Tuesday, February 13, 2018

INTERVIEW WITH WILLIAM BLACKWELL (Freaky Franky)


Good morning, all.  There's a special treat for you today. Author William Blackwell is in the house to talk about his new horror release, FREAKY FRANKY! We had a chance to ask him a few questions:


SC: Tell me a little bit about your main character of this book.

WB: In my new horror release Freaky Franky, Franklin Reiger is one of the main characters. I think he’s interesting because his motivations are not black and white. Shades of gray help readers identify and perhaps even sympathize with him. As a child, he witnesses the deaths of many close family members, and eventually believes he’s cursed. Everyone around him seems to be dying. He flees to the Dominican Republic and starts to change, praying for the deaths of his enemies. But he becomes wracked by guilt and remorse and embarks down a landmine-laced path of redemption and rebirth. Although Freaky Franky is a work of fiction, it is a fact-based, well-researched novel examining the terrifying consequences of worshiping the cult of Santa Muerte with evil intentions.
SC: Sounds like there's some soul redemption going on there of one sort or another. Redemption is good. A lot of deaths, not so much. Curious, do you believe in the paranormal and if so, do you have an experience you can share?

WB; I think there is overwhelming evidence to support the existence of ghosts. In paranormal novel Phantom Rage, as part of my research, I joined a team of paranormal investigators on some investigations. On one such investigation we got set up in an old house in Strathmore, Alberta, where a frightened woman had told us a story of seeing an apparition of a little girl playing a violin in one of the basement bedrooms. As we began to set up our equipment, we noticed that one of the bedroom doors had locks on the outside of the door, suggesting someone had been locked inside against their will. We wondered if perhaps it had been the little girl. Although we did experience highly suggestive levels of electro-magnetic activity in the bedroom in question, we never saw the little girl apparition. However, late that night, we heard and recorded spooky voices coming from the basement laundry room and, strangely, the batteries went dead on one of the flashlights as well as the video recorder. We also heard strange rustling noises coming from a basement laundry room, and one of the lights mysteriously flickered on and off a few times. I wouldn’t call the experience frightening, but certainly highly suggestive and interesting. However, in Phantom Rage, I took some liberties. I embellished and molded some of those facts into what I believe is a horrifying paranormal novel.
SC: I too, am a member of a paranormal  team, so  your story is very intriguing to me. Plus, it sounds like you might be Canadian, just like moi. What titles are you working on now that you can tell us about?

WB: Lately I’ve been doing a lot of research on dreams and the amazing subconscious landscapes they produce. I’ve also researched and written blog posts on a number of sleep disorders including night terrors, sleep paralysis, sleepwalking, even sexsomnia—a condition in which people actually initiate and have sex in their sleep and wake up with no recollection of it. The working title for my work in progress is Deadly Parasomnia.  In it, lead protagonist Noah Janzen is afflicted with multiple sleep disorders. He becomes convinced the infamous Hat Man, a dark and spooky character he sees repeatedly during sleep paralysis, has dark and deadly intentions. A series of terrifying encounters with the “Hat Man” soon convince Noah he’s losing his mind and his life begins to unravel. Struggling with internal and external demons, he battles to save his life and his sanity.
SC: Thanks so much for joining us today. Come back anytime!

Freaky Franky
William Blackwell

Genre: Horror

Publisher: Telemachus Press

Date of Publication: December 3, 2017

ISBN: ISBN-10: 1945330945
ISBN-13: 978-1945330940
ASIN: B077X41V9J

Number of pages: 326
Word Count: 66323

Cover Artist: Johnny Breeze

Tagline: Santa Muerte followers discover the horrifying consequences of worshipping with evil intentions.

Book Description:

When an enigmatic town doctor saves the life of Anisa Worthington’s dying son, she abandons Christianity in favor of devotion to the cult of Santa Muerte or Saint Death. Some believe the mysterious skeleton saint will protect your loved ones; help in matters of the heart; provide abundant happiness, health, wealth and justice. But others, including the Catholic Church, call it blasphemous, evil and satanic.

