The Beauty of Blog...and a Preview

I wasn't going to post anything new today simply because I don't really have the time and there doesn't seem to be much for me to tell you right now. I don't have a new release to plug, I don't have a special guest to showcase today...

But what I do have is a pretty new blog layout and I like to look at it :)

So since I'm here, I'll let you in on a secret...I'm writing something new.

Granted, I've been writing this for a while, but it took a long time for me to really commit to it, since I had still been focused on other things. But now that I'm seriously invested, the writing has been coming a little easier once again and the story really rocks. The funny thing is--I thought that my last book was my best book yet...but now I know that this one is going to surpass even that. And I guess that's the way it should be, right?

So, do you want a little sneak peak?

Greta braced one arm across her face to protect her eyes and cheeks from the sharp wind. The other she held out for balance, taking high-kneed steps through snow that had made achy popsicles of her toes long ago, while cursing the blood-borne creature that had forced her to track it in this godforsaken blizzard.

The thing holed up in yon cavern somewhere beyond the wall of white whirling all around her wasn’t the particular evil deviant she had been hunting—was always hunting. No, this was something else, maybe just as bad. Still, having picked up another mark to bring in for the reward money was better than sitting around twiddling her thumbs as she waited for Rudolph to return with news of more dead ends.

At least, that had been the plan. A bloody good one too—right up until gale force winds and an ice storm engulfing three goblin territories had descended like a bitter, frozen plague to torture her.

Fortunately, Greta wasn’t following a physical trail. It would have been buried and long gone by now if she was. No, she was pretty sure she knew where this monster was hiding and didn’t need his footprints in the snow to point the way for her. Even so, the only reason she hadn’t turned right back around to seek shelter from the devastating storm was the young boy missing from his home in the village. She refused to believe he was dead already, although he would be if someone didn’t get to him fast.

“Sand and sp-p-lashing surf.” She blinked away the crystals forming on her eyelashes and glanced up at the wide evergreens so heavy with snow their limbs sagged all the way to the ground. “T-t-tender barbecue chicken,” she continued to mutter through chattering teeth. “T-t-tall, leafy palms. A w-w-warm yellow sun.”

Unfortunately, the cold hadn’t yet made Greta delusional enough to believe that the wet stuff filling her boots and trickling down the back of her neck was anything but miserable, icy cold precipitation, or that she was anywhere but miserable, far-from-home Mylena.