Romance and Mystery Authors on Writing with Gail Roughton, Giveaway

Wishing you a happy and safe Halloween!

Speaking of Halloween, today we welcome our author-tipster Gail Roughton who penned an entire series about a witch and a warlock, perfect for this time of year. Witch Resurrected is the first in this fun, action-packed War-n-Wit Inc. romance/mystery. You could win that e-book or take your choice of any PDF format of e-books on Gail's Amazon page just by leaving a comment below.

Welcome, Gail! You've conjured up fantastic tips for us today. I've invited all these folks to pull up a chair to your kitchen table and enjoy a chat in your Southern home. It's fall now so I don't know if you're serving delicious Southern sweet tea or hot apple cider to our visitors. Let's start off with your "light bulb" moment in your writing experience.

I don’t know the exact moment when it clicked but my writing changed from amateur to professional when I learned how to show, not tell.  That’s what every publisher wants, what every editor tells you to do.  Unfortunately, they don’t tell you how to do it.  I don’t think they can tell you, because I think the “click” happens differently for everyone.  The closest I can come to an explanation is an example.  It’s really hot outside. How do you show that and not tell it?  Let’s see.  “It was very hot outside.”  Well, big whoop.  That’s a statement of fact, but it doesn't make the reader feel hot, now does it?  So okay.  “It was hot enough to fry eggs on the sidewalk.”  Better, but a standard cliché and clichés are to be avoided as much as possible.  So try again.  “Steam sizzled up from the sidewalk.”  Do you see those threads of steam streaming up from the concrete?  That’s show.  Not tell.  And it’s like riding a bicycle.  Once you hear that “click”—you can’t un-hear it.  You’ll never write the same way again.

Thanks, Gail, for that excellent advice on show and tell. 
Now, Readers, Gail didn't play any tricks on you. Her tips on dialogue, characters, settings, editing, marketing/promoting are solid treats for writers. Ya'all get comfortable and read on.

DIALOGUE

Dialogue is your best friend. It carries your book. It can turn any novel, however short or however long, into a quick, fast, fabulous read, provided it reads naturally.  People don’t speak in grammatically perfect, complete sentences, and neither should your characters. 

People have their own speech patterns, flow, idioms and idiosyncrasies based on birthplace and background.  So should your characters. Absolutely nothing jars a reader, at least me (me being the reader I know best) out of story faster than a character talking “out of character”.  A good ol’ southern boy is not going to suddenly proclaim, “Oh, my! That startled me out of my wits!” He’s going to say “That ‘bout scared the pants off me!” (Actually, that’s not really what a good ol’ southern boy’s going to say in such a situation but this is a G blog and you get the general idea.)  Also, watch those tags.  In a two-person conversation, it’s pretty obvious which character is talking.  Adding tags after every line of dialogue breaks the flow and thereby defeats the entire purpose of dialogue in the first place.  You want the reader to feel as though they’re listening to a conversation, not reading one. 

CHARACTERS

I know writers who develop their characters like a science project.  They make lists of physical attributes, traits, activities.  They even chart their horoscopes.  And it works for them, so more power to them.  I don’t know where my characters come from.  They just – appear.  Sometimes fully grown and raring to go, sometimes in a ghostly shadow that gradually acquires solid form and substance.  I start writing when they stand up independently and start walking and talking and telling me their story.  They tell the story, not me.  I just transcribe their words and actions onto a computer screen.  I can’t tell you how to develop a character because I don’t know how.  And once the story’s told and the book’s written, I look at both the characters and the book itself the same way I look at my children – with an intense feeling of disbelief that I created them, that I had anything to do with them.  They’ve become independent entities I really had very little to do with.

SETTINGS

Write what you know.  Write where you know.  Someplace you’ve at least visited, even if you haven’t lived there.  Now sometimes, of course, characters suddenly decide they’re taking a vacation to someplace you know nothing about.  There’s this wonderful thing called the internet , usually full of videos of that exact place, lists of attractions, restaurants, you name it.  But to write a book where a reader can live, stick as much as possible with what you know, where you were raised, someplace you love.  Or hate. Depends on the mood you want to convey, of course.  Also, remember it’s not necessary to fully describe every tree in the woods, every bush in a yard.  Description sets a mood and a scene. Every reader will envision the details in their own unique way, personalize the story so it resonates with them.  You’re telling a story.  You’re not writing a travel guide. 

