My baby’s gone and got herself a tattoo. Don’t get me wrong - it’s actually quite tasteful, a spray of snowflakes over her hip. On anyone else’s daughter I’d say it was quite nice, but on my little girl??

Oh. Oh…

This picture isn’t her, BTW.

And she’s not the only one. My son has an interlaced Celtic design up one bicep and he’s going to have it extended over his shoulder as soon as he can afford it. On any other man, I’d say it looks sexy. He has lovely golden skin and excellent muscle tone. (I’m a good breeder, okay?) But on my baby boy? Oh dear.

I’d be the first to say tattoos can enhance the body. Some of them are true works of art, really classy. After all, Brin in GIFT OF THE GODDESS has the most gorgeous dragon tattoo on his most gorgeous self. And the hero of my current WIP (Book 2 of the Four-Sided Pentacle series) is probably going to finish up with a small tattoo - to remind him of something.

But what is it with this passion for ink? You’d be hard put to find anyone under the age of thirty without a tatt somewhere on their person. Obviously, I need to catch up with shows like Miami Ink.

In fifty years, we’ll have a generation of wrinkled, tattooed bods creaking about with their walking frames. I fixed DD with my beady gaze and said darkly, “I hope you still like it when you’re eighty.” She just tossed her hair and smiled, being totally incapable of believing she might actually be that old - ever. They’ve both pointed out it could have been worse - like a skull with flaming eyeballs and a snake coming out of its mouth. Guess so. *sigh*

As for me, I’m pretty well ambivalent. If I was younger, I’d think about it seriously. Something small and sexy in a private place. Where I wouldn’t sag. But geez, I’d have to love that design! And it would need to be deeply meaningful if I was going to carry it on my skin for the rest of my life.

What do you think of tattoos? Slutty? Decorative? Important? Do you have one? If so, why did you get it? People’s reasons are always so interesting. Is there a difference to your appreciation if the tatt is on a man or a woman? Does it make a man sexier?

If you're new here, you may want to subscribe to my RSS feed. Thanks for visiting. You will only see this message once, I promise!

I loved writing STRONGMAN and I absolutely, flat-out adored writing the Epilogue for it. It was…um…very satisfying.

Don’t ask me what it is about two gorgeous alpha men loving each other. I dunno. More bang for your buck? *wicked chuckle*

If you didn’t know, the film, Brokeback Mountain, was the original inspiration for STRONGMAN. By the time the credits rolled up, I was in tears. I was also furious - what an appalling waste of true love! Fort is essentially Ennis, the character played by Heath Ledger. Griff turned out to be - well, Griff. He’s unique.

Elaine talked about the movie in a comment a little while ago -

Of course I couldn’t find another solution for them. In that time and in that society, they would have butted up against the brick wall of bigotry at every turn. The only solution would have been to take them to a totally different world. And that’s exactly what Strongman does. That story was responsible for helping me pull myself out of the funk caused by Brokeback Mountain. At least Fort and Griff made it. They’re happy. *sigh* There’s hope for every other couple after reading about them. Thank you Denise.

The link for the complete epilogue (two whole chapters’ worth) will be in my next newsletter - second week of July. http://groups.yahoo.com/subscribe/deniserossetti It’s my exclusive gift for the members of my newsgroup. Why? Because I love ‘em all to death for sticking with me, that’s why.

Also because I’ll be away from mid July to September, travelling in the US and Canada. And I feel bad, because my Internet access will be intermittent.

Here you go ~ BTW, the drawing is by John Singer Sargent. It encapsulates so much of what I’m trying to convey about masculinity and aggression and eroticism. And it’s beautiful.

Epilogue

The click of metal on metal sounded very loud over the sound of their panting breath, the breeze whispering in the trees. Six fucking months it had taken Griff to win a wrestling match with Fort - but now, Twister be praised, he had. First fall.

