good?”

“All is well with the survivor.” A roaring came from beyond the closed hatch, reminding Sean of a vacuum cleaner. “I estimate two minutes before you may retrieve the pod.”

Sean watched Sam make another circuit before speaking. “She’s got enough oxygen until then, right?” The last thing they needed was to go to all this work and lose the survivor at the last second.

“Affirmative. The pod is undamaged from the debris field. We have also captured other bits and pieces in the bay from the ship.”

Jenny rubbed her hands together. “Salvage. I doubt there’ll be much I can use on the Belle but who knows?”

Sam nodded. “About the debris...Were you able to avoid any biological, Belle?”

Translation—were they going to open the door to a horror of broken bodies and shredded arms and legs?

Sean saw April look down and mutter a soft prayer.

“Yes, Captain. By the time we were able to approach any and all biologicals were at a goodly distance, scattered among the ship’s remains. We captured only the life pod.” A loud pop came from behind the hatch. “Full atmosphere returned. You may enter at your convenience.”

Jenny twisted the handle and shoved hard on the hatch. It swung open with a whoosh of fresh, cool air, allowing them into the landing bay. She stepped back to give them all a clear view.

The sixty square feet of empty space in the back of the Belle wasn’t made to do much else than store equipment and serve as a holding pen for waiting customers. Sean used the open area as a jogging track, cycling past the tables and chairs strapped to the walls.

“Why aren’t we watching via the cameras?” Bianca whispered to him, a tremor underlying her words. “There’s a feed coming through, right? We could be in the galley and far away from this.” She gestured toward Jenny and Sam.
“Let them take the risk. They can call you in later.”

He couldn’t blame Bianca for her caution. She’d lost Halley not so long ago. The last thing she needed was to see more death.

He had seen enough for both of them.

“This sort of thing you need to see up close and personal,” Sean replied. “Can’t judge anything through a lens.”

Sam went through first with Jenny close behind. Sean swam through with the other four courtesans following.

“Be careful,” Sam warned. “Don’t smack your head on something.”

Debris floated around them, the largest no more than a fistful. Most of it seemed to be pieces of the hull with the occasional engine piece here and there.

It smelt too fresh. Belle had overdone the air freshener. There was something wrong about swimming through the remains of someone’s life with the laundry-fresh scent clogging up your lungs.

The life pod spun end over end in the landing bay. Sean swam over to the cylinder and grabbed one of the handles, steadying the pod. He looked in the viewport.

A wide-eyed woman stared at him, her mouth open as she screamed something unintelligible.

Welcome to the Bonnie Belle.

***

It's going to be another rocky ride for the men and the women on board the Bonnie Belle again as they find themselves the target of space pirates determined to relieve them of their cargo and possibly their lives.

Pre-order this new voyage on the Bonnie Belle at Amazon, B&N, iBooks and Carina Press!

And while you're waiting to board check out this FREE short story! Interlude 1.1 is available at Amazon, B&N, Smashwords, and many other ebook retailers including Overdrive and ebook lending services.

Out on the edge of civilization anything and everything can happen - especially when you're not ready for it.

When Jenny, the chief mechanic for the Bonnie Belle hops off to work a deal with the local black market she ends up bargaining for more than just fresh fruit.



It's a good time to come on board the Belle - why not see what the fuss is all about?

"In the Black" excerpt!

It's been a great few weeks with the release of the first book from my new "Tales from the Edge" series, "In the Black"! But you can never have enough excerpts, right?

So let's see how Sam Keller feels sitting on a Mercy ship with everyone getting sex except for her...

*****

It wasn’t as if she didn’t have options. Hell, she was the captain of a Mercy ship and had full access to the services and personnel within. She could purchase an hour from Sean or, if she were really desperate, Dane.

A fast hour of quick, meaningless sex with no commitment, nothing but a financial transaction between a professional and a customer.

The option wasn’t unheard of. It’d even earned a short notation in the manual, detailing the costs and the discount offered to the captain.

There was nothing wrong with it.

Nothing, that is, other than the embarrassment of having to face him later on as his captain, not a client. She hadn’t slept with any of the men in her squad for the same reason, and even though she wasn’t wearing a uniform anymore the same rules still applied, at least in her mind.

Look but don’t touch. Save that for the long nights strapped in her hammock when she could fantasize about whatever or whomever she wanted without fear or guilt.

But would it be enough for the rest of her contract?

Or should she make an appointment with Sean and get it over with, shut down the longing and the need to be touched?

It wasn’t like he’d use it against her, not like Dane would. That bastard wouldn’t let it go and would be rubbing her face in it every time he had a problem and Sam ruled against him.

No, it’d have to be Sean.

But the risks still outweighed the benefits.

For now.

Sam sighed. She wasn’t at that point yet. But it was on the horizon and she knew it.

She shifted in her seat. It wasn’t so much the sex; it was the basic need to touch and be touched. Held, stroked, hugged.

Not that there was anything wrong with hot, sweaty, crazed sex. But her skin ached for the simple sensation of being caressed, fingertips drawing lazy circles on her back until she fell asleep. Goosebumps rising from a gentle kiss, gasping at the sensations traveling over her body from a simple touch.

Damn it, she had it bad.

She wasn’t going to pay Sean to just cuddle, not at those rates.

Time to shift gears before she got beyond frustrated and said or did something she’d regret.

*****

What's a woman to do? Buy a night with one of her Mercy men or...

