Jared turned to go, but for some reason, the hairs on the back of his neck chose that instant to stand on end as if the air had taken on an electric current.
“Jared Scott?” a husky female voice said from behind him. Not Gloria. Another woman had arrived.
He turned back. “Well, finally.”
“I told you she was perfect,” Gloria chirped.
Amanda didn’t appear to appreciate that assessment any more than he did. She scowled at the receptionist for a second and then gave him the once over.
He did the same for her. Nearly as tall as his own six feet, she stood straight, her chin lifted, as she stared at him out of eyes the color of dark sapphires. Pale skin and black hair done up in a rigid twist completed the picture of someone formidable, even severe. The two of them likely wouldn’t do any giggling during their relationship.
Relationship? She’d design the execution of his wish. No more.
“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, Jared,” she said.
No formalities, indeed. “I forgive you, Amanda.”
She flinched at that, but only just barely. Someone who spent less time than he did reading people would have missed the slight narrowing of her eyes. Either the forgiveness bit or the pointed use of her first name had irked her. Fine. Only his few friends called him Jared. No one here counted as his friend.
“Well, then. Let’s get on with it.” She headed down a corridor, her long strides taking her away from him and forcing him to catch up. He took his time doing it. For one thing, she could damned well wait for him for a bit. For another, hanging back gave him a good view of her ass.
Though more slender than the pixie-cat, Amanda had her own curves. She wore leggings underneath a bulky sweater, and the movement in there sent his imagination into overdrive. Every swing of her hips, no matter how subtle, suggested the rounding of her buttocks.
By the time she stopped in front of one of the offices, he’d measured her breasts from memory. Small but firm. And when they’d entered and she’d taken her seat behind her desk, he’d already begun to have a very male reaction to her.
She bit her lip and shot him a gaze that went right through his chest and down to his groin. Recognition. She already knew what was happening between them.
“Please, sit down.” Her voice came out as deep as before, but now it had a hint of breathiness as well. She had a husky way of speaking. Something that made her linger for a millisecond on the vowel sounds. Sweet. Seductive.
Before his anatomy embarrassed him completely, he sat and watched her sift through some papers. She didn’t make eye contact, but a flush to her cheeks told him she was as aware of his presence as he was of hers.
After a moment, she picked up one sheet and studied it for a long moment. Her eyes widened as she stared up at him. “This is your wish?”
“To hunt a werewolf. Yes.”
“Why?”
“I suppose you’ve read my dossier,” he answered.
“Everyone in R and D becomes acquainted with the histories of our clients,” she answered. “You’ve served as CEO of a number of companies. Now, you have your own.”
“Government contracts. Top secret much of it.”
She set the paper down and studied him. “Military?”
“Intelligence mostly.” In fact, his agency contacts would take a dim view of his coming here and an even gloomier one if they knew what he’d come here for. None of their damned business. “So, you can see why confidentiality is so important.”
“We never give away information of our clients.” There was that deep tone again. The slow downward inflection on clients.
“Then, we understand each other,” he said.
“Not at all,” she said. “What does your history have to do with your wish?”
“Human beings… ordinary people… how shall I put this?”
She stared at him evenly. Assessing him the way he normally did with others. He had no reason to doubt her intellect, but he seldom encountered an equal. Given that and what her body did to his, she might present a real challenge with more than a little pleasure on the side. Right now, she obviously wasn’t going to help him explain himself.
“I want to hunt the greatest predator on Earth. You’d think that would be a human being,” he went on. “But average people are motivated by only a handful of things. Once you’ve figured out what they want, they’re really rather boring.”
“And so, your interest in werewolves.”
“What a creature. Imagine. The speed and keen senses of the wolf combined with the mind of the human. What kind of opponent one of them would make,” he said.
“Your wish is to hunt one.”
“You can’t hunt big game these days, and honestly, I have no interest. Animals are dumb beasts, and they belong in the wild.”
Another woman might have applauded his kindness. Amanda sat and stared at him out of her startling blue eyes.
“I don’t think the authorities would like me hunting people,” he continued. “But if WishLabz could create a werewolf for me, I could hunt that without breaking the law.”