Carefully, Griff rose, backed away. Any second… One, two -

“What the fuck-?” Fort’s roar of fury shook the hidden valley. He lurched to his feet, awkward because of the wrists cuffed behind him. “You little shit, you cheated!”

Griff staggered over to a handy boulder and collapsed, his heart singing even as the breath rasped in his lungs. “No more than you did, that first time.” He shot the big man a feral grin, full of evil promise. “I wasn’t going to lose, not again.” Twisting around, he rubbed the back of his thigh. “Shit, I think I pulled something.”

“Serves you right,” said Fort sourly. “But cuffs, Griff?” They rattled as he tested them, the muscles writhing beautifully under olive skin. “Was that necessary?”

Griff straightened, brushing off the bits of grass, the crushed daisies, checking for bruises. He took his time, trying to still the internal trembling. He was naked, they both were, the daylight illuminating every muscle, every tendon and sinew, the scars on Fort’s huge body. “I didn’t think anything as flimsy as leather would hold you,” he said.

Exclusive to members of my newsletter group.

If you enjoy male/male romance, especially that written by female authors, what is it that draws you? Do you have authors to recommend? Josh Lanyon’s good, and I like Jet Mykles and Morgan Hawke when they do Yaoi.

I’m still astonished at how it pushes my buttons. Do you think that’s weird? (It’s okay if you do!)

If you don’t like it, what is it that turns you off?

Okay, now I’m asking about newsletters, the kind that land in your inbox on a regular basis, maybe monthly. You know the sort - usually a Yahoo group you subscribe to. Your comments on the Great Bookmark Debate and the Care and Feeding of Books were incredibly helpful, so I thought I’d ask for your opinion again.

Lots of writers have newsletters, me included. They vary enormously, in content, in intent and in regularity. Mine’s here. If you’re curious but don’t want to commit, by all means subscribe, have a look and then unsubscribe. I’ll understand. Just ignore the pathetic farewell message. It’s designed to make you feel guilty. heh heh

All I know is that it takes a lot of time and energy for me to put my newsletter together, time I carve out from my other writing obligations, my family and my day job. Don’t get me wrong, I purely love doing it, but sometimes I wonder if it’s worth the hours I put in. Mine is announcement only, so it’s not a discussion loop in any sense, but I really do think of my newsletter readers as a kind of extended family. They’re very special to me.

So first - do you actually read the things? Perhaps you skim. ‘Fess up!

If you do read, beginning to end, what is it that gets you in? What makes you smile with anticipation when you see an author’s newsletter in your inbox?

Conversely, what turns you off? What doesn’t work? Hoo boy, I really want to know about this one!

Here’s a list of features to get you started. What works for you? Anything else you’d like to suggest? What sort of tone do you like?

• Sneak previews of upcoming books, excerpts
• Contests
• Freebies - like stories, or podcasts, or giveaways
• Personal info (but not too personal) about the author, some insight into their life/personality
• Photos of the author/family/holidays
• Photos of gorgeous men
• Book or movie reviews
• Articles and info about how to write/get published
• Exclusive rewards - eg special stories, pictures
• Being the first to know
• Regular features - eg a story, or a FAQ spot.
• Reviews of the author’s books

Would you prefer?

• A regular newsletter, say monthly
• A newsletter more like an occasional update, when there’s something important to say
• A blog, no newsletter

When I launched my newsletter, it was months ahead of the release date for my first book, GIFT OF THE GODDESS. I didn’t have anything to offer readers except entertainment. I certainly couldn’t afford to be handing out too many contest prizes. (I still can’t.) So I started a very silly, very sexy story.

Every month, I write a chapter of that ongoing story. The current one is called Rackety Kate and the Pirates. I’ve already finished The Amorous Adventures of Alice. Alice turned out to be the size of a decent novella, 30,000 words. Those are words I could have sold to a publisher, but I didn’t. I gave them away. Kate is meandering along the same way.

