a Rafflecopter giveaway

So there I was, innocently making some food for my troupe of kids, and I thought, “Since I suck at cooking and I’m bored watching food cook, where’s my Kindle? I have a Jackie Barbosa novella to read.”

Holy. Shit. People.

Can I just say how much I LOVED “The Lesson Plan”?

Now, I do love my historicals, but I must admit, I don’t actually keep track of all historical errors and such, so any classification errors in this particular review are mine, not Jackie’s. As you can tell from my excitement, Jackie is awesome.

So, where was I, oh yes, telling you why you should go and get this novella.

“The Lesson Plan” is an erotic Regency romance about Winifred “Freddie” Langston, indulged tomboy daughter of a Viscount, who at the nigh on ancient age of 21 is about to face her first season in London. Now, don’t think she’s been mistreated or anything. Freddie has managed to worm her way out of going to London for years, but now that her father has passed, her oldest brother, Nash, has come to the conclusion that the girl needs to grow up and get on with her life like a lady should. Which means not walking around in boy’s clothes with her twin brother and best friend from the neighbor’s house. She shouldn’t be scheming or improper and she sure as hell shouldn’t be heading out to a brothel to find out what all the fuss is about.

Now, onto the hero, Conrad Pearce, whom—by the way, I may fantasize about for quite a long time because I LOVES me some uptight, secretly highly sexed heroes, if you know what I mean. (And I KNOW you know what I mean). Con has an unholy desire for Freddie, which he hides as far down as possible because a) you don’t think about proper ladies like that and b) there was no way her brother, who was one of his best friends, would ever let him live if he knew that Con was thinking of thinking of her that way. Nevertheless, when Con discovers and relays to Nash what Freddie’s plans are, he can’t believe that instead of locking her in her room, Nash comes up with a completely other idea for stopping Freddie from ruining herself and her family by possibly getting caught in a brothel. Nash wants Con to portray a highwayman and hold Freddie “hostage” for a few hours to teach her that it’s not a safe world out there.

Well, Freddie learns something all right…

I’d tell you more, but I’m not ruining a second of it for you. Get the book. Thank me later. AFTER your cigarette.

Related Book You Can Bet Your Ass I’ll Be Reading Next:

Also, she’s planning two more in the series for Freddie’s twin brother and her best friend, so be watching for those in 2012!

I don’t know about you, but I generally am freezing at Christmas time. It’s the time of year that I get to snuggle in every blanket I own, down gallons of hot tea and just about make love to my ereader–Psst, even when I’m not supposed to!

So I thought, hey, if I’m doing it, surely there are others out there in need of a little Christmas reading, right? And why be a little warmer…when you can be a LOT warmer?

So here they are, my holiday offerings to inspire and amuse you for the cozy season! I hope you enjoy!

Available From:

Available Now!

His best friend’s wedding just turned into the craziest hangover ever…

Kane Wilkensen’s buddy was about to marry the girl of Kane’s dreams. Which would have been fine—heartbreaking but fine—if Kane hadn’t woken up in a Las Vegas honeymoon suite with her, a giant sack of money and a great big blank spot in both their memories first.

SPACE
SPACE
SPACE
SPACE
SPACE
SPACE
SPACE
SPACE
SPACE

Available From:

Available Now!

Crusty sheriff Cade Evigan doesn’t date convicts, not even ones as irresistible as Katrina “K.K.” Killian. When the crap hits the fan and the case she’s been working on for two years cracks wide open, Katrina heads for the hills to protect the man she cares about most. But some temptations are impossible to resist and she knows if she stays with Cade for the night, odds are her cover isn’t the only thing getting blown…

SPACE
SPACE
SPACE
SPACE
SPACE
SPACE
SPACE

Now, many of you didn’t know I was planning to write a self-pub novella, so it came as a great big shock when I put up the cover on Twiter earlier this week. There was much excitement, too–though I have to say, I think most of that was generated by the fact that the cover is–unashamedly–quite awesome. See?

But like all things that are great, it didn’t start off that way. In fact, without the much appreciated, sage advice from the lovely–and cover savvy–Maya Banks, this would have been a much different cover. Which is why I send all my covers to her for us to pick over like vultures, lol. She’s the only one I know that looks at covers more myopically than me. She has an intrinsic understanding of that underlying cover-language I’m always going on about. Incidentally, she also pulls no punches, so a hero who could be misconstrued as a serial killer ain’t getting past Maya’s keen eye. Also, there’s much laughter to be had when you have a cover concept and the hero looks like a fetal JFK. (Not that I’ll ever divulge where FJFK came from, lol, just rest easy knowing that he is looooooong gone.)

