The Rabbit and the Fox & Bears and Elves?


2 Excerpts:

The Rabbit and the Fox
Melba Moon

It had been years since he’d been this close to home. RT McCombs drove south along the Blue Ridge Parkway. He’d left Bakersfield four months ago, following the trail left by the hacker who’d stolen information from his clients, information they wanted back. He’d been closing in on her in Nashville when she’d vanished. It had taken months and a new linguistics data analysis tracker to pick up her trail.

The drive through the Chattahoochee National Forest signaled he’d soon be on familiar home ground. The word tasted strange on his tongue. Was it home, really? Would it ever be home again? Bitterness filled his mouth. No, Nantahala wasn’t home. It hadn’t been for many years. He’d stayed away, would still be away if this job hadn’t dragged him back. He pressed the button on the wheel to activate his Bluetooth device. He’d make the obligatory call to Jason, the head of the Southern Dominion, and let him know he was back, if only briefly. His older brother liked to keep his thumb on the pulse of the collective, so he wouldn’t appreciate a stray wandering into his territory, even if the stray was his baby brother. The call went to voicemail and RT hung up without leaving a message. Time enough to contact his brother after he arrived in Nantahala.
Tracking the little rabbit from Reno to Nashville had been easy, but just when he’d been ready to spring, something had spooked her and she’d gone underground. She’d cleaned out her bank account, what little there had been in it, and gone off the grid. Using the new tech tracking software he’d developed, he’d finally picked up her trail. Damnedest thing, the little bunny had surfaced in Nantahala, Georgia. This time she wouldn’t get away. She’d landed right in his home territory. He knew the area like the back of his hand. He’d grown up here. His family lived here. Never mind that he hadn’t been home in years. Nothing ever changed in Nantahala. The Dominion, old as the forest itself, still sheltered there.

Old secrets, traditions and values flourished here. Home, he’d come home. As a courtesy he’d stop by the Homestead and let his mother know he was in town. Then he would find out just what she was up to in an out-of-the-way little town like Nantahala.
The homestead, tucked into the side of Panther’s Peek, looked just like any other expensive vacation cabin nestled against a mountainside, but RT knew better. The large rustic cabin with two storied glass walls looking over the valley below hid a secret, one that no outsider ever learned about, the Southern Dominion.

What had once been little more than a fox hole in the side of the mountain had expanded to a cavernous size and housed the headquarters of the southern collective. From there Jason ran the Dominion as the mega consortium it had grown into, with few outsiders any the wiser. Hundreds called the Dominion home, and at any given moment dozens housed there. The entire southern half of the mountain was honeycombed with warrens.

RT turned off the Blue Ridge Parkway heading home. He let the windows down and drew in deep breaths of the fresh mountain air. His body responded to the fresh fragrance of Spring in the mountains, his skin tingled, the hair along the back of his neck stood on end. The animal in him stretched and pushed, seeking freedom. Too long, it complained. Too long since it had been allowed to run free. Soon, RT promised and clamped iron hard will on the little rogue seeking to escape. He turned south, leaving the Parkway and heading toward the Georgia line and home. His nose twitched with the familiar scents of the North Georgia Mountains. He picked up Highway 19 and drove faster, his instincts sharpened. The air carried
the very embodiment of the Dominion. Only a member of the collective would recognize the subtle essence wafting through the gentle mountain breeze. His brethren gathered more than usual. Their pungent scents carried on the wind. Only his sensitive nose allowed him to separate and identify each individual. They were moving south like he was, converging on the encampment. He scented links, wolf, bear, deer, beaver and more, all moving steadily toward the Dominion.
Something was up.