I try to make the story interactive by involving readers, asking them to vote on what happens next, or getting them to suggest a plot twist or a name for something. I leave every chapter dangling, like the Perils of Pauline. I don’t just write the thing off the cuff -I try to be funny, I try to be erotic. It takes time and concentration, not easy when I’m on a deadline.

I’ve also written an Epilogue for STRONGMAN, in which Griff turns the tables on Fort and thereby achieves his heart’s desire. I’m going to offer it exclusively to my newsgroup, a reward for loyalty and an inducement for new folk to sign up. Of course, they could bail out straight after they’ve read, but I have to gamble they’ll be entertained enough to stay.

Lora Leigh has over 60,000 people in her newsgroup. I think I have a way to go!

So, what do you think of author newsletters? Hmm? Am I wasting my time?

Not much time left! One lucky commenter in June will win an autographed copy of A Red Hot New Year, four sizzling stories to ring in the New Year, including my contribution, Coming on Strong!

Introducing the Passionate Ink Cyber Circuit: We’re a group of writers who belong to the Passionate Ink chapter of Romance Writers of America and write erotic romance. (See the links in the sidebar.) Once or twice a month our members will tour a recent release, so you get to find fabulous new authors for your TBR pile!

It’s my pleasure to introduce our next author out on tour - Alexis Fleming

The Book:

The love doctor is in…but can he take a dose of his own medicine?

Pan, the Arcadian god of lust and magic, has had enough of his restricted existence hidden away on Arcadia. When Cupid, the Greek god of love, suggests he live on Earth, Pan decides to give it a go.

Pan establishes himself as the luuuuuv doctor and announcer for a nighttime romantic music slot with a local radio station. He plays his pan-pipes, enthralling all who listen. Cupid warns Pan that his days of playing fast and loose with women’s emotions are numbered. Sure enough, Pan meets Kris, the woman who takes him to task. The leather-wearing, Harley-riding, hard-ass psychologist has her own agenda, and it doesn’t include him. Before he knows what’s happening, she has turned the table on the god, and he’s smitten.

Kris is exactly the right medication, the perfect dose for the nomadic God of Lust, who has finally found a love of his own.

Who says Cupid has to confine himself to one day of the year?

PANDEMONIUM, co-authored with Lyn Cash, is the second story in the Sexy Mythconception series from Total-e-bound Publishing.

Click the cover to buy. Click here for an excerpt.

ABOUT ALEXIS

Alexis Fleming is one of those strange people who live inside their mind. No, she doesn’t hear little voices… Well, she does, just not the type you’re thinking of. Alexis’ world is peopled with interesting characters and exciting possibilities that come to life in each and every book she writes. Her first love has always been romance, whether on this world or the next. Hot, sizzling relationships with a dash of comedy and a few trials and tribulations thrown in to test her characters.

When she’s not tied to her computer creating sizzling stories to tempt her readers, she helps run a busy motel set on the edge of a national marine park in Australia. What better place to get inspiration for the tales she turns out? A glorious sunset over the ocean, dolphins playing almost in her front yard, suntanned bodies lazing on the sand… How could she not get caught up in the eroticism of that?

The Interview:

This is the bit where I get to ask all those cheeky questions. Nosy? Moi?

In which of your books is the heroine most like yourself?

I hate to admit it but I think there’s a little bit of me in every book I write. I guess it comes back to that ‘write what you know’ thing. I pull on situations I’ve been in or emotions I’ve experienced to flesh out my characters. Not consciously, but when I read over what I’ve written, I’m able to track it back to something that has happened in my life.

Then there’s the fact that most of my heroines are quirky, weird, irreverent, sassy-mouthed, fiercely loyal, and just plain crazy at times. Lol Guess you could say that’s me to a large degree. Continue reading »

It’s hard to believe, I know, but my good friend and critique partner, Christine Wells, seems to have incarcerated poor Lady Kate from The Dangerous Duke. The Unfortunate Lady appears to be locked up in some strange labyrinth called the Writer’s Mind, her only consolation a strange little device called a lapdog - uh, top.