Anisa introduces Saint Death to troubled Catholic friend Helen Randon and strange things begin happening. One of Helen’s enemies is brutally murdered and residents of Montague, a peaceful little town in Prince Edward Island, begin plotting to rid the Bible belt of apostates.

Anisa suspects Helen is perverting the good tenets of Santa Muerte but, before she can act, a terrible nightmare propels her to the Dominican Republic in search of Freaky Franky, her long-lost and unstable brother, who mysteriously disappeared without a trace twenty years ago.

To her horror, Anisa learns Freaky Franky is also worshiping Santa Muerte with evil intentions. As a fanatical and hell-bent lynch mob tightens the noose, mysterious murders begin occurring all around Anisa. Unsure about who’s an enemy and who’s an ally, she’s thrust into a violent battle to save her life as well as the lives of her unpredictable friends and brother.

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About the Author:

William Blackwell studied journalism at Calgary’s Mount Royal University and English literature at Vancouver’s University of British Columbia. He worked as a print journalist for many years before becoming an author. He has written over seventeen novels, mainly in the horror genre. Currently living on an acreage in Prince Edward Island, Blackwell loves to travel and write dark fiction.


Twitter: @wblackwell333



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Monday, February 12, 2018

INTERVIEW WITH CASEY WYATT (Dead Girls Don't Sing)


 
 
As much as I want to be a singer, I am not a singer. American Idol would have me on the blooper loop. I am intrigued however, by this title, Dead Girls Don't Sing. The author, Casey Wyatt, stopped by to chat with us this morning. Bonus!
 
SC: Tell me a little bit about your main character of this book.
CW: Cherry Cordial is such a fun character. She first came to me while I was driving. All I heard in my head was “Vampire Stripper on Mars.” Cherry didn’t arrive fully formed but her personality was hard to ignore. Dead Girls Don’t Cry was the fastest book I ever wrote. Cherry and I were simpatico!
Until I wrote book two – Dead Girls Don’t Sing – where I delved deeper into Cherry’s past as Charity Belmont, daughter of the Earl of Pembridge and Lady d’Aumont, wife of Jonathan (her vampire maker). Then we had a bit of a tussle over how much of her backstory was relevant to the book. In the end it took me the longest time to finish the story. But I did get it done!
The thing I like the most about Cherry is that she is loyal, caring, and would do anything to keep her family safe. Much like me, she is stubborn and doesn’t like people trying to control her. Let’s just say that in Dead Girls Don’t Sing, we learn more about her human family (including her brother Edwin who deserves a book of his own) and more about her early vampire years. If you like family drama, this book has plenty along with humor and fast-paced action.
SC: I think I want to visit the club Cherry worked at on Mars. But I digress. Do you believe in the paranormal and if so, do you have an experience you can share?
CW: The scientist in me resists the idea of the paranormal being real but I’m open to the possibility. I’ve never encountered the paranormal in my waking life but I did have one experience back in 1992 that involved a dream. I dreamt that my great aunt (who I loved dearly) was in the hospital. One of my uncles and my aunt (who I don’t see much let alone dream about) were there and they were very upset. I woke up and dismissed it but that same day, I asked my mother if my great aunt was okay. She said she was fine. Two days later, my great aunt died of a heart attack. She had been taken to the hospital by the same aunt and uncle in my dream. So that alone tells me that, we humans, don’t know as much as we think we do.
SC:  What titles are you working on now that you can tell us about?
CW: Right now, I’m writing a paranormal romance, Chase’s Fire, (next book after Lachlan’s Curse). Once that is completed, I hope to go straight to Misfortunate Soul, (a sequel to Misfortune Cookie). It’s about time because Misfortune Cookie is a book that I get asked, “When’s the next one coming?” To those who’ve asked, “I hear you!” The only reason I didn’t go straight to it was I had just completed Dead Girls Don’t Sing, which is also first person and I needed a brain refresh.
Thank you so much for having me. Got questions, please do ask away!
SC: The pleasure is ours, Casey. Drop by anytime. Now let's take a look at your novel.

