CHECK OUT WHO IS COMING TO MY BLOG IN THE NEXT YEAR OR SO. ROMANCE AUTHORS AND INDUSTRY ICONS!

 
I am so excited!  So many awesome authors and a special industry icon coming here to my blog!  I think my fans and theirs will be over the moon to see who will be visiting over the next year or so!  I know I am!

THURSDAY PICK ME UP! HEY EVERYONE WE ARE GOING TO MICHIGAN THIS WEEK TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN AN ARROGANT VIKING GETS TOSSED FORWARD IN TIME!

Wulgar is a womanizing Viking when he's not fighting or taking care of business as a jarl.  But because of his habit of bedding women, an irate Faery princess, Catriona sends him forward in time, where he meets Raven who is a published romance author. Together they have some sensual and harrowing times between dodging an atrocious villain and the faery princess.

Before Wulf could gather his words to reply, a sound like metal hitting rock bounced off the building near them.

The woman jerked and squeaked, then grabbed his arm.

“Someone’s shooting,” she hissed. “We have to get out of here.”

For one so much smaller than he, her grasp was strong. He allowed her to pull him down the hill, as more sounds echoed all around them.

“Hurry up, do you want to get killed?”

She towed him along until they reached some type of wire fencing. The woman grabbed the wire and began to climb rapidly to the top.

“Get a move on, will you? Those are bullets not popcorn coming our way.”

Another round of sound and the dirt in front of his feet bucked up.

“God help us!” Her voice conveyed the urgency he was beginning to feel, and Wulf followed the woman’s lead and began to climb, all the time wondering what else could go wrong.

Once over the side, she moved to a large metal object. He jumped back with alarm when she opened it up and climbed in.

She growled at him. “What are you waiting on, an engraved invitation? We have to go.”

Wulf copied her prior movements and tried to fold his body into the small area.

“Shut the door, Viking.”

He looked and then found what looked like a lever. He grasped it and then pulled it forward—enclosing himself inside with, as much as it hurt to admit, his rescuer.

“Whew, looks like we made it.” Raven’s heartbeat began to slow somewhat, but her hands still trembled. “I have no earthly idea why someone was shooting at us, but I’m definitely calling the police.”

Raven looked over at her passenger. Wulf’s face still had not regained his previously tanned color. The man’s hands gripped his thighs in such a way, if he wasn’t built like he was, he’d leave bruises. For pity’s sake, she wasn’t driving all that fast. You’d think the man had never been in a car before.

Well he said he was born in 976. She shushed the tiny voice in her head. Time travel was a myth. He probably just didn’t like female drivers… Still—

“Hey, you okay?”

“What is this thing?” His words were uttered through clenched teeth.

“What?” The man was more loony than she’d originally thought or a good actor. Or maybe he’s telling the truth.

“This thing we are riding in.”

“It’s a car. Haven’t you ever seen one before?”

“We do not travel this way in my time.”

Raven gritted her teeth. “Look, you have to understand, what you’re telling me about being from the past is totally crazy to me.”

“As it is to me. I wish to return home, but I cannot.” The Viking’s voice held anger as well as regret.

“Okay, so let’s say you’re for real. Maybe I can help.”

“I thank you, but Princess—”

“Whoa, princess? That’s the second time you mentioned this princess. I think we need to talk. I’m going to hit a drive-through and pick up some food, and then we’ll go to my place. I need to call the police about what happened, but after we eat, you can tell me your story.”

“You would open your home to me?”

“Well, if what you’re telling me is true, you don’t know any one else in this century.” Raven would weigh the pros and cons of having the seductive and hot bod in her house at a later time. For now, the man could use some help one way or the other.

“I do not even know your name.”

A quick glance reiterated she needed to keep her eyes on the road. His silver eyes glowed with frustration and probably homesickness. Poor thing. She’d bet whatever caused him, if it was true, to be sent to the future had not been his fault. Poor baby.

“I’m Raven. Raven Harrison.”

“Your father named you after a bird?

“Actually, my mother did. She used to do a lot of bird watching.”

Apparently Wulf’s curiosity was satisfied for the time being. He remained quiet as she rolled through a fast-food restaurant and ordered hamburgers, fries, and shakes.