The story so far: The Dangerous Duke heroine, Lady Kate Fairchild, has been kidnapped by Romance Bandits and taken to their Lair. As punishment for the pain she caused her creator, Lady Kate must write a Diary of her Adventures, while served cocktails by Sven, the resident Swedish masseur. The Duke of Lyle is self-appointed editor of this mass of over-sentimentalized text.

For heaven’s sake, go and talk to the poor woman! I shudder to think of what may happen to Lady Kate, who is, after all, An Innocent. (Well, more or less.) She needs distraction. Oh dear, oh dear.

One lucky commenter in June will win an autographed copy of A Red Hot New Year, four sizzling stories to ring in the New Year, including my contribution, Coming on Strong!

I’m sure there’s a place in Nature for ants. Of course, there is. But NOT in my damn bed, on my leg. BITING.

In the last year or so, since the drought really began to bite here, we’ve been plagued by ants. And it’s not just us, I hasten to add. I know I’m a terrible housekeeper, but everyone has the ant problem - even my mother, who is squeaky clean!

First there are the medium size black ones, swarming all over the bathroom sink, only slightly discomfited when I splutter toothpaste over them. You have to brush them out of the way to be able to wash your face without a formic acid surprise.

Then there’s the teensy weeny little black guys. I swear they’re lurking in the cracks in the kitchen wall, waiting for me to put down the knife and turn away from the chopping board. And then - swooop! The minute my back’s turned, the little buggers are all over. And lord, they’re strong! You can almost hear them singing, “heave-ho, heave-ho!” as they tug at some big crumb. Like tiny Volga boatmen. Sometimes, just for a change of pace, the microscopic red ones turn up. They look like moving dust particles.

I was sitting on my bed this afternoon fiddling with this blog and my STRONGMAN epilogue (more about that later). BTW, I write in bed a lot, with the laptop on one of those tray-tables. I was pretty well distracted, concentrating on hot man lurve, when a piece of my thigh went OW-W-W-W!!! Not only was it an ant, it was a big guy. What we call a green ant (though they’re really black). They generally terrorise the garden, being really aggressive, about a quarter inch long. Not only had he wandered indoors and sashayed across my bed, he’d chosen to climb up and bite me, while I was peacefully minding my own business. The bloody nerve!

So I hauled off and thumped him with my thesaurus. Not a pretty (lovely, beautiful, gorgeous, attractive, pulchritudinous) way to go. Do you know, he curled into the softness of the mattress and sneered at me?

I was so incensed, I brushed him to the floor, seized a shoe and beat him to a pulp, meanwhile yelling like kung-fu fiend. Then I went to the bathroom for the anti-sting cream. Had to send another squillion of the medium size guys to a watery grave so I could reach the cupboard without that crawling feeling. *sigh*

My karma is toast. Hope I don’t come back as an ant.

What’s your least favourite biteme? That’s what I made up as an all-purpose word for all manner of insects in my fantasy worlds. I thought I was pretty clever ’til Joey told me they call bugs biteums in the Deep South.

Or even your least favourite creepy-crawly? Where I live it’s sub-tropical, which is just lovely - except for the warm weather critters. We have ants, flies, cockroaches, mosquitoes, spiders - you name it. And they all want to live in the house, cheek by jowl with the humans. I’ll never forget the time I found a red back spider (related to the American black widow) abseiling down the wall towards my baby’s pillow. Squish!

And you can thank me. I found all these great colour photos of the above-mentioned little horrors. But I spared you. Aren’t I considerate? heh heh

One lucky commenter in June will win an autographed copy of A Red Hot New Year, four sizzling stories to ring in the New Year, including my contribution, Coming on Strong!