 
Dead Girls Don’t Sing
The Undead Space Initiative
Book Two
Casey Wyatt

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Time Travel

Publisher: Casey Wyatt

Date of Publication: 12/18/17

ISBN: 978-1979982078
ASIN: B07846RFWP

Number of pages: 338
Word Count: 93,000

Cover Artist: Kim Killion Designs


Tagline: Time will have its way

Book Description:

When former vampire stripper Cherry Cordial settled on Mars with her undead family, she thought she’d left her chaotic past behind her. After finding her mate and becoming the first vampire to give birth, she’s hoping to lead a drama-free life.

Naturally, the universe has a different plan. When mysterious undead space travelers arrive, an ancient Martian plague is released, infecting the undead. To find the cure she must return to Earth. All she needs to do is travel into the past, confront her own tangled history, and not break the space-time continuum. But if Cherry’s learned anything, it’s that her life is never that easy.

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Excerpt:

Tiny pokers stabbed my eyes.
Another body, warm and hard, spooned against my backside.
Ian always felt so good, comforting and real.
His hand wrapped around my waist, cupping the underside of my breast. A cool sheet slid off my bare shoulder.
I was naked and in bed. A snippet of memory interrupted my appreciation of my husband’s hand.
Wasn’t I running from something . . .?
Fingers trailed along my spine, heading south. The touch was wrong, unfamiliar and rough.
Hold on. That wasn’t Ian. I shouldn’t feel the warmth of sun against my skin either. We lived on Mars, where it was colder than a witch’s tit.
If not Ian, then who was touching my inner thigh?
My eyelids snapped open like a shade on a spring. Bolting upright, I bared my fangs and grabbed the man’s wrist.
Oh, holy hell. I was in bed with another man. I rolled away and slammed into a different body. Shit, make that two other men. Two eye-poppingly gorgeous men.
Hey, I might be dead, but I’m not dead dead.
“Mistress? Have I displeased you?” said the man whose wrist I was about to shatter. Stunning blue-gray eyes. Dark stubble lined his chiseled jawline. His dark hair was mussed and complimented his swarthy skin tone. Dried blood smeared his neck. A red trail led to puncture marks.
The other man’s brown muscled chest rose and fell in rhythmic sleep. His body was fully exposed on the white sheet. Puncture marks lined his neck, his groin and his very erect penis.
My cheeks heated like a furnace. Clearly, we’d had a good time.
“No. Leave me. Both of you go to your rooms.” I dropped his wrist. The man woke his drowsing companion, and they left as I’d commanded.
Damn. I wished I could get the other men in my life to be so compliant.
Other men? There were other people important to me. Why couldn’t I remember them?
I’d kill Jonathan if he was messing with my mind again.
But yet... that idea didn’t feel right.
Somewhere in a dead corner of my memory, this moment seemed familiar. Jonathan, sensing my unhappiness with our “arrangement,” had spent the early years of our relationship attempting to please me.
This must have been my slut phase, where we’d bring home gorgeous men and I would feast and fuck while he watched. I enjoyed knowing it bothered him that I wouldn’t sleep with him. Only the mortals that we found in gaming dens, brothels, even at society events. The only other thing I would take from Jonathan besides his money was his blood, and only out of necessity.
Fucking hell. Ian’s go-to phrase—I remembered him now—helped resurface the reason why I was reliving this not-so-proud moment in my past.
The plague. The Lost Ship. The time stream. My daughter.
Oh, dear God. I hoped she was safe.
“Good morning, my pet.” Jonathan read a page of the morning newspaper while sipping tea from a dainty cup. He sat on the balcony situated outside my bedroom. From his vantage point, he could view the bed and my doings in Technicolor glory.
My heart lurched at the sight of his arrogant beauty. I had forgotten how full of life he’d been, especially in this time period. And, oh, how handsome he was. His raven hair glossy with blue highlights sparkled in the early morning sunshine. The strong line of his jaw and perfect Roman nose coupled with full lips made it hard not to stare at him. He hadn’t yet acquired the weariness that having a Family would place on him.
In later years, after much bitterness between us, I no longer saw him anymore. The beauty was tarnished, and we became as passionate as two coworkers passing the time until their shift ended. He had become someone I had to endure rather than enjoy. Not that I ever really “enjoyed” him because of the circumstances surrounding our sham marriage.
The horrid image of his death, when he’d knelt, offering Thalia his head, shattered the peaceful moment. With a plaintive look, he commanded that I accept his fate and mine. We both knew that Thalia, the dead queen’s heir apparent, was a vindictive bitch. She blamed me for her mother’s death and Jonathan refused to bow down to her. So, he did what he always did. He protected his Family by sacrificing himself so we could escape. In his last moments, regret had filled his eyes. The wish that we could have been different together had been silenced forever.
Seeing Jonathan again and remembering was worse than reopening a wound and rubbing salt in it with a lemon juice chaser. If only I could apologize to him for how awful I’d been. I hadn’t been blameless in wrecking our relationship. I could have tried harder to accept my fate instead of punishing him at every turn.
The temptation to blurt out the truth bubbled inside, until I had to force myself to look away from him. Would this Jonathan be willing to help me? Or would he use my current predicament to his advantage?
No. I couldn’t, wouldn’t chance it. Not with the entire colony’s lives hanging in the balance.
Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve. Sew it on a patch and you’d have my life’s motto.
Yup. Regrets sucked.
Jonathan placed the teacup down and smiled. “Did you enjoy yourself? You seemed a bit surprised when you awoke.”
Surprise didn’t cover how I felt. That word was too puny, too inadequate. After a few seconds, I found my voice again.
“Yes, we had a good time. Thank you.” It sure looked that way.
He acted like finding his wife in bed with other men was no big deal. It wasn’t like I would keep them. To him they were more like pets or meals with legs.

