Two Immortal lovers travel to Earth born as mortals Simon and April. Simon is 36-years-old and only wants to live alone. April is his best friend's niece who adores Simon. He does his best to ignore her, but April doesn't give up easily, making his uncomplicated life complicated.
Before he knew what was coming, April laid both of her hands on the sides of his face as she pressed her lips tightly on his. He instinctively drew her closer and kissed her fervently. Her lips were sweet, perfect, and delicious, and he couldn’t help but kiss her more passionately as she yielded willingly, pushing her body tightly against his. Jasmine filled his nostrils, clouding his mind. He craved more. More of her, more of that delicious scent. He groaned then mumbled, “Kitten.” Shocked over his intense response, Simon forced her arms down.
“April, no. I mean no! You’ve no idea what you’re doing. I forbid this. No more!” |
“Bridge?” Dixon asked Simon, and Simon returned a blank stare. Aunt Tillie didn’t play bridge.
April passed the cups of tea, handing Simon his first. “Here you are, my dear.” Dixon bit his upper lip. “Do you want a slice of Aunt Tillie’s gingerbread? I…I helped her make it.” April blushed, as she leaned in a little too close to Simon. Simon threw himself back hard into the chair to get a proper distance from her, almost spilling his tea. “Great.” Dixon grabbed a slice and sat back down. Neither April nor Simon moved. “Better take a piece. I think that’s the answer.” Dixon winked at Simon. |
https://youtu.be/vVnr1xKaPn4
A Collection of 60 poems. Only 99 cents for the e-book
Upon the Clouds
Come with me upon the clouds,
we’ll desert this world of crowds.
Balmy blown billowed beds,
full of fluffy, fleecy spreads.
Having fun in floating fog,
drifting, dreaming, plopped in bog.
On gelled expanse, feet thus bare,
to dance and prance beyond a care.
What a day I’ve planned for us,
without a rush, nor any fuss.
We’ll waft whilst on whiffled whites,
hovering in the highest heights.
On ballooned batting we’ll collapse,
piles of puffed air, not burlaps.
Next to God’s angels, me and you,
buoying, breezing thru skies blue.
Like a barge we’ll slowly soar.
We’ll skim on past Heaven’s shore.
Dallying forth on dewy dough,
in no hurry, to and fro.
Up to the clouds, follow me,
and glide and gambol gleefully.
When dusk descends down below,
that’s when we to home must go.
Come with me upon the clouds,
we’ll desert this world of crowds.
Balmy blown billowed beds,
full of fluffy, fleecy spreads.
Having fun in floating fog,
drifting, dreaming, plopped in bog.
On gelled expanse, feet thus bare,
to dance and prance beyond a care.
What a day I’ve planned for us,
without a rush, nor any fuss.
We’ll waft whilst on whiffled whites,
hovering in the highest heights.
On ballooned batting we’ll collapse,
piles of puffed air, not burlaps.
Next to God’s angels, me and you,
buoying, breezing thru skies blue.
Like a barge we’ll slowly soar.
We’ll skim on past Heaven’s shore.
Dallying forth on dewy dough,
in no hurry, to and fro.
Up to the clouds, follow me,
and glide and gambol gleefully.
When dusk descends down below,
that’s when we to home must go.
The Immortal Einarr is tasked to end the war on the dragon planet Aberforth and it will take most of his mortal life there to accomplish his mission. The Great Leader of all dragons, Zavat believes it's time for a prophecy to be fulfilled. Using an ancient and dangerous alchemy instruction, he infuses the baby Einarr with his own blood, making Zavat Einarr's dragon father. Einarr's parents are killed during the war and he's left alone until found by Zavat. He'll spend the rest of his life living with dragons until in his old age, he returns to his Immortal home.
Einarr leaned against the pillar with his arms crossed. “Does your kind ever suffer regret for all that you’ve murdered?”
