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Wednesday Randomness: If You Could Pack Up & Leave on Vaca Today…

This week’s topic is…If you could pack up and leave on vacation today, where would you be off to? Easy answer. I would head back to the UK & Ireland in a heartbeat. I would rent a little cottage somewhere and write, and periodically take day trips to see all the things. 🙂


Bronwyn Green | Gwendolyn Cease | Siobhan Muir

September 2018 Song Fic – “Need the Sun to Break” (Dark of Morning lyrics) – James Bay

This month’s song is James Bay’s “Need the Sun to Break”.

Going off the chorus this time around:

I need the sun to break, you’ve woken up my heart
I’m shaking, all my luck could change
Been in the dark for weeks and I’ve realized you’re all I need
And I hope that I’m not too late,
I hope I’m not too late

This is gonna be a short one… Mostly due to the fact I’m a dirty procrastinator, and I have to get up early to run hubs to the airpot…and I desperately need sleep. LOL

So, here we go…


After the door closed and silence fell, I moved over to the coffee table and sat down facing the couch and the man stretched out on it. Exhaustion weighed heavily, but I couldn’t think of sleep. Not now.

I sighed and reached out to take Cam’s hand, cradling it between mine. This wasn’t how I expected our reunion to go. Oh, I hadn’t expected anything to go smoothly. I’m not an idiot. I’d imagined yelling, slammed doors, tense talks… And I’d hoped it would end with us back together. Hoped, not counted on.

Of course, I hadn’t expected to come back and find Cam in the middle of a shitstorm that defied all explanation. Now, my main focus wasn’t repairing the relationship I’d spectacularly ruined. It was keeping this man safe, keeping him alive.

Right now, though, the only thing I could do was wait for him to wake up. And hope he could fill in the blanks of what I already knew about his abduction, captivity, and what had happened since. And clue me in on how the fuck he was able to do what I’d seen him do earlier.

I leaned forward and brought his hand to my lips. Pressing my lips to his knuckles, I closed my eyes. After all that, we could figure us out. If there was an us… Until then, I could only hope, as I had been for months, that I wasn’t too late.


Bronwyn Green | Gwendolyn Cease | Kris Norris

Wednesday Randomness: Promptly Penned #32

It’s time for September’s Promptly Penned. This month’s prompt is: You’re in an interrogation room. A man walks in and throws a bunch of photographs on the table in front of you. The photos are old and were taken at different points in history. You’re in each one. He demands to know who you are.

This was the perfect prompt to fit into my Albion’s Circle series. So, here we go.


~Merlin~

Eyes closed, I focused on my breathing. It was over, finally. I’d spent the last week cleaning up Mordred’s mess. Now, I could rest easily that nothing with his taint remained or influenced anyone or anything.

Of course, now that it was over, that meant I was alone. And nothing could distract me from that cruel fact. My chest ached as I drew in another long breath. It wasn’t the first time, and likely wouldn’t be the last. But I’d hoped. Even knowing, accepting, that we couldn’t come out of the ages old battle with Mordred without casualties, I’d still hoped and prayed that someone would be left behind with me. While preparing for the opposite.

But even preparing didn’t diminish the overwhelming press of anger and grief. Yes, we had prevailed—Mordred was defeated, again, this time around—but Annwyl was still lost. And Arthur…Morgana…the knights. I wouldn’t see them again until the next life. All I could do now was wait. And I hated every second of it.

“Mr. Eliad, thank you for coming in. I’m Detective Andrews.”

I opened my eyes, watching the tall, fair-haired man enter and close the door behind him. “You’re welcome, though I was hardly given a choice, detective.”

“Well,” he lifted one shoulder as he sat across from me, “thank you for coming in so calmly, then.”

“Mm hmm.” I folded my hands and rested them on the metal table and straightened in the less-than-comfortable chair. “Perhaps you could let me know what this is about?”

“You were seen near the site of the explosion in the warehouse district last week.” When I didn’t answer, he sighed and laid the folder he held on the surface between us. He withdrew a couple of photos and set them, one by one, in front of me. “You were caught on camera. You look injured, covered in dirt or soot.”

I glanced down at the pictures. Though grainy, they were clearly of me. And certainly not at my best. I met his gaze and lifted a brow, remaining silent.

“Could you tell me what you were doing in the area?” he asked.

“Just walking around.”

“Really?” He snorted. “You just happened to walking around an area that had practically been leveled, looking like you’d barely made it out of said area?”

“Yep.”

