The morning wasn’t so bad. Just under my goal of 1000. However, coming back after lunch was a different story. For some reason, the words aren’t happening. It’s weird. Usually when this occurs, I hate my morning session and spend my time obsessing. Not this time. I’m actually quite happy with the scene I started. It’s the bridge getting to the heart of the book that’s the problem. I feel like something big needs to happen to shake things up more than they already are. But what? That’s what is stumping me. And why are they where they are? Where is my “so what”?

Maybe I need some lying down time. Visualize what needs to happen next. I do love a good brainstorm session. Even if it doesn’t always translate to words on paper. Or maybe I go and take another look at that outline. See if there are some things I can clarify there.

This may end up being more of a planning and brainstorming day. Those do happen. It’s hard, though, when they do. I always have trouble giving myself grace when the words are being difficult. In my mind, I know that it’s often better to take a knee and re-orient than to dash off in the wrong direction and potentially have to gut a section later.

I still don’t like it. I want to write. Words. Good words. The best words I’ve ever written. Every. Single. Day.

I never said I was rational or set healthy goals.

If you’re listening my creative muses, it’s me. Tobey. Hoping you send me a couple of flashes of inspiration.

Oh look. That might be one now.

The post Treading Water appeared first on T.A. White.

I’m not the greatest at multi-tasking. Especially when there is a hard deadline in the mix and consequences if I don’t hit it. I pretty much have not left the computer chair since Sunday when the proof for Trials came back. Except to sleep and eat. Hours, sitting motionless as I read through the final copy and made last minute adjustments. (I did, however, spend my downtime reading all of the Murderbot Diaries. In retrospect, not my best idea. Hours at work reading, followed by hours at night reading something else is a little much.)

This isn’t the closest I’ve cut it to getting the manuscript uploaded in time to Amazon, but it’s in the top five. Usually, I like to have everything done a week or more in advance. I got this done Wednesday at 7 p.m. and then spent most of today taking care of the other distributers and the print version of the book. (Which, to my surprise, will be available relatively close to the release date. I thought I’d screwed everything up by forgetting to account for the definitions section in my final page count to the designer, but it somehow worked out.)

Because I know people will ask, the audio book is also coming. I just sent them a copy of the manuscript so they can get started. No ETA on when that will be available.

It’s funny. Almost as soon as I put Trials to bed, Aileen and company got extremely loud in my head. I think I’ll be shifting to bring their adventure to life next. Just as soon as I finish all my Christmas preparations.

The post Finish line appeared first on T.A. White.

Oh well. You get a longer excerpt as a result. Though it is still quite short. Luckily, you don’t have long to wait because Nightfall’s Prophet comes out tomorrow!

Excerpt

“Why is it that I’m the one who always gets injured?” I asked Connor as we reached the path.

“Perhaps because you are rash and jump into situations before thinking?”

I stopped to glare at him.

He ducked his head, but not before I saw the way his lips twitched in amusement.

“What’s next?” Connor asked, changing the subject.

My ringtone cut off my response. I held up a finger to tell him to wait as I fished the cellphone of my back pocket.

“This is Traver’s Agency. Aileen speaking. What service may I provide tonight?”

A startled pause greeted me.

“Hello?”

A woman started cackling.

“Is that how you answer your phone?” she gasped, breaking into guffaws every other second. “You sound like an escort service.”

The rest of her words cut off as she dissolved into laughter again.

I tilted the phone to check the caller’s name. The words “Demon Wolfy” shone up at me. Caroline. Of course. Who else but a best friend would give me this much shit?

“And that name! It’s so awful.”

“It’s called branding,” I said sourly, wondering if she could hear me over her laughter.

She was right about the name though. It was generic—and awful. I hadn’t been able to figure out anything better to call myself and until I did The Traver’s Agency it was.

“It’s something,” she said as her laughter eased. 

“Why are you calling me?”

A snort left her. “Did you forget what day it is?”

Spoiler: Aileen totally forgot

The post Last Snippet appeared first on T.A. White.

Nightfall’s Prophet

Available May 16

Chapter One

I felt ridiculous. The problem was that I was pretty sure I looked it too. My arms pumping, my chin lifted as if it could make me even a tiny bit faster. I power walked like my life depended on it down the sidewalk to the cute downtown where my niece’s ballet recital was taking place.

Fifteen minutes late and counting.

I hated being late. Loathed it, really.

Unfortunately, pelting through the streets at a mad dash wasn’t likely to fix my tardiness. Rather, it would only serve to draw unnecessary attention and leave me out of breath and sweaty upon arrival.

I rounded the corner, feeling a wave of relief at the sight of my destination up ahead.

