What would you like to tell readers about yourself?
* I write romance: m/f, m/m, and v/h, where the h is for human and the v is for vampire … or sometimes demon … I lean more towards funny than angst. When I’m not writing I take care of tiny premature babies or teenagers, depending on whether I’m at home or at work. My husband is a soul of patience, my dog’s cuteness is legendary, and we share the homestead with three ferrets. Who steal things. Because they’re brats.
* I can be found on-line at all hours of the day and night at the links below.
* Come find me. We’ll have fun!
Opposites attract, but secrets divide.
* Ronnie Durand is a country boy who transfers to the University of Washington after two years at Central. He'll have to give up playing football, though finishing his education at a major university in Seattle - and being out and proud without having to look over his shoulder - makes the sacrifice worthwhile.
* But finding friends at a huge school is tough, especially when the hottest guy Ronnie meets makes him doubt his own sanity.
* Sang's been on his own a long time. He's only a couple steps away from living on the street, and he's got dreams so big they don't leave space for a steady boyfriend. Then he meets Ronnie, who just might be strong enough to break through his barriers....as long as Sang lets him in on one big secret.
* But I do grab a pamphlet explaining why marijuana should be legal, because duh.
* The Ave is busier than the campus, mostly with college kids wandering through the pizza places to the used book stores to the faded pubs. A steady stream of cars rolls past, blunting the crisp fall air with exhaust. I'm about to duck into the College Inn Pub when Sang comes around the corner of 40th St.
* Surprise hits me harder than the coffee I had for breakfast, fading to a rock-hard blast of desire. His long hair is twisted into a bun and secured with a pair of glossy black sticks. His faded gray tunic hits him about mid-thigh, his legs are bare, and he's wearing a beat-up pair of Dr. Martens and a long feathered earring. Maybe I’m weird, but I want him in all his freaky, funky beauty.
* I cross my arms and wait. There's no place for him to go except right past me. Across the street, someone bursts out cursing and a driver lays on their car's horn. I glance over. No blood. I glance back. No Sang. Dammit. There's only one store between me and where I saw him last, and it's one of those one-off Asian places where the window's crowded with candies and porcelain bowls and small brass Buddhas. Nowhere else he could have gone, so I push through the door.
* The light is much dimmer than outside, and it takes me a minute to adjust. I catch a flash of white in the corner, Sang's feather. He's contemplating a display of colored packages, but all the labels are in some other language, so I don't know what they are. I walk up behind him, close enough to pick up his unique scent through the store's incense and sesame oil smell.
* "Don't crowd me, Sugar Cookie." He doesn't turn around.
* Right. I take another step, close enough for the hem of his skirt to brush against my shorts.
* He spins around and puts his hand on my chest. "What are you doing?" He sounds indignant, but his eyes are laughing.
* And his smile strips me bare.
* "I was thinking about grabbing a beer next door." I flick the feather with my index finger. "Wanna join me?"
* His smile softens, and he tugs my hand away from his earring, lacing our fingers together.