I’m a watering pot, I admit it. It’s really, really weird and often embarrassing. I tear up over all kinds of things, some of them completely stupid. My eyes actually well up and I sniffle. Okay, sad movies - well, that’s all right, only to be expected.

But happy endings? Duh! I feel like such a twit.

Then there’s books. What is this? With a movie, yep, I’m getting the visual, the violins on the sound track, the broken voices, the whole acting gig. Pretty powerful stuff, emotionally, so I can see how I’m affected. Movie directors are clever people and manipulating emotions is their business.

But the printed page? Come on!

These are paper people, after all. They aren’t real. How can they make me cry? But they do. Every damned time. Somehow, I’ve developed a relationship with people who don’t exist.

Then there’s animals. Serial murders, done in various grisly ways? No problem. But bring on a big-eyed kitty-cat or a dog with droopy ears and I’m a goner. Have them die and I’m in floods. I only have to think of my dear old Burmese boy who died peacefully in my lap at the grand old age of nineteen and I’m all teary. (Hang on, have to blow my nose.)

For example, there’s a section in Joey W. Hill’s The Vampire Queen’s Servant, about a horse. The horse is perfectly okay, BTW, it’s a lovely horse and very happy. But the scene is beautifully written and incredibly touching. I sniveled my way through the critique. Joey was delighted, of course. Cos she’s a writer and she’d “got” me. Wicked woman.

I have a quote on my website, Fledge’s words ~

Stories have a power, a magic all their own. Consider the fact that the actions, thoughts and feelings of people who have no existence in reality can make you laugh, make you weep. That’s the art and that’s the magic.
[Extract from the Prologue, Collected Tales of the Fair by Fledge, Story Witch of the Ten Nations Fair, edited by Miriliel the Burnished, 10,362 ATF]

Fledge is a story witch, a professional teller of tales - and she’s speaking for me. It is magic, in my opinion. A kind of amazing telepathy.

We writers are evil creatures. We love to know we made you care enough to shed a tear.

Perhaps you’re a watering pot too. Do you enjoy a bit of a weep or will you avoid a book (or movie) if you think it’s going to put you through the emotional wringer? I won’t see those three tissue-box movies, because I know I’ll be too upset.

Do you close a book with a satisfied sigh because you’ve had your “fix”? I can handle the ole heartstrings getting tugged, but there has to be an HEA, or I’m very VERY upset!

One lucky commenter in June will win an autographed copy of A Red Hot New Year, four sizzling stories to ring in the New Year, including my contribution, Coming on Strong!

Last week, I asked you all what you thought of bookmarks. The post was called The Care and Feeding of Books. The response was wonderful, everyone had an opinion to offer. Thanks so much to every single one of you. I found it fascinating, and it definitely helped to crystallise my thoughts.

So here’s a short summary, which I hope is helpful to writers thinking about promotion. Mind you, I’m not saying it’s particularly conclusive, but there was some interesting stuff…

First off, there was some correlation between using bookmarks and being careful with books. People seemed to split into two broad groups - the book trashers (raises a sheepish hand) who basically love their books to death and the sister-carers of the book who take such exquisite care of their books that one reader divorced a husband because he creased her Asimov collection and another buys a second copy if she intends to lend it out.

Beyond that, those who enjoyed bookmarks far outnumbered those who were indifferent - by a factor of 3 to 1, in fact. Okay, most of you like pretty bookmarks, but whether you use them - or whether they’re effective for name recognition is a different matter entirely. A few of readers are amazingly particular, displaying bookmarks on cork boards, or matching them to the book itself, but for the majority, it’s just a thing you grab to mark your place - anything would do as well, even an old credit card, a tissue or a receipt.

A couple of readers said they would notice a bookmark if it was from an author they already knew, which is good, but not so much the purpose of the exercise. Others wanted the bookmark to say something meaningful, to stand for something. Then there were suggestions for different types - magnetised, book thongs, with cut-out “lips” to slide over the page. One idea, which I thought was brilliant, was a “lending” bookmark, with a place to write your name and a stub you could detach and keep. Sadly, they sound expensive.

