Sariah's back...

And she's pissed off! *wicked grin* I've not posted in awhile, but I thought to pour a little of my particular bitch werewolf venom in here to fill the gnawing void of fresh blood. :)...

The streets passed unnoticed beneath her feet as she mulled the night's events over in her mind. The full moon hung above her, mocking the humanity she clung to with such persistence. Back home, her Den was full of Werewolves and Pinks, the streets were full of lunatics gone crazy in the moonlight, and somewhere in the city, Xander was in full form, probably tearing his way through another girl who would only live if she was lucky.

Sariah managed to work herself into a foul mood by the time her feet set down upon the planking of her porch. Music still belched from the windows, reverberated from the walls. The cacophony poured out as she opened the door, drowning her in its annoying rhythm. She stepped into the foyer, slammed the door shut and clapped her hands over her ears.

"Turn the fucking stereo off!" She roared.

She waited.

She waited too long.

Sariah caged a growl behind her teeth. She hated to be ignored. She waded through the coupled bodies writhing on the floor of the parlor, kicking a stray male who dared to look at her and didn't look away quick enough. She stopped in front of the wall of vibrating electronic devices and punched the 'POWER' button.

The throbbing pulse stopped, the sudden silence occasionally punctuated by moans or growls of those too engrossed in their carnal pursuits to acknowledge her. Sariah's thigh muscle twitched as she forced back the urge to kick the interloping whelp again.

Meghan showed in the doorway, hands curled to fists on the round curve of her hips. A stunted, unpleasant grin twisted her lips as she locked eyes with Sariah. Tension, thick and heavy, boiled up in the silent space between them.

"Rough night?" Meghan mocked.

"Still pissed about before I see," Sariah threw back.

"Well, it takes a while for me to get over some things." Meghan's eyes narrowed, an angry glare pinched between the lids. "But you wouldn't know about that…"

"Shut up, Meghan."

The redhead crossed her arms over her chest. She shifted her weight on her hips. She returned Sariah's heated glare. "And what if I don't--are you going to kick me, too? Beat me like a Pink?"

"Bitch," Sariah huffed as she pushed past Meghan. She'd had enough of her confidante's insolence, and didn't want to continue on with another argument.

"Takes one to make one!" Meghan shot back.

Sariah stopped dead in her tracks. That particular barb always stung her, and Meghan knew it. She used it like a muzzle to clamp the blonde's mouth shut. Sariah stood on the bottom stair, her rancor sluiced from her. She was empty without that anger to cling to. Her amber eyes turned down to her foot on the stair. "Sorry," she breathed, not sure of whether Meghan heard.

"Sometimes I wish you were…"

"Me too."

Sariah climbed the staircase, slumping her shoulders and allowing her jacket to pour from her back. The bottom hem snagged on her extended left hand and a jacket sleeve thumped the edge of each step. She paused at the top, debating on whether or not to turn and say something more to Meghan. But she knew it was of no use, she could sense that Meghan had retreated to the parlor for solace and a cup of hot tea.

What a night, Sariah fumed. I hate full moons!

She turned the knob on her bedroom door and stepped in. The room was blessedly empty. Sariah closed the door behind her with a shove of her foot, and then whipped her jacket into the closet. Hangers clattered, and clothing fell to the floor to be ignored until morning. The Persian rug, woven in ivory tones and accented with blood roses, accepted her kicked off boots, and then she padded barefoot and peeling off clothes as she walked through the room and toward her bathroom.

The white porcelain tiles were cool beneath her feet when Sariah turned on the light, and she sighed. This was her favorite room in the entire house. The room was pristine--whites, blushes and burgundies--despite the number of times she'd washed away the blood from her path of vengeance.

Naked, Sariah stepped into the tub and turned the faucet handles. Hot water soon lapped along the sides, and she settled deep into the tub, her hair floating mermaid-like around her submerged face. She laid there, body unmoving, but her mind buzzing over the night's events, and her life's dark track. Air bubbled in a thin stream out of her nose, her lungs burned with pressure of kept breath. It would be so easy to end it all, just inhale and drown--easy, if she was human.

Occasionally, Sariah had to remind herself that she was no longer human. This was not, however, one of those moments. The locked door and bath water disguised her bitter tears.

The bath water cooled, to the point of discomfort. Sariah climbed from the tub as the chills prickled and climbed her flesh. She pulled the terrycloth robe up her arms, across her nipples and wrapped it tight around her stomach. Moisture wicked from her skin and into thick fabric as she walked back into her bedroom. She loosed the sash and the robe dropped to the floor.