At any rate, it took me more than a week of searching when I could for possible hot guys to be the cover for “10 Ways To Steal Your Lover”–which stars a blond rancher with a delicious musculature, but not the hugely muscley kind. He’s lean and he’s real. You can lay on him naked and not be afraid that his cut muscles will dent you or slice off anything when friction is applied. I went through hundreds of images and here are a few that caught my eye.

When I did finally find the hero of my dreams, I got right to work and did my very best not to lick the screen. (No, I’m not telling if I succeeded or not, lol)

So, I finished my cover concept for my upcoming self-pub and while I’m 98% happy with it, I’m not releasing it until I can get a hold of Maya–who, you know, has a life and is occasionally not home for me to assault with cover madness. But, 98% happy is good, right? Right? You judge:

I knew something wasn’t quite right and I was brooding over dusting out the veiny skin above the heroes right hip. Cuz let me tell you, it was bugging me. But some chicks find that sexy. (Someone explain that to me, please!)

Then, around 8pm my time, Maya comes online and I–of course–pounce with hot man flesh. So, after checking if this is a pub book or my own (I could practically HEAR her sigh of relief when I said it was mine and we could toy to our hearts content) she says, “No. I hate it. That stripe is not working.”

Can you hear the sleeves rolling up? Cause they did. Now, she had valid concerns. I had checked with my other friend, Fatin (@Mad4RomBks) and she thought the stripe made the hero look like he had a malfunctioning tanner and the poor guy had a white stripe on him but an opaque stripe under the text meant hiding the incredibly hot guy under a slab of paint. So, I went for more opaque, but Maya said, how about you try…this:

She felt it looked more professional–it does–but cutting off half the hot guy still wasn’t working for me. We needed another opinion. Maya turns to her hubby and asks him which is better. He agreed with her, the solid white looked better. So, I turn to my hubby and ask him what he thinks. He thinks there’s a way we can both be happy and says, Try…THIS:

Yeah…we were both happy saying no. Something about it just didn’t work. Maya hated that his pants just disappear—it’s ok, I giggled at that being a complaint too–but we both agreed that the pink body outline just wasn’t appealing. Still, Maya liked the splash of pink and thought it was a good idea to try something with it. Like maybe, this:

Meh. Pink and Red are only friends in Christmas candy. But then Maya says, turn the red to pink. Like…HOT pink. And isn’t this cover screaming for a lipstick kiss? And actually, I chose the color fonts to look a bit like they were written in scripty lipstick, so we were totally on the same page and like an explosion of happy, we combined all our ideas into…this:

Finally, we were happy! You know, for like ten minutes. As you can see on this page, the cover kind of blends into the white on the outside. And the stark white against the hot guy is just…well, stark. Since we already had the lines, when she suggested it, I was already on it and we got to this:

Better, no blending, but the thickness was wrong. And the number and my name looked cut off. Not good. So, some final tweaks and…Voila! A final cover to drool over!

So what have we learned to day?

A) Maya Banks is a cover goddess

B) Dee will do just about anything for a quality cover.

C) If you go to http://www.istockphoto.com , you can create your own mantastic gift-wrap for your very bestists friends.

D) Yes, sometimes it does take a village to raise a cover.

E) All of the above

LOL! What do you think?
Dee

In classic Hollywood, they wanted to tell wondrous stories of distant lands or exotic, dangerous characters. Of course, in classic Hollywood, the closest thing to an ethnic actor was an ethnic hairdresser or janitor helping out on the set. Thus, most ethnic characters were played by blue eyed, painted actors who had more shine than the Packards they drove home.

In case you were wondering, yes, that really sucked.

So it was really amazing when not only did an ethnic actor show up in mainstream–the awesome Jay Silverheels–but he was actually the correct ethnicity! I’m not exaggerating when I say Tonto ROCKED. Not only did everyone know he was hotter and smarter than The Lone Ranger, he was on the 1st television hit of all time. (Much the same can be said of Kato from the Green Hornet, but I digress due to hotness) There would still be decades before the viewing public came to expect more ethnics to play themselves on TV, much less play them realistically, but there’s a slight expectation now that to have at least a touch of reality in your ethnic characters.

Now, you’re probably wondering where this is going. And I’ll tell you. It’s going to Thursday night’s Grey’s Anatomy episode. And it’s not about race, it’s about common sense.

See, thursday’s episode starred a writer. Not just any writer, either. Oh no, she’s a ROMANCE writer. Cue the brain tumor.

