Weblog of Romantic Intrigue Novelist Lynde Lakes.

Novel Excerpts

2012-01-11T14:16:00-05:00

Excerpts :HAPPY NEW YEAR!! To my readers and sister & brother writers Visit Lynde at Face Book or www.lynde.com Seven NEW releases coming up between Jan 2012 and April. Enjoy.

1/11/2012 Intrigue-suspense-thriller Author: J Today, I’m sharing excerpts tangled with romance, intrigue and page-turning action. Excerpts follow the blurbs.

Evernight Books: Evernight.com New hot off the press release! MURDER IN THE CLEAR ZONE.
Hot, Hard-bodied Relocation Agent Bard Nichols is merely
tryng to do his job. But once he clashes with the fiery-haired Bird Lady, a mysterious young widow and orphan with a questionable past, he is irrevocably drawn into the deadliest skirmish of his life--a world of intrigue and undeniable steamy passion—a world of Janus-faced enemies. And now that his life in on the line, the Bird Lady seems to have switched sides, changed personalities and joined his rival.

MURDER IN THE CLEAR ZONE (excerpt) Lynde Lakes
PROLOGUE
California 1986
Charlie’s heart pounded wildly as he ran through the darkness. The sounds of labored breathing and thunder of half a dozen booted feet pursued close behind. The bastards had silencers on their guns. When a bullet tore into his thigh, he bit his lip to keep from crying out. Blood trickled down his leg, draining his strength. The gang of thieving, murderous scum wouldn’t stop until he was dead. Dying, he could handle. But not abandoning Paula to face these killers alone

Less than half a mile to the north, across the stretch of vacant land, twinkled the scattered dim glow of streetlights in the South Tippecanoe housing tract where she slept. Gravel crunched behind him. Breath burned in his lungs. He stumbled over tumbleweeds and large stones. His left foot felt numb. Instinct, self-preservation, and the need to protect Paula urged him on. As an orphan, he learned to think on his feet. If he couldn’t fight his way out of a tight spot, he’d deal his way out. But he wouldn’t deal with these evil bastards.

He ran parallel to the dry riverbed and left behind the housing area and the blue blinking lights of the Norton runway. He swallowed cool night air in agonizing gulps. A bullet whizzed past his head.

He leapt into the dry wash, about a six-foot drop, and came down hard. The crunch echoed through the night. His bleeding, torn leg gave way and propelled him forward. His temple smashed against a rock. Pain seared through him. He clamped his jaw tight to avoid crying out. He staggered to his feet. Ignoring the blood streaming down the side of his face, he scrambled on.

He couldn’t focus his eyes. The silvery moon blurred and eclipsed. He staggered on squinting, blinking.

Shouted curses and heavy thuds of boots landing on rocks echoed behind him. Damn. They’d followed him into the wash.

He kept going. The dry riverbed, roughened by more scrub brush and boulders the size of a VW bug, snaked along, cut aimlessly by past floods. Something small scurried across in front of him.

Ahead, the wash curved and split.

Blood ran from his temple into his eyes. He lurched forward. Keep going. Keep going. I have to get to Paula…have to warn her. At the divide, he veered left—the “boots” went right.

I have a chance!

His head swam. Blood soaked his jeans. His legs buckled. He dropped to his knees onto the rugged stones. With the last of his diminishing strength, he crawled behind a boulder. The rock bed cut into his back. He’d ditched the men who wanted to kill him. But they’d get the last laugh. He could only lie here under the fuzzy glow of moonlight while his blood seeped away like water from a punctured canteen.

He took in a gulp of air pungent with blood and stinking scrub brush.

Paula...what have I done?

He heard a crunch and looked up. The man standing over him blocked out the blurry moon. He heard the pop of the silencer. An instant later the bullet tore into his chest and exploded in his heart.
****
Note: VIRGIN WOLF III. VW III Is being reviewed by a publisher. It investigates the turmoil and chilling danger when too many lusting werewolves get into the action. Especially when the evil one wants bloody revenge.

VIRGIN WOLF I. Happy reading!
ISBN: 978-1-936279-41-8 Available in Print & E-book format. VIRGIN WOLF I—Mt. Baldy, California. Angela Ward, a Gemini virgin, hates controlling men, especially in their wolfish form. When she meets the gorgeous Alpha werewolf Damon Lamont III, she fights falling under his spell. Her equally controlling wolf-counterpart, however, sees this handsome Alpha’s attempt at control and fiery passion as a delicious challenge, forcing Angela to make an exception. Angela knows she’s courting danger by falling prey to her feral desires with a man who may be the hairy beast tearing out the throats of innocent young women in her community.

See OTHER excepts at: www.lyndelakes.com

Evernight Publisher Intrigue novel to be released later this month.
POINTING Leaf-by Lynde Lakes.
In her wildest dreams, Toni, city-girl detective, never imagined she would seriously consider the proposal of a muscled, tattooed sheep rancher, with a rope of hair to his waist, dressed in a loin cloth and feathers. Rad knew the moment he spied this knockout petite trespasser and she pointed the tip of the ritual-leaf at his heart, that she came in war. The war turns deadly when an old enemy vows to destroy then kill Rad.

Also Check out AMIRA PRESS for new release!
VIRGIN WOLF II, MELLIZO WOLVES. DOUBLE THE PASSION DOUBLE THE DANGER. ISBN: 978-1-936279-1
By Lynde Lakes

Victoria wondered if Rick knew she was a werewolf, would he still calmly sit there on his Harley Road King, revving his motor. And would he still insist that she climb nude onto his bike and wrap her chilled flesh around his hot bod?

Rick never imagined that being a knight on a shiny Harley with a natural tendency to help anyone in distress would turn his life upside down, make him believe the unbelievable, all while fighting a fiery desire that, in spite of the gorgeous she-wolf constantly thrusting herself at him, he must repeatedly reject—in spite of the fact that her passion is like none he’d ever even dared to dream of. When lust turns to love, the balance tips, but will his Indian sense of honor and his promise to her father keep them apart? Or can he play the waiting game and have it all? He fears with all that burning passion and raging hormones she might not wait. He was taking a big chance...

Angela, now a protective mother, trembled. If she accepted the wily psychic’s prophesy, her fear wasn’t merely the haunting dregs from the past, but a new and more indestructible evil.

Excerpt: Afternoon darkness wrapped a malevolent mist around the towers of the historic mansion nestled below Mt. Baldy. Angela Ward-Lamont had barely stepped into the foyer and heard the latch click before the December storm broke. Thunder echoed around her and reverberated through the drafty rooms, sending tremors through her. She looked around the unsettling sanctuary she now shared with her new husband, Damon. Another tremor slid down her back as an icy essence drifted over her. She felt like Little Red Riding Hood who, after escaping a fierce storm, found herself in the wolf’s den. Yet, more frightening than her daunting surroundings were the Lamont family’s undying secrets. What if within this mansion, with its soaring towers, there were dark, undiscovered rooms and twisting tunnels? The prickling hairs at the back of her neck warned that lurking within the darkness behind the walls were dusty dregs of evil. Although Reeves was dead and his ashes scattered behind the mansion, she had an eerie sense of his presence. A log shifted in the fireplace. She jumped and looked around, expecting someone or something to be there, but she was alone. A shadow shifted…
****
VIRGIN WOLF I By Lynde Lakes (Book I of a trilogy)

Excerpt, VIRGIN WOLF--The outside stormy weather’s was like sandpaper on Angela Ward’s nerves. Usually adept at keeping her emotions in check, she paced the bedroom, lit only by dim, shadow-inducing evening lamplight, and fought the edginess that gripped her. Was more bad news brewing in the storm? She paused at the window and stared out through the pelting raindrops toward the imposing mansion nestled below Mt. Baldy. Although she saw little more than a foggy grayness and a hint of a hazy light, its fascination had never been stronger than now. A clap of thunder broke nearby. She shivered and rubbed her arms as a bolt of lightning arced and illuminated the stone fortress and its magnificent towers. She suspected that those towers, soaring skyward, contributed heavily to the eerie quality that provided the locals with a vivid, intriguing mysterious citadel to stir their wild conjectures.
Few, if any, had ever seen the original owner or his grandson, but longtime community residents claimed both were quite mad. Some speculated that the grandson had killed a sister and the grandfather and now lived there alone with a gimpy, hunchback servant. In her youth, Angela had fanned the flames among her friends with her ghost stories about the evil-looking place and its enigmatic occupants. Although strangely drawn to the place, she had never ventured up there. Folks in the rumor-mill claimed that those who did vanished.
***
Please don’t forget DEADLY INFLUENCE set in Redlands, California. Print & E-book. E-book ISBN 978-1-936-279-05-0
Print Book ISBN 978-1-936-279-06-7

Sparks fly when Air Force Intelligence Lieutenant Jay Corning, is tackled by Lisa Dixson, the female version of “The Bodyguard.” As they spar, the escalating danger closes in from the dark corners of the small community, stirring fears & steamy emotions.

Excerpt, DEADLY INFLUENCE
By LYNDE LAKES
PROLOGUE
California. The leisurely lunch and shopping trip to Los Angeles with her nephew’s wife, Shirley, had failed to ward off Meta Corning’s uneasiness about the frightening after midnight phone calls. The eighty-year-old matriarch of the Corning Estate clung tighter to Shirley’s arm as they approached the crowded Broadway crosswalk. When the pedestrian sign clicked to halt, Shirley pulled away and dug in her purse for something. Meta shivered at the loss of contact. Last night the caller had said, “Death would come swiftly.”

Meta closed her eyes, searching for a calm place. Although Shirley’s carefree mood all afternoon had kept her from dwelling on those words, now they plagued her. She forced them away—think only of Shirley, she told herself. Shirley was always more fun when away from the stress of being a wife and mother—and away from her husband, Tyrant Tom.

People closed in around Meta, separating her from Shirley. “Shirley,” Meta called, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. She glanced back. The barricade of people—all heads taller than she—looked at down at her with stern, impatient expressions. Shirley was nowhere in sight. The crowd inched forward, pressing Meta to the edge of the curb. Cars and trucks roared through the intersection far too close, whipping the air, increasing her trepidation. A bus in the curbside lane barreled toward the intersection. Meta tried to step back, but a big hand on her back stopped her retreat and shoved her into the street. She flailed her arms, but her clawing fists failed to grab anything but empty air…
***
Check out COWBOY LIES. ISBN#978-1-935348-05-4
(Book I of the Ryan Ranch Trilogy) See below.

Setting SOUTH TEXAS Available in print and E-book format
Four-Star Review from Romantic Times Book Reviews
Four Angel Review from Fallen Angel Reviews
Also available: book #2 Lasso That Cowboy and book # three, Undercover Cowboy.
Excerpt,COWBOY LIES-LYNDE LAKES (Book I of a Trilogy)
Terrifying memory flashes of blood-splattered walls and an empty crib warns Molly to trust no one. Especially not this hot cowboy. Molly stared at the Stetson-wearing hunk of testosterone pacing next to the fireplace, and shook her head. "I don't like this. Nothing seems right!"

The possibility that she'd ever loved this man, let alone married him, was as remote as finding the proverbial needle in a haystack, yet it was exactly what he wanted her to believe.

"You’re gonna have to trust me on this one, Molly," he drawled and headed out of the room.

She followed him down the hallway, running to keep up. "Not so fast, cowboy. What did
you say your name was again?" He'd already told her, but she wanted to keep him talking while she figured things out.

He entered a nursery and stopped by the crib. A big, smile spread over his face. He was drop-dead handsome. Tall and lean. With a body custom built to wear those hip-hugging faded blue denim jeans. So what had he done in the past that just looking at him gave her the urge to pound his impressive chest?
***
Excerpt, LASSO THAT COWBOY Book II Ryan Ranch Trilogy
ISBN978-1-93-5348-32-0
Amber rubbed her throbbing head and fought a wave of dizziness. Running away felt like a bad choice to start a new life. But waking up next to a lifeless, bloody body told her that if she’d stayed in San Antonio, sooner or later, she’d be jailed or worse yet…dead.

Elmer, the trucker she’d hitched a ride with, pulled his flatbed semi into the center of a complex of ranch buildings. “This is as far as Betsy can go to make an easy wide turn,” he said in his thick Texas drawl.

He had the fierce look of an albino gorilla, but Amber had learned in their hours riding together that he had the heart of a teddy bear. Elmer hauled lumber and fencing supplies into the Bar R cattle ranch, and she’d lucked out getting a ride with him from San Antonio to this nowhereland about a hundred miles north of the Mexico border. She had ignored the no riders sign painted on his door and told him she was broke and needed a lift to get a job. Elmer sized her up and gestured for her to get into the cab. She’d felt comfortable with him from the moment she settled into the passenger seat. The pictures of his wife and two teenage daughters tucked into the visor over his head suggested he was a family man, and the gentleness in his voice when he talked about them warmed her heart.

“You gonna be all right?” he asked.

Amber nodded. The dizziness had passed. Now she felt empty, lost. The activity behind the roar of ranch machinery and grange trucks should’ve made her feel not quite so alone. But she was alone. Totally alone. She had no ID in her wallet, no pictures of loved ones. A woman with no past. She’d better get used to it.

She sighed, grabbed her suitcase and slid from the cab. Elmer moved his truck ahead. He circled slowly until the driver’s side of his polished black cab came parallel with her.

“If this job falls through,” he said, shouting over the idling engine, “be out by the dirt road in front of the bunk house at 5:00 A.M. sharp. I won’t wait!”

The June sky was light blue, cloudless. Amber shaded her aching eyes from the blinding morning sun and looked up at him. The upward tilt of her head sent pain shooting up the column of her neck into the base of her skull. “You know something about this place that I don’t?” They were both yelling over the head-splitting engine noise now.

“It’s just that…if Luke Ryan’s gonna be your boss, you maybe oughta git your pay up front.”

Oh great. Her prospective employer might be a deadbeat. “Thanks for the tip, Elmer.”

Too bad she hadn’t heard that discouraging news before coming all this way with a mere three bucks in her wallet. Since she didn’t have all that many options, she wouldn’t count bossman Ryan out completely. She would make her own evaluation of the man.

To the right, an impressive Spanish villa stood off by itself on a small knoll. They had passed other large homes on the property along the long dusty lane from the main road. Elmer said they housed top ranch people. This classy piece of real estate must belong to the big kingpin. “Is that Luke Ryan’s place?” she asked. “I hope, I hope.”

