Book Tagline: Kendra’s ability of communicating with the dead is requested by her FBI criminal analyst friend to stop a killer from murdering agents.
Series Tagline: Kendra sees ghosts, and then her BFF, Jenna, becomes one. The two friends and FBI agent Derek Knight fight for justice to the victims of heinous crimes.
Kendra Spark, suspense-mystery romance author and communicator with the dead, is requested to hop on the first flight to D.C.
Jenna Powers, FBI criminal analyst and estranged best friend of Kendra, gets ghosticized in a fatal accident before relaying all the details of the FBI killer case.
Derek Knight, a dedicated FBI Special Task Force agent, takes lead on the case.
The investigation into the FBI agent killings continues as Kendra, Jenna – yes, even after death – and Derek work together on the case before Director of the Special Task Force Jackson Powers’ number is up. He’s Jenna’s father and the end-game of the killer’s target list.
Somehow the elusive killer remains undetected, until Kendra’s unique ability produces results and a final possibility at stopping his killing spree before it’s too late.
From the Author Review Copy: The scene –
Derek has Kendra in a casual interrogation room inside the FBI building – D.C.
The door opened
and Jackson Powers entered before I could respond.
around the room stopping when he saw me; his red rimmed eyes spoke volumes. I
clearly remembered his presence, a straightforward man, full of confidence and
direction, but in this moment he appeared like a man broken. I rose and reached
for a hand shake. Instead, he grabbed my hand and pulled me into a big bear
“I’m so very
sorry about Jenna. Sorry for your loss, for my loss…” Muscles tensed around my
vocals and cut off the words.
from both of us. Derek stepped out of the room, clicking the door closed.
“Jenna told me
she was meeting with you today, going to show you the city sights.” Jackson
held me for a few more minutes, patting my back and telling me it wasn’t my
The thought of
the accident initially being my fault had never entered my mind. Why would that
thought cross his? I stepped back. Obviously he hadn’t received the latest
details of the accident, but even so why would he consider that I’d feel
responsible. Even if I questioned that maybe I could have done something to
stop her in some way, she did save that boy. “Not sure what you mean…in
thinking it could be my fault?”
widened, maybe a little startled at my blatant question. “I assumed Jenna ran
after a little culprit that grabbed your purse or something much worse. She
must have gotten caught up in the chase to run in front of on-coming traffic.”
His face softened. “Kendra, I know Jenna, there was nothing you could have done
to stop her. She’s always been head-strong…was always
corrected himself, then his voice cracked, and suddenly something occurred to
privy to Jenna and Derek’s manhunt for the FBI killer, nor the reason I’m here.
Of course. Jenna had tagged along to certain crime scenes while she was still
in college, but from all that I remembered, Jackson wanted her profiling cases
strictly inside the building. She had access to all the crime scenes from
pictures and files on her laptop. At least she always used to complain about
his restrictions, and I couldn’t imagine he would allow her in the field on a
serial killer task force, unless things had changed in the last couple years.
There’d been a
few close calls on other cases, some of the agent’s family members being
abducted or being used for negotiation, leverage. While in college, Jenna told
me all the rules her father had enforced if she were to join in any of the FBI
cases. He protected her, and now she had returned the favor…to her demise.
Jenna and Derek
were hunting the serial killer behind Jackson’s back.
There was a tap
on the door and Derek stepped in. His brows were drawn close, eyes narrowed,
perhaps his expression of concern. “Sir, I thought Kendra might be hungry. She
hasn’t eaten all day.” He smiled at me, and then looked back at Jackson. “I’m
headed out for a late lunch and thought I’d take her with me.”
pressed together. He finally lifted his chin toward me. “Well, of course. We
certainly wouldn’t want anyone going hungry now, would we,” more of a statement
than a question. He patted my shoulder. “Go on, Kendra. We can continue our
talk later. I’d like to hear exactly what happened to my daughter from someone
who was there to witness it.”
