Excerpt for In The Beginning

PROLOGUE
1005 A.D.


Lifting the amber ring from the potion, Eyanna realized she felt like the witch some of the local townspeople accused her of being. She shook her head slightly to dispel the thought, concentrating instead on the light that glowed from the ring. She’d poured every bit of magic she possessed into making the amulet. It had to be perfect. She had to protect Adam. He’d given up so much to marry her. If only she felt worthy of his love.
Holding the ring close to her heart, she whispered secret incantations. Then she pierced her skin with the blade she’d prepared for this occasion. Allowing her blood to cover every facet of the stone, she whispered more prayers, forgetting for the moment the right or wrong of what she was doing. She had no choice. Adam had faith in God, more than anyone she’d ever known. But his faith would not be enough to protect him from what was coming. There was an evil presence in their town. She’d sensed it long before she’d begun to see it in her dreams.
Vampires. Only Adam didn’t believe in vampires just as he didn’t believe in witches. He wasn’t afraid of her visions or her abilities to heal. Nor was he afraid when she predicted the future with total accuracy. He loved her, that much she knew. She’d looked into his soul and found it pure. His love for her was the reason she now buried the amber ring soaked in her blood beneath the earth. It had to stay in the ground for one full month to be effective. The evil that was coming for her husband was powerful; the magic to protect him had to be even more powerful. There was no way she could tell Adam what she’d done. Despite his love for her, she suspected he wouldn’t like finding out that she was resorting to such measures after he’d given up the church to marry her.
Rising from the ground, Eyanna brushed her foot over the mound of fresh-turned soil. A shiver ripped through her and again she felt the evil. Vampires were real. If only she could convince Adam of that. She hoped she had time to work the full ritual. The longer Adam wore the amulet, the more powerful it would become. As long as he wore it, he would be safe. No harm would befall him.
***

One month later
Holding the ring in the palm of her hand, Eyanna felt the charge that filled it. Her blood had sealed the ring. Her bargain had been struck. Her eventual death would be the catalyst that would invoke the powerful magic she’d placed on the ring. The incantations and potions would only continue to grow in strength the longer Adam wore the ring. And hopefully one day they would both live again and her blood bond with him would bring them back together. She truly believed their souls would be reunited.
“I have something for you.”
“What is it?” Adam asked.
“It’s a ring, silly.”
“I can see that. But why?” He glanced at his finger. “I already have a ring, your wedding gift to me.”
She should have anticipated her logical husband’s questions. “This ring is special, Adam, I fashioned it especially for you.”
His lips brushed cross her cheek. His heat seared her and she could feel the evidence of his lust. One glance into his eyes and they would be making love. As much as she craved her husband’s touch, this was too important to leave for even a second longer. So much had happened in the month the ring lay beneath the earth.
“You can keep the other ring, Adam. But I want you to wear this one on your left hand close to your heart.”
Adam held up his left hand to look at the ring he now wore. “You’re a silly woman,” he said. “The right hand is just as good. This ring is my wedding gift from you. I can’t remove it.”
“Stop it, Adam!” Eyanna forced the words out. She’d never before spoken rudely to her husband and a shimmer of remorse slithered down her spine. “This is important to me. This ring is special, Adam.”
“So is this one.”
Their eyes locked and Eyanna took in a deep breath. She was going to have to give him more. “This is an amulet,” she stated quietly. “I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true that there are supernatural creatures in our world…in our town. Vampires. I’ve felt them and seen them in my dreams. The wounds I’ve attended to on the townspeople…they’ve been bitten. I made this ring to protect you.”
“Witchcraft, Eyanna?”
“Are you now thinking I’m a witch?”
“I’m asking if this ring you’re so frantically trying to give me has been tampered with. You called it an amulet. What have you done to make it so?”
“Fashioned it with love, allowed the power of the moon and sun to fill it.”
“There is but one power on earth and that’s the power of God.”
“And I have invoked the power of God to shield you with this ring.”
“Invoked?” Adam’s eyes darkened. “Invoked, Eyanna?”
“Prayed, Adam. I’ve prayed.” Her eyes closed. She could not tell him anymore.
“Eyanna, what’s going on? Is it the fire? Don’t worry, my love, I will never allow anyone to burn you. They would have to burn me first. Besides, I already prayed to God and asked him to protect you, to save you from the townspeople, to save you from that horrible fire they insist on keeping.”
“And?”
“And I got my answer from God.” He smiled broadly and kissed his wife’s forehead. “You’re here in my arms, aren’t you? I will never lose you. I will not lose you!” he said more sternly. “Now, stop talking about supernatural creatures and protecting me with amulets.”
He used the pad of one finger to tilt her chin upward. “And, Eyanna, you must stop spouting this nonsense to people. Two men were burned in that fire two days ago. The people claimed they were vampires. I don’t know where they got that idea, but I know it’s not true. Those men were friends of mine. They were Christians, Eyanna, not vampires. God would never allow something as horrible as you describe to befall the faithful. Even if there were such creatures, surely a person’s belief in God would prevent it from happening to them.”
“But Adam—”
“No buts. I stand firm on this.” He brought her closer. “I’m so sorry that I don’t have the means to take you away from this place. Then maybe your dreams would stop. I should have never married you. I want so much more for you than a life of want.”
“Being poor doesn’t bother me, Adam, it never did. My only worry is that I’ve taken you from what you loved the most.”
“No, no, my love, you’re what I love the most.” He took a deep breath and turned away as he blew it out. “My not shepherding the flock doesn’t mean I’ve lost my connection to God. My loving you is right. Our marriage was ordained by God. You know that, I’ve told you often enough. Now please tell me what is really troubling you.”
“I’m so afraid that something will happen to you, that you will be taken from me. Please just humor me, wear the ring.”
“I must know what you’ve done.”
“Call it the wishes of a wife to give her husband a gift. I didn’t know I would have to work so hard to give you a gift, to tell you how much I love you. Perhaps you don’t want my gift because you have become tired of me.” She brought her eyes to his and held his gaze. “Perhaps you regret your decision to leave the church. “
Eyanna allowed a tear to fall, feeling guilty as she did so. Adam had such a tender heart; a woman’s tears would always be his undoing. Another tear fell. “If you think me evil, Adam, I will leave this very night.”
Before the words were done he was holding her in his arms. “I love you, Eyanna, my beautiful wife. I will love you for all eternity. That is my promise and my pledge to you. I will never stop loving you, never. If I live for a thousand years I will love you. If I die and am reborn, I will continue to love you. And if you should die, I will plead with God night and day to return you to me. You’re my reason for living. My soul cannot live without you.”
He took his wedding ring from his finger and slid it unto his right hand, then allowed his wife to place the ring with the huge amber stone on his left hand close to his heart, as she’d requested. The metal scorched his flesh. “Ouch,” he said. When he attempted to remove it, Eyanna stayed his hand.
“Leave it,” she said. “It will be alright. It’s just some herbs causing the heat.”
“Herbs?” Adam laughed. “You expect herbs to protect me from what you say are vampires?”
“Adam, listen to me. This is very important. I want a promise from you.” His lips were hot, trailing kisses across her skin. “Adam, please promise me.”
“I promise. I will never take this ring from my finger.”
“I mean it, swear it.”
“You know I can’t swear.”
Blinking rapidly, Eyanna saw the young priest her husband had been before he left the church. “I’m sorry, Father.” She shook her head. “I forgot.” She gazed into her husband’s eyes as fear for his safety began to grip her. She needed him to swear for the spell to be complete.
“I’m sorry, I forgot I’m no longer a priest. You don’t have to call me Father anymore. I’m your husband. I swear that I will never remove this ring from my finger. I will wear it always.”
“Not even to wash, Adam, nothing. Do you understand? Never take this ring from your finger, never. Understand?”
“Eyanna?”
“Swear to me, Adam.”
“There are no such things as vampires.”
“It doesn’t matter if you believe me. Just swear. And this time I want you to mean it.”
“This ring will not protect me. Only God can do that.”
“Swear,” Eyanna insisted as tears fell from her eyes. “Please swear this to me.”
“If I do, will you stop this nonsense and allow me to make love to my wife?”
“Yes.”
“In that case, I swear I will never remove this ring from my finger for as long as I live. I will keep it next to my heart and I will always think of you, my love.” His lips touched the ring and he felt a strange tingle but forgot it as he caught the lips of his wife.
“I love you, Adam. You’re all I’ve ever wanted. I will try to be worthy of you, I swear.”
“You are worthy of me. Now hush and stop talking, woman, I’m trying to kiss you.”
Vampires. Adam thought it was nonsense, Eyanna was aware of that. She felt the lust beginning in Adam as he held her more firmly. Then she heard the moan deep in his throat and all thoughts of vampires slid out of her mind.














Chapter One

Present Day Chicago

The memory flashed through Adam, searing his soul. He felt the fire lick her skin, burning away her flesh, and he screamed out in agony. After a thousand years, he was still tortured by memories from the past.
Adam shivered as he felt the call of another’s blood. Eve. He’d learned her name, entered her dreams and she’d entered his soul.
He wanted her, and not just for a night of pleasure. He wanted Eve for eternity, or at least her lifetime. But she wasn’t the woman who now occupied his bed. Her, he wouldn’t bother to call a second time.
“What’s wrong?”
He could barely see the woman in his bed for the red haze that clouded his vision. He held on to her words, needing them to bring him back into the now. It wasn’t working. What she was doing gave him pleasure but it wasn’t enough. His flesh quivered in her mouth as she attempted to drain him of every drop. It should be enough to stop the images, but it wasn’t. Eve was near and he knew it. His body tensed as he breathed in hard, thinking of her.
With a swiftness that even his vampiric knowing couldn’t forestall, Adam hauled the woman upward in the bed and sank his fangs into her neck. He needed something to obliterate his pain. It fell short because he saw only his companion’s pain, a woman whose name he couldn’t remember.
The blood, hot and fruity, flowed into him, but he felt no rush. There was a sourness to it. The memories—if only it would wash away the memories. But it didn’t. It produced more memories.
“With this ring I thee wed.”
“I love you, Adam.”
“I hate you, Adam.”
An image followed his thoughts: him helpless, Eyanna screaming out in agony. And fire, so much fire, and then more pain; his, hers.
“You’re hurting me, please stop.”
The pitiful moan from the woman in his arms reached him and brought him away from the pit of madness. He searched his memory for her name but it remained elusive. The only name that came to him was Eve and this woman lying in his bed, in fear, wasn’t Eve.
He could barely see his companion for the evening but the haze was lifting. Adam crooned his apologies before licking the wound and cauterizing the area. Master vampire that he was, he’d lost control. It was time he met Eve in person. She was infecting his senses.
When the haze totally cleared, Adam saw the fear in her eyes. Anna, that was her name. “Don’t worry, Anna,” he whispered to her. “For the rest of the evening I will give you only pleasure.”
He moved down her body, finding her slick with sweat. The stench of fear covered her, but he ignored it. He owed her, owed her the pleasure he’d promised her.
When his mouth found her breast taut and ready, Adam could see the fear in her draining away. When the night was done he would be left with her taste in his mouth and she would be left with memories of the greatest night of pleasure of her life.
Adam looked at the woman’s neck before moving down her body. As always, the puncture marks were gone. Now only a bruise remained, which would fade before she left his home. He forced himself to pay more attention to Anna, to stay his mind from Eve. There was plenty of time for him to make contact with her.
***