To be fair, she had multiple aneurysms, but you get my point.

Sure it was a new episode, but you’ve seen it before on other shows. Dying melodramatic romance author races against time to finish a book about true love at the possible cost of her own life. Someone must help the beleaguered woman finish her book before she dies! Cry, people, CRY at the writer’s dedication to her readers! She LOVES you! She has no life or family or interest in anything but getting you another chapter in her never-ending love triangle and that’s why YOU love HER.

Spoiler: She lives. And she’s figured out a way to stretch the series a few more books. AWESOMESAUCE.

(If you can’t hear the sarcasm there, feel free to apply liberally until it’s dripping like a good rib-sauce.)

I’ve never much understood why writers of tv shows write episodes about other writers and make them so… well, ridiculous.

If I have a brain aneurysm, I hate to break it to y’all, but I’m going to talk to my editors and get an extension on the book while I, I don’t know, fight for my life. No offense, that’s just the way I roll.

In reality, while writers will hole up for hours with our laptops, notebooks and whatever necessary snacks and music to avoid interruption while we write, most of us have families. We interact. We require friends and contacts and shoulders to lean on. (And occasionally for inspiration for our characters and the choices they make.)

Don’t get me wrong, we love our readers. I’d do a lot for all of you. But like any other sane person, I’d be in need of medical intervention if I put work ahead of live saving surgery.

The closest rendition of a writer that ever made sense to me was in the movie “Stranger Then Fiction”, and even then, her home was beyond antiseptic and I can’t imagine a writer living there. (We like cozy places to read and shockingly, we usually enjoy the occasional color)

I guess I would just like something at least slightly closer to reality, especially since these characters are being created by, you know, writers.

Dying attached to your laptop with no one in your life isn’t dedication. It’s sad. If you’re going to depict a writer that way, how about you do me a favor and don’t make it a romance writer. Go for a literary writer, they like dying at the end. Us Romance writers? That’s not how we roll.

Dee

Usually, I have no idea how it happens that months go by without me being really aware of it. How does that happen?

But honestly, I know what happened this time. Some crazy, crazy developments! Allow me to fill you in:

I’ve been writing!

Yeah, never thought you’d hear that again, did you? I have though, and I have a lot planned for the coming months.

A completely new novella that I’m self-publishing and will be out in Late November called “10 Ways To Steal Your Lover”, about a couple that wake up married in Vegas. Nothing terribly strange about that except that the guy this bride married isn’t the groom she expected!

Next, I’ve returned to the world of Rancho del Cielo to introduce a new family to the collection of slightly nuts folks in the country suburb. In this new chapter, you’ll meet Amanda Jackman and her band of merry brothers, none of whom will let the poor gal have a date. So when she gets the okay to go out with one of her brothers’ best friends, she knows something is up, she just can’t believe what it is!

And I have one more project up my sleeve I can’t quite talk about yet, but it’s very exciting and I can’t wait to tell you about it.

And yes, there’s MORE to tell you about. Starting next week on Harlequin.com, we’re starting our NaNoWriMo event–take part, honest, it’s fun, non-violent, whining welcome and there will be authors to play with!–, not to mention Harlequin will also be starting “So You Think You Can Write” again and well, seriously, you don’t want to miss that. Editors everywhere giving you every possible chance and tip you can use to get your foot in the door. Don’t miss it!

Then, next month, we’re having our 10th Annual Open House over at Harlequin.com. Over 100 authors sharing holiday cheer and a darn good time! I’m still booking authors for MIRA, HQN & LUNA, Harlequin Medical and Romance, Superromance & Nocturne! So if you’re a Harlequin author and you’re interested in taking part in our biggest event of the year, email me at laideebug at gmail dot com. I’d love to send you the details.

So that’s what I’ve been doing. Didn’t mean to neglect things here. I rather miss writing blogs about what I’m thinking and doing. Twitter does reduce my ability to make complete sentences, but I love it too. At any rate, expect to see more of me, at least on a weekly basis.

Hugs all, and here’s hoping November is a great month for everyone!

Dee

It’s finally here!

You know when you wait and wait and wait for something and then, all of a sudden, there it is!

Well, I’m happy to say, that’s come for me. The second book of Resurrection is now available! Run out and grab! For a sample, you can also read excerpts on my Details Page or scroll down for the Between The Books scenes and find out how Tempting The Enemy led to Deceiving The Protector.

Purchase at Carina Press | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | All Romance eBooks | Audible

I know you’re all dying to know, but first, what will our fine winner be receiving?

Prize Contents:

*A book light–so she can see as she stays up all night long and not miss a word!