Derek grasped my
elbow and led me toward the door.
following, Jackson released a long breathy sigh and sat on the couch. “Shut the
door behind you, Derek. And tell Darla I don’t wish to be disturbed.”
My heart swelled
huge behind my ribcage, again the confining weight pressing in on my ability to
breathe. I couldn’t imagine the emotional maelstrom Jackson was going through.
I knew only my own turbulent ride. Now I needed to get some facts straight; it
was my turn to interrogate Derek.
About the Author:
S. Peters-Davis writes multi-genre stories, but loves penning a good page-turning suspense-thriller, especially when it’s a ghost story and a romance. When she’s not writing, editing, or reading, she’s hiking, RV’ing, fishing, playing with grandchildren, or enjoying time with her favorite muse (her husband) in Southwest Michigan.
She also writes YA paranormal, supernatural novels as DK Davis.
Full length paranormal romance with shifters and gypsies and demons–and an HEA.
Long before Germany rounded up Romani and sent them to prison camps, the Netherlands declared them undesirables. Yara’s caravan disbanded when she was fifteen to avoid being driven out of the country. Ten years have passed, and she’s been alone for most of that time hiding in caves and abandoned buildings. It’s been a lonely life, but at least she still has one.
Stewart conceals his true identity for the best of reasons. He’s not actually Romani, even though he’s been a caravan leader for many years. In a bold and desperate move, he joins a small band of shifters and Rom to fight the Reich’s chokehold on Europe. When they’re crossing the border into the Netherlands, vampires attack.
Yara senses Romani near her cave. The stench of vampire comes through loud and clear too, along with shifters. While not nearly as bad as vampires, her people have always steered clear of them. Another type of magic plucks at her. She can’t identify it, but it draws her from her hiding place. That decision tilts her world on its axis when she comes face to face with Stewart’s raw masculinity and savage presence. She could still turn tail and run. If she stays, it doesn’t require magical ability to recognize her life will change forever.
What Makes This Book Special?
First off, thanks so much for hosting me. I very much
appreciate it. What’s special about Tarnished
Journey is an interesting question. For one thing, it’s the last of the
four Soul Dance books. There was a time when I was certain Tarnished Prophecy, book three of that series, would be the last
one. It was clear when I finished it, though, that there had to be one more
book. The series had too many loose ends, and there was no way I could tie them
all up without writing another full-length book.
I was part of a boxed set, originally titled Gypsies After
Dark. It was the beginning of this series, although I must admit I wrote Tarnished Legacy first. When it got too
long for the anthology, I developed Tarnished
Beginnings, which is more of a prequel than anything else since it takes
place in Egypt in the 1700s.
The unusual aspects of this series are four-fold:
*After the prequel, it takes place against a backdrop of
World War II Germany.
*It features gypsy magic.
*Vampires are the bad guys. They’re in league with Hitler,
and responsible for his rapid rise to power.
*Shifters are forced to examine their age-old hatred of
Romani. Of course the opposite applies too.
I very much enjoy writing historical fiction. The research
appeals to me, and I’ve always been fascinated by the Romani people. They have
such a rich and colorful history, and they’ve been persecuted since before they
Romance between Shifters and Romani adds a Romeo and Juliet
forbidden tryst aspect to books two and three, and book four really surprised
me. My old friends, the Celtic gods, not only showed up, they kind of took
This is why I don’t spend overmuch time outlining my books.
Not much point. My characters are strong-willed, and once they’ve come to life,
they grab the bit in their teeth and run with it.
can be read as a standalone, but people who’ve read the three earlier books in
the series will get so much more out of it.
paced in a rough circle, skirting the collection of shifters and Romani
gathered in small groups. He’d declared a rest break, but everyone was too
keyed up to sleep. A few of the shifters were combing the forest for food for
the rest of them. The shriek of a vulture on the hunt told him Meara wasn’t far
away. It had been drizzling all day, and now fog was moving in. He encouraged
it with a bit of magic. Anything that would shield their presence might help.