But now, with a century of wisdom tucked under my belt, instead of relishing in his annoyance, I realized something. He was sad. With himself or me, I wasn’t sure. And it didn’t matter. I had a mission to accomplish. A future to save.

About the Author:

Casey Wyatt grew up in a mid-size Connecticut town where nothing exciting ever happened. To stem the boredom, she read fantasy and sci-fi stories, imagining her own adventures in her head. Not much has changed since she’s grown up, only now she's a multi-published author of paranormal romance and urban fantasy novels. In her spare time, she loves all things geeky, hangs out in museums, and collects stray cats.

Visit Casey on the web: www.caseywyatt.com. You can also find Casey on Facebook and Twitter (@CaseyWyatt1).

To receive advance notice about new releases and special sales, subscribe to Casey's Newsletter at www.caseywyatt.com

Newsletter: https://goo.gl/9t7gxm





Twitter: @CaseyWyatt1




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Sunday, February 11, 2018

GUILTY PLEASURE: SUPERNATURAL MINI AMIGURUMIS

Digressing a bit here today as I'm still working on fixing my feet. The feet that have supported me most of my life took a little tumble in January and they are not too pleased with me right now. So I have lots of time to knit and surf the web.

I found these on Ravelry. They made me smile. I hope they make you smile.

https://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/supernatural-season-5-mini-amigurumis

Sam, Dean, Bobby, Castiel and Lucifer are all there.  Have fun!

These photos belong to the pattern designer. Here's Cas:

 
 
And here's Bobby:
 




Thursday, February 8, 2018

RELEASE DAY BLITZ: DARK EMBRACE by Elle Boon




Dark Embrace
The Dark Legacy Series
Book 1
Elle Boon

Genre: Paranormal Romance, Urban Fantasy, Fantasy

Publisher: Elle Boon

Date of Publication: February 8th, 2018

ISBN: 978-1-64204-509-3

Number of pages: 185
Word Count: 70K

Cover Artist: Valerie of Tibbs Design

Tagline: A DARK LEGACY where only the strong survive and those who are Goddess touched can complete the warriors who fight to protect the world from the creatures that go bump in the night.

Book Description:

Jennaveve, the Fey chosen by the Goddess to be the queen of her people for the past few millennium, is tired and wishes for a break, but hadn’t counted on being reduced to almost mortal thanks to a dark stranger. They say you should be careful what you wish for. The last time she’d taken a break, her Fey had left their realm, resulting in shifters on Earth known as the Mystic and Iron Wolves and even more she was still searching for.

