Fearless Read-Along: Chapter Twenty-Two

 

This chapter!

I have a confession, and I feel like I'll catch hell for it, but, you know what? I catch hell all the time, so I'll just talk about it. 

I don't write off an outline. I've never been able to. That was hard in college; it meant I had to write papers really fast, and then had to write outlines retroactively for weekly grades. 

That said: I always have a scene in every project that I'm waiting for. There's always a scene or two that I'm working toward.

This chapter is one of those scenes. 

Ava having to call Mercy off was a scene that I knew would happen, and happen in a violent way, and it remains one of my favorite in the whole series.

It's one of the biggest scenes in the book, and I kind of want to see the reader reaction before I share all my thoughts. 

Sunday Funday Updates 8/24

 

August Sunset

How is it the last week of August?? I will say, though, that it's been the loveliest August in recent memory. This month is usually plagued by super high temperatures and a total lack of rain; brown, crunchy grass, irritable horses, irritable people. But this year, it's been largely overcast, not so hot, and we've had consistent rainfall. The grass is lush, the sunsets blazing, and it's overall been a manageable tail end of summer. 

I finally updated my decrepit and obsolete phone, so I've been much more active on Instagram (I went a whole week unable to post photos). There's lots going on, so I wanted to make sure I updated on the blog and Facebook as well for anyone who doesn't have Insta. 

New Read-Along Alert: Yesterday I started a White Wolf read-along. You can find the first post here. Like with Fearless, I'm going to read one chapter a week, and post on Saturdays. It'll be my first time doing a true deep dive on the book, and I'm excited to share my POV, and all the real-life history connections. 

All the books in the Sons of Rome series are just 99c apiece, so I'd love if you'd grab a copy and join us for the discussion. 😀

Why Authors Ask For Reviews: This week, I blogged about the reasons authors ask for reviews, and the role reviews play in general. You can read that post here if you're interested. 

Chapter Twenty-Two: Tomorrow, we'll cover Chapter Twenty-Two in our Fearless read-along. You can catch up with the Chapter Twenty-One post here. 

Golden Hour Girls 

I'm working on two novels at the moment, but the home/farm front is keeping me busy these days. 

Next Tuesday, the 2nd, I'm trailering my senior girl, AB, to a veterinary clinic that can perform a tooth extraction - if she needs one. 

AB enjoying her early mornings 

She's been struggling with some mysterious health issues since April. She seemed colicky then, though improved when placed on a half-dose of Banamine (an equine NSAID used primarily for gut pain) twice a day. My vet performed an exam - the kind that involves the shoulder-length plastic glove - and thought he cleared a slight impaction. She was still eating, drinking, and pooping, but went downhill every time I tried to back her off the Banamine. At the beginning of June, she presented with thick, whitish nasal discharge. Antibiotics cleared it up...but it returned once she was done with her meds. My vet feels like it *might* be a tooth abscess, or maybe a stubborn sinus infection.

In any event, he doesn't have the tools or facility to perform an extraction, or scope her if need be, and, in his words, he "doesn't do teeth." So we're off to a clinic to hopefully get some more definitive answers and a treatment plan to get her back to her slightly-senile self. Fingers crossed for a safe trip and a positive outcome. 

Sonata learning about saddle pads

Sonata with her new sisters 

I posted about it on Insta, but not the blog or FB, but given AB's struggles...I added a new horse to the herd. In the long run, you need at least three (or two plus minis, which is what I had for a long time) so that if you pull one horse out to work with or ride, the other has company. I wasn't shopping in a serious way, but I was already dreading the idea of losing AB and then having to shop. I came across an ad for a little liver chestnut filly who sounded like a perfect fit for my girls, and for me, and she was priced in my budget, so I decided to go see her. Better to get the *right* horse, even if it's a little early, than wait and miss a good opportunity. 