1      EDITING

When you first finish a book, put it aside for a while. At least a week, preferably a month to six weeks.  Then re-read it.  You’re your own best first editor.  Then take a scalpel to it.  With the ruthlessness of a surgeon.  Nothing you wrote is so good it can’t be improved.  Nothing you ever write is so good it can’t be improved.  Read it like you’re reading it for the first time, like you just picked it up in a bookstore.  And be honest.  If you’d just bought this book, would you keep reading it?  If not, why not?  That’s for the story itself.  Insofar as the technical writing, how many unnecessary words can be cut?  I’m speaking specifically of the dreaded “that”, as in  “Mary knew that she was in trouble.  Sarah knew that she was in trouble, too.”  Oh, yeah, those “that’s” repeated over and over really slow a reader down.  “Mary knew she was in trouble. Sarah knew it, too.”  Then move on to the second editor.  Somebody that’s not you.  They’re going to see a lot of things you missed completely.  Typos, incongruities in the timeline, missing gaps of necessary information, information dumps that are completely unnecessary.  And sometimes—gasp—they’re actually going to suggest an alternate way of phrasing a passage or structuring the plot.  And here’s where a serious writer needs to lose that gasp of outraged indignation and lose it quick.  LISTEN TO THEM.  They might be wrong.  But they might be right.  Don’t get your feelings hurt.  Because one more time—nothing you wrote is so good it can’t be improved.  Nothing you ever write is so good it can’t be improved.

1    MARKETING/PROMOTING

Write a good book. All the marketing and promoting in the world won’t sell a book that’s boring, poorly edited, full of errors, and populated by cardboard characters. The best promo is the next book.  And that next book better be just as good as, if not better, than the first.

# # # #

ABOUT GAIL ROUGHTON

Gail Roughton is a native of small town Georgia whose Deep South heritage features prominently in much of her work. She’s worked in a law office for close to forty years, during which time she’s raised three children and quite a few attorneys. She’s kept herself more or less sane by writing novels and tossing the completed manuscripts into her closet.

Gail and Grandson

A cross-genre writer, she’s produced books ranging from humor to romance to thriller to horror and is never quite sure herself what to expect when she sits down at the keyboard. Now multi-published by Books We Love, Ltd., her credits include the War-N-Wit, Inc.  series, War-N-Wit, Inc. - Witch Resurrected, War-N-With, Inc. - Mean Streets, The Color of Seven ,Vanished, and Country Justice. Currently, she’s working on Black Turkey Walk, the second in the Country Justice series, as well as the Sisters of Prophecy series, co-written with fellow Books We Love, Ltd. author Jude Pittman. Another War-N-Wit plot always seems to be brewing on the back burner, too, whether she’s actually trying to brew one or not, and usually boils quicker when she’s trying not to brew one at all.  Stop in and visit! You can reach Gail at:   http://gailroughton.blogspot.com,  http://flowersonthefence.blogspot.com or message her at www.facebook.com/GailRoughton

Do you have questions for Gail about writing? Please ask or just say hi to be eligible to win the drawing for you choice of e-book on the Amazon page. 

Spotlight on Karina Fabian's Mind Over Psyche and Giveaway

Welcome fantasy author, Karina Fabian, who is on her book tour for her latest book, Mind Over Psyche, Book Two in the Mind Over Trilogy. For your chance to win a free electronic copy of Mind Over Psyche, leave a comment or question for Karina.

Can Deryl and his friend unlock the secrets of Deryl’s role on Kanaan 

before the Kanaan decide he is too dangerous to let live?

I admire Karina's creative, imaginative writing. Today she shares her thoughts on the joy of having written stories. Do you identify with her feelings? 

