She tilted her face up and gently placed her lips on his . . .

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Then the calm slipped in, soothing him like the faint brush of wings or the puff of a gentle breeze after a violent storm.


#LoveLines

Topic: “Wings”

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Tidbit Tuesday: What If Santa’s What You’re Wishing For?

Fine art photo of a woman's butt

In my holiday novella, Naughty or Nice, Olivia has just finished work on Christmas Eve at the mall, and with aching feet and no real plans, her holiday could really use some cheer. As always at Christmas, Santa comes through . . .


“Uuuugh…” Olivia said with a groan as they walked through the mall to the main doors. “I can’t wait to get out of these shoes.”

Jill stretched her back. “You sure you’re not coming over?”

Olivia smiled. “I’m sure.”

“Well, if you change your mind, we’re home tonight. Tomorrow we split between his parents and mine, though.”

“Thanks, but really – I’m good.” Olivia yawned, staggering a bit on her stiletto heels.

“Ho Ho Ho, ladies!” Santa’s voice rang out from the tacky foamcore gingerbread house set up in the center of the mall. Jill waved back.

“Hey Santa! Whassup?”

“Still taking requests,” he called out. “What are you wishing for?”

“Alcohol!” Jill called back. “And a foot rub for my friend, here!”

Santa looked over at Olivia. His beard obscured his face, but she could tell he was smiling.

“Is that so?” he said.

“Yeah, but give her the kind of rub that starts at the feet and works its way up!” Jill suggested, waggling her eyebrows. “Somebody needs to unwrap her under a Christmas tree, if you know what I mean.” Continue reading

#FanFic Friday: A #OnceUponATime Thanksgiving

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Okay, I know I’m a day late, but I was busy yesterday. Hope you were, too. Anyway, I’ve always thought it would have been wonderful if Once had done a Thanksgiving episode. The writers never got around to it, so I did it for them. Here ya go.


“What in the world is that?” Killian made a face as the gelatinous blob slid out of the can.

“It’s called cranberry sauce,” Emma said. “And now we slice it.”

“A sauce, by its very nature cannot be sliced. This looks nothing like sauce.”

“It’s good. Trust me.”

“Henry!” Snow called out. “Can you get those two extra chairs from the attic? This turkey is ready.”

“Here, let me help you,” David said, clearing the counter so that Snow could set the turkey down. “Is that too heavy for you?”

“I lug a seventeen pound infant around all day, every day,” she reminded him. “I think I can handle a twelve pound turkey.” Continue reading

Tidbit Tuesday: It’s Hard To Think Straight With A Cat On Your Head

SID

In this scene from Someday In Dublin, Michael takes a late-night phone call . . .


Michael was dreaming he was wearing a large, heated hat. So large, in fact that in order to fit through the doorway, he had an emergency beacon that activated, so that everyone could clear out of the way.

He tried to step through, but the hat got stuck, pressing down on his head with punishing force as the noise of the beacon increased, bleating louder and louder until he opened his eyes and realized it as the middle of the night.

It was the middle of the night, his phone was ringing, and there was a cat on his head.

There was a cat on his head, and she wasn’t going to budge.

“Get off, you sodding feline,” he grumbled, pushing her off the pillow. He got a kick to the side of the face for that, and uttered a curse word as he fought his way out of the covers. He finally succeeded in putting his feet to the floor and stumbled over to his pants, still wadded up near the dresser. He pulled his phone from the pocket just as it stopped ringing.

“Shite!”

He swiped the screen angrily, pulling up the missed call.

Amy. Amy had called him. Continue reading

“Wow.”

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She pulled back. “Is that really the line you use? ‘We only have right now!'” she mocked. “‘Who knows what tomorrow will bring!‘”

She gave him a push and laughed as she held her free hand to her heart in a dramatic fashion. “‘We must seize this moment!‘” She sank down onto the bed, still laughing. “How many dewy-eyed women has that line scored for you, Mr. Ego? Bravo!” She clapped.


#2BitTues

Topic: “Ego”

#OnceUponATime #Fanfic Friday: Pizza And A Pleasure Cruise

memorykeeper

In my Once Upon A Time fanfic, The Memory Keeper, we find ourselves in the middle of season 3, just after Killian arrives in New York, determined to help Emma get her memories back. This story features a very different take on the Wicked Witch, and a very different method for retrieving Emma’s memories – and making  some new ones.

In this scene, Killian cajoles Emma into joining him for a night on the Jolly Roger – where he hopes to break down the walls that she’s so determined to hide behind, and get her memories of her former life back on track.


“Let me guess…” Emma mused, taking a drink of her rum and Coke. “You’re a royal. Not one of the famous ones, maybe somebody with a lesser title. You came into your inheritance and you’re hiding out from the paparazzi.”

What the hell was a paparazzi? Hook had no idea.

“You’re very astute,” he said, in a non-committal way. There. That wasn’t an outright lie. She was astute, and it was going to cause trouble if he didn’t find something else for her to talk about.

“And you’re very cryptic,” She replied, raising a brow. “Did you besmirch some girl’s honor, or something?”

“Many times over, as I recall. But not recently.” He leaned back on one elbow. “And what about you? How is it you haven’t found love yet?” Continue reading