* An e-copy of the award-winning 1st book of the Resurrection series, “Tempting The Enemy”.

* An e-copy of “Deceiving The Protector”, Resurrection Book Two!

* A $25 Gift Card to either Amazon or Barnes & Noble (her choice) so that she can get even more Paranormal books to keep her up late at night!

* How can she enjoy her reading without some munchies, right? She’ll be chilling with Apple candies and crisps, under green and white fire-less candles with her Green Apple Martini in one hand and her ereader in the other.

* She’ll also have a beautiful green orchard “Tall Tales” notebook to make note of her favorite quotes and upcoming releases.

*Last but not least, a full set of “Resurrection” Romance Trading Cards!

So who is the lucky winner? Courtesy of Hubby’s blind draw–because he has no idea what he’s drawing or why–Drum roll please…

Congratulations to…Fedora Chen!

Email me, Fedora, at AuthorDeeTenorio at gmail.com with your snail mail address and the Paranormal Suspense Reader Survival Kit shall be yours!!

Welcome back for the third and final “Between The Books” scene! I hope you’re enjoying these little peeks into the world of Resurrection and that you’ll come back next week to help me celebrate the release of the book.

Today’s segment will give you a moment to look into the relationships between The Alpha and his brothers. It’s always fun to spend time with brothers, especially ones who show their affection with rough meaning. That’s the very best kind.

Enjoy the sneak peek!
Dee

Brotherhood

The rhythmic pounding of his paws on the ground, joined by the thrum of his own heartbeat, was possibly the very best sound on Earth. Tate ran, his body stretching full length with one lunge to the next, climbing the mountain, dodging between trees and the bodies of his brothers. Up ahead, Pale ran, his heavy black shape difficult even for Tate to discern in the darkness. Ty ran alongside, the heave of his breath and the thumps of his paws nearly blending in with Tate’s own.

Scents from the forest filled his senses. Pine needles, sap, earth dug up by his own paws, the air growing moist the higher they climbed. Faster, harder he pushed, needing this run. Sometimes, the sense of being trapped in his own skin was enough to make him want to claw the walls. The freedom of running, of just being everything he was, coursed through his blood and sang over him from the tips of his ears to the end of his tail. Miles disappeared behind them, taking the strain and the weight of a thousand lives with them. If he had his way, he’d stay like this forever. The temptation was always there, to simply turn away from his brothers and lose himself in the forest. In the animal he spent most days burying beneath a suit and a charming smile, hating every second of the lie he needed to stay alive. The teeth he kept, even if only figuratively, to maintain his place as a defense attorney to be feared in Moonridge. Hell, the state.

But just as he followed Pale up the front steps of the isolated cabin even those in Resurrection didn’t know existed, he turned from the urge. It wasn’t a real desire. Truth was, freedom didn’t exist for his kind anywhere in the world but here. They’d all learned that lesson fifteen years ago, watching the only home they’d ever known explode, the act of a woman bent on extermination. A lesson he would never forget, even if everyone in his pack did.

Pale’s form rippled where he stood, his black fur rolling like a shiver from head to tail, revealing the crouched body of the man in its place. Stretching his own neck, Tate enacted the change in himself, a tingling sensation washing over him. His vision changed, from the sharp blacks and greys of the Wolf to the vivid colors of humanity. It was always its most clear, most breathtaking, right after a change. His favorite part about the shift, really.

Standing naked with his brothers as they entered sure as hell was never a thrill.

Pale undid the padlock on the cabin with the key they kept under a loose porch floorboard. Inside, they each found the zippered pouches of spare clothing they’d left here for just these meetings. Yet another of Mina’s details, since she was up here the most often, locking herself away from everyone whenever she came into Heat. Tate dressed, frowning at Aaron’s undisturbed container. He lifted it, the canvas fabric as coarse as his own, but the embroidered letters spelling Aaron’s name stitched with obvious care.

“Exactly how long are we supposed to let this go on?” Tate waved the bag at both Ty and Pale before tossing it back on the table irritably.

They didn’t pretend not to know what he meant. Ty frowned, still shrugging his heavy shoulders into a faded green t-shirt. They’d all gotten their jeans on first, but Pale didn’t seem interested in putting a shirt on. He dragged a hand through his black hair, shaking his head before he turned away.