Sariah scanned herself in a VSE, visual surveillance of extremities. The evidence of her Were tendencies was gone, no fur, no claws, no fangs. Gone, too, was the blood which she’d shed this night, no flesh beneath her fingernails, no sanguine stain in the ridges of her fingerprints.
She sighed.

Naked. Human. Or, at least she appeared that way.

She paused a moment, and then ran a fingertip along the curved seams of her quilt. “Double wedding ring pattern,” her grandmother said, so many moons ago. A sudden sob caught in Sariah’s throat. She snuffled back tears. Not just any wedding ring quilt; it was intended as a gift for her wedding, the wedding that never happened. There’s no marrying a corpse. Stephan Colinford was slaughtered the day before their ceremony, and also the day that Xander turned her Were...
COPYRIGHT 2006

Autumnal offering

In the mood of the season...

The angel breezed by, her wings sparkling and her halo askew. She giggled, a high sweet sound in the deepening twilight. A devil followed close behind, his tail dragging in the gravel, his pitchfork snagged on the angel’s skirts.

Then, their mother walked past. Each engrossed in their pursuit of sweet treats, and all oblivious to me.

I lay beneath a golden maple, upon the carpet of autumn’s splendor. A chill breeze unsettled my costume in its passage. And, the fallen leaves whispered softly beneath my weight--complaining, displeased that my blood stained them scarlet…

Happy Halloween

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

I simply could not resist sharing this with the blogverse. Thanks so much to Andrea for sending the pic to me!

Okay, so news...
1.) Sacrilegious has gotten two fab reviews! Check them out:
CTR gives Sacreligious 4 CUPS!!
And below you can see what Just Erotic Romance Reviews had to say:
In Pursuit of Prey
Rating: 5 Stars Heat Level: O
Sekhmet, a feline goddess, has a need. When she forces herself into human form and creates modern clothing for the hunt, she senses her prey and stalks him, seducing him with her body. Her prey is handsome Mace, used to being in control, but now he totally submits himself to her lust.The whole idea behind this book intrigued me. The cover and subject matter made me eager to read this story. From page one I could feel the need Sekhmet had for sexual release and for her mate. This is a very well-written story with characters that were well developed, for such a short story. Sekhmet came to life on the pages. Her personality is one that defines a goddess. You could almost feel the soft feline hair on her body as she brushed past you. Mace is strong and used to being the Dom but in Sekhmet he’s met his match. The sex starts on page one and gets hotter as the story progresses. I truly enjoyed every bit of it! This was more than mere sex; Sekhmet and Mace have a relationship, a commitment to each other that is one forged in love.
From The Sands
Rating: 5 Stars Heat Level: O
At a costume party called “Devil’s Party”, Bianca feels the eyes of a stranger following her. Their movements seem synchronized. She is overcome with desire but it frightens her so much that she runs away. The stranger follows, almost stalking her; however, when she asks him to come to her, he refuses. He is Anubis, the canine-like god of the dead, but what Bianca does not know is that she had been bound to him for all eternity. This story struck me from page one. I could hardly wait to turn the page to see what would happen next. This is one hot story. I may never look at my dog in the same way again. The sexual tension between the two main characters was intense. Bianca showed little self-confidence; she is the perfect mate for strong and dominant Anubis. Anubis is strong and dominating in a canine way. He is in control from the beginning. He’s silent and stalks Bianca in such a way that the sexual tension builds. It was more than sex; it was a relationship that was born out of love and the past. Anubis just oozed sex. The sex was hot! The plot builds up toward the ending and the sexual tension builds to a climax so much so that I joined in. This story left me breathless and throbbing. I felt as though I belonged to Anubis, I became so involved in this story that I kept forgetting that the story was about Bianca and not me. If you enjoy strong dominant men with a bit of canine instinct thrown in, you must read this book.
Divine Intervention
Rating: 3 Stars Heat Level: H
Maxim is a writer but lately he seems unable to write; something is missing in his life. He heads to the “Kat Klub” knowing he has a deadline and that he will not make it. Sesha is Seshat, the goddess of writing. She knows exactly what Maxim needs: passion and it’s just what she plans to deliver. Maxim submits totally to Sesha only to find the pain of lost passion.This is an unusual story. Divine Intervention is a well-written story; however, I didn’t like either of the main characters. I found Maxim annoying but well developed. Sesha is a strong character, one that enjoys dominating her man. She would enjoy knowing a man longs for her to the point of pain and knows he can never truly touch her heart. This was my least favorite of the three. The plot was interesting. The author demonstrated the need for writers to experience what they are writing about. The sex was hot but I found the relationship lacking. There was little commitment on the part of Sesha. Seeing Maxim suffer made me sad. If you don’t like dominating women, pass on this story.
Annie Deb, Just Erotic Romance Reviews

