#Excerpt Week Finding Hunter CH 8

Final FH Cover Smaller

A shorter one this time…a scene from CH 8, from Hunter’s POV, and giving you a bit more insight into who Hunter Painter really is. Another of his secrets, exposed. 🙂 Poor Hunter. He’s so befuddled.

******

I duck, climbing in, nod my thanks, but don’t speak.
He talks enough for both of us. My head hurts.
I yell at him, see his shocked face.
He stops, pushes me out, drives away fast.
Walking again.
~ Traveling Man ~

~~~
Chapter 8

You Write
~~~

Saturday, January 19, 2013

 HUNTER WATCHED WILLOW stroll through her herb garden, basket over her arm, and small, sharp scissors in hand. The weather had been mild this winter, and there were plenty of hardy herbs still green and fragrant. She gathered bunches to hang in the kitchen, and the snip-snip sound followed her as she moved along each row.

Sitting at a white wrought iron table in the shade of a young laurel oak, legs stretched out in front of him, Hunter’s sharp eyes missed very little. Admiring Willow’s graceful movements had been a pastime of his since the first day she came into his life, an activity as familiar as breathing in those days. Today, it brought a perspective that was new—and completely unanticipated.

Today, she was his, as he was hers. Today, his heart was at peace, even if only temporarily, and the constant, unfulfilled longing from years ago was gone. She loved him, which made everything different, and he refused to let anything steal this moment from him.

His gaze lingered on the silky blue fabric of her skirt, blowing around her slim legs, and the pale gleam of her unbound hair, cascading down her back. Words tumbled through his mind, and that familiar need to commit them to paper took over.

With his small, spiral notebook and pen in hand, Hunter wrote, spilling his thoughts onto each narrow blue line, still as in love with the process as he had been as a young child. Then, as now, random marks turned into letters in front of his eyes, and letters into words. Words became sentences, then thought, then pure emotion. His pen flew across the paper, capturing every image and feeling, so he could revisit them later, at will.

Hunter Painter loved to write. It helped convince him he wasn’t simply taking up space on this planet, and it was as much a part of him as his gray eyes and brown hair. When he was lost in the process, the rest of the world disappeared, which is why he didn’t realize Willow had finished her herb gathering, and stood behind him, reading over his shoulder. Oblivious, he scribbled on, trying to capture each word before it got away.

When she laid her palm on his shoulder, he shot straight up, pen flying from his hand, and spiral notebook dropping to the ground. “Geeze, Willow! Didn’t know you were there!”

He scrambled around, retrieving pen and notebook, hoping she hadn’t had a chance to see what he was doing, but one glance at her expression told him he’d been caught. Running wouldn’t help. He’d tried that. She would follow.

Willow took a seat at the tiny table, the basket of herbs by her feet. “You write.” Amazement was in her voice and shone from her eyes. “Poems.”

Cheeks burning, he eased back into his chair, uncertain how to respond. “Yeah … I guess I do.”

“You guess? You write, Hunter. Why are you so embarrassed? What I read was wonderful.”

He stammered, face flushing redder. “I never … show anyone. It’s just … something I do.”

“For how long?”

“Always. Long’s I can remember.”

“You’ve been writing as long as you can remember, and no one knows about it? No one has read any of it?”

Hunter sank lower in his chair, groaning inside. She wasn’t going to let this go. “No. Never.”

“Why on earth not?”

He shrugged, face still hot. “Never showed it to anybody.”

Brow slightly furrowed, she uttered a noncommittal sound. “Hmm.”

“What’s ‘hmm’ mean?”

She rose, picked up her basket, and beckoned to him. “Let’s go inside. I’ll fix us some lunch.”

Left alone, he had little choice but to follow her, muttering under his breath the entire way. “Done it again. Never showed anybody a word I’ve written for thirty years, and somehow, after only a few weeks, Willow knows all about it. How does this keep happening?”

Love, Lies and Murder – Evelyn Cullet

Here is the Prologue to, Love, Lies and Murder, the second novel in my Charlotte Ross mystery Series.

Love, Lies and Murder is the sequel to Romancing a Mystery

Charlotte Ross sees her world about to crumble when the man she loves announces his engagement to someone else.

