Meaning I spent today walking around like a Turret's victim, pacing and tugging at my hair as I studied the catalog, but I couldn't seem to concentrate on it, I was also so easily distracted by every last thing. For some stupid reason I get like this when I'm really upset. Any outside stimuli suddenly - bang - has my attention and I'm hyper aware and can't focus on anything else until something else intrudes. Meaning while I clutched the catalog, music was playing - music I didn't really hear - as Facebook pinged - and the dogs barked - and I went to see what had them in a tizzy - and the neighbor drove by - then my stopped with a guy named Mike - and the computer pinged again, Facebook - and my cellphone rang, unknown number, ignore it - and my husband came home - to which he saw what I was like and promptly...the music was turned off, the cellphone was turned off, for an hour the internet was turned off, and he made me put the catalog down. After all, I looked like a mad woman wondering about with it.
In the end I picked a class on how to do mosaics. Really kind of happy about it. Hope it doesn't get cancelled too. I know how to do tile and stone and mortar and brick, so...Seriously, don't let this get cancelled. I can't deal with it.
* * *
Given the recent popularity of the mini-series of the Bible on television, I decided to promote my faith-based erotic, Festival of Lights a wee bit. (Hey, the Bible has sex and violence. Think I'm wrong, just read it.)
To that end, here's a new blurb:
Torn by the tides of religious war yet again, ancient Jerusalem proved a dangerous place for rabbinical students. To save his son a merchant made a most unusual purchase, a female Scythian slave - horse and all. Return in time to the first Hanukkah to witness miracles of faith and love.
And a work safe excerpt:
With the fluid grace of a predator, she closed the distance between them. The animal part of his brain was bleating in fear, but the male part was fully appreciative. The play of muscles under skin, coupled with the way she moved, walking on the balls of her feet with just the hint of a feminine sway. Hypnotized by the display, he didn’t notice how close she came until the twisted belt at her waist bumped a part of his body that enjoyed her prowl too much. So much so, if she moved any closer there would be no way she could miss the thickness of his arousal against her belly.
A calm, analytical part of his mind registered her attributes in painful detail. Saka was tall compared to other women he’d encountered. With a flash he imagined them naked, her hands circling his swollen manhood as he pushed her against the wall, lifting a lithe, muscular thigh. Then she gripped his chin with her dirt-stained fingers and the daydream shattered.
“Do you see me?” Saka lifted her arms. All Jacob saw was the ornate vest molding a taut waist and comely breasts flaring beautifully above lush hips and toned thighs, but somehow he doubted that was the answer she was seeking.
“Better I think, than you know,” his voice came out huskier than intended and deep inside her blue eyes something contracted, then flared candle-bright.
“Then know this, Conqueror of the line of Kings. I fell in battle. I failed my people. It was they, not the enemy, who decided my worth lay in the slave market and not as a warrior. I cannot go home. There is no home for me with the Kimmeroi.”
For a moment Jacob stood astonished at the heartlessness of her betrayal. Women were the core of his people. There was not a one without value beyond compare. Then he remembered his dream, white deserts tamed as he walked the land and a curious feeling of power grew in his chest.
“Wear your hair as our women do. Wear clothes as they do – but do not forsake your own. No one but Elokim, our God, knows what lies in the future.
No comments:
Post a Comment