“Naw. He has a place up that dirt road out beyond the Big House. Never seen it, but I don’t think it’s much.”

Please, let it have indoor plumbing at the very least. “I thought Luke was the owner of this ranch.”

“May have an interest. Spread used to belong to Gavin Ryan, but for the last five years I’ve been dealin’ with his son, Matt.”

The job sounded worse by the minute. Amber fanned herself with her straw hat. The temperature was inching up fast. The brightness of the day gilded the surrounding barns and sheds with a golden hue. A job at the Bar R might not be a golden opportunity, but it was better than losing her life.

She blew upward at a wayward wisp of hair. “Thanks for the info, Elmer, and the ride.”

Elmer took a long drag from his cigarette then flicked the butt out the window with stubby nicotine-stained fingers. He rested his hairy, muscled arm on the window frame. “If you miss my pull out in the mornin’, I won’t be back for two weeks.”

She laughed. “You’re not the only ride heading out of here, friend.”

“Maybe the only one you can trust. Be careful, Amber girl. Knowin’ most of the other road jockeys comin’ in and out of this ranch like I do, I’d say you best wait for me to git yourself outta here.”

Amber thought of the loaded .38 in the purse hanging from a thin strap over her shoulder. Elmer had a point, she’d hate to shoot a guy for a little knee grabbing. “Where do you think I should look for this Luke Ryan fellow?”

“Try the office in the barn. Someone there should be able to find him for you.”

Elmer saluted and pulled away. A cloud of black diesel smoke curled from the exhaust pipe behind the cab. She sighed. Even after the truck turned down the side road and disappeared, Amber continued to stare. For miles there was only low rolling land, sowed with scrub oak, mesquite, and cactus, and in the far distance, a haze of rocky, purple mountains. The land was more severe than she’d expected—barren, even hostile. She had wanted a job in a remote place, and this location was about as remote as any she could’ve imagined.

Amber fought her fight-or-flight feeling and the paranoia that came from running. She shivered as the sense of isolation registered in a crushing blow. Taking a deep breath, she picked up her suitcase. She had to make this work.

Two dogs, a black mongrel and an Australian Shepherd with tan and white markings, came running toward her, barking. “Big bark, no bite, I hope?” she asked, crossing her fingers. They wagged their tails and trailed behind her. After a couple of dozen steps, a whistle sounded and they took off to answer the call.

“Fickle,” she said.

A smiling ranch hand came toward her. He was wiry, bowlegged and although as brown as tanned leather, he wasn’t Latino like most of the vaqueros who worked on South Texas ranches. “Lost, little lady?” he asked.

If only he knew how lost. She fought her instinctive fear of strangers. “I was told I might find Luke Ryan in the barn office.”

“You might,” he drawled. “Good a place as any. Follow me. I’m Pete.”

“Amber,” she said.

When they reached the barn, Amber saw that most of the thirty or more stalls stood empty. Sunshine streamed through the high windows. The snort of a horse echoed through the wood structure. Somewhere at the other end of the barn, a radio was tuned to a Mexican station playing a Texas-Mexican quickstep.

Pete led her to an office in the middle of the barn. “Here, we are,” he said.

A name plate on the desk read Matt Ryan in bold letters. “I’m looking for Luke Ryan.”
Pete poured the dregs of coffee from a glass decanter into a mug and handed it to her. “I’ll git Luke for you.” He pointed to a chair. “Take a load off your feet.”

Amber sat down and took a sip of the coffee. She frowned at the bitterness and pushed it away. She’d rather have a cold glass of water and an aspirin. She drummed her fingers on the desk, then opened her purse and withdrew the help wanted ad for a nanny she’d clipped from the day-before-yesterday’s newspaper. She’d stapled the ad to the sheet of notes from her telephone conversation with her prospective boss. She smoothed the wrinkles from the paper. Mr. Ryan had said to get here as soon as possible for an interview. She had grabbed her already-packed bag and took a bus to the truck stop at the edge of town. Luck was on her side. When she hitched a ride with the first truck heading south, it was Elmer and he was coming straight to the Bar R. No one could have gotten here faster.

Amber extracted a small mirror from her purse. Using a mini brush, she gave her hair a few strokes. Then she smeared on some apricot mist lipstick and smudged a little onto her cheeks. God, she still looked awful. What she needed was a complete makeover. Oh, well, she wasn’t applying for an office or modeling job. She just needed to look presentable—and reliable.

With no credentials to back her up, she had to rely on her wits. She got up and paced, rubbing her arms. Had she made a mistake coming here? No, it would be all right. What better place to hide?

Outside the door near the stalls, a young couple was arguing. Amber pressed herself close to the door frame and listened. With a razor sharp tongue, the girl was dressing-down the guy about flirting with some gal at a rodeo in Reno. Amber moved closer where she could see them, but they couldn’t see her. Maybe she’d hear something to help her ace this interview.

The young man had a thick rope of black hair hanging down his back. He was about nineteen, tall, lean and had a wild, brooding look. The girl, poured into Levi’s and a halter top, was about the same age, maybe a little younger. The way she tossed that sexy mane of blonde hair and thrust her breasts about suggested she was used to using her physical attributes to her advantage.

“Y’all know two can play the flirting game, Roberto.” The girl’s tone twanged with the threat.

“What are you talking about, Suzy?” Roberto eyes flashed, reminding Amber of an Indian brave about to go on the warpath.

Suzy smiled sweetly. “Mando’s here. He drove in a couple of hours ago.”

“Mando showing up is bound to cause trouble on the ranch. He’s bad news for Luke. He and Mando were two-fisted drinking buddies when they rode the circuit together. Luke won’t be able to stay sober with him around. A hundred bucks sez Luke’ll hit the bottle within the week.”

Suzy lifted her chin. “I’ll take that bet. He didn’t topple when Connie Lou died. No ol’ drinking buddy will send him over the edge.”

“Hate to take money from an innocent young thing.” Roberto grinned. “Oh, that’s right, there’s nothing innocent about you.”

Suzy gave him a shove. “Ridin’ the rodeo circuit’s ruined your manners. Maybe when I win that C note from you, it’ll prove you’re not such a hotshot after all.”

He laughed. “Last chance to back out. I’ll give you fair warning, Luke’s been hanging on by a thread.”

Amber groaned to herself and moved back into the office. She plunked down in a
chair and rubbed her aching head. What next? Her prospective employer had a drinking problem. This wasn’t going to work. She got to her feet and headed out of the barn.

She’d only taken a few steps when a lasso came from the front and flipped over her head, knocking off her straw hat and closing tight around her arms. She dropped her suitcase. The latch broke, and her clothes spilled out into the dirt next to her hat.

“What the devil?” she screeched, fighting the taut rope and fear.

Three men blocked her path: Pete, the ranch hand who had taken her to the office and given her the bitter, simmered-to-death coffee and a vaquero who looked like Poncho Villa. She zeroed in on the third cowboy smirking at the end of the rope. He was tall and lean with a body sculptured to wear those hip-hugging denim Levi’s. He had coal black hair and, in spite of a faint zigzagging scar on his cheek just below his eye that made him look as dangerous as hell. Still, she determined she wasn’t in any real danger. At least not if you discounted that something about him made her heart race like a floor-boarded engine.

“Well, lookie here,” the cowboy said. “I’ll be damned if I didn’t lasso myself a cute li’l’ heifer.”

Under his black Stetson tipped high on his forehead, the cowboy’s angular face twisted with a cocky, bad boy smile. He was in his mid-twenties with a demeanor that screamed strength and reckless arrogance. The flicker of boyishness in his eyes confirmed his intention to have a good time at her expense while showing off for his buddies. Her head throbbed. She didn’t need this. “Look, rude dude, don’t call me a cow. And get your blasted rope off me.”
****
Excerpt, UNDERCOVER COWBOY (Book III Ryan Ranch Trilogy)
ISBN: 978-1-93-5348-70-2
“Twenty and restricted to the compound!” Sara Jane Ryan shouted to her horse. “Can you believe it? Well, I’ll show Dad.” She dug her heels a little too firmly into the coal-black quarter-horse’s flanks. He sidestepped and tossed his head in protest. She stroked his silky mane. “Sorry, Demon, but Dad makes me see red—barn on-fire-red!” She blew at a wayward tendril of curly auburn hair in utter frustration.

Her ride had taken her to the west sector of the Ryan’s south Texas ranch where tangles of mesquite trees, scrub oak, and cactus lined the well-beaten path. Since Verde Creek was on her way to her client’s ranch, she decided to stop for a swim to cool off both her temper and body. A shiver slid through her—this was exactly the kind of isolated area Dad had warned her against.

She shook off her uneasiness. He wasn’t making her paranoid too. For years she’d stuck to his overprotective rules, but no more. If she let him get away with treating her like a child how could she respect herself, or expect him to respect her as an adult? In the distance, she heard a high-pitched whinny. She wrinkled her forehead. Who’d be so far out in the boondocks this time of the day? She shaded her eyes from the searing midmorning sun and squinted, looking for a rider’s silhouette or rising gusts of dust. Seeing neither in any direction, she decided that the whinny must have been from a stray from the small wild herd of mustangs that roamed these parts. It comforted her to see miles of gently rolling land and the distant purple haze where mountains reached up to meet a cloudless blue sky. In her view, God had never made anything more starkly beautiful.

Her sense of serenity faded as shadows of turkey buzzards circling overheard fell across her path. She looked up and shuddered. As useful as the buzzards were, they’d always repulsed her. She was too far out to be concerned that it might be a downed cow; apparently the scavengers had zeroed in on some other unlucky critter. Suddenly Demon rose and beat the air with his front hooves. Sara clamped her knees tight and gripped the saddle horn. “Easy, boy.” Likely the buzzards had made him nervous too.

A loud caw cut the air. She jumped and glanced into the trees. Carrion birds waited all humped over, eyes beady and hungry. Several expanded their wings and flew to the ground to close in on something. The smell of decaying flesh hit her nostrils before she saw the body of a woman lying face down in the overgrowth of mesquite.

Her skin prickled. “Whoa, boy.” Sara Jane dismounted fast and dropped her reins to the ground knowing Demon would stay. She remembered the whinny and wondered if the woman had been thrown, and her horse had run off. Waving her arms to shoo away the birds, Sara Jane approached the body slowly, then froze in her tracks. Her eyes widened and a chill shot through her. From the back the woman looked just like her, same long auburn hair and slender athletic build. One arm was up over her head. Sara Jane spied an Indian bracelet with three turquoise stones identical to the one her dad had designed and had special made for her thirteenth birthday. A week ago, the treasured gift had disappeared from her jewelry box. Sara Jane rubbed her arms. This was way too creepy. She felt like grabbing the bracelet and leaping back on her horse and hightailing it out of there. Fighting the urge, she bent and turned the woman over.

The face was gone! Sara Jane screamed, jumped back and scrambled to her feet. She pressed her lips tight, to hold back the bile that burned in her throat. Through a haze of shock it registered—the face was cut clean away with no ragged edges. No animal had done that. She glanced around, suddenly feeling alone and vulnerable.

She had to get out of there—now! But she couldn’t seem to move.
Struggling with fear and trembling, Sara Jane didn’t hear the horse come through the grove of mesquite behind her. At the sound of a man’s succinct oath, she whirled. The guy, in his late twenties, dismounted in one fluid motion. His legs were long, powerful looking. Jeans hugged him like a sheath. With cactus-green eyes flashing, he strode toward her, muscular and dangerous looking.

Standing as tall as her five feet, six inches would allow, she glared at him and raised an eyebrow. “Did you do this? Are you a killer drawn by that strong urge to return to the scene of the crime?” She fought to keep the waver out of her voice.

“What? God, no!” he said.

Unconvinced, she slowly backed toward her horse and the saddle bag where she kept her .38.

In a lower tone, no doubt meant to calm her into a false sense of security, he added, “I heard you scream.” His accent wasn’t Texan; that was for sure. “Don’t be afraid, Miss.” He didn’t say Ma’am, like a wrangler would.

His black jeans and western shirt were new, unfaded. He shifted his weight, and she noticed the holstered gun at his side for the first time. The weapon and square-shouldered stance of this gun-toting stranger sent another shiver through her. He raked his inky hair with long fingers made for computer keys or a gun trigger, not ranch work.

“Stay back!” she ordered, still moving away. Hot wind blew her hair about her face and lashed her body with unnerving electricity. The call of a distant hawk emphasized the isolation—and how very alone she was with this armed stranger.

He advanced a step closer. “Take it easy. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Expect me to believe that?” Sensing she was close to Demon, she whirled, reached into her saddle bag and drew her gun. “Don’t even twitch,” she said, aiming her .38 at a point between the man’s eyes. His expression darkened—he stopped dead in his tracks. Uncle Luke had always told her when in a tough spot, narrow your eyes, bare your teeth, and bluff. If that didn’t work—shoot the bastard. To save a family member she could pull the trigger, but to save her own life...? She prayed the urban cowboy wouldn’t test her. She wanted to tell him to drop his holstered gun but feared he might try something tricky and force her hand.

Sweat beaded on his forehead. But his steady gaze showed no fear. “You’ve got it wrong. I’m here to help.”

“Mighty nice of you, stranger,” she said, exaggerating her Texas drawl. “Don’t think I’m ungrateful, but I don’t need your help.” She leveled her narrowed gaze on him, gesturing with a slight tilt of her head at the body. “And it’s too damned late to help her.”

He pushed his black Stetson high on his forehead. His eyes softened marginally. “Tough girl, huh?” The huskiness in his voice vibrated through her.

“You’ve got that right,” she said, glaring at him. “You have the count of three to climb back on that sorry-looking mare and hightail it out of here. One...”

He shifted his weight on dusty, black leather boots that looked as new as his duds. He showed no sign of leaving. An amused, reckless expression flicked over his face. “Who the devil are you anyway?”