“It’s between Aaron and Mina. We get too involved, we’ll ruin any chance they have.” He headed toward the kitchen end of the cabin, which ran the length of the back wall. A plain wooden table with four chairs sat just in front of it, a kerosene lamp in the center, waiting to be lit. They didn’t need it to see, their night vision a natural benefit to being a shifter, but sitting in the dark for hours like assholes who’d never heard of a match had never appealed much to him, so Tate reached for the box and did the job. Ty pulled out a chair, settling into it without a word—which was how Ty did most things. He wasn’t much happier than Tate, but there wasn’t much to be said. They both knew Pale was right.  You couldn’t force bonding, not even to save lives.

“How long can Jade keep her healthy?”

Pale, busying himself at the counter with the coffee pot, stayed silent for too long. Even Ty sat up straighter, his dark stare darting to catch Tate’s gaze before returning to bore into Pale’s tanned back.

Pale must have felt it, because he braced his weight on the counter with his spread hands and sighed. “She doesn’t know. The wasting is getting stronger. Even with Jade restoring her physically every week…it’s taking more and more of a toll. On both of them.”

Tate frowned. It was easy to think of Jade as all powerful. She drew her strength from light, could control it, bend it, shape it, even listen to it, thanks to her empathic capabilities. She used light to heal. To strengthen. But just because light was unending didn’t mean Jade didn’t use up her own reserves to master it. That was why Pale was so insistent on seeing her trained aside from her abilities. He never wanted her defenseless.

“Now, with this shifting problem happening more and more often, I’m not sure how long it can go on. Every time she shifts like that, it drains her completely. Sometimes for days.”

“So make her stop.” The words were out before Tate could think better of them.

Pale looked over his shoulder, the muscles in his back flexing as his frigid blue gaze met Tate’s.  “And how do you propose I do that? The woman turns into fucking light. You ever try to stop light? I’ve seen her burn through entire buildings and turn sand into glass. Did you see her move today? That was slow. The only reason she hasn’t woken up on the other side of the planet is because of our bond—she always comes back to me. But when she’s in that form, she’s not Jade. She’s pure, undiluted, uncontrollable power. When your mate can conceivably blow up the whole fucking planet, how about you make her stop?”

Tate closed his eyes, raising his hands in surrender. When he opened them, Ty was giving him that grin, the one that made him want to punch his brother’s face in. “What about that grandmother of hers? Doesn’t she have any ideas on how to rein her in?”

Pale finally turned around, crossing those ham-sized arms of his over his chest. The flash of anger had abated, leaving lines of worry around his mouth. Tate still wasn’t really used to Pale without that thick beard that covered most of his expressions. Worry wasn’t one he wanted to see. “Even if I could talk to her—which I can’t—I don’t think I would.”

“What?” Hadn’t he just gotten through describing that his mate was a human-sized sun with the destructive power of a nuclear bomb or two? “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do for your mate? Protect her? Even from herself?”

Pale mouth tightened. “She spent her entire life in a cage. I’m not about to do that to her again. What she needs is control. Control takes time. Patience. Which is the only reason why I put up with your bullshit.”

As if that had to do with anything. Pale and Jade’s relationship might mystify the shit out of him, but certain elements of it should still hold true. You protect what’s yours. Pale had taught him that from the crib. Defend it to the death. That was why they’d come all the way down to Moonridge and the mountains where they’d made their home. So they’d have something to defend. Something no one could take away. “Doesn’t it concern you that she’s endangering everyone in Resurrection every time she slips up?”

“She’s the only reason why everyone here is safe, Tate.” An argument even Tate couldn’t fault. Jade had leveraged her own life to win protection for them from the Sibile. “Every shifter up here is dangerous to us. Every time we bring one in, we don’t know what the hell we’re getting.” Pale ran a hand through his hair again, roughly dragging his fingers through the short length. “That’s why I needed you both here. Jade got a message from her grandmother last night. The Underground is being infiltrated. Each of you has a specific role if we want to stop it.”

“Where do we go?” Unasked—and unneeded—was what any of them would do to stop it once they were pointed in the right direction.

“Two fronts. There’s a Sibile on her way to Moonridge very soon. She’s been assigned to find the Underground anyway she can. It’s my understanding that she’s a telepath. From what Jade tells me, she can hear the Earth thinking, so avoiding detection is not the objective. Distracting her is.”

Tate ground his teeth together. The Sibile, females who were brought up to live and die for duty, were known to be a hell of a lusty lot once freed from the constraints of their enclaves. On occasion, taking the role of the charming man-whore because of his looks had its rewards, but distracting a Sibile had all the appeal of swallowing acid for fun.

“Ty, she’s a friend,” Pale continued. “I need you to be a little more delicate than usual.”

Both Ty and Tate did a double take, with Ty finally slanting a dark glance his  way before turning back to Pale. “Not that I’m objecting, but delicate isn’t really my thing.”