Sonata's been here a month, now. She's a ten-month-old Quarter Horse/Appaloosa cross, like Bambi, though they aren't related. She has freckles on her muzzle, around her eyes, and other places, but doesn't have obvious spots like Bambi. All three of my other girls love her, and she fits right in. I'm working on desensitizing her, getting her used to all sorts of stimuli, especially having her feet picked up and handled so she'll be a good girl for my poor farrier, who gave me this very blank look when he came like "why does this chick keep buying babies?" He's too polite to say it, though 😂

Bambi wondering why the heck she needs to wear this

I'm starting my older girls with the surcingle, getting them ready for a saddle and girth. So far, Bambi's my little eager-to-please quick study who thrives on praise. Kit Kat is pretty unimpressed with the whole concept. 

Needless to say, I've been spending a lot of time at the barn. Come follow me @hppress on Instagram to see real time updates. Have a wonderful rest of your Sunday! I'm hoping to have some fun announcements soon. 

White Wolf Read-Along: The Stalker

 

Our Fearless chapter-by-chapter read-along has been not only a lot of fun for me as an author, getting to revisit a 10 year old story with fresh eyes, and read the whole thing word for word for the first time since publishing it, but it's been a cool chance to share some never-before-talked-about behind the scenes motivations and anecdotes. I asked on Facebook and Instagram yesterday which book you'd like me to do a read-along with next, and consensus was split between Price of Angels, and White Wolf. I decided I'd save Price of Angels for after Fearless, so we can work our way through Dartmoor in order. In the meantime, I'm going to block off Saturdays for a White Wolf read-along. It'll be a great chance for me to get back into the paranormal groove as I start back working on the series, and also to do a deep dive in a way I never have before.

All four released-so-far books in the series are just 99c apiece, so if you haven't checked out the series yet, I hope you'll grab a copy of White Wolf and join us. If you've already read the series, I hope I can provide some new insight and inspiration, and highlight just how crazy real history is! 

Ready? We're going to start with the prelude, The Stalker. If you're a new reader, don't purchase the ebook version of The Stalker by itself; it's in the front of White Wolf. I released the prelude by itself in July of 2017, and White Wolf in October. I left the original release of The Stalker up because I selfishly didn't want to delete those reviews. Oops! Oh well. The whole series is an absolute steal, so it all works out.

Okay, that's the last of the housekeeping. Ready for real? Let's dive in.

Anyone who's been here since 2017 will know that the Sons of Rome series is my pet project. I first started playing around with it when I was still in high school. Val and Mia were the first characters. The spark, if you will. Back then, if you'd told me that one day most of my books would be about outlaw bikers, I would have said, "About what now?" Because I was bewitched by the story of an apparitional prince visiting a sick girl. 

Over the years, the overall shape and tone of the series changed quite a bit. I added new characters, new creatures, new backstories and historical references. It continued to expand...and expand, and expand. In college, I realized I was setting myself up to write an epic series. Not epic in a way that meant cool, or badass, or like, so totally epic, bro. But epic in the very literal sense of the word. In my mind, it had become a behemoth, spanning centuries, and though I attempted to begin it many times, I was overwhelmed every time. 

In 2012, after I released my first book, Keep You, I tried to get it off the ground more seriously, starting with Fulk and Anna's backstory. But even that proved unsuccessful. I was missing a link somewhere. I had all these characters, and all these important points in history, but I hadn't found the perfect beginning. 

Turns out I just needed Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes to show up in eyeliner with a red star on his arm to send me down the Eastern Front WWII rabbit hole, and then, finally, Vlad the Impaler, and King Richard, and Alexei Romanov had found their uniting force. I had my beginning, at last, and it was a train bound for Siberia. 

But we'll get to all that. 

For now, it's about the prelude. 

Keeping things tidy, streamlined, and linear was never my goal with this series. It's a tale that I must tell the right way, and that calls for an epic fantasy storytelling approach. When I first started talking about White Wolf in early 2017, I had lots of emails and comments that told me readers were expecting something along the lines of the Black Dagger Brotherhood. Or maybe True Blood. There are vampires, and there are wolves, and there is sex and magic, but in terms of formatting, the series is best enjoyed if you think of it along the lines of Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson. Intricate, layered, ongoing slow burn books building toward a mighty crescendo. For all the creature feature madness, they are very human stories, about romantic love, and brotherhood, and grief, and joy, and finding a place of one's own. 