“I should be asking you that, except I don’t give a hoot.” Her throat felt raw. “Now git!” To her embarrassment, her voice cracked. She cocked her gun and resumed her countdown. “Two...”
His jaw tightened. Raw sexuality and defiance radiated from the hard planes of his face and the lean lines of his body, charging the air between them. Her gun hand trembled. Fear jelled into a cold lump in her stomach. “Three...” She whirled around and swung onto her horse. As she passed his mare, she slapped the animal on the rump and yelled, “Ha!” The roan took off.
The urban cowboy’s eyes widened and he shouted, “Hey!”
****
Hope you enjoyed the excerpts. Oh, Yes, If I may, please let me share my news: I have gone to contract on more romantic suspense novels: MURDER IN THE CLEAR ZONE with Evernight Publisher which was released on DECEMBER 21, 2011. POINTING LEAF With a January release, SILENT CYMBALS, a February release, PRIMITIVE FLAME a March release, and STAR FALLEN LOVER an April release. Also, BILLBOARD COP with Wildrose Press with an undefinite release date. For more news sign up for my blog or visit me on FACEBOOK. Let me hear from you. Aloha, Lynde Lakes. www.lyndelakes.com

Excerpts and you.

2012-01-11T14:07:00-05:00

Excerpts :HAPPY NEW YEAR!! To my readers and sister & brother writers Visit Lynde at Face Book or www.lynde.com Seven NEW releases coming up between Jan 2012 and April. Enjoy.

1/11/2012 Intrigue-suspense-thriller Author: J Today, I’m sharing excerpts tangled with romance, intrigue and page-turning action. Excerpts follow the blurbs.

Evernight Books: Evernight.com New hot off the press release! MURDER IN THE CLEAR ZONE

Hot, Hard-bodied Relocation Agent Bard Nichols is merely
tryng to do his job. But once he clashes with the fiery-haired Bird Lady, a mysterious young widow and orphan with a questionable past, he is irrevocably drawn into the deadliest skirmish of his life--a world of intrigue and undeniable steamy passion—a world of Janus-faced enemies. And now that his life in on the line, the Bird Lady seems to have switched sides, changed personalities and joined his rival.

MURDER IN THE CLEAR ZONE (excerpt) Lynde Lakes
PROLOGUE
California 1986
Charlie’s heart pounded wildly as he ran through the darkness. The sounds of labored breathing and thunder of half a dozen booted feet pursued close behind. The bastards had silencers on their guns. When a bullet tore into his thigh, he bit his lip to keep from crying out. Blood trickled down his leg, draining his strength. The gang of thieving, murderous scum wouldn’t stop until he was dead. Dying, he could handle. But not abandoning Paula to face these killers alone

Less than half a mile to the north, across the stretch of vacant land, twinkled the scattered dim glow of streetlights in the South Tippecanoe housing tract where she slept. Gravel crunched behind him. Breath burned in his lungs. He stumbled over tumbleweeds and large stones. His left foot felt numb. Instinct, self-preservation, and the need to protect Paula urged him on. As an orphan, he learned to think on his feet. If he couldn’t fight his way out of a tight spot, he’d deal his way out. But he wouldn’t deal with these evil bastards.

He ran parallel to the dry riverbed and left behind the housing area and the blue blinking lights of the Norton runway. He swallowed cool night air in agonizing gulps. A bullet whizzed past his head.

He leapt into the dry wash, about a six-foot drop, and came down hard. The crunch echoed through the night. His bleeding, torn leg gave way and propelled him forward. His temple smashed against a rock. Pain seared through him. He clamped his jaw tight to avoid crying out. He staggered to his feet. Ignoring the blood streaming down the side of his face, he scrambled on.

He couldn’t focus his eyes. The silvery moon blurred and eclipsed. He staggered on squinting, blinking.

Shouted curses and heavy thuds of boots landing on rocks echoed behind him. Damn. They’d followed him into the wash.

He kept going. The dry riverbed, roughened by more scrub brush and boulders the size of a VW bug, snaked along, cut aimlessly by past floods. Something small scurried across in front of him.

Ahead, the wash curved and split.

Blood ran from his temple into his eyes. He lurched forward. Keep going. Keep going. I have to get to Paula…have to warn her. At the divide, he veered left—the “boots” went right.

I have a chance!

His head swam. Blood soaked his jeans. His legs buckled. He dropped to his knees onto the rugged stones. With the last of his diminishing strength, he crawled behind a boulder. The rock bed cut into his back. He’d ditched the men who wanted to kill him. But they’d get the last laugh. He could only lie here under the fuzzy glow of moonlight while his blood seeped away like water from a punctured canteen.

He took in a gulp of air pungent with blood and stinking scrub brush.

Paula...what have I done?

He heard a crunch and looked up. The man standing over him blocked out the blurry moon. He heard the pop of the silencer. An instant later the bullet tore into his chest and exploded in his heart.
****
Note: VIRGIN WOLF III. VW III Is being reviewed by a publisher. It investigates the turmoil and chilling danger when too many lusting werewolves get into the action. Especially when the evil one wants bloody revenge.

VIRGIN WOLF I. Happy reading!
ISBN: 978-1-936279-41-8 Available in Print & E-book format. VIRGIN WOLF I—Mt. Baldy, California. Angela Ward, a Gemini virgin, hates controlling men, especially in their wolfish form. When she meets the gorgeous Alpha werewolf Damon Lamont III, she fights falling under his spell. Her equally controlling wolf-counterpart, however, sees this handsome Alpha’s attempt at control and fiery passion as a delicious challenge, forcing Angela to make an exception. Angela knows she’s courting danger by falling prey to her feral desires with a man who may be the hairy beast tearing out the throats of innocent young women in her community.

See OTHER excepts at: www.lyndelakes.com

Evernight Publisher Intrigue novel to be released later this month.
POINTING Leaf-by Lynde Lakes.
In her wildest dreams, Toni, city-girl detective, never imagined she would seriously consider the proposal of a muscled, tattooed sheep rancher, with a rope of hair to his waist, dressed in a loin cloth and feathers. Rad knew the moment he spied this knockout petite trespasser and she pointed the tip of the ritual-leaf at his heart, that she came in war. The war turns deadly when an old enemy vows to destroy then kill Rad.

Also Check out AMIRA PRESS for new release!
VIRGIN WOLF II, MELLIZO WOLVES. DOUBLE THE PASSION DOUBLE THE DANGER. ISBN: 978-1-936279-1
By Lynde Lakes

Victoria wondered if Rick knew she was a werewolf, would he still calmly sit there on his Harley Road King, revving his motor. And would he still insist that she climb nude onto his bike and wrap her chilled flesh around his hot bod?

Rick never imagined that being a knight on a shiny Harley with a natural tendency to help anyone in distress would turn his life upside down, make him believe the unbelievable, all while fighting a fiery desire that, in spite of the gorgeous she-wolf constantly thrusting herself at him, he must repeatedly reject—in spite of the fact that her passion is like none he’d ever even dared to dream of. When lust turns to love, the balance tips, but will his Indian sense of honor and his promise to her father keep them apart? Or can he play the waiting game and have it all? He fears with all that burning passion and raging hormones she might not wait. He was taking a big chance...

Angela, now a protective mother, trembled. If she accepted the wily psychic’s prophesy, her fear wasn’t merely the haunting dregs from the past, but a new and more indestructible evil.

Excerpt: Afternoon darkness wrapped a malevolent mist around the towers of the historic mansion nestled below Mt. Baldy. Angela Ward-Lamont had barely stepped into the foyer and heard the latch click before the December storm broke. Thunder echoed around her and reverberated through the drafty rooms, sending tremors through her. She looked around the unsettling sanctuary she now shared with her new husband, Damon. Another tremor slid down her back as an icy essence drifted over her. She felt like Little Red Riding Hood who, after escaping a fierce storm, found herself in the wolf’s den. Yet, more frightening than her daunting surroundings were the Lamont family’s undying secrets. What if within this mansion, with its soaring towers, there were dark, undiscovered rooms and twisting tunnels? The prickling hairs at the back of her neck warned that lurking within the darkness behind the walls were dusty dregs of evil. Although Reeves was dead and his ashes scattered behind the mansion, she had an eerie sense of his presence. A log shifted in the fireplace. She jumped and looked around, expecting someone or something to be there, but she was alone. A shadow shifted…
****

VIRGIN WOLF I By Lynde Lakes (Book I of a trilogy)

Excerpt, VIRGIN WOLF--The outside stormy weather’s was like sandpaper on Angela Ward’s nerves. Usually adept at keeping her emotions in check, she paced the bedroom, lit only by dim, shadow-inducing evening lamplight, and fought the edginess that gripped her. Was more bad news brewing in the storm? She paused at the window and stared out through the pelting raindrops toward the imposing mansion nestled below Mt. Baldy. Although she saw little more than a foggy grayness and a hint of a hazy light, its fascination had never been stronger than now. A clap of thunder broke nearby. She shivered and rubbed her arms as a bolt of lightning arced and illuminated the stone fortress and its magnificent towers. She suspected that those towers, soaring skyward, contributed heavily to the eerie quality that provided the locals with a vivid, intriguing mysterious citadel to stir their wild conjectures.
Few, if any, had ever seen the original owner or his grandson, but longtime community residents claimed both were quite mad. Some speculated that the grandson had killed a sister and the grandfather and now lived there alone with a gimpy, hunchback servant. In her youth, Angela had fanned the flames among her friends with her ghost stories about the evil-looking place and its enigmatic occupants. Although strangely drawn to the place, she had never ventured up there. Folks in the rumor-mill claimed that those who did vanished.
***
Please don’t forget DEADLY INFLUENCE set in Redlands, California. Print & E-book. E-book ISBN 978-1-936-279-05-0
Print Book ISBN 978-1-936-279-06-7

Sparks fly when Air Force Intelligence Lieutenant Jay Corning, is tackled by Lisa Dixson, the female version of “The Bodyguard.” As they spar, the escalating danger closes in from the dark corners of the small community, stirring fears & steamy emotions.

Excerpt, DEADLY INFLUENCE
By LYNDE LAKES
PROLOGUE
California. The leisurely lunch and shopping trip to Los Angeles with her nephew’s wife, Shirley, had failed to ward off Meta Corning’s uneasiness about the frightening after midnight phone calls. The eighty-year-old matriarch of the Corning Estate clung tighter to Shirley’s arm as they approached the crowded Broadway crosswalk. When the pedestrian sign clicked to halt, Shirley pulled away and dug in her purse for something. Meta shivered at the loss of contact. Last night the caller had said, “Death would come swiftly.”

Meta closed her eyes, searching for a calm place. Although Shirley’s carefree mood all afternoon had kept her from dwelling on those words, now they plagued her. She forced them away—think only of Shirley, she told herself. Shirley was always more fun when away from the stress of being a wife and mother—and away from her husband, Tyrant Tom.

People closed in around Meta, separating her from Shirley. “Shirley,” Meta called, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. She glanced back. The barricade of people—all heads taller than she—looked at down at her with stern, impatient expressions. Shirley was nowhere in sight. The crowd inched forward, pressing Meta to the edge of the curb. Cars and trucks roared through the intersection far too close, whipping the air, increasing her trepidation. A bus in the curbside lane barreled toward the intersection. Meta tried to step back, but a big hand on her back stopped her retreat and shoved her into the street. She flailed her arms, but her clawing fists failed to grab anything but empty air…
***
Check out COWBOY LIES. ISBN#978-1-935348-05-4
(Book I of the Ryan Ranch Trilogy) See below.

Setting SOUTH TEXAS Available in print and E-book format
Four-Star Review from Romantic Times Book Reviews
Four Angel Review from Fallen Angel Reviews
Also available: book #2 Lasso That Cowboy and book # three, Undercover Cowboy.
Excerpt,COWBOY LIES-LYNDE LAKES (Book I of a Trilogy)
Terrifying memory flashes of blood-splattered walls and an empty crib warns Molly to trust no one. Especially not this hot cowboy. Molly stared at the Stetson-wearing hunk of testosterone pacing next to the fireplace, and shook her head. "I don't like this. Nothing seems right!"

The possibility that she'd ever loved this man, let alone married him, was as remote as finding the proverbial needle in a haystack, yet it was exactly what he wanted her to believe.

"You’re gonna have to trust me on this one, Molly," he drawled and headed out of the room.

She followed him down the hallway, running to keep up. "Not so fast, cowboy. What did
you say your name was again?" He'd already told her, but she wanted to keep him talking while she figured things out.

He entered a nursery and stopped by the crib. A big, smile spread over his face. He was drop-dead handsome. Tall and lean. With a body custom built to wear those hip-hugging faded blue denim jeans. So what had he done in the past that just looking at him gave her the urge to pound his impressive chest?
***
Excerpt, LASSO THAT COWBOY Book II Ryan Ranch Trilogy
ISBN978-1-93-5348-32-0
Amber rubbed her throbbing head and fought a wave of dizziness. Running away felt like a bad choice to start a new life. But waking up next to a lifeless, bloody body told her that if she’d stayed in San Antonio, sooner or later, she’d be jailed or worse yet…dead.

Elmer, the trucker she’d hitched a ride with, pulled his flatbed semi into the center of a complex of ranch buildings. “This is as far as Betsy can go to make an easy wide turn,” he said in his thick Texas drawl.

He had the fierce look of an albino gorilla, but Amber had learned in their hours riding together that he had the heart of a teddy bear. Elmer hauled lumber and fencing supplies into the Bar R cattle ranch, and she’d lucked out getting a ride with him from San Antonio to this nowhereland about a hundred miles north of the Mexico border. She had ignored the no riders sign painted on his door and told him she was broke and needed a lift to get a job. Elmer sized her up and gestured for her to get into the cab. She’d felt comfortable with him from the moment she settled into the passenger seat. The pictures of his wife and two teenage daughters tucked into the visor over his head suggested he was a family man, and the gentleness in his voice when he talked about them warmed her heart.

“You gonna be all right?” he asked.

Amber nodded. The dizziness had passed. Now she felt empty, lost. The activity behind the roar of ranch machinery and grange trucks should’ve made her feel not quite so alone. But she was alone. Totally alone. She had no ID in her wallet, no pictures of loved ones. A woman with no past. She’d better get used to it.

She sighed, grabbed her suitcase and slid from the cab. Elmer moved his truck ahead. He circled slowly until the driver’s side of his polished black cab came parallel with her.

“If this job falls through,” he said, shouting over the idling engine, “be out by the dirt road in front of the bunk house at 5:00 A.M. sharp. I won’t wait!”