The sauce from the shrimp scampi dribbled back into the plate. Adam looked down at it, pushing his fork through the food, his mind not on eating but on the woman sitting a couple of tables in front of him. This mortal was truly magnificent. “Eve,” he said, caressing her name and sending his touch to her shoulder. He saw her shudder, felt her heat and smelled her essence as it flowed from between her thighs.
No more proof was needed. Eve’s soul was answering the call of his soul. She’d heard him the entire time. Even when he’d released her from the trance, she’d heard him. Eve belonged to him now; he’d branded her as his own. Very soon he would go to her and offer her a life filled with exquisite pleasure. She would accept him, what mortal wouldn’t?
As he watched the mortal man sitting with Eve, Adam bristled and ran his fingers back and forth over the grooves his nails had furrowed in the wooden table. He’d seen the mortal pinching Eve, trying to bring her out of the trance. Little did the man know that only Adam could release Eve. And little did he know that Adam wanted to kill him for hurting her. She belonged to him now and Adam would not tolerate the mortal hurting her.
He smiled as Eve glared at the man. When he heard her words, Adam’s smile turned into a grin. It appeared that Eve could take care of herself. Rather than being afraid of the trance she had been in, she was angry with her companion.
He glanced curiously at the amber ring that sat on his finger, as it had for a thousand years. For some reason Adam couldn’t fathom, the ring had burned his flesh. The sensation had lasted less than a nanosecond but he’d felt it. Very curious, he thought as he looked at the ring and blinked at the glow it emitted. He glanced in Eve’s direction, watching as she brushed her hand through her hair and gazed at him.
For a second, Adam made eye contact with her before deciding to glance away. “Very soon, Eve,” he whispered into her mind, “very soon.”

***
“Snap out of it, Eve, we’re in public.”
She heard Eric’s voice, had heard him for the past few seconds but she couldn’t explain what was happening to her. It was as it always was, a voice calling out to her. The voice sounded as though it were filled with terror, then anger. It was something she couldn’t identify but had known her entire life. Something or someone was after her. It was as though she was falling into the pit of hell and couldn’t stop the slide, although she desperately wanted to. For most of her life, sexual dreams had dominated her sleep. Telling her mother had done no good. Telling her minister had been even worse. He’d thought she was possessed. Fear of the reaction kept Eve from revealing the powerful attraction she felt for the man shadowing her dreams. She struggled not to hope that he was real.
A shudder of awareness pulled at her and she glanced around before blinking her eyes and settling her gaze on Eric.
“Eve, snap out of it.”
She couldn’t believe it, she felt pain. Eric was pinching her. How had she ever allowed herself to become involved with him? She wasn’t in love with him and he wasn’t in love with her. They were each using the other.
Eve wanted to be with Eric, hoping his connection with the church would save her. Her instincts told her that if the man in her dreams truly existed, he would have the power to destroy her. Countless times her mother had found her naked and writhing on the bed because of her dreams. Eve couldn’t stop the dreams but putting a lock on her door had relieved her mother from having to witness whatever was happening to her. Nothing gave relief to Eve. Neither doctors nor psychiatrists had been able to help. The only clear path had been for Eve to pray, to devote her life to goodness.
Months of observing Eric in a psychology class had convinced her that the life her minister had preached for her to lead was indeed possible. She constantly prayed that Eric’s pious demeanor would somehow rub off on her. Her minister had told her that evil was threatening to overtake her. And she feared it was near.
Eric, on the other hand, was fighting his own demons. Eve wasn’t stupid. The man had never been turned on by her. Eve provided respectability for Eric. It kept the women in the church from pursuing him and it kept his father from badgering him about finding a woman and settling down. Eve fit the bill. She deferred to Eric on religious matters, and her manner of dress spoke of a woman without sexual needs. She would make the perfect wife for the son of a priest. They were together because of their needs, not their desires. Neither had voiced this, but they both knew and they accepted it.
“Eve, stop it.”
Eric’s voice had taken on a cruel edge and his fingers were pinching her skin harder than before. She blinked and blinked again, trying harder to come back, trying to sever the ties with the man who kept coming to her in her dreams. She could swear she’d seen him in the daylight hours watching her, following her. Feeling a touch on her neck, a finger brush across her skin, she’d turned many times trying to catch him, but there’d always been no one there. The feelings were getting stronger. Either Eve was going mad or evil had found her. A tremor touched her soul. Some part of her wanted him. The knowledge came swiftly. It seemed that all her life she’d waited for this man, knowing what he represented. And it hadn’t mattered.
“Eric, are you crazy? Stop pinching me.”
“Where were you? This time you were out for almost five minutes, just staring out into space. It’s freaky.”
“Excuse me if I embarrassed you,” Eve said with all the sarcasm she could muster. “The pinching wasn’t necessary.”
“It was,” Eric fumed. “I looked like a fool sitting at the table with you in a trance. You have a problem. Maybe you should get some help.”
“And maybe you should get help for yours,” she glared. “You think you’re better than I am because your father’s a priest. You think that gives you an automatic pass into heaven. Being judgmental is a sin, Eric. Perhaps your father could counsel us both.”
Eric blanched, visibly shaken. “Just try to control it from now on. I’ll pray for you,” he muttered.
“Pray for yourself,” Eve said. She wished she could call him on not being in love with her, but then she’d have to call herself on not being in love with him.
“And you wonder why I don’t take you out more.”
He said these words under his breath, but Eve heard them, just as she was meant to. For the millionth time she wondered if giving up on her life in order to find peace from a phantom was really worth it.
“Eve, Eve, Eve.”
The voice in her head was calling to her again in a singsong fashion and she fought hard to keep from going under again. She thought of her earlier musings regarding Eric. Her relationship with him was managing to keep her sane, just barely. Still, she remained on this side of the locked psychiatric ward, the side where she chose to remain.

***

Catching the scent of Turkish tobacco, Adam turned to spot Sullivan. He had to be more careful. Adam made a mental note not to take his former friend lightly. He’d heard the rumors that Sullivan planned to overthrow him. It was nothing new; the vampire tried it every fifty years or so.
“Why are you following me?” Adam turned toward Sullivan and gave a snort of derision at Sullivan’s companion, a little weasel of a vampire. Uriel was the worst of the vampire lot, no class, no loyalty.
“This is a public club and I owe you no explanation,” Sullivan said.
A sigh of regret for the things that had torn their friendship apart seized Adam. He took several breaths, readjusting his thoughts, and leveled both with a glare meant to instill terror. In Uriel it did.
“We were not following you, Adam.” Uriel spoke in a hurried voice, stopping when Adam wagged a finger negatively beneath his nose.
Sullivan turned slowly toward Uriel with a look of disgust. For a long moment, he stared. Then he turned toward Adam. “You have a business to run. Don’t you ever worry that I’ll one day take it over?”
“If I was worried, then I wouldn’t have put you in charge.”
“Do you think that makes up for what you did?” The mild irritation Sullivan had displayed toward Uriel was nothing compared to his blind fury toward Adam. “It does not, Adam, and one day I will make you pay.”
“If working for me is so hard, why don’t you leave? You’re a damn vampire; you don’t need me.”
Sullivan studied Adam before allowing his voice to fall back into the cultured tones he preferred. “I want to remain a thorn in your side for the rest of eternity.”
“If you live that long,” Adam said softly with not even a hint of malice in his voice.
“Then as long as I live.”
An impatient breath came from Adam before he could stop it. He had expressed his regret for the last three hundred years, and yet Sullivan had not forgiven him. “Why the hell don’t you smoke the damn things,” he asked and reached for Sullivan’s package of cigarettes that he always toyed with, never daring to smoke. “What?” he asked, looking from Uriel to Sullivan. “Do you think smoking these will kill you?”
“I don’t find you amusing,” Sullivan said quietly.
“You don’t find me anything, but I find you are beginning to bore me.” Adam lit a cigarette and glanced around the club. “Why don’t the two of you find yourselves a companion for the evening, make love, taste some fresh blood. It might be just what you need,” he said pointedly to Sullivan.
“You know very well I don’t desire mortals,” Sullivan replied, glaring at Uriel. “We came here to talk to you, Adam, not to go to bed with mortals.”
Annoyed by the way Uriel was almost salivating as his gaze followed Adam’s around the crowded club made Sullivan snap, “Uriel, remember the job.”
“I remember, but perhaps Adam is right. One more night more or less will not hurt. I do desire mortal women. I don’t discriminate.”
For the first time since sitting, Uriel was displaying an independent thought. The strong smoke drifted upwards into his nostrils and Adam waved it away, then looked at the cigarette in his hand and snapped his fingers, turning the half-burned cigarette into ash.
“You could have just put the thing out in the ash tray…like any other…”
“Mortal? But I’m not a mortal, neither are you. And those things you buy don’t make you into one.”
“And neither does your lusting after one,” Sullivan fired back indignantly.
“Gentlemen, please, there are much better things we can be doing with our time than fighting each other.” Uriel took one of Sullivan’s cigarettes, lighting it by snapping his finger as Adam had done. Then he laughed, shaking his head in the direction of both of them. “Who would believe it, one vampire who doesn’t desire to bed those of our kind, and another who won’t bed mortals.” He laughed harder in spite of the angry looks both Sullivan and Adam were tossing his way. “I do them all,” he confessed. “Blood is blood.”
“And you make such a mess of it.” Secretly Adam was glad that the little weasel had chosen to change the conversation. He hated doing battle with Sullivan over the same old things. An exaggerated sigh filled the momentary pause before Adam continued. “There are other places to inflict your bite, Uriel, places that won’t be seen.”
“I could care less about leaving a mark. I want these mortals to know I exist.” Uriel studied the mortals in the club, then hissed, “I want them to fear me.”
“They fear none of us. We are but things they see on the screen. They make up excuses for us. They write books and make movies and they have determined what we do and don’t do and how we behave. It’s all very funny really when you think about it.”
“All of it is not made up, Adam. All of us cannot walk out into the sun or keep holy water in our homes. All of us cannot wear a crucifix. And none of us have dared to walk into a church and sit.”
“But you could.” This Adam said softly, once again remembering the friendship he’d enjoyed with him long before he’d betrayed Sullivan. “There is no expiration on the offer I made to you.” He glanced toward Uriel and entered Sullivan’s mind. Their conversation was not for the weasel.
Adam repeated his offer. “Take my blood.” He stared directly into Sullivan’s eyes, hoping this time Sullivan would take his offer. Perhaps that would make up for Adam’s killing Joanna. Even though her death was accidental it had been at Adam’s hand. He stared intensely into Sullivan’s eyes, keeping the mind lock with him. Then he blinked, unable to pretend. Joanna had been the last woman Sullivan had loved and the only mortal. Since then Sullivan had never touched another mortal woman in the act of love, only to feed.
“What you have, Adam, is a rare mutation, something that happens in less than a half of one percent of vampires. You can’t just give your immunity from the sun and holy water away that easily.”
“How do you know?” Adam asked seriously. “I’m not the only one with this mutation.”
“Have you ever attempted to transfer it?”
“No.”
“And you never attempted to give me your gift until after Joanna. It would soothe your conscience, wash away your guilt over drinking every drop of her blood.” Sullivan blinked, still maintaining mental contact with Adam. “I don’t want you absolved of your guilt, Adam. I want you to have it until the day you cease to exist. Now get the hell out of my mind.”
“That was rude.” Uriel looked from Sullivan to Adam, pursing his lips into a pout. “Sometimes the two of you behave as though you think I’m stupid, with not a brain in my head. I am a vampire, gentlemen, remember that.”
“I remember and you’re a damn annoying one.” Adam reached out with the power of his mind and applied pressure to Uriel’s carotid artery, increasing it when the vampire turned pleading eyes on him. “You’re a vampire. Stop the groveling and behave like one.” Adam applied even more pressure as he glared at Uriel, then turned to Sullivan, daring him to try to stop him from choking Uriel.
“Kill him if that’s what you want, but it won’t assuage your guilt, will it, Adam? Or should I call you, Father?”
“Stop calling me that!” Adam banged his hand on the table, releasing Uriel from his mental hold. “What the hell do the two of you want? Why are you here bothering me?”
“Dr. Meah needs permission from you to begin research on a new blood. He’s calling it the AB-1.”
Studying Sullivan, Adam said, “You could have authorized that, Sullivan. You have that power.”
“It’s a lot more money than we’ve ever spent on one experiment. I wanted to check with you.”
“It’s only money, Sullivan.” Adam shook his head and swallowed. Though neither of them would admit it, he and Sullivan were both living in their own private hells. “You have my permission to write the checks, spend what’s needed. There will always be more.”
For a long moment, he stared at Sullivan before dragging his gaze to where Uriel sat. “Uriel, stay with me and let’s party. There are a few mortal women who I want to introduce you to.”
Instantaneous distaste crossed Sullivan’s face at Adam’s comments. Seeing it, relief flooded Adam’s body. This was much better. Sullivan’s anger, his disgust, not his pity or the memories of a lost friendship. Walking away, Adam paused and looked over his shoulder at Uriel, the weasel. “Are you coming?” he asked.
His stomach churned with disgust at the look of pleasure that was on the vampire’s face. Am I now reduced to hanging out with beings such as Uriel? He sighed as the vampire came toward him. Tonight he would stomach the vampire.
Tomorrow he would have Eve.