Not long after that, she pulled into the circular drive of her home. Being an author had been a second job at first, but now with the revenue from her books, she’d put down a down payment on her first real home away from her childhood home.

After putting the car in park and turning off the ignition, she opened the door and got out. Raven walked around to the passenger side and opened the door for Wulf, who held the bags with their food. She retrieved the cardboard holder with the shakes.

“You about ready to eat?”

His puzzled stare went from her to the bags and then back again. “You eat parchment?”

Raven’s laughter brought a slight smile to his lips.

“No, silly, the food is inside the bags.” Unable to resist, she touched him lightly on the arm and couldn’t help but enjoy the feel of taut muscle under her fingertips.

The man was built like a brick house.

She stepped back as Wulf finally managed to unwedge his body from the car. He stood silent while she closed the car door, and she motioned for him to follow her up the walkway.

One minute later they stood inside the entryway. After bolting the door, she started toward the kitchen.

“Let’s eat.”

When she turned after taking the bags from him and putting the food on the old farm-style table, she almost stepped on his bare feet.

Funny, Raven had failed to notice he didn’t wear any type of footwear. She gave his scrumptious body a once-over and noticed the gold bands he wore on each massive forearm.

“What are those for?”

Wulf glanced down and then his gaze speared hers. “They are bands with my family crest.”

“I see…a hammer for Thor?”

“Yea, but for Thorrason not the god of thunder.” The slight grin he gave her revealed even and extremely white teeth.

“Come on, sit down. I’m starved.” Raven yanked out a chair and promptly sat. Her hopefully short-term house guest did the same. She took a burger out of the bag, dumped it and a large order of fries onto a paper plate, and slid it across the table.

Not sure if Wulf knew what a straw was or how to use it, she prepped his shake and pushed it within hand’s reach.

His eyes followed her as she took a bite of burger and crunched on a fry. He did the same. When she took a sip of her chocolate shake, he mimicked her move again, like he really had no clue as to how to eat junk food.

“This is good; I like it.”

Raven hid a grin when he picked up a napkin and dotted the catsup off his lips.

“I’m glad. When we finish eating, I need to call about the shooting at the cemetery, but after that I really want to talk to you about where you came from. Now tell me about the pendant you wear. Is it a family heirloom?”

****

Suddenly the tantalizing taste of meat tasted like ashes to Wulf. What if she still didn’t believe him? And if she did, what then? Catriona’s words he needed to learn love in order to return home made no sense to him. He’d cared for all the women he’d taken to bed. And there had been many. Raven would think him a womanizer. Why it should matter to Wulf, he did not know, but it did.

“Earth to Wulf. Did you hear me?”

“Yes, I am sorry. Of course, we shall talk about my home. My mother gave me the pendant when I became a jarl.”

After gathering and tossing the remains of their meal, he followed Raven into a room she called a den. She motioned for him to sit. If he were not so beholden to her for a place to lay his head tonight, or if he were not dazzled by the now dry waves of blonde hair drifting over her breasts and the soft blue of her eyes, he would order her to stop treating him like a hunting dog to be commanded.

Once he did as she asked, he shrugged his shoulders. “You may ask your questions.” He prayed his rescuer would believe him. Until he could figure out how to get home, he could not afford to make her think him more crazy than she already did. Thor’s hammer, he certainly did not want to leave—just yet. Something about Raven called to him. He wasn’t sure in what way, but it was more than lust that caught his interest.

The smile Raven shot his way bordered on irritated. Who did he think he was? Oh yeah, right, a Viking.

“Thank you, I believe I’ll start with, what did you do to make someone mad enough to banish you from your home?”

“I uh…I was…” Wulf’s words trailed off.

Yep, he was a bit perturbed. Good. He’d had her in a tizzy ever since they met. It was his turn now.

“You what?”

“I was accused of rutting too much.”

Raven bit her lip until she tasted the salty tang of blood. Oh my Lord, the man got banished because he couldn’t keep his pants up.

Well…maybe it wasn’t all his fault. The women were probably all over him. He was more than a bit cute, he was hunk city with all the chocolate in the world thrown in for good measure.

