Sunday, August 31, 2014

Sunday Snog #139: Last Dance

For this traditional last weekend of summer, I've got a snog taken from Last Dance, a nostalgic tale about summer romance. You can find the full story in the free reading section of my website.

Don't forget to visit Blisse Kiss Central after you've savored this kiss. You'll find lots more Sunday snogs to keep your heart beating faster than normal.

"Please don't cry, Jen."

A male voice, full of warmth. A strong hand on her shoulder. Jen turned to the source, blinking to clear her vision. A young man stood beside her, dressed in a brown uniform she didn't recognize. His straight black hair was parted on the side. His even-featured face wore an expression of concern. Something tickled the back of her brain, some vague sense of familiarity.

"Do I know you?" she asked. She must look horrible, she realized, with her eyes swollen and her skin blotchy. She sniffled and stood straighter.

"Well, not exactly." His grin made him look more boyish. He had a cleft chin, she noticed, and dimples in his pale cheeks. "It's complicated." He laughed, and Jen discovered she couldn't help joining him.

"What do you mean, complicated?" she continued when her giggles subsided. Something about her companion made her feel totally at ease.

"I'll explain later," he said. He brought his hand out from behind his back. Between his thumb and forefinger he grasped the stem of a single red rose. "For you, sweet Jennifer. A token of my esteem."

How did he know her name? She took the blossom. Its heady perfume surrounded them. "Thank you. But if we've never met..." she began.

"I'm Daniel," he interrupted. "You can call me Dan." He leaned on the rail next to her, gazing out over the lake. "It's lovely here, isn't it? Even with the music, there's a quiet calm that's healing to the soul."

Jen didn't answer. It didn't feel necessary. On the opposite shore, the amusements twinkled like a faraway galaxy.

"In the old days, there was a dance pavilion here on the point. On summer nights like this it would be crowded with couples of all ages, from seventeen to seventy. The trolleys brought us here from town. The whole place was strung with lights. It was a fairy land."

Daniel took her hand. It felt so natural that she scarcely noticed. She was caught up in the picture he was painting of a happier past.

"The orchestra played from dusk until midnight. Admission was a nickel. Over there" -- he pointed toward a clump of trees to their left-- "they sold refreshments: sweet corn, lemonade and shaved ice with syrup..."

"The night we met," he said, slipping his arm around her shoulder, "I bought you a raspberry ice. It made your lips purple. I just had to kiss you..."

Just like that, he did. His mouth was gentle but Jen still felt the passion as he pressed his body against hers. Strange electricity sparked between them. He kept his mouth closed. Wanting more, wanting to taste him, Jen teased the seam where the lips met. He relaxed and allowed her to entangle their tongues. Pulling her to his chest, he ran his hands down her back to her waist. Her nipples peaked under her thin dress. She rubbed them against the odd, rough-woven fabric of his shirt. Between her thighs she began to melt.

The kiss made her dizzy. Perhaps she wasn't getting enough oxygen. The world spun around them, but there was no chance of her falling. Daniel held her, strong and secure.

Gradually the whirling ceased. Dan brushed his lips against hers one last time, then drew back. His left hand rested between her shoulder blades. The other held hers, out to the side. Jen became aware of music. She clutched his belt as he led her in a sprightly waltz.

They moved together across the floor of an octagonal pavilion, its wooden roof supported by carved pillars. Strands of bright bulbs sparkled overhead, radiating from the center to the periphery. Other couples danced around them, the women in tunics and slim, ankle-length skirts, the men wearing cuffed trousers and waistcoats or uniforms like Dan's. She felt the fabric of her own skirt fluttering around her calves.

"How...where...what's going on, Daniel?" She looked up into his warm brown eyes. His ripe lips curved into a smile and those adorable dimples winked at her.

"Never mind, my sweet. Just dance with me."

He led her with grace and confidence. Jen found that if she simply relaxed into his arms, following was effortless. As the music slowed, he held her closer. A hard bulk at his groin pressed against her belly. Languid arousal washed over her in waves. I must be dreaming, she thought. She never wanted the dream to end.