Here were the sites recommended. In the USA, http://www.westsky.com In Australia, http://www.stuckonyou.biz and http://www.worldwide.com.au Vistaprint don’t do bookmarks, but some folks put two on a standard postcard and cut it down the middle. Clever.

My conclusion?

It’s horses for courses - that is, whether you use or like or notice bookmarks is a completely personal matter. What? Did you think it was going to be easy?

But if you are going to use a bookmark, it needs to be both sturdy and glossy - hard, laminated card.

However, I do believe a bookmark can be another effective way of getting a writer’s name in front of readers. It boils down to expense and design smarts and whether you can be bothered, really. I don’t think they’re obligatory by any means. I know I like something a little wider. I tend to lose skinny things (which is why I still have My Beloved). A number of us agreed flight boarding passes are great. So, for the time being, I might stick to postcards of my covers. At least I know how to do them. And they’re cheap!

We did say during the discussion that marketing lore says you need to get the brand name in front of a consumer 8 to 10 times to make a connection, let alone a sale. Every way you can find to do that has got to help, right?

So, folks, there you have it! Any further wisdom to add? And once again, thanks for your input. It really did help!

One lucky commenter in June will win an autographed copy of A Red Hot New Year, four sizzling stories to ring in the New Year, including my contribution, Coming on Strong!

I’ve only recently discovered The West Wing and I’m so completely absorbed in it, it’s a little alarming. Good grief, it’s good! And yes, I know I’m slow, okay? I’m only part of the way through Season 3 and I have to say, it gives me enormous pleasure to think there are seven seasons in total.

There are so many things I’m relishing about this show, but one of them is something that may not occur to you folks Over There. For an Aussie like me, who is not really familiar with the extraordinary complexities of the American political system, it’s a pretty painless way to learn. I’m fascinated by the wheeling and dealing, the checks and balances, the decision making, the lobbying, the polling, the strategising and spin-doctoring. Together with the whole Obama/Clinton race - which was actually, um, real - it’s proving to be quite an education.

Not long ago, I read a biography of Kevin Rudd, who is the recently elected (November last year) Prime Minister of Australia. At the time of publication, he was still only Opposition Leader, but - lo and behold! - the wheeling and dealing, the numbers game, was essentially the same. I can see it’s inevitable, the way politics works, the way politics has always worked, right from ancient times. I’m sure Pericles and Augustus had closed door meetings during which others in power, and those aspiring to it, asked the vital question - “If I give you my support, what’s in it for me/my people?”

The differences between the two offices, President and Prime Minister, are huge. (Not talking about incumbents here.) The office of PM here has the somewhat guarded respect of the nation, but the formality, the pomp, of the Oval Office is missing.

I’m not much of a political animal, I admit. I’m still left of centre, as I always have been, but sadly, I’m pretty cynical about the whole process these days. I do have a plot in my head for a contemporary romantic comedy though, set in the US somewhere and it requires the machinations of a corrupt Senator - also from somewhere. I wonder if I’ve learned enough from watching three seasons of The West Wing to write it? *snort* Scary thought, isn’t it?

Is politics an important part of your life, personally? Here in Australia, voting is compulsory, but I wouldn’t dream of not doing it anyway.

If you watched The West Wing, what did you like about it? Why do you think it rated so well with the American public? I love the tight writing (of course), the sharp, clever dialogue. In fact, all the characters are so very clever, aren’t they? The character development is great. I like CJ, though I imagine I would come up to her elegant knee. I also really enjoy Toby. Richard Schiff does a great job. And then there’s Leo, and Donna… Oh well, they’re all great.

One lucky commenter in June will win an autographed copy of A Red Hot New Year, four sizzling stories to ring in the New Year, including my contribution, Coming on Strong!