“I see. So did you?”

“Did I what?”

The blaze of color turning his cheeks a deeper bronze was actually endearing, but she wasn’t ready to let him off the hot seat. And she still needed to find out if his story was true.

“Have sex with all those women?”

This time Wulf’s face turned a rich crimson.

“Ye should not be talking that way. Ye are a woman.”

His statement threw her for a moment and then she laughed.

“Look. Viking warrior or whatever, this is 2010. Women not only talk that way but they actually participate.”

Shock lanced through his eyes, turning them almost black.

“Do you participate that way?”

Heat scalded her cheeks. “That is none of your business, Mr. Thorrason.”

“ ’Tis Jarl Thorrason. And you asked me, so I’m asking you.”

Raven cleared her throat. “Well, I think this conversation is finished. Why don’t I show you where the bathroom is…” Her words trailed off at his look of confusion.

“It’s a place you can take a bath and take care of any personal needs.”

Her guest stood up when she did, and followed when she moved out of the kitchen and to the bathroom. He flinched but did not say a word when she turned on the light. He moved closer when she pulled back the sliding door to the walk-in shower and turned a knob.

“How did you do that?”

“You mean make the water come on?”

“Yea, I do not think you would be part of witchcraft, but how?”

The man was either an expert in reenactment skills, or as she truly began to believe, a visitor from the past.

“Water is channeled through underground pipes. There is a heater that warms the water when you turn one knob and then there is also a knob that makes the water run cold.”

“Do you think I could try it?”

“Of course. Just let me check this and I’ll leave…” Raven’s words disappeared in a throat suddenly gone dry. Wulf, the split second she’d turned to test the water temp, stripped off his pants. His bottom half was just as impressive as his top portion.

In fact, the male portion of him, even unaroused, was way more imposing than she could have imagined.

She brought her gaze back to his face, and cringed at the smirk on his sensual lips.

“So you see, sometimes, I was the hunted instead of the hunter.”

“So, you’re telling me you just allowed yourself to be led to the slaughter...or should that be bedroom?”

“I may have allowed myself to be led to the bedchamber, but I assure you once there ’twas I who did the leading.”

Raven would have—should have—knocked the sensual smirk off his lips, but instead decided to do the prudent thing and retreat.

Moments later, she pulled a flannel gown from her clothes bureau and prepared for bed. She couldn’t get the scene in the bathroom out of her mind. Sure, his chest had looked just fine in the kitchen. Well, actually, a bit more than fine. Muscular and probably warm if she’d dared to touch his bronze skin, but combined with a full frontal sans braies, Wulf oozed testosterone until her knees almost buckled. Something she would definitely have to guard against if he stayed.

Stayed? That would be pure lunacy on her part. The man was a walking advertisement for sex. She certainly didn’t need him in her life, and she positively did not want him anywhere near her bed.

Raven snorted out loud. Maybe if she said it enough, she might believe it. But that was the least of her worries. Somewhere between the cemetery and the shower, she’d found herself warming to him, not just the physical perfection of Wulf, but his smile, his accent, and his old-world charm.

Just her luck to pick up a stray that could be endearing, obstinate, and would make a great sex toy.

Whoa. Don’t go there, girlfriend.

The man was just staying the night, and then she’d find him a nice hotel until she decided if he should be committed. Or, if he spoke the truth, she’d help him find his way back home.

Once in bed, she flicked off the bedside lamp and settled under the covers. Ten minutes later, she still lay awake. The Viking’s movements in the adjacent guest room filtered in through every nook and cranny. Why didn’t he go to sleep? She was more than ready for a good night’s sleep after today. She frowned. Crackers, what with listening to Wulf and doing a more than adequate fill of looking at his drool-worthy body, she’d forgotten to call the police about the shooting at the cemetery. First thing in the morning, she’d fix that mistake.

Wulf’s muffled exclamations on finding and exploring new objects finally ended, and Raven took advantage of the quiet and closed her eyes.

A creaking noise woke her sometime later. She punched her pillow and tried to go back to sleep. Wulf undoubtedly suffered from insomnia. Raven turned on her back and stared straight into the eyes of a masked man.

Next week we will explore what happens to Princess Catriona in "Semper Fi Magick."