In this sense, it was important for me to open book one with The Stalker. We won't see Fulk, and Anna, and Vlad again for a while, but like the prologue in The Fellowship of the Ring, it's telling you, "This is what's at stake. This is where we're headed. This is important, even if you don't know how important just yet."

He'd brought the night in on his skin, the deeper musk of fur, and blood, and want. 

We open on a Walgreens. Nighttime. A young woman stalked through the aisles, and then fleeing, her stalker hot on her heels. I mentioned Fellowship, for the heft of a well-placed prologue, but this one is very different stylistically. Instead of a sweeping pitched battle, I opened on droning tube lights and a nail polish display. A tryst in the dirty strip of woods beyond a Waffle House parking lot in Georgia. Because as much as I love fantasy, and as fantasy-driven as the pacing of this series is, I'm first and foremost a horror reader, and all the best horror stories start very small. 

"Hush and blow out your candles." She slid the cake plate across the table toward him.

The candles were blue, and number-shaped. A seven, a five, and a zero.

She said, "Happy seven-hundred-and-fifty, handsome."

He smiled, despite himself, and blew them out in a single breath.

I love Fulk and Anna. I love how much they love one another. Admittedly, this prelude is pretty vague on the broader details of who they are, what century they're from, and why Fulk owns a castle-esque manor house in Virginia. In 2012-2013, I thought I would start the whole series with their backstory. Later, I decided I would go back to it once we were deeper in the series. Now, I'm not sure if it fits with the overarching action of the plot, and might need to be a side story or tie-in/prequel novel instead. 

There really was a Baron Strange of Blackmere in England, back in the day, and his name really was Fulk le Strange. If he was a werewolf, and not a man, he would, in fact, be 758 years old today. Anna is much younger; she was nineteen and human when they first met during the American Civil War, and Fulk is lowkey infamous amongst the immortal community for having turned her without the help of a mage. He's a badass. He's also been in his emo phase for several centuries, and doesn't look to be outgrowing it anytime soon. 

He and Anna have been living quietly, moving every few years, keeping to rural Southern cities. In the prelude, I tease at their history, but keep it mysterious on purpose. The big reveal here is the fact that Vlad Tepes is a vampire, is alive, and is slumbering, appropriately, in a coffin. In the mythology of this series, once a vampire goes into a deep sleep (I can hear Nandor the Relentless saying "Super Slumber" in my mind), they can only be awakened by a werewolf's blood. Werewolves are vampire Familiars in my universe, providing them with blood, protection, and whatever loyal service is required of them. Fulk isn't Vlad's bound Familiar, but his blood will do the trick of waking him. 

In the prelude, we learn that the Ingraham Institute is experimenting with immortal blood and tissue, searching for medical miracles, and trying to put together a force that can fight the war they know is brewing between mortals and immortals. By their logic, Vlad will want to be on the side preserving the world, rather than burning it down or enslaving it. 

There are many vampires in this series, most of them original characters of my own, but a few key players the fictionalized versions of real figures from history. The strongest, the meanest, the smartest, and the overall most important to the series as a whole is Vlad. 

At the end of the prelude, his eyes open. 

I can't wait to continue his journey in the present day when I get back to Lionheart. 

Still here? Up next, we're going to Manhattan. And then we're going back to 1942, and meeting the man who makes this whole series work: Captain Nikita Baskin. 

Join me on Saturdays for a deep dive into each chapter of White Wolf. 

#ThrowbackThursday: Little Pauses

 

A few minutes later, glassware clinks down on the counter. He glances over expecting his mother’s disappointed face, and instead finds Tommy, folding back the sleeves of his sweater.

“What are you doing?” Lawson asks, stupidly.

“Move over. You cooked, I’ll wash.” He steps into Lawson’s space and hip checks him over. Plucks the sponge from his hand.

“You don’t have to,” Lawson says.

“Yes, I do.” Tommy plunges his hands into the soapy water. “You can dry if you want.”