The room fell into complete silence, and the woman sat across from him like a sphinx, not moving, hardly blinking. After a moment, she leaned back in her chair. “Create a werewolf?”
“You can make magic here, at least according to the people who referred me. I don’t know what sort of technology you have. If you can’t design a credible werewolf for me, you can refund my money.”
“And how would you kill this creature?” she asked. “Shoot it with a high-powered rifle from hundreds of yards away?”
“I didn’t say kill. I said I wanted to hunt it.”
“Killing the target’s the whole point of hunting, isn’t it?” she asked.
“One or both of us might die, I’ll admit,” he answered. “It’ll be dangerous sport.”
“Sport,” she repeated. This time her accent suggested more than a hint of derision.
“I don’t expect you to understand.”
That got a definite reaction -- one eyebrow arching. “Because I’m a woman?”
“Because you’re not in a position of command. I fought like hell to get where I am. Now that I’ve arrived, I miss the fight.”
She nibbled her lower lip for a few seconds. On another woman, the action might have suggested uncertainty. On her, it suggested she needed to gnaw on something and she hadn’t decided if he’d be worth the effort.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Church a sensual experience?
You know it's going to be a good day when you get to church early and the choir is rehearsing the Hallelujah Chorus. That happened last Sunday, and it put a spring in my step and a bubble of joy in the general vicinity of my heart. The feeling reinforced something I've been thinking for some time...that a great church is a truly sensual experience.
I'll leave aside the sense of taste because in the service itself we only consume the wafers and wine. The wine isn't going to win any awards, and the wafers? All I can say is that we in the altar guild sometimes end up eating large numbers of left-overs because they're blessed and can't be thrown in the garbage. Choking those things down ain't easy. As one of us once remarked, we could use some blessed onion dip.
My church is a huge, brick building. It's old by California standards, built in 1912. (Stop snickering, east coasters.) You walk in, and the beauty wows you. I'm not kidding here. I brought a friend of another faith one morning, and she gasped audibly. "It's so beautiful." The vaulted ceilings and huge stained glass windows in front and back tell you you're in a special space. There's one side window that's mostly blue panes. When the sun hits it, the light courses in toward the altar in what can only be called a heavenly glow.
What you don't expect, though, is the scent of St. Paul's. In almost 100 California winters, some seepage has occurred in the brick walls. The result is a pleasant musty perfume that my friend insisted smelled like a wine cellar. A parishioner told the rector that "it smells like church." One of my favorite things in the world is to sit all alone in the church and breathe deeply.
For the sense of touch...well, we're a huggy church. Our rector gives the best hugs. He's a tall, handsome man with a laugh you can hear from a block away...literally. But we all hug and touch. Sometimes we do it because we're so darned happy to be in that place with each other. During the peace, we all ooze out of the pews and walk up and down wishing each other "the peace of the Lord" and shaking hands. Visitors often think we're weird, but we wish them peace and shake hands with them, too.
The true feast for the senses comes from the music at St. Paul's. Our organ dates to 1934. When it's really snarling, it can rock even our huge space. That may be an exaggeration, but it certainly feels that way. Add our amazing choir, and you have a truly joyful noise. We have soloists who ought to be gracing opera stages. (You guys know who you are.)
I hear the doubters saying, "Yeah, yeah, Alice, but I can hear Messiah in a concert hall." To which, I say, "Not like this." While you're sitting up in the rafters with opera glasses, I'm sitting in pew #3 with the music right in front of me or next to me as the choir processes in or out. Besides, these are my friends making this glorious sound. They're singing for me. I can go up to them and hug them afterward.
What's even more remarkable is, for parts of the service, I'm not only allowed but encouraged to sign along. Sure, the congregation (sadly including me) makes a mess of some of the more difficult parts, but it's an work of love.
Which brings me back to the Hallelujah Chorus. It was supposed to be a choir effort, but everyone pretty much sang the parts they knew, including the rector, standing behind the altar. If that isn't enough to send your spirit toward heaven, you're a harder nut that I am. I have to admit that my eyes filled with tears. It was so d*mn*d beautiful.