They swayed together. Jen closed her eyes, breathing in his scent of fresh-cut wood and lavender. When she leaned her head on his chest, she could hear his heart, strong and regular. She felt their breathing synchronize.

The waltz went on forever. Then the music stopped. The lights went dark. They still stood, holding each other, at the center of the floor. The orchestra and the other dancers had disappeared.

The summer wind ruffled Jen's hair. The forest stirred around the deserted pavilion.

"Come home with me, Daniel," she whispered. He answered with a kiss, sweeping her back into her voluptuous dream-state.

Saturday, August 30, 2014

Being an Author: The Good and the Bad

By NJ Nielsen (Guest Blogger)

I would like to start off if I may by introducing myself. My name is N.J. Nielsen and I’m an author. I started writing when I was 12 years old… not because I aspired to be an author when I grew up—more for the fact that my dad had just died and my mum was a tad clingy, that and I never really went anywhere. Writing let me escape my—as I thought back then—boring life.

As the years went on I dabbled here and there but never really gave much thought to submitting anything. That all changed the day my daughter was diagnosed with idiopathic thrombocytopenic purpura (more commonly known as ITP) which basically means an unknown disease of the blood—if they don’t know how it started they basically can’t fix it. When my daughter was in high school she was in and out of hospital and for a while things weren’t looking too good (I should add that after a splenectomy she is doing much better). We were sitting in the oncology waiting room and my daughter asked me to write her a story… after a few weeks some of the other patients we saw a lot also were avid listeners as I wrote weekly chapters… The story was The Lines Of Marsden 1: Rules Are Meant To Be Broken.

Still, I wasn’t going to submit anything until one day I tried looking something up on line about a book I wanted to read and ended up in a chat room (did I mention that techno savvy I am not). There I met a man (get your minds out of the gutter) he soon became my beta reader and helped me research publishing houses. That was four years ago and still to this day James A is still my beta reader (he also fixes up most of my punctuation errors).

So after a lot of humming and harrying I decided: what the hell, I’ll give it a shot. The worst thing that can happen is they’ll say no. You could have knocked me down with a feather when MLRPress welcomed me aboard. I still pinch myself sometimes—just to make sure it’s real.

I currently have fifteen books out, three of which are free reads. I have many more in the process of being written. I have been asked a few times why do I write? I always counter—why do I breathe? The answer is simple: because I have to. I love being able to escape into another world for a few hours a day as crazy as it might seem to me my characters are real. This could be because that there is a little bit of me in all of my characters or they have bits and pieces of family and friends.

I’m lucky that I have a support system with my family and friends who not only encourage me to write, but a quite eager to send me pictures of character inspiration or ideas they think might work. I’m also lucky that everyone knows what I do or they would think I was continually having affairs by the amount of times I’ve called my husband by whatever character’s name I’m writing at the time.

I’m a big believer in if you feel the urge to pick up a pen, or even sit in front of a computer and write, then do it you never know where the experience my lead you. If you had have asked me a couple of years ago if this is what I’d be doing today I would have laughed and said, “Don’t be ridiculous.” In fact when I was younger I wanted to join the army—instead I now know I was always meant to be an author.

My Motto: As long as I make one reader happy then my mission was a success.

What do I love about writing the most? For me I totally enjoy bringing each and every character to life. I love figuring out all their little idiosyncrasies. I love designing where they live, work, wear. Working who their friends are and how they fit into the story line. In having said that I have to admit that I am not a plotter. I’m one of those people who sit in front of the computer each day and writes whatever falls out of my head. I’m also one of those people that works on about three or four stories at a time. I just work on whichever one takes my fancy on each day. I also work on my computer during the day and then quite often work in longhand at night on a completely different story.

There are good and bad points to being an author and for me here are ten:

Good: I get to share with the world all the stories that reside inside my head. Getting them out means I ca finally let more in.

Bad: It’s nerve wracking waiting to see if you get accepted or rejected.

Good: People get to know you through your stories (I have met some wonderful & likeminded people).

Bad: Spelling all over the world is different and I quite often mix them up.

Good: While researching for stories I like finding out new facts.