Tears for the Past
Georgiana Fields

For being early spring, the stifling heat had Douglas Benge dripping in sweat. Of course wearing a fur coat on the inside didn’t help matters. He inhaled, taking in the smells of the forest and the stench of the gut pile at his feet. Flies swarmed around the mess. He noted a few maggots squirming on what he made out to be the large intestines, so the body wasn’t that old. At least scavengers hadn’t carried it off.
“What’s your take, Doug?” Mathew Autry asked. “You know Mayor Dumbass is going to have a field day with this.”
Doug chuckled. There was no love lost between the Sheriff and Nantahala’s mayor, David Wolverton. Those two have been at each other since high school. And they thought bears held grudges. “From the scent, I’d say we have another bear mauling. My question is, where the hell is the rest of the body?”
“I can answer that question, gentlemen,” a woman said as she stepped from behind a bush.
“This is a crime scene!” Mat yelled.
“Detective Isabell Halifax, GBI.” She flipped out her badge. “My partner is at the other scene.”
“GBI?” Mat crossed his arms over his chest. “This is my town, my crime scene.”
Of Mountains and Mysteries
“And you are?”
“Sheriff Mathew Autry and my Deputy Doug Benge. I did not notify the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. So what the hell are you doing here?”
“That is correct, sir.” The woman glanced between Mat and Doug.
Doug took in the woman’s healthy figure and muscular arms. Her light brown hair she’d pulled back into a ponytail. He noticed she wasn’t painted up, either. He couldn’t understand why women thought they had to cover-up their beauty with paint. He breathed her scent deep into his lungs. Human, with an overlaying scent of something lethal. He inhaled again, trying to distinguish the scent. His canines lengthened and his nails itched. One thing for sure, she wasn’t a frigging bloodsucker, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t in league with them.
“I don’t plan to seize your crime scene, Sheriff Autry. This happened to be my weekend off. I wasn’t expecting to stumble onto a murder.” She glanced between Mat and Doug. “As you said, Deputy, bear attacks are on the increase. Looks as if you have a rouge with a wicked sense of humor.” She turned and pushed through the thick underbrush.
“It’s either Sheriff or Mat, you can call me sheriff.” Mat grumbled something about intruders and uppity GBI agents as he followed the detective. “You coming, Doug? Or are you just going to stand there?”
Yep, it was going to be one of those days. Doug trudged through the underbrush. His keen hearing picked up a murmured conversation up ahead. Sounded like Mat was pissed again. Nothing new there. Hell, Mat had been more of a bear than Doug since Mat’s 13-year-old son Gabriel took an interest in Wolverton’s 15-year-old daughter, Arabella. That was saying a lot, seeing Mat was human.
Doug stepped into a clearing at the edge of Crying Woman Falls, where his sight promptly fell on the Elf, leaning against a tree. Doug knew he’d scented danger on the woman.
Isabell whirled around in time to see the deputy shift into the largest frigging bear she’d seen in her life. The massive black bear reared back, standing on his hind legs. He had to be over ten feet tall, and she guesstimated he weighed about eight hundred pounds.
She was so dead.
But instead of killing her, he batted the sheriff, knocking him several feet backward. To make matters worse, her partner, Rowan, decided to fling a fireball at the bear. She snatched her firearms, pointing one at Rowan and the other at the deputy.
“I will so pepper your asses if you don’t put your dicks away, or would you both prefer I hand you a magnifying glass so you can see who has the biggest?”
“Damn, lady, I like your gumption,” the Sheriff cachinnated. Once he’d gained control of his laughter he pushed to his feet then stomped out the small brush fire Rowan started. “Doug, shift back.” The Sheriff cocked a black eyebrow at her. “Hope you don’t mind a little nudity.”
“Not at all. Seen one prick, seen them all.”
“You haven’t see—”
“No, not a word.” She cut off Rowan’s comment. She wasn’t in the mood to hear what he had to say, not after spilling her coffee, then refusing to get her another cup. The man knew she couldn’t function without her morning dose of caffeine.



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I am borrowing this one!

Beth Warstadt

I come from a long line of grudge-holders. With a few remarkable exceptions, my family members have turned blaming others for their unhappiness into a fine art. Which is why something I heard today in the movie “The Light Between Oceans” means more to me than merely another line in another movie.

Rachel Weisz’s character is married to a German man in Australia in the years after World War I. He is not a very popular guy, so in addition to the hardships he faced in Germany during the war, he is treated badly by the people where he lives, including being shunned  by his wife’s family.  She asks him why he is such a happy person in spite of all that he has endured. He answers:

You only have to forgive once. To resent, you have to do it all day, every day, all the time. You have to…

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Growing up Overby in the 1940’s and 50’s

Growing up in the 40’s and 50’s in Augusta, Georgia.

