Sample Sunday Sept 25th

This week is another treat: Two for the price of One! First, more poetry from a guest-author, and then a snippet from one of my most daring and dangerous books: The Procurement. 



Sometimes if your in the right place at the right time you meet someone with talent. I have meet such a person: thank you Internet. So for as long as he will let me share his writing with you. I shall do just that.  Hyperion's writing covers the whole gambit of human emotions. So, I know there will be something for everyone.

*********

I want one day without dreams that make me cry
I want one day where I remember how to fly
I want one day without struggling to cope
I want one day where I still hold on to hope

*********

You are an exquisite Dusky Rose, he said. 
Her nose and cheeks wrinkled in distaste. 
He looked taken aback, eyebrow raised. 
What's a Dusty Rose? It sounds kinda grimy. 
No, a Dusky Rose, he said, smile returning.
What's the difference? Tellmetellmetellme.


One is weathered and soiled, ravaged by weeds, 
T'other flowers as the sun recedes--
And the moon takes flight; 
The Dusky Rose gains her color at night, 
Its petals spread, it's nectar sweet, 
The fragrance is intoxicating heat.


I changed my mind; that sounds great!
Good, he said. Let's celebrate with Ambrosia. 
What's that?  Another exotic flower? 
Sort of. It's Nectar of the gods. 
She still didn't quite understand, 
But soon enough, it came to her. 

*********

(And now a an snippet from The Procurement)

Frank whispered into her left ear. 

“You are not to say one word understand, not a word.”

She nodded. Thinking this would be easy there was nothing she would ever have to say this bunch jerks.

Every time someone greeted Frank she learned she was to take the position and stay until they or he moved on.

****

There was no way he would not be noticed he was tall and muscular. However, it was the commanding air about him. He strutted as if everyone needed to bow to him. And that's exactly what Frank had her do as he approached them. Only this time she remained in the kneeling position and her knees were starting to ache. They were discussing her. She wanted to spit and yell excuse me you... I'm right here, but she stayed in place and didn't finch when 'the ass' as she thought of him and she learned later was the High Master and their host, patted her head.

“Are you interested in selling her, Frank.”

Alarms went off in Frank's head, maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. No one denies the High Master.

“Not yet she still has some training to go through.”

“I know, Matt, and you have the highest reputation for excellence in that field. When her trainings complete let me know I will make you an offer you can not refuse.” He smiled at the pun. Frank knew exactly what he meant.

Finally the man stepped away and Frank almost dragged her out of the room and down the steps to the car. He remained silent and deep in thought all the way back home.

Late into the night he held her while she slept and he fretted. Trying to show her off was a big mistake and he was not sure he'd be able handle the repercussions of this night.

*********

You can buy the full story of The Procurement over on Amazon for only $0.99! 
(UK readers use this link)


And make sure to visit my Amazon Kindle and Wireless Store for all my Titles. (Unlike Frank, I know how to show off my wares!)  


Please be sweet and send a tweet. We thank you.

#SampleSunday

For many of us in the USA the weather has began to think about the cooler Fall temperatures. So don't forget to heat up your reading a notch.

Today's excerpt is taken from a series letter between Penelope and Sharon. If you haven't met Sharon she felt into Charles' brother's hand. The Kincaid brothers after the women learn who was their master were allowed to communicate. So  I hope you enjoy this piece form Mine Alone.

Mine Alone and The Kincaid Way are both available Now for sale:
http://ow.ly/6wC4A for the USA  and For UK  http://ow.ly/6wCaR

Thank you for stopping by.

Betty Carlton

SampleSunday Excerpt & A Special Guest Poet

I know many of you readers missed the double treats of an excerpt and poems or recipes. Sound the trumpets please... I found a very special gentleman who has agreed to shared some of his super writings with me and of course I must share them with you.

(Note..His Fifteenth Victim is still on the publishers top 5 best seller list. I am so proud.)

The set-up:   Owen has finally talked Sandra in to another date a real one this time. Wonder how it went?