Charlotte’s best friend, dubious globe-trotter and mystery author, Jane Marshall, arrives back in town only to stumble across the gruesome body of the town’ millionaire industrialist.

To ease her heartbreak, Charlotte joins forces with her friend to find the old man’s killer. In the process, the two self-appointed sleuths turn their small town upside down.

Charlotte is endearingly impractical as her impulsive choices lead her into and out of peril, with only the wry and often-misguided advice of the capricious Jane to guide her.

Eldridge Corners is rich with quirky, small town personalities who both aid and thwart the young women’s quest, as they discover that people are not always who they seem-and a single error in judgment can prove fatal.

  Prologue

Threading her petite fingers through his strong ones, Charlotte Ross couldn’t believe her good fortune. Here she was, on a plane taxiing to the runway. Everything was perfect: the wealth to which she’d become accustomed, the large house she’d soon call home, and the handsome man beside her.

She traced her thumb over the back of his hand, ruffling the down of hair that began at his wrist and worked its way up his finely sculpted arm. She lost herself in his brown eyes before they crinkled with laughter. Blushing, Charlotte knew she had been caught staring at her new husband. The man of her dreams had shared the perfect day when they had exchanged vows earlier. Now she yearned for their honeymoon. The Italian Riviera would be as amazing as her husband.

 Life couldn’t get any better. She sighed in contentment. A loud rumble filled the air, and a sense of impending doom clenched her heart. The plane jolted. Charlotte gasped. “No,” she murmured. “No.” A second rumble wrenched her from the seat. Her hold on her husband’s hand slipped–

Charlotte jerked awake. Her heart climbed to her throat as another rumble split the silence of the dark room. Thunder from a summer storm had turned her beautiful dream into a nightmare.

Lying still, Charlotte waited until her heartbeat slowed before she opened her eyes. She turned over in bed and glanced at the man beside her. His muscular form was sprawled across the bedding in peaceful bliss. An occasional flash of lightning flickered through the room and caressed his handsome features, long eyelashes casting shadows on his cheekbones. Flashes of light played in the shades of his chestnut hair.

Charlotte stretched lazily beside him, her gaze followed the contours of his slumbering form. The night before had been… magical. It was as though he knew what a woman – what she – wanted and needed, and he selflessly gave in to all her desires. Could there ever be another man as sensitive or as passionate? The blinking light on the nightstand tore her gaze from her lover’s body.

“Five-thirty!”

She gently nudged the man with her elbow. “You’d better get up. It’s nearly dawn.”

“Five minutes, sweetheart,” he mumbled, his voice as rich and smooth as honey, before he rolled over and slipped his arm around her waist.

It would be easy to snuggle up to his warm body and go back to sleep, but Charlotte bit down the impulse and nudged him again. “You’d better get up now or you’ll be late. You have to go home and change for work.”

He cuddled closer as his lips touched her ear. “I don’t want to go to work,” he whispered, “I’d rather stay here in bed with you.”

“It’s very tempting, and I’d love for you to stay,” she teased, “But…”

“Please, Charlotte, just a few more minutes.”

She pressed a finger to his soft lips. “If you don’t leave now, you won’t have enough time. Don’t forget you still have to pack for your business trip this afternoon.”

“Why do you always have to be so practical?” he moaned.

“Because it’s part of my job as your administrative assistant.” Now it was her turn to tempt him. “But if you hurry and come to work early, I’ll bring something special and we can enjoy a leisurely breakfast,” she purred as her fingers played across his chest. “In your private office.”

“It’s a date,” he whispered, kissing her shoulder before he climbed out of bed.

As he picked up his clothes and began to dress, Charlotte stared at the muscles on his sex-foot-two, athletic physique. He gazed back at her and his lips curved into a smile that revealed a hint of a dimple in his left cheek, and the most beautiful, straight, white teeth she’d ever seen.

After he slipped on his shoes, he bent down, his eyes darkening in passion, and placed a kiss on her lips. It seared through her body and he shifted slightly, deepening the kiss until she clung to the collar of his shirt and ached for him to join her in bed.