;)

Check out "In the Black" at Amazon, B&N, Carina Press or other fine ebook retailers!

Crowdsourcing Part Two: Platform, Platform, Platform

"Don't you know she's pooped?!"
(Madeline Kahn as Lili von Shtupp in Blazing Saddles)

Yeah, I know May is supposed to be "The Lusty Month" here at Beyond the Veil, but I'm not in the mood. I'm too tired--the principal cause of lost libido across all sectors of society, according to a study I read some time ago, which I'm too tired to look up.

The cause of my exhaustion is six weeks spent pitching, hawking, shilling and strong-arming people into supporting Monkeying Around for a Good Cause, the Indiegogo campaign to help fellow SF/Fantasy writer and beloved curmudgeon CJ Henderson in his battle with cancer.

I don't regret a minute of the time or the effort. As always when the writing community pulls together for one of their own, I'm awed by the kindness of strangers and how a writer's reach can extend far beyond their words. I'm also so grateful to my fellow bloggers at Beyond the Veil for letting me pimp the campaign here, when most of them don't know CJ. BtV's own Sheryl Nantus was even in line to write a story for one of the stretch goals.

But we didn't get there. We did great by most measures. The final tally was $10,000, 33 percent above our fully funded level, but when you compare that with Athena's Daughters, which funded at five times it's initial level...

Which brings us to the meat of today's blog. The determining factor in the two campaigns was not the product. The anthology built around CJ was awesome. The campaign was packaged by the same team, and had the same crazy band of hucksters pounding the social media. No, the determining factor was the platform.

Indiegogo has less than one-tenth the reach of Kickstarter.

So why didn't we go with Kickstarter? We couldn't. Despite having a guaranteed deliverable, Kickstarter called it a charity and wouldn't touch it. Silence in the Library Publishing argued against this every which way. But Kickstarter would not be swayed.

As someone later explained to me, Kickstarter wants to see itself as the ultimate boutique emporium, the place for the rare and rarefied, patronized by all the Cool Kids. But its users are all about the bargains. They want to buy in cheap on the ground floor of something that will later give them bragging rights. Charity falls outside the emporium model. Charity means funding an intangible, which might as well be giving something for nothing.

With that outlook, it's not surprising Kickstarter won't touch what it defines as charity. (How it defines all those "deliverables" that never show up is another matter, but I digress.) I wonder if the founders realize their stance is essentially saying: Charity Isn't Cool. I also wonder if they'd care.

It didn't help that in the middle of the campaign Indiegogo faced its own deliverables crisis, and muffed it royally. But that, too, is a digression, because even before the kerfuffle hit, our numbers were still below our Kickstarter numbers by a factor of three.

So, the takeaway? If you're looking to crowdsource a product, hie thee to Kickstarter. You'll start out in a better place and stay there. However, if for some reason you need to go to Indiegogo, Go-Fund-Me or some other platform, offer to decapitate someone by name in your next story. The crowd will go wild.

But that, my sweets, is a story for another day. Can't you see I'm pooped?!

Jean Marie Ward

Thursday Thirteen: Thirteen Reasons to Monkey Around for a Good Cause

May Day!  May Day!  May Day!

We have an emergency here. The clock is running down on an important Indiegogo campaign and opportunity to support one of American genre fiction's national treasures, CJ Henderson.

CJ is down for the count with a horrible cancer, and under treatment (we all know what that's like--horrible!) is in no condition to write or sell at cons, his sole source of income.  So some of the top writers in fantasy, science fiction and romance (why hello, Sheryl Nantus!) have come together in an anthology where all the proceeds except shipping and mailing go straight to CJ.  And those of you who know what a rigorous bitch I am know I don't make such claims lightly.

What's in it it for you? Let me count the thirteen ways.

1. At $10, the basic anthology includes some of fantasy and science fiction's biggest names: Kevin J. Anderson and Rebecca Moesta, Maggie Allen, Jack Dann, Ed Greenwood, Joe Haldeman, Nancy and Belle Holder, Tanya Huff, Gail Z. Martin, Danielle Ackley-McPhail, Jean Rabe, Mike Resnick, Hildy Silverman, Janine Spendlove, Michael A. Stackpole, Anton Strout, Kelly Swails, Robert E. Vardeman, Elizabeth A. Vaughan, Bryan Young, Jean Marie Ward (yeah, me--got a problem with that?), Gene Wolfe, Timothy Zahn, and of course, the man himself, CJ Henderson.

You do romance so you don't know who these people are?  No problem.  I got some video right here:

2. Joe Haldeman

3. Gail Z. Martin

I also got pixels on the page.

4. Kevin J. Anderson

5. Jack Dann

6. Tanya Huff

7. But that's just the start.  The more people fund, the more authors we add. People like Aaron Rosenberg, Alan M. Clark (who did our wonderful cover), Allan Gilbreath, Alma Alexander, Tera Fulbright, Cynthia Ward, Davey Beauchamp, Dylan Birtolo, James Chambers, Jeff Young, Jennifer Brozek, John Hartness, Maxwell Alexander Drake, John French, Jonathan Mayberry, Keith R.A. DeCandido, KT Pinto, Michael Ventrella, Misty Massey, Patrick Thomas, Pete Prellwitz, Sheryl Nantus (I did mention Sheryl, didn't I?), Stuart Jaffe, David B. Coe, Vicki Steger and Mike McPhail.