“Why were you so dirty, then? You strike me as a fairly well-kept person.” He gestured towards the clothing I currently wore then tapped one of the photos. “Nothing like this.”

“I’d been gardening before my walk. It’s messy work.” I couldn’t hold back the smirk curving my mouth.

“Messy work?” He pursed his lips then nodded. Opening the folder, he continued, “I did some digging and found that you often find yourself around ‘messy work’. Nearby the wreckage of another explosion, the fallout of an earthquake that decimated half a city out west, evacuating another city from a horrendous flood…” As he spoke, he flipped picture after picture toward me.

I lifted one, stared at my own face—filthy, grief-stricken, exhausted. This photo was a copy of a one from decades ago. This was more than just a little digging, and something this detective—or anyone else—shouldn’t have access to.

“Where did you get these?” I demanded, voice soft and steady.

“That’s not important. What I want to know is how you’re in all these photos—because as impossible as it seems, they’re all of you! What did you have to do with the explosions last week? Good men and women died, and I want answers!” He slapped a palm on the stack of photos…and looked vaguely disappointed when I didn’t jump or outwardly react. “Mr. Eliad, you need to start talking. The truth now, not some inane tale of gardening and walks.”

“The truth?” I laughed harshly. “Okay, the truth is my name isn’t Eliad. I just took that name this time around. My first name is Merlin, though—I bet that seemed odd to you, right? Not exactly a common name, nowadays. Well, I wasn’t named for the famous wizard in all the stories. I am him. I am King Arthur’s Magical—yes, the King Arthur. And the truth that you want so desperately is nothing like those stories, which for the most part are ridiculous, and I had a hell of a fun time making them up.

“I, along with my king and others, are brought back to fight Mordred—another familiar name, yes?—and save this wretched Earth and its people, time and time again. That was what was happening last week, and that was just the final battle. This time, we’ve been fighting for months, and now, I am tired. I’ve lost people, as well, Detective Andrews, and now that the mission is complete, I would like my time to remember and grieve for those lost…including those good men and women you mentioned.”

“You’ve got to be—”

I waved a hand between us, and he froze. Rubbing my aching temples, I stared down at the photos. “Though it seems I’m not done cleaning up quite yet. Where did you get these photos?”

“They were mailed to me,” he responded woodenly.

“All of them? Even the ones from last week?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know who sent them?”

“No.” He shook his head. “They were in large envelope. There was no note, no return address. The lab wasn’t able to find any fingerprints on the envelope or the photos so it was all a dead end.”

“For you, maybe,” I murmured. “Do you have the envelope? The original photos you received?”

“Yes, in evidence.”

“Go get them, please.”

Without a word, he stood and left the room. I stacked the photos neatly and closed them back into the folder, annoyance filling me at the inconvenience of all of this. When Detective Andrews came back in, he immediately handed me the evidence bag containing the envelope and photos. I tucked that into the folder, as well, then pushed to my feet, taking all of it with me. I met the other man’s gaze and sighed.

“You seem like a good cop, following any lead. Unfortunately, this is one case that the truth isn’t going to be revealed. Can’t be.” I reached up and touched his forehead, muttering the memory spell quickly. “Forget the photos; they don’t exist. I came in today to tell you what I saw when I was out for a walk the night of the explosion.”

I dropped my hand and cleared my throat. Andrews blinked several times then took a step back, opening the door for me.

“Thank you again, Mr. Eliad, for coming in. We appreciate your help in the matter.”

“Of course.” I strode out the room, but before leaving the building, I went to bullpen and asked where Detective Andrews’ desk was. Then, walking by it on my way out, I spoke the spell that would erase any mention of me from the good detective’s notes—both written and on his computer.

I tightened my grip on the folder as I stepped into the bright sunlight. I needed to get back home and figure out who had sent these in.

It wasn’t quite over. The mess wasn’t completely cleaned up. My grief would wait…my ever-patient companion.


Bronwyn Green | Gwendolyn Cease | Kris Norris | Siobhan Muir

Wednesday Randomness: Wordless Wednesday

Breaking the rules and using words… Didn’t have a clue what to post about so I just pulled up recent photos on my phone – some I took, some I screenshot to send to people. *shrug* It’s a hodgepodge – and more than a little indicative of my headspace lately. LOL

Ladies of the Lake Readers Group

Eden Books Kickstarter


Bronwyn Green | Gwendolyn Cease |  Siobhan Muir

September 2018 Photo Flash Fiction

Hello, all! I hope everyone had a wonderful weekend. It’s time for another photo flash fic. This is the photo we’re working with today.