2.) I am frantically scrambling to pull together a worthy submission for my real name's book due out in December. The editor I contacted is interested in seeing what I have--which at current moment isn't quite enough.

3.)Exciting news, the fabulous cover artist Anne Cain will be designing a custom logo for me for a personal website! It will be a combination of an image from a family heirlom and a personal picture, so it will be a semi-realistic portrait of 'yours truly' as a goddess!!

Okay, back to the grindstone...

Sasha's Suffering

**Because Tempest asked for it...**

Sasha wiped away tears, her fingers leaving swatches of her blood and his powdered flesh across the arch of her cheek. The sanguine pasted liquefied with her tears and trickled down, running across her bottom lip. Absentmindedly, she ran her tongue along her lip, taking in the potent poison of vampire flesh and human pain.

The key of the music box cranked over a turn as she clutched the box tighter to her chest. When she exhaled in a sob, the key turned the box through one chord of the haunting song Raenos had chosen for his bride-to-be. Her heart pounded, hurting in the music box's unnatural rhythm and the ache wrenched a fresh sob from Sasha's throat. She dropped the dagger back to the ashes, and turned the box so that the hinges were away from her. A fouled fingertip ran along the gilded edge, and then she pried the box open. The fixative fumes rushed through her nose, heavy with the iron scent of her lover's last blood. Sasha coughed, the acrid scent burning her nose, and then she dropped the box as well.

She knelt there, amidst his strewn ashes. Her raw wounds soaked in his dusted remains, her throat coated with a mix of his flesh and her tears, her heart now nothing more than an aching organ playing a forced, foreign tune.

A sick numbness settled into Sasha's body. The chill grip of death coiled tighter around her, squeezing the air from her lungs and tears from her eyes. And, when she thought she could ache no more, she twisted the music box's key again to allow the tune to torment her soul. If she was to die by his bite, poisoned by his ashen flesh, then she meant to die listening to the song he chose for her. Sasha wished to slip into the darkness, riding his tune into an eternity of death immersed in his rhythm.

Her body pitched backward, limbs jerking violently in the throes of death. Her lungs seized, her jaw fell open and then her joints locked, yet Sasha's heart pounded in that savage cadence. Her mind throbbed with the rhythm. Her tears, mingled with his toxic dust, dripped between her lips and soaked through the back of her throat.

Everything ceased and the music box's tune was her only perception...

**Tempset Darling, do you realize that there is an entire short story on Sasha in the back of my book Sacreligious? Small price, great story(ies) *wink*... Click here.**

PRIMAL REQUIEM EXCERPT: Sasha's Rise

**This follows after The First Movement: Raenos's Regret, where Raenos ends his life believing that he has killed the only woman he ever loved. Sasha, his lover, survives his bite, and wakes...**

Death lay upon her like a languished lover.

The warmth of his body, the warmth of her blood was gone. Consciousness came and went. Chills swept her body, but her skin no longer held the ability to respond. Her heart scarcely beat, and pumped only ache in a slow dance through inert veins. Breathing took all of her will. Speech would not yield itself, nor would her eyes open to the drama which swept the stage of her hearing.

Sasha was alone, and in torment.

She heard his hymn, she knew his plans. And she was unable to stop him. Raenos was doubly guilty, of his suicide and her inability to prevent it. For though she suffered, lingering near death, she loved him still, no matter his sins. She would have offered her throat had he not taken it; she would have surrendered the sun to live in the shadows with him. But, when he drove that dagger into his own chest, he cut out her heart as well.

His fall was hers.

Raenos had cried out his remorse and fallen silent. A tear slipped down her cheek that she could not wipe away. It trailed down her chin, to mingle in the single track of blood across her neck. Sasha surrendered to the encroaching darkness. She sighed, and fell into the arms of black sleep.

But, her rest was not eternal, as she had hoped.