Hannover and Osnabrück as they transited the northern portion of Germany,
selecting backroads that had stressed their truck’s ability. There’d been a few
places where they’d all had to get out, but luck had been with them. They
hadn’t broken an axle or even had so much as a punctured tire.
border wasn’t far. Crossing it would push one problem—Nazis—to a backseat.
Vampires would still plague them, but he hadn’t sensed any since they’d passed
Hannover. Was it because the Reich was using every single one of the fell
creatures they could get their hands on?
The more he
thought about it, the likelier it seemed. Vampires reveled in blood and death.
Sex ran a hot second. The Nazi prison camps provided lush opportunities for
both feeding and fucking, a resource far too rich to be ignored. Vampires might
disparage the Reich, but they weren’t above using them to meet their needs.
A corner of
Stewart’s mouth twisted downward into a grimace. Hitler and his henchmen
believed they had vampires under their thumbs, but they’d be in for a rude
Och aye, and we
can only hope ’twill come sooner rather than later.
For once no one
was bothering him. No questions. No “Hey, Stewart, come here for a moment,”
It gave him a
much-needed opportunity to flesh out his plan for getting the group across the
border and examine it for holes. Critical elements he might have missed. They’d
be abandoning the large transport truck soon—not much choice, even though not
having it created other problems. Every road had border crossing guards, and
they prowled the terrain near their stations. The Nazis knew good and well that
once someone moved into the Netherlands, they were home free.
The safest way
across was on foot for the Rom and in shifted form for everyone else. He ticked
off names of the principal players. Tairin, Elliott, Jamal, Ilona, Meara, and
Gregor were shifters. All wolves except for Meara, whose other form was a
vulture. Nivkh and two other bear shifters traveled with them as well. That
left himself, Michael, Cadr, Vreis, and Aron, along with three other Rom from
He thought about
his own caravan hidden behind a magical barrier a short distance outside
Munich. It was hundreds of miles away, and he hoped to hell they’d be safe. He
hadn’t always been a caravan leader. In truth, he’d only adopted the Romani
mantle a mere century before. Or perhaps it had been two. Regardless, he’d
pulled off the deception swimmingly—until a few days ago. Jamal was sharp. He’d
asked pointblank what Stewart was, having intuited his magic didn’t match
Romani energy patterns.
Jamal had the good sense not to keep nagging once Stewart told him that topic
was off-limits. He swallowed a snort. Romani magic had dwindled until only a
very few had much left. But Jamal was a shifter, and an old, canny one at that.
Leave it to a shifter to call him out on his long-running deception.
Before the Nazi
problem heated up, he’d toyed with the idea of translocating his entire caravan
to Scotland, but he’d waited too long. He hadn’t understood how the Reich
solidified its powerbase so quickly—until he discovered their mass hypnotism
was fueled by vampire coercion.
A squawk from
Meara’s vulture was followed by a flash of light as she shifted midair and
somersaulted to his side, landing lightly. Silver-gray hair fell to the ground,
providing both cover and warmth. Her shrewd amber eyes still held an avian
cast, and she looked more raptor than human as she regarded him.
“Mind if I join
you?” She quirked a brow.
He met her gaze,
not fooled by her words. She was one of the first shifters and always had a
motive. “Ye’re not asking a question. Not really,” he countered. “State what’s
on your mind.”
The prickly jab
of magic pierced him as she surrounded them with warding. Along with it came
the odor of clay baked under a sun far hotter than it ever got in Germany—or
the British Isles. Rosemary and fresh cut hay joined the clay scent, the
combination the scent of many of her castings. Whatever she had to say, she
apparently wasn’t interested in being overheard.
worried to pay us much heed,” he said, keeping his tone neutral. The vulture
shifter could be touchy and had a short fuse.
She shot a
pointed look his way. “Do you want them to listen in when I inquire whether now
is the time to reveal what you are?” Without waiting for him to respond, she
went on, “Laying that aside for a moment, we must firm up the details of how we
shall tackle the border. The shifters will take their animal forms. Crossing
the border unnoticed should go smoothly for them—”
vampire notices,” he cut in.
vampire notices and chooses to act on the knowledge,” she corrected him.