The Ecerpt: 

On Monday night everything seemed like one of those nights nothing went right. First thing John the busboy called in sick.

Second, she dropped a whole tray of glasses. Not one of them survived the crash to the floor.

Third, while helping her, Vincent burned four peoples fries when he did not hear the timer go off. Fortunately he went back into the kitchen before anything actually caught fire or began to smoke setting off the alarms.

Then just before Owen was ready to leave Angie walked in carry Stephanie Ann.

“I got called in to work early, and you're almost off.” Betty had her arms already open the receive the baby. Betty spoke first.

“No problem she'll be Ok. We're closing soon. Go on.”

Angie handed the diaper bag to Sandra. With a quick, I'm sorry and bye she was gone.

“She growing so fast, Sandra,” she said to Sandra and to Stephanie Ann she said, “Aren't you the biggest bundle of sweetness ever?”

“Owen asked, “Babysitting?”

“You could say that. Yea.”

“Betty piped up with, “Owen, you like kids?”

“I never really though on it to be honest. I don't hate 'em that's for sure.”

“Betty shoved Stephanie Ann into his arms.”

They had the door locked and everything done five minutes early. Vincent took Sandra home.

****

According to her it was in a moment of weakness when she agreed to go out again with Owen. Betty snickered every time she saw the look of panic on Sandra's face. This felt like a real date. He picked her up at the diner. She insisted it be that way.

They ate a steak dinner at the local steakhouse and he talked her into a glass of wine. Everything went well in his opinion better than great. Is was when her took her home he learned just have great it went.

They were about two traffic lights from the diner.

“Owen, turn here at this light. Turn left,” Sandra said giving him the directions to her apartment. She lived right behind the diner. He now knew why when he sat watching for her out front he never caught her. She 'd go out the back door and walk home.

Shutting off the engine he turned toward her. A blind man could see he wanted to kiss, but he held himself in check. She rewarded him for his restraint.

“Would you like to come up for coffee?” He bounded out of the car in a flash and opened her door before she even picked up her pocketbook from the floor.

He did not need to say he was surprised when after entering the apartment he saw Angie sitting on the couch watching TV, and talking on the phone it was written on his face. He did think it odd.

“Oh, good you're back, mom's not feeling good, so I'm out’ta here see ya later.” She flew out the door.

“Was it something I said?”

Teasing him she said, “I'm sure it was. Two sugars and black, right?”

“That's right, darling.”

Ok no darlings or anything cutesy. Wishing he could call back his word after he saw her narrow her eyes and the disturbing look on her face.

She excused herself and went to the bathroom. He took the opportunity to looked around and noticed all the baby stuff. He heard a noise and it reminded him of a cat. She came from one room and entered what apparently was the bedroom. Now we're getting some where and Owen decided to follow her into the bedroom.

Thinking she did invite him in after all, maybe she has made up her mind. He did not make it to the door before she reappeared carrying Stephanie Ann.

Damn.

“Babysitting again?” Realizing he jumped the gun and should be thankful he never made it through the door. He would have made a fool of himself.

Owen was in the mist of sitting back down went and he almost missed the chair when she answered.

“No.”

“Nooo?”

“No. I not babysitting. Stephanie Ann is my daughter.”

There was a hint of mischief in her eyes.

He left after the first cup and it was only half drank.

“Well, Stephanie Ann, I don't think Owen likes BAGGAGE, and we have lots of it don't we. Honey.”

What you need the links to buy my book?

Okay, sure here there are:

USA: http://ow.ly/62sLt

UK: http://ow.ly/62sNo

Now for the treat I promised. 

Hyperion (of the Hyperion Empire)

has been writing great things 

for years and I want to thank him 

for letting us read it here on my site.