I've got some video of them, too:

8. David B. Coe (aka D.B. Jackson) 

9.  Keith R.A. DeCandido

10. Somebody who isn't in that list but who is most definitely in the table of contents (you heard it here first!): Jody Lynn Nye.  Yeah, I have video for her, too.

11. Videos of crazy people dancing like monkeys.

12. Stopping Danielle Ackley-McPhail from posting more creepy pictures of monkeys.  (They're worse than clowns...Well, maybe not today, but most of the time they're really, really creepy.)

13. The man himself, CJ Henderson.  They say a picture is worth a thousand words.  I'm hoping his video is worth more, for him and for all of us.

CJ Henderson

Please, fund.  The Indiegogo link is:

https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/monkeying-around-for-a-good-cause#home

Thank you.

Jean Marie Ward

Are you ready to go "In the Black"?

I'm pleased to announce that on May 12^th Carina Press will be releasing "In the Black", the first book in my new series, "Tales from the Edge". It's a rip-roaring adventure series with I like to explain as "Firefly" meets "Best Little Whorehouse"… but why not read an excerpt and you can judge for yourself?

***

This was the worst part of the job, the toughest thing for any captain who ran a Mercy Ship. When she’d taken over the Bonnie Belle six months ago, it’d seemed amusing— starting off the landfall with a bang, as it were. Then back to signing off on maintenance reports and reading mystery novels until the Belle was ready to head out for the next stop on their cycle.

Now this ceremony was like a hangnail catching on anything and everything without relief in sight.

Performed once a month.

For another four and a half years.

Samantha Keller stood in front of the double doors, waiting for her cue. A low beep in her ear from the transmitter signaled her to proceed. She pasted a huge smile on her face and pushed her way through the swinging double doors, making a note to swing her hips and slow the hell down.

She couldn’t run down the aisle, no matter how much she wanted to get this over with.

The black leather straps cut into the back of her heels as she strode down the center aisle. She made a mental note to toss the shoes into the garbage bin as soon as she got back to the Belle.

She’d have worn her old jump boots but Jenny insisted on her buying the stilettos on their first stop at Land’s End base, saying they matched the brand-new leather jumpsuit and that it’d be unseemly for her to make the announcements in “ragged, old, stinky” military boots.

Sam had lived and almost died in those boots and if they were good enough for that, they’d be good enough for this. The words had been on her tongue when she’d spotted the eagerness in the mechanic’s eyes.

In the end she’d bought the bloody shoes, the ones now gouging raw spots on her heels. Six months and they were nowhere near broken in.

Mind you, she only wore them for a few minutes once a month. Maybe she should have Jenny stomp around and soften them up.

The damned jumpsuit still rode up, tempting her to make some very unladylike gestures.

Sam missed her old soft, olive drab uniform.

Along with the weapons that went with it.

There was something about having a pistol at her side that made certain situations more bearable.

Like this one.

She spotted Huckness, the security chief, standing off to one side with two of his men, his attention not on her but on the two hundred miners spread out in front of them in the main meeting hall. He was looking for signs of trouble.

She was about to deliver it.

The second step was her undoing. Her damned shoe missed the metal strip, landing on bare wood. Her left ankle twisted outward, almost sending her crashing down the steps. Her right hand shot out and grabbed the podium’s faux wood edge.

As far as she was concerned this near-fall added one more point toward tossing the damned shoes into the incinerator as soon as she got off this stage.

A curse dangled on her lips before being pulled back and twisted into a grin, primarily because of the live mike only inches from her face.

With this crowd, it’d probably be considered foreplay.

Wolf whistles followed her every move. Two hundred hungry men waiting for her. Wanting her to deliver the goods they’d been promised.

Another dozen or so women were watching from an office somewhere. The women assigned to Branson Prime worked the administrative positions, keeping the ink flowing to keep the base alive. Only a smattering but they were potential customers and the Guild prepared for every eventuality.

They were already segregated from the men in the work areas and it continued for this presentation, allowing them to watch the show without commentary from the male staff. It wasn’t just out of politeness—it was good business. Let them see the wares without judging or being judged by their male associates.

Another day, another show.

Andrew Trainer, the foreman, stepped away from the podium. A minute later and he was in the front row of eager spectators, dressed in the same drab grey clothing as the rest of the miners. The only thing showing his rank was a black stripe on one sleeve. He wiped the sweat from his forehead on his sleeve even though the room was cool, the air-conditioning roaring over the crowd.

Sam gave him a wink, causing the dark-haired man to rock back and forth on the metal bench.

Inside she laughed. If she could get a rise out of the old guard with nothing more than a wink, she might have a damned riot on her hands by the end of the presentation.

Her lips twitched once, and then curved into a smile.

She’d enjoy a riot. It’d been a long time since she got in a good old-fashioned brawl, two landfalls ago when some idiot thought he’d jump the line when she was walking through the landing bay on the way to trade some books with the base library. If she hadn’t gotten to him first he might have not survived the rough justice being handed out by his fellow miners.

It’d been a pleasure to kick his ass. Almost as good as sex.

Speaking of—

“Hello, Branson Prime,” she purred into the microphone, grimacing as her vocal cords protested at going so low and slow. It was a necessary evil; her command voice wasn’t going to work here.

The resounding cheer was deafening. She withdrew a small data chip from her pocket and inserted it into the waiting slot on the console. The yelling subsided when she waved them down, but a low murmur continued to run through the crowd, a delicious anticipation of what was to come.

