HB: Yeah. And she’s the one with the password to the computer. She thinks, pansy-boy here, will give it away for a belly rub.
SPAL: ***shoos his paws in the air*** I wouldn’t do that. You’re more inclined than I am since you’ll do anything for a treat.
HB: I don’t think so.
SPAL: We’ll see about that in a few seconds. Today, we’re supporting, Indie Author Lisa Olsen. I believe she has self-published 10 books all together within the last two years.
HB: Yeah. She’s Mummsy’s hero. ***waves to Lisa*** Hi, Lisa! ***He jumps up and down.**** Where’s the nosh!?
SPAL: Oh, brother. Here we go again.
HB: Hey, nice lady. What do you like to snack on when you’re writing? Can you tell me why you like it.
LO: I’m afraid I don’t snack a whole lot while writing, the better to keep my fingers free for typing. Most of the time I’m chewing gum, Doublemint.
HB: I want some. Sir Poops chews Mummsy’s gum all the time. He sneaks in her purse. One time he got it stuck on his butt.
LO: And you know better than to ask if you can share, silly pooch.
SPAL: Yeah. Stupid.
LO: But on the occasion that I do get the munchies and can take a break, I like to eat saltines and peanut butter, or goldfish crackers. Jiff makes these little to-go packs of peanut butter, easy for dipping crackers in. I might be persuaded to share a little of that in exchange for something. Do either of you do any tricks?
SPAL: I can communicate telepathically and I love watching TV and YouTube. I know how to beg until Mummsy turns on the TV.
HB: My trick is better. I always let Mummsy go first when she says, “Ladies first” and I’m learning how to drive the Jetta. Mummsy shows me every morning. Anwyay, is your snack crunchy or soft?
LO: Crunchy for the crackers and soft on the peanut butter. The best of both worlds.
SPAL: How about salty or sweet?
LO: A little salty and a little sweet.
HB: Does it get your creative juices flowing?
LO: The gum keeps me going, I’d say it gets the creative juices flowing.
SPAL: Smart peeps chew gum, stupid. She’s smart like me and Mummsy. I bet she has a fur-peep, too. Nice lady, do you have any fur or feathered-peeps you like to share your nosh with?
LO: My cat, Mimsy likes to steal goldfish crackers when she thinks I’m not looking. In exchange, she keeps my feet warm. It’s a fairly good arrangement.
HB: I keep my Mummy’s feet warm, too.
SPAL: Does Mimsy help you write like we help our Mummsy write? She says we’re her muses.
LO: Mimsy doesn’t like to write, her attention span is much too short and she thinks humans are far too serious most of the time. But she did manage to hop into my series about fallen angels. There she made friends with a demon over a plate of smoked salmon. She does like to play fetch, by the way, so you might get along if you can get past the whole cat thing.
SPAL: I was raised by cats. But stupid here, might chase her. Do you have any published books out there that your pets helped you with?
LO: As I said, Mimsy hopped into my The Fallen series, making an appearance in Angel of Mercy, Mercy for the Wicked, Mercy for the Damned and Child of Mercy. She’s also watched with curiosity while I wrote The Touch, Pretty Witches All in a Row, Moonsong, Nine Steps to Sara and my Forged Bloodlines vampire series: Wake Me When the Sun Goes Down, Meet Me When the Sun Goes Down, and Find Me When the Sun Goes Down.
Here’s a link to my page on Amazon Author Central where you can find them all:
Please share an excerpt from your work in progress if you haven’t published anything yet.
Here’s an except from my latest release, Find Me When the Sun Goes Down (Forged Bloodlines #3) between newbie vampire, Anja and her sexy, vampire cop, Bishop, who has just been transferred to England.
Bishop came back about an hour before dawn and completed the rest of his packing, stowing more guns in the case than underwear.
“I’m pretty sure they have guns in England too.” Didn’t they? It seemed like the Order would have just as many toys for him to play with there, more even, with it being the big HQ.
“I like to be prepared,” he shrugged, laying his 9mm on the breakfast bar next to the case.
I was tired, feeling the sun creeping higher in the sky even though the shutters were locked up tight, but there was one thing I still wanted to talk to him about before he left. “You know we never really talked about what it means that you’ve claimed me.”
“It means what it sounds like.” Bishop stripped off his shirt and I watched the ripple of muscles in fascination as he undressed the rest of the way. “I’ve claimed you as my woman, you belong to me.”
The words cut through the haze of hormones surging at the casual striptease. “Like a Buick?”
Bishop chuckled, tossing his clothes away in the hamper in the closet. Neat until the end. “You’re under my protection. I’ve publicly proclaimed that you’re off limits.”
That didn’t sound so bad. “As in off the market? Like going steady?”
“It’s… a little deeper than that.”
“Like… we’re married?”
Bishop swallowed. “It’s… different from marriage. It’s its own thing. The ties that bind us together, they’re not so lightly broken.”
No complaints from me there.
“Also, no one else can taste you without my permission.”
“Interesting.” I quirked a single brow at him. “Any other body parts of mine you have ownership over besides my blood?”
“I’d be happy to show you,” he grinned wolfishly, sweeping me up into his arms. I barely felt him lay me back against the bed, I was too distracted by all the other interesting sensations going on between the cool sheets.
Bishop seemed bent on leaving me with a lasting impression to hold me through the time we’d be apart, and I had zero complaints with him claiming ownership to any part of my body when he treated it with such reverence and delight. I had a feeling it might have gone on much, much longer, but I was so tired after the sun rose, I couldn’t keep my eyes open.
I snuggled up beside him, falling into our natural sleeping position with my head tucked against his shoulder, fingers tracing the light dusting of hair across his chest. “You belong to me too, right?” It seemed an important distinction to make before sleep claimed me for the day.
“Definitely,” Bishop sighed contentedly, his fingers trailing across my back.
“And Jakob… Do you think he’s really accepted this?”
Bishop stiffened at the mention of my Sire. “He said he did, but… he could change his mind at any time. The Ellri have no laws to bind them.”
“Then you think there might be a chance that Jakob could be behind the transfer?”
“No, I don’t.” I relaxed at his reply. If Bishop wasn’t worried, I wouldn’t borrow trouble over it either. “He’d kill me if he changed his mind.”
Cool beans. Nothing to worry about at all…
SPAL: This was really good. Now I get why Mummsy loves your stuff.
HB: To everyone else, thanks for stopping by.
Lots of licks,
Sir Poops and Hair Ball