Their lips parted on his chuckle and he winked at her before heading out the door. Charlotte moved to the side of the bed where John Trent, her boss and the man in her dreams, had spent the night. She pressed the side of her face into his still warm pillow and inhaled the intoxicating, musky scent of him. Slowly letting her breath out, she glanced at the bedside table where a crystal vase sat, filled to overflowing with the red roses he’d given her the previous night at dinner – one of his many thoughtful and romantic gestures. Rolling over in bed, she sighed, “He loves me.”

Love Lies and Murder - WEB

Love, Lies and MurderAmazonhttp://tinyurl.com/9jjl5xc(print)

ebook (http://tinyurl.com/q4zo532)

B& N: http://tinyurl.com/pn6a36p

Alpha Ascendant excerpt

Wolf RampantI’m thrilled to have completed my first trilogy, so I thought I’d share the beginning of the last book in the series. Alpha Ascendant isn’t meant to be read as a standalone, but you can probably figure out what’s going on….

***

Charred remnants of the pack’s former compound stood like ominous sentinels in the springtime dusk. Beneath my feet, a thick layer of ash muffled my footsteps but the sound of voices drew me deeper into the burnt-out timbers.

“No, dude, I’m pretty sure she went that way.”

Blaze, the most youthful yahoo, sounded just as jittery as I felt. Our young-adult pack members had headed over the mountain an hour earlier in search of the fire-proof lockbox Wolfie hoped might have survived last winter’s flames. And, against my better judgment, I’d allowed Ember to tag along. After all, it was next to impossible to deny the precocious wolf pup anything.

Now I regretted my lax parenting. Because it sounded very much like Ember had been mislaid.

“Do you think she might have fallen down a hole somewhere?” Keith asked, focusing my own worries on images too horrific for words. Our beloved wolfling impaled on a shattered floor joist, unconscious from blood loss. Or perhaps she’d hit her head while plummeting to the ground, so her brain was now swelling dangerously within her tender skull. I shivered…and heard a similar sentiment expressed in my fifteen-year-old nephew’s voice.

I couldn’t spare much sympathy for the teenager, though. Not when a tiny wolf pup was unaccounted for within a conglomeration of burnt-out trailers that might as well have been a mine field.

Alpha AscendantIn human years, Ember would be around nine years old, just about ready for fourth grade. Definitely not ready to be set loose unattended in an area where one false step would see you falling through the floor or bringing down the walls around your ears.

I’d been slowly pacing forward as I listened, so I was close enough now to make out the forms of each yahoo as I stepped up behind them. In addition to Keith and Blaze, the slightly older Glen and the new-recruit David were both present. Fen was too female to be a true yahoo, but she’d stepped into the role of older-and-wiser guide after the yahoos’ previous ringleader had died in battle the winter before. Continue reading

#Excerpt week – DESPRITE MEASURES (a Caledonian Sprite novel) by Deborah Jay #UrbanFantasy

Caledonian sprite, Cassie, attends a coven meeting with her friend and aspirant witch, Alison. The guest speaker for the evening is a water diviner – a human talent Cassie has spent millennia avoiding…

DespriteMeasures

The coven, fifteen in number tonight including the two of us, was gathered in a semi-circle on the lawn around Brian Chivers, who was brandishing a split hazel rod rather in the vein of a blind man’s cane. We arrived in time to hear the end of his explanation, and positioned ourselves behind the others. It was as far from Brian as we could arrange without looking suspicious.

“… you can dowse with almost anything, the most popular these days being plastic rods because they’re light and long-lasting, but I prefer to use a natural material, and hazel has a particular affinity for water.”

Staying behind Alison, I peeked over her shoulder as the diviner raised his rod to show it off better.

“I cut this one a couple of days ago. See,” he ran his finger down one side, “how I’ve split it. A very delicate procedure on a branch as fine as this. And then,” he pointed towards the end, which was bound with white tape, “I’ve taped the end to keep the split from extending. It won’t last forever, but this will prolong it until the wood dries out completely, at which point it will need replacing.”

Continue reading

Once Upon a Crime

Here is an excerpt from my latest romantic suspense novel,  Once Upon a Crime:

The sound of the van pulling up to the front of the cottage made Charlotte’s heart skip a beat. Striker grabbed her arm, pulled her off the sofa and walked her toward the front door. He opened it wide, and put his face next to hers. “When we get outside, don’t try anything funny.”