The June sky was light blue, cloudless. Amber shaded her aching eyes from the blinding morning sun and looked up at him. The upward tilt of her head sent pain shooting up the column of her neck into the base of her skull. “You know something about this place that I don’t?” They were both yelling over the head-splitting engine noise now.

“It’s just that…if Luke Ryan’s gonna be your boss, you maybe oughta git your pay up front.”

Oh great. Her prospective employer might be a deadbeat. “Thanks for the tip, Elmer.”

Too bad she hadn’t heard that discouraging news before coming all this way with a mere three bucks in her wallet. Since she didn’t have all that many options, she wouldn’t count bossman Ryan out completely. She would make her own evaluation of the man.

To the right, an impressive Spanish villa stood off by itself on a small knoll. They had passed other large homes on the property along the long dusty lane from the main road. Elmer said they housed top ranch people. This classy piece of real estate must belong to the big kingpin. “Is that Luke Ryan’s place?” she asked. “I hope, I hope.”

“Naw. He has a place up that dirt road out beyond the Big House. Never seen it, but I don’t think it’s much.”

Please, let it have indoor plumbing at the very least. “I thought Luke was the owner of this ranch.”

“May have an interest. Spread used to belong to Gavin Ryan, but for the last five years I’ve been dealin’ with his son, Matt.”

The job sounded worse by the minute. Amber fanned herself with her straw hat. The temperature was inching up fast. The brightness of the day gilded the surrounding barns and sheds with a golden hue. A job at the Bar R might not be a golden opportunity, but it was better than losing her life.

She blew upward at a wayward wisp of hair. “Thanks for the info, Elmer, and the ride.”

Elmer took a long drag from his cigarette then flicked the butt out the window with stubby nicotine-stained fingers. He rested his hairy, muscled arm on the window frame. “If you miss my pull out in the mornin’, I won’t be back for two weeks.”

She laughed. “You’re not the only ride heading out of here, friend.”

“Maybe the only one you can trust. Be careful, Amber girl. Knowin’ most of the other road jockeys comin’ in and out of this ranch like I do, I’d say you best wait for me to git yourself outta here.”

Amber thought of the loaded .38 in the purse hanging from a thin strap over her shoulder. Elmer had a point, she’d hate to shoot a guy for a little knee grabbing. “Where do you think I should look for this Luke Ryan fellow?”

“Try the office in the barn. Someone there should be able to find him for you.”

Elmer saluted and pulled away. A cloud of black diesel smoke curled from the exhaust pipe behind the cab. She sighed. Even after the truck turned down the side road and disappeared, Amber continued to stare. For miles there was only low rolling land, sowed with scrub oak, mesquite, and cactus, and in the far distance, a haze of rocky, purple mountains. The land was more severe than she’d expected—barren, even hostile. She had wanted a job in a remote place, and this location was about as remote as any she could’ve imagined.

Amber fought her fight-or-flight feeling and the paranoia that came from running. She shivered as the sense of isolation registered in a crushing blow. Taking a deep breath, she picked up her suitcase. She had to make this work.

Two dogs, a black mongrel and an Australian Shepherd with tan and white markings, came running toward her, barking. “Big bark, no bite, I hope?” she asked, crossing her fingers. They wagged their tails and trailed behind her. After a couple of dozen steps, a whistle sounded and they took off to answer the call.

“Fickle,” she said.

A smiling ranch hand came toward her. He was wiry, bowlegged and although as brown as tanned leather, he wasn’t Latino like most of the vaqueros who worked on South Texas ranches. “Lost, little lady?” he asked.

If only he knew how lost. She fought her instinctive fear of strangers. “I was told I might find Luke Ryan in the barn office.”

“You might,” he drawled. “Good a place as any. Follow me. I’m Pete.”

“Amber,” she said.

When they reached the barn, Amber saw that most of the thirty or more stalls stood empty. Sunshine streamed through the high windows. The snort of a horse echoed through the wood structure. Somewhere at the other end of the barn, a radio was tuned to a Mexican station playing a Texas-Mexican quickstep.

Pete led her to an office in the middle of the barn. “Here, we are,” he said.

A name plate on the desk read Matt Ryan in bold letters. “I’m looking for Luke Ryan.”
Pete poured the dregs of coffee from a glass decanter into a mug and handed it to her. “I’ll git Luke for you.” He pointed to a chair. “Take a load off your feet.”

Amber sat down and took a sip of the coffee. She frowned at the bitterness and pushed it away. She’d rather have a cold glass of water and an aspirin. She drummed her fingers on the desk, then opened her purse and withdrew the help wanted ad for a nanny she’d clipped from the day-before-yesterday’s newspaper. She’d stapled the ad to the sheet of notes from her telephone conversation with her prospective boss. She smoothed the wrinkles from the paper. Mr. Ryan had said to get here as soon as possible for an interview. She had grabbed her already-packed bag and took a bus to the truck stop at the edge of town. Luck was on her side. When she hitched a ride with the first truck heading south, it was Elmer and he was coming straight to the Bar R. No one could have gotten here faster.

Amber extracted a small mirror from her purse. Using a mini brush, she gave her hair a few strokes. Then she smeared on some apricot mist lipstick and smudged a little onto her cheeks. God, she still looked awful. What she needed was a complete makeover. Oh, well, she wasn’t applying for an office or modeling job. She just needed to look presentable—and reliable.

With no credentials to back her up, she had to rely on her wits. She got up and paced, rubbing her arms. Had she made a mistake coming here? No, it would be all right. What better place to hide?

Outside the door near the stalls, a young couple was arguing. Amber pressed herself close to the door frame and listened. With a razor sharp tongue, the girl was dressing-down the guy about flirting with some gal at a rodeo in Reno. Amber moved closer where she could see them, but they couldn’t see her. Maybe she’d hear something to help her ace this interview.

The young man had a thick rope of black hair hanging down his back. He was about nineteen, tall, lean and had a wild, brooding look. The girl, poured into Levi’s and a halter top, was about the same age, maybe a little younger. The way she tossed that sexy mane of blonde hair and thrust her breasts about suggested she was used to using her physical attributes to her advantage.

“Y’all know two can play the flirting game, Roberto.” The girl’s tone twanged with the threat.

“What are you talking about, Suzy?” Roberto eyes flashed, reminding Amber of an Indian brave about to go on the warpath.

Suzy smiled sweetly. “Mando’s here. He drove in a couple of hours ago.”

“Mando showing up is bound to cause trouble on the ranch. He’s bad news for Luke. He and Mando were two-fisted drinking buddies when they rode the circuit together. Luke won’t be able to stay sober with him around. A hundred bucks sez Luke’ll hit the bottle within the week.”

Suzy lifted her chin. “I’ll take that bet. He didn’t topple when Connie Lou died. No ol’ drinking buddy will send him over the edge.”

“Hate to take money from an innocent young thing.” Roberto grinned. “Oh, that’s right, there’s nothing innocent about you.”

Suzy gave him a shove. “Ridin’ the rodeo circuit’s ruined your manners. Maybe when I win that C note from you, it’ll prove you’re not such a hotshot after all.”

He laughed. “Last chance to back out. I’ll give you fair warning, Luke’s been hanging on by a thread.”

Amber groaned to herself and moved back into the office. She plunked down in a
chair and rubbed her aching head. What next? Her prospective employer had a drinking problem. This wasn’t going to work. She got to her feet and headed out of the barn.

She’d only taken a few steps when a lasso came from the front and flipped over her head, knocking off her straw hat and closing tight around her arms. She dropped her suitcase. The latch broke, and her clothes spilled out into the dirt next to her hat.

“What the devil?” she screeched, fighting the taut rope and fear.

Three men blocked her path: Pete, the ranch hand who had taken her to the office and given her the bitter, simmered-to-death coffee and a vaquero who looked like Poncho Villa. She zeroed in on the third cowboy smirking at the end of the rope. He was tall and lean with a body sculptured to wear those hip-hugging denim Levi’s. He had coal black hair and, in spite of a faint zigzagging scar on his cheek just below his eye that made him look as dangerous as hell. Still, she determined she wasn’t in any real danger. At least not if you discounted that something about him made her heart race like a floor-boarded engine.

“Well, lookie here,” the cowboy said. “I’ll be damned if I didn’t lasso myself a cute li’l’ heifer.”

Under his black Stetson tipped high on his forehead, the cowboy’s angular face twisted with a cocky, bad boy smile. He was in his mid-twenties with a demeanor that screamed strength and reckless arrogance. The flicker of boyishness in his eyes confirmed his intention to have a good time at her expense while showing off for his buddies. Her head throbbed. She didn’t need this. “Look, rude dude, don’t call me a cow. And get your blasted rope off me.”
****
Excerpt, UNDERCOVER COWBOY (Book III Ryan Ranch Trilogy)
ISBN: 978-1-93-5348-70-2
“Twenty and restricted to the compound!” Sara Jane Ryan shouted to her horse. “Can you believe it? Well, I’ll show Dad.” She dug her heels a little too firmly into the coal-black quarter-horse’s flanks. He sidestepped and tossed his head in protest. She stroked his silky mane. “Sorry, Demon, but Dad makes me see red—barn on-fire-red!” She blew at a wayward tendril of curly auburn hair in utter frustration.

Her ride had taken her to the west sector of the Ryan’s south Texas ranch where tangles of mesquite trees, scrub oak, and cactus lined the well-beaten path. Since Verde Creek was on her way to her client’s ranch, she decided to stop for a swim to cool off both her temper and body. A shiver slid through her—this was exactly the kind of isolated area Dad had warned her against.

She shook off her uneasiness. He wasn’t making her paranoid too. For years she’d stuck to his overprotective rules, but no more. If she let him get away with treating her like a child how could she respect herself, or expect him to respect her as an adult? In the distance, she heard a high-pitched whinny. She wrinkled her forehead. Who’d be so far out in the boondocks this time of the day? She shaded her eyes from the searing midmorning sun and squinted, looking for a rider’s silhouette or rising gusts of dust. Seeing neither in any direction, she decided that the whinny must have been from a stray from the small wild herd of mustangs that roamed these parts. It comforted her to see miles of gently rolling land and the distant purple haze where mountains reached up to meet a cloudless blue sky. In her view, God had never made anything more starkly beautiful.

Her sense of serenity faded as shadows of turkey buzzards circling overheard fell across her path. She looked up and shuddered. As useful as the buzzards were, they’d always repulsed her. She was too far out to be concerned that it might be a downed cow; apparently the scavengers had zeroed in on some other unlucky critter. Suddenly Demon rose and beat the air with his front hooves. Sara clamped her knees tight and gripped the saddle horn. “Easy, boy.” Likely the buzzards had made him nervous too.

A loud caw cut the air. She jumped and glanced into the trees. Carrion birds waited all humped over, eyes beady and hungry. Several expanded their wings and flew to the ground to close in on something. The smell of decaying flesh hit her nostrils before she saw the body of a woman lying face down in the overgrowth of mesquite.

Her skin prickled. “Whoa, boy.” Sara Jane dismounted fast and dropped her reins to the ground knowing Demon would stay. She remembered the whinny and wondered if the woman had been thrown, and her horse had run off. Waving her arms to shoo away the birds, Sara Jane approached the body slowly, then froze in her tracks. Her eyes widened and a chill shot through her. From the back the woman looked just like her, same long auburn hair and slender athletic build. One arm was up over her head. Sara Jane spied an Indian bracelet with three turquoise stones identical to the one her dad had designed and had special made for her thirteenth birthday. A week ago, the treasured gift had disappeared from her jewelry box. Sara Jane rubbed her arms. This was way too creepy. She felt like grabbing the bracelet and leaping back on her horse and hightailing it out of there. Fighting the urge, she bent and turned the woman over.

The face was gone! Sara Jane screamed, jumped back and scrambled to her feet. She pressed her lips tight, to hold back the bile that burned in her throat. Through a haze of shock it registered—the face was cut clean away with no ragged edges. No animal had done that. She glanced around, suddenly feeling alone and vulnerable.

She had to get out of there—now! But she couldn’t seem to move.
Struggling with fear and trembling, Sara Jane didn’t hear the horse come through the grove of mesquite behind her. At the sound of a man’s succinct oath, she whirled. The guy, in his late twenties, dismounted in one fluid motion. His legs were long, powerful looking. Jeans hugged him like a sheath. With cactus-green eyes flashing, he strode toward her, muscular and dangerous looking.

Standing as tall as her five feet, six inches would allow, she glared at him and raised an eyebrow. “Did you do this? Are you a killer drawn by that strong urge to return to the scene of the crime?” She fought to keep the waver out of her voice.

“What? God, no!” he said.

Unconvinced, she slowly backed toward her horse and the saddle bag where she kept her .38.

In a lower tone, no doubt meant to calm her into a false sense of security, he added, “I heard you scream.” His accent wasn’t Texan; that was for sure. “Don’t be afraid, Miss.” He didn’t say Ma’am, like a wrangler would.

His black jeans and western shirt were new, unfaded. He shifted his weight, and she noticed the holstered gun at his side for the first time. The weapon and square-shouldered stance of this gun-toting stranger sent another shiver through her. He raked his inky hair with long fingers made for computer keys or a gun trigger, not ranch work.

“Stay back!” she ordered, still moving away. Hot wind blew her hair about her face and lashed her body with unnerving electricity. The call of a distant hawk emphasized the isolation—and how very alone she was with this armed stranger.

He advanced a step closer. “Take it easy. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Expect me to believe that?” Sensing she was close to Demon, she whirled, reached into her saddle bag and drew her gun. “Don’t even twitch,” she said, aiming her .38 at a point between the man’s eyes. His expression darkened—he stopped dead in his tracks. Uncle Luke had always told her when in a tough spot, narrow your eyes, bare your teeth, and bluff. If that didn’t work—shoot the bastard. To save a family member she could pull the trigger, but to save her own life...? She prayed the urban cowboy wouldn’t test her. She wanted to tell him to drop his holstered gun but feared he might try something tricky and force her hand.

Sweat beaded on his forehead. But his steady gaze showed no fear. “You’ve got it wrong. I’m here to help.”

“Mighty nice of you, stranger,” she said, exaggerating her Texas drawl. “Don’t think I’m ungrateful, but I don’t need your help.” She leveled her narrowed gaze on him, gesturing with a slight tilt of her head at the body. “And it’s too damned late to help her.”