“Shifters are immune to vampire mind control. They’ve pretty much left us alone
because of that, preferring to focus on more tractable prey.”
Meara clearly had a plan of her own for spiriting them across the border into
the Netherlands. One she was about to share. Perhaps it was less risky than
“Ye’re far from done.
If I interrupt every few seconds, ye’ll never finish.”
The corners of
her mouth twitched, but didn’t quite form a smile. “True enough. All right
then. By my count, eight of us are stuck in human bodies. Seven if we take you
out of the equation, but bear with me.”
He made come
along motions with one hand, ignoring her gambit about taking himself out of
the equation. She sensed he was different, much as Jamal had, but he’d been
evasive in the face of her earlier probing. Was she hunting for information?
“What is your
not expecting the question. He shook his head. “’Tisn’t important. I havena
used it for centuries, and no one remembers who I was.”
drawing her gray eyebrows into a single line. “Surely your gods would. Shifters
don’t have such things, but the Celts had them in droves.”
enough. If any recall who I was, none have chosen to speak with me for a verra
He cut the flow
of his words. Part of his plan hinged on those same gods, who’d discounted him
for hundreds of years, still being tethered to Earth and capable of responding
to a summons for aid. It was one of the biggest unknowns in his strategy, and
one he hadn’t spent much time worrying about. They had to get to Scotland
first—a place that would strengthen his magic sufficiently the gods might take
notice of him once again.
The way things
were going, Scotland was far from a given.
About the Author:
Ann Gimpel is a mountaineer at heart. Recently retired from a long career as a psychologist, she remembers many hours at her desk where her body may have been stuck inside four walls, but her soul was planning yet one more trip to the backcountry. Around the turn of the last century (that would be 2000, not 1900!), she managed to finagle moving to the Eastern Sierra, a mecca for those in love with the mountains. It was during long backcountry treks that Ann’s writing evolved. Unlike some who see the backcountry as an excuse to drag friends and relatives along, Ann prefers solitude. Stories always ran around in her head on those journeys, sometimes as a hedge against abject terror when challenging conditions made her fear for her life, sometimes for company. Eventually, she returned from a trip and sat down at the computer. Three months later, a five hundred page novel emerged. Oh, it wasn’t very good, but it was a beginning. And, she learned a lot between writing that novel and its sequel.
Around that time, a friend of hers suggested she try her hand at short stories. It didn’t take long before that first story found its way into print and they’ve been accepted pretty regularly since then. One of Ann’s passions has always been ecology, so her tales often have a green twist.
In addition to writing, Ann enjoys wilderness photography. She lugs pounds of camera equipment in her backpack to distant locales every year. A standing joke is that over ten percent of her pack weight is camera gear which means someone else has to carry the food! That someone is her husband. They’ve shared a life together for a very long time. Children, grandchildren and three wolf hybrids round out their family.
Tagline: A detour down memory lane wakes up the ghosts.
Curtis Aisling has literally dodged a bullet. At least he thinks he has. But he wonders whether that bullet still has it out for him when he leaves his ex-fiancé and Los Angeles behind for Coronado, New Mexico to borrow some much-needed money from his sister.
The small dilapidated desert town of Coronado has exactly one mansion, belonging to 92-year-old Veronica Meeks. Curtis’s sister, Dia, and her partner, Araceli, are Veronica’s live-in caretakers and while they are delighted to have a visitor, Veronica doesn’t even know he’s there.
In the final stages of what the locals call “the reminisce,” she is no longer aware of her surroundings. But when Curtis starts seeing things that no one else does, he’s not convinced that the old, unresponsive woman is as disconnected as everyone thinks. At times what should be empty rooms within the huge house appear filled with furniture, and music emanates from a dusty radio that has been packed away for ages. Tales of Veronica’s associations and connections with the occult lead Curtis to believe she is causing the ghostly occurrences.