Bad: I quite often get distracted while researching (stay away from Youtube—bad N.J.)

Good: I get to look at beautiful pictures for hours on end all in the name of research/inspiration (that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it).

Bad: I sometimes mix the character’s up in my stories and don’t even realise (suggestion keep files on everything—especially, on how each character looks).

Good: Writing is a stress release.

Bad: The doing edits stage can sometimes cause said stress.

Even with the bad points I would never give up writing—I enjoy it so much. Now that I have rambled on I’d like to thank you all for listening. I should probably tell you a little about my latest releases… Yes I have two

Blurb: Toowoomba Boys 3: Dancing With Demons
When opposites attract the result can be life changing.

Graham Davenport is trying to better his life. His whole world crashes the day he’s told Damon's missing, and he’s the main suspect—could life get any worse?

Damon Malone was kidnapped, he has no clue why, and his captor isn’t talking. Beaten and bruised he waits to be rescued—fearing he might die.

Working together with detectives, Graham realises there’s more to the story than a simple kidnapping. Will they find the answers in time or will everything be too late? Graham changes his whole life to help Damon fight his demons—in the process will he conquer his own?

Blurb: The Connelly Chronicles 1: Family Connections
Ray and Viv realise love isn’t always what they expect it to be, but learning to deal with the road ahead can be worth the heartache.

Thrown into circumstances beyond their imaginations, Ray Connelly and Christopher ‘Viv’ Vivvens must step beyond their personal lifestyles to survive the future. What started out as a small white lie about being boyfriends soon becomes more than they bargained for, especially when family and friends decide to interfere in their lives. However, when tragedy strikes, Ray and Viv must step up and become parents, too. Along the way, they welcome nine children of varying ages, but there is plenty of love to go around.

Ray and Viv realise love isn’t always what they expect. Sometimes it’s downright hard. They also learn that dealing with life’s obstacles can be worth the heartache. In doing so, the couple discover how strong they are together.

When everything is running smoothly, an ex comes along to ruin their happily ever after. They must fight their past demons to make their future even better. Together they are family in the greatest sense, but do Ray and Viv have what it takes to beat the odds this time? 

Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes of dubious consent. It is best read in sequence as part of a series.

Publisher's Note: This book was previously released by another publisher. It has been revised and re-edited for release with Totally Bound Publishing.

You can fine N.J. Nielsen Here

Friday, August 29, 2014

Who Doesn’t Want a Man Brought to His Knees by Love?

By Sabrina York (Guest Blogger)

I was thrilled when my latest venture, the Hot Alpha SEALs Megaset, hit the New York Times and USA Today Bestseller lists and I am very excited about my next release, a collection of steamy stories about men brought to their knees by love. Check out a taste of my story, and read on for more teasers from the collection.

Brought to his Knees Box Set
Eleven Scorching Stories for 99¢
The Alpha male. Strong. In control. Letting no one and nothing rule him…until he meets the one, and all bets are off. The world tilts, the bed rocks, and suddenly that tough guy finds himself Brought to His Knees—in more ways than one. This collection of ten hot to erotic novellas and one short erotic novel will take you on journeys of lust, love, and adventure, leave you breathless and quite possibly in need of a cold shower. Enter with anticipation. Finish satisfied…

By Sabrina York

Dane Coulter is mourning the loss of his best friend, fellow Special Ops buddy, Cody. Oh, Cody didn’t die. It’s worse. He’s getting married. Cody is, in Dane’s opinion, whipped.

Dane swears he will never suffer the same fate. But when he meets a woman who can take all his dominant loving and beg for more, he realizes he may have met his match. It’s a damn shame she’s the one woman in the world his man-code deems untouchable…his best friend’s sister.

Read an Excerpt (18+ Only, Please—this is steamy stuff)

He was bigger than he’d been in high school. Bigger, taller and just…more. His muscles, lacquered by a tight black tee shirt, bulged. Tattoos danced over his biceps. The planes of his face were angled. High cheekbones, dark brows, long blade of a nose all the same, but sharper. His eyes hadn’t had those shadows back then either, that predatory glint. His hair—his thick mop of curls—was gone, shaved off, revealing the perfect shape of his head. His chin, however, wasn’t shaved. It was covered by a smattering of dark fuzz. A scar on his cheek, rather than detracting from his looks, made him even more fascinating, dangerous.