He pushed his black Stetson high on his forehead. His eyes softened marginally. “Tough girl, huh?” The huskiness in his voice vibrated through her.

“You’ve got that right,” she said, glaring at him. “You have the count of three to climb back on that sorry-looking mare and hightail it out of here. One...”

He shifted his weight on dusty, black leather boots that looked as new as his duds. He showed no sign of leaving. An amused, reckless expression flicked over his face. “Who the devil are you anyway?”

“I should be asking you that, except I don’t give a hoot.” Her throat felt raw. “Now git!” To her embarrassment, her voice cracked. She cocked her gun and resumed her countdown. “Two...”
His jaw tightened. Raw sexuality and defiance radiated from the hard planes of his face and the lean lines of his body, charging the air between them. Her gun hand trembled. Fear jelled into a cold lump in her stomach. “Three...” She whirled around and swung onto her horse. As she passed his mare, she slapped the animal on the rump and yelled, “Ha!” The roan took off.
The urban cowboy’s eyes widened and he shouted, “Hey!”
****
Hope you enjoyed the excerpts. Oh, Yes, If I may, please let me share my news: I have gone to contract on more romantic suspense novels: MURDER IN THE CLEAR ZONE with Evernight Publisher which was released on DECEMBER 21, 2011. POINTING LEAF With a January release, SILENT CYMBALS, a February release, PRIMITIVE FLAME a March release, and STAR FALLEN LOVER an April release. Also, BILLBOARD COP with Wildrose Press with an undefinite release date. For more news sign up for my blog or visit me on FACEBOOK. Let me hear from you. Aloha, Lynde Lakes. www.lyndelakes.com

EXERPTS & NEWS 12-11-2013

2011-12-13T15:11:00-05:00

Happy HOLIDAYS MY DEAR FRIENDS!! Visit Lynde at Face Book or www.lynde.com
I just went to contract on the following books:
BILLBOARD COP @ Wild Rose Press
MURDER IN THE CLEAR ZONE @ EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING & due to be released December 21, 2011 (in a few days.)
POINTING LEAF @ EVERNIGHT pUBLISHING
SILENT CYMBALS @ EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING.
NOW FOR THE EXCERPTS!!!

? Today, I’m sharing excerpts tangled with romance, intrigue and page-turning action. See excerpt of COWBOY LIES for sure. Check-out the following Amira Press Books. Excerpts follow the blurbs.

12/13/2011 Check out AMIRA PRESS for new release!
VIRGIN WOLF II, MELLIZO WOLVES. DOUBLE THE PASSION DOUBLE THE DANGER. ISBN: 978-1-936279-1
By Lynde Lakes

Victoria wondered if Rick knew she was a werewolf, would he still calmly sit there on his Harley Road King, revving his motor. And would he still insist that she climb nude onto his bike and wrap her chilled flesh around his hot bod?

Rick never imagined that being a knight on a shiny Harley with a natural tendency to help anyone in distress would turn his life upside down, make him believe the unbelievable, all while fighting a fiery desire that, in spite of the gorgeous she-wolf constantly thrusting herself at him, he must repeatedly reject—in spite of the fact that her passion is like none he’d ever even dared to dream of. When lust turns to love, the balance tips, but will his Indian sense of honor and his promise to her father keep them apart? Or can he play the waiting game and have it all? He fears with all that burning passion and raging hormones she might not wait. He was taking a big chance...

Angela, now a protective mother, trembled. If she accepted the wily psychic’s prophesy, her fear wasn’t merely the haunting dregs from the past, but a new and more indestructible evil.

Excerpt: Afternoon darkness wrapped a malevolent mist around the towers of the historic mansion nestled below Mt. Baldy. Angela Ward-Lamont had barely stepped into the foyer and heard the latch click before the December storm broke. Thunder echoed around her and reverberated through the drafty rooms, sending tremors through her. She looked around the unsettling sanctuary she now shared with her new husband, Damon. Another tremor slid down her back as an icy essence drifted over her. She felt like Little Red Riding Hood who, after escaping a fierce storm, found herself in the wolf’s den. Yet, more frightening than her daunting surroundings were the Lamont family’s undying secrets. What if within this mansion, with its soaring towers, there were dark, undiscovered rooms and twisting tunnels? The prickling hairs at the back of her neck warned that lurking within the darkness behind the walls were dusty dregs of evil. Although Reeves was dead and his ashes scattered behind the mansion, she had an eerie sense of his presence. A log shifted in the fireplace. She jumped and looked around, expecting someone or something to be there, but she was alone. A shadow shifted…

Note: VIRGIN WOLF III. VW III Is be reviewed by publisher. It investigates the turmoil and chilling danger when too many lusting werewolves get into the action.
Especially when the evil one wants bloody revenge.

VIRGIN WOLF I. Happy reading!
ISBN: 978-1-936279-41-8 Available in Print & E-book format. VIRGIN WOLF I—Mt. Baldy, California. Angela Ward, a Gemini virgin, hates controlling men, especially in their wolfish form. When she meets the gorgeous Alpha werewolf Damon Lamont III, she fights falling under his spell. Her equally controlling wolf-counterpart, however, sees this handsome Alpha’s attempt at control and fiery passion as a delicious challenge, forcing Angela to make an exception. Angela knows she’s courting danger by falling prey to her feral desires with a man who may be the hairy beast tearing out the throats of innocent young women in her community.

VIRGIN WOLF I By Lynde Lakes (Book I of a trilogy)

Excerpt, VIRGIN WOLF--The outside stormy weather’s was like sandpaper on Angela Ward’s nerves. Usually adept at keeping her emotions in check, she paced the bedroom, lit only by dim, shadow-inducing evening lamplight, and fought the edginess that gripped her. Was more bad news brewing in the storm? She paused at the window and stared out through the pelting raindrops toward the imposing mansion nestled below Mt. Baldy. Although she saw little more than a foggy grayness and a hint of a hazy light, its fascination had never been stronger than now. A clap of thunder broke nearby. She shivered and rubbed her arms as a bolt of lightning arced and illuminated the stone fortress and its magnificent towers. She suspected that those towers, soaring skyward, contributed heavily to the eerie
quality that provided the locals with a vivid, intriguing mysterious citadel to stir
their wild conjectures.

Few, if any, had ever seen the original owner or his grandson, but longtime community residents claimed both were quite mad. Some speculated that the grandson had killed a sister and the grandfather and now lived there alone with a gimpy, hunchback servant. In her youth, Angela had fanned the flames among her friends with her ghost stories about the evil-looking place and its enigmatic occupants. Although strangely drawn to the place, she had never ventured up there. Folks in the rumor-mill claimed that those who did vanished.
***
Please don’t forget DEADLY INFLUENCE set in Redlands, California. Print & E-book. E-book ISBN 978-1-936-279-05-0
Print Book ISBN 978-1-936-279-06-7

Sparks fly when Air Force Intelligence Lieutenant Jay Corning, is tackled by Lisa Dixson, the female version of “The Bodyguard.” As they spar, the escalating danger closes in from the dark corners of the small community, stirring fears & steamy emotions.

Excerpt, DEADLY INFLUENCE
By LYNDE LAKES
PROLOGUE
California. The leisurely lunch and shopping trip to Los Angeles with her nephew’s wife, Shirley, had failed to ward off Meta Corning’s uneasiness about the frightening after midnight phone calls. The eighty-year-old matriarch of the Corning Estate clung tighter to Shirley’s arm as they approached the crowded Broadway crosswalk. When the pedestrian sign clicked to halt, Shirley pulled away and dug in her purse for something. Meta shivered at the loss of contact. Last night the caller had said, “Death would come swiftly.”

Meta closed her eyes, searching for a calm place. Although Shirley’s carefree mood all afternoon had kept her from dwelling on those words, now they plagued her. She forced them away—think only of Shirley, she told herself. Shirley was always more fun when away from the stress of being a wife and mother—and away from her husband, Tyrant Tom.

People closed in around Meta, separating her from Shirley. “Shirley,” Meta called, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. She glanced back. The barricade of people—all heads taller than she—looked at down at her with stern, impatient expressions. Shirley was nowhere in sight. The crowd inched forward, pressing Meta to the edge of the curb. Cars and trucks roared through the intersection far too close, whipping the air, increasing her trepidation. A bus in the curbside lane barreled toward the intersection. Meta tried to step back, but a big hand on her back stopped her retreat and shoved her into the street. She flailed her arms, but her clawing fists failed to grab anything but empty air…
*

And be sure to check out COWBOY LIES. ISBN#978-1-935348-05-4
(Book I of the Ryan Ranch Trilogy) See below.

Setting SOUTH TEXAS Available in print and E-book format
Four-Star Review from Romantic Times Book Reviews
Four Angel Review from Fallen Angel Reviews
Also available: book #2 Lasso That Cowboy and book # three, Undercover Cowboy.
Excerpt,COWBOY LIES-LYNDE LAKES (Book I of a Trilogy)
Terrifying memory flashes of blood-splattered walls and an empty crib warns Molly to trust no one. Especially not this hot cowboy. Molly stared at the Stetson-wearing hunk of testosterone pacing next to the fireplace, and shook her head. "I don't like this. Nothing seems right!"

The possibility that she'd ever loved this man, let alone married him, was as remote as finding the proverbial needle in a haystack, yet it was exactly what he wanted her to believe.

"You’re gonna have to trust me on this one, Molly," he drawled and headed out of the room.

She followed him down the hallway, running to keep up. "Not so fast, cowboy. What did
you say your name was again?" He'd already told her, but she wanted to keep him talking while she figured things out.

He entered a nursery and stopped by the crib. A big, smile spread over his face. He was drop-dead handsome. Tall and lean. With a body custom built to wear those hip-hugging faded blue denim jeans. So what had he done in the past that just looking at him gave her the urge to pound his impressive chest?
***
Excerpt, LASSO THAT COWBOY Book II Ryan Ranch Trilogy
ISBN978-1-93-5348-32-0
Amber rubbed her throbbing head and fought a wave of dizziness. Running away felt like a bad choice to start a new life. But waking up next to a lifeless, bloody body told her that if she’d stayed in San Antonio, sooner or later, she’d be jailed or worse yet…dead.

Elmer, the trucker she’d hitched a ride with, pulled his flatbed semi into the center
of a complex of ranch buildings. “This is as far as Betsy can go to make an easy wide turn,” he said in his thick Texas drawl.

He had the fierce look of an albino gorilla, but Amber had learned in their hours riding together that he had the heart of a teddy bear. Elmer hauled lumber and fencing supplies into the Bar R cattle ranch, and she’d lucked out getting a ride with him from San Antonio to this nowhereland about a hundred miles north of the Mexico border. She had ignored the no riders sign painted on his door and told him she was broke and needed a lift to get a job. Elmer sized her up and gestured for her to get into the cab. She’d felt comfortable with him from the moment she settled into the passenger seat. The pictures of his wife and two teenage daughters tucked into the visor over his head suggested he was a family man, and the gentleness in his voice when he talked about them warmed her heart.

“You gonna be all right?” he asked.

Amber nodded. The dizziness had passed. Now she felt empty, lost. The activity behind the roar of ranch machinery and grange trucks should’ve made her feel not quite so alone. But she was alone. Totally alone. She had no ID in her wallet, no pictures of loved ones. A woman with no past. She’d better get used to it.

She sighed, grabbed her suitcase and slid from the cab. Elmer moved his truck ahead. He circled slowly until the driver’s side of his polished black cab came parallel with her.

“If this job falls through,” he said, shouting over the idling engine, “be out by the dirt road in front of the bunk house at 5:00 A.M. sharp. I won’t wait!”

The June sky was light blue, cloudless. Amber shaded her aching eyes from the blinding morning sun and looked up at him. The upward tilt of her head sent pain shooting up the column of her neck into the base of her skull. “You know something about this place that I don’t?” They were both yelling over the head-splitting engine noise now.

“It’s just that…if Luke Ryan’s gonna be your boss, you maybe oughta git your pay up front.”

Oh great. Her prospective employer might be a deadbeat. “Thanks for the tip, Elmer.”

Too bad she hadn’t heard that discouraging news before coming all this way with a mere three bucks in her wallet. Since she didn’t have all that many options, she wouldn’t count bossman Ryan out completely. She would make her own evaluation of the man.

To the right, an impressive Spanish villa stood off by itself on a small knoll. They had passed other large homes on the property along the long dusty lane from the main road. Elmer said they housed top ranch people. This classy piece of real estate must belong to the big kingpin. “Is that Luke Ryan’s place?” she asked. “I hope, I hope.”

“Naw. He has a place up that dirt road out beyond the Big House. Never seen it, but I don’t think it’s much.”

Please, let it have indoor plumbing at the very least. “I thought Luke was the owner of this ranch.”

“May have an interest. Spread used to belong to Gavin Ryan, but for the last five years I’ve been dealin’ with his son, Matt.”

The job sounded worse by the minute. Amber fanned herself with her straw hat. The temperature was inching up fast. The brightness of the day gilded the surrounding barns and sheds with a golden hue. A job at the Bar R might not be a golden opportunity, but it was better than losing her life.

She blew upward at a wayward wisp of hair. “Thanks for the info, Elmer, and the ride.”

Elmer took a long drag from his cigarette then flicked the butt out the window with stubby nicotine-stained fingers. He rested his hairy, muscled arm on the window frame. “If you miss my pull out in the mornin’, I won’t be back for two weeks.”

She laughed. “You’re not the only ride heading out of here, friend.”

“Maybe the only one you can trust. Be careful, Amber girl. Knowin’ most of the other road jockeys comin’ in and out of this ranch like I do, I’d say you best wait for me to git yourself outta here.”

Amber thought of the loaded .38 in the purse hanging from a thin strap over her shoulder. Elmer had a point, she’d hate to shoot a guy for a little knee grabbing. “Where do you think I should look for this Luke Ryan fellow?”

“Try the office in the barn. Someone there should be able to find him for you.”

Elmer saluted and pulled away. A cloud of black diesel smoke curled from the exhaust pipe behind the cab. She sighed. Even after the truck turned down the side road and disappeared, Amber continued to stare. For miles there was only low rolling land, sowed with scrub oak, mesquite, and cactus, and in the far distance, a haze of rocky, purple mountains. The land was more severe than she’d expected—barren, even hostile. She had wanted a job in a remote place, and this location was about as remote as any she could’ve imagined.