I'll leave aside the sense of taste because in the service itself we only consume the wafers and wine. The wine isn't going to win any awards, and the wafers? All I can say is that we in the altar guild sometimes end up eating large numbers of left-overs because they're blessed and can't be thrown in the garbage. Choking those things down ain't easy. As one of us once remarked, we could use some blessed onion dip.My church is a huge, brick building. It's old by California standards, built in 1912. (Stop snickering, east coasters.) You walk in, and the beauty wows you. I'm not kidding here. I brought a friend of another faith one morning, and she gasped audibly. "It's so beautiful." The vaulted ceilings and huge stained glass windows in front and back tell you you're in a special space. There's one side window that's mostly blue panes. When the sun hits it, the light courses in toward the altar in what can only be called a heavenly glow.
What you don't expect, though, is the scent of St. Paul's. In almost 100 California winters, some seepage has occurred in the brick walls. The result is a pleasant musty perfume that my friend insisted smelled like a wine cellar. A parishioner told the rector that "it smells like church." One of my favorite things in the world is to sit all alone in the church and breathe deeply.
For the sense of touch...well, we're a huggy church. Our rector gives the best hugs. He's a tall, handsome man with a laugh you can hear from a block away...literally. But we all hug and touch. Sometimes we do it because we're so darned happy to be in that place with each other. During the peace, we all ooze out of the pews and walk up and down wishing each other "the peace of the Lord" and shaking hands. Visitors often think we're weird, but we wish them peace and shake hands with them, too.
The true feast for the senses comes from the music at St. Paul's. Our organ dates to 1934. When it's really snarling, it can rock even our huge space. That may be an exaggeration, but it certainly feels that way. Add our amazing choir, and you have a truly joyful noise. We have soloists who ought to be gracing opera stages. (You guys know who you are.)
I hear the doubters saying, "Yeah, yeah, Alice, but I can hear Messiah in a concert hall." To which, I say, "Not like this." While you're sitting up in the rafters with opera glasses, I'm sitting in pew #3 with the music right in front of me or next to me as the choir processes in or out. Besides, these are my friends making this glorious sound. They're singing for me. I can go up to them and hug them afterward.
What's even more remarkable is, for parts of the service, I'm not only allowed but encouraged to sign along. Sure, the congregation (sadly including me) makes a mess of some of the more difficult parts, but it's an work of love.
Which brings me back to the Hallelujah Chorus. It was supposed to be a choir effort, but everyone pretty much sang the parts they knew, including the rector, standing behind the altar. If that isn't enough to send your spirit toward heaven, you're a harder nut that I am. I have to admit that my eyes filled with tears. It was so d*mn*d beautiful.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Pasta Sauce St. Paul's
Pasta sauce St. Paul's
Last Sunday, one of our parishioners who also sings in the choir brought 25 pounds of Roma tomatoes from her garden to share. Here’s a recipe for pasta sauce I made with some of the tomatoes
For the pestata
2.5 ounces pancetta or bacon cut into pieces (optional)
½ large onion, cut into chunks
1 small red bell pepper, seeded and cut into chunks
Garlic (your preference for the quantity)
Olive oil for the pan
2 Tbs tomato paste
1.5 pounds Roma tomatoes, peeled, seeded and roughly chopped
2 Tbs chopped basil
Salt
Red pepper flakes
Grind all pestata ingredients in the food processor until well chopped. (You can put anything you want in a pestata. Carrots and celery are common ingredients.) Heat oil in large frying pan to medium hot. Add pestata (stand back so the steam doesn’t hit you). Cook until all the liquid is absorbed. Clear a hot spot in the pan and cook/brown the tomato paste in it. Season with salt and hot pepper flakes. Add tomatoes and basil. Cover and simmer until tomatoes have disintegrated and the sauce has thickened (anywhere from half an hour to an hour).
Remove top from pan and cook until sauce is the right consistency. Serve with your favorite pasta. Add freshly grated parmigiano reggiano. Drizzle with more olive oil if desired. Top with shredded fresh basil if desired.