And he smelled…delicious. As he moved, his cologne, a clean enticing scent, enveloped her in a cloud.

Oh, he was dangerous all right.

She didn’t care.

The slight buzz from the margaritas at the bachelorette party, the sexual sizzle ignited by the strippers who’d burst in on their party wearing camo fatigues with rip-away crotches, all contributed to her bravado.

In real life she would never hook arms with some random guy and sashay by his side to his room. But hell. This was Dane. The man of her fantasies. And, judging from the hunger in his expression as he looked down at her, the heat that passed between them where they touched, he wanted her.

Thank God she wasn’t still the dorky teen with braces she’d been when they’d last met.
She looked amazing tonight. He happened to wander by and notice her. No one else was around. And he wanted her.

It was as though, somehow, magically, all the stars had aligned.

There was no way—no way—she would miss this opportunity.

Excitement danced low in her gut as he swiped his room key and led her into his suite. It was a nice suite—not as sumptuous as Angie’s, but nice all the same—with a small sitting area and an enormous king bed. The windows looked out on the sparkling lights of the City that Never Slept. Or one of them.

Can I get you a drink?” he asked, taking off his watch and dropping it on the table by the door. It drew her attention to his forearms, thick and muscled and sprinkled with dark hairs. They were roped with thick veins. She’d always had a thing for bulky forearms. And she’d always had a thing for Dane. The combination was irresistible.
She tipped her head to the side and blew a bubble with her gum. “Margarita?”

He waved at the glossy wood armoire against the wall. “I have a mini bar. It’ll have to be shots. What’s your poison?”

Tequila then.” Might as well keep a good thing going.

He hunkered down and searched through the fridge, pulling out a tiny bottle of tequila for her and whiskey for him. He cracked them open and dumped them unceremoniously into two glasses and handed her hers. No ice or anything.

Good thing it didn’t matter to her, or she’d be pissed at his cavalier attitude. The drink was lubricant, a time filler. They were dancing around a seduction, and they both knew it.


Apparently seduction was not necessary. Because Dane took a swig of his drink and said, with no preface whatsoever, “So do you have any no-nos?”

She gaped at him. “No-nos?”

Anything you won’t do? Because I’ll be frank. I like a little kink.”

Holy God.

First of all, the heat scorching her was mind-numbing. Literally. Mind. Numbing. Those brash words from Dane’s gorgeous lips and she nearly lost her balance.

Second of all—he liked kink.

So, in fact, did she. Nothing super dark, but a little slap and tickle for sure.

Um…” She took a sip of her drink. She shuddered as the harsh bite of liquor burned through her. It clashed with the flavor of her gum. “What kind of kink are we talking about?”

He strode to his suitcase and fished around, pulling out a long leather strap with two loops on the ends. Her eyes fixated on it. She shuddered.

I want to tie you up,” he said, his voice low, taunting, as though he expected her to squeak like a mouse and scuttle from the room.

The. Fuck.

Hmm. I think I can handle that.”

I’ll probably smack your bottom.”

Also good. She tried not to flinch in anticipation. His hand on her ass? Gawd.

I won’t hurt you, though. I’m not into that. And of course, I’ll use protection.” He held up a pack of condoms.

Well da-ham. He’d come prepared. A smile curled on her lips.

Billy said your fee’s been paid.” His brow quirked.

The smile froze on Tina’s face. A combination of horror and rage and something else altogether snarled through her, as she realized how right she’d been. Not only did he not recognize her—after knowing her her entire life, for pity sake—he thought she was a hooker.

Granted, she did kind of look like a hooker, with makeup plastered on as if with a trowel. But still…

She glanced at him from beneath the impossibly long lashes The Master had glued to her lids. Not her style, but she liked the way they looked. The way they made her feel…like someone else. Someone sultry and daring. Someone Dane would want.