Zavat mumbled, “My kind? My kind of ‘it’? Or dragon? Or species?”
“I’ll refer to you however I wish. ‘Its’, fiends, and dolts fit, but never will I call you a lord.”
Zavat’s eyes burst open, rich black in color. In a heartbeat, he seized Einarr’s arm with a massive claw and, dragging Einarr, clomped to the back and suspended him over the ledge.
“We don’t abide disrespect. I’ve allowed you say certain things, but no more. It’s time you act nicely with us. What’s my type of ‘fiend’ called?”
“Pull me up, you idiot! You might drop me.”
Zavat’s eyes turned to citrine and he smiled menacingly while he lowered Einarr farther. “Idiot isn’t correct.”
Einarr tried to climb up Zavat’s arm but Zavat poked him with his other forepaw.
“Sure. Be a bully and tease me. You think you’re brilliant.”
“Bully isn’t correct either.” Zavat leaned out so that Einarr dangled perilously in open space with no chance of grabbing on to anything should Zavat let go.
“Alright. Lift me up and I’ll answer.”
Zavat dropped him farther. “My kind is…?”
“You’re a…a…” He ran through the titles in his head. “You’re a Guerrverre.”
Einarr leaned against the pillar with his arms crossed. “Does your kind ever suffer regret for all that you’ve murdered?”
Zavat mumbled, “My kind? My kind of ‘it’? Or dragon? Or species?”
“I’ll refer to you however I wish. ‘Its’, fiends, and dolts fit, but never will I call you a lord.”
Zavat’s eyes burst open, rich black in color. In a heartbeat, he seized Einarr’s arm with a massive claw and, dragging Einarr, clomped to the back and suspended him over the ledge.
“We don’t abide disrespect. I’ve allowed you say certain things, but no more. It’s time you act nicely with us. What’s my type of ‘fiend’ called?”
“Pull me up, you idiot! You might drop me.”
Zavat’s eyes turned to citrine and he smiled menacingly while he lowered Einarr farther. “Idiot isn’t correct.”
Einarr tried to climb up Zavat’s arm but Zavat poked him with his other forepaw.
“Sure. Be a bully and tease me. You think you’re brilliant.”
“Bully isn’t correct either.” Zavat leaned out so that Einarr dangled perilously in open space with no chance of grabbing on to anything should Zavat let go.
“Alright. Lift me up and I’ll answer.”
Zavat dropped him farther. “My kind is…?”
“You’re a…a…” He ran through the titles in his head. “You’re a Guerrverre.”
Gingerbread Castle is a wintry rhyme book for children seven to nine-years-old.
Gingerbread Castle is straight ahead,
made from thick slices of gingerbread.
Jimmy stops the sleigh with a spin.
Merrily Jimmy says, “Let’s go in.”
Notice, the walls are wafers baked brown?
Colorful sugared flowers line the ground.
The shutters are mint twist candy,
with jellied leaves that are most dandy.
Gingerbread Castle is straight ahead,
made from thick slices of gingerbread.
Jimmy stops the sleigh with a spin.
Merrily Jimmy says, “Let’s go in.”
Notice, the walls are wafers baked brown?
Colorful sugared flowers line the ground.
The shutters are mint twist candy,
with jellied leaves that are most dandy.
The Dimidiums is a books series about a secret race known as Dimidiums who are half vampire and half human.
Trevor Dittmar and his father Stefan are well-known Trackers in their world, hunting vampires and the worst of human criminals. And they hate humans. That is, until Trevor falls in love with a human woman Janna and now must hide this from his father while still working for him.
Chaz returned and placed a small dish of salad in front of Trevor.
“What’s this?” Trevor demanded.
“It’s your side salad,” explained Chaz.
“I said no sides.”
“But the side salad comes with the meal. It’s your vegetables,” said Chaz.
Trevor looked down at the plate and smirked. “I don’t consider grass a vegetable. Don’t you serve fresh vegetables? You know, the variety that grow in the ground?”