Hours later, the chill of evening crept through the window and woke her with its icy touch. She shivered, the frigid temperature seeping into the marrow of her bones, shuddering through her limbs. Sasha rolled onto her side, groaning against the pain wracking her. The room spun before her glazed eyes and then righted itself with a sickening lurch. Her stomach convulsed, regurgitating spent acid and clotted blood that had drained into her stomach from Raenos's last kiss. She lay, head hanging only inches above the fetid mess on the floor, the true weight of his attack levied upon her with the sight of her own blood.

Her lover was a vampire. In their passion and his savage hunger, Raenos had lost control of the beast in his blood, riding hard between her thighs as he sank his fangs deep in her throat. His primal instincts drove pain and pleasure through her in rhythmic time as he took her toward climax and death in one.

Bliss burned through her, flooding in waves from her core even as he pulled on the last of her life essence. She gasped once, and her eyes fell closed. Raenos had released her then, his canines, hot as branding irons, ripped out of her flesh. A low moan escaped him as he looked at her pale face, and the thin line of blood which trailed across her flesh. He lifted her head, kissing her lax lips, allowing the metallic spill of her own blood to drain into her gut.

Raenos had stumbled backward, then, tearing at his hair and screaming. He could not forgive himself for his sin; his heart broke with a near audible snap, and, void of emotion as he turned toward his workbench.

Now, he was gone, missing from her side, missing from their bedchamber--missing, she was afraid, from life itself. Sasha refused to believe him dead. She dragged her body off from the bed to fall with a sick thud to the hard floor. The evidence of Raenos's self-afflicted wounds lay in thick pool on the floor, and led in a crimson trail out of the room. Trembling, Sasha followed his path through the hallway, tumbled in a loose mess down the stairs to and came to a stop at the bottom. His blood slick lay atop the fibers of the Persian rug she'd once chose to grace the foyer. Sasha clawed her way across the fibers, over the threshold and out into the shadows of evening.

The truth lay before her.

A scorched ring of black encircled ashes piled in the shape of a man. Sobs wracked Sasha's body, but died in her parched throat. Bringing tears hurt, the moisture stung her dry eyes, yet she cried. She crawled toward the evidence of his demise, her knees rubbed raw, her fingernails broke off, her raw flesh leaving ghosts of red behind as she crawled.

She knelt where his head should be, touching the dust which was once the black waves she loved to run her fingers through. Tears fell freely as his ashes packed her raw wounds. Weak from blood loss and exertion, Sasha dragged her legs beneath her, forced her body into a kneeling position as she pulled her betrothal gift from atop the mound of ashes. She recognized its shape, she had lain and watched Raenos carving it. She stroked its gilded surface with an ash-and-blood fingertip before tucking it into the crook of an elbow as she rescued her lover's dagger from his remains as well.

A spark of light caught her eye. She leaned forward, sifting her hands through her lover's remains until she retrieved Raenos's signet ring. The bauble, an heirloom passed through his family for generations, rested on her palm. A band of warm yellow gold, with a large squared field of red enamel beneath the coiled, black form of a carved onyx dragon. She slipped the ring over the knuckle on the middle finger of her life hand, binding herself to him with what was left of her life.

It was her ring now, his legacy now her burden to bear...

(Copyright, Savannah Jordan 2006)

Concert to close Summer

**WARNING: Gratuitous bitching will ensue**

Yeah. It was supposed to the concert event to close out the Summer (a season I am VERY happy to see end). Well, it started raining the damn day before and didn't stop. And, cold rain, too, the kind of damp cold shyt that is not good for my arthritis.

We decided to go, regardless of the weather, $40 is a lot to choke down. Raingear was dragged out, turtle neck and sweatshirts donned, along with jeans and sneakers. I felt like a kid going to school. Hell, my girlfriend Weezer even wore a yellow slicker! Cute on her, too, but she looked like the Unibomber minus the aviatar sunglasses and facial hair. Abby was bundled in blue. Me?? One of those trashbag looking ponchos--oh yeah, loved that look...

Well, we were stuck parking way the fuck out in the feild on the far side of the fair. We walked through the feild, down the hill and into the fairgrounds. Dozens of other people were wearing trashbag ponchos, so at least I didn't feel like a complete fashion accident on feet. We wondered the lanes of Carnies calling for us to play their games--poor bastards looked pretty dismal sitting there like Mother Nature had handed them their own asses. Needless to say, we ladies were above that, so we moved on. We ended up finding a food vendor who had loaded baked potatoes, so we had some hot, somewhat-wholesome food before walking into the track/venue for the Nickelback/Hoobastank/Chevelle/Hinder concert.