Last Sunday, one of our parishioners who also sings in the choir brought 25 pounds of Roma tomatoes from her garden to share. Here’s a recipe for pasta sauce I made with some of the tomatoes
For the pestata
2.5 ounces pancetta or bacon cut into pieces (optional)
½ large onion, cut into chunks
1 small red bell pepper, seeded and cut into chunks
Garlic (your preference for the quantity)
Olive oil for the pan
2 Tbs tomato paste
1.5 pounds Roma tomatoes, peeled, seeded and roughly chopped
2 Tbs chopped basil
Salt
Red pepper flakes
Grind all pestata ingredients in the food processor until well chopped. (You can put anything you want in a pestata. Carrots and celery are common ingredients.) Heat oil in large frying pan to medium hot. Add pestata (stand back so the steam doesn’t hit you). Cook until all the liquid is absorbed. Clear a hot spot in the pan and cook/brown the tomato paste in it. Season with salt and hot pepper flakes. Add tomatoes and basil. Cover and simmer until tomatoes have disintegrated and the sauce has thickened (anywhere from half an hour to an hour).
Remove top from pan and cook until sauce is the right consistency. Serve with your favorite pasta. Add freshly grated parmigiano reggiano. Drizzle with more olive oil if desired. Top with shredded fresh basil if desired.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Built for Lust
Cara Logan is a lone wolf, literally -- a werewolf female unwilling to submit to either a human or a wolven mate. An expert in electronics and engineering, Cara builds herself a mate she can turn on and off at will. Only somehow, Gray becomes real, and not only can he satisfy her as a wolf, he can shift to human and perform that way, too. Now, she has to accept that she's mated to a male with a mind of his own, and the two of them have to find their places in her pack.
This is my first werewolf story...ever. I was intrigued by how an independent, strong woman might react to being a member of a close-knit pack, especially if she didn't feel she belonged. When she created Gray, it seemed inevitable that he'd become real.
The wonderful thing about writing is that you can play with the impossible and (with any luck) make it not only possible but necessary.
This is my first werewolf story...ever. I was intrigued by how an independent, strong woman might react to being a member of a close-knit pack, especially if she didn't feel she belonged. When she created Gray, it seemed inevitable that he'd become real.
The wonderful thing about writing is that you can play with the impossible and (with any luck) make it not only possible but necessary.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Help a legendary drummer -- Clyde Stubblefield
"Funk music legend Clyde Stubblefield needs our help. Clyde's innovative beats on many James Brown hits set a standard for funk drumming and, through sampling, have heavily influenced the direction of hip-hop and drum & bass music. Today Clyde continues to perform while receiving intensive weekly dialysis treatment since his kidneys failed in July 2009.
"Please consider making a donation to help him find some relief as he braves this journey.
"Every penny helps and donations travel directly to Clyde safely through PayPal. You can even join us in spreading the word and placing our widget on your own websites.
"Thank you & GIVE THE DRUMMER SOME!"
From Alice:
Those of you who know me personally know that I'm an addicted mega-fan of the classic soul band Tower of Power. The sounds of James Brown hugely informed TOP, and in fact, if we hadn't had musicians like Clyde Stubblefield, I likely wouldn't have my beloved band at all.
Several years ago, the call for help went out when TOP's legendary bass player, Rocco Prestia, had a medical emergency. Musicians ain't rich, folks, and they often don't have health insurance. It's up to us to keep the music playing.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
When the cover gods really smile on you
First of all, is that the most gorgeous wolf in the entire world? And the woman...and the sense of movement and sensuality. Hubba-hubba. I love this cover.
Most writers are clueless about visual art. Or at least, I am. I asked Changeling for a woman standing next to a wolf. What I had in mind would have been static and dumb. A woman and a wolf standing in a field.
Give this to an artist like Angela Knight, and you get magic! Yes, THAT, Angela Knight. The woman who writes such fabulous books she's risen to the very top of the cream of the crop.
I am truly blessed.
Most writers are clueless about visual art. Or at least, I am. I asked Changeling for a woman standing next to a wolf. What I had in mind would have been static and dumb. A woman and a wolf standing in a field.
Give this to an artist like Angela Knight, and you get magic! Yes, THAT, Angela Knight. The woman who writes such fabulous books she's risen to the very top of the cream of the crop.
I am truly blessed.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Please welcome Claire Robyns, author of Betrayed
Thanks for having me here today, Alice. I’m so excited about Carina Press and all the wonderful books already released, I have to keep on pinching myself to believe that I’m really amongst such brilliant company!