But when people begin to appear in those phantom rooms—people from her past including Veronica herself—he’s no longer certain it is her doing. Each vision pulls Curtis further and further back, each one detailing a consequential moment in Veronica’s long life, until he begins to fear he could become lost in her past. And then there’s that bullet…
question I’ve been asked is: What about this book makes it special? That’s a
loaded question for sure. My first instinct is to say, “Because all my books
are special.” But I don’t think that’s the sort of answer that provides you any
insight into the book (although it does give a glimpse of my penchant for
smartass-ery). The actual answer is that, although on the surface “The
Reminisce” is a tale about a man in his thirties being drawn into the memories
of a woman in her nineties, it is also a story of a brother and a sister and
the love that they share.
Aisling is not what you’d call driven. In fact, he has a knack for skating
through life, even though he doesn’t think of it that way. Conversely, his
older sister Dia Castillo (they have different fathers) has always been
determined and has never relied on anyone but herself to get through the twists
and turns of life. Up until the events that take place in the book both outlooks
have served the siblings fairly well. For Curtis, however, luck comes to an
abrupt end when his fiancée calls off the engagement and kicks him out of the
house. That’s how he finds himself back in his home state of New Mexico,
visiting his sister and her girlfriend, who are the caretakers for the richest
lady in town. His arrival also alters the daily life that Dia has carefully
a sibling—half-, step-, or whole—is an exercise juggling the feelings of love,
hate, jealousy, exasperation, admiration, and that familial bond, that shared
experience that only people who have grown up in the same household can have.
And of course there is the placement within the family. The younger sibling
always seems to get away with things the older sibling never could. That’s how
it is for Curtis and Dia. They grew up in a home run by a (most of the time)
single mother and are a few years apart. Dia, as the elder child, has an
entirely different perspective than her baby brother on what growing up
together meant. She likes to think that she has a clearer view of Curtis than
he seems to have of himself, while Curtis believes that her vision is tinged by
the past that he had no control over. They are both absolutely wrong and
absolutely right, leaving them to face who they were then, who they are now,
and how it makes them different but not separate. Or, as their mother might
say, “All my children are special.”
Dia returned her
attention to the old woman and took her bony, veiny hand. “Veronica, honey,
this is my brother Curtis. You’ve seen his picture in our bedroom, remember? He
came for a visit.” She looked up at Curtis. “Veronica was quite smitten with
you the first time she saw your picture. Couldn’t take her eyes off it and she
would just smile and smile.”
next to his sister. Greeting the old woman seemed pointless, since it was
obvious by her vacant stare that she wasn’t aware of her surroundings. But his
sister was right; introducing himself was the proper way to behave regardless
of her condition. “Hello, Miss Meeks. I’m Curtis Aisling.”
The old woman’s
wispy gray hair was short and pulled back by small butterfly barrettes. Her
thin face was pinkish-white, wrinkled, and haloed with brown age spots. The
eyes that seemed to be looking at something no one else could see were a cloudy
gray-blue. Her small frame was covered in a clean pink nightgown and she wore
“How old is
she?” Curtis asked.
Dia stood up to
help Araceli gather the tray with Veronica’s barely touched lunch on it.
crouched before her, Curtis continued to look at the old woman. He found it
difficult to imagine that the slack face in front of him had once been young,
but he searched for signs of it anyhow. If there was life in her dull gaze,
Curtis was sure he would find it there. A strong hot breeze rattling the palm
fronds behind the gazebo hit him in the back. That’s when Veronica blinked and
looked right at him.
About the Author:
H.L. Cherryholmes, author of The Lizard Queen Series, The Reminisce, Come Back for Me, and A Slight Touch was born and raised in Albuquerque, New Mexico but has spent most of his adult life in California. He has a BFA from University of New Mexico and a Master's degree in Playwriting from the University of California, Los Angeles. Currently, he lives in SoCal with his husband, Ron Cogan.