Lawson pulls a clean towel out of the drawer, and Tommy thankfully doesn’t ask why they’re doing this by hand rather than loading the dishwasher. They do have an appointment with a repair guy, for next week in fact; they’ve replaced the motor in the thing twice, and they ought to spring for a new one. If Lawson says this, he’s sure there’ll be a Lowe’s delivery truck in the driveway tomorrow, so he takes the clean, dripping plates from Tommy and dries them.

They work silently at first, nothing but the low murmur of the TV from the next room and the slosh of the water in the sink the only sounds.

When Tommy starts in on the pasta pot, he says, so quiet Lawson leans closer to hear him, “I forgot.”

“Forgot what?”

The near corner of Tommy’s mouth hitches upward, and it’s a sad sort of smile he bestows upon the pot in his sudsy hands. “What it’s like being here with your folks. Your family is…”

“Hanging by a thread?” Lawson suggests. He at least feels that way, most days.

“Warm,” Tommy corrects. “They love you, and they love each other, and I always felt…” He trails off, and shrugs. “I always felt like I was wanted, when I was here.”

Oh. Oh, damn. “You were.”

I love the high-octane action stuff; the mysteries, the car chases, the showdowns. All of that. But my absolute favorite scenes to write are always the quiet domestic ones. A good action scene is all about choreography; it's okay to go a little crazy.

But the slow beats are where the heart of any story lies, and that's where you have the chance to make a story real for your readers. Knowing when to push forward, and when to pull back is a delicate balance in scenes like these; walking that line of saying just enough to get the meaning across without the characters word-vomiting. Life is full of so many little pauses, and the challenge of writing those in a believable way is my favorite aspect of the craft.

College Town, and its Tommy POV follow-up novella, A Cure for Recovery, are available for Kindle, paperback, Nook, and Kobo. 

#WorkshopWednesday: Why Authors Ask For Reviews

 

A phrase I've seen oft repeated across bookish social media is "reviews are for readers." They are! Usually, this phrase is used when readers feel that an author has overstepped his or her boundaries and replied directly to negative reviews of their books. But it's also a reflection of the fact that reviews are indeed written by readers for other readers, so they know what they're getting into before they purchase a book.

Why, then, do authors always ask readers to leave a review? Let's get into it. 

Sometimes, you come across a review in which it becomes obvious that the reviewer is addressing the author directly. Some readers think the point of a review is to educate the author on how to write a "better" book in the future. Some are gentler than others, but still issue suggestions or requests. 

I hate to be blunt, and I don't like to speak for all authors, but I think it's safe to generalize when I say that authors, myself included, do not look at reviews as inspiration, or reprimands. I do love to talk about my books with readers on social media, via Instagram posts, or blog posts like our Fearless Read-Along. Nothing makes my day like having a reader quote a favorite passage to me, or share personal stories with me about how a scene in one of my books reminded them of a loved one, or a special memory. That sort of thing is crack to an author. 

But reviews serve a different purpose. By the time an author publishes a book, it's been edited, and re-edited. It's been proofread. We've bugged our editors and loved ones about plot points and word choice until they're sick of us. What we put out (this is at least true for me) is what we mean to put out, for good or for ill, knowing that some readers will love it, and some will hate it. I reserve the right to respond to direct messages, emails, or comments on my blog or social media, but I don't ever respond to reviews left on review sites. Occasionally, I'll deal with someone who's a bad actor: a person who leaves a string of disparaging reviews and then reaches out offering to be my editor. They think all those poor reviews will convince me I need to hire them. It never works. I vague blog about them until they crawl back under the rock from whence they came, and move on. Long story short: reviews don't tell the author what to do/not do; they help other readers decide if they want to read a book. 

That's why authors ask for reviews. The more reviews a book has, the more attention it gets: both organic, and through the algorithm. Unfortunately, popularity still matters, even after you leave high school, and books with a high number of reviews tend to draw larger numbers of new readers. On Amazon, the more reviews a book has, the higher the book's ranking, and the higher its visibility. Books that receive lots of ratings and reviews get bumped up in the Amazon algorithm, and casual Amazon scrollers are likelier to see it. This is exactly why some authors buy reviews. The higher the visibility, the higher the sales, the higher the probability that it's worth an author's time to write a sequel.