“I’m Sam Keller, Captain of the Bonnie Belle—that sweet little Mercy ship that docked with your fine manufacturing facility an hour ago. And I’m here to declare that we are—” she paused for three heartbeats, seeing the hungry eyes, “—open for business!”

The two hundred-plus miners jumped to their feet as one, stomping their booted feet in a deafening chorus. Given the sparse decorations they looked more like prisoners than potential customers. But they were buyers and she was here to sell a product.

She pointed at the large screens set around the mess hall as they flashed to life, the bright pictures drawing yells from the workers. Usually they displayed boring litanies of production quotas and the occasional sports competition piped in from the inner planets. Now they rotated through the images of the six courtesans, expertly posed and photographed to provide the most titillation for the money. No outright nudity, just a flash of skin here and a wink there. More than enough material to fuel a man’s or woman’s fantasies for those long, dark, lonely nights out here on the edge of colonized space.

“Two hundred credits an hour and you can do anything you want.” She leaned over the podium and pressed her lips to the microphone, letting the zipper on the jumpsuit “accidentally” slide down just enough to exaggerate her cleavage.

It’d taken Jenny a week of oil and sweat to loosen the zipper enough to get it to come down on cue. But it was well worth it, every time.

“Anything.” She exhaled over the black nub, drawing the word out as long as she could.

***

As you can guess the Bonnie Belle's stay doesn't go as planned… but why not plan a visit to the Belle for yourself? Make a date May 12^th to come on board and see what all the fuss is about!

When Sam Keller left the military, she ran to the far end of the galaxy. Now she captains the Bonnie Belle, a spaceship full of courtesans who bring a little pleasure to hard-up men on mining colonies. When one of her girls turns up dead, it’s  Sam’s job to find out who killed her, fast.

Marshal Daniel LeClair is as tough as steel and quick on the draw. But when his vacation gets replaced by an assignment to help find the killer, he can’t help angling for a little action with the saucy, hard-charging Sam. She’s  got brains, attitude and a body he wouldn’t  mind investigating.

Sam, six months lonely, might just indulge him. But the Guild that owns the Belle wants the case closed yesterday. With pressure coming from all quadrants, Sam and her marshal clash over false leads and who’s on top. But when the killer threatens the Belle again, romance will have to wait. It’s a captain’s job to save her crew, no matter the cost.

Pre-order "In the Black" NOW  at Amazon, B&N, iBooks and Google Play!

Monkeying Around in a Good Cause...with Benefits

See this monkey here?  (No, it’s not me. I didn't grow a beard overnight. Hush!) This monkey marks the start of a new Silence in the Library project: Monkeying Around fora Good Cause: The CJ Henderson Benefit Anthology.

If it were just an anthology, Dance Like A Monkey would be awesome.  The list of contributors at the basic funding level includes some of the biggest names in the industry: Kevin J. Anderson and Rebecca Moesta, Maggie Allen, Jack Dann, Ed Greenwood, Joe Haldeman, Nancy and Belle Holder, Tanya Huff (insert fan girl squee here—I’m in a book with Tanya Huff and Jack Dann!), Gail Z. Martin, Danielle Ackley-McPhail, Jean Rabe, Mike Resnik, Hildy Silverman, Janine Spendlove, Michael A. Stackpole, Anton Strout, Kelly Swails, Robert E. Vardeman, Elizabeth A. Vaughan, Bryan Young, Jean Marie Ward, Gene Wolfe, and Timothy Zahn. And, of course, CJ Henderson. 

The artists contributing to the project include Christina Yoder (who drew the wonderful dancing monkey topping this article), Alan M. Clark (who contributed the beautiful cover shown below), Mark Dos Santos, Ben Fogletto, Thomas Nackid and Matt Slay.

But wait!  Like the classic TV commercial says, there’s more!  Beyond the Veil’s own Sheryl Nantus is one of the stretch goal authors for the project. Yes! If you contribute now—and we make our stretch goals—you’ll receive another book’s worth of wonderful stories, including Sheryl’s!  And you know she writes wonderful short stories.  If you don’t believe me, check out the selection on her website.

The other stretch goal authors ain’t exactly shabby, either: Aaron Rosenberg, Alan M. Clark, Allan Gilbreath, Alma Alexander, Tera Fulbright, Cynthia Ward, Davey Beauchamp, Dylan Birtolo, James Chambers, Jeff Young, Jennifer Brozek, John Hartness, Maxwell Alexander Drake, John L. French, Jonathan Maberry, Keith R.A. DeCandido, KT Pinto, Michael Ventrella, Misty Massey, Patrick Thomas, Pete Prellwitz, Stuart Jaffe, David B. Coe (aka D.B. Jackson), Vicki Steger, and Mike McPhail. 

And every single story by every single author will feature a monkey.  Even I got in the act, as you can see from the excerpt of my story "Burning Down the House" here.

Why? One of CJ's favorite sayings is "I'll dance like a monkey for a nickel."

But why CJ? Why now? And what makes this project any different than any of the other crowdsourcing projects I've been involved with recently? I think Silence in the Library publisher Ron Garner said it best:

“The purpose of this anthology is to provide...support to author CJ Henderson. Let me start off though, by saying that this is not charity. We are not simply collecting money and handing it off to a needy individual to help pay medical expenses. No, what we are doing here is endowing a grant. A grant that will allow CJ to continue to produce the kinds of stories that CJ writes. Stories with the power to entertain and captivate us all. We are making an investment in CJ."