The Joy of Having Written

By Karina Fabian

Every now and then, we have Tabata week at the gym I attend.  If you don’t know Tabata, think of it as being in labor:  20 seconds of hard pushing and pain, followed by ten seconds of rest.  Of course, drugs are discouraged and your trainer might not appreciate it if you snarl, “This is your fault!” but it only lasts an hour, and then you’re done until the next day.  Sometimes, I enjoy going to the gym, but it had been a crazy week, anyway, and my motivation was low, even less so for Tabata, but I went.

 

Why?  Even though I didn’t look forward to going, I enjoyed having gone.

That’s how it goes with writing sometimes.  There are plenty of times when I don’t feel like writing.  Sometimes, other things in life seem much more important, whether planning a surprise for my husband’s retirement or doing dishes.  Sometimes, it’s looking at my Amazon sales and realizing that, should something horrible happen to Rob, I would not be able to support my family on my writing.  Rarely, but on occasion, a bad review or comment from someone will make me wonder why I bother.

But why I bother in those moments is the same reason I bother to go to the gym:  Even if I don’t want to write, I invariably enjoy having written.

There’s a definite satisfaction in a scene well crafted, a character who comes alive on the keyboard, or a sentence that makes your eyes sting with its poignancy.  (Just wrote one of those today, in fact.)   There’s getting that message out of the blue from a reader saying they loved my book, or from an editor asking when the next story is coming.  There’s that hope that this story, this novel, will be the one to break through—but of course, that will never happen if I don’t write it.  I know, too, that I’m in this for the long term.  I love writing.  I love having written, and I love going back over my own stories and marveling anew at the adventures I lived without ever leaving my chair.

Karina shows off the results of her gym workouts.

After eight months at the gym, including four or five weeks of Tabata, I’ve lost 25 pounds.  That puts me at just under 145.  One of the ladies asked me what my ultimate goal was.  I suppose I could go for 120 or 125, which is what my weight from my teens to my early thirties, but I realize that it doesn’t matter as much to me, any longer.  Maybe I’ll get there, but if I can stay around 140 and keep going with my exercising, then I’m satisfied.

You know, I have to keep that same attitude with my writing.  Someday, I may make the NYT best-seller list.  I may find my Amazon sales grow enough to let my husband quit his day job.  But if that never happens, then if I can keep writing and producing and find readers who love my work, then I’m satisfied.  Even when my motivation is low, and things around me discourage me from my craft, I keep pounding away at those words, the same way I pound away at the weights (minus the labor-like groaning, of course.)

After all, the real satisfaction is in having written.

# # # #

Excerpt from Mind Over Psyche

Joshua returned to consciousness fully expecting to be in a hospital bed, his slashed throat swathed in bandages, his singing career over before it had started. His hands moved to his throat, found it bare and intact and breathed a prayer of thanks before opening his eyes.

He found himself on his back in a small, tree-lined meadow, but he didn’t recognize the trees.

He sat up slowly, more disoriented than dizzy. Had he had amnesia? “Sachiko?” he called. “Mom? Dad? Anyone?”

He saw Deryl lying on his side, unconscious. Not far from him, near a break in the treeline, stood—

Joshua gulped.

A unicorn!

…or something like a unicorn. Its rhinoceros-like horn and thick neck and shoulders made it a far scarier version than any Joshua had read about in fantasy novels. It stared straight at them.

Joshua licked dry lips. “Easy fella,” he soothed, and reached over to shake his friend. “Deryl, time to wake up.”

Part of Joshua’s mind gibbered that Deryl was really psychic, that he’d teleported them to an alien planet. Another part argued that he was dreaming or had gone insane himself. He told them both to shut up, but he couldn’t stop his breathing from accelerating or his hands from trembling as he shook his friend.

Deryl’s eyelids fluttered, then closed.

He’s drugged. Malachai’s zombiefied him again, and we’re stuck on another world!

He shook his friend harder. “Come on, man! Don’t do this to me. Wake up!”