To tie up and spank.

Aside from that, the temptation to have him, taste him, fuck him, ran rampant in her. For years she’d fantasized about her older brother’s best friend. All through puberty and long after that. Every man she’d met, dated or been with had been gauged against Dane Coulter. None of them had measured up.

Ah yes, the temptation to have him was overwhelming.

Not to mention how much fun it would be watching him shit a brick tomorrow, when he realized who she really was.

Too delicious to pass up, really. The whole package.

He stood there in the middle of the room, holding the strap in one hand and the condoms in the other, waiting for her reply. Though he was all Dom, she couldn’t help but notice a hint of tension in him, as though he was, on some level, afraid she’d say no and waltz away.

He wanted her. And he wanted her bad. It was the heat in his eyes that gave him away, the way they flicked over her and burned with hunger. Yeah. Irresistible.
Sure. She could be a hooker for the evening.

What people are saying about WHIPPED:

"5 Stars—Whipped by Sabrina York was so good, LOVED all the sexy scenes and then how she mixed in some humor parts. I know she's super busy but I'm really hoping she makes this one into a series because its that good :)"—Read More Romance

"5 Stars—Oh my goodness! I loved, loved, loved this story! The sex was off-the-charts hot! And I mean HOT! The characters were witty and so entertaining. As always, Ms. York's humor and witty writing is on full display. I honestly don't think she could not write a story that doesn't leave me in awe of her slightly sarcastic, yet always smartly written style. I bow to the master."— Coffee and Books

"5 Stars—This was a great read that kept me glued to the events. Loved the epilogue!"—Ms Romantic Reads

Oh and here is some inspiration for Dane & his buddies:

BROUGHT TO HIS KNEES—Available August 19th

Check out the teaser video:

More about Brought To His Knees

Dark Wolf Enterprises by A.M. Griffin: Murder, mayhem and imprinting with a hot wolf shifter… And they say being an accountant is boring.

Building Bridges by Amy Ruttan: A vet tech and a lone wolf rancher ride out a sudden storm, but can they weather the emotions they stir up in each other...

Three Strikes by Anya Richards: Two lonely men. One secret affair. Irresistible passion that will push them both to the breaking point, and beyond.

A Cowboy’s Seduction by Cynthia D’Alba: One exhausted cowboy + One uptight account x A tropical resort = A hot seduction. But who is seducing whom?

Born to Sin by Danica Avet: A tomboy in love makes a desperate attempt to seduce her best friend and succeeds beyond her wildest dreams. But this Alpha male isn’t easily tamed and has secrets that could very well tear them apart.

The Sound of Your Name by Felice Fox: Their silent erotic encounters change his luck and awaken his soul, but secrets and cowboy superstitions can only keep them apart.

Beneath the Pages by Jennifer Kacey: One wicked night with her did nothing but whet his appetite. Now he’ll settle for nothing less than her complete submission.

Cruising for Love by Lynne Silver: A vacation cruise comes with surprises—like the BDSM theme and her high school love, the one man she can’t resist.

Whipped by Sabrina York: A scalding attraction. An irresistible passion. A pity she’s the one woman he can never have…

Chief Sin by Sayde Grace: A taste of Sin isn’t enough. Instead she wants all of him, including the heart she once broke.

Make Me Surrender by Tina Donahue: When it comes to two of the hottest guys in town, she has a proposition…to win their attention, passion, hearts.

About Sabrina York

Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York, is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet & sexy to scorching erotic romance. Connect with her on twitter @sabrina_york, on Facebook or on Pintrest. Check out Sabrina’s books and read an excerpt on Amazon or wherever e-books are sold. Visit her webpage at to check out her books, excerpts and contests. Free Teaser Book: And don’t forget to enter to win the royal tiara!


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Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Storm in the Brain

By Ann Raina (Guest Blogger)

Every author has a strategy to create a story, based on an initial idea. I am lucky to have a muse who likes to play with my ideas, back and forth. She shares her comments, her thoughts and her proposals how to form a story and we have a lot of fun in all these hours of brainstorming. My muse also adds her two cents to the characters I invent and comes up with some of her own. Often she has a clearer vision of the character’s attributes than I have. She also hears me out when a scene is finished and then tells me about story flow and if there are breaks in logic. Once she took apart my whole opening scene to come up with a much better one. I take my hat off to her imagination and creative mind. Don't forget—she’s been my best friend and companion for about forty years.