SATURDAY AND SUNDAY RECAP!

I have decided to start doing a Saturday and Sunday recap, since Saturday night rolls around so fast, and I have taken to watching “Outlander” on Demand so I can enjoy it and stop it if I need to on Sunday.  Last night’s episode touched my heart. Yes, I know it is fiction to a certain extent, but when Claire started remembering about Culloden, my heart broke. To think so many Highland warriors gave their life in a battle to have what was theirs in the first place is so tragic. And when Claire was to say if she was with Clan MacKenzie without coercion and it ended, I wanted to scream.  Yes, I have read the books, but this is such a pivotal part of what happens next. 

                       

Oh well, now to what else I have been doing.  Homework, homework, and more homework. Why is it I wait until almost the last minute to finish what I should have already done?  Perhaps it’s the draw of books to read, books to write, or just plain old procrastination.  Ach, I dinna ken I be such a terrible person.

Now, back to homework, but I’m wishing you all the best for the week and don’t forget to stop by for “Pick Me Up Thursday.”  And on Friday, I will be announcing my guest authors for the next year. I think you will be happy to know that I have invited authors from the historical, paranormal, erotic, and fantasy genres of romance.  But until then mum’s the word.

Keep reading!

THURSDAY PICK ME UP! TONIGHT WE ARE HEADED TO ENGLAND TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN A ROMANCE AUTHOR GETS TOSSED INTO THE PAST.

Sorry everyone, I seem to be running late most days lately, but I have for your reading pleasure an excerpt from my very first published book, "Beware What You Wish." It is a time travel and I hope you enjoy Leah's and Alistair's foray into romance as they meet for the first time.

 

Splash!

“Oomph!” a deep baritone boomed.

“What the—!” Leah’s voice came out in a high squeak.

“Damnation!”

“Let me go!” Fear laced Leah’s words.

“Ballocks!”

Leah jerked her breast and body away from the naked man’s touch. She flipped backwards out of the tub and onto the hardwood floor. For a moment, she sat rubbing a bruised elbow she assumed had collided with the metal edge of the monstrosity she’d fallen into.

Maybe she should be rubbing her head. She must have hit it hard to imagine she was in a strange man’s bedroom, by way of his bathtub.

Water splashed inches from her body, and her gaze lit on two large feet. Not a good sign. The man they belonged to must be a giant to sport those size twelve’s. Leah allowed her gaze to travel up the expanse of rock hard calves to thighs the size of a log and to an—.

Leah dropped her head so quickly she almost gave herself whiplash.

The massive erection jutting skyward made her tingle in places she’d only read about in romance novels.

“I don’t know how ye got in here, but I be not in the mood for witchcraft.”

Leah wasn’t sure how she’d gotten where she was either, but of one thing she was certain: the giant standing before her with the sexy brogue had to be a figment of her imagination, or worse—maybe she was dead.

Fragments of her fall through darkness rushed again toward her with a whirling collage of colors. She shook her head to dispel the frightening image. Her heartbeat, stuttered to a slow crawl, and her throat threatened to close against the fear fighting its way from the pit of her stomach. She swallowed hard to get the knot out of her throat before replying.

“Look, mister, I don’t know anything about witchcraft. I don’t understand what’s going on either, but if you’ll just point the way out, I’ll be happy to leave.”

Hopefully, when she did leave, she’d find herself back at the bed and breakfast nursing a few bruised body parts.

“Lord.”

“Lord, what?” Leah’s frustration only added to the fear she’d lost her mind.

“Lord Knightsley be the proper way to address me, or if ye prefer, Laird MacKinnon.”

Leah’s mouth gaped. It appeared someone besides her had suffered a fall. The possibility that someone might have found her at the ruins and kidnapped her unconscious body crossed her mind. What if the man had escaped from a mental institution?

She started to stand, but that put her face way too close to a part of him she didn’t need to see. Of course, it could be fodder for her book, but in her neck of the woods, good girls didn’t gape at a man’s package—or at least—not where they could get caught. Besides, the man could be an ax-murderer for all she knew.

Infinitely better to follow her first plan of thought: slide backwards and then run for her life.