Joshua heard hoof beats and turned in time to see several unicorns with red-clad riders approach from the trail. He vaguely noted they looked human, before his eyes focused on the swords they drew.

He did the only thing he could think of. He raised his arms, palms open, and said, “We come in peace!”

The warrior he faced, a scowling man with a narrow head, wide-set eyes, and a pocked and scarred face, didn’t understand him or didn’t care. He arched his sword toward Joshua.

Joshua covered his head with his arms and ducked.

Buy Links

Epub

Kindle

Print

# # # #

Winner of the 2010 INDIE for best Fantasy (Magic, Mensa and Mayhem), Karina Fabian has plenty of voices in her head without being psychic.  Fortunately, they fuel her many stories, like the Mind Over trilogy. Mrs. Fabian teaches writing and book marketing seminars,

but mostly is concerned with supporting her husband, Rob Fabian as he makes the exciting leap from military officer to civilian executive, getting her kids through high school and college, and surviving daily circuit torture…er, circuit training.  Read about her adventures at http://fabianspace.com.  

Find Karina at:

Website: http://fabianspace.com, http://dragoneyepi.net

Blog:  http://fabianspace.blogspot.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/karina.fabian

Twitter:  http://twitter.com/#!/KarinaFabian

Google +:  https://plus.google.com/103660024891826015212

This Week's Events

Welcome to the J.Q. Rose blog! 

Glad you're here. I want to share this event packed week with you. 

I hope you'll join in on the fun!

TONIGHT-

Come and visit at the Writer's Chatroom tonight from 7-9 pm EDST. I am the guest author at the chat moderated by Audrey Shaffer. Please join us for a great discussion, giveaway, and fun!

Click on Enter Chatroom, fill in your name and hit sign in. No registration or password necessary.

I began lurking at the Writers Chatroom many years ago when Audrey Shaffer was known as the Google Queen. I enjoyed the camaraderie and writing tips imparted by Audrey and the gang at TWC. If you are beginning your journey in writing or have several published pieces under your belt, you will enjoy the Sunday night Author Guest Chats and the Wednesday less formal chats from 8-10 pm.

TUESDAY JUNE 4--

Paranormal auithor Sarah Jane Lehoux rolls in on her Sevy Series blog tour. Come back and see why she believes "it’s a writer’s duty to educate themselves in human psychology." Also leave a comment for a big prize giveaway.

THURSDAY JUNE 6--

Author Helena Fairfax is our author hobbyist for the Hobby Hoedown event. She has knitted some adorable figures. Please leave a comment to win her new romance, The Silk Romance.

Meet Author Janie Franz

Please say hello to author Janie Franz, a multi-talented lady. She says she "comes from a long line of liars and storytellers." That quote is straight from her bio at the end of the page. She is a woman of many interests.

Is keeping a promise to a dying woman more important
than personal friendships and safety ? Only Jan-nell can decide.

Jan-nell Speaks of Growing Things by Janie Franz

[Today, Jan-nell, the main character in the Bowdancer Saga of which The Lost Song: Verses is a part, speaks about her love of growing things.]

When I have my hands plunged deep into fertile soil, I feel more connected to the One and all living things. I lived on the horse plains as a child and trained as The Bowdancer, the spiritual leader and healer of my village. I grew herbs there and some vegetables. I fed myself and made salves and tinctures and teas for those who came for healing.

But I left that safety and lived on the Wayfarer’s Road, foraging for things to eat and herbs for cures and comforts. I taught my daughter all I knew and eventually how to grow some meager fare up on the mountain where she lives with the famed warrior women.

Since I left my babe with those kind hearts there, I have spent my days raising my son and growing new things in this fertile land of his father’s people. I have tomatoes and cucumbers and potatoes and lots of leafy greens to cook. I have an abundance of herbs for healing and for herbing a hen or a fine rabbit my son brings home when he is out hunting with his teacher, Bekar, the Master Hunter of the Sisterhood, the inner circle of hunters and trackfinders on the mountain. It is forbidden that she teaches him. But she honors a pledge she made to the babe when he was born and I had to bring him down mountain to raise. I wonder what else Bekar teaches him.