Amber fought her fight-or-flight feeling and the paranoia that came from running.
She shivered as the sense of isolation registered in a crushing blow. Taking a deep breath, she picked up her suitcase. She had to make this work.

Two dogs, a black mongrel and an Australian Shepherd with tan and white markings, came running toward her, barking. “Big bark, no bite, I hope?” she asked, crossing her fingers. They wagged their tails and trailed behind her. After a couple of dozen steps, a whistle sounded and they took off to answer the call.

“Fickle,” she said.

A smiling ranch hand came toward her. He was wiry, bowlegged and although as brown as tanned leather, he wasn’t Latino like most of the vaqueros who worked on South Texas ranches. “Lost, little lady?” he asked.

If only he knew how lost. She fought her instinctive fear of strangers. “I was told I might find Luke Ryan in the barn office.”

“You might,” he drawled. “Good a place as any. Follow me. I’m Pete.”

“Amber,” she said.

When they reached the barn, Amber saw that most of the thirty or more stalls stood empty. Sunshine streamed through the high windows. The snort of a horse echoed through the wood structure. Somewhere at the other end of the barn, a radio was tuned to a Mexican station playing a Texas-Mexican quickstep.

Pete led her to an office in the middle of the barn. “Here, we are,” he said.

A name plate on the desk read Matt Ryan in bold letters. “I’m looking for Luke Ryan.”
Pete poured the dregs of coffee from a glass decanter into a mug and handed it to her. “I’ll git Luke for you.” He pointed to a chair. “Take a load off your feet.”

Amber sat down and took a sip of the coffee. She frowned at the bitterness and pushed it away. She’d rather have a cold glass of water and an aspirin. She drummed her fingers on the desk, then opened her purse and withdrew the help wanted ad for a nanny she’d clipped from the day-before-yesterday’s newspaper. She’d stapled the ad to the sheet of notes from her telephone conversation with her prospective boss. She smoothed the wrinkles from the paper. Mr. Ryan had said to get here as soon as possible for an interview. She had grabbed her already-packed bag and took a bus to the truck stop at the edge of town. Luck was on her side. When she hitched a ride with the first truck heading south, it was Elmer and he was coming straight to the Bar R. No one could have gotten here faster.

Amber extracted a small mirror from her purse. Using a mini brush, she gave her hair a few strokes. Then she smeared on some apricot mist lipstick and smudged a little onto her cheeks. God, she still looked awful. What she needed was a complete makeover. Oh, well, she wasn’t applying for an office or modeling job. She just needed to look presentable—and reliable.

With no credentials to back her up, she had to rely on her wits. She got up and
paced, rubbing her arms. Had she made a mistake coming here? No, it would be all right. What better place to hide?

Outside the door near the stalls, a young couple was arguing. Amber pressed herself close to the door frame and listened. With a razor sharp tongue, the girl was dressing-down the guy about flirting with some gal at a rodeo in Reno. Amber moved closer where she could see them, but they couldn’t see her. Maybe she’d hear something to help her ace this interview.

The young man had a thick rope of black hair hanging down his back. He was
about nineteen, tall, lean and had a wild, brooding look. The girl, poured into Levi’s and a halter top, was about the same age, maybe a little younger. The way she tossed that sexy mane of blonde hair and thrust her breasts about suggested she was used to using her physical attributes to her advantage.

“Y’all know two can play the flirting game, Roberto.” The girl’s tone twanged with the threat.

“What are you talking about, Suzy?” Roberto eyes flashed, reminding Amber of an Indian brave about to go on the warpath.

Suzy smiled sweetly. “Mando’s here. He drove in a couple of hours ago.”

“Mando showing up is bound to cause trouble on the ranch. He’s bad news for Luke. He and Mando were two-fisted drinking buddies when they rode the circuit together. Luke won’t be able to stay sober with him around. A hundred bucks sez Luke’ll hit the bottle within the week.”

Suzy lifted her chin. “I’ll take that bet. He didn’t topple when Connie Lou died. No ol’ drinking buddy will send him over the edge.”

“Hate to take money from an innocent young thing.” Roberto grinned. “Oh, that’s right, there’s nothing innocent about you.”

Suzy gave him a shove. “Ridin’ the rodeo circuit’s ruined your manners. Maybe when I win that C note from you, it’ll prove you’re not such a hotshot after all.”

He laughed. “Last chance to back out. I’ll give you fair warning, Luke’s been hanging on by a thread.”

Amber groaned to herself and moved back into the office. She plunked down in a
chair and rubbed her aching head. What next? Her prospective employer had a drinking problem. This wasn’t going to work. She got to her feet and headed out of the barn.

She’d only taken a few steps when a lasso came from the front and flipped over her head, knocking off her straw hat and closing tight around her arms. She dropped her suitcase. The latch broke, and her clothes spilled out into the dirt next to her hat.

“What the devil?” she screeched, fighting the taut rope and fear.

Three men blocked her path: Pete, the ranch hand who had taken her to the office and given her the bitter, simmered-to-death coffee and a vaquero who looked like Poncho Villa. She zeroed in on the third cowboy smirking at the end of the rope. He was tall and lean with a body sculptured to wear those hip-hugging denim Levi’s. He had coal black hair and, in spite of a faint zigzagging scar on his cheek just below his eye that made him look as dangerous as hell. Still, she determined she wasn’t in any real danger. At least not if you discounted that something about him made her heart race like a floor-boarded engine.

“Well, lookie here,” the cowboy said. “I’ll be damned if I didn’t lasso myself a cute li’l’ heifer.”

Under his black Stetson tipped high on his forehead, the cowboy’s angular face twisted with a cocky, bad boy smile. He was in his mid-twenties with a demeanor that screamed strength and reckless arrogance. The flicker of boyishness in his eyes confirmed his intention to have a good time at her expense while showing off for his buddies. Her head throbbed. She didn’t need this. “Look, rude dude, don’t call me a cow. And get your blasted rope off me.”
*
Excerpt, UNDERCOVER COWBOY (Book III Ryan Ranch Trilogy)
ISBN: 978-1-93-5348-70-2
“Twenty and restricted to the compound!” Sara Jane Ryan shouted to her horse. “Can you believe it? Well, I’ll show Dad.” She dug her heels a little too firmly into the coal-black quarter-horse’s flanks. He sidestepped and tossed his head in protest. She stroked his silky mane. “Sorry, Demon, but Dad makes me see red—barn on-fire-red!” She blew at a wayward tendril of curly auburn hair in utter frustration.

Her ride had taken her to the west sector of the Ryan’s south Texas ranch where tangles of mesquite trees, scrub oak, and cactus lined the well-beaten path. Since Verde Creek was on her way to her client’s ranch, she decided to stop for a swim to cool off both her temper and body. A shiver slid through her—this was exactly the kind of isolated area Dad had warned her against.

She shook off her uneasiness. He wasn’t making her paranoid too. For years she’d stuck to his overprotective rules, but no more. If she let him get away with treating her like a child how could she respect herself, or expect him to respect her as an adult? In the distance, she heard a high-pitched whinny. She wrinkled her forehead. Who’d be so far out in the boondocks this time of the day? She shaded her eyes from the searing midmorning sun and squinted, looking for a rider’s silhouette or rising gusts of dust. Seeing neither in any direction, she decided that the whinny must have been from a stray from the small wild herd of mustangs that roamed these parts. It comforted her to see miles of gently rolling land and the distant purple haze where mountains reached up to meet a cloudless blue sky. In her view, God had never made anything more starkly beautiful.

Her sense of serenity faded as shadows of turkey buzzards circling overheard fell across her path. She looked up and shuddered. As useful as the buzzards were, they’d always repulsed her. She was too far out to be concerned that it might be a downed cow; apparently the scavengers had zeroed in on some other unlucky critter. Suddenly Demon rose and beat the air with his front hooves. Sara clamped her knees tight and gripped the saddle horn. “Easy, boy.” Likely the buzzards had made him nervous too.

A loud caw cut the air. She jumped and glanced into the trees. Carrion birds waited all humped over, eyes beady and hungry. Several expanded their wings and flew to the ground to close in on something. The smell of decaying flesh hit her nostrils before she saw the body of a woman lying face down in the overgrowth of mesquite.

Her skin prickled. “Whoa, boy.” Sara Jane dismounted fast and dropped her reins to the ground knowing Demon would stay. She remembered the whinny and wondered if the woman had been thrown, and her horse had run off. Waving her arms to shoo away the birds, Sara Jane approached the body slowly, then froze in her tracks. Her eyes widened and a chill shot through her. From the back the woman looked just like her, same long auburn hair and slender athletic build. One arm was up over her head. Sara Jane spied an Indian bracelet with three turquoise stones identical to the one her dad had designed and had special made for her thirteenth birthday. A week ago, the treasured gift had disappeared from her jewelry box. Sara Jane rubbed her arms. This was way too creepy. She felt like grabbing the bracelet and leaping back on her horse and hightailing it out of there. Fighting the urge, she bent and turned the woman over.

The face was gone! Sara Jane screamed, jumped back and scrambled to her feet. She pressed her lips tight, to hold back the bile that burned in her throat. Through a haze of shock it registered—the face was cut clean away with no ragged edges. No animal had done that. She glanced around, suddenly feeling alone and vulnerable.

She had to get out of there—now! But she couldn’t seem to move.
Struggling with fear and trembling, Sara Jane didn’t hear the horse come through the grove of mesquite behind her. At the sound of a man’s succinct oath, she whirled. The guy, in his late twenties, dismounted in one fluid motion. His legs were long, powerful looking. Jeans hugged him like a sheath. With cactus-green eyes flashing, he strode toward her, muscular and dangerous looking.

Standing as tall as her five feet, six inches would allow, she glared at him and raised an eyebrow. “Did you do this? Are you a killer drawn by that strong urge to return to the scene of the crime?” She fought to keep the waver out of her voice.

“What? God, no!” he said.

Unconvinced, she slowly backed toward her horse and the saddle bag where she kept her .38.

In a lower tone, no doubt meant to calm her into a false sense of security, he added, “I heard you scream.” His accent wasn’t Texan; that was for sure. “Don’t be afraid, Miss.” He didn’t say Ma’am, like a wrangler would.

His black jeans and western shirt were new, unfaded. He shifted his weight, and she noticed the holstered gun at his side for the first time. The weapon and square-shouldered stance of this gun-toting stranger sent another shiver through her. He raked his inky hair with long fingers made for computer keys or a gun trigger, not ranch work.

“Stay back!” she ordered, still moving away. Hot wind blew her hair about her face and lashed her body with unnerving electricity. The call of a distant hawk emphasized the isolation—and how very alone she was with this armed stranger.

He advanced a step closer. “Take it easy. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Expect me to believe that?” Sensing she was close to Demon, she whirled, reached
into her saddle bag and drew her gun. “Don’t even twitch,” she said, aiming her .38 at a point between the man’s eyes. His expression darkened—he stopped dead in his tracks. Uncle Luke had always told her when in a tough spot, narrow your eyes, bare your teeth, and bluff. If that didn’t work—shoot the bastard. To save a family member she could pull the trigger, but to save her own life...? She prayed the urban cowboy wouldn’t test her. She wanted to tell him to drop his holstered gun but feared he might try something tricky and force her hand.

Sweat beaded on his forehead. But his steady gaze showed no fear. “You’ve got it wrong. I’m here to help.”

“Mighty nice of you, stranger,” she said, exaggerating her Texas drawl. “Don’t think I’m ungrateful, but I don’t need your help.” She leveled her narrowed gaze on him, gesturing with a slight tilt of her head at the body. “And it’s too damned late to help her.”

He pushed his black Stetson high on his forehead. His eyes softened marginally. “Tough girl, huh?” The huskiness in his voice vibrated through her.

“You’ve got that right,” she said, glaring at him. “You have the count of three to climb back on that sorry-looking mare and hightail it out of here. One...”

He shifted his weight on dusty, black leather boots that looked as new as his duds. He showed no sign of leaving. An amused, reckless expression flicked over his face. “Who the devil are you anyway?”

“I should be asking you that, except I don’t give a hoot.” Her throat felt raw. “Now git!” To her embarrassment, her voice cracked. She cocked her gun and resumed her countdown. “Two...”
His jaw tightened. Raw sexuality and defiance radiated from the hard planes of his face and the lean lines of his body, charging the air between them. Her gun hand trembled. Fear jelled into a cold lump in her stomach. “Three...” She whirled around and swung onto her horse. As she passed his mare, she slapped the animal on the rump and yelled, “Ha!” The roan took off.

The urban cowboy’s eyes widened and he shouted, “Hey!”
****
Hope you enjoyed the excerpts. lET ME HEAR FROM YOU. Maybe after the holidays??? Hugs, Lynde Lakes.

Blog News-January 2012 Releases

2011-11-12T19:13:00-05:00

MURDER IN THE CLEAR ZONE--Evernight Publishing.

Hot, Hard-bodied Relocation Agent Bard Nichols is merely tryng to do his job. But once he clashes with the fiery-haired Bird Lady, a mysterious young widow and orphan with a questionable past, he is irrevocably drawn into the deadliest skirmish of his life--a world of intrigue and undeniable steamy passion—a world of Janus-faced enemies. And now that his life in on the line, the Bird Lady seems to have switched sides, changed personalities and joined his rival.

BILLBOARD COP-Widerose Press

What if a homicide detective, who loathes reporters and values honesty, falls for an undercover reporter’s deception? And what if by the time he catches on, he’s already in love with her old fashioned image—as well as the gorgeous, conniving woman? Run like hell, right? That’s what any self-respecting guy would do. And what he planned–-until he learns she’s involved in his copycat Boston Strangler case and that–what she knows could kill her….

AFTER TYPING THE END

2011-08-18T22:22:00-05:00

After Typing “The End”

By Lynde Lakes

Start with careful “read through” of your hard copy with pen in hand. Break the manuscript down and evaluate its parts one at a time, using a fresh and critical eye.

First read--Examine structure. Does your first line and first scene sweep the reader into the story. Is every scene necessary? Exciting? Each scene must move the tale along, building progressively from beginning to the end. Eliminate any scenes, actions or information that could be eliminated or combined with out damaging continuity. This is the time to catch it. Check the action and pacing for a logical flow from scene to scene. Weed out awkward scene transitions or confusing flashbacks. Ground the time element and establish a consistent viewpoint. Lastly for this step, evaluate the conclusion for believability and make certain all loose ends are resolved.