Take me away from everything that is not you
I do not recognize the life I thought I knew
Starts to taste the same - the false and the true
Take me away from everything that is not you

Hide me from myself and protect me from the pain

I'm cold and soaked but never learn to come in from the rain
The bad things pile up until there's too much to explain
Hide me from myself and protect me from the pain

All the twists and turns have brought me to this place

Exhaustion overwhelms me from staying in the race

I may not have the cleansing, even with your grace

But I will trade salvation just to gently touch your face

I will gladly cast my life and soul into the Endless Blue

Just--Take me away from everything that is not you

**********************************

And I'm sure you'll enjoy the is piece he wrote as well.

Together in the Dark

Quiet conspiratorial conversation that only lovers know.  

She keeps her voice low, but urgent.

"I was yelling at you for your implication! 

I was yelling at you for taking my craziness and using it against me. 

Mostly I was yelling at you for thinking, even for a second, 

that I would ever ever ever treat you like anyone else. 

When I never let people see me, who do I let inside my head?  

Who do I trust and tell things to I don't tell others?  

Who else would I even offer to help simply because 

the idea of you being w/out made me so sad that I couldn't speak, 

but the idea that you would be sad made me want to die?"

He grins at her, trying to make her smile. 

"I'm not someone who loves, 

at least not very easily, 

but if I loved someone, 

it'd be you. 

But for now, let's just say 

I don't wish you any specific harm."

She hits him in the chest - but gently, and nuzzles on his shoulder.

She rubs his back and purrs against him, 

making peace with the soft heat of her body, 

letting him know it is okay.

He confesses how badly he hurts sometimes. 

He always puts up a brave front, 

but finally admits his frailty, 

and she sees how much it frightens him, 

that his body could fail him in such a way. 

Her heart aches for him, 

but then he says something that makes it stop beating. 

"When the pain is at its worst, 

I find my comfort, my anchor, my rock, 

my reason for hanging on 

in thoughts of you, 

in thoughts of us."

She takes his face in her hands, holding very still, 

and even in the Dark he can see how serious she is. She says, 

"Take me now. Impale me. So deeply I can never leave. 

I can't take away your pain. I'll join you in it."

He rolls her over, growling:

"I want the taste of your skin on my tongue. 

I want the scent of you filling my head and making me buzz. 

I want my hands gently, then roughly grasping your body. 

I want you to tremble in the darkness as I reach for you. 

I want you."

For a time, they don't speak.

There are sounds they both make, 

urgent sounds, even desperate.

Then content. 

But through it, they don't speak. 

They have no need. 

Later, holding her, he tells her, 

"Here, in the dark, 

in the stillness of time and space, 

I feel our souls entwine, and whatever else, 

I know it This is real."

She whispers back, 

"In the darkest hour of the night I hear you. 

Though sound you don't make, and sleep you don't wake, 

I hear you, and I respond."

There is no talk then for awhile, 

as desire again takes over, 

not the urgent need of lust, 

but the deeper well of a loneliness shared, 

an existence together, 

apart from all time and space.  

Words are no longer audible, 

as passion is the only language they speak.

Please leave a comment for Hyperion or myself. 

We'd both love to hear you opinions.

Thanks for stopping by today and do enjoy the rest of your day.

Betty

His 15th Victim-On Top Seller List

Woo Woo! "His Fifteenth Victim" is now  number 3 on the publishers top 5 best sellers list.

Sandra has begun to rebuild her life after "the event" that freed her from Brad. The man hired to kill her. She had taken a job as a waitress in Florida. I'm sure most of you know the feel and atmosphere or the old diners.*

The Excerpt:

“Hey, be a doll, can you cover the counter for me awhile, because I just got a large table of eight?”

“Sure, Gail, no problem,” she said.

The woman picked up the tip the couple left and slipped it into her apron pocket. Her tables were now empty so watching the counter meant more tips for her. Only one man sat there and he was at the end closest to the service area, which she liked, less walking.

Swiping up the coffee pot in one hand as she passed it. She moved toward the man. When close enough for him to see her in his peripheral vision he looked up.

“More coffee?” she raised the pot for him to see it.

“Sure.” He pushed the cup to the edge of the counter for the refill.