Basically, it's all a numbers game, which is a little bit soul-crushing when you're an artist who wants to think hard work, dedication, attention to detail, and artistry will carry you forward. Instead, it's all about rank, and views, and clicks, and the cha-ching, baby. 

I do so love reading comments; I'm trying to be better about responding to all of them. And having chats online about our favorite characters. But reviews really are for readers, in more ways than one. 

#TeaserTuesday: Do As You Are Told

Amelia knew what it looked like when a bath was being prepared, but she still asked, “What’s happening? What are they doing?”

The man sighed again, and headed for the door. “Be sure to clean her hair down to the roots. It stinks of dragon,” he addressed the women, who nodded in silent understanding.

Amelia stood, wobbled, and caught herself with a hand braced on the high back of the chaise. “Wait!” she called after him, surprised when he stopped, and then turned. “Whatever this is for”—she gestured to the bath preparations, water spilling over the edge of her cup, heart pounding—“I won’t go along with it. You can’t make me do anything.” It sounded childish the moment it left her mouth, and his small, tight smile said he thought so, too.

“Miss Drake,” he said, falsely patient, “you are no longer the lone dragon rider amidst an army of Southern misfits. You are here, in our possession. You will do as you are told.”

The or else went unspoken, but she shuddered all the same. 

For reasons I've never understood, every time I reach 50k words on a manuscript, my progress slows. I don't stop writing, and I don't lose sight of what comes next, but the day-to-day composition becomes a slower, more arduous process. Instead of hammering out words, I write a few sentences, then stare out the window; then check my email; then scroll Instagram; then write a few more sentences. I don't know why this happens, but it happens with every book. It's some sort of malaise, that eventually lifts, and then I sprint through the final 10-20k words of the book. I'm trying to learn to accept it and not fret about it. Every time I think "oh no, I've lost the magic," but every time I work through it. Jesus take the keyboard, I guess. 

It might have something to do with the fact that the 50k mark is usually where things start to go really south for the characters. It's the thick of whatever sticky situation they'd landed in, and there's a subconscious part of me that places a heavier emphasis on those scenes. That's certainly the state of things right now in Avarice of the Empire. Our three Drakes are in trouble. 

Fearless Read-Along: Chapter Twenty-One

 

   

           He wanted his girl, and he couldn’t have her, and he wanted to crack someone’s head open with his cue stick.

               By the end of the night, he would want to crack his own head open, for not pulling her into his arms that morning and asking her what was wrong. 

 

This is one of those evil cliffhanger chapters; the sort that, when reading for the first time, requires you to turn the page and read just one more chapter. It's also a chapter that highlights why multi POV is my preference when writing any sort of book in any genre. 

Real life is limited POV, and we have only our own observations and experiences to go on. After a tumultuous event, we compare notes with others involved, and get a clearer picture of what was actually happening, as opposed to our personal perception of what occurred. Limited POV books (I've written two, College Town and Walking Wounded) can be really rewarding when the main character experiences a big reveal, but I find they don't provide the real-time action experience I'm aiming for in most of my books. 

Writing is a very cinematic process for me. I'm blocking shots in my head, and panning an imaginary camera. In a film, we'd cut from scene to scene, from character to character, in a way that tells the complete story, rather than a part of it. 

Ava and Mercy are both hurting here, and if we stuck with Ava's POV, we wouldn't get to see Mercy's anguish based on his outward behavior alone. Given what comes next, it was essential to spend some time in Mercy's head. Ava's thinking he hates her, wondering how to handle her pregnancy, meanwhile he's applying ointment to a tattoo of her teeth and feeling sorry for himself. It's much more painful (awesome) when you get to walk in both their shoes. 

Carter lived in a seedy neighborhood, full of unkempt lawns and rusted-out decades-old cars. All the angles seemed a little off, a little saggy, a little too slanted. The houses gave the impression of slitted eyes peeping from the wilderness, sleeping beasts who didn’t want to be approached. 