Tuning out the grumbling complaints coming from the backseat, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. And held for several long seconds before slowly releasing.

She hated this day, this trip, this…this annual pilgrimage. So much. More than the kids behind her—even if they couldn’t imagine that—and for very, very different reasons.

She startled, eyes flying open as a warm, heavy hand settled on her thigh. Glancing over, she wondered what was going through his mind. He didn’t look at her, keeping focused on the road ahead, but his fingers pressed a bit more firmly, a silent message that he knew. He knew she was hurting. He knew she hated this. And he knew how important this was for all of them.

Eyes burning, she laid a hand over his, and he immediately turned his palm up to nestle against hers as their fingers intertwined.

They didn’t speak, though, and even the kids quieted, as they drew approached their destination. The silence was oppressive as the engine was shut off, and all of them just sat a moment.

“Come on.”

The hushed words from the driver’s seat spurred everyone into motion. She was the last one out, needing another couple moments to compose herself. Later, she could cry. Would cry. In the dark, wrapped in his arms, she would let go, and he would take it, like he always did.

She got out of the car and followed her family. Despite the heaviness over her, her lips quirked up slightly as she took in the sight of the tall, handsome figure of her husband, with their three children

“Where’s Mama?”

Her youngest daughter’s words floated on the air, and she quickened her stride so she could catch up.

“I’m here, baby.” She combed her fingers through the soft blonde curls as they continued.

Her breath caught as they rounded the corner. No matter how many times they came, no matter how many times she saw, she didn’t think she’d ever get over the horror that filled her every time.

The destruction before them… What had led to it… She trembled, and she couldn’t stop the tears that escaped.

“God,” her daughter—their oldest—huffed. “I don’t know why we have to be here. Every stupid year. Not like anything changes. Why couldn’t I have stayed home? This is so dumb.”

“We come to remember. Remember what happened, and what could happen again. And to remember those who were lost.” She spoke slowly, eyes still on the hollowed-out buildings mind on all the lives destroyed. Then, cutting her gaze to her daughter, who stared at her with eyes just like her father, she hardened her voice. “And to be grateful. Because of them, we’re free.”

“Mom—”

“Before all this,” she waved a hand around, “you would have to hide who you are. You wouldn’t have been free to be you. Your choice would have been to hide or to be persecuted. Or killed. Remember that when you think this is stupid.”

She swallowed thickly and walked a few feet away, closing her eyes against the tears, chest aching horribly. She needed to get it together. Falling apart wasn’t an option. Later, she reminded herself again. Not now, not when she could sense others coming—to also pay their respects and remember.

A soft caress on her cheek and a sweet smell pulled her out of her thoughts. She opened her eyes to find a bright daisy hovering in the air in front of her. She turned her head to watch as her eldest daughter, hand outstretched, lower lip caught between her teeth, manipulate the flower until it was tucked behind her mother’s ear.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”


Bronwyn Green | Gwendolyn Cease | Kris Norris | Siobhan Muir

Monthly Check-in: August 2018

So, August has been a mixed bag, to be honest. Isn’t that just life, though?

My month began at Bronwyn Green’s house. Her family put up with me for over a week – we went out to sushi with Jenny Trout and both their daughters, we headed to Ann Arbor for a signing and had lots of fun exploring and hanging out….and it was honestly just what I needed at the time.

Sadly, all the driving (to the family reunion, to Bron’s, to Ann Arbor and back) then flying home, THEN driving into northern MN for family camping with the hubs’ side of the family, when I got home… Well, it wasn’t pretty, friends. Not even a little. I flared pretty bad, had a lot of pain, and wasn’t able to do much of anything. My hopes of finishing a book this month pretty much died at that point.

BUT…sucky as it was, it didn’t last forever, and I’m mostly back to normal. Just in time for the kiddos to start school this past week. LOL Luckily, they are all taking college classes, and two of the four have their own cars now, so it’s much easier on me than say last year – then, I felt like I lived in my car as I ferried kids to and fro.

I’ve been writing the past couple days, getting back into the habit of daily writing. That is what I want to continue through September. So…

  • Daily Writing
  • Remembering the importance of self-care…and actually doing it.
  • All scheduled blog posts.

And before I sign off…today, is a super special day for me. It’s the hubs’ and my anniversary. The ridiculously awesome man has survived being married to me for 22 years (has put up with me for 24!). So happy anniversary to the best man I know.

And something to look forward to? September is…

HAMILTON MONTH!!!!!!

