I don't mean Oklahoma. 

So, where do things stand? 

1. I am actively querying Widowed Witch of the West as of today. OMG! Freaking out! I know it's a long road, but this first step is kinda freaking me out! 

2. I am working on Sanguine Road. My goal is to be done by November with the first draft. I know vampires are a hard sell, but I have faith in Lucy. Who is, after all, not a vampire. Although Emeric is and I adore his differences from other urban fantasy heroes. Early beta feedback on this story has been good so, fingers crossed!

3. For Nano, unless something derails me, I am writing a Copper and Riona novel. This will start after all of the short stories. I am still not sure what, if anything, I will do with those. Other than <3 them forever.

4. Kids are back in school which means my schedule changed. So, give me another month to be fully adjusted to that situation.

5. Next year seems so far away, but I am thinking I might spend some time finishing up the rewrite of Mad Baron. 

That is it for numbers. Here. Let me tease Sanguine Road a wee bit. 

Filthy, ancient carpet passed untouched under my feet as I ignored the sting of bleach in my nostrils to grab Emeric by the throat.  His hands came up, but he could not budge me. Nails dug into my skin, but he’s not my first. A human, or a wolf, would be out by now. Anything requiring air to function would gasp in my face and either fight more fiercely or give up.

Emeric, not needing air, damn the undead, continued to try to pry my fingers from his throat. If he dies, from my hand especially, there would be no payment. My fingers eased up and he took it the wrong way. A fist connected with my stomach and it was me who gasped.

I needed air. Right now, I had very little. Emeric tried to get the advantage, but I merely tightened my fingers again on his throat. His fangs were out and brown eyes were narrowed to tiny slashes in his handsome face.

My own fangs, far longer to contend with a prey who fought, were visible. The couple to the east of my room had stopped fighting. Some speck of animal in them had sprung to life and sent them to the far side of their room. They huddled together in the closet, barely breathing. The parking lot stood empty and I heard five different locks click into place.

Not even the bleach could hide the scent of Emeric. Not when I so desperately wanted to tear out his throat to show him the error of his way. If only he were food as well as prey.


I released him, tore my arms from his nails and felt the sting of broken skin, and backed across the room. Time wasted while I fought. Every second could be the death of someone I loved. His nose didn’t even twitch at the scent of my blood. I’m no more food for him than he is for me.