NaNoWriMo

I did it!
50232, and verified!

Surprisingly, although I've been doing this for 11 years, this is only my 5th win.

Most of it was on a serial we're submitting to Storm Moon soon.


For your entertainment, have a brief scene:

“Engel, your lawyer is here.”

Jason looked up from where he sat on the bunk of the cell. He'd been expecting the public defender for a while now. He couldn't afford a real lawyer of his own.

The guard shackled Jason and ushered him into the privacy room. He sat down at the table and waited some more. His life had been nothing but waiting for the past few weeks.

The door opened again and two women came in. The lawyer was a freaking amazon, well over six feet tall, and the heels made her even taller. All of that blue-black hair piled in a bun on top of her head looked like it was scraping the door frame. The severe brown suit she wore made her look stern, and the emerald green blouse matched her earrings and shoes. She set her briefcase on the table and glared at him with dark brown eyes with just a hint of almond shape

The woman in her wake was not quite as imposing, coming only to the amazon's shoulder, with her red hair caught into a braid. Her black slacks and sapphire blouse didn't intimidate like the suit, nor did the heels on her ankle boots give her any advantage of height. She settled in a chair right beside the lawyer, her cute little pixie face scrunched in concentration as she opened her briefcase.

Just his luck. He was being sent away to the all-boys camp forever, and the last thing he'd see were these two hot cock-teases. He squelched that thought real fast. Say shit like that and the high and mighty corpora-bitch would make sure he went away forever.

The redhead cocked an eyebrow at him like she could hear what he was thinking. Remembering specials and movies about mind-reading aliens, he started humming a stupid song in his head. She hid a chuckle in her paperwork.

The lawyer cleared her throat. “Jason Manfred Engel.”

He winced at his full name and silently cursed his family for having such an obnoxious legacy of a middle name. Why couldn't it have been something like John or Dennis?

She didn't seem to notice and went on. “You seem to be in a bit of a bind, young man. Why don't you give me your side of things? Right now, there seems to be a bit of a mob ready to hang you in the town square and four friends I would not spit on if they were afire.”

“We were hanging out one night, you know how it is. Nothing to do, nobody's gotta work the next day. I'd just got my baby up and running sweet, so I asked if anyone wanted to go on a beer run. We were getting low. Everybody came along, and I ran us down to the local quick-stop. My girl was making a rattle I didn't like so I stayed in the car to listen and figure it out while they went in for beer and cigs.” He took a breath. Here was where it all went straight to hell. “Next thing I know, there's gun shots and my friends are tearing across the lot like their heads're on fire and their asses are catching. They're yelling for me to drive. I don't know what the hell is going on, but they have the beer and they pile in so we peel out.” He covered his face. The next part was awful. “I never even saw her step off the curb. I felt us hit something and I felt it under the tires, but I thought it was just a dog or something. Everyone was shouting and pounding me and there were sirens and I just kept driving, foot to the floor.”

He took a drink of the water on the table. “The cops stopped us about ten miles out. I blew a point-one. And I haven't been outside of this cell since. I'm going to prison forever, ain't I?” He asked it matter-of-factly, hoping for an equally matter-of-fact answer.

“You fail to grasp the gravity of your situation, Mr. Engel. Your so-called friends are claiming you orchestrated the entire robbery, including giving orders to kill the Pakistani store owner and his family as part of a hate crime, and any customers to cover your tracks. That it was the owner's mother you ran over does not help the case! The fine state of Alabama has decided they will not be paying your room and board for the next sixty years. Not when an IV and a shot are so much cheaper and more effective.” She steepled her fingers and leaned on the table. “Unless, of course, you choose to ride the lightening.”

Jason slumped in the chair, feeling as if granddaddy's prize bull had just stepped on his chest. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. The situation was just too much. The needle. He was going to get killed over a damned beer run.

She went on, inexorably. He'd heard the word, but never really knew what it meant. It felt like some giant boulder rolling after him, inevitable, intense and inescapable. She was rolling all over him with her words, leaving him too flat to speak.