***

Sullivan turned just as Uriel materialized in his den. It annoyed Sullivan that he’d come without asking permission. Glaring at Uriel, he scanned the vampire’s mind. One could never be too careful. He would hate to think that Uriel had changed allegiance and now after a night of fun was working for the invincible Adam. When he saw no change he nodded at Uriel to sit.
“So how was it? Are you now a fan of Adam?”
“Actually we had fun,” Uriel said. “As for being his fan, I’ve always admired him. Adam has a way about him, especially with women, mortal and vampire alike.”
“Adam won’t touch a vampire.”
“Maybe not to make love to them, but he does touch them and they touch him.”
Disgust filled Sullivan for Adam and Uriel’s actions. Both vampires had always appeared to have insatiable sexual appetites, unlike Sullivan who preferred a mate. It had been a long time since he’d had one.
Glancing around the den to bring his own thoughts under control, he glared when his gaze landed on Uriel and he saw the intensity with which the other vampire was studying him.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“What’s going on with you two? What was Adam offering you?” Uriel asked.
“Why didn’t you ask Adam?”
As he’d known, Uriel didn’t have an answer. He was much too cowardly to ever question Adam in this manner. It annoyed him that Uriel didn’t have that same fear of him. He had to be careful, set boundaries, let the vampire know who was in charge.
“You think you have the right to ask me this?” Sullivan said.
“I didn’t mean any disrespect. But it’s just…well…I thought things were different between us. I thought we were friends. Partners,” Uriel offered.
Sullivan stared for a long moment, not sure how to answer Uriel’s question, not sure if he would.

In the Beginning

I am so excited, I'm almost jumping up and down. Adam Omega is finally making his debut. The book is going to be coming out on time and Adam is as thrilled about that as I am.

Listen, I know not all of you like novels with vampires and that's okay. But I still know that you're going to be happy for me.

For those of you who are readers please don't go, But Vampires can't do that. Adam can. I know. Besides, this is fiction. And it's classified as speculative fiction. I like that. It means I can write what I want. No rules. No Restrictions. YEAH!!

Dyanne/ F. D. Davis

P.S. you all noticed that I'm using a pseudonym so my romance readers won't pick up something they don't like thinking it's something else.

What a pretty baby

I have to share a picture of one of the cutest babies around. If you have one just as cute send me the picture. The one picture is of my neice and myself three years ago before she had the baby. She's a cutie also.

Dyanne

Excerpt for my three Amazon Shorts

A Bad Boy’s Heart

Damien’s pants pockets begin to vibrate, and again he thought, Mia, hoping before he allowed the hope to die that it would be her. But it wouldn’t be. He knew it. His heart still felt same coldness it had the night she’d accused him of trying to steal from her brother.
He may have been a dog but he’d never stolen from anyone. The very idea that the woman he loved could think he would steal from her brother and break her heart… that he couldn’t forgive. Who the hell was he kidding? All Mia had to do was come to him and he’d forgive her. He sighed and reached into this pocket for the phone. No one ever called him at the zoo.
“Damien Terrell?”
“Yeah,” Damien answered. “Who’s this?”
“Latayara, Jones from Mr. Sal’s. We met when you came in to audition for singer. Are you still interested?”
This couldn’t be happening. Damien gripped the slender phone in his hand. Interested? Hell yes, he was interested.
“Are you saying I got the job?”
“Sure, it’s yours if you want it. Why do you think I called?”
“Thanks.”
“You’ve got a good voice, I’m sure the women at the club will be pleased. Before long you’ll have your pick of women in the city of Chicago.” Latayara, laughed. “You’ll see.”
When the last of the details were discussed, Damien flipped the phone close and stared at it. Latayara was wrong. He wouldn’t be able to have his pick of women. There was only one woman he wanted and that was Mia.
Mia, he thought and glanced at the phone again. He wanted to call and tell her his dream had finally come true. She’d been so sure, so confident in his abilities. She’d straight out told him that if he didn’t go after his God given talents she would lose respect for him.
It hadn’t taken more than that. Losing Mia’s respect wasn’t even an option, despite his father telling him he was whipped. He’d given him that. He’d played that role for Mia, but not anymore.
When his phone rang again Damien was stunned. Two calls in one day. He looked at the number, and not one of the calls was from Mia. “Yeah, Pop,” he answered.
“What’s with the attitude?” Charles Terrell snorted. “You still jonesing bout that smart alecky girl you been running after, the one that’s got your nose open like a Mack truck?”
“Lay off, Pop.”
“I’m not gone lay off till you stop acting like a damn punk and start acting like a man. You make me ashamed of being your damn father, boy. Grow the hell up.”
Damien counted to ten determined not to get into a fight with his father over Mia. His father had never met her and yet he hated her. Part of that was Damien’s fault. He should never have told his parents that Mia thought she was better than he. That was the catalyst that kicked it all off.





http://www.amazon.com/Dreams-Are-Only-for-Entertainment/dp/B000JJ4I8M/sr=1-5/qid=1170857655/ref=sr_1_5/002-4255742-5498400?ie=UTF8&s=books




1
Dreams Are for
Entertainment
by DYANNE DAVIS
One a.m. and nearly a hundred people still partied in the streets on the corner of
Madison and California, what was known in the neighborhood as Catfish Corner. In the heart of
what many termed the ghetto. Yet, Heaven could not have felt more at ease or more a part of her
people.
For seven years, Alderman Wallace Davis had owned and operated the catfish restaurant
and provided a place for folks to congregate, eat, drink, dance and feel safe, much like a block
party. The Chicago Police were forever trying to find a reason to close the alderman down, but
nothing had ever happened: not one fight had jumped off. All he had to do was remind the
people that the law was looking for a reason to close him down and they banded together tighter
than Dick’s headband.
An affordable night out for the working class and those barely working and just
struggling to survive had been the goal. The musicians played for free, depending on the collections taken up on their behalf.

Heaven sighed and looked at Mike the good-looking brother who had been
glued to her side all night, thinking when the night ended he was going to get some. Psyche. No
way. She smiled, batting her eyes at the brother. She did love the brothers and she did used to
love to flirt. But that was back in the day when Brandon had been her safety net, and the men had
known she was with Brandon and that nothing was going to happen but a few dances and a look
or two. Now it was getting downright dangerous to give that certain look to a man. He would be
ready to strip down and claim something she’d never offered.

Laugher so rich and full bubbled from his brown berry lips that Heaven stood still for a
moment and just watched him. He’d been pushing up on her all evening and he was fine. Too
fine, in fact and his line, though tired, had amused her; made her remember she was a woman
and not a troll. Heaven was grateful to Mike for showing her that there were some good looking
brothers that still preferred the color brown and all its varieties to vanilla latté.
Heaven laughed pushing his hand away from her butt.
“Come on, baby, you feel so good, just give a brother a little something something.”
Once again Heaven pushed his hands away. “Don’t make me go ghetto on you. I don’t
play that touching when I haven’t given you permission.”
“Then give me permission, baby.”


