I saw a t-shirt that said “Mother of Dragons” – of course from the HBO series Game of Thrones. As soon as I laid eyes on that shirt I was instantly in lust. I am the Mother of Dragons! Me me me! Not that upstart in the desert, carting three baby dragons around. Who has loved dragons all her life? Who was born in the year of the dragon? Who can’t stop writing about those scaly, ferocious, wonderful creatures? And I want one of those t-shirts. Bad.
Speaking of…it’s time for the emergence of more dragons! Nareen of the Draca is doing well, thank you for asking. Here is a link to her latest enthusiastic review on Amazon: Amazon Review for Nareen of the Draca.
The paranormal creatures in Portland are all out and about and shouting for me to get busy telling their stories. Here’s a sneak peak of a work in progress titled:
Trust your instincts, but never forget your prayers.
-from A Tail In Two Worlds
Who are these people? Frankie stared, as she’d done since they first startled her out of sleep. The three of them were gorgeous. The men towered nearly to the ceiling of the kitchen. Orrie’s red-gold hair hung loose, across the top his broad shoulders. Rippled and thick, it swept along the bladed jaw line, brushed back over a high forehead. Dark green eyes with deeply hooded lids watched her through slits that glinted something. Something that made her stomach clench, her breath catch. Both of them. All of them.
The men responded to her stares by returning the perusal with such slow, heated appraisal her face warmed. Their beauty rattled her wits. Caen seemed the most severe, his entire visage darker. Auburn-red hair pulled back tight and secured in a thick mass with string. Slashes of black eyebrows, higher check bones than Orrie, yet they seemed related. A resemblance of energy if nothing else.
Maeven glowed. Her gorgeousness on the feminine side took Frankie’s breath away. Maeven, nearly as tall as the men, exuded a sinewy, sensual energy, along with a coiled barely held back sense of impatience. She tapped her long fingertips on the table, taking sips of her tea. All three of them carried an aura of something shiny; nearly unreal in feeling, and a mix of darkly sensual energy. If she could just get her brain in order, figure out what happened to her out there, maybe she’d make more sense. Of everything…
All right then! Time for this Mother of Dragons to get busy. Many little dragons to chase and kiss…