I have taught him all I know about growing things in this rich soil. He could tend my garden now without my eye on him and herb a stew as well as his sister or as I. I just hope he feels the same connection I do with the powers within the ground and the rain and sun.

[I smile at Jan-nell’s deep connection with the earth. I, too, feel it here in the mountains of Santa Fe as I dig and build, creating my first garden in this new home of mine. I would like to think that I will be as skilled as she not only in the growing of green things but in the culinary and healing arts she possesses.]

# # # #

Excerpt:

Jan-nell frowned into her tea. “I never did craft the story-song of your history.”

“Well, that is one of the reasons Leyton sent me down in the middle of hunting. She wants you to hear Dekla’s gossip before the old woman passes into the winter snows. Leyton says there is a song that no one has heard.”

“Is Dekla dying?”

“Not yet, but she is ill, and at her age, we do not know if this might be the time the Maker will take her.”

A hail interrupted their conversation, and they looked up to see young Bearin, coming across the meadowland with his bow and quiver across his back. Striding beside him was another tall woman in hunting leathers like Chandro’s, also bearing a long bow and quiver and something suspended from a cord over her shoulder and falling behind her back. The woman’s dark hair had been shaved on one side of her head and hung down to her mid ear on the other side. She moved with a catlike grace, and young Bearin was making a good show of copying her agile movements.

Jan-nell stood and ran to meet Bearin, stopping short of enfolding him in her arms.

Buy Link: 

About Janie Franz

Janie Franz comes from a long line of liars and storytellers with roots deep in east Tennessee. Honed by the frigid Northern Plains and a degree in anthropology, her writing skill and curiosity have generated thousands of feature and cover articles over a vast range of topics for more than a hundred regional, national, and international publications for over a decade.

She has co-written two books with Texas wedding DJ, Bill Cox (The Ultimate Wedding Ceremony Book and The Ultimate Wedding Reception Book), and has self-published a writing manual, Freelance Writing: It’s a Business, Stupid!

Janie runs her own online music publication, Refrain Magazine, and she is a book and music reviewer, and was a radio announcer, a booking agent/publicist for a groove/funk band, and a yoga/relaxation instructor.

Janie's Website:
 

Discover Author Lorrie Unites-Struiff

I'm thrilled to have a chance to introduce you to multi-genre author Lorrie Unites-Struiff. She tells her clever stories with so much humor that you just have to smile after reading her work. She'll put a spring in your step once you experience her writing.

Let me tell you more about her. Lorrie Unites-Struiff is a native of West Mifflin, twenty minutes from downtown, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. She writes in different genres for the pure enjoyment of entertaining readers. When she is not sitting in front of her computer, she’s often found checking out bookstores, leading her writing workshops, or having lunch with local authors.

Today Lorrie shares her inspiration for writing the paranormal romance and mystery, Gypsy Blood.

Welcome readers and authors,

 Thank you for being here with me today.

Let me tell you how I got my inspiration for Gypsy Blood.

Once upon a time, a good friend, an author in her own right, insisted she treat me for my birthday.

I won’t tell you which birthday, so don’t ask.

My friend took me to a quaint little restaurant where the food was scrumptious. Lo and behold, they had a gypsy fortuneteller seated at a table in the corner. Of course we indulged in both the food and having our fortunes told. The gypsy fascinated me and most of her predictions have come true. She nailed my lifestyle and my hopes.

It was an interesting and fun birthday celebration.

            When I returned home, my thoughts stayed with the gypsy. Being an author, I love to take interesting characters, mix in a few troublemakers and plot storylines for them. This gypsy impressed me with her intelligence and her thoughtfully chosen words, so I researched the gypsies of yore and found some very interesting reading. Their mysticism and beliefs held me captive. I admit, I am often carried away with research. The Romani have rich, colorful traditions, which I included in the book.

Isn’t every writer a research hound?

            Hence, Rita Muldova came to life, a homicide detective of pure Roma blood, her mother a gypsy seer with great mystic powers and her uncle, a great baker and violinist.