Carter's POV here is important for two reasons. One, just to show what sort of person he is, and where he comes from, so that him eventually prospecting the club makes sense. I always forget much I love Carter; brave boy! It also offers a glimpse into the sad truth that status doesn't always mean anything. Carter's one of the most popular kids in his grade, but comes from a rough home life. Ava's a pariah, considered trash by her peers, but comes from a well-kept, loving, stable home. 

The other reason I wanted to use Carter here is because it keeps the action rolling right along. It creates urgency for the characters, and the reader. If we learned about Ava's abduction through Carter telling the guys about it, the impact is passive, as opposed to the very active scene of him finding her truck, and then her phone, and realizing what's happened. Plot momentum is too often conflated with brevity. A short book, filled with quick, punchy sentences offers a false sense of forward movement. In truth, momentum is created by active scenes of unbroken narrative. Mercy hearing about Ava is a passive scene, no matter how much it affects him; Carter finding the phone is an active scene. The more active scenes you include, the more the book starts to feel like a movie you're watching, and that's always my goal. 

Up next: it's a doozy. It also contains one of my favorite moments in the book. "Ava, call him off."

Fave BoD Scenes in No Particular Order: The Wedding

 

Raven stood up by the arbor, her matron of honor. Since Cass had chosen only one bridesmaid, Shep had picked one groomsman, and that was Toly, his hair slicked back tight along his scalp, wearing all black under his cut. He had the rings in his pocket, Cass knew, as they’d planned.

She saw all of this with a cursory glance: down to the flower swags on the chairs and the swinging lanterns on poles. Then her attention fixed and held on Shep, who was waiting for her.

He’d clearly spent a lot of time and a lot of product on his hair to capture the perfect artless wave on top where he kept it longer. Raven had provided him with a nicely-fitted black button-up shirt, pressed and sleek under his cut, which gleamed with a fresh layer of oil. Dark jeans. His boots were oiled, too. Even his wallet chain looked extra shiny.

The fingers of his right hand tapped at his thigh, a nervous tic, and he leaned fractionally so he could get a better look at her as she and Devin started down the aisle. His face looked so young: nervous, and hopeful, and excited, and cautious. His throat jerked hard as he swallowed, and then his lips twitched into a little smile that made her want to cup his face in both hands and rub their noses together.

Even as her eyes filled with tears, Cass smiled; it felt like her face splitting itself in two, unstoppable and bright and bursting with all the energy that mounted in her chest.

Shep’s smile widened, a helpless response, and he looked so happy, happier than she’d ever seen him.

As they made their slow progression across a scattering of petals, Devin patted her hand where it rested in the crook of his elbow and leaned in to whisper, “That’s a happy man.”

“Yeah,” she said, shakily.

“What d’ya say we walk faster?”

“Yes, let’s.”

I don't normally write weddings. In fact, I'm not sure I've ever actually shown a wedding on-page in this series; usually I reference it or have characters remember it in hindsight. But given the circumstances in Beware of Dog, it felt important to show that, despite the rush, and the courtroom reasoning, Cass and Shep are truly excited to tie the knot. It also offers a chance to show her family accepting Shep as her partner, and as one of their own. 

If you haven't read BoD yet, you can grab it here:

Kindle

Paperback

Nook

Kobo

#ThrowbackThursday: FOW

I think it's safe to say that Fortunes of War is the most divisive installment of the Drake Chronicles. So far, anyway. Some people enjoyed it, some people swore never to return to the series after it, and some are, thankfully, hanging in there to see how the series resolves. 

For my part, I had a bit of wicked, writerly delight in twisting our already-tangled threads into even more difficult knots...but that's because I know what comes next. The author always has the advantage of foresight. And to some extent, those really angry reviews tell me that those pissed-off readers were really engaged with the characters, and are as a result feeling some big emotions in response to those characters' decisions and actions. The reader anger is a good thing, in the short term. And like I've said before: I've still got lots of cooking to do.

When I started writing Heart of Winter, I intended it to be the first book in a trilogy - but not in the way you're probably thinking. HOW was originally going to include the events of Edge of the Wild and Blood of Wolves, too. All three books of the existing series were going to be the first novel in the trilogy. My brain works best in long form, and fat books are my jam. I stepped away from my norm, though, because I'd not written in this genre before, and didn't want to invest months on an 800 page monster until I got a feel for how the story would be received (even in 2020, "romantasy" wasn't a word being used). As a result, each book in the series is shorter and more manageable. 