SKY TITANS Deities,
Contemporary Fantasy/Apocalyptic Romance Word Count: 34.8K $2.99 e
It's time for the earth to be cleansed.
Released after eons of being imprisoned and tortured, Aeron and his three
brothers are ordered by the remaining old gods to bring the Apocalypse
upon the world. Humanity has failed them too many times, and the
Reckoning is overdue.
As the deity of the air and sky, it's
Aeron's duty to bring about massive storms to wipe out civilization.
Tornadoes, hurricanes, lightning - all are at his bidding, and Aeron
is more than willing to do whatever he is requested to do. He will
mete out the worst he can conjure, as long as it means he'll no
longer be bound within the hot, dark confines deep within the
bowels of the Earth.
Ceris Shahan is terrified of flying. But
when the president of the company demands she be at the summit
conference clear across the continent the next day, she has no
choice but to take the next plane out. If her phobia wasn't
debilitating enough, they run into turbulence that doesn't end.
Tossed about, bruised and injured amid the ugly black clouds that
continue to engulf them, she and the other passengers soon realize
they will not survive.
When Ceris spots a figure outside the
window, a man who appears to be standing amid the thunderheads and
is surrounded by an aura of light, she starts to doubt her own
sanity. Yet, when the man turns to find her staring at him, the look
of stunned disbelief on his face is undeniable.
be able to see him, but she can. Realizing what this could mean,
Aeron decides to risk everything, even his freedom, to rescue and
protect the woman from the annihilation of all mankind.
Warning! Contains scenes of mass destruction, two apples, the plane
ride from hell, stainless steel, extreme arrogance, an odd utility
tool, and two people hoping for a future, any kind of future, as
long as they can share it together.
Tagline: A young woman goes to Las Vegas to join a magic show only to learn that falling in love is more dangerous than magic.
Zade Holder has always been a free-spirited young woman, from a long dynasty of tarot-card readers, fortunetellers, and practitioners of magick. Growing up in a small town and never quite fitting in, Zade is determined to forge her own path. She leaves her home in Tennessee to break free from her overprotective mother Dela, the local resident spellcaster and fortuneteller.
Zade travels to Las Vegas and uses supernatural powers to become part of a premiere magic show led by the infamous magician Charles Spellman. Zade fits right in with his troupe of artists and misfits. After all, when everyone is slightly eccentric, appearing ''normal'' is much less important.
Behind the scenes of this multimillion-dollar production, Zade finds herself caught in a love triangle with Mac, the show's good-looking but rough-around-the-edges technical director and Jackson, the tall, dark, handsome and charming bandleader.
Zade's secrets and the struggle to choose between Mac or Jackson creates reckless tension during the grand finale of the show. Using Chaos magick, which is known for being unpredictable, she tests her abilities as a spellcaster farther than she's ever tried and finds herselfat death's door. Her fate is left in the hands of a mortal who does not believe in a world of real magick, a fortuneteller who knew one day Zade would put herself in danger and a dagger with mystical powers...
Handbook for Mortals is the first book in the series of this urban fantasy, paranormal romance series by author Lani Sarem.
Following Zade through the trials--and romance--of finding her own place in the world, readers will identify with their own struggles to fit in, reflected in the fantastic, yet mundane world of Zade's life.
Handbook for Mortals is in development as a motion picture set to debut in 2018.
wasn’t interrupting something important,” Mac said, with no attempt at feigning
actual sincerity. I could tell he didn’t care that he had interrupted, or that
he had been rude.
I responded. I don’t think he expected my answer to be truthful, and he looked
taken aback. He had probably expected me to say “Oh, no worries! Nothing
important.” He made no comment, but backed off a little. When he continued
talking, he had a bit less snap in his voice.
“I’d like to
schedule a crew call for you once your contract has been signed. You, me, and
all of our techs, so we can go over your trick and map out how it will be
safely implemented into the show.” He knew that calling what I had done a
“trick” instead of an illusion I would take as a slight. It’s sort of like
telling someone who had just won an Olympic gold medal and was proudly wearing
it around their neck, that their necklace was cute. Mac kept incessantly
tapping his Sharpie on the side of his clipboard and shifting his weight
between his feet.