Back to Amazon.com
1 http://www.amazon.com/Only-You/dp/B000JJ4I8C/sr=1-9/qid=1170857722/ref=sr_1_9/002-4255742-5498400?ie=UTF8&s=books

Only You
by DYANNE DAVIS
Jake’s hand moved up Torrie’s thigh as he heard her moan his name. He placed butterfly
kisses on the outside of her thigh not daring to move so much as an inch inward. He shivered as
the lust claimed him, but was determined to take this slow. He’d waited a lifetime to make love
to Torrie, he wouldn’t rush it now.
“Jake…now.”
“Not now, baby, we’ve got forever. We have the rest of our lives.”
“But I want you, now please, Jake.”
He shuddered hard. Damn he wanted her, too. But he wanted her to forever remember
their first time together, and if he took her now when he was so hot there would be nothing to
remember. It would all be over the moment he felt her heat surround him.
“Take it down a notch, Torrie. I swear baby, you won’t be disappointed.” Jake moved
upward; he was too close to Torrie’s sweetness, too close to where he wanted to be, too close to
not give in and take a taste. White-hot desire shot through him, and he shuddered hard,
determined to hold on. He kissed her hip then her belly and began working his way back up her
body until he was looking down at her chocolate tipped mounds. She tasted delicious, and she
smelled so good. He loved touching her beautiful chocolate skin. He’d never known anyone with
skin a soft as Torrie’s. His breathing was coming faster, he was darn near panting. He had to
slow it down or it would be over even before he had a chance to feel her heat. Talk, he thought,
talk to her while you make love to her.

Hey there everyone,

Guess what, My book, Misty Blue won an Emma at Romance Slam jam for best cover. It's an award I will gladly share with the graphic artist, Chris Esler. Congrats to the both of us Chris. You for designing the cover and me for writing the book. We make a good team. Also I know that Niani Colom had the cover concept so congrats to her as well.

Misty Blue was also a finalist for best sequel and me for author of the year. In these two instances I will say it was a pleasure having been nominated. Yeah Right!! LOL. But it really is when all is said and done and I can use that on my ever increasing bio. Take care all I will post pictures next week

In case you're wondering the picture is on my son from years before when he went skydiving. He's in the orange suit. I used it because winning an award makes you feel like you're flying

Amazon Shorts

Guess what? I just figured out how to post the links to my shorts on Amaazon. I know that makes me more than pitiful but come on I've had a lot on my plate lately. anyway if you get a chance check them out. They're only .49. http://www.amazon.com/Dreams-Are-Only-for-Entertainment/dp/B000JJ4I8M/sr=1-5/qid=1170857655/ref=sr_1_5/002-4255742-5498400?ie=UTF8&s=books



http://www.amazon.com/Only-You/dp/B000JJ4I8C/sr=1-9/qid=1170857722/ref=sr_1_9/002-4255742-5498400?ie=UTF8&s=books

Romance readers

I just have to share this picture with anyone who might drop by. Patsy Nelson is the Human who shares Alexis life. Not owner people, Alexis doesn't have an owner. LOL. Also congratulations are in order. Alexis just recently delivered though I don't know how many or the sex of the babies.

Many Shades of Gray (excerpt)

Chapter one

Okay, I’m not a heroine, I’m a flesh and blood woman and I’ve made a lot of dumb ass mistakes in my life. So if you’re looking for someone to emulate I would suggest that you close this book and find someone else. I am not the one you’re looking for.
This is not a pretty little romance where all of the characters will do what you want and you will be left with a feel good feeling. I have no idea how this will play out.
It’s my life we’re talking about and it’s real. Most days it’s so damn real that I want to rewrite it. It’s ugly and it’s brutal but it’s me. If you can handle real life then you might just be able to handle what I’m going to write.
If you’re still reading, good. You’re the one I’m looking for. What I will tell you will be an honest story of my life and I won’t pull any punches. I’m not asking you to root for me and I’m definitely not asking for sympathy. If I were the one reading this story and learning of my bitchiness for the first time I would definitely want to slap the hell out of me and fling the book across the room.
But even bitches have a reason for being that way. Trust me. Just don’t judge until you have all of the facts.
If you’re still with me, I suggest we get started.
***
Simon laid the page back on Janice’s desk and walked up the stairs to see if she was ready. He wondered what the hell her book was going to be about. He knew one thing for certain: She was definitely starting it out differently from any of the others. Another thing he knew: She had left the first page there for him to see. If she had not wanted him to read it she would have closed the door to her study, a signal that she wanted her office to remain private, or she would not have not printed it. But now he’d read it and she had him curious, as always.

***
Janice gazed in the mirror, surveying her appearance. Everything had to be perfect. She was about to be in the public eye. Again. And no matter how often she was, she always felt butterflies in the pit of her stomach.
As a writer she was used to the attention paid to her but this time would be different. This would be the first time that her relationship with Simon Kohl would be the main focus. It would also open the flood gates to questions regarding her meteoric rise to fame in the last two years. Had she slept her way there? And the answer to that was yes. Well, in a way.
For the past three years she’d been sleeping with the most powerful man in publishing. While he was mostly unknown to writers, agents and editors, the powers that be, the money moguls, knew exactly who Simon Kohl was. He owned more than half the publishing houses in the world and kept his anonymity by allowing those companies to operate as though he didn’t exist.
He owned everything from the tree farms where the trees were harvested especially to make the paper for his printing presses to a plastic factory that distributed the tiny holders that the reporters who tried unsuccessfully to catch a glimpse of him used to carry their name badges.
And she was about to be brought full force into his world. There would no longer be the whispered rumors or innuendos. Today they would announce their engagement. After today there wouldn’t be one single person left who would believe that she had a smidgen of talent. Though she’d made a name for herself long before Simon, she couldn’t deny that it was Simon that had boosted her career. Not for one second could she allow herself to forget that he held the authority to easily take away what he’d given her.
A shiver ran down her back and she frowned slightly, looking at her image in the mirror. Her long hair, soft and curling, framed her honey brown face to perfection. Her deep set brown eyes tilted up a little, giving her a bit of an exotic look. And her five-foot-nine frame gave her a regal bearing. Janice tilted her head to the side, allowing what she knew to be true to seep into her pores and become a part of her armor.
She was a beautiful woman; there was no doubt about it. But she’d given up a lot to get to this point in her life. Her very large and vocal family including siblings, uncle, aunts and cousins thought she’d given up her heritage. As they often said, she no longer acted black, whatever the hell that meant.
There had been a time in her life when she’d worn her feelings on her sleeve and accusations such as that had cut deeply. A shiver passed through her as she thought about Tommie Strong. Look what that relationship had gotten her.
“Hey, aren’t you ready yet?”
Janice’s eyes slid back to the mirror to peer over her shoulder at Simon, who’d just come to stand behind her. Simon was the final proof to the black world that Janice Lace was a sell-out. He was white.
Despite what her family thought she’d not set out deliberately to become engaged to a man outside her race. That had just happened. And why shouldn’t it? Simon was an extremely handsome man who’d chased her until she’d allowed him to catch her. He was a well built man in his late thirties, tall enough that she didn’t have to resort to wearing flats. Simon swore he was six-three, but she thought he was just a little under. He had the thickest, softest hair she’d ever felt on a man. It always made her think of dark chocolate. His smile never failed to cause a slight hitch in her chest, though she kept that from him. He had deep dimples in each cheek and when his lips were pulled back into a smile, she could just imagine falling into those dimples. As attractive as she found him, it was his eyes that enthralled her.
He had startling gray eyes that could shoot fear into the deepest marrow of her being. Filled with lust, they almost made her believe that the two of them were right for each other. Almost. But it really didn’t matter. In spite of her doubts she would stand beside him at the podium when he announced to the world that they would be getting married. And she would smile as though she’d won the top prize. It was, after all, what she’d wanted, what she’d worked her tail off to achieve.
“I’m ready,” she answered finally.
“What took you so long in here?”
She turned to face him. “I wanted to look perfect for you.”
“You’re always perfect. Are you nervous?” He narrowed his eyes and surveyed her coolly. “Are you having second thoughts?”
“No second thoughts.” She lowered her gaze. “What would make you think that?”
“The way you looked down just then and the fact that you didn’t want to marry me before. It’s almost as though you’re somehow ashamed of me.” He grinned. “That’s stupid, though, isn’t it?”
“Why would I be ashamed of you? Look at you. You’re a handsome man, smart and funny.”
“And don’t forget rich,” he teased. “That’s the real reason that you’re marrying me.”
His words made her wince and she turned away, wanting to withhold the truth from him, even if she couldn’t from herself. She had not told him how she felt. What good would it do to tell him that she loved him? She’d given her heart to one man and told him that she loved her. He’d left her knowing how she felt. Janice glanced at Simon. She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Saying the words would only give him power over her, so she didn’t say them. She believed that was part of the reason he stayed interested. She allowed him and the world to believe it was his money she was after. After all, she’d not bothered to talk to him until she’d known exactly who he was.
“Come on, Janice, we both know you’re with me for what I can do for you. You’re not in love with me.”
“Are you in love with me?”
“I want to marry you.”
“That wasn’t the question. Are you in love with me?”
“I love having pretty things and I like the finality of marriage, knowing that I’ve closed the deal, so to speak. I don’t like what shacking up represents—instability, no commitments. It’s just a nice way of having someone available for a ready screw.”
He was being deliberately crude. She knew it was because she hadn’t admitted to being in love with him. Whenever the subject of love came up, Simon always behaved this way. If Janice didn’t know better, she would think he did love her. But she did know better. He didn’t love her; he wanted to possess her.
For the most part he did. He controlled her career completely. But apparently that wasn’t enough. He’d almost demanded that she say yes to his endless proposals. Sometimes she wondered why it mattered so much to him.
She watched in the mirror as he toyed with the Rolex around his wrist. His jaw was set firmly and his brows furrowed. There was something up with him. What? she wondered.
“I read the beginning of your new book.”
She wanted to turn around, to face him, read his thoughts. But she’d play it cool, behave as though what he thought didn’t matter. “So what did you think?” she asked finally as she fluffed her hair around her face.
“I noticed you wrote it in first person. Is it going to be autobiographical?”
“I guess it could be.” She smiled. “I’m not sure. I just wrote what came out. What do you think of the beginning?”
“I don’t like giving my opinion on a book until I’ve read the entire thing.”
“Simon.”
“Okay, it’s different.”
“That was my intention. I’m sick to death of writing stories with an end the reader can predict from the first paragraph. I want to write about characters that are, for lack of a better word, evil and mean. I want them to do stupid things. I want them to be human. I don’t want a hero and I don’t want a heroine.” She tilted her head just a tiny bit and smiled into the mirror. “I want the protagonist to be more like me.”
“Am I going to be in it?”
“I didn’t say it was going to be a true story. It’s a work of fiction.”
“In that case I’ll hold off on my critique. I have a surprise for you.” He came closer, turned her around and kissed her.
A flutter ripped her sense of calm and she hesitated before asking, “Where is it?”
“Surprises are not to be just lightly given. There has to be something leading up to it. You’ll get it, don’t worry.”
His gray eyes suddenly looked cold and he moved away from her, giving her the sense that her surprise wasn’t going to be pleasant.
“What’s up with you?” she asked, feigning a curiosity she didn’t truly feel. She’d made her deal with the devil, so to speak, and there was no going back. She’d come into this relationship with her eyes wide open. They each served a purpose for the other.
For Simon, she was exotic arm candy, entrée into the black world, his way of proving that he was a man of the people. She almost laughed at the thought. He truly thought he was, but he would never be able to buy his way into being black, same as she could never buy her way into being white. They served as passports for each other, allowing each to travel the other’s world. At any time they could each cross back over into the world they’d come from.
But for Janice there was no going back. She was in Simon’s world for a reason, a reason known only to her. And she’d kept it deeply buried in her heart.
“Is there a chance that you could at least pretend to be happy when we make the announcement?” Simon asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Sure, I can pretend if you can.” She squared off with him. “I don’t get it. You’re behaving as though you’re angry with me and I have done nothing to provoke your anger, so either tell me what’s going on or knock it off. I swear, you’re worse than a woman having PMS.”
“Why do you risk what we have?” Simon said as he sidled up next to her, fingered the double strand of expensive pearls around her throat and frowned. “Sometimes I think you forget who I am and what I can do.”
“How can I? You remind me constantly.”
“Is that the reason you don’t love me?” he asked pointedly.
“What is all this talk of love? What’s with you?”
“I’m thinking I’m too old for this charade. I want to be happy. I want a family, I want love.”
“You have to love in order to be loved.” Janice started to walk away but felt strong hands reach out, grabbing her and holding her in place.
“Let me go,” she ordered.
“Or what?”
“Or you’re going to wish that you had.”
“As you wish,” Simon replied, releasing her, smiling at her and shaking his head in wonder. He wished he knew what the hell it was about her cold disdain that had made him fall in love with her, kept him trying to please her, trying to make her love him.
Well, actually, he knew in his heart that she loved him even if she refused to say it. And despite her public persona she proved it in the privacy of their home. No woman touched a man the way she touched him other than in love. He thought about the times in the still of the night when he held her in his arms, caressing her, and she softly shared her dreams, telling him without the actual words that she loved him. When they made love she always kept her eyes open, and for sure he saw her love reflected there.
Now Simon was after two things: He was going to make her tell him that she loved him and he was going to discover why she had thus far been unable to do so. In the next couple of hours the game would begin.
Though in the beginning he hadn’t been altogether sure that it was love he felt for Janice, it had angered him that she’d didn’t admit to feeling love for him. Maybe that was the reason he’d chased her until she ended up in his bed. At first he’d wondered what would happen if they both cared. Now he wondered what would happen when they both admitted to caring.
One thing for sure, Simon didn’t want Janice for an enemy and she sure as hell didn’t want him for one. They would settle their differences in the marriage bed. But he wasn’t marrying her until they resolved her past. He believed he’d discovered the reason why she went cold when he talked of love, why she substituted fighting for admitting her feelings for him. Well they’d fought for over three years. It was time to end the war.
He had a test for his soon to be fiancée. He demanded one thing and one thing only from her and that was fidelity. Her verbal abuse and disdain he might tolerate as long as it stayed behind closed doors, and so far Janice had played her part well in public, pretending that she adored him when they both knew that wasn’t the case. Loved, maybe. That he stood a shot at. Adored? No way in hell would Janice Lace ever adore any man.
At least he was hoping that part was true. He didn’t want her giving to any man something that she couldn’t or wouldn’t give to him. In the past he had tolerated many things from her. But now it would be different. He was marrying her.
“This is supposed to be a happy occasion.” He smiled inwardly as she eyed him with disdain. “You’re treating me as though I’m the enemy. Anyone watching this display of temper might think it was only my money that you’re interested in.” He braced himself for her expected answer.
“I have my own money,” she sneered.
“Money that you wouldn’t have if it weren’t for me.”
She glared at him and he grinned. He loved getting a real response from Janice, even if it were only one of anger. God she was beautiful when she was angry. Simon could feel himself growing hard with wanting her. He watched as her brown eyes flashed red fire. Then she suddenly looked toward his crotch and smiled.
“You always manage to get me, don’t you?” To Simon’s surprise she walked back to him, plastered her body to his, and slid her hand down the length of him, making him groan with need. His chest tightened and his arms went automatically around her, pulling her close. She didn’t move away. Instead, she kissed him, sliding her tongue between his lips. He felt her tremble, felt the fire in her and for a moment he thought they would make love. Then she pulled away, eyed him up and down, and grinned.
“Admit it, Simon, you like our relationship just fine the way that it is.”
She tossed that wild mane of hair and walked out of her bathroom, leaving him with a hard-on. And the moment faded. She’d been merely teasing him, showing him that regardless of his money, she was in control.
Simon licked his lips. He could buy women and all the sex that he wanted. He could even buy his way into a culture that wasn’t his, but that he loved. And he could do that without Janice on his arm. But he didn’t want to. He wanted her and God help him if it wasn’t love. Still he wanted her and he wanted a stable family with her. He just had to make sure that her feelings for the man in her past were dead.
He took a deep breath and walked out of the bathroom. Janice wasn’t a stupid woman; she wouldn’t risk everything.
A little voice whispered into his brain that he should leave well enough alone but he’d never done things the easy way and he wasn’t about to start now. No. One thing Simon wasn’t, was a coward. He allowed the sigh to escape and glanced down at his now semi-soft erection. That woman could make him hard as steel with but a touch and she could also deflate him quicker than a child could release air from a balloon.
What a life we’ll have, he thought as he walked out of the bathroom and into his future. He smiled at Janice and she smiled back and again he wondered. Maybe if he said it first. He took her arm. Maybe after they were safely married he’d tell her he loved her. Maybe.