“My mom’s come from cans.”
“How healthy.” Trevor pointed at the salad. “Wilted iceberg lettuce, two pieces of a tomato and one beet.”
“With the house dressing,” said Chaz.
“Fancy. You must pay a lot for your chef,” retorted Trevor.
“Frannie isn’t a chef. She’s the cook and she owns this place. Well, she and her husband did, but he died.”
“Eating the side salads?”
Janna looked away, laughing quietly.
“No, old age,” said Chaz.
“This house dressing doesn’t look like anything that I’ve ever seen before.” Trevor picked it up and studied it.
“It’s Fran’s own recipe. It’s made with one cup of mayonnaise mixed with sour cream, half a cup of sugar and lots of herbs.”
Trevor sniffed it. “Sure to delight.” He crinkled his nose.
“I’ll tell Fran. She’ll be happy to hear it.” Chaz ran off to the kitchen. A few minutes later, Fran came out.
“Be nice to her,” whispered Janna. “She’s old. Besides, she’s my friend and you owe me.”
He grinned at Janna. “To be nice will cost you such a high price. Perhaps you’ll owe me instead?” He ran his eyes over her slowly. “I’d like that. Yes, I’d like that very much.”
“Just be nice,” said Janna.
He shrugged. “I enjoy my sarcasm. Besides, isn’t the dinner enough to pay you back the one dollar? Will you expect me to service you tonight too?” I bet she’s a delight in bed.
Janna turned red, and Trevor relished her embarrassment.
“Don’t worry. That’s my favorite way to repay, and I’m good at it. You’ll see.” He regarded her with desire.
Trevor Dittmar and his father Stefan are well-known Trackers in their world, hunting vampires and the worst of human criminals. And they hate humans. That is, until Trevor falls in love with a human woman Janna and now must hide this from his father while still working for him.
Chaz returned and placed a small dish of salad in front of Trevor.
“What’s this?” Trevor demanded.
“It’s your side salad,” explained Chaz.
“I said no sides.”
“But the side salad comes with the meal. It’s your vegetables,” said Chaz.
Trevor looked down at the plate and smirked. “I don’t consider grass a vegetable. Don’t you serve fresh vegetables? You know, the variety that grow in the ground?”
“My mom’s come from cans.”
“How healthy.” Trevor pointed at the salad. “Wilted iceberg lettuce, two pieces of a tomato and one beet.”
“With the house dressing,” said Chaz.
“Fancy. You must pay a lot for your chef,” retorted Trevor.
“Frannie isn’t a chef. She’s the cook and she owns this place. Well, she and her husband did, but he died.”
“Eating the side salads?”
Janna looked away, laughing quietly.
“No, old age,” said Chaz.
“This house dressing doesn’t look like anything that I’ve ever seen before.” Trevor picked it up and studied it.
“It’s Fran’s own recipe. It’s made with one cup of mayonnaise mixed with sour cream, half a cup of sugar and lots of herbs.”
Trevor sniffed it. “Sure to delight.” He crinkled his nose.
“I’ll tell Fran. She’ll be happy to hear it.” Chaz ran off to the kitchen. A few minutes later, Fran came out.
“Be nice to her,” whispered Janna. “She’s old. Besides, she’s my friend and you owe me.”
He grinned at Janna. “To be nice will cost you such a high price. Perhaps you’ll owe me instead?” He ran his eyes over her slowly. “I’d like that. Yes, I’d like that very much.”
“Just be nice,” said Janna.
He shrugged. “I enjoy my sarcasm. Besides, isn’t the dinner enough to pay you back the one dollar? Will you expect me to service you tonight too?” I bet she’s a delight in bed.
Janna turned red, and Trevor relished her embarrassment.
“Don’t worry. That’s my favorite way to repay, and I’m good at it. You’ll see.” He regarded her with desire.