I canNOT wait!!!


Bronwyn 

Wednesday Randomess: Top 10 Places I Want to See Before I Die

Time for another Top 10! This is going to be short and sweet…’cause words are actually flowing right now, so I’m going to get back to it!

So, in no particular order, here are the top ten places I want to see before I die…


Bronwyn Green | Gwendolyn Cease | Kris Norris | Siohbhan Muir 

Wednesday Randomness: The Best Thing I’ve Read This Summer

Hello and happy Wednesday!

Well, the banner says it all – I have been a bad blogger lately, and as I sat down to write this post, I realized, this summer, I haven’t been much better with the reader. Which is really odd for me, because reading has always been my go to activity whenever possible. Well, I say it’s odd, but I know exactly why I haven’t been reading, but it still sucks big time.

So, needless to say, I was having a hard time coming up with something because there wasn’t anything to share, really. Well, that isn’t ENTIRELY true. I’ve read lots of fanfic.

One, I love fanfic.  Seriously, LOVE. Two, none of my ships (in my vast Jarmada) will ever, EVER be canon so fanfic is where I get all the yumminess. And, three, with as crazy as things have been (and that may be a topic for another blog post some day), I haven’t had a lot of time to read, so when I do catch a few minutes, fanfic is perfect because they’re shorter and I can read one in a couple minutes (Of course, there are longer works, but don’t have time for those either, so my Marked for Later list is HUGE…almost as huge as my TBR list/pile of books).

So yeah…fanfic. That’s what I’ve been reading here and there through the summer. I highly recommend. 😀

On of my fave pairings is from The Flash. I hardcore ship Barry Allen/Leonard Snart (aka The Flash/Captain Cold). It hasn’t replaced Merthur (Merlin/Arthur) in my heart but it is a close second. My oldest kiddo knows this well, and he is totally awesome and sent me a Captain Cold for my birthday. Then, in Michigan, I found myself The Flash.

So…since I’ve been home. Barry and Leonard have been chilling on the shelf in my writing corner. The the tension has been growing between them…I feel it. 😉

And, when I let them out of their boxes…whew!

And, well, it was bound to happen. 

Um…

Yeah, sometimes, I have to remind myself I am a real grown-up person…


Bronwyn Green | Gwendolyn Cease

Wednesday Randomness: Behind the Scenes of my Current Project

Happy Wednesday!

I’ve been having a helluva time figuring out what I’m going to share in this little sneak peak/behind the scenes look at my current project. Mostly because I’m at a point where I’m not solid on everything yet. I’m still figuring my way around these characters and story.

But there are a few things I can share – that I won’t change, for sure.

This is an MM story.

The 2 heroes – Cameron and Jameson – have a romantic past together. And it didn’t end well.

Some bad shit – non-relationship stuff – happens in Cameron’s life. He went missing for months before turning up again, seemingly healthy and well…and with no memories of the months prior. He’s dealing with things the best he can – the amnesia, the fears and anxieties that grip him now, reintegrating back into the world with his work, friends and family, and coming to terms with what was done to him. And, of course, this is when Jameson bursts back into his life. Jameson, who is determined to figure out what happened to Cameron and whether he is still in danger. He also has some very strong ideas about what Cameron should be doing to keep himself safe.

Long story short – lots of conflict and issues (past and present) between these two, but the attraction is still very, VERY much there. And I’ll spoil this for you…they act on it. Mm hmmm.

 

And that is what I’m working on. 🙂


Bronwyn Green | Siobhan Muir

Monthly Check-in: July 2018

Wow, July is coming to a close. *shakes head*

So…checkin’ in…

This month has had it’s ups and downs, but more ups than downs, so I will take it. I’m writing regularly, making progress. And that is huge. After the last year of having difficulty getting anything writing-related done – yup…HUGE.

I turned forty. *shrugs* I know it’s supposed to be a big thing, but, eh, it was a birthday. The best part about it, though, was the hubs got me Hamilton tickets for this fall! YAY!!

More frightening than the 4-0 is, on Sunday, my daughter is turning 18. That is three out of four kiddos that are 18 and older and graduated.

I’m writing this super late Thursday night as I pack up and prepare to go camping this weekend. Should be a great time with the family – including extended. Then, on Sunday, Bron’s coming up to get me for…

a week and a half stay at her house!

So I’m going to start my August out right. Which will put me in good form to accomplish my one big goal for the month – FINISH A DAMNED BOOK.

Seriously, that’s it. That is all I want to accomplish.


Bronwyn Green