I stood up
slowly and calculated, looking him square in the eye, which probably surprised
him a bit, since he was at least six feet tall. I’ve always enjoyed the luxury
of being a tall girl. I’m five foot nine inches and so while I don’t usually
tower above any guys I know, I can definitely look them directly in the eye.
Most girls who at five feet five inches (which, I believe, is an average height
for a woman) have to look up. My height was an advantage that I never took for
granted and here, again, I was happy that I didn’t have to look up to
him—figuratively or literally. In heels I could even be as tall or taller than
him and I’ve always loved that part about being the height I am. I half smiled
and slowly spoke, “Maybe you misunderstood. I don’t show anyone how it’s done.
That wasn’t just for the audition. I handle this illusion on my own.”
Mac held still
for a moment, and then glanced up from his clipboard, looking irritated. He
pursed his lips and flared his nostrils. The tapping stopped. He dropped the
clipboard from his stomach and held it in his hand while pointing his finger
directly in my face. “Listen, lady, I don’t know who else you worked for, but
we don’t do that Lone Ranger stuff around here. I’m the technical director and
in charge of everyone’s safety, no matter how stupid you want to be. You do
what I say, and I keep your pretty self from getting hurt. Got it?” I’m fairly
certain he growled at me as he spoke.
ran through my head and I’m pretty sure several seconds passed in silence as we
stared each other down. I could feel my hands tightening into fists. I really
did want to punch him. I could see it happening. I’m not strong by any means
but I’m also not a wimp. I wouldn’t have broken anything, but he would have
been bruised and sore. I quickly ran through the possible outcomes of punching
the technical director on my first day of work. It didn’t really seem to be the
I leaned into
him so closely that it might have looked like to an outsider that I was about
to kiss him. I huffed a little and my words were slow and deliberate. “I
understand this is your job and all, but I don’t think you’re listening to me,”
I hissed. I tapped his chest with my finger and he jolted a bit at my touch. He
looked at me like I was speaking some kind of foreign language.
listening? Lady, you need your ears cleaned,” he snarled back. He turned around
to walk away, as if that was the end of our conversation. If he was trying to
piss me off more, it was working.
I grabbed him by
the shoulder, stopping him in his tracks and swinging him around to face me. My
face had flushed and I’d raised my voice to a full yell. “And you need to get
some manners. I’m not showing you how it’s done, okay? If we have a problem I
can go to another show where the technical director doesn’t have a God complex.
I’m not a girl who needs a knight in shining armor.” I was practically snarling
Mac gritted his
teeth and looked like he might hit me, but I knew that wasn’t really an option
for him. Guys like him didn’t hit women, no matter how mad we made them. He
laughed loudly. “Ha! Good luck finding a Technical Director who will treat you
like the princess you clearly think you are. If I found you locked in a tower,
I promise I’d leave you there.” Mac whipped around again and this time saw
Riley, who had been standing just a few feet away from us the whole time. Riley
was pretending not to be paying too much attention, but you could tell that was
all he had been doing. I couldn’t blame him. Mac glowered at Riley and barked,
“Where’s C.S.? Riley, go find Charles. Now!”
“On the move,”
Riley replied with a nervous, almost panicked look on his face as he ran off to
the side and disappeared.
About the Author
Lani Sarem always wanted to work in the entertainment industry. She began acting at age 3 and continued to act and perform through her early years. Lani started writing scripts when she was 11 and over the years has done everything from writing, acting, band managing and helping start and work festivals. She's managed bands like the Plain White T's and Blues Traveler and toured with everyone from Ryan Adams to Gnarls Barkley. Lani has appeared in films like Mall Cop 2 and Jason Bourne. Make sure to catch her in her latest film Trailer Park Shark on the Syfy channel this July as Roxy.