Mama and Daddy at 22Mary Parents RET 0008

When I was a kid Daddy drove a truck for the Augusta Arsenal and Mama was a homemaker. I really don’t remember living at my grandmama’s house, but I do remember staying with her when Mama had my sister, Carolyn. I was 3 ½ and stayed there for several days while Mama spend the usual 3 days in the hospital and then was on bed rest at Grandmama’s house. Mama didn’t have easy pregnancies. She grew up next door to  McKeown’s Florist in Augusta, Georgia. That Florist played a part in my parent’s meeting.

Mama’s sisters gave me plenty of attention while Daddy worked and went to the hospital to see the baby.  I slept with Grandma and the baby slept between Mama and Daddy. That I really do remember. There was a lot of snoring at night!

We had a small house in a neighborhood of houses build for married families of soldiers. That I learned later was a version of the “projects”.

We were a one-car family, which I believe was true of most families at that time. Mama didn’t drive. She loved to tell everyone I liked riding the bus to town and to see Grandma. I do not remember entertaining the other bus passengers, but she declared that I would stand in the front of buses and sing “Jesus Loves Me” and tell stories. We must have made an interesting picture, since she was all of 4’ 10 1/2” and I weighted 30 pounds by the time I started school. I was the smallest one in each class every year.


Mary Sister 8x10 0009

I remember having to watch my little sister while Mama cooked. She would sit me in a kid size rocking chair and put my sister in my lap. Then she’d tie us in, so I wouldn’t drop the baby and she could watch us. I was all of four and that wasn’t my favorite thing to do. I do not remember a playpen or a crib at that time. Check the image of her in my lap. there was 3 1/2 years difference in our ages.

Daddy helped Grandmamma deliver flowers that had to be on people’s doorsteps or at hospitals and churches on Christmas morning. Santa was pretty tired by the time he and Mrs. Clause put our toys under our tree but they were there when we got up. !

More to come!

Follow Mary Marvella on Twitter @mmarvellab

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Time for a Sale! 99 Cents for 7 Days Only

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Blogging again! Romance Lives Forever. Drew faces Kayelle with honest anwers

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The Perfect Book To Put You in a Thanksgiving Mood!

Some folks happily go home for Thanksgiving or host their families, excited to see everyone. What if you haven’t gone home for a holiday in years? What if you have gone home but found being with family stressful? Some of the characters in this book love holidays and look forward to them. Others have been estranged and dread going home.

You will love this book with its stories of family, love, and reconciliation. Some stories will surprise you! All will involve you!

One young man has been away in prison. One woman resents her stepmother. Could you forgive your sister for trying to seduce your fiance? Would you allow your EX husband to share Thanksgiving with your family? Go grab this book!

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The Cost of Deception: Can You Forgive a Man Who Lies?

Could you forgive a man who deceived you?

In The Cost of Deception Tess has to face such a situation.  She’s a widow with two teens. Can she forgive the man who moves into her house and makes love to her, the man her teens have learned to love, the man who could have put her and her kids in danger?

Drew tells Tess he’s an insurance investigator who had burned out and wants to be a substitute teacher to decide whether he wanted to become a teacher or not. He can’t tell or her he’s an undercover cop whose enemies might come after her family if they find where who he is and where he is. It’s not a likely situation, since he has been careful. But it could happen. For that reason he plans to leave as soon as his job in her town is finished and the drug dealers are in prison.

How can he expect her to forgive him?’


It was late and Drew nursed a glass of watered down whiskey as he stared at his reflection in the mirrored wall behind the bar. He looked like a renegade. The scraggly, black beard and the tinted lenses hid what was on the outside.

Why do bars have so much mirror space? True, he could see what was going on behind him, as well as anyone who approached him. He hoped to see the man who would be his connection in his current investigation. He could also see too much of himself, which wasn’t much help tonight. He couldn’t stop the mental reflections any more than he could the ones in the mirror.

Not since he left home had he worn glasses, except when he needed a disguise. He wasn’t the skinny wimp he’d been in high school or even during his first years at Georgia Tech. Now few men dared tease the muscular man who filled the black tee shirt and stretched the short sleeves rolled a notch over the bulge of his upper arm. The forearm he saw in the mirror looked lethal as veins bulged each time he flexed his hand. Drew was a man to be feared and respected. He’d worked hard to become that man.

The first year in the army was responsible for most of the transformation to the undercover cop who answered to the name Drew. He answered to many aliases. Tonight he answered to Spider, as the sinister tattoo on one forearm would suggest.

Follow Mary Marvella on Twitter @mmarvellab








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