“Have you ever seen someone electrocuted, Mr. Engel? No, of course you haven't. It starts hard and fast and they arch, wetting themselves. The smell of cooking pork hangs in the air where their wrists, ankles and scalp fry. The heart muscles spasm and you die from lack of blood to the brain. This can take several minutes for complete death to set in.”

Jason stared, his mouth hanging open. He finally got the air to gasp out, “I just drove a beer run. I don't wanna die.”

The redhead laid a hand on her boss' arm. “Maria, I think he grasps. And I am losing my grasp on my lunch.” She turned to Jason. Her voice was soft and sweet, after the hard words of her superior. She reached over and took his hand. “There is an alternative to all of this, Mr. Engel. Jason, may I call you Jason?”

He nodded. She could call him anything she wanted if she would just make sure he didn't die over two lousy cases of beer and a carton of cigarettes.

“We've been over your school records, and you employment history, and your trade school application. We find your abilities to be most remarkable.” She smiled. “And I've seen the car. She's a beauty. It's a shame she's going to be sold on auction or crushed to a cube. We'd like to put your skills to a more noble and far-reaching cause than you can possibly imagine. In return, there is a handsome paycheck, and we can make all of this go away...like the bad dream you so desperately hope it is.” Her smile widened. “We should even be able to get your car back.”

“I don't know anything about noble causes. I just don't want to die. Money and my car are just gravy.”

“Mr. Engel, we all die. It's simply a matter of when and how. And for what.” She let go of his hand and took papers out of her briefcase. He took them as she slid them across the table to him.

Near as he could read it, the contract said he was in the employ of Blackhall Security Consulting Corporation, answerable to Kathleen Gallagher and Edward Corelli. The contract could be extended past the year by mutual agreement. After the year, the contract would be considered fulfilled, and he would be relocated to any city of his choosing, with a new identity and any schooling or employment he wished.

He looked up from the dream deal in his hands and asked, “So, what's the catch?”

“You can never return home. You will never again have any contact with friends or loved ones. You can never tell your new friends what has happened. This is a new start in every sense of the word.”

“My folks are dead and I'm an only child. And every friend I thought I had just made me out to be the Grand Dragon to save his own hide.” Jason picked up the pen. “I'm in.” He scrawled a semi-legible signature at the bottom of the contract.

Maria stood up. “Very good. I'll arrange your release at once.”

“Thanks. I'd see you to the door, but...” He rattled the shackles that held him to the chair.

The smile that crossed the amazon's face made something deep inside Jason squeak in fear. He hoped the meep didn't come out of his mouth. The redhead's smile told him it might have, always assuming she didn't read minds like every other redhead he'd known. Every damn one of them was a witch.

She stuck her hand across the table. “By the way, we weren't properly introduced. I'm Kathleen Gallagher, your new boss.” She pulled herself across the table to whisper in his ear, “And it's only cock-teasing if there is no delivery.”

Jason stared as she bundled the papers into her briefcase and marched out the door behind her boss.

The Winterfaire is open!

http://valarltd.livejournal.com/1683347.html
Where you can comment with the good stuff you make or are looking to buy.

Sorry, this isn't a crosspost, but keeping up with one is plenty.

Sales sales sales

Pink Petal Books has a discount:
Customers can use code "smallbizthanks" to get 10% off their order,
including already discounted releases. The coupon is good through the end of
the month.
http://pinkpetalbooks.com/

I have Sky-Rat, Showdown at Yellowstone River, and Shell-Shocked

Literary Underworld Through 11:59 PM central time Mon Nov 26
Free shipping on orders over $25!
Free Music download with every purchase!
Free ebooks!
Discounted titles from many authors and small presses!
(all my titles are 15% off!)
http://literaryunderworld.com/
(lots of my books here!)

Friday Only:
Storm Moon Press novellas, novels, and anthologies are all 15% off over at All Romance Ebooks! ONE DAY ONLY! Enjoy Black Friday with this great sale! :)

SALE! - Storm Moon Press is having a sale now through Cyber Monday! Head to our official website: http://www.stormmoonpress.com/ for 25% off all novellas, novels, and anthologies + double reader reward points on all e-books! Help us welcome the holiday season!
You can get my Power in the Blood, or Songs for Guitar and French Harp, or Carved in Flesh or Like it or Not Or Wild Passions

At the Den of Debauchery's Gift Shoppe, you can use the code Holiday2012 to get 15% off your order.
http://www.etsy.com/shop/valarltd

Now's the time to do your Holiday shopping.