Our common work—if you want to call such a fascinating hobby work—started in the year 2000. We were fans of Tolkien’s books and loved Peter Jackson’s movies. Naturally, we wrote fan fiction. The afternoon hours with coffee and cookies soon became a regular weekly event. We sat for hours, polishing scenes and thinking about one nasty twist after another. 

When I turned away from fandom to create stories and characters that played in the worlds I chose for them, my muse followed me, which is remarkable because she didn’t shy away from science fiction, erotic romance or even the elements of BDSM I included. Our afternoons have remained very fertile, always accompanied by freshly brewed coffee and homemade pastries. 

Our latest novels are the results of last summer’s hours in her garden or mine. I told her about Sidarra, the young man who wants to be much more than a simple worker, in order to impress a woman from the city. He doesn’t know that the project he joins will take him to another continent and confront him with completely alien situations. Project: Recruitment took shape in about three weeks and took two months more to write. We both loved the main characters Sidarra and Oleyni so much that I decided to write a sequel that takes the couple to the moon of Habrano. They don’t anticipate being drawn into a cruel game, in which Sidarra has to take a lot of risks to save his beloved. So Emotion Riders takes a very different approach to the couple's relationship. While the first book focuses on the development of their connection, against the odds, the second book makes clear they will stay together, even if evil opponents try to tear them apart. For the second book, my muse had many fascinating ideas concerning the obstacles Sidarra has to overcome. 

Of course, playing ping pong with ideas sometimes leads from one obscure gag to the next and we end in hilarious laughter, from which no safe return is possible. I always take notes and save those brainstorms for later. You never know when a totally absurd idea might be the right one! And the next novel is already in the making.

Here is a short excerpt from Project: Recruitment, published by eXtasy books.

After being taken to the home of Oberat, Oleyni accompanies Sidarra to a room to get him some new clothes and help him take a shower…

“I think a darker blue suits you well.” Oleyni pulled out a pullover and pants and a warm undershirt. “It might get a little too cold for you in the evening. Better wear something warm.”

“Thanks. And where—”

“Oh, washing! Yes. Come.” She showed him the adjacent room. If Sidarra had expected faucets or anything recognizable, he was disappointed. “If you drop your clothes and stand here, the water will swirl around you. Shall I show you, or do you just want to try?”

“I’ll give it a try.”

“Fine.” Oleyni folded her hands in front of her lap and watched him, waiting.

“You want to stay?”

“Do you mind? You fainted some minutes ago, and the warm water might affect your circulation again. It could be that you need help, right?” Her eyes were wide open, portraying innocent ideas.

Sidarra smiled helplessly. “You mean, you are here to lend a hand?”

“There might be spots you can’t reach, don’t you think?”

His smile blossomed to a laugh that they shared. “You are right.” He shed his shoes, pants and jacket, revealing the net around his torso. “I might need help. This is all too strange for my taste.”

“You will get used to it.” Oleyni shrugged. “I guess I would feel the same if I was in your place. Your village seems to be strange, as well. You live in huts, I heard.”

He frowned as he approached the area where he assumed the water would flow. “What do you know about Ethisan?”

“That is your village? Well, I know that the continent is less fertile than ours. You drill wells for water and most parts of the continent are hard on the people. The majority consists of farmers and herders, some teachers, too. Temperatures are of modest warmth. It does not get cold, so you don’t know snow. There is just one developing city, with companies prospering from selling machines and ground transportation vehicles as well as many different tools. Trade markets have just recently begun to stretch to foreign countries in the north. Did I forget something?”

Water poured over Sidarra’s head and shoulders. It was warm and very pleasant, washing away sweat and dust. He closed his eyes and let Oleyni’s voice become the background of the pouring water. Warm hands massaged his shoulders, gently groped through the net on his back and went on with his buttocks. He pressed both hands against the wall and enjoyed the attention, moaning. When Oleyni was done down to his feet, she used soap to wash his hair, standing on tiptoe to reach his forehead.