An investment with dividends for you.  Are you an aspiring writer, or do you know one?  Bestselling author Gail Z. Martin and writer/publisher Janine Spendlove are offering mentoring programs.  Both programs include an in-depth review of the first 200 pages of your novel-length manuscript.

Or how about a short cut to immortality?  You can be Tuckerized--have your name and characteristics assigned to a character in a published story.  Monkeying Around offers three Tuckerization options.  You can get written into anthology editor Jean Rabe's next novel, The Cauldron, or Danielle Ackley-McPhail's upcoming novel, Daire's Devils.

You want more?  How about a certain author and her equally demented spouse doing their best to live up to the anthology's title?


How about making them stop?  

I thought that would do the trick. J Just so you don’t have to scroll back, the URL is: http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/monkeying-around-for-a-good-cause .  

Click it.  Share it.  Help out.  I guarantee you won't be sorry.

Jean Marie Ward

Cover reveal!

I'm thrilled to present the cover art for the fourth book in my paranormal romance shifter series!

 

 

Book four of Blood of the Pride

P.I. Rebecca Desjardin is surprised when two seemingly unrelated missing-teen cases land in her lap on the same day. Her cat-shifter instincts tell her there's more to the story, and when she uncovers a bitter feud between the two families, she suspects Romeo and Juliet runaways. She turns to her lover, Brandon Hanover, a man who knows the underground better than most.

Brandon is determined to help the woman he loves outwit ruthless enforcers and bring two missing kids to safety, but when a woman from his past resurfaces he finds himself caught between two worlds once again.

As the claws come out and the war between the shifter families turns deadly, the two will have to stand together or fall separately—and even that might not be enough to save them.

Book 4 in the "Blood of the Pride" series comes out in October but here's an excerpt to let you know what you're in for with Brandon and Reb!

*****

I’d always thought I’d appreciate the sight of a near-naked man scampering around my house in a pair of boxer shorts.

Until now.

I cleared my throat as Jake Middleston glared at me, his back to the kitchen. He had about ten years on me, with skin that had been left out in the sun too long. The jean jacket he wore over a dingy gray T-shirt was ripped along the arms—honest injuries and not for fashion. His short-cropped black hair was turning gray in spots, scattered over the scalp.

His nostrils flared and he frowned.

He could smell Brandon Hanover, my lover and new roommate, as Bran snuck into the kitchen.

He let out something akin to a huff.

Jake was old-school Felis. Tolerated humans when necessary, and even then under duress. He and his kin believed in the doctrine of each to their own and being in the same house as a human was tough, much less knowing said human was mated to me, a fellow Felis. I could see the words on his lips itching to break out, a good old-fashioned racist rant at me for being so involved with human society that I’d consider one of them as my beloved.

I had a snappy retort ready to go, curses included. My home, my rules.

But he was also a client and I had to stay polite in the face of old-fashioned prejudice. I’d done it before for other clients, slimy adulterers who wanted an easy way out of their marriage and itchy-fingered businessmen looking for criminals in their midst who stole paperclips and pencils.

If you had asked me six months ago if I’d have my fellow cat shifters as clients I would have laughed in your face. Being outcast for two decades has that effect on me.

But recent events had brought me back into the family and scored me one hot human mate, so I was prepared to deal with family as possible clients. And keep my mouth shut.

Besides, I needed the cash.

“You said you needed my help,” I prompted, trying to draw his attention away from Bran. I couldn’t see him but I could smell him, fresh from our bed upstairs.

He hadn’t showered yet, making his natural male smell more intense, almost to the point of overpowering—let’s just say that we enjoy waking each other up multiple times before we actually get up. I’d managed to get into the shower before my arranged meeting with Middleston but he’d refused, showing his stubborn streak and annoyance at me having anything to do in the morning other than stay in bed.

Bran knew we Felis had an enhanced sense of smell. And he knew I knew my new client would have it, as well.

The older man rubbed the palms of his hands on his jeans, likely in an attempt to ignore the musky scent drifting across the room. “I have a daughter, Lisa. She’s almost eighteen and thinks she knows it all.” He gave me a knowing smile. “As you can guess we disagree on a few things.”

I nodded. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Bran tiptoeing toward the stairs cradling a huge bowl of tortilla chips and a bottle of salsa.

He knew I hated crumbs in bed.

He knew I couldn’t say anything without making a scene.



*****

You can pre-order "Battle Scars" now from Amazon and B&N! I hope you'll come along for this next installment of Brandon and Rebecca's strange and sometimes stressful relationship!

Freedom. For *all* of us to write what we want!

To finish off a long wonderful month of posts about freedom and independence I'd like to point out how darned LUCKY we are, many of us, to be born into a time and place where we can write almost anything and have it put out to the public.

It wasn't so long ago, and unfortunately is still true in some countries, that writing about same-sex relationships would get you a prison term if not worse. Writing about BDSM or unmarried people having a sexual relationship, people from different cultures or different levels of society wouldn't be tolerated and could destroy not only your career but also your personal life.

We are blessed to live in a time when a writer can, with or without a publisher, put out almost anything you want to write and make it accessible to the public. Whether they like it or not isn't part of the equation - you are able to put it out to them without fear of being lynched; of being dragged from your house and hung or having your family threatened and forced out of town.