And it's not on sale, but my Mudd has a coffee mug available:
http://www.cafepress.com/mudd0359
For telling veryone how you feel in the morning.

Elisa's having a treasure hunt

Originally posted by at My blog's 6th anniversary and Rainbow Awards pre-party 

So another year is gone, and my Journal is now 6 years old :-) Since end of November is also really near the time when the Rainbow Awards will wrap up nicely (on December 8th) this year I want to have a joint party! So I asked to many of the authors in this year contest to be generous and donate a book or two... and the answer was overwhelming: 243 among print and ebooks!

But this time you have to "earn" your prize and so there is a "little" treasure hunt: nothing complicated but you need to complete a chain made of Title-Word-Definition-Cover-Number. How? I will try to explain LOL

We have 243 book titles, you can find them here: The Books: http://elisa-rolle.livejournal.com/1805679.html (mirrored here if you don't have a LJ account to comment and you are not friend on LJ: http://reviews-and-ramblings.dreamwidth.org/3359348.html) from each title I extracted a word, but be careful, same word can match more titles, BUT there is an unique matching (example, if I have two titles, Love Story and Story of Me, "story" match both titles, but probably, from the first title I took "Love" and from the second I took "Story". Your job to discover the right matching ;-)).

You can find the words here: The Words: http://elisa-rolle.livejournal.com/1805826.html (mirrored here if you don't have a LJ account to comment and you are not friend on LJ: http://reviews-and-ramblings.dreamwidth.org/3359509.html) to each word corresponds a definition.

The definition refers to single word (even if the word is plural) or not conjugated verb (even if the word is a conjugated verb). You can find the definitions here: The Definitions: http://elisa-rolle.livejournal.com/1806109.html (mirrored here if you don't have a LJ account to comment and you are not friend on LJ: http://reviews-and-ramblings.dreamwidth.org/3359969.html)

Once you have the matching Book-Word-Definition, you need to go and search for the Cover here: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.446587205375367.103212.100000722741394&type=1&l=1a717d4880 (if you don't have a Facebook account, you can try and find the Cover browsing this tag: http://elisa-rolle.livejournal.com/tag/rainbow%20awards%202012 but you have to scroll down a lot of entries ;-)) view the right cover, on the comment section there is a comment by me (Elisa Reviews) with a link to a post on LJ (Rainbow Awards: Current Submissions). Open the link and see what number was assigned to that book in that post.

Comment on THIS post (not on THAT post with the Current Submissions), sending me: Book Title-Word-Definition-Number. You can pick one book per day, if tomorrow there will be still available book, I will assign them. So you can send me more matching but first in-first out, you will win the first right matching still available book. http://elisa-rolle.livejournal.com/1806591.html

Exception, for the Book marked as New () there is no Cover/Number, so once you have the matching Book Title-Word-Definition, you can leave the comment. And now, lets the party start! Enjoy and good luck with your hunt!

The Livejournal is friends only. This entry was originally posted at http://reviews-and-ramblings.dreamwidth.org/3360138.html. If you are not friends on the live-journal, Please comment there using OpenID.

Being Thankful

I am thankful for many things today

For a house.
For food, and plenty of it, enough that I need to clean out the freezer and see what's there.
For wheels. Even if one set is in the shop 250 miles away, we still have a second vehicle.
For my husband, who always loves me, even if he never says it. He shows it in a million ways.
For my kids, who are proud of their mom, and love her and aren't ashamed to snuggle, even in their teens.
For my oldest, who is willing to be on the cover of a book from Inkstained Succubus Productions (we're doing the shoot tomorrow)
For my parents, who love and believe in me.
For my sisters, especially the one whose been my biggest fan since I was 15.
For you, my net friends, some of whom are friends in the real, whether we've met or not.
For you, my readers. without whom...

For 2192 words written on serial, 267 on Cliff, giving me 31944 for the month.
For edits on 2 novels of mine and 2 of others that need doing. I have never been so pleased to be staring into Editing Hell.