He smiled. She smiled. His smile deepened, and when she saw it she turned away. But even she did not know why.

He showed up for dinner every night after that at 8:30 sharp. His name was Owen. She did not care and other than being professionally polite she said very little beyond more coffee and need anything else.

On the fourth night when she said, “Is there anything I can get you?”

He said to her, “Yes. I'd like a waitress who doesn't treat me like I have a contagious disease.” He watched her jaw drop in shock and listened to her stammer an apology.

“I...I...didn't intend...?”

“Shhh.” He put up his hand and waved it, “No, I'm sorry. I should not have said that, now I am the one being rude. It's just you seem like a nice person and well, I'm new here in town and sometimes I'd like someone to talk to. And I find your smile beautiful.”

She knew lonely and looking through new eyes saw his loneliness. She relaxed and gave him a beaming smile. With a silly girl nervous giggle she said, “Friends. I'm Sandra.”

“I'm Owen, nice to meet you.” He extended his hand for her to take. She almost hesitated, but felt foolish if she did, so she extended her's to grab his. The gleam in his eyes returned, however, this time she was not sure what should be her correct response. The sensible part of her said run, but who listens to that part when a man is looking at a woman the way he was looking at her.

 ****

“You're a hard woman, Sandra, come on and give a man a break. It's dinner, nothing more.” He turned on the stool as she passed pleading his case.

“Sorry, Owen I'm not interesting in getting involved with you or anyone.” She picked up the dirty dishes from table nine busing her own section in the diner.

“Ok, I get it I'm too ugly for you the look at.” He turned back around and picked up the glass of soda and finished it.”

She felt like dirt. She noticed the faint scars and somehow his face looked odd. She saw the scared skin that ran from the knuckles of his pinky finger and up the side of his hand. She didn't know how far up it went, because he always wore long sleeved shirts, and he used a cane but his limp was slight 

He was dead wrong, but now she made him feel bad, and that did not sit to well with her.

“Stop that. It's not true and you know it. Look, you don't know me, and I have reasons and maybe there good reasons only to me, but that's all I got so, no is my final answer.” She forced herself to be firm trying not to hurt him more than she already had. 

It might have done the trick except she walked over and patted his arm trying to console him. The contact sparked, they both felt it. When you walk on carpet and touch a metal door knob and you can see the spark flash and you yell ouch. Only there was no visible spark it was just a jolt of electricity the ran between them.

He laughed out loud and she jumped back, quickly turned, and headed toward the kitchen and refused to come out of it until after he left.

Owen did not show up the next night, but his flowers did. At 8:30 sharp a delivery boy delivered them. He scored two points that night or rather three. One she was not ready to face him and him not being there helped calm her. Two, the flowers when just a small mixed bouquet not large and embarrassing so everyone would make a fuss. The third point was the card. He simply drew a circle with a smile in the middle and signed it--Owen. No note saying anything gushy or demanding, no love or such stuff and nonsense.

Owen was walking in the door She set the end of the counter up for him, so by the time he took a seat his coffee and place setting was waiting for him. He nodded at her as she moved to take another table's order in her assigned section.

Betty the other waitress working that night took his order.

“That's it. Oh and French dressing on the salad. Betty, did she like the flowers?”

She would be letting Sandra deliver it even though she was not working the counter tonight. Betty had plans to be very busy, when his order was ready.

Sandra slid the plate of meatloaf special in front of him.

“Thank you for the flowers you shouldn't have, but they were...” looking back at the waitress station where they still were, “And they still are lovely. Thank you, again.”

“My pleasure, really it was.”

It wasn't until his last coffee refill. That he realized he has drunk more coffee in last few weeks than ever before, and wondered if that's why he now had trouble sleeping. As his eyes followed the woman around the diner he decided she was worth losing sleep over. * this is an ARC not pre-edited excerpt

This is were you can purchase the whole story:

USA: http://ow.ly/62sLt

UK: http://ow.ly/62sNoThank you spent time out of your busy schedule to stop by!

Betty