            Following today’s popular trend of many readers, I decided to use, and yes, add a little… well…okay, a lot of mysticism.

            What is a story without a love interest? I gave her a handsome hunk of a FBI agent from Voodoo City. Yum. My kind of guy.

          Her best friend on the force, Della, is a character unto herself. She has Rita’s back.

          When I threw in an odd serial killer, it turned into a heck of a wild ride. A fast paced read for all you paranormal/romance/thriller readers out there.

Try it, I think you’ll enjoy the ride.

Lorrie.

# # # #

EXCERPT

Detective Rita Moldova peeked around the corner to make sure the hallway was empty. Making a quick right turn, she slipped into the autopsy lab to have a few minutes alone with the body. She tucked her white shirt tighter into her jeans and zipped her windbreaker to stay warm in the chilly room. The harsh odor of formaldehyde hit her nostrils and stung her throat.

Her heart twisted at the sight of the young, auburn-haired woman lying on the stainless steel table. A white sheet covered her to the navel; bruises blemished the once pretty face. Contusions marred the pallid skin from elbow to shoulder. The gash on the front of her neck gaped, exposing open veins and torn tissue.

        Rita flipped her thick, dark braid back over her shoulder, snapped on one latex glove, leaned over the corpse, and peeled back an eyelid. In her bare hand, she clasped a star-shaped crystal hanging from the gold chain around her neck, an endowment from her maternal Roma bloodline. The crystal heated in her palm, warm energy pulsing up her arm to her shoulder. The face captured in the victim’s eye coalesced and stared back. Rita drew in a sharp breath. Bobby Driscoll! She had known him since high school, and now he worked as a uniform in her precinct.

    

Check Lorrie's website or write her for more info and the reviews.

Gypsy Blood is now available in e-book format at Amazon

Other links:

Facebook

Pinterest

Thank you, Lorrie for visiting today. Love your excerpt!

Today is the final day for the Coda to Murder tour. Race on over to Gail Roughton's Flowers on the Fence where we are discussing conflict in stories (and life.) Leave a comment to win prizes. They will be awarded after 9 pm tonight (Friday, March 22) Hope to see you there!!

Recipe: Dianne Hartsock's Pumpkin Curry

Author Dianne Hartsock sent her main character from her paranormal e-book, Trials of a Lonely Specter to visit us today. Thanks, Dianne for this recipe, er, I mean, thanks Quinn for sharing this curry recipe with us. To be eligible to win Dianne's book, leave a comment on what kind of pie you prefer...apple or pumpkin. Yes, that's your only choices for entering the contest. I imagine there will be some very interesting comments on this. Thanks, Everyone, for participating.

Quinn knows that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and Liam is no exception. Trying to intice Liam to appear, who, for a ghost, has some curiously earthy appetites, he cooked this up for dinner last night. Once the rich, spicy aroma started to fill the house, it was only a matter of minutes before the specter appeared at the table, blue eyes sparkling with hunger. Quinn counts this one a success!

Cashew, Coconut, and Pumpkin Curry

 Cashew, Coconut, and Pumpkin Curry

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 qts. peeled, 1 1/2-in. chunks pumpkin or other orange-fleshed squash (from a 3-lb. squash)
• About 1 tsp. kosher salt, divided
• 3 tablespoons vegetable oil, divided
• 1 onion, halved and cut into half-moons
• 1 or 2 red or green serrano chiles, minced
• 1 cinnamon stick (2 1/2 in. long)
• 20 fresh curry leaves* or 6 dried bay leaves
• 1 teaspoon turmeric
• 1 teaspoon cumin seeds
• 1 can (14.5 oz.) coconut milk
• 1 cup salted roasted cashews
• 1 tablespoon lemon juice
• Steamed basmati rice 