But we can't forget that there are still writers out there being held in jail or under house arrest for expressing themselves, victims of a political or social system that won't let them write what's in their hearts and punish them for expressing themselves. There are still writers out there fighting for the freedom of free speech and we shouldn't forget them or forget how lucky we are to live in a time and place where we can not only write about almost anything we want but through the expansion of self-publishing get our dreams and thoughts out to the public.

So while we're finishing off a month of celebrating freedom let's spare a few thoughts for those who cannot say or write what they want - and hope that they'll be able to join us in the near future.

Fade to black...

I'm probably one of those odd folks who can't write a love scene for love or money but LOVES to read a good love scene. Put a Sara Brookes story in front of me and I'm diving in and not coming up for air until I get my fill of some sweet luvin'!

But as for my own works I've been sort of, well... fade to black. While I'll drag the lovers up to the edge I just can't push them over, preferring to leave the good details to the reader's imagination - because that's what I think works for my characters and the way I write.

Here's an example from the first book in the "Blood of the Pride" series.

***

I fumbled with his shirt, fingers numb with anticipation. “Maybe. Okay, yes.” I ran my hands over his chest, pleasantly surprised at the light fur covering his skin. “Maybe you’ve got a little Felis in you after all.”

“Maybe. Does that mean I get to be on top?” A tingle ran down my spine as he drew his fingers leisurely down my back, stroking the scarred skin before expertly snapping my bra open. “Or do I have to wrestle you for it?”

Maybe. Yes. I don’t know.” I let out a sigh, surrendering to the mixture of emotions, exhaustion and plain old lust drowning me. “Shut up and keep touching me.”

***

To me that's enough to give the reader - you can figure out what happens next, right?

But, as I said above, I'm no prude - give me a hot and heavy love scene and I haz great fun! It's only when the scene seems forced and suddenly I find my mind wandering as to trying to figure out how person A is still breathing and where person B's leg is and how the heck can anyone be that flexible and I'm bounced out of the story.

A good love scene can be graphic or may not be. But what it has to do is send the reader on an emotional ride that's got to pay off at the end with flushed cheeks and grabbing for the water bottle. Whether it's a "fade to black" or a hot steamy scene the writer's got to deliver those feelings or it just descends into an engineering test of who fits into whom.

As with all things - just my wandering thoughts! Feel free to agree or disagree below and if you have any refs to authors you want to recommend - jump on in!

Are you ready for some more shifter love???

One of the best things about writing a series is letting the characters grow and expand, show the reader more of what makes them tick. While the first book is usually all about the action the second and continuing stories allow the author to show more of what the characters are all about, what makes them either so lovable or loathsome.

In "Blood of the Pride" I introduced you to Rebecca Desjardin, a cat shifter who can't shift—outcast and shunned by her family until they need her help. With a foot in both the Felis and human worlds she helped find a rogue male and at the same time found love in a curious journalist named Brandon Hanover who not only figures out what she is but loves her for it.

"Claws Bared", book two, was released this past January and sent Reb down to a small town in Pennsylvania to help figure out who killed a popular male stripper. During that adventure she and Brandon figured out where they were going with their relationship and moved to the next level.

Now with "Family Pride", releasing June 3^rd from Carina Press, the intrepid cat shifter finds herself in dangerous new territory—dealing with Brandon's family. It's one thing to meet the parents and find them wanting someone better for their son, another to be forced into working for them in order to save your own.

Here's a short excerpt from "Family Pride"!

***

"My parents want to meet you."

I dropped the thick ceramic mug in the sink. It bounced once before landing in the inch-deep soapy water. The clanging sound bounced around my skull, settling behind my left eye and throbbing.

"Your parents are dead." I turned and leaned against the counter. "Are we attending a séance?"

Bran bit his lower lip. He hadn't bothered to put a shirt on, choosing to pad around my house barefoot in a pair of jeans that fit perfectly in all the right places. We'd finally dragged ourselves out of bed for lunch, ordering in pizza because we had run out of groceries.

His dark eyes met mine, apologetic and pleading.

"They're not, ah, dead. They're sort of alive."

I picked up the mug and contemplated how much strength it would take to smash it. "Your parents are zombies?"

"My parents are alive and well and very much human."

I weighed the mug in my palm, letting him watch my fingers curl around the cool clay. "You lied to me. Four months ago you lied to my face."

"Maybe." Bran put out his hand, pointing at the mug. "Please put that down."

I glared at him.

"Okay, I lied. A bit." His hand didn't move, still outstretched toward the mug. "I told you my parents were dead but that was right after we'd met and we were on opposite sides of the case." Bran smiled. "And I didn't know how good we could be together."

I didn't blink.

"Cut me a break, Reb. You've got your own family secrets." He shifted to one side with a grin, showing off his newest scratches on one shoulder. "And I can make you purr."

Damned redhead had a point. We'd both kept things from each other back then. I hadn't exactly been forthcoming about the fact that I wasn't human, but when Bran had come face-to-face with my Felis heritage I hadn't lied and denied.

I still didn't have to like it. "Who are they and why did you lie?"

He didn't move. My gaze traveled over his bare chest, resting on the fresh scars across his midsection courtesy of our latest work trip to Penscotta, Pennsylvania. He'd fought another Felis for his life and, in his own way, for me.

The least I could do was hear him out before throwing the mother of all temper tantrums.

"My father is Michael Hanover." Bran paused. "Of Hanover Investments."