When looked at this way, books 1-3 are technically book one, which means books 4-6 are technically book two. The second book in any trilogy is one in which the characters' problems multiply, without any solutions in sight. The second installment in any trilogy is messy; a little scary, oftentimes hopeless. Think of The Two Towers, or The Empire Strikes Back. There are small-scale victories, sure, but overall, the story resembles a shaken can of Coke. 

I think Fortunes of War suffers for this. If looked at in the trilogy format, it's the middle part of a middle book, and it raises far more questions than it answers. 

For the final part of the "trilogy," I've decided to end the series on book seven. It'll be one big final act, in which all the conflicts are resolved. Some big action, some swoony romantic endings, and everyone goes home happy. I'm working on book six now, and it does answer some important questions...but also complicates things further. It drops a reveal that no one has guessed yet, so I'm very excited about that. It also reveals why we spent so much time on seeming side pairings in Fortunes. 

It was slow going at first, since I took so much time away from the series to work on That Giant Book, but now I'm back in the groove, and hoping Avarice won't take me much longer. If you stuck it out through FOW, you won't want to miss this one! 

#TeaserTuesday: Idiot

 

Shep pointed through the windshield. “Take the next right. We’re gonna—”

“Pffft,” Tenny interrupted from the back seat. “Just put the address in the GPS. He’s not stupid.”

A glance in the rearview proved that Tenny sat slumped across the center of the seat, bent over his phone, but his gaze flashed up to meet Shep’s in the mirror, and it bristled with a clear threat.

Leave Reese alone. Got it.

“Alright.” Shep had to look the address up on his phone before he punched it in. Then he settled in for an awkward ride.

It was silent the first few blocks, save the expensive purring of the engine. Then Reese said, “This is Cass’s friend’s house we’re going to?”

“Yeah,” Shep said, and then, not knowing how much they knew, gave them the quick and dirty on the whole situation.

Tenny hummed thoughtfully as they crossed the bridge. He’d put his phone away and sat up to peer between the front bucket seats. “Tell me again why you haven’t offed this little wanker?”

“Believe me, I want to so bad I can taste it,” Shep said, letting his bitterness and frustration bleed through. “But the friend’s a civilian, and so’s the little rich shit who raped her, so the girls went to the cops, and now…”

“Now if something happens to him, everyone’s going to point to the Dogs,” Tenny said. He tsked. “What were you thinking? Flying colors while you slapped him around.”

Shep stiffened in his seat. He hadn’t included his little pistol-whipping transgression in his version of events.

Tenny chuckled. “What, you thought Raven would leave that part out?”

“I hoped she would.”

“No such luck. Idiot.”

Shep sighed. “Yeah, okay, I deserve that one.”

It was quiet a beat, tires hissing over pavement. Then, with an edge of grudging respect, Tenny said, “No. I’d have sent a message, too. But,” he stressed, after. “I would have done it with a ski mask and without my cut. Idiot.”

“He doesn’t usually mean it when he says idiot,” Reese offered.

“Pipe down, you,” Tenny said. “I mean it.”

Only Tenny gets to call Reese an idiot, you understand. 

Actually, in my mind, Shep and Tenny end up being pretty fast friends. Or partners in social crimes, more like. The whole Brood is fairly strapped-down and self-contained; if they don't have a barbed quip at the ready, they keep quiet (the boys, anyway). But Shep just opens his mouth and Says Stuff, damn the consequences. 

I have this persistent scenario in mind: someone gets married (Tommy; I think it has to be Tommy, poor dude) and when the officiant gets to the "if anyone objects" part, some stranger in the back stands up and declares his love for the bride. Chaos ensues. Shep is delighted, and there's not enough dirty looks, pokes in the ribs, or high heels grinding down on toes to keep him and Tenny quiet. They keep feeding off one another, while Raven threatens murder, and both their long-suffering spouses look at one another and shrug, both of them secretly delighted in turn by Tenny and Shep's bond in their joint effort to give Tommy absolute hell. 