Damien and Lucas Cordell knew they’d share a Hearts Love when the time came. As the twin sons of the Vampire King who’d mated a shifter, they were the first of their kind. When they’d thought their mate was finally within their reach and was a shifter like their mother only to realize she wasn’t theirs, they’d almost lost their lives to the alpha of the Iron Wolves, Kellen Styles. Instead, the error led them to the being that was…the Fey Queen Jennaveve. Only she was even more elusive than the wind.

Time and patience was something Damien and Lucas had in spades, until the female they’d already laid claim to, even if she hadn’t accepted them yet, was taken by an enemy. Saving Jenna became their one and only focus. As time and realms slip between them, their fear for her had them forgetting about patience and made claiming Jenna as their Hearts Love, hoping she accepted their Dark Embrace.

Will the Cordell Twins be able to rescue Jenna from the evil who has taken her?

Will Jenna get her powers back? Who is the dark presence and how will they defeat a being who is strong enough to bring the Fey Queen down to her knees?



Excerpt Dark Embrace

“Hello again, Fey. You’re looking slightly ill. Are my…family not treating you well?” His eyes flashed from obsidian to red. Where her men had gorgeous eyes that she wanted to get lost in, this mans were cold and lifeless.
His words finally registered. “Your family?”
He raked his claws together, making them clack in a way Jenna was sure he did to scare his victims. Newsflash asshole, I’ve faced bigger, badder, uglier, and hopefully deadlier foes, she thought.
“I’d love for us to stay here and chat, but I fear the big guy is waking, and well, I’m not in the mood for a reunion just yet. By the way. Sorry, my pet. I don’t usually use females as pawns, but in this instance, it’s a must.” He flew across the room, eliminating the space separating them.
Jenna fell back against the bed, nearly falling on her ass. His quick reflexes kept her upright. “What the hell are you talking about?” She pressed her hand to his chest, trying to put space between them.
He shook his head. “You’ll find out in due time, my pet. Now, we must go before father-what-a-waste awakens.”
She knew the telltale signs of magic and could feel it as the man in front of her began to manipulate the fabrics of time and space. “Who are you?”
He flashed her a smile, white teeth with two canines much longer than the others prevalent. “My name is Khan, son of Zahidda. Bastard son of Damikan at your service.”
The door flew open, giving her hope she’d be saved. The sight of Damien and Lucas had her shoving harder against the rock-hard chest. “Let me go, asshole. I’m not your pawn.” It was like trying to move a mountain if you were a mere human. Goddess, she hated being so weak.
“Jenna, flash away,” Damien growled.
“Ah, but your female can’t. It seems I’m her cure, little brothers,” Khan taunted.
Lucas stepped forward. “Who are you and what do you want?”
Khan tilted his head to the side. “You have nothing I want. Tell your father I’ll be in touch. Oh, here,” he tossed a necklace onto the bed. “He’ll know who I am with that. If not, then you’re little plaything will become mine…until I tire of her.”
Blackness swirled around Jenna as she heard both Lucas and Damien roar her name. A sick feeling hit her square in the gut, one she knew all too well. Khan was playing a game with the Cordell’s. One only he knew the rules to, and he had zero compassion for anyone getting in his way unless he could use them for his own gain. Jenna just happened to be exactly what he needed in order to hit back at the man he felt deserved it. Shit, she so could use her Fey powers, or even her bestie Kellen right about now. Or even better, if she’d not have been so stubborn and mated with Lucas and Damien instead of waiting, then none of this would have happened. “Well, what if’s do nothing but make big girls cry over spilled milk,” she muttered to herself.
“What?” Khan asked as he opened the portal allowing light to filter in.
She blinked a few times. “Huh?”
“You mumbled something about girls crying and spilled milk.” He carried her over to a couch and set her down. His gentle touch and actions at war with his words to Damien and Lucas.
The light airy room reminded Jenna of a lake cabin, one that families would go to on vacation. “Oh, um, nothing. I talk to myself sometimes.”
Khan shrugged his shoulders. “Make yourself comfy, you’ll be here for a spell or two.” He winked.
A growl rumbled in her throat. “Hahaha, very funny.”
He was next to her in a blink. “No, I’m not funny at all. What I am is deadly. You will do best to remember that.” He raised his nails, the longer lengths looking ominous now, reminding her of the night he’d cut her cheek.
“You did something to me when you sliced my cheek open.” If he was going to kill her, she’d at least know the hows and whys.