My medieval Scottish Romance is now available from Carina Press.
Two Feuding Families
Amber Jardin has no taste for the bitter feud started before her father’s banishment. But now that he’s passed, she’s had to return to Scotland and his barbaric people. After her bloodthirsty uncle kidnaps one of the family’s rivals, Amber is in turn captured by Krayne Johnstone, the enemy laird. Despite their enmity, their attraction is immediate—and unfortunate, as Amber has sworn to escape.
One Lusty Temptation
Krayne is amazed at the wildcat’s repeated attempts to flee. He should steel himself against her beguiling ways—yet with time, he is driven more witless with lust. When the ransom exchange fails and Krayne is left with Amber, he finds he cannot tolerate the thought of her with another man—and she cannot tolerate the thought of returning to her uncle’s home.
Will passion and love win out over mistrust and betrayal in time to prevent an all-out war?
Tell us about your Carina Press release.
Betrayed is a medieval Scottish romance set in the period of the first King James I ~ always confusing because King James VI became King James I of England much later (sorry about the history trivia, I’m addicted)
Krayne Johnstone became laird of Wamphray at the age of 12. He’s a man shaped by the harsh land. His heart is for pumping blood to his sword arm and nothing else. Before he could even start to fall in love with Amber, I had to teach the poor man what love is. But he is honourable and noble, and he has excellent reasons for distrusting scheming women.
Amber Jardin has led a pampered life in England and is totally unprepared for the barbaric realities of Scotland. But she’s not one to simper and bemoan her fate. She’s determined to shape her future and use whatever means on hand to do it. In this case, it’s her body. Amber is not perfect, far from it, but then I’ve never liked my heroines flawless. I don’t necessarily approve of everything she does, but I admire her courage and determination.
I’m fascinated with how books get their start. Do you remember the spark of an idea that grew to become this book?
Strolling through the many castle ruins of England, Scotland and Ireland and devouring the history behind those sites, I quickly became enthralled by the atrocious antics some of the nobility got up to, especially the Scots. And since there’s nothing badder than a bad Scots, and I like bad boys, I really loved the idea of writing a romance steeped in the mayhem of medieval Scotland.
What kinds of stories do you like to read and write?
I read pretty much everything. The most important thing to me is really living the story with the characters. If an author can achieve that inside my head while I read, I don’t really mind what the genre. Having said that, I’m naturally drawn to romantic comedy and historical romance so this is what I write. I also absolutely love romantic suspense and would give my eye-teeth to be able to write it, but I’m terrible at keeping secrets and would never last until the end before giving away the bad guys.
Tell us a bit about yourself. Family, house, pets, hobbies, that sort of thing.
I grew up in South Africa and met my British husband out there. Ever since, we seem to be playing hopscotch between South Africa and England, but cross fingers, we’ve been in the UK for about 5 years now and my darling husband hasn’t mentioned dragging us back to SA for a while now. We have 10 year old twin boys who are just starting to act like angsty teenagers, so I’m hoping they get it all out of their system before they actually do become teenagers.
What kind of music do you like? Do you listen to music while writing?
Okay, now I’m going to give away my age My favourite artists are Queen, U2, Lilly Allen and The Killers. I’ve tried writing to music, but it distracts me too much. I end up singing along and going into some sort of daydream instead of writing.
Who do you think is the sexiest man on Earth? What makes him sexy?
Ooh, can I choose two? Russell Crowe because he just has that right combination of rugged looks that isn’t actually good-looking, but more sort of lived-in hunky features. As to his personality, not sure I’d actually like him very much, but then I don’t have to live with him, I just have to gaze at him in adoration.
And my second would be Keanu Reeves. Totally opposite Crowe, but there’s something darkly mysterious about Keanu that fascinates me. Once again, not sure I’d like the guy in person very much.
Hmm, wonder what that says about me?
If you’d like to read a little more about Betrayed, you can read the excerpt at
http://www.clairerobyns.com/Betrayed.html
You can visit with Claire Robyns at
Website: http://www.clairerobyns.com/
FB: http://www.facebook.com/ClaireRobyns
Twitter: http://twitter.com/ClaireRobyns
Thanks again for allowing me to invade your blog today, Alice
My medieval Scottish Romance is now available from Carina Press.