The pisser is, Hinder fucking backed out!! Yeah, the one band we all wanted to see other than Nickelback. I hope that band is making good money somewhere else, because I know they pissed off a lot of Michigan rednecks that night!

The race track looked like a mud pit from Hell, a good damned inch of slippery, sloppy muck sucking at your shoes with every step. Lovely. I don't know if I've ever laid it out here, but I HATE dirt. The entire place was dirt. Ew! We walked from vendor booths at one end of the mudfuckingpit to the other, and Abby finally settled on a Nickelback cap. We slopped our way across the mudfuckingpit to the grandstand seating, such as it was, and we managed to stay dry through Chevelle. Not a bad band, especially for not recognizing anything they played. Well, okay, one or two songs of their songs had a ghost of familiarity.

Then, oh yippee fucking skippee, an usher comes up and tells us we are sitting in assigned seating and that we needed to move. We already knew that. It was just a matter of time before we descended the stairs into Hellmuthafuckingmudpit.

Hoobastank--who choose that name??--was okay, I guess. Not as good as the other band that I didn't know, but hey, it was raining, so what the hell, let's stand through mediocrity while waiting for Nickelback.

FINALLY, Nickelback took the stage. It would have been an awesome moment, seeing as the rain had actually stopped, and the tremors in my thigh had ceased as well. Nope. No way. Not happening. We were accosted with the mating calls of inebriated Squealing ColorGuard Bitches. The moment light swathed Chad Kroeger, the teeny weeny teeny boppers started screeching like bitches in heat. "OMG! He's so fucking hot!" Followed by three rabid magpie others. "OMG!! HE'S SO FUCKING HOT!!" Over and over and over again.

No shit. We all know that he's hot, so does he. He also can't hear a damn thing you're caterwauling in my ear!!! Everything fiber of my being screamed to turn and throttle the Squealers, but last time I checked, infanticide was illeagal. "Shut the fuck up," kept dancing on my lips. I resisted the urge to drive their faces into the quagmire we were all standing in.

Other than that, Nickelback rocked ass. They are one of my favorite bands, and once the flock of Squealers took flight, my girlfriends and I enjoyed the show. They didn't play Follow You Home (my favorite), but every other song was awesome. The best tune of the night, for me, was Savin Me--I love that song--followed closely by Figured You Out.

Oh, and Weezer introduced me to a new tune--big fun!--on the way. Cory Lee's title, The Naughty Song. If you don't have it, and you like that naughty, slink-across-the-floor kind of music, go get it! (My friends out there know my email, so if y'all want it, let me know and I'll email ya the file)

So, in summation, the concert season was awesome, but Summer can get the fuck out. Come on Fall!!

Pissed pussycat

Okay, now I love animals, especially cats, but this video clip had me laughing my ass off...

http://www.break.com/index/looking_for_a_happy_home.html

PRIMAL REQUIEM EXCERPT

Okay, I know it's been a while since I posted something excerpt-ish, so for anyone interested in reading, here's a bit from my upcoming Aphrodite's Apples collection title Primal Requiem.

The First Movement:
Raenos's Regret



Knuckles dripped red. Lamplight flashed from a blade, and his dark irises. Heat built, behind him in the fireplace and within. The rhythm pulsed in his ears, his heart, his soul. Sweat stung his eyes. He pushed back wavy, jet hair and wiped the sweat away, leaving behind a blood-and-sawdust smear. He turned the hand-carved box, examined his craftsmanship--it was nearly done. The tool slipped, its honed edge cutting deep into his hand. His palm now bled, too, the sanguine stain soaking into the raw wood. He smiled, pristine white fangs exposed beneath his lips.

Raenos bled, and it was good.

The blood fell, fat drop by fat drop, to sizzle and steam on the surface as it soaked into the fibers. He watched that poison pour from his vein, and allowed its memories to flood him.

He could see that fire, so very long ago, and the villagers circling it. Lilitu appeared from the shadows, clothed like a goddess and dancing like sin. She was a succubus, beautiful and bewitching, and he felt certain she would be the death of him. He was right--she took his blood, took his life and made him Upyr. She was, however, only a piece to his pained puzzle; she was a dark angel with a darker gift. He eagerly plunged into the fresh passions flowing in his veins, the next few hundred years became a bloody blur, until he found a soul that could touch his again.