About the Author:

Elle Boon lives in Middle-Merica as she likes to say…with her husband, two kids, and a black lab who is more like a small pony. She’d never planned to be a writer, but when life threw her a curve, she swerved with it, since she’s athletically challenged. She’s known for saying “Bless Your Heart” and dropping lots of F-bombs, but she loves where this new journey has taken her.

She writes what she loves to read, and that is romance, whether it’s erotic, Navy SEALs, or paranormal, as long as there is a happily ever after. Her biggest hope is that after readers have read one of her stories, they fall in love with her characters as much as she did. She loves creating new worlds, and has more stories just waiting to be written. Elle believes in happily ever afters, and can guarantee you will always get one with her stories.














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INTERViEW WITH TANI HANES (Farraway Mist)



Are there any signs of Spring in your neighbhourhood? I live in a city that winter appears mainly as rain, and I'm thinking I'd really enjoy some sunshine and flowers now. I'm sure you're with me on that one.

We're trying to spread some sunshine here today by asking author Tani Hanes our three fave questions here at Supernatural Central. She was kind enough to share some tidbits with us. Consider it today's little ray of sunshine.

SC: Tell me a little bit about your main character of this book.


TH: The main character in Farraway Mist is named Scout Lawson. Scout is her nickname, because she resembles the character of Scout from To Kill A Mockingbird. She comes from a wealthy, old New England family, and grew up as a happy tomboy, all the way through college. She wasn’t particularly successful with men, but didn’t really care, and thought she’d found a reasonably happy life, and love, with a grad student at Yale, but he broke up with her in a very painful and humiliating way that shook her self-esteem to the core. This made her want to escape school, and America, and run as far away as she could. And that’s how she wound up on an isolated English estate in Cornwall, working for a reclusive rock star who was nursing his heart, unable to get over his beautiful wife’s death.

Scout’s view of herself as a woman is at about zero, so she has no intention of starting up anything with George Wilder, the master of Farraway Mist, but of course things start to happen between as soon as she arrives. George is drawn to Scout, to her independence, her athleticism, her bravery, some of the very things that make her think so little of herself.
SC:  Do you believe in the paranormal and if so, do you have an experience you can share? 
TH: Let’s just say that I don’t not believe in it, I guess. I can’t think of anything unusual that’s happened to me personally, but I’m not so narrow-minded that I’d preclude the possibilities out of hand. I’m human enough to get scared if I hear something I can’t identify, definitely!

SC:  What titles are you working on now that you can tell us about?
TH: My next project is a romantic trilogy about a couple living in New York City, dealing with a new marriage and an unexpected pregnancy, called Pete and Daisy. I wanted to write about a different kind of heroine, a young woman who was pretty and popular, who liked men and sex, who knew she was attractive. I was tired of shy, shrinking wallflowers.
It should be out later in 2018.


SC: Thanks so much for dropping by. Come back to chat anytime! Let's take a look at your novel now.
AND THIS JUST IN! Tani has priced the novel at .99 for the length of this book tour!


Farraway Mist
Tani Hanes

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Date of Publication: November 17, 2017

ISBN:1973331683
ASIN: B077LCFM6Z

Number of pages: 210

Word Count: 87,210

Tagline: Can she fall in love with a haunted man?

Book Description:

Scout Lawson is fleeing an unhappy past, and thinks she's run as far as she can from Yale University when she lands a job restoring a library in Cornwall, England for reclusive rock star George Wilder, who dropped out of sight after the death of his beautiful wife the year before.

As soon as she arrives at his estate, Farraway Mist, however, strange things start to happen. As the couple's feelings for each other grow, the events become more harrowing, until everything they hold dear is in peril.