Two Feuding Families
Amber Jardin has no taste for the bitter feud started before her father’s banishment. But now that he’s passed, she’s had to return to Scotland and his barbaric people. After her bloodthirsty uncle kidnaps one of the family’s rivals, Amber is in turn captured by Krayne Johnstone, the enemy laird. Despite their enmity, their attraction is immediate—and unfortunate, as Amber has sworn to escape.
One Lusty Temptation
Krayne is amazed at the wildcat’s repeated attempts to flee. He should steel himself against her beguiling ways—yet with time, he is driven more witless with lust. When the ransom exchange fails and Krayne is left with Amber, he finds he cannot tolerate the thought of her with another man—and she cannot tolerate the thought of returning to her uncle’s home.
Will passion and love win out over mistrust and betrayal in time to prevent an all-out war?
Tell us about your Carina Press release.
Betrayed is a medieval Scottish romance set in the period of the first King James I ~ always confusing because King James VI became King James I of England much later (sorry about the history trivia, I’m addicted)
Krayne Johnstone became laird of Wamphray at the age of 12. He’s a man shaped by the harsh land. His heart is for pumping blood to his sword arm and nothing else. Before he could even start to fall in love with Amber, I had to teach the poor man what love is. But he is honourable and noble, and he has excellent reasons for distrusting scheming women.
Amber Jardin has led a pampered life in England and is totally unprepared for the barbaric realities of Scotland. But she’s not one to simper and bemoan her fate. She’s determined to shape her future and use whatever means on hand to do it. In this case, it’s her body. Amber is not perfect, far from it, but then I’ve never liked my heroines flawless. I don’t necessarily approve of everything she does, but I admire her courage and determination.
I’m fascinated with how books get their start. Do you remember the spark of an idea that grew to become this book?
Strolling through the many castle ruins of England, Scotland and Ireland and devouring the history behind those sites, I quickly became enthralled by the atrocious antics some of the nobility got up to, especially the Scots. And since there’s nothing badder than a bad Scots, and I like bad boys, I really loved the idea of writing a romance steeped in the mayhem of medieval Scotland.
What kinds of stories do you like to read and write?
I read pretty much everything. The most important thing to me is really living the story with the characters. If an author can achieve that inside my head while I read, I don’t really mind what the genre. Having said that, I’m naturally drawn to romantic comedy and historical romance so this is what I write. I also absolutely love romantic suspense and would give my eye-teeth to be able to write it, but I’m terrible at keeping secrets and would never last until the end before giving away the bad guys.
Tell us a bit about yourself. Family, house, pets, hobbies, that sort of thing.
I grew up in South Africa and met my British husband out there. Ever since, we seem to be playing hopscotch between South Africa and England, but cross fingers, we’ve been in the UK for about 5 years now and my darling husband hasn’t mentioned dragging us back to SA for a while now. We have 10 year old twin boys who are just starting to act like angsty teenagers, so I’m hoping they get it all out of their system before they actually do become teenagers.
What kind of music do you like? Do you listen to music while writing?
Okay, now I’m going to give away my age My favourite artists are Queen, U2, Lilly Allen and The Killers. I’ve tried writing to music, but it distracts me too much. I end up singing along and going into some sort of daydream instead of writing.
Who do you think is the sexiest man on Earth? What makes him sexy?
Ooh, can I choose two? Russell Crowe because he just has that right combination of rugged looks that isn’t actually good-looking, but more sort of lived-in hunky features. As to his personality, not sure I’d actually like him very much, but then I don’t have to live with him, I just have to gaze at him in adoration.
And my second would be Keanu Reeves. Totally opposite Crowe, but there’s something darkly mysterious about Keanu that fascinates me. Once again, not sure I’d like the guy in person very much.
Hmm, wonder what that says about me?
If you’d like to read a little more about Betrayed, you can read the excerpt at
http://www.clairerobyns.com/Betrayed.html
You can visit with Claire Robyns at
Website: http://www.clairerobyns.com/
FB: http://www.facebook.com/ClaireRobyns
Twitter: http://twitter.com/ClaireRobyns
Thanks again for allowing me to invade your blog today, Alice
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