I nearly dropped the mug.

"Hanover Investments. As in, they make more money in ten minutes than I'll ever see in my lifetime?" I croaked. I'd flipped through a few business articles over the past few years when I was supposed to be reading a paper and instead using it for surveillance. The business section guarantees you won't be distracted by the articles.

"Yeah. Them." He sounded almost apologetic. "It's a family business. Three generations."

"You're related to those Hanovers?"

"Michael and Bernadette Hanover are my parents." He reached out and took the mug from my numb fingers. "The reason I lied was because it'd become an instinctive reaction to explain away my wealth. Easier to say trust fund than explain my dysfunctional relationship with my parents." He shook his head, a sad smile on his lips. "You'd be surprised how many gold diggers are out there looking to snag a rich man. Or his son."

I tried to get my breathing under control. "Those Hanovers."

"We'd just met," Bran repeated. He placed the mug out of my reach and returned to stand in front of me, both hands up. "And I used the same line I use with everyone to explain my wealth. It was automatic."

***

While I don't think many of us lied to our prospective mates about our family being dead, I think we can all relate to Reb's shell shock at finding out who the Hanovers are—and when she finds out how dangerous they are it'll force her to make decisions that will change her life and her relationship with both families and Brandon forever.

I hope you'll come along for the latest book in the series and get to know Brandon and Rebecca better—after all, there's still plenty of mysteries for them to find and solve!

On another note I'll be appearing from June 12^th to the 16^th at the Origins Game Fair as part of the Library track – if you're in the Columbus, Ohio area and looking for a great way to spend a day or five, please check out the schedule! I'll be there discussing superheroes and romance writing along with many great authors such as Timothy Zahn and Michael Stackpole and there'll be plenty of great books for sale along with some faboo gaming opportunities.

If you're in the area it'd be great to see you!

Gaming and writing - what fun!

Gaming!

Recently the hubby and I went to a local gaming store for International Tabletop Day, a day devoted to tabletop games and all the fun that goes along with it. The idea is to try out and discover new games that you usually wouldn't try on your own and without buying them, of course. It's a great way to find something new to add to your huge game collection. (okay, OUR huge game collection...)

The idea of International Tabletop Day came from Felicia Day and was/is supported by Wil Wheaton. (yes, *those* two) The two of them, proud geeks, often review tabletop games and post reviews on Day's page, Geek and Sundry.

So we discovered Smallworld.  Discovered, played and purchased on the same day. Same with another board game.

Smallworld is a fantasy type of Risk – you take over territories with your fantasy characters such as Orcs and Giants. It's a great game and I recommend it if you like that sort of conquering the board fun.

Now I know what you're thinking – what the heck does this have to do with writing? Or reading? Or anything other than geeks, not that there's anything wrong with that…

I find gaming to be a wonderful way to kick back and generate new stories without really having to work at it – the games we play tend to create their own reality and it's fun to work and play in someone else's world for a bit.

When I return to the computer after a good gaming session I'm usually reinvigorated. Not because I've found a story to write necessarily (and any gamer can tell you that often the story is so *not* what counts in a good session) but the ability to step into another character's shoes (or armor) allows me not to only stretch my creative muscles but also to watch and study others as they work their way through situations.

It doesn't have to be a role playing game as well – we picked up the X-Wing miniatures game based on some good tutorials and jumped on that this past Tuesday for our weekly gaming night. It was great to play a rookie pilot running into two other rookie pilots on the other side and the resulting dogfighting.

So if you're stuck for an idea and want to boost your creativity, why not check out some great board games for inspiration? Grab a copy of Smallworld or kick back with a game of old-school chess or even Monopoly (if you want a family fight but that's another column!).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Shifting Goes Bad...

 

Shapeshifters have become pretty popular among authors and readers, from dragon shifters to dolphin shifters to bull shifters. (Really. I kid you not.) When I was growing up I never thought much about the perils and pleasures of having the ability to shape-shift.

But now that I'm working on a series with cat shifters I'm paying more attention to the little things, the details that bring a character to life. And the problems that being a cat shifter would have.

For example, Rebecca, my cat shifter, has exquisite hearing—to the point of pain. Imagine if you could hear so well that you could eavesdrop on conversations in another room. It sounds like fun, right? Until you expand that to walking down a busy city street and the noise, the noise, the NOISE around you like a huge wave of sound slapping you with every step. Just imagine the sounds battering your senses and the effort it'd take to lock yourself down and control the constant input.

The same with the sense of smell. I've smelt some pretty disgusting things in my life but I can't imagine how it would be to have that amplified. I've walked through some pretty ugly alleyways in Toronto where every puddle was a toxic dump and the dumpsters were overflowing with rotten food. Sure it'd be great to pick people out by their scent or smell their fear through bitter sweat but add in rotten Chinese food and a dash of vomit and suddenly it's not such a great thing.

But it's not just cat shifters who'd have to deal with problems. Werewolves, or wolf shifters, would have their own twist on these problems. And I love seeing writers deal with the reality (for lack of another word) of the negative side of shifting. It's easy to write and relate to the positive aspects of being a shifter—not so much when there are ongoing issues from living in two worlds.

We all point at the werewolf loving his rare steak between full moons or sniffing out his mate in a crowded room, sensing their connection in a raw, animalistic form. But there's a lot of downsides and I enjoy reading about how the grass may not always be greener on the other side when you're more than just human.