catching up

Good morning,

I know it’s been a few days and believe me there is a very good reason that you haven’t heard from me. The first has to do with my own impatience. Yes, I'm one of the few people still using dial up and sometimes to make the connections take so long that I stop it in annoyance.

There’s a very good reason for that also. I’m doing galleys or proofing the mss before it’s printed and comes out. This is the last chance I will get to make sure things are correct.

Now just might be a good time to warn you that this will be a very long post. Okay back to the original subject. I just figured out myself why books have so many mistakes, too many cooks stirring the pot.

I’m going to take you quickly from the conception to the delivery. First the book goes from the author to the content editor. This will be where the majority of work will be done. The content editor will make suggestions on what isn’t flowing and things that have been left out. They will ask the hard questions the ones the readers will ask about why is he doing that, things like that. The manuscript then goes back to the author. This will be where the author will look over the comments and suggestion of the content editor, agree or disagree and will add scenes, or cut some and corrections made. It then goes back to the editor and a basic clean up take place word choice, punctuations, and things like that. It goes again to the author and hopefully very few new scenes are added because those will also have to be corrected.

Here things may vary and I’m not altogether sure of what I’m about to tell you now because as many times as I’ve been told I’m still not clear of the job description of these other editors. The book then goes to a line editor who I assume check each line for mistakes. Then it goes to a copy editor. Don’t ask. Then it goes to the typesetter who put the manuscript in book form. Next we have the proofer whose job it is to primarily look for mistakes, missing words, places where the typesetter has fused two different paragraphs, that sort of thing. Then it goes back to the author one last time.

Here is were the problem comes in. At least for me this is where the problem came in. Somewhere along the line things were taken out or added given what I’d written an entirely different meaning. A misplaced comma can do a world of damage but changing my words…..lets say ahhhh—Especially when the meaning is changed.

So what does that mean? I have to go over my book with a fine tooth comb checking with my original sometimes even finding that there was a mistake in there on my part. I’m not perfect. This part is a lot of work. I tell you it is a lot of work. And I’m not done.

This is the kicker. This is the last time I will see this book before it’s in print. When I’m done checking it it has to go back to the typesetter and I pray that everything is not only put in as I’ve asked but I have to pray that the changes won’t do crazy things to the typesetting.
Let’s throw in the fact that we’re doing this electronically and something just might get missed. I’m old school and don’t believe you can catch as many things sitting in front of the computer as you can catch with a hard copy in your hand. Also consider this fact. As the author I might also see it as I wrote it in my mind and not what’s on the paper, therefore missing something because since I believe it should be there I see it there when it’s not.

I know self-published or epubbed authors have been taking hits because of the many errors in their work. Know this, no author regardless of how they’re published wants to put out a bad product. I think they just don’t have enough eyes helping with the checking. Where I on the other hand think I have too many. LOL. Either way I hope you have a better idea of how the publishing industry works and how hard we all try to make sure your books are as error free as possible.

To that end it leaves me with very little time to wait to be connected on AOL and to post. Plus add this to the mix. Sometimes I write something long like this and Amazon makes it disappear. Deatri told me that she now writes in word and paste it on and that’s what I’m doing this morning. Besides this has spell check and Amazon doesn’t or if it has I haven’t seen it.

Like I said this is a very long post and I know it. LOL. I am going to try and come back and say Happy New Year but just in case I don’t make it, Happy New year. I had wanted to tell you about my Christmas. Oh well


Happy Holiday from my family to yours

Bill, Billy and Dyanne Davis

P.S. If this had gone through the editorial process you would have found some punctuation in there instead of my long run-on sentences. LOL

Anderson Book Store

I was and still am so excited to see my book at Anderson's bookstore. Bill took this picture for me. And check out the name of the authors on the next shelf and the ones next to Misty Blue. If you can make out the writing on the self where the book is that is also cool. Happy Thanksgiving

Good News

Great New!!! My short stories are now available for purchase at Amazon.com for .49 The titles are ONly you a prequel to my book that's coming out in FEb. 07 Forever and A Day, and Dreams are for entertainment, which is the prequel for Let's get it on. They both give you a peek into the characters.

This and That

I am going to attempt to attach a picture of the authros that were in attendance at Southwest women working together. From the back Michelle Larks, Carla Curtis, Earl Seawell, Angie Daniels, Lisa G. Riley. Front Barbara Keaton, Deatri King-Bey and Dyanne DAVIS

Abuse and Worthy Causes

Today I will be joining several of my friends to raise money for an organization called, Southwest Women Working Together. Barbara Keaton, of Cupid and Nights over Egypt coming out in Dec from Genesis Press is on the board. She asked me to....I'll have to take that back. She told me that I was going to be there as well as Lisa G, Riley of At last and her newest, part of an erotica anthology, Wicked Delights, Deatri King-Bey of Caught Up and, her newest, Beauty and the Beast coming out from Parker in Dec, that we were all to come to this event and being the good little friends that we are we said sure.

I almost forgot. She strong armed Nikki Woods of Easier Said than done into being the M.C. Then she got Angie Daniels and Earl Seawell to be our guest. She managed to get great prizes one including a dinner with Earl for whoever brings in the most guests.