For another year above ground and functioning. The deer accident rattled me badly.

Holiday shopping

So, Black Friday. The media driven consumerist-orgy that tips stores into the black for the year.

I've been out there and fought the crowds. I've stayed home and watched movies.
But my favorite is to do some online shopping, from people I know, and have the gifts delivered to the recipients (usually 500 miles away)

Unique gifts say to the recipient, "I thought enough of you to go looking, and not just get you another turnip twaddler."

To help your shopping:
Books
Pink Petal Books has a discount:
Customers can use code "smallbizthanks" to get 10% off their order,
including already discounted releases. The coupon is good through the end of
the month.
(I have several books out with them, same-sex, opposite sex and my children's religious books)
http://pinkpetalbooks.com/

The Literary Underworld will be running sales and give aways.
And if you sign up for our (very low traffic) newsletter, you get a coupon code!
http://literaryunderworld.com/aboutus.sc

All Romance E-books will be having sales. It's never as good to buy from a distributor as it is direct from the publisher or author. But the Inkstained Succubus books will be 15% off.
http://www.allromanceebooks.com/storeSearch.html

Support Independent Music!
Tom Smith, The World's Fastest Filker, has inspired more than one of my stories with his songs: http://www.tomsmithonline.com/

S.J. Tucker, the Skinny White Chick, has been growing and developing as an artist for the last 7 years. Her new stuff is just amazing. http://skinnywhitechick.com/

Alec Adams, Heir to Heather Alexanbder's music, is found here: http://www.faerietaleminstrel.com/inside/

If you like more of a rap edge, and less folk, The Great Luke Ski might be your taste: http://www.thegreatlukeski.com/

And of course, the grandmother of us all, Leslie Fish. http://lesliefish.com/

And then there's Etsy

At the Den of Debauchery's Gift Shoppe, you can use the code Holiday2012 to get 15% off your order.
http://www.etsy.com/shop/valarltd

Other Etsy shops I like:
For bath goods and art, it's Wizard at Work: http://www.etsy.com/shop/WizardAtWork
Phoenix Fire does lovely Jewelry: http://www.etsy.com/shop/PhoenixFireDesigns
BeautyWatcher has awesome ornaments: http://www.etsy.com/shop/beautywatcher
For your Steampunker, Rosewood Stitches: http://www.etsy.com/shop/RosewoodStitches


Shop small!


Watch This Space for more news
If you are an author, a musician or an artisan, let me know, and I'll include you in the next post!

Halloween Photo Dump

My oldest son, headed out to the pub for a pint with the droogs

 

 

And have a favorite Halloween Story:

http://www.strangehorizons.com/2004/20041025/pumpkin-f.shtml

The Great Old Pumpkin
By John Aegard
25 October 2004

You must know, Doctor, that I did not choose to seek psychiatric help. I have no faith that I shall exit this room a healed man; I know now that I have been destined for the asylum since childhood. No mere conversation with you can steer me clear of that fate. That said, let us proceed with this court-compelled farce before my mad prattle provokes your crabbiness further.

As you are no doubt aware, I am the issue of solid Dutch stock—the prosperous Van Pelt family of St. Paul. Mine was a comfortable and happy childhood, and I spent much of it in the devoted service of the Great Old Pumpkin. For him, I cultivated an annual pumpkin patch—mostly Autumn Gold and Big Max, as I thought he would find the Atlantic Giants tacky. I also evangelized him in the community, relating the tale of how, every year on Hallowmas Eve, the day when the spiritual most strongly encroaches on the substantial, this mightiest of gourds would rise to revel across the world with the most sincere of his adorers. My neighbors were understandably skeptical; after all, not once had this superbeing ever chosen to grace my pumpkin patch or any other place in our town. I vowed that I would coax him into my backyard, and I set out in the manner of a learned man to discover how I might do this.

(go read the rest! Peanuts and Cthulhu!)

 

 

Halloween Eve

From "Serpents"

Of all the djinn in all the deserts of Arabia, Arqam was the most curious. He never passed a human dwelling, as he rode the night winds, without stopping to peer inside. He never passed a chest or jar, but he had to peek within.