So let me toss the question out—what do you think would be the biggest downside of being a (blank) shifter? Dragon shifter always setting fire to the curtains? Cat shifter clawing up the furniture? Selkie leaving wet towels on the bathroom floor?

 

 

When is a series not a series?

Two of my most successful books started off as NaNoWriMo project - the goal being to write 50,000 words in 30 days. Whether you choose to push the book towards publication or not is your choice; the "win" is getting those 50K words down in a single month.

I never intended either "Blaze of Glory" or "Blood of the Pride" to be a series.

This, as you can guess, had a major effect on how I wrote the books originally. In the case of "Blaze" I set out to tell the story of a young woman forced into playing a superhero and then having to actually *be* a superhero with the entire storyline wrapped up at the end of the first book. When I was lucky enough to be picked up by Samhain Publishing and the most excellent editor Sasha Knight I didn't have any plans for a sequel.

But not long after the first book was released Sasha came back to me and asked if I'd considered continuing the story of Jo Tanis and her brave new world.

I couldn't say no.

It didn't take long for me to draft up an outline for the next two books in the series, "Heroes Without, Monsters Within" and "Heroes Lost and Found", building on the world I'd created in the first book and delving deeper into the politics and mechanics necessary to make the first book work. By the time the trilogy finished I felt I'd explained so much more about the worries and fears on both sides of the fence, both supers and of the people monitoring them. I'd never have gotten that chance if I'd stopped with the single book - but I'm still thrilled that you can read "Blaze of Glory" without feeling forced to purchase the next two in the series.

"Blood of the Pride" followed a different track.

It was originally published by a small press under a different title and when they decided to drop paranormal stories from their site I received the rights back and, after another stiff round of editing, submitted it to Carina Press. You can imagine my thrill at getting a phone call from Angela James, offering me a contract.

It wasn't long after that I began working on a sequel, feeling that the story of Rebecca, a cat shifter who couldn't shift, and her new love Brandon had more to be told. When I approached my Carina editor, Alissa Davis, with the sequel she asked if I intended more stories.

I told her yes - and we negotiated a three-book contract with Carina Press. The sequel, "Claws Bared", comes out January 21st and the third book, "Family Pride" is scheduled for June 6 with the next book tentatively set for an October release.

In both cases I never set out to create a world that demanded a series for the reader to enjoy them. But the opportunity to write more books in those worlds have given me the chance to explore them in more depth, to share much more with the reader than I could ever stuff into a single book.

I'm proud of the fact that both series have stand-alone stories to start with - if you never go past the first book you'll still have an enjoyable read and won't feel obligated or forced to buy the next to figure out what's going on or find that resolution left out at the end.

That's the way I created two successful series. Both of which I hope to keep going in one way or another - I've written a short story set in the "Blaze" world for the 2013 Origins Game Fair Anthology, a limited-edition book being published this year for the convention theme of "superheroes". "The Seat of Your Pants" is a short set before the events of "Blaze" and details one not-so-regular battle for Jo Tanis and her sidekick/Guardian, Metal Mike.

"Blood of the Pride" has four books currently set in Reb's world where Felis and humans mingle freely and her job as a private investigator places her in a position to help both societies. I don't see an end at present and hope to continue writing her story for a good long time.

Not too bad considering I never set out to create either series. They both came out of a single idea for a 50K marathon writing session.

I think they're stronger books because I didn't plan out sequel after sequel, making each book dependant on the previous one. I've seen series that do this and don't like it - so I wouldn't put it in mine. Some authors make it work and more power to them... but it's not for me.

So that's how my series started off not being a series.

Thanks for reading!

A #NaNoWriMo Success Story!

It's a good time, I think, with November drawing to a close and thousands of NaNoWriMo authors gasping over their keyboards to give them a bit of inspiration. I've written on my blog other thoughts on the month-long exercise in insanity and how to get the most you can out of it with or without finishing the 50K run.

Here's another one.

"Blood of the Pride" started off as a NaNo project a few years ago, a second try at winning the contest after doing so the previous year with "Blaze of Glory". That book was still in edits and I wanted to do something different, something away from the superhero romance. The first sentence came to me...

"I smelled the blood before I had a chance to look for it, the tangy, dense scent landing on the back of my tongue."

Right then I knew this was going to be a detective novel of a different sort, of a cat shifter who couldn't shift and was outcast from her people. Rebecca Desjardin talked her way through the book and I pulled it off, finishing the first draft before the end of the month.

And, as you can see... it sold.

In fact, it sold so well to Carina Press that not only is there an audiobook out for "Blood of the Pride" but it's also been included in the Direct-To-Consumer for Harlequin's February 2013 paranormal shipment to their subscribers. So it's going to print.

And then there's this:

Yep. A sequel.

The second in four books under contract with Carina Press. "Claws Bared" comes out in January 2013 in ebook and in audiobook format. The third and fourth books are due in June and September. I'm hoping for them to also go to print.

This was a NaNoWriMo project. This is a project I worked on long after the month was over and edited to death before submitting it.

This is a NaNo success story as far as I'm concerned.

And if it could happen to me it could happen to you.

You may feel overwhelmed with the words on the page. You might feel like you're floundering and just can't get up; wallowing in the speed writing.

It's okay. It's okay NOT to finish by the end of the month. But you have to finish.

And then, if you want, edit edit edit to death.

Because you CAN sell a NaNo novel.

I did.

And you can too.

Now get back to that keyboard!