Only this time she was human and he was the killer.

She was stunning, sassy yet sophisticated--Sasha warmed his bed, and his heart. Their steamy nights gave rise to new passions within him and he grew to love her deeply. Yet, now she lay upon his bed, her fiery red hair in stark juxtaposition to her pale white countenance. Crimson trailed across her throat like a choker necklace, but he knew better. That red line was her life essence, the spillover from what he had so greedily stolen. If she could wake, she had only death to look forward to. If she did not wake, he hoped her death dreams were not of him, her lover gone mad with blood lust.

Raenos heart pounded its primal rhythm, an echoed back-beat of pain. He had loved her too much--in his fervor, he had loved her to death. He turned back to his work, what was meant to be a betrothal gift for Sasha. His shoulders sank, a tear fell to thin the coating of blood. He stowed away his carving tools, cleared the workbench of clutter and then brought out sheets of gold leaf and paints. Raenos worked with a delicate touch, pressing the gold leaf deep into the detailed carving. His heart pounded in that condemned cadence, pushing hurt and loss through his veins, yet he kept a steady hand as he stroked the paint across the surface.

The box glistened, a beautiful receptacle for the powerful emotions he poured into it. His slit wrist dripped, pumping blood in rhythm with his vampire heart and that blood soaking into the unfinished interior.

Impatience exuded from him, metered out in his pacing as he watch the moon's path--the night was almost over. The paint was still tacky when he picked it up again, but the gold-leafed edges were solid and safe. He used them to brace the box as he fixed the felt lining down. The glue mixed with the iron scent of his blood, giving off a dizzying fume. He sat in his chair only a moment before resuming his pacing. The moon's lip kissed the edge of the tree tops when Raenos took up the music mechanism and the blade.

"Libera me, Domine, de morte æterna, in die illa tremenda, quando coeli movendi sunt et terra," he whispered. "Dum veneris judicare sæculum per ignem."

Then he repeated his personal requiem in Sasha's language, so that she could hear his liturgy if life remained in her. "Free me from eternal death upon that terrible day," He sobbed, wiped away fresh tears and then finished the refrain, "when thou comest to judge the world with fire."

Then, Raenos plunged the blade deep into his chest, cleaving the cavity's surface. The misguided blade severed vessels and pierced a lung, the air wheezing through the ragged cut as he struggled.

"Libera me, Domine, de morte æterna."

Blood trickled from his mouth when he spoke, but then gushed when he drove the blade home. The sharpened edge cut deep into the pumping muscle, that organ which ever played his eternal tune of torment. The immortal rhythm faltered. Blood deluged the box which he clutched to his chest with one arm. With the other arm, he twisted the buried blade.

"Dum veneris judicare sæculum per ignem."

Raenos stowed the dagger in a sheath at his waist and sank to his knees. He placed the box upon the floor, fished the musical mechanism from the sanguine spill within. Tears fell as he poured off the excess blood from its depths; he cared not to encapsulate his sanguine shame, only the last of his life blood would be kept. Fingers faltered as he removed the key then, he nestled the music box in the corner, and reinserted the key from the outside.

**copyright 2006, Savannah Jordan**

CONTEST WINNERS!!

The contest to 'Get Sacrilegious' has come to a close, and with the help of my daughter, two names have been drawn.

*drum roll please*

"And the winners are:" Jude Mason, and Michelle Bauer!!

The winners email addresses have been forwarded to my publisher, and Aphrodite's Apples will be contacting them with the passwords and info to download their free copy of Sacrilegious.

Congratulations to the winners, and thanks to everyone who entered!

Bright Blessings!
Savvy

GET SACRILEGIOUS!!

CONTEST TO 'GET SACRILEGIOUS'

Okay, Everybody, I've thought about this one for a while now. It's time for a promo, time for a contest, time to giveaway a copy of the e-book! But, of course, being 'me,' I can't make it easy on ya. MUAhahaha

So, here's the rub: answer three questions about the deities of Sacrilegious, email your answers to me, and the one who answers them all correctly will win. In the event of a tie for number of correct answers, I will draw names.

You have one week. Next Wednesday I will contact the winner.

Here are your questions:

1. Anubis, jackal-headed god of the dead, has another name that begins with 'A,' and has only four letters--what is it?
2. Sekhmet, goddess of sexual heat and vengeance, is also known as 'The Eye of" whom?
3. Seshat, goddess of writing and numbers, is often depicted wearing the pelt of which animal?