Pale fixed him with an unbending stare. “Make it your thing.”

Ty acquiesced with a slight inclination of his head, but his raised eyebrows illustrated how well he thought that would go. Since the guy was pretty much a rock with feet, Tate didn’t expect much either. But at least it wasn’t his problem.

“What’s my position?”

Pale’s cool gaze settled on Tate, for some reason lifting the hairs at the back of his neck again. “I need you in Pennsylvania. We have a situation there that requires your…special touch.”

Tate frowned. That was Betha’s region. Special touch, my ass, no one else wants to take on the hellcat.

If you’d asked him ten years ago if they’d have an Underground for shifters in search of sanctuary—least of all one that stretched all the way across the country—or that the runt of their pack would grow up to be one of its most feral protectors, he’d have laughed his ass off. In the present, however, he now had the unenviable job of walking into that crazy lion cub’s territory to make sure she wasn’t fucking up. Great.

“Any losses?”

“Three safe houses. The raids haven’t netted anyone.” But that was only a matter of time. Death squad raids had been the government’s best and most used weapon against shifters in this genocide. Trained crews, tracking shifters of any kind, killing them in their homes, running them down in the street, and for the very unlucky, taking them hostage for testing new “solutions”. Every generation seemed to have a different sanctioned name, a different political leader explaining the need for such actions, but they all amounted to the same thing—the humans with the pitchforks out to kill the scary monsters. The problem was, they were damn good exterminators and they had no compunction about killing women or children.

The current guy had been around for awhile, a senator who’d picked up the mantle Joseph McCarthy had left behind back in the sixties. Of course, McCarthy had damn near made shifters extinct, but at least he’d been honest about stirring up sentiment against them. Warren Thompson, on the other hand, was a self-professed “voice of change”. For twenty years now, he’d been talking about needing to accept that shifters were part of humanity, how in this day and age, the world should be able to understand that people could be different. He’d even managed to get laws passed that—on the surface—offered shifters a chance to find equality in a world determined to be rid of them. Except any shifter that dared take that chance always managed to end up dead. It didn’t take a genius to add it up.

Not that regular humans knew anything about all the shifters that had disappeared thanks to Thompson’s programs. Poor, dumb bastards probably wouldn’t believe it, even if there was proof.

“Betha says they’re finding bodies.”

“It’s not like the squads to leave evidence behind,” Tate mused, trying to remember ever hearing of it happening before.

“May not be the squads. All we know for sure, someone is hunting. Hunting often enough for Betha to call home for back up.”

“You sure he should be heading out there alone?” Ty asked, a faint scowl on his face. “I mean, we’re talking the squads here. He’s good with his claws, but those fancy knife tricks of his aren’t going to save him from armored killers armed to the teeth.”

Tate slid his gaze over to Ty. “You’re not exactly indestructible, either, dumbass, no matter how many walls your face looks like it got slammed into.”

“Enough.” Pale’s tone brooked no argument. “There’s something going on out there. Something even the Sibile are concerned about. They’re insisting you’re the only man for the job.”

“Me?” Funny, he’d always figured any Sibile who thought of him would instantly burst into flames. Or maybe he just hoped.

Pale nodded, his face stony. “Only you. The whole thing has my neck twitching, but I need you to do it. Find out what the fuck is going on out there before we lose the whole northeast connection of the Underground and everybody in it.”

There wasn’t much to say to that. Tate nodded, looking from one brother to the other. From the time they were kids, it seemed it was always them against the world. Every obstacle between them and staying alive seemed to turn into another and another. This was just one more.

“I’ll get the first flight out.”

Welcome back for the second “Between The Books” scene! I hope you’re enjoying these little peeks into the world of Resurrection.

Today’s segment introduces you to a character briefly mentioned in “Tempting The Enemy”, Mina. For those new to the series, the main characters from Resurrection were raised in an orphanage. The leaders–Pale, Tate, Ty, Aaron and Mina–were raised as siblings by Mina’s mother. Mina has long been the very heart of the pack, taking in the orphans much as her mother did before her. But sometimes, the strongest hearts bear the greatest pain…

Enjoy the sneak peek!
Dee

Sister Knows Best

So what if he stomped his way up the hillside to his own cabin instead of heading back into the open center square. Just because that was where the kids ran and they were usually happy to see him. Or because he should probably go and see his sister, Mina. Like Aaron, whereever the kids were, she was. Mina didn’t have Jade’s empathic skills, but she still picked up too much for his own good. Only Mina had no qualms sticking her nose into things.