Okay, I know you're wondering where the heck I'm going with all of the above but you know how friends are mention one's name and not the other and well....things can get pretty ugly. LOL. OOPS. Sorry. Kelle Z. Riley author of Dangerous Affairs is also a participant.

Anyway back to what the reason was for me writing this. Barb gave all of us jobs to do and kept adding to them I might add. The latest thing was to go to the dollar store and buy ten red bags. She had earlier asked us to post all of the information on all of our sites which I will admit here in public that I didn't do. I try to walk the line between spamming people and telling them things that they might not want to hear so I only posted it one place.

Well yesterday I was in the dollar store and besides the red bags I found tons of things that I will use later when I'm making up gift bags for my readers. So the cashier finally asks me when she's ringing up the bag what they were for so I told her about the event today.

She proceeded to tell me with a full line of customers behind me that she was a survivor of spousal abuse, that her throat had been slashed, both legs broken, ear drum shattered and numerous other things. Then she told me that her fourteen year old daughter was being abused by her fifteen year old boyfriend and that her daughter ended up in the hospital because she had begun cutting into her flesh. The boy was telling this child where she could go, whom she could see, and what time she had to be home. I was in stunned disbelief even as I stood there looking on the woman's battle scars.

It was then that I knew that spamming or not this subject is important enough that I said it. If anyone out there needs helps getting away from an abusive partner and that include men who are abused by women please contact me if you can't find any of the many places that offer help on your own. For the people living in the Chicago area I will post the information on my website.

If you're an abuser please get help, if you're a victim of abuse, you're not alone there are people willing to show you a safe way out of your situation. Please call someone. No one knows you have a need unless you tell them.

Dyanne

Babies

Yesterday my niece needed me to baby-sit her three month old baby. And she wanted me to come to her home to do it. She wasn't going to get home until about 10:30 pm. So, from noon until then.
You already know that I like being at home in my own house. And you know that I don't like to change my daily routine. You're also aware by now that I can't stay awake past 8 P.M.
My niece decided to bring the baby to me since it would be longer than the two hours she had orginially asked me to keep him. Her reason: I would still have access to my computer and be able to write. Yeah right!!
I have to admit he is the cutest little baby I've seen in a long time. Bill and I always pop in to see him for five minutes when we're passing right by their home. My niece lives in the next suburb from me, not even five minutes away. I'll saying that to say this, I'm not against babies just having them change my entire day.
Guess what? He got to me. He got to Bill and when Billy came home from work took one look at him and this grin appeared on his face, so wide that you would have thought he'd won a major prize, I looked at Bill and said, "Oh oh he's sucked the entire family in.
Jermaine(JO JO) gurgled, cooed, laughed and smiled his way into our hearts like never before. It wasn't the same as the little drive bys we'd been doing. We didn't leave his side even when he took little catnaps in my bed. Bill and I were in the room with him, touching him, kissing him, talking about how cute he is.
You know you can almost forget how wonderful it feels to have a new sweet smelling baby lying on your shoulder, your chest just holding them even while they sleep and not worrying about spoiling him because Hey, lets face it, he had to go home with his mother. LOL.
I don't remmber if I blogged about this, that when he was born you couldn't touch him without using this hand sanitizer and you definitely couldn't kiss him. Tanya actually had the nerve to bring the sanitizer to me yesterday. I wanted to laugh at the child. We kissed that little baby so much you wouldn't believe it and I wasn't even thinking about writing. Bill even said to the baby, "Why haven't we kept you before." Whenever he was going to leave from where the baby was he'd come right to his face and say, JO JO, uncle Bill is going to leave for a few minutes I have to....fill in the blanks. I thought it was so cute. I wasn't doing that though.
But I did let him cry for a couple of minutes while I just held him and listened to him. I tried to tell myself it was because I'm a nurse and I've never heard him cry. When I tell you that I was holding him smiling while he cried you could say I'm mean or insane but I'm going to tell you the reason since I figured it out. I couldn't comfort him if he didn't cry. There would be no need to say, whatcha matter with the baby. LOL.
When Tanya picked Jo Jo up she said to us when she was leaving, "Okay show the baby some love." I said, "Tanya, you're holding him for us to kiss him?" She answered, "Yes, you've been doing it all day anyway." LOL.
Sometimes interrupted plans bring many blessings. Did I stay awake? Just barely. Will I keep him again. You bet, in a heart beat.
Dyanne--still smiling.

Survivor Series

This morning I went to the Wild Women blog where a number of Genesis press authors have created a writer's blog. I decided the message I wrote there is the same message I want to put on my personal blog this morning. If you stop by please give me your opinion on this subject. Thanks-----Dyanne
Wild Women
Reading, Writing, and Romance
Saturday, August 26, 2006

Survivor Series
I have been reading a lot of posts about the new survivor series. First I was never a fan of the show. I have never liked having people pitted against each other and stabbing each other in the back to win something. The idea then of someone being voted off of something... Well... Lets just say it doesn't appeal to me. Hang-ups from childhood and being one of the last picked for teams...I don't know. I just know that I don't like it.Now it seems as if I took a nap and the world has started a backwards movement. In case you haven't heard the new show will feature groups based on racial lines. Their reasoning, they received complaints about not having enough of a cultural difference.I have no idea what they plan to achieve with this divisive tactic other than create discord. But my real objections concern the participants. Doesn't any of them know what this is going to do? Do they care? Is the thought of being on television and the chance to possibly win a million dollars worth so much that nothing else matters?The thought that are in my mind about the outcome of a show like this is so horrendous that I can only see polarization. Have we as a people sunk so low that it only matters what we do in our lives if it will advance us or get us some sort of publicity.? Do we not and I mean every single human being, do we not have a responsibility to this planet to try and at least keep it here for our children? MY God!!! What are they thinking? We're worried about a terrorist missile, I hate to see the fallout from this show. If I were a terrorist group I would just wait around while we destroy ourselves.Dyanne
posted by Dyanne at 6:47 AM

Changing Times

Have you ever had the image you hold in your head of yourself smashed into tiny little pieces? Okay, I'm being overly dramatic.But seriously some things make you think. Admittedly I'm frugal. I just don't believe in spending for the sake of spending and I do like to get what I paid for or more than what I paid for.

In other words I love bargains. You need this info for the set-up. LOL. On Wednesday Bill and I (you all know that's my hubby right?) went to long Jonh Silver's. We placed our order and went to the windon. Bill is in the process of handing over the money and the cashier says, "oh wait a minute I almost forgot. I don't mean to offend but it's senior citizen day and you get 20% off.

Neither my husband nor myself have reached that age and believe it or not I have a long time to go. But saving 20% is saving 20%. LOL. I laughed all the way home. When we got there I looked at Bill and said, "Hmm, she must think you're the senior because I know she couldn't be talking about me."

The funny thing a week ago I was talking to Lisa G. Riley and telling her how i was now using my age to get the things I wanted. You know, the respect your elders thing. Well when I went for jury duty I kept getting taller people to change the channel on the telvevision for me. I told Lisa when you get a certain age you can do certain things, people either think you're crazy or they have respect for their elders. Either way....you get what you want. LOL. And now it appears you get things you didn't ask for. Listen if I wasn't so darn frugal I might think about a face lift but like I said I don't spend for the sake of spending. Nature will win in the end and I will be thousands of dollars poorer, so I guess I'll get ready to visit more places on Wednesday.

Have a great week-end everyone.

Dyanne

ADam's Ring

I really needed something to liven up this blog so I'm showing you a picture i found of my vampire's ring. this is so Adam.

Romance Writers of America

I just returned from RWA's nation conference that was held this year in Atlanta. As a chapter president this was thrilling for me on many levels. I learned ways to make my chapter grow and remain strong and of course I met up with old friends and made new ones. I even managed to squeeze in a visit with family and a little shopping. Also $64,000 was raised for literacy. The one thing that distressed me most was that African American readers rushed past the African American authors without so much as a nod.

Forever And A Day--Excerpt

Chapter One

Friday August 27th 7: PM.


