PG Tips every time. Or Wine.
How do you keep everything straight? Especially when you have characters from different books fighting for attention.
Scrivener works for me. When an idea shouts at you for another book, you can create index cards, note down the ideas, and then file them in each story folder. You can then go back to the original story you were working on. You can even jump about in that story, if an idea for a great scene pops into your head and you can’t wait to jot it down.
How do you feel when it comes time to end the story? Sad? Happy? Relieved?
All three generally. The ending of a story is difficult. I’m never sure if the ending is the one I originally had in mind, because the characters tend to wander off the track somewhat.
The Shadow Worlds are dying. Can two sworn enemies manage to get past their differences and ignore their burning attraction to each other long enough to save them?
Brandon is a Weaver, a member of an old, powerful race. His discovery that Master Weavers are disappearing, presumed murdered, is a shock. Even more so when he realises that the person responsible is not actually a person at all, but a Revenant, and worse, the creature also known as the Abomination.
Things are not quite how they seem, however.
Jaime is a Revenant, a creature born from death and designed to do his Master's bidding. He's been living in the shadows for years. Now, the Shadow Worlds are dying, Weavers are disappearing, and Jamie is no longer the only Revenant to survive their Master.
Can these two men ignore the hatred, and the passion, that burns between them, and work together to find out just what is happening to the Universe around them?
They must uncover age old secrets of the Weavers, and defeat enemies who are closer to them than they'd realised.
It was only when Jamie was twenty minutes late that Brandon began to worry that where they ended up might not be a problem, because Jamie just wasn’t going to show. Damn! He’d been so sure Jamie had been pulled under by the same tide of lust that had flowed through him that he hadn’t even considered that Jamie wouldn’t show tonight, especially as Brandon had sent them both home with unsatisfied desire fizzing through their bodies. He’d figured that Jamie would at least show tonight in the hope of getting laid. Brandon decided to give him ten more minutes’ grace.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he eventually spotted Jamie walking through the entrance of the bar, his tinted glasses firmly in place and a strange expression of something that looked almost like resignation on his face. Brandon saw him glance over at the bar, his head turning slightly as he swept his gaze along its length, spotting Brandon almost immediately. Brandon smiled at him and half raised his hand in greeting, letting it fall when no answering smile touched Jamie’s lips. Instead he squared his shoulders, almost as though he was preparing for a fight, and headed over to where Brandon sat.
Brandon determinedly kept a smile of welcome on his face as Jamie sat down next to him. “Buy you a drink, cowboy?” he asked. Jamie looked at him briefly and shrugged.
“Sure,” he said. “Why not?”
Brandon frowned. “Is there something wrong, Jamie?” he asked, trying to sound no more than a little concerned. “Bad day?”
Jamie laughed, but there was a bitter edge to it. “Jamie? What’s wrong?”
“Not so much a bad day as a bad fuckin’ century, man,” Jamie told him, a bone deep
weariness edging his words. ”Don’t mind me, I’ll get over it.”
“You wanna maybe grab some dinner? Maybe go somewhere we could actually eat
without having to call in the Health Department?” The bartender obviously heard Brandon’s words, because he muttered something under his breath and glared at the two of them.
“Sure, why not?” Jamie replied without much enthusiasm, not even noticing the bartender.
“Once more with feeling, maybe?” Brandon asked wryly. That seemed to jolt Jamie out of his funk a little, and he looked at Brandon, an apologetic expression on his face. Brandon held up his hand to forestall whatever Jamie was about to say. “Let’s get outta here, go somewhere we can sit and eat and talk a little, then you can tell me all about what’s bothering you.”
“You turn into Dear Abby or somethin’?” Jamie asked, with the closest thing to a smile Brandon had seen on his face since he’d arrived at the bar.
“Or somethin’.” Brandon smiled just wide enough to let his dimples show a little, gratified when Jamie blinked in bewilderment. “C’mon, let’s go. I know just the place.” Brandon got up off his stool and dropped some money on the bar to pay for his beer.