Tenny: "It's just as well, Tom. None of us had given you 'the talk' yet, and this way you won't embarrass yourself on the wedding night."

Shep: "If it helps, she didn't have a great ass."

Raven's no longer forming words she's so angry.

Michelle's mainlining Tommy the good whiskey. 

(Please note, this is NOT a book I'm going to write, just a snippet! I'm happy with where all things Dogs leave off, and will only pick the series back up if a publisher throws an advance at my head) 

If you haven't read Beware of Dog yet, find it here:

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Fearless Read-Along: Chapter Twenty

 

“The dinner,” she said. “You and Ava in the kitchen.” Her eyebrows went up in silent question.

               He said nothing.

               “Merc, I’ve always known that she carries a huge, flaming torch for you. But I never thought you’d take her up on the offer. You’re more careful than that.”

               He glanced away from her; he’d expected a very different kind of accusation. He had no idea what to do with this.

               “I like you,” Maggie went on. “Hell, I love you. You know that. You’re family. You’re the only reason Ava and I are alive right now, and believe me, I know that. I don’t take that lightly.”

               He waited for it.

               “But…”

               He snapped back to her, levering hostility into his voice. “But this is the part where you give me the stay away from your daughter speech?”

               “No.” Her face softened further. Her throat worked as she swallowed. “I understand. I might be the only person in the world who does, but trust me, I get it. Even if that makes me a bad mother.

               “What I’m saying, is that I hope you’ve calculated the risks. All of them, real life, and club-related.”

               Are you using protection?

               Are you prepared for Ghost’s reaction?

               “My hubby,” Maggie said, “God, I love him, but he’s oblivious when it comes to Ava. She’s not an adult in his eyes. She’s still just a baby. And you’re…you.”

               He wanted to hit something. “So?” He made a show of shrugging. “So what am I supposed to do?”

               Maggie shrugged back. “I don’t know.” Her glasses came down over her eyes with a little flick from one finger. “I honestly don’t.”

               And she slipped back into the office before he could respond.

I regret to inform anyone angered by accidental pregnancy storylines in books that accidental pregnancies do occur quite often in real life. 😂 Given the tumultuous, uncareful nature of Ava and Mercy's early relationship, it's little wonder Ava finds herself in that school bathroom, learning that her life's just changed irrevocably. 

My favorite scene in Chapter Twenty is Maggie and Mercy's exchange in front of the Dartmoor office. It was never my intention to portray Maggie as a Cool Mom™, but as a realistic one. She's been a part of this MC life for more than twenty years, and so, while she shared Ghost's goal of putting Ava through college, she didn't share his expectation that she would be "normal" by societal standards. She's torn, because she knows exactly where Ava's coming from, based on her own personal experience, but can also foresee the impending disaster. But, like I said in a previous post, she's not going to intervene directly, because she's (perhaps selfishly) grooming Ava to be her right-hand woman in Lean Dog Land. 

This chapter shows Mercy being a jerk yet again. The problem with Mercy is that, despite his ability to dole out warm and helpful advice to his brothers (like with Shep in Beware of Dog, and with Aidan and Tango in every Dartmoor book ever), he is a purely emotional creature himself. He can't be rational, and kindly distant with Ava. He's either going to be all over her, or hateful in his attempts to keep her at arm's length. Is he trying to protect her from the fallout? Yes. But he can't do it in a grown-up way. 

The rest of the chapter is set up for what goes down at Hamilton House. We've got Mason's chilling little teaser:

“She’s just the kind of whore cops find dead on the floors of abandoned houses. Setting yourself up for disappointment.”

And Ava's phone. Yikes.

On a personal note: oftentimes, reading my older work makes me cringe. But sometimes a line or two jump out and I give myself a little mental pat on the back for a turn of phrase. I loved this bit:

Five a.m. was a blank-faced, indigo wall, trying to press her back into the house, into bed. Five a.m. didn’t want to be messed with or questioned. It wasn’t the insidious shifting shadow miasma of midnight. It was an angry schoolmarm that didn’t expect to be challenged.