Preparation

• 1. Sprinkle pumpkin with 1/2 tsp. salt. Heat 1 tbsp. oil in a large nonstick frying pan over medium-high heat. Brown half the pumpkin in oil, turning once, 6 to 8 minutes; reduce heat if pumpkin starts getting dark. Transfer to a bowl and repeat with 1 tbsp. oil and remaining pumpkin.
• 2. Heat remaining 1 tbsp. oil meanwhile in another large frying pan over medium heat. Cook onion, stirring occasionally, until deep golden, 12 to 15 minutes. Transfer half to the nonstick frying pan and reserve other half in a bowl.
• 3. Add chiles, cinnamon, and curry leaves to onion in pan. Cook, stirring often, until curry leaves are very fragrant, about 2 minutes. Add turmeric, cumin, and remaining 1/2 tsp. salt and cook, stirring, until spices are fragrant, about 1 minute.
• 4. Return pumpkin to nonstick frying pan (with onion) and add coconut milk. Bring to a boil over high heat, then cover, reduce heat, and simmer until pumpkin is tender, 5 to 10 minutes. Stir in cashews and lemon juice, and add more salt to taste. Top curry with reserved onion and serve with rice.

*Find in Indian markets.
Recipe from Sunset Magazine OCTOBER 2011 

Trials of a Lonely Specter

MuseItUp Publishing, October 14, 2011 http://bit.ly/rhfkBG

Amazon: http://amzn.to/oSJqEX

There’s been an accident. Quinn believes he’s dead, though Liam insists otherwise. But if that is the case, why does Quinn see the two of them as ghosts? And why does Liam play along? Exposed to mediums and apparitions, Quinn has to make a decision: either accept his fate or risk everything to trust Liam one more time.

Excerpt:

The room darkened as Liam walked through an archway on the left and he hurried to follow him. He would have liked to take some time to examine the furnishing and tapestries of the parlor, but Liam pressed on. Quinn finally caught him at the far end of the room.

“Where’re we going?”

“We’ll find Betterford’s body reposing in the highest room of the tallest tower.”

Quinn gave him a dry look. “Wasn’t that for the ‘Sleeping Beauty’?”

“So I’ve heard,” Liam purred, looking like he was about to eat the canary.

Quinn didn’t like the eager way he swept through the kitchen to the servants’ staircase.

He tramped up the dark stairs in the apparition’s wake. Liam’s werelight was a mere flicker in his hand, casting eerie shadows on the close walls. Quinn was huffing by the time they reached the third flight and Liam stopped to let him catch his breath.

“Quinn?”

He looked up at the fond tone. Liam stood several steps above, curiously watching him. “You’re a ghost, my dear. You should be gliding up these stairs.”

Quinn’s mouth fell open. “I forgot,” he confessed. His eyes dropped, waiting for Liam’s mocking laughter. It never came. Instead, the man descended the stairs until he stood level with him. Quinn held his breath as the hand that held the werelight touched his cheek.

“You give me hope,” Liam said surprisingly. “Here, let me help you.” He slipped his arm through Quinn’s.

They fairly flew up the steps after that. Quinn laughed with the exhilaration that raced through him. He’d never felt so free. He wanted to burst through the roof and fly straight into the night. Liam grinned, sharing his joy in the sensation of weightlessness and speed.

All too soon they spilled into the hallway far above. Their laughter died at the grimness of the shadowy corridor. Quinn winced when Liam suddenly grabbed his hand. The spirit’s eyes glowed with anticipation.

He leaned close. “Trust me, Quinn.” His voice was shaking and the man cleared his throat. “Whatever you think of me after this, please remember that I want the best for you. For us.”

“I don’t understand.”

Liam shook his head, clearly disappointed by his answer. Tugging on his hand, he led him to a door in the middle of the corridor.

Quinn stared at the closed door, reluctant to open it. “Betterford’s in there?”

Liam made a noncommittal sound. They stood side-by-side looking at the door until a smile lifted the corner of Liam’s mobile mouth. “Are you going to open it, or are we staying out here all night?”

Dianne Hartsock

Blog: http://diannehartsock.wordpress.com/

FB: http://www.facebook.com/diannehartsock

Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/diannehartsock

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4850270.Dianne_Hartsock