So intent on doing just that, Leah almost missed the damp, outstretched hand.

“Allow me to help ye to your feet, lass.”

Although her limbs quaked on the inside, she would not permit the man to see her fear. She lifted her gaze from his tanned hand and forearm. The face greeting her had graced her sensual dreams for months.

Eyes the grayish blue of a Scottish sky sat below dark brows and looked like they held the same confusion she felt. Lines fanned the sides of his eyes and paid homage to sinfully dark lashes, while lips that were thinned in what could have been disapproval drew her gaze to the stubborn jut of his chin. A nose that had been broken several times by the looks of it held center-stage in a broad but not fleshy face. All of his decidedly masculine and sensual attributes were foils for the shoulder-length raven-dark hair, the ends slightly damp from his bath.

Lord help her. She didn’t know if she was dreaming or not, but maybe now would be a good time to wake up.

“Thanks, but no thanks. I can get up on my own.” Favoring her bruised bottom, she climbed to her feet and promptly slid in the puddle of water. Her hands found stability by gripping the man’s massive shoulders.

A smothered laugh sounded above her, and Leah found her body pressed against his frame. Her head rested against his wide chest. Her own chest found a position against his abs, bringing her center dangerously close to his arousal.

Not a good thing.

“Uh, thanks for the help, but I think I can—.”

“Standing on your own last time didn’t help, lass, so what if I help ye to a safe spot, and ye can tell me what ye be doing in me home.”

The giant and now, she became more convinced than ever, a Scottish hunk, did not give her time to reply. His hands gripped her under the arms—thank God she’d shaved that morning—and swung her up and over the water. One second she was airborne, and the next she half-reclined on a gargantuan bed, complete with canopy and curtains.

Again, he gave her no time to reply. Instead, he turned his back and walked to the tub. His buttocks were as impressive as the rest of him—tanned and tight. The bath towel he draped low on his hips and knotted at the waist barely covered the essentials. His arms, now crossed over his lightly furred chest, made her think of a block of stone and probably did not bode well for what she had to tell him, if she even knew what to say. Maybe, she’d just let him start the question and answer session.

Legs spread slightly apart, he looked like a warrior of old. Maybe a reenactment group practiced somewhere near, for even without a sword—forget about the one between his legs—he smacked of arrogance, brawn, and a decidedly chauvinist attitude.

“Ach, lass, I think now would be a good time to tell me what ye are doing here.”

“Fine, but get one thing straight. My name is Leah Barnett, not lass. Also, I can’t tell you what I don’t know. I don’t have a clue as to what happened. Maybe you could help me by telling me just where in the sam hill I am, Mr., uh, Lord or Laird MacKinnon?”

His brows rose in an arch and his breath exhaled, she supposed, in disbelief and possibly a bit of anger.

“Well, I dinna ken anyone named Sam, but I can say ye be at Knightsley Hall. The castle and surrounding grounds have been in me family for over seven centuries.”

“Are you crazy? Knightsley Hall is nothing but a pile of ruins. So, if you don’t mind, I believe I’ll leave.

****

Laird McKinnon advanced on the woman sitting on his bed. He ignored the fact his sex throbbed, stirred by the provocative picture of the half-dressed lass in front of him.

Back home, he’d probably just take her to bed and then pay her off. But she didn’t look like the women that dogged the village of McKinnon. Something about this woman seemed almost innocent, but her attire said the opposite.

Before he made up his mind, he needed more answers.

“Well, Miss Leah, I dinna think that would be a good idea. What do ye have to say now?”

Her pleasing heather-colored eyes widened. Her luscious lips opened, closed and then opened again.

“I say that one of us is crazy, and I don’t think it’s me.”

“Then explain to me why ye are here.”

Blonde hair with slivers of moonlight caught in its folds shimmered as she shook her head.

“Not until you tell me what year this is.”

Alistair figured it would be better to humor the woman—for surely she was a bit mixed up in the head. Possibly, she’d suffered some type of malady.

“‘Tis the year 1811, in the year of our Lord.”

SATURDAY AND SUNDAY RECAP...