It’s newsletter time, which means…

Rackety Kate and the Pirates

Chapter 9

Harlot Heaven

The story so far:

Having arrived at Sweet Sisters Isle, Kate is finding it difficult to fight the buzz of magic in her blood, let alone cope with Jack’s distracting, sexy presence or the sight of Duka mastering the Duchess. To her surprise, Jack gives her the choice as to what they do next. And she thought he only had one thing on his mind…

The path through the jungle was as lovely as everything else on Sweet Sisters Isle, deeply shaded, the deep, fine sand pleasantly cool between Kate’s bare toes. Every now and then it narrowed, and she had the guilty pleasure of watching the flex of Jack’s muscular buttocks, swinging along in front of her.

Great ass, observed the husky-voiced Harlot. Biteable.

The air shimmered at the edges of Kate’s vision, as if a large dragon-fly had just whisked out of existence. She jerked around, but there was nothing to be seen, only the feathery fronds of jungle plants-and what was that? An orchid?

Smiling, Kate reached out to stroke her fingertips over the thick, creamy petals. The lilac coloured throat emitted a low mewl of pleasure.

“Aaargh!” She jumped back, and Jack’s arms slid around her waist from behind, reassuringly strong and solid.

“Relax, Kate,” a deep voice purred in her ear. It’s just the magic.”

“But it made a noise!”

“So what? It likes you.” He nuzzled her cheek. “You’re a vortex for the magic. It’s drawn to you. I can see it swirling all over your head and shoulders. Rather like a halo.” He gave a decidedly devilish chuckle. “One I intend to tarnish, good and proper.”

Before Kate could think of a suitably scathing reply, he took her hand, lacing their fingers together, tugging her along. “C’mon, just a little further.”

A narrow path branched upward and Jack took it at a rapid pace, his hand strong in hers.

The air grew warm and steamy and the chuckle of water falling on stone filled the air. The vegetation grew positively luxuriant - rampant vines looped over silky tree trunks, flowers bloomed profusely, everywhere she looked, in every possible shade of pastel, gleaming in iridescent tones from cream to violet and back again. And it smelled - God, it smelled absolutely divine!

Despite herself, Kate’s eyes filled with tears. When she saw Jack had turned to stare, she dashed a hand across her eyes. “Don’t say it,” she snarled. “I’m a sentimental fool.”

Jack said nothing, but he bent his handsome head and pressed a gentle kiss to her brow. Then he ushered her through a tumbledown arch made of honey-gold stone.

All the breath punched out of Kate’s lungs.

They stood on the lip of a pool of clear water, as green as jade. It lay like a jewel in the dappled sunlight, tendrils of steam drifting above the surface in slow arabesques. For all the world, it looked as though a team of ancient Greek sculptors had completed half the coping and then become bored and wandered off, leaving the rest to Nature. Marble steps descended into the translucent depths, and a statue of a gracefully bending maiden emptied an urn into the pool, the long stream of falling water as smooth and beautiful as the finest Venetian glass. Rather to Kate’s surprise, the maiden was decorously clad in a flowing tunic that left one stone shoulder bare.

“Do you like it?” Jack smiled at her and for a moment, Kate thought she could glimpse the boy in the man.

She could only nod, lost for words, her eyes still stinging with an emotion she didn’t understand.

A warm palm rubbed gentle circles over her spine. “You need this, pretty Kate. Think of it as the gift of the Sweet Sisters - peace, at least for a little while.”

“P-peace?”

Want more? You can read all of Kate and see more pirates on the Rackety Kate page.

Want even more than that? Join my newsletter - see below.

Subscribers to my newsletter get to interfere with Kate’s love life. Sign up to join the fun!

One lucky commenter in June will win an autographed copy of A Red Hot New Year, four sizzling stories to ring in the New Year, including my contribution, Coming on Strong!