Almost there.

If I’d known beforehand how stinking far this place was, I would have chanced parallel parking my precious, a burnt umber Jaguar F-Type that I’d nicknamed Gwyneth, instead of circling the block a few times looking for a garage.

As I hurried, the phone in my back pocket buzzed. The unexpected vibration made me miss a step. Cursing under my breath, I fished it out to take a glance at the screen.

Thomas. My sire. Definitely not going to answer that.

The man must have some kind of radar that only went off when I was doing something I shouldn’t be. How else could I explain his impeccable timing?

Strictly speaking, maintaining contact with your mortal family was frowned upon in vampire society. To the point where most vampire sires preferred to stage their yearlings’ deaths to make a clean break. After which, further contact was forbidden.

As cruel as it sounded, they had their reasons. Most yearlings were considered highly dangerous in the first decade or so after their transition. Our history was littered with stories of yearlings returning home only to slaughter their nearest and dearest the first time they got a little peckish.

Imagine having to spend eternity knowing you’d chowed down on Mom, Dad, and your baby sister or brother. Some vampires were so overcome with guilt they never recovered. A few, unable to handle what they’d done, sought the oblivion of true death afterward.

That’s why it was considered safer for both sides if the yearling simply disappeared from their former family’s life.

Maybe that was the reason those with fewer family ties were preferred when it came to the transition. It was just one less thing binding them to the mortal world.

Had my transition been normal, I’m sure that would have been my fate too. Instead, I’d woken up in a morgue, having no idea what had happened to me or why I suddenly had fangs. I’d been left to figure it out as I went. With no master to guide me, there was nothing to stop me from resuming as much of my former life as I could. Good decision or bad—I’d returned home to my family.

Now that I was wiser, I still wasn’t quite ready to give them up. Not unless I absolutely had to.

It was a choice Thomas and others frowned upon. And also, the reason I had kept secret the fact I was meeting them tonight.

With a grimace, I hit ignore and stuffed the phone into my back pocket. Thomas was just going to have to lecture me later. I was already late enough as it was.

I had almost reached the building when the presence of another on the street caught my attention. Half cast in shadow, the man stood eerily still as he stared at the doors of the auditorium. The absence of life in his face made it easy to mistake him for a statue.

He simply waited. Not moving. Not blinking. I don’t think he was even breathing. 

“Connor, you’re not supposed to be here.” I thought I’d made that quite clear when I’d slipped out of the mansion without informing anyone of where I was going.

Life brought a hint of animation to Connor’s face as his chest started to rise and fall again.

If I was feeling poetic, I’d use words like moonlight and starlight to describe the man. From his white blond hair that looked almost silver to his pale skin that carried a certain luminescence to it, it was hard to believe he’d ever been human. His features were a little too perfect. His bright blue eyes stood out even more against his otherwise monochromatic coloring.

Connor’s gaze tracked me as I reached for the door handle. “We’re partners, aren’t we? Partners follow each other.”

I paused to stare at him. “You maybe should have run that statement through your brain filter a few more times before you let it into the open.”

Maybe then he would have sounded a little less like a stalker.

Not that it would have made much difference in this conversation. Connor was being obtuse. Deliberately so. As much as he pretended ignorance, I knew he was highly observant. It was how he’d survived so long in situations that would have quickly ended any other.

“This has to do with family,” I explained.

My family. The one I could feel getting more and more distant. I needed this night to go well.

“We’re family too.”

 This was the problem with Connor. His sincerity. As ruthless and smart as any other vampire, he also possessed an innocence that made it impossible to sustain the barriers I normally encased my cold shriveled heart in.

“Damn it.” I had no defenses against him. “Fine. You can come.”

If there had been a trace of triumph in his expression, a speck of smugness to signify manipulation, I could have denied him. But there wasn’t.

And that was why he got away with things others couldn’t.

His sincerity disarmed me. If he ever weaponized it, I was toast.

 “Not a word about vampires though.”

“I understand.”

Did he? Because the bright excitement in his eyes didn’t make me think so.

I yanked open the door and stalked inside. “I’m going to regret this.”

But likely not as much as Connor when he realized letting him come meant watching seven-year-olds who hadn’t quite mastered the use of their limbs dance.

We slipped inside the auditorium as quietly as possible, careful not to create a disturbance that would detract from the performance. I scanned the rows for two empty seats. Hopefully somewhere inconspicuous that would allow me to pretend we’d been here the whole time.

I never got the chance to make a move as a person toward the front third of the auditorium turned. She lifted a hand, summoning us with an imperious wave.

There went my idea of blending into the background.