Excerpt 1:

She walked over next to the window so she could examine the binding of the book she held in the light. He leaned over curiously, trying to see what she was looking at.
As they bent over the book together, the curtain rod gave one warning rattle and crashed down, catching Scout across the forehead, opening up a flap of skin as she smashed her head on the sill.
"Jesus!"
George yanked the curtain and the offending rod off of Scout as the dogs scurried for cover.
"Scout! Scout! Are you okay?"
She blinked up at him from the floor, nodding, trying to focus. She raised a hand to her temple, but George grasped it and held it away, shaking his head.
"No, don't touch, there's blood," he murmured. Blood?
Jess and Bandit came back, sniffing at her worriedly, making her smile in spite of the circumstances.
"Make sure none of the blood gets on the books," she said, carefully placing the book up on the windowsill.
George smiled at her words as he helped her up.
"Well, I intend to have some very strong words with my staff about how they replaced the curtains after they cleaned them," he said as he led her from the room.
"You have a staff?" Scout said asked in an amused voice.
"Well, okay, I guess 'staff' is rather a grandiose word for Alfred and Sunil from the village," George admitted. Scout was surprised at how relaxed and friendly George sounded. It was a different side to the silent and kind of sarcastic, frightening person she'd met earlier.
They entered what looked like a guest bathroom, and George sat her down on the counter next to the sink so he could delicately dab at a fairly bloody but not deep gash on her temple with a bit of tissue, much to her embarrassment. The dogs hovered and watched.
"I can do this myself," Scout said, laughing.
"Don't be silly," George said, holding the tissue out of reach when she reached for it. "What if you were to become faint at the sight of your own blood and pass out cold, falling off the counter in the process?" He stopped talking so he could look in her eyes, staring from about an inch away. He could feel her warm breaths on his face, and backed up a little.
"When I was ten I rode into a mailbox on my bike while I was turned around yelling something to my friend Kenny, and I had to push my bike home for nearly a mile with my lip torn away from my cheek. It was over an inch long," Scout said conversationally. "I had to hold the skin closed the whole way. I needed seven stitches. You can still kind of make out the scar, see? I was fine, honest."
But George insisted, and Scout finally gave up and let him minister to her, drawing in little hissing breaths as the antiseptic touched the raw wound. He finally stepped back, blowing on it. "Okay, all finished. I think you'll survive. And you might even have another romantic scar."
He looked critically into her pale blue eyes. "Do you have double vision or anything?
I'm a bit concerned about concussion, if I'm honest. I wonder if I should have a doctor out here to examine you?"
"No, I'm sure I'm fine," Scout protested. "Not feeling sleepy?" George persisted.
"Well, a little, but that's probably just jet lag, don't you think?" Scout said. "I promise I won't fall asleep."
George looked at her.
Scout hopped down off the counter and stood before him, a slight figure, standing straight.
George finally nodded.
"How about this, then?" George proposed. "We'll make some coffee, go sit down, and talk until dinner. If you seem fine, that is to say if you're not drowsy or slurring your words or anything, then no doctor, okay?"
Scout nodded too. "Okay," she agreed. "I guess you wouldn't want anyone dropping dead in your beautiful house," she joked.
Oh fuck.
He just looked at her for a moment before leaving the bathroom. She took quick steps and put a hand on his arm.
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Wilder, I really am. I'm always shooting off my mouth and waiting for my brain to catch up," she said contritely.
He looked at her hand, then her eyes before giving her a small, crooked grin. "It's all right." He took a few steps before turning back.
"And Scout?"

She looked at him. "Please call me George."

About the Author:

Tani Hanes was born in Yokosuka, Japan. She spent the first few years of her life traveling back and forth between Japan and the US, making the permanent move to the Central Valley of California when she was five. She visited family in Japan on a regular basis, and attended college in Tokyo for one year at ICU before getting her degree in Language Studies from UC Santa Cruz. She has two children, and was a substitute teacher for fifteen years. Hanes currently resides in New York City with her husband and cats, Moss and Lily.