And the email to send the answers to is:

savannahsjordan@yahoo.com

Good luck!

THANK YOU, CANDICE!!

My regular visitors here might notice the difference. Might not. But, I sure do, and I have to give a great big thanks to my good friend Candice Gilmer for dressing up my bog. I am no tech diva, and the changes made here were made by Candice. And, on top of being tech savvy and a good friend, she's also a great writer! If you're into sci-fi, or romance, or just a good read, go check out Candice's title Unified Souls, available in e-book from Aphrodite's Apples Press.

THANKS CANDICE!!!

SACRILEGIOUS IS RELEASED!!!

Explore the decadent couplings of Egyptian deities and their mortal consorts.
Savor the sensuality of their intense passions.
Sacrifice yourself on the altar of the gods…

That's right! I am back on the blogs and my book has been released. Check out Sacrilegious at the launch of Aphrodite's Apples Press. And while you're there, shop around, the other gals have some great reading just waiting for you!

Oh, and make sure to check out my photographer's website www.volkstudio.com He's a brilliant guy, and I highly recommend working with him if you ever need a professional photographer. And, his model Lorraine is just gorgeous. :)

Gorram Mosh Pit!!!!

Yeah, you read that right. Wasn't intended. Believe me. The lead singer of Shinedown had the thousand-plus crowd part the ways like Moses and the Red Sea. Then he said, "Now that you know what it's like to be separated, I want you to come together and share you energies in a tornado of..." I couldn't hear a gorram thing past that for the rushing tide of flesh and the wails of the trampled. Thousand-plus people churning, bumping, thumping, pushing, pulling, tugging, crying and swearing. A damn MADHOUSE!! And, I did not come out unscathed. That's right. Thanks to, well, 'opposing f-ig forces' I have a severe strain in the tendons of my left elbow.

Yeah, fun....

Quote from #1 Reader... "Yee and might I say Ha."

Good thing the music was rocked.

SPIDERMAN 3 Trailer

Yeah, I know, lots of links lately, but DAMN I am SO there!!!!

http://www.break.com/index/spiderman3trailer.html

Give and take

Give and take
neglecting you
hurting me
the wrist aches
the blade bleeds
cut it out
cutting me
forgiving you
forgetting me
the precipice beckons
the feet betray
step over the edge
stand alone
telling you
listening to me
no quarter given
none deserved
give and take
of hurting you
hurting me
no me left
tears took it all
hurting you
killing me

LINKAGE

Supreme awesome ass linkage!! The DH sent me this link.
http://www.worksafevideos.com/music_videos/
OMG it's so much fuckin fun!! Do not follow unless you want to waste a LOT of time... *sigh*

My two favorites, so far at least are,
BLUE MURDER's Jelly Roll
http://www.worksafevideos.com/music_videos/videos.php?vid=PsSxJcPcmcM
(massive botty shakin' going on!)

BULLET BOYS' Smooth up in ya (of course!)
http://www.worksafevideos.com/music_videos/videos.php?vid=TM6wp8KHCTg
(Smooth up in ya... enough said)

MUAhahahahaha Remember that if you ever see me live. Like Kat says in Ten Things I Hate About You, "I'm Scary."

Whipping cookies

No, I am not baking. My brain is whipping cookies in my skull. Round and round and round. Edits, writing, edits, writing... Oh, and Hey! For fun let's throw in working up a submission to DH Press with whom I made contact through a pilfered picture.

I've finished the Sacrilegious stories, except for a the afore mentioned edits and a scene fluffage or two. I still have the novel to finish rewriting for Samhain. And all I want to do is bury my head in my bitch Sariah. The vampires are rising up through my author guts, too, though. I can feel their particular poison spread in pulses of dark seduction through my veins. *sigh* Sanguinary shadows...

BTW, for any of you wondering, I found out who painted my avatar pic. Her name is Victoria Frances, and she is super talented!! The editor from DH Press sent me her first graphic novel, Favole, Stone Tears. You can find products with her artwork on it on www.darkhorse.com The picture I have been using is named Libera Me. And, if it wasn't for that picture, I most likely would not be in contact like I have been with the senior editor at DH Press. So, in a round about way... Thank you, Victoria!