The smells of jambalaya fought with the gumbo. “Mama, don’t put in any okra.” A useless request, there would be okra in the gumbo, but there would be so much more food to eat that it wouldn’t matter. The smile appeared on her face before she could stop it, and Torrie relaxed for just a moment to enjoy the different aromas. Taking a deep breath, she inhaled. The scent of catfish wafted throughout the house. The hush puppies were piled high on a platter, waiting for the hurricane party.
“What if this one’s for real?” Torrie turned toward her sister. “The weather reports say it’s going to be bad.” As expected, Kimmie, her sister, laughed at her.
“There’s no need to fear. How many times have we been through this, a million?”
“Not a million.” Torrie stopped and swayed, putting her hands on her hips. “Besides, this one feels different. I’m scared.”
“There is nothing any different about this storm than from any other. We’re going to have a party. There’s going to be some rain, maybe a little flooding, but nothing major. Come on, Torrie, you know how it is.”
Torrie turned and stared at the gathering crowd. She walked toward the kitchen. The smells pulled on her, and the laughter filled her heart, but something loomed in the far recesses of her mind. Doom. She shook it away, but it came back. Something was wrong. This was a party same as any other. The ninth ward had huddled and prayed through this many times. She wasn’t sure if it was the governor and the mayor or her constant dreams, or a combination, but she was truly worried.
A warm hush puppy was shoved into her mouth. Torrie bit down, savoring the taste. Her stomach growled, alerting her to the hunger she denied. “Everything looks good,” she whispered. “Look everybody,” she reached for a glass, then hit it several times with the back of the butter knife, stopping the swarm of voices and laughter. The sea of brown faces turned toward her.
“What’s up?” more than one voice inquired.
“We have time to leave New Orleans before the hurricane is scheduled to hit. Let’s do the party tonight, but tomorrow let’s just go somewhere else, maybe Lake Charles, maybe… maybe…I don’t know, but I’m going to call around and try to find someplace to go for a few days until the hurricane passes. I don’t feel safe? What if the levee breaks?”
Laughter rang out, a dozen voices drowning out her words.
“Please, the levees will never break,” said Auntie Mattie. “They will hold regardless. We are blessed by God, his favored people. God don’t have no doing with the poor, only the rich. He will not touch our homes don’t worry.”
“Have you spoken to God?” Torrie insisted stubbornly. “Did he tell you that he wouldn’t destroy our homes?” She turned to face her Auntie Mattie and waited patiently for the answer.
“The Bible said it wouldn’t be water but fire next time. The hurricane, honey, that’s water, and I’m not afraid. Hurricane Katrina is not gonna bother me none.”
“What if it does, Auntie?”
“Look, if you’re scared pray about it, and God will put your mind at ease. But we’re trying to have a party here, baby, you’re putting a real damper on it.”
Try as she might, the feeling wouldn’t leave, then the chills started, and she was taken back as she always was to when she was four and huddled in a corner at nursery school. Torrie could remember Jake’s face as plain as day. Only a few months older, he’d come to the corner where she was cowering and had removed her hands from her face. She’d stared into his golden brown eyes, and he’d smiled at her.
“Hi, my name’s Jake. I’ll sit with you,” he’d said. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’ll protect you.”
The two of them had sat hand in hand, looking at each other until the storm passed. When Torrie cringed at loud claps of thunder, Jake smiled and squeezed her hand. “I won’t let thunder hurt you, Torrie,” he’d boasted, puffing his chest out. And somehow, she’d believed him.
Torrie had gone though many storms with Jake. She’d even had her first kiss with him, during the middle of a thunderstorm. They’d been to a mall and had gotten caught in a thunder storm, her body had trembled at the sound, and Jake had put his arm around her, laughing at her, telling her as he’d done a hundred times in the past that he’d protect her. Only that time something was different, the way he’d held her was different. His voice had become husky and low, and she’d suddenly felt hot, unable to breathe. The storm was forgotten when she’d turned to stare at Jake. His eyes held a look she was unfamiliar with and had never seen, but she had some inner knowing of what was coming.
She tilted her head up at the same instant his lips came down. He kissed her tentatively at first, then bolder. Things she had no way of knowing their meaning surged through her. Heat shimmied down her spine, and she felt Jake’s body harden as he pulled her close.
That had also been Torrie’s first brush with classism. A man, Jake’s neighbor Torrie later learned, had snatched Jake away from her and asked what the hell they thought they were doing. He’d threatened to tell Jake’s parents that he was kissing on a Thibodeaux girl from the ninth ward out in public. Name and skin color meant so much in New Orleans. Not as much as it had in the fifties but the tentacles still remained.. It always amazed Torrie that strangers, like Jake’s neighbor, could look at her face and know that her name was Thibodeaux.
The abruptness of being pulled apart by a stranger surprised Torrie. Jake’s face had turned red. His eyes, which had had that funny look right before he’d kissed her, changed. He was angry. Torrie had cringed. Jake was in trouble for kissing her, and when he moved further away from her, Torrie had seen another look in Jake’s eyes. Shame.
She’d stood for a moment, looking as his eyes darted back and forth from her to the man who had broken them apart. Fury blazed from Jake’s eyes. Whether his emotions came about because of her or his neighbor, she wasn’t sure. With a sob in her throat, Torrie ran from the mall and hadn’t stopped running until she got home.
Her friendship with Jake changed that day. They no longer laughed as easily or shared their secrets, and eventually it almost stopped. Two years after their kiss, Jake left town, and Torrie only heard from him occasionally: on her birthday, Christmas, and when it stormed. Of course there had been the call to tell her he was in love and the one a year later to tell her he was getting married, and the call five years ago telling her he was divorced, that it hadn’t worked out.
Torrie glanced toward the phone, wondering if Jake was listening to the news, wondering if he’d call. She smiled; of course he’d call. He always did, and she’d assure him she was no longer a child, no longer afraid of storms. But they’d both know it was a lie, but a lie between old friends that could be accepted. After all, they lived in different worlds, and Jake could no longer protect her from the storms.

***

“Damn,” Jake swore as he looked at the weather report. He’d called Benjamin, a meteorologist for the Mississippi Times, and asked if he thought the possibility of a major hurricane was imminent. He wanted to affirm if all the reports he’d heard were true. After all, the Big Easy was always threatened with such news. The news from Benjamin was grim. Yes, yes and yes. This time the authorities had it right. The mayor was not just blowing smoke up anyone’s behind, and the governor had done the right thing in ordering the populace to evacuate. Jake immediately thought of Torrie and her dire predictions and the dreams she’d had since early childhood that New Orleans would be destroyed. He’d always told her she was too pessimistic, waiting for the shoe to drop, that nothing would happen. He glanced again at the television, remembering how many times he’d promised to protect her, to not allow any old hurricane to destroy their town.
“Damn,” he muttered as he paced his office. Why the hell did he care any more? In the twelve years since he’d left home, she’d never once initiated a conversation, had never sent him one letter, one card, not on his birthday, not at Christmas, nothing. If he didn’t keep in touch with her, she wouldn’t care.
He groaned, feeling the ache deep in his chest. He still cared about her. He’d cared about her when he was five, and he cared about her at thirty. When he’d called to tell her he’d fallen in love, he’d cared. When he’d told her he was getting married, he’d cared. And five years ago when he’d called to tell her that the marriage hadn’t worked out, he’d cared. But in none of the conversations he’d had with her through the years, had she ever shown him more than the little polite conversation one has with an old friend. If it hadn’t been for the one incessant vision he’d had of the two of them, perhaps he would have stopped calling her years ago.
The only time Jake saw glimpses of the friendship he’d valued so long was when he heard there was a storm coming. On these times Torrie seemed genuinely glad to talk to him, even expectant. He’d calm her down, and they’d laugh over her silliness. The only time since he’d been gone he’d not called her during a storm or threat of hurricane was when he’d been married. He had the first year, then he’d stopped, saving his calls to Torrie on special occasions. He’d decided he couldn’t worry any longer about talking her through the storms.
Once his divorce was final, he’d slipped back into his old pattern as easily as one slipped into a comfortable pair of loafers. He knew Torrie. He knew she was probably watching the weather reports like a hawk. And he knew she would be scared, but he also knew she wouldn’t leave New Orleans, wouldn’t seek safety. That knowledge made him sick with worry. For once he was the one taking Torrie’s dreams seriously. Damn, he thought for the third time and dialed her number.

Forever And A Day

Great news!!! My first cover from Parker publishing and you're the first to see it. Let me know what you think. email me. Two people born and raised in New Orleans, have drastically different lives until a storm unites them. But can love overcome secrets, corruption and economic class? Can true love survive Katrina? Light skinned, privileged and with the right last name Jake Broussard know none of the hardships and prejudices Torrie has suffered, but he knows he loves her. Chocolate beauty, Torrie Thibodeaux, a resident of New Orleans lower ninth ward, doesn't feel so beautiful in a place where the ideal Black woman is light, bright and damn near white. But she only wants one man to think she's beautiful and worth to be loved. When Hurricane Katrina strikes the Big Easy, it brings Jake and Torrie together, but they are forced to defend their love and fight against tradition, corruption and greed

Review of Misty Blue from Romantic times

BOOK REVIEW
MISTY BLUEby Dyanne DavisRT Rating: 4 Stars: Category: CONTEMPORARY ROMANCEPublisher: Genesis Press/indigoPublished: May 2006Type: Contemporary Romance (African-American)
In this sequel to The Wedding Gown, Davis presents more mature characters and reveals greater details surrounding Mia's and Damien's upbringings. Examining the psychological effects of child abandonment and self-doubt, the author depicts a much more complicated tale. Not the typical alpha male, Damien's character adds a delicate balance of sensitivity -- just when Mia needs it most -- without coming across as weak-willed. And though Mia's thoughts don't always make sense, she is a likeable heroine that readers will have a difficult time forgetting. This is, by far, Davis' best work yet, and alludes to the fact that this series may become a trilogy. (May, 220 pp., $9.95)—T.L. Burton
Find this book on Amazon.com:

Interview with Talented Book Cover Designer Chris Esler

Hi Chris. Thank you so much for agreeing to do this interview. I’ve admired your work not only on my own book covers but also on some of the other genesis authors. It is your work that’s seen first and it’s that first impression that will get the reader interested in picking up the book. You are the first line as it were. Your work is a direct partnership with the author even if you’ve never met them. And it is your work that the readers ask a lot of questions about.

Q: So tell me Chris How did you first get into this field?

A: I got into graphic design after realizing I didn’t want to take accounting in college. I knew I loved computers, and yet I loved to draw. I was a sophomore and really didn’t know what I wanted to do after changing my major. One day my father gave me a newsletter from his university (University of Eastern Washington) and there was an interview was with someone my father thought I might be interested in. The interview was with a fellow alum named Todd McFarlane. Some may not know him, but I was amazed. He was a talented comic book artist and writer who became extremely well known for doing Spiderman for Marvel Comics. The article was about him and his fellow comic artists starting their own comic book company called Image, and Todd’s new comic hero was named Spawn (you might have seen the movie). Anyways, Mr. McFarlane also elaborated about how he studied Graphic Design. Immediately I knew that was what I wanted to do. At least the publishing part of it. And to be able to still draw was a plus too!

Towards the end of graduation I managed to get a lucky call from Wilbur Colom of Genesis Press who was fishing my university for designers to work on some book covers. My first book cover was called “Lasting Valor” by Vernon Baker and Ken Olsen about the first African American to win the medal of honor. It’s an autobiography that turned out to be a big deal – there was a foreword by General Colon Powell and a few notes by President Clinton. This ended up being the start of something that I fell in love with.

Q: Was this a lifelong dream of yours

A: Growing up I always liked to read. I was reading Moby Dick and Jack London when I was seven years old. My parents were very supportive of my appetite for reading. Did I know that this would possibly lead me to a calling that I was passionate about? At the time, no. But after having actually done my first book cover, I was hooked and a lot of it is due I believe to my early attraction to reading mixed in with my desire to create something visual. A business partner and myself started a company called Interlink Media Group to take on the demand for our design services for both print and for web.

Late in 1999, I had a disagreement with my business partner and I decided to part ways. I took a new job that was strictly web oriented. I thought I would be ok without doing books. But I really did not know how much I would miss it.

After a couple of years of being away, I called Genesis again to see if there was any overflow work that I could possibly help with. As fate would have it, they did need help, and this is what I consider to be the truly defining start of my book designing career. Most of the books that I have done from this point in time have been some of the best work I’ve ever done. Part of it has to be that I had grown in skills with designing with the computer, but another part was the fact that I realized that this was something I loved, and I put all my passion into it and was able to produce some amazing covers. The feeling of being able to go to a book store and see something that you did, or to even get letters from the authors thanking me for making their cover really did make it a dream come true.

The work has grown to such a level, that my wife has become a key player in helping me keeping up with things by scheduling, researching, and doing basic administration of what has become our small family book design business that we call Dibolmi. In case you are wondering, Dibolmi is the internet name of my wife that I knew when we had first met online 7 years ago. It stands for her full name, Diana Teresa Bolivar Millan. That was a mouthful, so she came up with Dibolmi. But I digress.

So I would say yes, book design was a lifelong dream, but it took me a little bit of time to realize it. I don’t want to ever step away from it again. I would like to be designing books fulltime, and slowly I am creeping my way towards being able to fulfill that dream.

Q: Can you name some of the other books that you have designed covers for? Of course I know that you’ve done, The Color of Trouble, The Wedding Gown, Misty Blue and my next book, Let’s Get it On.