Which explained why she was sitting on his front steps, long skirt fluttering around her ankles, waiting as if she had nothing better to do on a long summer day.

As usual, the first sight of Mina stung. She looked like their mother. Her mother, biologically, though Moira Eileen Finnaegan would box his ears for considering himself anything less than her full-blooded son. With her black hair, thick and drawn back into a tight braid, pretty blue eyes, her fine skin dappled with freckles across her cheeks and an ever-present smile, Mina should have had her pick of any male in the pack. She grinned at him, rising with her arms up for a hug despite the scowl that felt carved into his face.

“You didn’t really expect you’d get in here without seeing me, didn’t you?”

Not really, much as he’d hoped to calm down first. He kissed her cheek anyway and let her pull him toward the cabin.

She waited for him to open the door, her arms held behind her body while she rocked back on her heels, dark brows lifting in an impish grin. Which meant Mina was up to something.

Tate barely held back a groan and shoved open the door. “What? And spit it out quick, I have to run in a half hour.”

If she was bothered by his exasperation, she gave no sign. “I heard you proved the great experiment, is all.”

“What experiment?”

“Jade.” She blinked at him as if that was supposed to explain something. Then shrugged when it clearly didn’t. “She’s been having some shifting problems. It’s still new to her so her control is off. Her emotions can trigger it, just like any other kid. Pale still wants her trained though, so he figured if she had the whole pack out there, keeping her emotions happy, then the aggression of the training wouldn’t set her off.” She moved into the cabin ahead of him, her long lean lines somehow graceful and gentle despite the efficiency of her movements.

Sometimes, looking at Mina, he could see her as she’d been when they were kids. Though still unmated, she was completely different. She’d matured, the girlish curves to her face having settled into the stronger planes and angles of a woman. A woman who should be a mother. Should have been one long, long ago. Damn Aaron… But even that thought wasn’t complete. Damn me, too.

“It was working pretty well until the Dark Pit of Despair showed up.”

His thoughts snapped shut at that. He threw his bag on the couch he’d spent three miles looking forward to stretching out on. He ground his teeth, watching Mina head straight for the window blinds on the left corner of cabin’s main room. It was a fairly open plan, with windows all around. Windows she usually made it a point to open up for him an hour or so before his arrivals, to help air the place out. Just fucked up everyone’s schedule today, hadn’t he?

“I am not the Dark Pit of Despair.”

“Right. And Pale’s not stocked on firewood for the next three winters.” Her laughter tinkled in his ears, pulling him back by the simple trait of being an annoying older sister. “Everyone knows how you feel about her, Tate.”

“I don’t feel anything about her.” The sooner everyone up here got that through their heads, the better.

Mina only snorted, having lifted the first window and well on her way to unlocking the next. “She’s an empath. If you think she can’t feel your mistrust, you’re more deluded than I thought.”

Deluded about what, he didn’t want to know. Mina’s thoughts—like most women’s, he’d found—defied explanation. Also like most women, it just wasn’t worth fighting with her to change them. “You’re a pain in my ass, Meen. Seriously.”

“If you had a mate, I wouldn’t have to be, now would I?”

Against his will, a chuckle escaped. With anyone else, the mention of his supposedly heartbroken and long-suffering unfound mate pissed him off to no end. For some inexplicable reason, the entire encampment was obsessed with seeing him “settled”. The only one who possibly had it worse than him was Mina, the oldest of the females without a male’s imprint or a mate. Not a day passed when she wasn’t asked to choose a male and get it over with.

“We could always mate each other, you know. That would shut everyone up.”

She laughed, just like usual. The sound was a little more hollow this time, though. “One of these days, I’m going to take you up on that offer, just to watch you try to squirm out of it.”

He grimaced. Even for Mina, he doubted he could go through with it.

Her laughter this time lacked any shadows at all. “Oh my God, Tate, that was priceless.” She actually stopped lifting windows to hold her stomach with one hand. “Is that what you do every time a woman brings up mating?”

He couldn’t help a self-depreciating grin when her peals of laughter ramped up again. “God, no wonder they all hate you.”

So much for smiling.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that! The women don’t hate you, they just hate how much they like you…” She rushed over, her hands already fluttering to smooth his ruffled fur, still giggling.

He stopped her with a head shake, backing up a step from her maternal ministrations. The last thing he needed was a pat on the head. “I’m fine.”

She stopped at his rejection, but the mirth melted away too, leaving behind the concern he still remembered too well on their mother’s face. Almost instantly, her carefree mask slipped away too, revealing the soul-deep heartache everyone knew was there behind her smile, even if they couldn’t tell why. But he knew.