Second read through is for character evaluation. Check each character for believability and motivation for actions. Review names, voices, grammar and knowledge suitable for the time and place of the story. Confirm viewpoints for consistency and voice. Aseure actions, words, habits, and abilities portray their each characters background. Search for characters to eliminate or combine to keep story free of “extras” who aren’t necessary.

Third read through is for grammar and punctuation. Watch out for common problems such as: spelling that the spell-check missed, typos, quotation marks, commas, colons, semicolons, dashes, and ellipses. Read dialogue out loud. Improve awkward or uncharacteristic speech. Look for long paragraphs and sentences that need further breaking up. Watch for brevity, clarity and energy. Alternate sentence patterns to keep the readers attention. Stay in the active voice as much as possible.

The fourth read through is to evaluate your writing style and question every word you’ve written. Look for dull word choices, clich�s, common phrasing, missed opportunities for sensory appeals (sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch), awkward or too unusual word choices or phrases, lackluster description, over description (purple prose), wordiness, redundancies, qualifiers, weak verbs, and improperly used or too much jargon.

The final read through comes after you’ve set the story aside for a week or so to put distance between you and the work. Don’t rush. Examine everything. Check for flow, consistency, tone and vitality. A thorough job makes a stronger story. If you are happy with your manuscript at this point, find a publisher who will love it as much as you do. Good Luck. Lynde Lakes

Author of VIRGIN WOLF I & II

CHECK WEBSITE FOR OTHER NOVELS

INCLUDING COWBOY LIES

www.lyndelakes.com

HEART OF YOUR CHARACTER

2011-01-09T14:41:00-05:00

Getting To The Heart of Your Characters

Before beginning writing I need to explore my main characters’ personality and why they deserve to have a book written about them. Perhaps they’re struggling to find themselves and how they fit into their complicated world. Since I believe that love is the energy that makes the world spin, I try to find two characters who—while complete alone—would be much better if they joined their strengths with another. In order to pursue this, I must know how my characters will behave under stress. At this point, I delve into the evil character in the mix and his motives. I also consider the victim or victims and their motives.

Within that framework, I let the character tell me how he/she will behave in an impossible situation, when confronted by a forbidden love? Or some other equally hopeless scenario. The key is to write down a list of possible reactions and figure out, with the characters’ background, goals and desires, how he/she will react. Some people reveal high emotions with little provocation. Others, with deeply buried emotions, may only reveal a twitching muscle. It helps to show a character’s core at every opportunity, and if he/she steps outside of their normal behaviors divulge a strong reason.

In my novel VIRGIN WOLF. ISBN: 978-1-936279-41-8, I pitted two dominant characters against each other and against their dark and unfortunate heritages. Their only salvation in this dangerous situation was to work together.

VIRGIN WOLF--Angela Ward, a Gemini virgin, hates controlling men, especially in their wolfish form. When she meets the gorgeous Alpha werewolf Damon Lamont III, she fights falling under his spell. Her equally controlling wolf-counterpart, however, sees this handsome Alpha’s attempt at control and fiery passion as a delicious challenge, forcing Angela to make an exception. Angela knows she’s courting danger by falling prey to her feral desires with a man who may be the hairy beast tearing out the throats of innocent young women in her community.

ZERO IN ON PLOT

2010-10-17T20:01:00-05:00

ll/15/2010 ZERO IN ON PLOT
The first page and the last page of a novel are two crucial elements that can make or break a book. So let’s talk first about the first page and the set up of that extremely important beginning. I’ll break it down in its simplest form. I like memory cues so I’ll use CAE, POV & Setting.

CAE=Conflict, Action and Emotion.
POV= The character or individual telling the story.
Setting= World building. Actually, the setting becomes a character of the book.

It is a delightful challenge to get the CAE, the POV and the setting all on the first page. But it is crucial that you do. I would love to do a workshop where we only work on getting those things down. I think it would be fun and the results would surprise and delight you.

If we do it right, plotting the entire novel, although a complex task, becomes manageable. With a good strong start we can more easily lead the reader into the story and keep them turning the pages. We want a carefully crafted plotline interwoven with clever and believable characterization, tightly written dialogue with sufficient action. Having said that, I’ll be the first to admit it is a tremendous challenge. I’m still working on how to make this journey memorable to my readers. I think it boils down to the authors’ ability to surprise themselves.

The whole first page becomes what some call a hook or crucial inciting incident. Remember it’s important to throw your reader into the thick of things with a serious predicament that looks unsolvable. Your reader is drawn into the story, wanting to know how the protagonists got into this mess and how they will dig and claw themselves out.

POV and character go together which means we add one more thing to the mix—a taste of the character we will be dealing with for the next 300 or so pages.

Middle--Great stories are about interesting, likeable people facing extraordinary situations. Heroes are never perfect. Actually, their fatal flaw makes them memorable and if you’re lucky, endearing.

We show the characters’ strengths, weaknesses and personality through their actions and dialogue. This tells us more about our character than a sleep-inducing chunk of narrative.

Villains should have their own charm and be as strong and clever as the hero or heroine, or when they are defeated it won’t be exceptional and make your reader care about what happens to the hero.

As you work your way through the middle, and it’s necessary subplots, you must step up the tension and throw in unexpected twists and turns that leave no doubt to the impossible odds facing your protagonists. These changes force the characters to act upon the new situation. Each time one problem is solved, throw in another to impede your characters. Each hurdle jumped must become more of a challenge, building to the climatic scene and the equally important last page.

The last page
This is the page the reader has stuck with you through the entire novel to read. It cannot be anything but a work of art. You must spend as much time on the first and last page as you do on a whole chapter and think it through just a carefully. Have you proven the premise of your story? You know the hero defeats the bad guy, the girl gets her man, and they live happily ever after. But remember, you can’t avoid the believable build-up to this final great face-off and closing scene without explaining why what happens on the page is a necessary step for your characters to take. If you fail to lay the foundation, you can leave your reader feeling cheated, and make your story seem contrived.

By the way, contrived is a favorite word of some editors. Try to avoid having it used to reject your work. One way to do this is to set up your obstacles so there is no other way this story could end based upon the events that led your reader to that work of art—the last page.

Hey, isn’t this writing stuff fun? Okay get busy and write, write, write…. Aloha, Lynde

THE MEAT OF ROMANCE

2010-09-26T04:57:00-05:00

9/4/2010
THE MEAT OF ROMANCE
Or what is romance all about, anyway?

I think romance is about empowerment and finding the partner who’s strong enough and secure enough to admire a strong woman, yet nurturing and protective enough to realize that even a formidable woman has vulnerabilities. As the protagonists go through the story arc, fighting their fatal flaws, they learn about themselves and each other. They find that they need the skill or mental agility of the other to achieve their goal. And in an intrigue romance, this goal might be to avoid death.
In my new release, VIRGIN WOLF, Angela Ward, in her human state, is a sharp analyst for a large company who doesn’t like to be controlled, and Damon Lamont III is a dominant, controlling business executive. Both protagonists morph into dominant Alphas wolves—and both vie to lead the pack in a grueling dance of dominance.
As a human, Angela is a Gemini extrovert and Damon is an Aires recluse. For a hero and heroine who operate in such opposing poles of personality, and who both want to call the shots, it’ll take compelling reasons for them to attempt to share control and work together.
In this story, Angela is a young woman fighting to overcome recent blows to her confidence and her sense of identity—and even what she is. She wins her struggle, and becomes even more determined to empower herself in spite of the events that have left her vulnerable.
The Alpha werewolf hero senses her vulnerabilities and plans to prey on them. But he has underestimated her strength. When this virgin she-wolf matches him growl for growl and bite for bite, he admires her courage and bravery and grows protective.
Slowly his goal to conquer and control Angela changes, and he is transformed into a hero who wants to preserve her empowerment and protect her, even at the cost of his own life.
Of course, in romances, we like happy endings. Will it be enough that he’s willing to sacrifice himself? Or will she view his sacrifice as another attempt to control her destiny?
Writers, have fun empowering your protagonists…and yourselves. Hugs, Lynde

NEW BUZZ

2010-09-26T04:39:00-05:00

9/25/2010

NEW BUZZ FROM THE
SAVVY ELECTRONIC SET

Electronic novels are the rage with college students and young professionals. Palm Pilots and hand held PCs and other similar PDA or Electronic book (E-book) reader devices have gained popularity with the population as a whole as well. Folks who never would have read an E-book straight from their desktop or laptop computer are now checking out E-books to read on their hand held devices. They do this for the sheer joy of finding different, entertaining stories that fall outside the print publisher’s box. E-books often are so action-packed and exciting that those without reader devices don't mind reading straight from their computers.

If you’re one of those still in the dark about E-books don’t panic. Help is on the way. To buy an E-books on the Internet, you go to one of the sites, select the book or books of your choice and download to your personal computer and save somewhere convenient to read instantly on the computer or "hot sync" to a Palm Pilot or other hand held device for portable reading.

The best news is that E-books, while quality reading, are reasonably priced, and other than the basic requirement of having access to a computer, modem and Internet service to purchase the books, there is no other expense involved. A second advantage is easy, space- saving storage, a third is in humid climates such as ours there is no chance of one of your favorite stories having to be tossed because of mildew.

Local authors are getting on the bandwagon to bring you stories to enrich your life and give you hours of pleasure. If you are adventurous and savvy, go to the Internet and discover what you are missing.

Can you do it? Definitely. You are the powerful ruler of your world—a phenomenal man or woman who can benefit from the wonderful romantic stories of others who have skirted the mine field of love and came out the winner.

Here’s where to start: If you like a darker story with a complex layered plot where the hero claws his way through a difficult growth and finally finds love and wisdom try my new 2010 release VIRGIN WOLF. Aloha, Lynde

BRAINSTORMING AND THE THROW AWAY CHARACTER

2010-06-10T16:49:00-05:00

“What?” Why in the world would anyone write in a character they plan to throw away? The reason is psychological. The writer’s brain will consider this intrusion a challenge and try to find a use for them. The writer may not be aware of the mental gyrations, but suddenly this potential-reject is interesting and becomes an important part of the novel that cannot be discarded.

The writer comes up with this person by brainstorming. What kind of character might the hero or heroine find especially irritating and perhaps even dangerous?

The writer has done their character chart, and as they flesh out the problems and background of the H/H, they gain the ability to brainstorm what kind of individual will complicate things simply by their presence in the story.

Some main characters who are interesting opposing matches might be: A nun and a convict, a lawyer and a murderer, a rancher and a Hollywood star, a baseball player and a woman who hates sports, or a league owner, a detective who hates reporters and a reporter, or a ranch owner and a woman who likes town living, a preacher and a prostitute, a vampire and a doctor, a werewolf and a detective who wants to prove werewolves don’t exist.

Say the story is about a werewolf who has lived many lives and has a very old soul and a rockin’ hard body, and a detective who, although she admires a hard body now and then, still believes only in hard evidence.

What throw-away character can use to complicate things? An archeologist? A wolf expert? A spiritualist? This perhaps quirky spiritualist or wolf expert, originally meant to be a walk-on, walk-off character, could develop into a crucial part of the story solution.

Get your critique group or a few writer friends together to brainstorm just for fun. When they throw out ideas, the room will come alive with electrical energy—and perhaps magic will happen. Give it a try.

Happy brainstorming, Lynde

TRIED AND TRUE OR SOMETHING NEW

2010-05-02T16:45:00-05:00

Personally, I’m comfortable writing romantic suspense, but I’m always tweaking it in one manner or another. I love brainstorming and try to ratchet the excitement and action up a notch in each new book. I’ve done paranormal romantic suspense, and now I’m doing a wolf romantic suspense. My publisher strongly suggested that I give it a try because the darker side is selling well now. I don’t like trends, but darn it, it was a challenge and I’m a sucker for a challenge.

I learned it is great fun to stretch my comfort level. I didn’t know I could get so excited about a werewolf and his life of torture and pleasure seeking. Although the world is against him, he keeps his sense of humor and doesn’t let his “little” transformation problem get him down. Shoot, werewolves need love, too.

So I paired him up with a great gal who could be sympathetic to his problem. Not too sympathetic. She’s a clever chick who is smart enough to suspect his feral self and sometimes even his everyday rather amorous self. I mean what girl in her right mind wants to be out with a guy who is great until the moon comes out and all hell breaks loose? Well, yeah, lots of guys are sorta like that, but hopefully they don’t spout fangs and howl at the moon. Although I think we’ve all been out with a guy or two who did something just as bizarre.

Now, back to the story. Next, I put my characters into a castle spooky enough to become a character. But that isn’t enough, I needed a villain. No, I need two villains. And some trouble-making busybodies. And some poor advice-giving best friends. And a storm. And maybe throw in a Holiday. Yeah. Halloween. That fits the spooky atmosphere. Oh, wow and let’s throw in some heavy astrology and a fortune teller. Hey this is fun. If you haven’t started your story for the year, do some brainstorming. Try wolves, vampires, witches or lump them together and make them all try to exist in the same world, tripping over each other for supremacy. Challenge yourself…stretch…try it you’ll like it.

Rainbows, Lynde

WRITING THRU THE STRESS

2009-04-07T16:55:00-05:00

Things are going along nicely and then whammo we are hit with a double whammy. Things fall apart around us, family responsibilities pile up. We are running around like a chicken trying to avoid the axe. When time is scarce, the writing is pushed aside and just when we may need it the most to relax and replenish our well.

Personality Traits Needed To Be a Writer

It may help to look again at the personality traits needed to be a writer. Besides having a great imagination, we as writers need to be a self-starter, determined, like reading, love books, have a curious nature, like research, have a willingness to share our creative vision of the world, and love challenges. And when our life starts unraveling, we’ll need that love of challenges.

Fighting the Stress Devil

We all know the stress devil well. He jumps into our lives with a bag full of conflict and suffering and unleashes it on us until all we want to do is go to bed and cover up our heads. But that doesn’t help, at least not in the long run. So we make a list. What are the problems? Which ones can we take care of today? Some we can never solve. Some just have to be lived through. The ones we can handle, we can check off on the list as we do them. Maybe set a goal of one a day. And for mental and physical health we add daily exercise. Yes, exercise. It makes us stronger and better able to handle the red guy. We also add fifteen minutes a day to write. Every day. That is to replenish our mental balance and get us over the rough spots. We can’t think about our troubles if we’re making trouble for our characters. Perhaps we can sling some of our trouble at them. They are heroic, like us and they can handle it.