“You would. I have a feeling you know most of the places.” But he got up off his seat and followed Brandon out of the bar and into the sunshine and haze of an early LA summer evening.
The steak house Brandon had chosen was quiet and intimate, and Jamie tried to throw off his bad mood. He’d deliberated for a long time before deciding to keep his date with Brandon. After all, it was one more date then he wouldn’t ever see the guy again. The meeting with the Stepfords still preyed on his mind, Mia’s words still echoing in his ears. He really shouldn’t care, but, for some reason, he’d been feeling strange all afternoon. He nearly hadn’t come to meet Brandon, thinking he’d be better off, that they’d both be better off, if Jamie just disappeared. The problem was that he couldn’t forget the attraction that had lain between them, couldn’t get Brandon’s face out of his mind, and so he’d decided once again to throw caution to the winds and meet him for a final time. With any luck, he might get laid tonight, and that might ease some of the tension he was feeling.
He’d arrived at the Round House an hour before he was supposed to meet Brandon, and had grabbed a beer, lurking behind a pillar way in the back of the bar, towards the bathrooms. He’d seen Brandon come in, and seen him scanning the bar. Jamie had presumed Brandon was searching for him, but hadn’t come forward. Brandon might be a trap and not even know it. Jamie wasn’t coming forward until he was happy that there were no Weavers
or any other Revenants about. He’d spent three-quarters of an hour with his senses carefully extended in a net around the bar, but he hadn’t been able to sense anything suspicious.
He’d finally made his way outside, easily snapping open the rusted lock on the employees’ entrance, and had headed back into the bar through the front door, looking around as though he was searching for Brandon. He hadn’t bothered to apologise for being late, and was determined to be as remote and unfriendly as possible, trying to see if he could put him off, or if Brandon’s attraction to him was just as strong as Jamie’s to him. Or maybe he was just intent on taking his bad mood out on him.
It appeared that the attraction had worked both ways, though, and when the waitress sat them in the small booth at the steak house, Brandon made no effort to pull himself back out of Jamie’s personal space. Instead he seemed to take pleasure in sliding one leg between Jamie’s, his knee resting high between Jamie’s thighs. Jamie tried to make himself as small as possible, but he couldn’t escape Brandon’s long arms stretching across the table, and the fact that his foot was trapped between the table leg and one of Brandon’s feet. Jamie was beginning to feel suffocated, the scent of arousal was so overwhelming. He took a deep breath and swallowed the feeling back down, focusing on the menu while he tried to get himself under control.
He was so distracted that he didn’t remember to order his half portions, and ended up with a huge plate of steak, fries, mushrooms and a salad. He looked at it in dismay, prompting Brandon to ask if there was anything wrong. Jamie glanced at him, shaking his head slowly. “No, everything’s fine, it’s just I don’t have a huge appetite.”
Brandon laughed, a mile-wide grin splitting his face, “That’s fine, Jamie,” he said. “Believe me, I could out-eat a football team, so there won’t be any leftovers.”
Jamie looked up at him in amazement. “Your steak’s already twice as big as mine anyway. You’re gonna eat that, and finish mine off?”
Brandon nodded, humming in agreement, and still grinning. “Swear to God,” and he laid his hand on his heart, his face switching to solemnity for a split second.
Jamie laughed, his smile coming free and easy for the first time that evening. “Bet you can’t,” he challenged. Brandon’s grin grew sly, an edge of heat touching it.
“And if I win?” he asked, his voice dropping a few octaves. Jamie gave a slight shudder, something he hoped Brandon hadn’t noticed.
“I have no idea,” he admitted. Judging from the look in his eyes, Brandon hadn’t missed a thing.
“Maybe I should get to choose the forfeit?” Brandon mused. “Something...appropriate.” Jamie felt the ball of heat in his belly squirm, and just like that, the temperature around the table rose twenty degrees.
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-brewing-storm-e-j-sutter/1115700285?ean=9781781843505