In the light of her hurt at his rejection, her eyes shining with tears she’d never let fall openly, his petty irritation disappeared. He opened his arms for her, the constant wound in his heart clenching when she ran into them. How can you comfort someone for a hurt that you caused? A hurt you can’t undo? He’d tried, for years he’d tried, desperate to make it up to all of them, but for Mina most of all. Because of him, their mother was gone. Their home. For seven of them, their lives. But Mina had lost even more, her chance with her mate.

He held her tight, grimly noting that she’d lost weight again. She felt like little more than bones now, hiding it behind a loose dress so no one would notice the wasting away. He squeezed his eyes shut, hating himself just a little bit more. “Just say the word, honey, and I’ll pluck him, one fucking feather at a time.”

A watery laugh against his neck was accompanied by the wet slide of her head shaking back and forth. “It’s not his fault.”

“Like hell it’s not.” He smoothed his hand over her head, over and over again, just holding her. Mina didn’t let her walls down for many. Right now, he doubted she could get them back up if she tried.

She swallowed, a loud sound in the silence. “I could have picked someone else.”

And if it didn’t sound as if just the thought of choosing a different mate hurt worse than swallowing glass, she probably would have. Mina’s bond to Aaron wasn’t real anywhere but in her heart, but Tate knew better than anyone else, the heart was what mattered. When you chose a mate, you chose. Even if you never completed the bonding—linking your souls with blood and body—if your heart was set, you never stopped reaching for the one who could make you whole. Not even if that person was dead.

Not even if they deserved to be.

“Pale know about this?” The wasting was a fate even the strongest of shifters feared. Rejection from your mate cut to the soul, physically draining you like a wound that never healed, bleeding you until there was nothing left. Not the body, not the soul. Just…nothing.

She nodded. “Jade helps.”

Well, that explained a lot. As Alpha, Pale was the most important part of this pack they’d built from the rubble of their past, but Mina…she was the soul. The mother that had held them all together, even when it was just the five of them trying to take care of eighteen orphans in a dark cave back in South Dakota. If Jade was keeping Mina going, there wasn’t a member of the pack alive that wouldn’t lay down their lives for her. Including him.

Mina sighed, squeezing him tight for a second before letting go. She hid her face as she turned away, already heading for more windows he didn’t care about. He let her. She didn’t need him denting her pride any more than it already was. “Leave Aaron alone. You’ll just make matters worse.”

“How much worse can they get?” How long could Jade fight the wasting for her?

Mina’s spine straightened, though she kept her back to him. Her silence said it all.

“Aaron doesn’t know.” And if he didn’t, odds were good the rest of the camp didn’t know either.

“No, and he’s not going to find out.” Her firm tone brooked no argument.

Which he cared about as much as he cared when any of his other siblings tried the same thing. “Bullshit. You think it’s going to escape his notice when you dwindle down so far you can’t get up anymore?”

She did turn, finally, her bright eyes snapping despite the moisture on her cheeks that she’d tried to wipe away. “You think I want a mate out of pity? That I want to tie him to me that way? What kind of life is that, Tate?”

“It’s a life.”

She shook her head. “As if you would know.”

Tate glared at her, pretending that little blade of truth didn’t sting.

Mina swiped at her cheeks, frustration evident. “Just…mind your own business. You’re going to have enough on your hands soon anyway.”

He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Really. I don’t…all I know is that Pale and Jade have been tense about something and it’s not because Duncan is keeping them up at night.” She hugged herself tight, looking away almost guiltily. “Something bad is coming, Tate. I’m no Sibile, but even I can tell. Something worse than anything we’ve ever seen.”

He sighed. “Don’t let that Evil Amish crap in your head.”

“I’m not kidding.” She met his stare evenly this time. “Whatever it is Pale asked you up here to do, it’s dangerous. You have to be careful. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“Hey.” Arguing with Mina never did much good. He could be careful all he wanted, if Death was coming, Death was coming. They were born into a near-complete shifter genocide. He wasn’t about to shy away from a fight now. Deep down, Mina knew that. He walked over to her, cupping her face in one hand so she’d be sure to look at him. “I’m always careful.”

“No you’re not.” Knowledge shone in her eyes. She knew his guilt. Had always known it. “You don’t owe us your life.”

“No,” he agreed, releasing his hold. He owed them more than a single life, but that was all he had to give. She reached for him, but he didn’t give in this time. He kept walking, right out of the cabin and into the fading light on the mountain.

Time to find out why he’d been summoned.