All the elder djinn said he would come to bad end and it was his grandmother's human blood making him such trouble. None of them were surprised the day he was taken.

Arqam had ventured far to the east, leaving behind the sand and oases of his native Arabia, into the lush jungles of India, where the foreign white men ruled the local people. He listened to the clipped accents of the English, the soft music of the Indians. He peered into bungalows and huts, disregarding the privacy of Her Royal Majesty's Major General and the lowest of the pariahs with equal aplomb.

He watched the brown women in their colorful saris and the pale ones covered and corseted and fainting in the heat. He watched the men as they worked. In time, he grew sleepy and made a hammock of vines near the outskirts of a small village.

As he lolled in the steaming night, a distant cousin found him. “Arqam,” it hissed, its low guttural voice making him uneasy.

“Yes?” He peered over the edge of the hammock and saw what had addressed him. Although ghuls were a sort of djinn, Arqam's people had little contact with them. They served Iblis and haunted the graveyards. His folk lived invisible in the air. Arqam looked around but saw no graves. “May I help you, cousin?”

“I am Shahib, the fire that consumes the dead. Why do you wander so far away? No mind, all have heard of Arqam, how he sticks his long beautiful nose into every house and everyone's business.” The ferocious little grey thing crouched beneath his hammock. “I'd check your curiosity soon enough, pretty cousin.” Shahib's laugh was ugly and he batted at the hammock.

Arqam did not move from the hammock. As long as he stayed within, the protective spells would not let Shahib touch him. Shahib tried again, and the breeze of his hand's passage disturbed Arqam. Arqam looked down at the hideous creature, grey and snarling beneath him, its corded arms too long, like a hyena's front legs.

“Leave, Shahib. Follow the vultures and find some carrion. You do not feast upon djinn this night.” Arqam rolled over and pretended to sleep.

From below him, he heard the evil chuckling of the ghul. “A pity. It is said the djinn know more of congress than even the sensualists of India. But I do not tempt you, my pretty cousin.”

Arqam feigned sleep. He felt the hammock quake where Shahib shook one tree as he departed. But he remained safe, and in time, he fell asleep.

Monday goodies

Classic Molasses Popcorn Balls Recipe
This recipe makes wonderful crisp-chewy caramel popcorn balls that taste a bit like Cracker Jacks. Add some peanuts to make them even more Cracker-Jacky, and be sure to use a molasses with a nice flavor for the best result. Makes about 40 classic Halloween popcorn balls.
This easy popcorn ball recipe calls for plain granulated sugar, but feel free to use brown sugar to give them a richer flavor.

Ingredients:
1 C. granulated sugar
3/4 C. light corn syrup
1/4 C. molasses
2 tbsp. butter
1/2 tsp. salt
8 quarts (1 gallon) popped popcorn, unpopped kernels removed


Instructions:
1. In a heavy saucepan, combine sugar, corn syrup, molasses, butter, and salt.

2. Bring to a simmer, and cook over medium for about 3 1/2 minutes.

3. Pour mixture over popcorn.

4. Mix well with a wooden spoon or spatula.

5. With greased hands, form into popcorn balls.

6. Let cool on greased baking sheets or waxed paper.

Halloween goodies

A Not Work Safe excerpt from Spellbound Desire

















 He stared into my eyes like some cheesy romance hero and just like those books said, about a dozen butterflies banged around in my stomach, trying to escape. I felt ridiculous.

“Gonna bite me again, are ye?” he asked, one hand coming up to stroke my chin. I rubbed against it like a cat.

“No,” I whispered. “The quicker we get this out of the way, the better we'll work together. Stupid distractions.” The words didn't even feel like mine. Too real and sincere by half.

“Least said, soonest mended,” he agreed.

His mouth covered mine, the goatee silkier on my face than I'd expected. I liked the feel of it there, liked the feel of his lips on me. He tasted nice, a little smoky from the barbecue. He touched my lips with his tongue and it wasn't slick and awful like the few fumbling kisses I'd had in my teens before I gave up on kissing.