He pulled the handle on the back door of the van, and swung it open. “Get in.”

She stood straight and stiff, her chin lifting in her most defiant stance as she braced her feet in the snow.

His hard eyes stared her down. “I said, get in!”

When she didn’t move, he lunged at her. She dodged to the side and delivered a sharp kick to his knee. He’s not getting me in that van.

He grunted and stumbled back. She spun around and made a mad dash toward the lake, but her short legs struggled in the deep snow. Striker’s long strides caught up with her after a few moments. He grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off the ground.

“All right.” He grunted under her weight. “If you wanna do things the hard way…”

She twisted and squirmed and kicked at him with every ounce of strength she had, but his grip was so unyielding as he walked back, that only a few of her blows made contact. He shoved her into the van. She managed to get in a strong kick to his hand before he slammed the door, leaving her breathless in the dark.

Once Upon A Crime - WEB

Once Upon a Crime is available at the following:

Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/l41hxxb

B&N: http://tinyurl.com/lcpl5d9

Wings ePress – http://www.wings-press.com/

Check out my website and blog: http://evelyncullet.com/

Like me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/EvculletsAuthorPage

Twitter- leave a tweet at: https://twitter.com/EvelynCullet

Follow my Pinterest boards and I’ll follow yours: http://www.pinterest.com/ecullet/

Thanks for the opportunity to leave an excerpt on your blog, Marcia.

Evelyn Cullet

Which Negative Review Would You Prefer to Receive on Amazon?

When we put ourselves out there as writers, it is inevitable that we will get some negative feedback along with the positive.  Some of our critics will not find our material to their tastes. Knowing that we can’t be all things to all people, let me ask…

How to tell a story in 30 seconds

When making commercials for the Super Bowl, you have less than 30 seconds to tell a story that needs to be compelling to millions. In my interview with director Kevin Willson I learn the challenges of crafting a 30 second story for the big game.

www.authorjasonlink.com

Nick and the BBC

Follow Nick’s amazing and heartwarming story! And please share everywhere you can. This remarkable young man deserves all the support he can get.

Sue Vincent's avatarSue Vincent's Daily Echo

BBC 063

“You’ll have to be here by seven…” It was just as well that I was too, as Nick was still fast asleep and he didn’t have long. The phone rang half an hour later and Nick was live on air for a short interview with Julian Clegg of BBC Radio Solent. The interview is available online via the station’s podcast by clicking here. (Skip to 1:13:45 for Nick’s interview.)

Not bad before breakfast…but there was more.

It seems Nick’s determination to ride in the Para-Tri event and raise awareness and funds for brain injury, has stirred up a bit of attention.

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At 10.30 BBC News reporter, Ben Moore, arrived with cameraman Trevor Adamson. Three hours, three locations and a huge amount of editing to produce a two minute feature airing on BBC One’s South Today at 18.30 GMT. A Yorkshireman himself, Ben stands six feet five in his…

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Home Again, and All’s Well!

Surgery went great, and I’m home, comfy, and wide awake. That will no doubt change when the “block” on my foot wears off, and I have to take a pain pill. But for now, all’s well, and I’m testing out my Comfy Chair Office. Hope you are all having a great day. I’ll check in again later.

Carry on, Folks! 🙂

Bloggers… do you know what you are?

A message from one of our own. Please read her son’s story, and share this wherever you can.

Sue Vincent's avatarSue Vincent's Daily Echo

Dear bloggers,

I woke up this morning to find comments, reblogs, innumerable Tweets , retweets and shares of all kinds from my post about Nick’s participation in the triathlon and his Indiegogo campaign for the acquired brain injury charity he is supporting. It has continued all day.

I cannot tell you how valuable that support can be. It isn’t just about raising funds, but about raising awareness. It is also, for me at least, about Nick himself and showing him that after the last few years, just by making it to the start line of the race, he is already a winner.

In the twenty four hours since Nick launched his campaign, £500 has already been donated… and here’s the thing that had me in tears with my coffee… YOU have done this. YOU, the blogging community.

I look at the list of donations and the vast majority of them…

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