Hi everyone!  I am running so far behind in posting my Saturday Recap, I decided to do a Sunday one also. I can't blame the Internet going down on being tardy, but rather my fascination with re-reading Lisa Jackson's "Montana to Die" series.  I am going to purchase the newest one in this series in a couple of weeks and wanted to refresh myself with the characters.  If you have not read this author, she is good with suspense!

Now, I want to also send a shout out to my author friend, Mary Morgan, who just did her first book signing this weekend at the Scottish Games in California. She promised me lots of pics with hunky Highlanders in kilts!  Using my hand to fan myself...lol.

Speaking of kilts, wasn't the 4th episode of  "Outlander" awesome?  I loved Diana's walk-on part.  And the tension seems to be heating up even more with Claire and Jamie.

So, let's see what else I've done. I did manage to finish my history homework, not sure how well I did but it's in!  And today I had the wonderful pleasure of seeing a girlfriend of mine who moved away from these parts to the state of Washington.  She and her family made a special trip to see my daughter and I.  We had lunch and it was so good to see them all.

Well, hopefully, I made up for missing my post last night. So until next time, read, read, read, and kiss a Highlander!

IT'S TIME FOR MY THURSDAY PICK ME UP! THIS TRIP WE ARE HEADED TO WASHINGTON D.C. TO SEE WHAT VAMPIRE GOVERNMENT PROTECTOR KIRA DOES WHEN AIR FORCE ONE GOES DOWN.

I first came up with the title for this book, "Presidential Heat" while watching President Reagan's funeral on television. I had no idea what was going to go in the book but I loved the title.  So former Marine Kira Jackson became a reality when I put her with a handsome but widowed president.  A former Ranger by the way who decides he does not need a woman guarding him. 

Kira arrived back in the cockpit to find Gareth ending his conversation with the pilot.

“Oh good, you’re back, Agent Jackson. I spoke to Malachi, and he will meet us when we land. Undoubtedly, he has a sixth sense for trouble. He’s already en route.”

“That would not surprise me, sir. I spoke to him also by cell, and we need to get you buckled in.”

“First—”

“Sir, Commander Bartlett will announce what is going on. Isn’t that right, Commander?” At Bartlett’s nod, she gently grasped Gareth’s arm. “We need to get back and make sure John is strapped in also.”

The president’s eyes opened wide for a second, allowing Kira a clear view of green. She also spotted anxiety riding the curve of his irises. The man certainly kept a cool air about him, not letting anyone see his inner thoughts. Gareth must be going nuts wondering if anyone else might get injured or even killed during the unavoidable crash landing.

“You’re right. John needs our help.”

Gareth walked with a steady but determined step as they descended the stairway and moved back to his suite. John lay sleeping on the small love seat. One of Dr. Shelton’s med techs sat with him.

She watched Gareth’s eyes touch on the tech’s scrub top. “Thank you, Private Waters, you are relieved of this duty. Please let Dr. Shelton know we are going to have a rough landing. He’ll apprise you about what to do next.”

Gareth accepted the private’s salute and returned one of his own as Kira bent over to check on John. His color looked good, but his breathing was a bit rapid for her liking. She hoped the ambulances would be standing by when they landed. John needed an X-ray and possible hospitalization.

“Sir, we might do better to move to your office. We can buckle up in there better.”

“All right, I’ll get—”

“Already got him, sir. You lead the way.” Kira boosted John onto her shoulder and followed Gareth. Once the president and John were strapped in, side by side on the sofa, Kira removed all objects that could turn into flying weapons. All possible projectiles went into desk drawers. She then punched in the number for the cockpit on the phone.

“Commander Bartlett, the president is secure. I will leave the intercom open for any instructions or information from you.”

“Thank you, Agent. Now, I suggest you strap in also. We are about five minutes from landing. I have already informed the rest of the crew and the press by the intercoms in those quarters.”

“Okay, and God bless us all, Commander.” She checked John’s pulse. “You okay?”

“I’ve been better, Kira. Thanks for doing what you did.”

“Like you wouldn’t have?”

“Sure, but you picked me up, and I’ve had grown men that couldn’t. I’d love to know how you did that.”

Kira resisted the urge to chuckle. If the man knew her trick, he’d probably run for the hills. Vampiric strength was a bonus for her, but something she preferred not to use around others unless she had no choice—like today.