We Say It Isn’t That Simple.

Right it isn’t! But in our fantasy world we are in control. We deserve to let ourselves enjoy that for fifteen minutes a day, don’t we? It will probably save our lives and make us stronger.

Rainbows, Lynde

Latest News

2010-03-03T04:49:00-05:00

VIRGIN WOLF

When Angela Ward, a Gemini virgin

meets gorgeous alpha werewolf Damon Lamont, she fights falling under his spell. But with the Halloween full moon
bringing her she-wolf hormones to a boil and pressures mounting to stop the series of brutal killings, she must choose her poison. Which is double-difficult when her equally controlling wolf-counterpart sees Damon-the-wolf as a delicious challenge.

As the four parts of the two wholes lust and spar escalating danger closes in from the dark corners of the bedroom community, stirring fears & steamy emotions.

ISBN: 978-1-936279-41-8

Excerpts at this website and at: amirapress.com

*

LASSO THAT COWBOY.

TWO TROUBLED PASTS EQUAL DOUBLE TROUBLE FOR THIS WIDOWED FATHER WITH QUICK FISTS,TRIGGER REACTIONS AND A PASSION TO FOLLOW THE RODEO CIRCUIT.

Oh, did I mention his controlling brother?

Desperate, Luke hires a nanny with no credentials. Amber, is the only prospect for the job on his remote South Texas ranch. He might not be so quick to hire her if he knew she had a loaded .38 in her purse. Her secrets could destroy everything he's worked so hard to develop--and get him and his daughter killed.

New romantic intrigue, DEADLY INFLUENCE coming in mid-March in Print and E-book format.Romantic Intrigue

DEADLY INFLUENCE—Sparks fly when An “Officer and a Gentleman type, Air Force Intelligence Lieutenant Jay Corning, is tackled by the female version of “The Bodyguard.” When he finally learns that the “supposed tart” is really his grandmother’s bodyguard, Lisa Dixon, they join forces. Together they struggle to keep his grandmother and each other alive while trying to uncover the person trying to kill the strong-willed matriarch. Complications arise when the escalating danger closes in from the dark corner of the small community, stirring fears and steamy emotions.

BRAINSTORMING AND PLOTTING

2010-01-17T16:27:00-05:00

If stories come to you faster than you can write them down, brainstorming can still be useful tools at many stages of the novel. Start now wherever you are in the process.

But suppose you want to start a new book. One way to start a new book is to grab a random idea and see where it takes you. In my novel BILLBOARD COP, I was waiting in Aina Haina parking lot for my buddy. A shiny Mercedes entered the lot and parked. A handsome, well-dressed man (a 15 in a range of 1-10) got out of the car and walked over to a rusty dented Ford. He looked around, then wrote something on a card and placed it under the windshield wiper. When he returned to his car, he stood outside, looking indecisive, then finally climbed back into his car. Before he exited the lot, I was already dreaming up stories to explain what was going on and what he’d written on the card.

The nice car versus old car made me think of Cinderella. But no, that wasn’t where this story was headed. The whole story began to fold in my head. Yet, it had nothing to do with the card, the card had turned into a billboard. I was going to Boston that weekend and the idea churned in my mind. I knew the story would be a romantic intrigue, because that is what I write, and the setting would be Boston. I had experience with gas-leaking service stations, land acquisitions, and government. Hmm. The story would include those elements, I decided. Then I started the wild brainstorming, putting down ideas, good or bad, as fast as I could. That was while in flight. By the time I arrived in Boston, I had pages of brainstorming. Then, after week in a hotel room, BILLBOARD COP was born.

BRAINSTORMING TYPES

WILD BRAINSTORMING

Wild brainstorming works great in groups or alone. The idea of wild brainstorming is to dump ideas onto paper as fast as you can. We use this process to trigger ideas when we have nothing in mind. But I know most of us always have something churning in the brain cells. It is helpful to start with a stack of blank 3x5 cards. Take one card and write down any topic that comes to mind, love, hate, adoption from a foreign country, adoption of a handicapped child, divorce, loss of money, finding a suitcase full of money. Or go with animals, cats, dogs, wolves, horses. Or relatives, aunts, uncles, mother, step-mother, sisters brothers, cousins. Then, if the novel is an intrigue, someone has to die or someone has to murder them. Try a place, Russia, Hawaii, Utah, Las Vegas. I’ll bet each of you can grab any of those dumb ideas and weave them into a story. If not, start putting down more things, silver, gold, veils, kings, brides. Still no trigger?

Take your next card and write down as many conflicts as come into your mind, maybe use something from the first card.

Now on a third card, make two columns of unlikely characters. A nun and a convict, a lawyer and a murderer, a rancher and a Hollywood star, a baseball player and a woman who hates sports, or maybe she is the league owner, a detective who hates reporters and a reporter, or a ranch owner and a woman who likes town living, a preacher and a prostitute and so forth--you get the idea.

STRUCTURED BRAINSTORMING

This is the process used when you already have an idea, but are searching for new possibilities. I used structured brainstorming in my last job. In our inter-agency meetings, we knew what the outcome had to be, but we wanted input on how best to achieve it in the most inventive and less costly way. In seconds, we would catch fire with enthusiasm. You can do the same thing with a firm idea. You toss the idea out, say what you hope to accomplish and then sit back and let the group take the idea and build on it.

Structured brainstorming takes more thought, but the ideas still have to gush out fast. Say you want to write a woman’s fiction story to help others. Maybe you have gone through the ordeal yourself and have helpful things to say about the topic, but you want some ideas on how to present it. Should it be set in the ghetto, in a hospital, on a ranch? Should there be a love story along with it? What two unlikely characters would be guaranteed to butt heads?

Great characters are often a little wacky, colorful, theatrical, exaggerated, flamboyant, ditzy, dizzy and contrary. Look at the Wedding Singer. He flashed through extremes constantly. The creation of wacky characters can be fun. One way to exaggerate a trait is to make it way out there: a fanatical love of pickles with peanut butter or hatred of snakes, bugs, or sharks. Or an obsessive love of trains, or electronic eavesdropping, or a compulsive need to climb up on high places to think and a hero who is afraid of heights. Extremism in anything will serve. Maybe pit a character who believes in living life to the fullest, and damn the consequences with a character who is ultra cautious.

Wacky characters add spice to serious characters. They act as a foil. The use of foils is a literary device for enhancing the traits of one character by contrasting them with the opposite traits of another. Brainstorming can help with this.

PLOTTING YOUR STORY

This is where the “story arc” is developed to keep you on track. The conflict must be ever-present. Menacing your characters is the name of the game. What is the worst thing that can happen at this moment? Brainstorm this. How many characters do you need to tell the story and make the lead characters shine? What will be the reoccurring theme? What kind of setting do you need to show this story at its best advantage? What kind of weather? How can we gain sympathy, empathy for and identify with our characters? Virtually any predicament that brings physical, mental, or spiritual suffering to the character will earn the reader's sympathy: Loneliness, lovelessness, humiliation, deprivation, repression embarrassment, danger. As we plot, we need to keep all of this in mind. We thrust our characters into crisis, then light the fuse.

When we plot a story, we must have memorable characters and plot twists. Brainstorm plot twists, unique characters, and the desperation they need to fire them up and push them into action. Dynamic characters have conflicting emotions and destructive desires. Such emotions as: ambition, love, faith, lust or whatever inner emotional fires are raging are the forces that are pulling dynamic characters in more than one direction. Dynamic character resolve these inner conflicts by taking actions that will lead to more story conflict and more inner conflict.. Brainstorm inter-conflicts.

Brainstorming, character contrast and setting. Rube in city. City girl on farm. Poor girl in elite clique. To set your characters off and plunge them into immediate difficulties, put them somewhere where they don't belong, where the action forces them to deal with new and possibly frightening circumstances. Give your characters intriguing backgrounds, make them have unusual ideas and insights, let some of them be wacky, contrast them well with each other and their setting, maybe even give them a dual nature. It is great to brainstorm this and let the group take some risks and see what develops.

Brainstorm the ruling passion. A characters central motivating force is the sum total of all the forces and drives within him. The ruling passion might be to commit the perfect crime, or become a great preacher, or pickpocket or art forger. It might be something less specific, like to be a good husband, wife. The ruling passion determines what the character will do when faced with dilemmas he or she must overcome in the course of the story

Our character has a dormant and an active ruling passion. The dormant one still defines his character for the writer, but is not what motivates him. For instance, if he is suddenly accused of murder. At all times, the characters must drive themselves with at least one ruling passion. However, what motivates him in one scene may not be the original passion but he may return to it once the present crisis is past. Brainstorm the chain reaction where something happens to the character that sets off a series of events, leading to some kind of climax and resolution.

It is easy to see that brainstorming can helpful at many stages of the novel to spice it up and do the unexpected and give our readers the surprises they crave. Aloha, Lynde

INSIDE THAT GREAT COVER Part Three

2009-10-27T16:57:00-05:00

In part one and two, we reviewed some of the important features that belong in our great cover. Remember, if you can reorder the scenes without changing the story then it wasn’t laid out right in the first place. In story with good development, the author can’t move the incidents around because the situation would change and the reactions would play differently. Now let’s look closer at what else needs to be between the pages of that great cover:

THE GREAT PREMISE: The premise is the theory behind the changes forced upon our characters because of the core conflict of the story. It is the story truth, based upon human nature, where the author believes that if he drops the character into a certain series of conflicts, he/she will change in a given manner. A premise may go against a moral or a theme.

The premise might be Alcoholism leads to control. This is ridiculous because alcoholism leads to a person who is out of control.

LOVE AND THE PREMISE. Love is the emotion that makes the world go around, either the existence of it or the absence of it. The only kind of love story worth writing about a powerful love, whether filial, brotherly, romantic, lustful, obsessive, etc. Your premise about obsessive love can lead to several conclusions: obsessive love leads to suicide or obsessive love leads to happiness etc. Your premise is yours alone; it is your truth, your vision in the world you created

Premise of COWBOY LIES: Put a cowboy, a baby and a woman with amnesia together, and the closeness and danger will make even the distrusting heart grow fonder. It is also that love wins, and control is not all bad. By controlling the situation, Matt is able to save his baby. Even though the story takes place on a cattle ranch, it is not a “how to” for ranching. Yet, every reference to ranching leads to that final scene.

Now to prove the premise: Every tense moment shows how Molly and Matt make mistakes but that no misstep or interference from others can corrupt the closeness that develops between them; and through almost losing their lives, they learn to forgive and achieve the balance needed for their love to survive.

THEME: A recurring fictional idea, aspects of the human existence tested or explored in the course of the novel. The theme and premise are NOT intended to teach a moral lesson. In COWBOY LIES, the theme is control. If a moral lesson develops from this theme, great, but it is not its function.

MORAL: A moral is what a story teaches. Like: Good cowboys don’t have to come in last. Control pushes people away. Sometimes a cowboy/FBI agent must lie to save lives. Alcohol kills. Crime doesn't Pay. If a story has a moral, it is probably a happy coincidence.

Matt Ryan's premise: CONTROL SAVES LIVES. If he believes the statement, then to keep Molly and her baby safe, he must control everything and everyone every minute. But such rigid control will probably force loved ones to resist and try to escape him and perhaps get killed in the process which is the opposite of his goal.

Types of Premises: chain reaction, opposing-forces, situational.

Chain reaction: Something happens to the character that sets off a series of events, leading to the climax and resolution. Finding the location of Matt’s daughter and kidnapping her, leads him to break every rule in the book, which ultimately leads to the resolution of the story. Good or bad.

Opposing forces: Control Defeats Love…or Love Destroys Control.

Situational Premise: Situation affects all the characters.

Questions to ask yourself: Was my premise proven? Are there any superfluous complications? Any ironies and surprises? Do characters grow and develop? Is the story worth writing? If we move forward via a causal chain of events, one situation will lead to another and eventually to a resolution.

It is common to have more than one premise to story. For instance a plot and subplot. Subplot must have a major impact on the main story.

Understanding the premise is simple: It tells what the story is about and what happens to the characters at the end. In good story, the author will economically prove the premise. And the premise will be worth proving.

Nothing works without strong characters and solid character development, ironies, and a STRONG NARRATIVE VOICE: (Something most of us have to work on.)

COWBOY LIES:

An image of blood-splattered walls shook her. Nothing felt right—nothing felt familiar—nothing jogged memories. Even her own name sounded strange to her ears, if it was her name. Molly Ryan? That mellow name didn’t fit the fire blazing in her gut, and that scared the hell out of her. Married. Was she really married?
She’d begged to stay at the hospital. She had felt safe there and had grown to trust Dr. De La Fuente during the months of treatment. That is, until he released her to this cowpoke in tight blue jeans and told her to trust this stranger. How could she trust this Stetson-wearing hunk of testosterone? He was pacing next to the fireplace like a fenced-in wild stallion. The initial shock of learning that she somehow may have shackled herself to this hard-edged cowboy slid closer to full-fledged panic. Did he expect her to share his bedroom tonight?
Lamplight reflected and magnified the shadow on the wall of his feral, agitated movements. Did he resent that she had been thrust on him in this bewildered condition? Would he turn that barely contained anger on her? She shivered, fighting an urge to bolt. “I can’t be married to you. Nothing seems right!”
He paused, and his piercing gaze locked with hers—the intensity sent chills along her nerve endings. “You’re gonna have to trust me on this one, Molly,” he drawled. “We’re hitched.”

CONCLUSION: We have goal, conflict, action, disaster and resolution painted majestically on the landscape of our imagination with passion and a desire to share the workings of our minds with those who might enjoy the escape into our world.
Writing is a glorious challenge and learning the tools is only the first step. Next, we have to practice and practice and hope each day our accomplishments grow and blossom. If it were easy, we would all be on bestseller lists and agents would be begging to represent us. In the meantime, we will help each other along the way and flower as human beings. The best part about writing is the journey and the friends you discover along the way. Aloha to all of you, Lynde