The thought of disobeying the invitation didn’t occur to me. Vampires were scary; my sister was scarier.

“Into the breach we go,” I muttered before trudging forward with all the enthusiasm of an inmate approaching their execution.

It might have been my imagination, but I could have sworn I felt the irate gazes of disgruntled parents burning into the back of my head as we slipped down the aisle. It was hard not to feel self-conscious with everyone staring at us as a line of tiny ballerina’s walked across the stage and started lifting and lowering their arms out of sync.

I sped up, reaching the row Jenna had claimed. The man I’d always considered my father sat on the end. His face brightened at the sight of me and he started to scoot back. He paused as his gaze caught on Connor at my side, something flashing across his face.

“Dad?” I asked in confusion.

The distracted look on his face faded to be replaced by the same smile he’d had at my arrival. This time a little less bright and a touch smaller but still genuine.

“Sorry. Yes. Of course.” He finished making room for Connor and I to slip by. 

Going first, I bent over so I wouldn’t block the view of those behind us. Connor was graceful as he navigated the obstacle course of legs, chairs, and belongings.

I, on the other hand, nearly face planted when my foot got caught in the strap of Jenna’s purse, forcing me to grab the back of the row in front of us or fall. The couple seated there turned to shoot me a dirty look. I shot them a conciliatory smile, pretending not to hear the whispered “rude” from the woman as she faced front again. 

A blast of chill came from Connor as he eyed the woman’s neck with a calculating stare.

Knowing how protective he could be—and how brutally efficient his retaliation—I slapped his arm in warning. His gaze didn’t move from the woman’s neck. I pinched the back of his hand, my nails digging into his skin when he didn’t react.

It was only when I was in danger of drawing blood that he finally moved his attention from the woman to me.

I gave him a warning look. He was going to behave. Or else. I didn’t know what that or else was, but I’d figure it out.

His lips twitched the faintest bit as he drew his hand out of my grip to pat mine in comfort.

I scowled, not believing his promises for a second. Connor might look amiable and even a little introverted, but he was a stubborn bastard. It wasn’t like the stubbornness of others either. Those who spoke loudly and fiercely. It was quieter. The kind that it took you a while to notice.

You could give him all the orders in the world, but if he didn’t want to do something, he wouldn’t. Most of the time, he wouldn’t even argue with you. Your advice would go in one ear and out the other while he went about doing things the way he wanted.

Knowing it was useless to pursue the matter, I collapsed into the seat next to Jenna. Connor did the same on my opposite side, managing to make the movement as graceful as everything else he did.

Jenna wasted no time leaning toward me. “You’re late.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I underestimated how long it would take me to walk through the house my realtor wanted to show me.”

It was a lie, but telling Jenna that a group of kobolds had gotten a touch stabby and had to be taught a lesson in why vampires, even baby ones, weren’t to be messed with wasn’t an option.

Connor looked at me out of the corner of his eye, the ends of his mouth rising in a micro expression.

He was happy.

Because I’d lied? Or because he knew the truth when Jenna didn’t?

“You found a house?”

I shook my head. “No. Not yet.”

Probably not ever with the way the housing market was. Inventory was at an all-time low with anything that was even remotely reasonably price being snatched up in an instant.

“Mom didn’t come?” I asked, glancing down the row of chairs to find Connor had taken the last empty seat. The rest were filled, making me wonder if perhaps my mother was going to show up in a few minutes and have nowhere to sit.

Jenna’s expression was strained. “I didn’t invite her.”

I stared at Jenna for a beat, a little impressed. That wasn’t like her. The woman who tended to give way to keep the peace. Maybe she really was being honest when she said she wanted to be a better sister.

Over the past few months, she’d made every attempt to repair the fractures in our relationship, starting with her offer to help me search for my bio dad. An offer I hadn’t needed to take her up on since he’d come looking for me.

Since we’d reconnected, she’d been careful not to push too hard, respecting the boundaries I set. The ones I’d formed to protect her and the rest of my family from the dangerous world I found myself part of.

“I’m sure she wasn’t pleased about that,” I muttered.

Jenna’s frustrated laugh made me think that was an understatement.

The woman in front of us twisted in her seat. “Do you mind? Some of us are trying to watch the program.” 

Jenna’s smile was contrite. “I apologize, Vicky. We’ll try to be quiet.”

The woman shot her a disdainful glower before sneering at me. “I shouldn’t be surprised that Linda’s family is as ill-mannered as her. Arriving late. Gossiping during the performance. This isn’t a social gathering.”