“Plenty of exercise and vitamins, John. Now brace yourself.” Kira slipped into her seat and buckled her belt. Her acute hearing picked up the nauseating rate at which they were dropping.

“Assume crash positions, everyone.” The voice coming from the intercom was calm, but Kira picked up on more than a bit of hidden anxiety. She hated that her hands were tied by the fact that she couldn’t show any of her vampire traits. The only thing she could do was try to get Gareth and John off the plane as quickly as possible, in case of an explosion. The fuel streaming from the hole in the wing had soaked the left side of the plane, and the least bit of friction could cause a fireball.

Kira closed her eyes and sensed her surroundings. They were coming in at an unnatural angle. Probably due to the damaged wing. A vicious crack impacted her hearing. Her heart sped up. They had probably hit a tree near the edge of the landing strip. Not good, but it didn’t have to be fatal. A sudden dip, and the plane veered to the left before hitting the ground with an earthshaking thud. Kira was out of her seat before the plane stopped shaking, and was thrown immediately backward as it flipped onto its side.

Sirens sounded in the distance, and she could hear the shouts and screams coming from the press section. Located in the back of the plane, it should have been the safest place to sit, but at the moment, Kira wasn’t laying any bets that any of them were safe. The sickening smell of petroleum combined with the sweet scent of blood assaulted her nostrils. Someone was hurt, hopefully not badly.

The desk in the office careened forward, jerked loose from cement floor anchors, and slid toward the sofa. Gareth’s head jerked up, and his gaze met Kira’s before he glanced at what was coming toward him at an incredible speed.

Kira threw herself at Gareth and John, almost lying across their laps as she prepared to take the brunt of the desk.

“Kira, no!”

The impact took her breath away, and one edge of the desk cut into her back with a sickening rip. As she held the desk back, the lights in the cabin blinked off, the sirens sounded louder, and smoke began to filter in through the vents.

Not good.

Kira pushed back, and the desk reversed directions, gliding back to its original position. She eased to her feet. “Are you all right, Mr. President?”

“Are you crazy? What possessed you to fling yourself in front of that desk?”

So much for a thank-you. “It’s my job, Mr. President. Now, I have to check on John. We need to get off this thing before it explodes. And forget about making sure everyone else gets off. This is not a ship. You have to survive to lead the country.”

“We’ll discuss this later, but I agree we need to get off.”

Kira’s breath whooshed out in an exhalation of relief. Thank God, she didn’t have to pick Gareth up and tote him off, too. It would be stretching a mortal’s imagination that she had gotten that much strength from exercise.

“I’m ready. Please stay behind me, Mr. President.”

The corridor outside the president’s office was dark. Smoke filled the passageway with a thick gray fog. Kira inhaled. The gasoline smell was stronger. There was not a lot of time left to get off the plane before it blew.

She fought her way through the smoke. “Mr. President?”

“Right behind you, Kira.”

Good, the man was stubborn, but not stupid. The stairway to the cockpit wavered in a smoky haze. Maybe they should go up and hope the rescue team could get them out that way.

Kira used her free hand, the one not holding John, to feel for the iron banister. She should have been right at the spot where it should be. The cloud of smoke obscured her vision, even with her vampire senses. Her hand struck something hard and jagged. She followed the length and wanted to cry. The staircase was a twisted mass of metal.

* * * *

Gareth almost plowed right into Kira as his agent stopped so quickly. She must have eyes like a cat. He couldn’t see a foot in front of him. “What’s wrong, Kira?”

“Our closest escape is gone. The stairway took more than a hard hit when we landed. We have to keep moving if we’re going to get out. I just hope they can get the cockpit crew to safety. It’s quite a bit of a jump to the ground level.”

“Maybe I should—”

“There’s no way you can get up to the upper level. The metal is not only warped but beginning to warm up, which means we have a fire somewhere. So, for now, we have to keep going forward and try to get out by way of the stairs near the security and press section.”

“Kira?”

“What?”

Gareth ignored her snappish tone. For heaven’s sake, the woman was toting a two-hundred-pound man on her shoulder, and it was damn hot and uncomfortable.