I hesitated, and then opened up for him. He came in gentle, like a visitor looking around instead of trying to gag me by shoving in all at once. I liked the sweetness. His tongue tasted even smokier and I sucked on it just a little as he ran it along mine.

I heard some soft moans that might have been mine and the hard breathing that definitely was. I pressed closer, needing to feel more of him against me, the leather and the skin both.
He snorted a chuckle and broke the kiss.

I smiled as I realized I was practically in his lap. Blame the mana, because D. J. Admire had never sat astride a man's lap. “Again?”

“Aye and as many as you want.” One of his hands slid around to cup my breast. “And anywhere you're wanting them.” He tugged me up to kneel up over his lap and pulled me down for another kiss.

This time I got his vest open, the little hooks on the front working just like the ones on the wicker chest I kept my few photos in, and he tugged my shirt out of my jeans. I rubbed against the chains on his kilt, sensitive enough to feel every link through the soft denim.

“And where are you wanting to kiss me?” I asked as I licked his scar out to his earlobe and the other all the way up to his eyebrow.

He undid my bra and I realized I was topless, in the lap of a near-stranger, dry-humping him through leather and denim.

“Oh lovely,” he sighed and planted a soft kiss on each nipple. I shuddered as my whole skin broke out in goose bumps. He looked up and gave me a smile which went wicked with mischief. That made those stupid butterflies feel like they were the size of bats and everything down below went gooshy.

He ducked his head and flickered his tongue over each nipple, back and forth, right, left and right again. I bucked against his lap, against the growing bulge I could feel under the kilt. I finally got it into the right place, and rubbing along the seam of my jeans and I rode it hard.

“More, please, more!” Well damn, even my dialogue was being written by Harlequin instead of Raymond Chandler now. Fucking mana. I wondered if the mana would make the fucking better, because I wanted him inside me, all of that nice, thick cock I'd seen during our little mental mutual masturbation session.

He just chuckled again. “All you need, lass.” He took a firmer grip on me and started to move us both.

For a second, I went into combat mode getting my leverage and ready to fight against being thrown, but he just laid me back on the sofa very gently and opened my jeans. I didn't want to be fucked on my back, but somehow, I couldn't get my protest out around his mouth.

My jeans were gone and so were my panties. His kilt stayed between us and I rubbed up against that ridge, wanting it, not wanting it, and needing to have him in me before I went off like a bottle rocket.

He was down to my tits again, but not lingering. Then it was all soft beard and softer lips on my belly. It should have tickled, but instead I just wanted him to keep going. Each one of the kisses tingled and burned almost as sweetly as my captain did.

He kept going, right on down. He hovered for a moment, taking deep breaths like he was smelling the most delicious dessert in the world. I wondered if I should have at least trimmed my bush. Bran, lovely man, didn't seem to care that I was completely au natural. He plunged right in, fingers, teeth, tongue and lips everywhere until I screamed.

Big mistake, Admire. Shouldn't lose control like that, especially when you're not the only office-cum-apartment on the floor. I giggled at that, since my office-cum-apartment really was full of the second item.

Two loud pounds on the door didn't give me time to realize I was being intruded upon, before my landlady, Frau Blucher—name withheld to protect the psychopathic-- barged in.

I glanced around, glad the sofa blocked most of us from view.

“Admire! What the hell? You sounded like you were being murdered. Just you and your dyke girlfriend, huh?”

Bran hadn't stopped. He hadn't even noticed the intrusion and was still flicking his tongue over my clit and running two long fingers in and out of me. I pounded my fist on the back of the couch as I came again and swatted his shoulder. “I'm fine, ma'am,” I managed.

“Tell the bitch that combat boots with a skirt are so last season. Your rent is due in three days, Admire. Be on time for once in your life and maybe I'll forget this little lesbian scene. It's illegal in Tennessee, you know.”

Bran chose that moment to pop his head up and look around. “Lesbians? Where?” he asked Frau Blucher, his burr thicker than ever. I looked at him, his hair mussed and sweaty, his face glistening, yet earnestly hopeful, and burst out laughing.

Frau Blucher stared at him, then me, and shook her head. “Rent, Admire. Six hundred dollars, three days.” She slammed the door behind her.