I inhaled sharply, feeling a little light headed from anger. I’d heard just about enough out of her. I could let go the nastiness earlier because it was my fault. I’d created a disturbance, however unintentional, with my late arrival. When you made mistakes, you took your lumps. The end.

Bringing my niece’s name into matters was a no go. You didn’t touch my family. Not ever.

Jenna had apologized. Continuing to harp on matters was pure pettiness.

My dad leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Ma’am, my daughter already apologized once. I suggest you face front and pay attention to the rest of the recital before matters escalate any further.”

The words sounded polite, but everybody could hear what he really meant. If Vicky didn’t take him up on his offer, he would be happy to accompany her on her road to hell.

It was rare for Dad to lose his temper, but when he did it was always memorable.

Uncertainty and insult fought for dominance in the woman’s expression.

Before either could win, the man seated next to her grabbed her shoulder and forced her to face front. “Enough. You’re embarrassing me.”

“Richard!” The woman protested, sounding like she didn’t understand why he was upset.

Jenna and I traded identical looks before dissolving into silent giggles that caused our shoulders to shake. Dad sent us a chiding glance. The kind that all parents had perfected on their children. He lifted a finger to his mouth to shush us.

Jenna and I nodded quickly, the occasional snort giggle breaking through our attempt at seriousness. We were careful not to look at each other. The moment we did, the jig would be up. There’d be no fighting back our laughter then.

I bit my lip, rolling it between my teeth to keep my snickers to myself as I stared at the stage.

Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. Don’t you do it. Otherwise, Vicky might turn around and fuss at us again.

The thought nearly set off another chain of giggles. Only catching Connor staring at me brought me back to reality.

“What?” I mouthed.

“You and your father are similar.”

Connor’s voice was a bare thread of sound that was undetectable to human ears.

“Of course,” I responded, using the same volume. “He’s the one who raised me, after all. He taught me everything I know.”

We might not have shared DNA, but there was more to a parent/child relationship than just genetics. He’d been there every step of the way during my transition from childhood to adulthood. Guiding me where I needed it. Providing a safe harbor in those moments when I found myself lost and unsure.

He was my hero. He was the reason I had a habit of rescuing misfits. He never could stand when people were bullies. I couldn’t either. Our temperaments were similar. Dad seemed mild mannered until he wasn’t. Particularly when the people he loved the most were in jeopardy of being trampled on.

Connor’s face was thoughtful as he studied my father.

I left him to it, settling in to watch the recital. It was every bit as painful as I’d thought it would be. A good number of the ballerinas seemed to have forgotten the steps. They looked to the others, following along a beat behind everyone else.

There was one particular cutie who got bored halfway through and found something interesting on the side of the stage to examine. The teacher motioned at her to return to the line, but the child remained intent on her new toy.

It was adorable. A few in the crowd laughed as one of the parents got up and approached the edge of the stage to try to help the teacher.

In the middle of the group, my niece twirled. She was one of the few who’d actually remembered the steps. Although her movements contained more enthusiasm than skill, she was having fun. Her smile was as big as her face.

My phone vibrated three more times during the course of the rest of the performance. I ignored it each time, intent on not letting my sire ruin this rare evening out.

“You should answer that,” Connor advised. “The longer you wait, the pushier he’ll get.”

At that moment, his phone let out a merry jingle, causing those nearby to give us more dirty looks.

I refrained from laughing, raising my eyebrows at him instead. “What’s that you were saying?”

Connor’s expression was grumpy as he stared straight ahead.

“I think that’s you,” Jenna whispered when he didn’t move to answer the phone.

Reluctantly, Connor reached into his pocket. I caught the word “Sire” on the screen before he hit the button to silence his ringer.

“Come now, avoiding him will only make him pushier,” I teased, a little too happy that the shoe was on the other foot.

Connor pretended not to hear my dig as applause broke out around us. I grinned, rising with the rest and clapping to the end of the performance. My niece beamed from her place in the middle of the pack. It might have been bias on my part. but I thought she was the best one out there.

I let out a sharp whistle of appreciation.

The sound attracted Linda’s attention. If possible, she beamed even harder. Her smile so wide it nearly split her face.

If I needed a reminder of why I’d sat through an hour of torture surrounded by snotty parents, this was it. She looked like I’d handed her the sun, the stars and everything in between.

Moments like this were why I’d never be able to fully walk away from my family. It was true they drove me crazy. Feelings on both sides had been hurt. Some of it was my fault. Some of it theirs.  But they were worth the effort.

One day these moments and these people would be gone. I needed to make the time we still had count.

Linda darted for the edge of the stage before anyone could stop her. She hopped down and raced in our direction, leaving her teacher staring at her in consternation. Her fellow dancers milled around in confusion, a few looking like they wanted to follow.