“I just wanted to say thank you.”

Gareth came even with her, and Kira whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Her blue gaze glistened, probably due to the smoke, and the irises and the rims of her eyes were red. He expected his looked the same way. “It’s okay. Let’s just get the hell out of here.”

The smile she gave him made Gareth want to shout, but he’d save that emotion for another time—if there was one.

“Why don’t you let me take John for a bit? Give you a break.”

“I’m fine, sir. It shouldn’t be much farther.”

Kira moved forward once more, and he followed her—not a position he liked or was used to. Always, he’d taken point in battles and in his presidential campaign.

They passed by the staff section and other compartments. All were empty. Knowing Sheltie, he’d already ushered everyone to the next exit. They continued to the guest section of the plane, moving at a snail’s pace. Gareth’s shirt stuck to his back with sweat, and his eyes burned like the devil. He tried his best not to inhale by holding his dirty shirtsleeve close to his mouth and nose. Poor Kira didn’t have that luxury.

“It’s here, sir.” Kira stopped and waited on Gareth to close ranks with her. Members of the press were exiting down the stairway as fast as the smoke would allow. Some still spoke into their cell phones. A few helped others traverse the almost invisible steps, and one or two stopped to stare at Gareth, Kira, and John before exiting.

Before they could move forward, Commander Bartlett and the rest of the crew from up top came to a halt behind Gareth.

“How did you get down?”

“Well, to tell you the truth, sir, we took a fire extinguisher, slicked the rails, and then slid down until we hit bottom.”

Gareth’s chuckle was raspy as he slapped Bartlett on the back. “Okay, everyone, off the plane now.”

“Not until you go, Mr. President. We are pulling up the rear.”

“No, you’re not. What you can do is get John off and give Kira some rest, since she won’t allow me share the load. Get her off, and yourselves, and I’ll be right behind you. I assume the football is already off and safe?” Football was code for the satchel that the president always had with him, and which contained a nuclear war plan.

“Yes, it and its keeper were the first off. Just as you’ve always ordered in case of an emergency.”

“Good! Kira, give John to the commander, and get the hell off this plane.”

Kira handed John off to two of the cockpit crewmen who stepped forward. She smiled briefly at John before turning back to Gareth. “I believe I am still agent on watch, and if you don’t want me to pick you up like I did John, I suggest you move your butt, sir.”

Bartlett guffawed at her words, and Gareth saw red. No way in hell was he going to let his agent carry him anywhere. “Fine, have it your way, Agent Jackson. Commander, if you will lead the way, Kira and I will bring up the rear.”

Gareth kept pace with her as they moved quickly down the stairs to the open hatch door and the evacuation slide. He gave Kira a stern look, one she must have understood, for they both jumped at the same time. A moment later, they were being hauled to their feet by an almost ashen-faced Malachi and Commander Bartlett.

As a unit, all four of them moved away from the plane. They’d barely cleared the tarmac perimeter when a whooshing sound came from behind them. It was all the warning they had before the plane ignited and blew up, tossing Gareth, Kira, and the rest of their entourage fifty yards forward onto patchy brown grass.

SATURDAY RECAP!

Wow, did the week fly by or what?  So I started my first week back to school and no, I’m not caught up yet…lol.  But I plan to be.  It’s been an exercise in caution to juggle everything I need to do, but the Lord will help me, and for that I am indeed grateful.

I have enjoyed five consecutive hours of “Chopped,” I love that cooking show, and then I watched “Outlander,” on Demand.  Claire’s story seems even more dramatic and heart-wrenching watching it on television.  I love the references to herbs, and how she stood up to the priest.

As I said last week, there is definitely something about a Highlander in a kilt that is so hot, but I don’t have to tell ya’ll that.  So, if you could go back in time, which era and place would you go to?  There are a lot of awesome places I’d love to visit.  Perhaps Scotland, Ireland, and England might be some of the spots I’d want to hang out in.  Not sure how long I could stay in medieval times without my Wifi or without air conditioning, but it would be fun to find out. 

Perhaps I would go back to a time when my parents were alive and ask them all the questions I can’t ask now.  So, where would you go and when?

Have an awesome week!