Sidarra was so content he woke from a dream when she slapped his butt. “I guess if you get any cleaner, you’ll be translucent.”

He turned and the water stopped. Wiping his eyes, he made a step to where she waited with a big and very soft towel. “Thank you. That was very kind of you.”

“Your muscles felt like thick roots. Is it better now?”

“Much better.” He dried his hair and body. “How did you know?”

She pursed her lips and the sparkle in her eyes revealed her mischief. Hands folded behind her body, she turned her shoulders from left to right. “Female intuition.”


And here's a rather funny scene from Emotion Riders to give you an impression of how my muse thinks…

Sidarra is on his way to find a key to save Oleyni from a prison cage. He meets a strange fellow:

Sidarra swiveled around and a stone crashed where he had lain.

“This is my well!”

A six-handed, flat creature with an astonishing human face stood close by, clad in a hard, light-brown shell and a smaller one on its head. From both sides antennae stood up as if sniffing the air. Stones lay at its feet which it was throwing with impressive speed. Sidarra skipped to the right, raising his hands in defense.

“Stop! I didn’t know it was your water!”

The next stone missed him by a hair’s width.

“You dried my well, you stupid moron!” The creature took four more stones in his flexible hands and then, frowning, lowered them. “Ah, it’s you.” He dropped the stones and waddled over to reach out a six-fingered hand to Sidarra. There were sharp spikes at the ends so Sidarra refrained from a handshake. “You come for the key, don’t you?”

Sidarra lacked an answer, too puzzled by the sudden change. He gave a brief nod and the creature crinkled its little round nose. The spikes scratched lines in the stones.

“I knew it. Come.”

Sidarra got back up and very carefully followed the flat field inhabitant on the stones where it walked, marveling at the pointed derrière. Behind the heap of stones was an entrance, but it was by far too small for the human to enter.

“Oh, big guy, hmm? Wait.” The creature, not taller than the leg of named human, vanished and rumbled through a mass of things. There was clacking and rolling and even a small thunder clap that sent up a cloud of dust. Finally, the creature surfaced and handed the still flabbergasted water thief the same key he had gotten the day before. “Here. That’s what you want, so why do you look as if you got hit by a stone?”

“I almost got hit by a stone,” Sidarra bristled.

The creature waved away the argument with four of its six hands. “Ah, almost is not hit. If I always hit, I would not need to search for food.”

“Thank you.” Sidarra kept the key in his hand. “Any idea how I get back across the canyon? The bridge collapsed.”

“Bridge? Which bridge? Ha, that sounds funny. Which bridge? Which bridge?” The creature danced around Sidarra, repeating the words in a loop.

“Stop!” Sidarra blocked its way. “Tell me, how do I get back across the canyon, through the woods to a meadow in the south?”

The creature stood and looked at the human as if he was a brick short of a load. “You turn around my home and take the flight down and up on the other side. Is that too complicated for you? Can’t you use stairs with your only two legs?”

“There are stairs?”

“Down and up. Or up and down. Depends on the matter of your coming and going.”

“There were no stairs before.”

The creature pulled a face. “Your argument is a stupid one. You have not the time to stand here and chatter like a delirious bug.”

Sidarra was stunned by the creature’s undeniable logic. “Just point the overall direction. I’ll find the stairs.”

“Thought you’d never ask.” Four arms showed him the way to leave the stony field. “Have a safe trip. I was told there are holes in the ground. Don’t break a leg. You only got two!”


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Emotion Riders

About me
Writing has been a hobby I started early and have not stopped since I was young, a time that has passed for some years. Oh, well, being beyond forty has advantages and then not. Besides writing, I love to ride, recently bought a horse, and have five cats at home. I also love to work in my garden. That’s the summer place where I re-read older manuscripts to find flaws and what more. My friends say that I’m a happy camper and I agree. Happiness can be lived if your expectations are not sky high. Carpe diem!