Okay, now how about an excerpt for y'all?? This will be about mid way through HUNTED:

Sariah was not dressed for killing. Her low rise demins clung to her ass and showed off the crystal in her navel and those on the back of her thong. Her blouse, if you could call it that, covered her breasts but barely and cascaded in filmy gauze down her arms. Her choker was tight, black, with a bloody red pendant hanging at her throat. She wore nothing else. There was no need. She ruled here. This was her turf, her territory.

The lights throbbed, the speakers bled rhythm. The recirculated air blew sex, smoke and arrogance. Yet, still she could smell him. His pompous depravity accosted her sinuses.

"That bastard is here somewhere," she snarled under her breath. Meghan stopped dead in her tracks. "Keep moving," Sariah barked. "He doesn't need to know that we are aware of him. Better that he doesn't know. Better for us. Better for me…"

It would end this night, Sariah would see to it. She was going to find Xander and she was going to rip his heart out, like he had done to her.


**It's good to be back**

Book Expo America

Holy crap, Jordanites! That was one helluva ride. Never, never have I seen so many books and so many people in my friggin life! That convention center's lower level could have easily contained the downtown district of my entire town! No. Seriously. That place is HUGE. Big enough to have it's own newspaper of the convention's events, and have maps all over to find the thousands of exhibitors.

I made some great contacts, too, buzzed up some interest in my work. There won't be names dropped here in the blog, but I can put out some links to webby's of those people I spoke to for various projects:
M PRESS/DH PRESS (senior editor)
Wizards fo the Coast (Brand Director)
The RGU Group (Pub and Marketing manager asked to see my children's story and stuffie!)
Llewelyn Worldwide (not sure of her position but, damn, she was a sweatheart! They are interested in looking at a proposal for a non-fic project title Soul Deep, about soul's connections)
New Page Books (Michael somebody, don't remember his title. He's also interested in the the non-fic title)

They are others that we spoke with, but the one's listed above showed interest in me and my work. So WOO HOO!!!

Funny thing is, the guy from M PRESS/DH PRESS, I had no idea how big of a person he is with the imprint or in the parent company (because it's an imprint of a f*cking huge comic book house). I was just normal ole sassy me. I stopped to admire a cover, and he stepped up and asked, "Are you a Vampire D reader?" I replied, "No, I'm a vampire writer." From there, he started asking pointed questions, like "time period" to which I replied, "Ancient Egypt to Celtic Ireland, to the Burning Times to modern day for my vampires, modern day for my Were's, because I figure why limit yourself?" The rest were answered in a similar rather SavannahSass manner. He ended up smiling, handing me his card and telling me to get in touch with him.

The lady we spoke with at WOC was nice. My agent gave her a quick run down of Dark, and then she said, "Savannah (named changed for obvious reasons) can tell you about her Werewolf." Oy! So, I start laying out the concept for Sariah and she's loving it. She says they are looking for manuscripts like that. So, is Savannah-style I say, "Would you like to look at one more?" And I whip out my only copy of the printed proposal. She took it and my b'ness cards, too!

The gal from Llewellyn gave me a set of tarot cards (major arcana). They are goregeous! And I got a major buttload of freebies and ARCs. Although I didn't pick up anything in my own genre; pagan stuff mostly and some things for my kids. One or two ARC's for me, and a whole bunch of catalogs. Oh, and the guy from DH PRESS sent me home with a awesome 'coffin' of artwork from their artist.

And, the Anubis story was finished on the airplane on the way home. Now I just need to type it in and then *ahem* get on with the guy's POV story. Heeehehehehe Basically that means I will still be kind of quiet for the rest of the week.

Missed y'all madly!!

The last victim lay, crushed and eviscerated, beneath her second floor balcony. A red trail led up her trellis. Shed fur and nails clumped upon her chamber floor. She sat, quill to parchment. Blood dripped from her jaws to stain the paper and foul the feathers pinched in her fingers as she wrote:

I Would Cease…

I would that this renegade heart
Cease within my breast
That I might be free of its permanent pain

I would that this severed soul
Cease its tattered bleeding
That I might be free of this venom not my own

I would that I not be this beast,
Cease to be that, which I most despise,
That I might not suffer such sanguine savagery

I would that I had died when he left me,
Cease in my quest for life
For in the blessed death of sleep I would be free

I would live this life no more
Cease the slaughter I embraced
For alive, alone, my heart howls in silence

I would cease…

~by Sariah DuShayne, upon the hundredth full moon