Category Archives: Writing

What’s Up Wednesday

Yesterday I posted Episode 11 of my fantasy adventure, The Soul Cycle: Para. I also submitted chapter one to JukePop Serials for a broader fan-base. If not for going to, I would never have found out about JukePop, but they happen to be a NaNo sponsor, which is always a good thing.

image by Katharine Jay |

Now, because I can upload images and videos to the serial on JukePop, I need to decide what I’m going to DO for videos. Should I do static images with music accompaniment? Or should I have active video and soft music playing while a narrator reads a portion of the book? Or should I only use a book trailer, of sorts, which is acted out with real people?

Since this is my first one, I will probably do just a simple video of a narrator with either a slideshow or simple active video/music playing. We’ll see.

JukePop Serial:
The Soul Cycle: Para, Episode 11:
The Soul Cycle: Para, Episode 01:

Episode 11, preview:

Para stuck her tongue out at the girl in the reflection. The girl haughtily returned the favor. “I hate dresses,” she grumbled. This dress of white with a rose ribbon around the waist didn’t score very high on her list of favorite things, either.

Dresses hampered movement, and when one had a friend like Phillip who forever put your life in jeopardy, that was the last thing you wanted to happen. Well, he didn’t necessarily put her in danger all the time, but dangerous activities. Climbing trees and mountainsides, going into underground caves and chasing foxes or the like through the grass fields and groves. Yes, it was an active lifestyle that didn’t allow for frills and fancies like this.

But she didn’t mind her hair smelling like her mother’s, or the perfect braids on each side of her face, tied off at the ends with a matching rose ribbon. Even her freckles seemed less mocking than usual, probably due to the lotion the maid Mary smeared on her before giving her a douse with white powder.

The sneezing fit from that still threatened her nose with the occasional tickle.

Now, her mother’s warning to be on her best behavior ringing in her ears, Para followed the maid from the room and down the corridor to the private dining room and Lord Henry. She still didn’t know how she was going to ask if he could spare a few coins, and maybe a pony, so that Phillip and she could look for her brother. Phillip was so much better at knowing what he could get from people. Of course, sometimes what he got was a swift kick or the switch, but that was not going to help either of them at the moment.


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Greener Grass

I was invited to enter the Indie Book of the Day Flash Fiction contest which ends tomorrow. Winners will be announced June 29th. The category I entered is ‘Romance’, with a prompt word of ‘Deception’ required. The word limit for the entry, including title, is 69 words. Boy! I definitely had to refine and edit that entry before submitting.

Wish me luck.


Greener Grass

After such lush years of laughter and passion I believed I would be enough. I didn’t care about his wife, or the kids. I had his heart, or so he said. His deception cut us both in the end, his blood staining the memory of our past … together. Now I have the thrill as the knife bit into his heart, his eyes wide open.


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Shamus O’Neill | #TeaserTuesday

This month my romances Searching for Sara and My Fair Princess are on sale for 99 cents on Kindle, Nook, and all formats at If you follow the link on the book image below, it will send you to the Book Page and all the eBook purchase links.

‘My Fair Princess’, fantasy romance.

my fair princess“Shamus?”

He glanced up at her. “Hm?”

“Why did you want to be mayor of O’Neill?” Shamus swiped up another blade of grass. As Nia noticed before, he didn’t look the least bit comfortable talking about himself. “I truly want to know. It is an amazing responsibility, and you have done such wonderful things.”

He cleared his throat again, ears reddening so completely she considered dousing him with water. Nia couldn’t understand why he exhibited such an apparent reluctance to speak of this accomplishment.

“I, erm. . . .” Shamus tossed away the grass, though he immediately plucked another. “These are good people,” he said, so quiet that Nia strained to hear him. “I wanted them to have a better life than what they’d had.”

“At the age of twenty? Weren’t you still learning from your father?”

“The O’Neill’s put us on our own early,” he confessed with a quick glance her direction. “I’d basically been responsible for father’s ranch since I was twelve.”

“Heavens! At so young an age?”

Shamus’s shoulders lifted. “It taught me a lot of things.”

“But did you have the chance to be a child?”

“Sure. After chores and before bed.” He peeked at her. “I didn’t mind all that much.”

“With such responsibilities, how did you remain so . . . so . . . kindhearted?”

He laughed. “Responsibilities don’t make a person mean. That’s a choice.”

“Yes, I suppose you are right.” She held his gaze until his retreated. “So, you wanted to be completely independent then? Was that why you became mayor? To prove something to your family even?”

Shamus blinked at her. “Prove something?”

“I believe you wanted to prove O’Neill could be successful without using fear.”

He held her gaze for such a long moment she felt certain he wanted to speak . . . and then his gaze dropped to the grass teased by her single finger.

Nia smiled. “I am proud of you, Shamus O’Neill.” She clasped his hand, stroking it with her thumb. “It takes courage to stand up to a tradition, and not many people want to be bothered with such. Good for you.”

“I would’ve done it sooner if I knew I’d have got you for a wife.”

“Shamus O’Neill,” she laughed, “you speak such sweet talk.”

He continued to smile at her, and a flow of warmth advanced to her cheeks with a touch of surprise. She liked his attention. In fact, his eagerness to bestow it made her feel . . . relief. Foolish, really, as she should not have doubted a growing friendship. From the moment she met him there had been a connection. Much as she and Dray when they first met—

Shamus lowered his focus to their clasped hands, his features somewhat taut. She gave his hand a squeeze. “Why, Shay, what is wrong?”

“Nothing. I just . . .” He cleared away the roughness in his voice. “Can I kiss your hand?”

Nia’s mouth gaped. Men generally helped themselves, much as any person voluntarily pet a dog or cat. She intercepted his hesitant glance. “Yes, Shay. Yes, you can.”

The kiss was feather-light, the caress of lips upon hand causing a tingle from toe to wingtip. Nia smiled at him, enjoying the soft stroke of his thumb. Yes. She liked Shamus O’Neill very much. It would be easy to care deeply for him when he treated her with such deference.

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