A: I have designed probably close to 200 books. I can’t really name them all. One of my favorites though is of course my first book Lasting Valor, for sentimental reasons. Probably some of the newer covers I’ve done for mass market paperbacks have been pretty good. I’ve done covers for Gwynne Forster, Donna Hill, Beverly Clark, and of course Dyanne Davis. J

Q: Chris, can you tell us if the author has any input at all on the covers?


A: Well it depends. If it is a reasonable request that won’t have a terrible impact on the marketability of a cover, I would say the publisher will consider an authors request. However, if for some reason the request is whimsical and not entirely relevant to the story or characters, the publisher may pull rank and say no. I’ve seen it go both ways.

Personally, I like to get some feedback from the author because it helps me capture the essence of their book. Obviously I have to design a cover that will sell, but I also want to make the soul of the book apparent. The old adage of “don’t judge a book by its cover” holds no merit in this day and age

Q: What do you use for your inspiration for covers? Do you use back cover blurb or marketing information?

A: I generally get a tip sheet that has basic information about the book. I tend to pull most inspiration through lots of research and gut feeling. My wife and myself sit down and take the name of the book and dissect it. Writing out many synonyms for the title as well as reading the synopsis and writing out synonyms for the basic plot of the story. We use these as our keywords and begin a massive search for images on all the various image libraries. Most of the time I’ll know when I see an image that it is the one. But sometimes a image will only be good for part of my vision so I have to use more images to develop the cover into a collage. And there is the occasional moment where I actually do a full blown illustration.

There are times though where I can’t seem to get the cover. This is definitely where I get in touch with the author to help lead me out of my block by helping me understand their characters and the situations they are in.

Q. I’ve visited your website just to get an idea of what else you’re working on. Could you tell the readers what it is that you’re working on and what they can expect to see when they visit your website?

A: Well I have two websites actually. I have my personal website (http://www.chrisesler.com/) which is more of a reflection of my thoughts regarding work in the internet field as well as book design. Not much in the way of photos unless they are of my adorable two year old daughter Isabella.

My new site that I am pushing for my design work as a book designer and illustrator is called Dibolmi (http://www.dibolmi.com/). To get an idea of what I’ve done and what I’m doing is to check out the Portfolio section. I am currently adding all the books I’ve ever done there. So far I’m on 1999 with some 2003. I plan to have them all uploaded soon so you can see what I’m working on.

The Dibolmi website will have a lot more information about the services I offer and news about my covers. I think the biggest new lately is that one of my covers was going to be featured at Book Expo of America by Kensington Publishing Group.

Q: Of course, I know that you’re a genius with the romance book covers. Are there any other romance publishers you work with?

A: Only recently have things gotten to a point where I am pushing to do this full time. I currently only work with Genesis Press. I work with Kensington Publishing Group, but with them I am still work on Genesis Press books…just their mass market books.

I’m really looking to get my name out there as much as possible among the publishers to be able to get more covers to work on. Maybe I can become the next Chipp Kidd…hehe. Or at least reach some level of notoriety (hopefully good) that I can work with many many publishers. Know of any other publishers that might need some book design help? ;)



Q: Are you working on any other genre, --non-fiction, sci fi, paranormal?

A: The primary genre I deal with is romance due in part to Genesis Press who focuses mostly on romance. But I have done and still do some general fiction, autobiographies, anthologies, Christian and lately scifi.

Q. Chris , I’m jut curious and you don’t have to say romance (smile) what are your favorite covers and what covers make you cringe?

A: That’s a tough one. I don’t think there is any particular genre that is better than others. Its more about the design. I’m an artsy person, so I like things to be different. I like some things that are busy and some things that are simple. Handling of color and typography is very important as well as knowing what sort of media you are going to be printing on.

Probably the genre though with the least attractive covers are self-help books – think “Books for Dummies”. A great designer that I aspire to his level is Chipp Kidd who works for Random House – There are a couple of books out now that actually chronical his work over the past 10 years.

Q: There are a lot of self published authors and I’m sure they’re going to want to know if they can get you to do covers for them. Is that a possibility?

A: Give me a call, shoot me an email. I’d be happy to design their book covers. You can reach me at my agency website http://www.dibolmi.com/ or at my personal website http://www.chrisesler.com/

Q: Do you read any of the books before you design the cover?

A: I used to read them more when I was typesetting the books as well as the cover. But not so much anymore. But I do look through the insides when I get my copy, and if it peaks my interest I have read them.

Q: Would you take an author’s idea for a cover? Example: landscape and make a cover from that?

A: maybe. If it is explained poorly, maybe not. But if there is some well thought out explanation of what they would like, it’s a good possibility because now I have a better understanding of the story. Someone who says they want a cover with a field of grass and blue sky and that’s all they say will probably not get my ear. But if someone states that the grass and blue sky have some sort of meaning on the story like the main character always finds peace by thinking of a blue sky with green grass. Sure, I am more inclined to listen to their wants.

Q: What works best for you when you’re conceiving a cover-do you like images-general concepts, specifies-as in specific colors…?

A: The best inspiration for me is a well thought out title with maybe a paragraph or two of the story. Of course I need to know about the characters and general appearance. I don’t like specific colors, because that limits me a lot and can cause me to freeze up on a design. I like generalities such as locations, maybe income level or occupation, and general appearance. That gives me enough information most of the time for my own imagination to take control and I can see in my head what I want for the design.

Q: What type of cover do you like doing-cartoon, illustration, photo…
Do you have a favorite style? And if so do you think a particular style is more effective?

A: Lately I’ve been trying to do more illustration, but the drawings are based off photos. But I still deal mostly with photography. That is where my strengths are in photoshop. I’ve used that program since version 2, so I’ve gotten it down pretty good. I use it to merge photos and change peoples races or take someones face and put it on anothers body.

Probably the most effective style is some sort of high contrast. And some illustrations do this nicely. A good example is to look at some artwork by Frank Miller (known for his books Sin City). Amazing high contrast illustrations.

Q: Do you show your work to the authors before the final decision is made?

A: That generally is left up to the publisher. But if I am conversing with an author via email, I will email them a proof as it moves forward.

Q: Do you illustrate any of the really racy covers?

A: Christian Romance? Yes, although they are the hardest to do. Interracial Romance? Yes, and these can be hard depending on the setup. Steamy Romance? Yes. Erotica? Yes. The racier the cover, illustration seems to work better. It kind of works likes a tease and makes the readers mind take control and ask the question “what do they mean by that?” which in turns causes them to pick it up.


Q: What would be an option other than one with people for historical romances?

A: Historical romances are hard. You almost always have to use people, but you can use objects that are referenced to that time such as spectacles, corset, white gloves, etc. Illustration works well here too. If you are going to use people, you will be hard pressed to find appropriate photos.



Q: Does the author have the option of using an abstract covers and then putting pictures on the first inside page?

A: Hrm. That probably is up to the publisher, but I’ve never seen that really.


Chris, I want to thank you again and wish you continued success. You are truly gifted. you again. Please if there is anything at all you’d like to leave the reader with that wasn’t asked in this interview go ahead and tell us.

Where can readers reach you? And what other sites can they view samples of your work?

I’m putting up all the examples of my book covers and web designs on http://www.dibolmi.com/portfolio/index.php

They should all be up there in the next couple of days.

I can be reached a variety of ways.

Email: chris.esler@gmail.com

Website: http://www.dibolmi.com/ & http://www.chrisesler.com/

Phone: 425-220-7738

Skype: chrisesler
Skype Phone #: 425-296-6590

MSN Messenger: chrisesler2

Yahoo Messenger: chrisesler_2000

I would give my address, but we are about to move to about 30 minutes north of Seattle.

Great website

http://www.bookwebwarehouse.com/


http://dyannedavis.pbwiki.com/
please check out book web warehouse

Interview With A Reader

With the recent formation of our book club I decided to interview one of our readers. As we all know, to a writer, the readers are the ones we want to hear from. It is for the readers that we write. I want to thank Linda for agreeing to be interviewed. 1. What is your favorite genre? Romance? Paranormal? Sci-fi? Mystery? Answer:My favorite genres are romance, fiction, and chick lit. I will read almost anything with an interesting storyline.

2. What will make you pick up a new author? Answer:A lot of decisions go into me picking a new author who I've never read before. I read reviews on Amazon and other sites. I ask friends if they ever read this author. I check their ratings on Amazon to see if they are a popular author. Most importantly, the author has to have written something interesting for me to go out of my way to try their books. Also a pretty cover never hurts! LOL

3. What is one thing would you like to see more of in the books you love? Answer:What a great question! I would like stories that don't have predictable outcomes. With a lot of romance novels, the same storyline is recycled over and over again. I like real characters. Every character in a book doesn't have to be 110 pounds, blond hair, and blue eyes. I like when an author goes out of her way to write something original and different from everything else that has already been written.

4. Tell us a little something about yourself. Have you yourself ever wanted to be a writer? Answer:I love to read, but I have never thought of writing myself. I know it takes a lot of work and skills to become a writer. As of now, I am content with just reading wonderful books rather than writing one myself.

5. Do you find most authors approachable? Answer:I have never met an author in person, but I have chatted with a lot of authors. The authors I did chat with were very approachable and friendly.

6.Besides getting an invitation to join Romancing the Book, book-club, what made you join? Answer:I joined because I like hearing about new authors and books.

7. What do you hope will come out of being a member? Answer: Learning about new authors and hear about new books to read.

8. Judging by your email address it's obvious that you love to read. Do you read everyday? Answer:Yes I read everyday, every minute, every chance I get.

9. Linda, do you think if our youth read more it would have an effect on their lives and if so why? Answer:Reading is a positive thing for children to do. Reading opens your mind and your imagination to a whole new world. I think having your child read, instead of watching TV and playing video games is fundamental when they are developing to be adults.

Writers, there you have it. To Linda and all readers thank you and please continue to read.

Now What?

This question is for the writers: Now that you have acheived your dream with getting the phone call, tell us what happened next for you interms of emotions and work. Curious. it't the reason for the Now what.

Take a moment

From time to time I've paid a visit to the blogs of my friends. I'm impressed that they manage to keep up with it and have so many things of interest. I've seen pictures and interviews, tips, all kinds of things. And I've wanted those things to magically appear on mine. I waited for it to happened but alas it didn't. Guess what? I found out that I have to actually write it myself. WOW!! Okay, take for instance the fact that I just attempted to start a new paragraph and the thing wouldn't move. Sometimes I think my computer has a mind of it's own. Anyway, forgive me for all of this being together but, hey, blame the computer not me. For the past month I've been stressed with writing and editing and having no time to think. For the moment I'm done and it feels good. I know I only have a short breather before the next book is edited for 2007 so I will enjoy this little respite while I can. Take care. If you read this drop a line, let me know how your stressful days are going. Peace,