The teacher clapped to get their attention. Like little guppies, they grouped around her and let her shepherd them toward the wings.

Linda reached our row, her face alight with excitement. “Aunt Aileen, you came!”

“I told you I would.”

Whatever my failings, I at least tried to keep my promises. Even if I was late.

Linda scooted past her grandfather and mother, pretending not to see my sister lean down to give her a hug. Jenna frowned at me as her daughter wiggled away from her arms.

I stuck my tongue out at her. “It’s because she likes me better.”

Jenna’s glare was fulminating.

“I’m so glad you got to see the recital, Aunt Aileen. I was worried work would keep you late. I know how important your job is.” Linda barely paused to draw breath, already launching into the next round before I could respond. “What did you think of my dance? Ms. Dinkle said I’m one of the best in my class. She said my arabesque’s and jete’s are advanced for my age, but that my pirouette needs work. It’s really hard.”

My eyes began to glaze over with the influx of information. I pretended to understand all of her words as I nodded at appropriate intervals.

I owed Jenna an apology. If this was what she’d been dealing with as a single mother all these years, she was beyond impressive.

Honestly, I wasn’t sure how she was still sane. Were all kids like this?

From Linda’s exuberance, you’d never know that a few months ago she’d been sick enough for a hospital stay. One where words like cancer had been bandied about. Doctors were stunned when she made a miraculous recovery.

No one but Thomas, Liam and I knew it was because of my sire. Evidently, a powerful vampire’s blood acted like a panacea for most human ailments. Cancer included.

I owed Thomas. He’d saved Linda when I couldn’t. There was no getting around that.

It was a debt I had to remember.

“Alright, miss.” Jenna’s perfectly timed interruption coincided with Linda’s need for breath. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be down here. Why don’t you return to the stage before Ms. Dinkle takes back all the nice things she’s said about you? Your aunt will be here when you’re done.”

“Mom, you can’t take back complements already given.” Linda’s scowl was adorable. “Everyone knows that.”

Jenna made a face at her daughter. “Oh, they do, do they?”

“But you’re right. I shouldn’t miss Ms. Dinkle’s after performance review.” Linda waved at me. “See you later, Aunt Aileen.” She slipped through the narrow gap between the seats before stopping in front of her grandpa for a hug. “Are we still going to the pancake house afterward, Grandpa?”

Dad enfolded Linda in a bear hug, pressing his cheek on the top of her head in the process. “I have to reward my best granddaughter somehow, don’t I?”

“I’m your only granddaughter, silly.”

“I thought you were joining the rest of your class,” Jenna said.

Linda danced away from my dad. “I’m going. I’m going.”

Jenna shook her head as Linda wove between adults in the aisle, her figure quickly disappearing into the crowd.

“I swear, I don’t know where she gets it from,” Jenna said with a shake of her head. “She gets more stubborn every day.”

I lifted my eyebrows at Jenna. “Really? You don’t know?”

Did she not remember who had raised us? Our mother was the queen of stubborn. The empress of the sharp retort, and a woman who could silence her children with a single glance.

Jenna gave me a dry look. “Ah, right. I forgot she has you as an aunt.”

I made a face back at her as we moved into the aisle and toward the exit.

My father ignored our antics to hold a hand out to Connor. “My name’s Patrick. I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself earlier.”

Connor stared at my dad’s hand with puzzlement before reaching out to shake it. “You may call me Connor.”

Jenna leaned against my shoulder as she dropped her voice to a whisper. “Is he the reason you didn’t agree to move in with me until you found a new place?”

I could have warned her that it was pointless to whisper and that Connor had probably heard every word out of her mouth, but where was the fun in that?

“Of course not. We’re strictly platonic.”

Jenna wiggled her eyebrows at me. “Does that mean you’re still dating tall, dark, and delicious? His name was Liam, right?”

Somehow the word “dating” when used in conjunction to Liam seemed like a tepid description for what we were doing.

“Yes.” I shrugged her arm off my shoulder as we reached the exit. “What’s with all the questions about my dating life?”

Jenna’s expression was innocent. “I’m your sister. This is the type of thing sisters discuss.”

I fixed her with a hard look that said she wasn’t fooling me.

“By the way, where is Liam?” Jenna made a show of looking around. “I was hoping he’d come with you so I could play twenty questions with him.”

Note to self—don’t let Jenna within spitting distance of my vampire boyfriend. He’d have way too much fun with anything she asked him.

“He was busy tonight,” I said evasively.

In truth, I hadn’t asked him.

I didn’t know if he would have said yes. Although he’d met Jenna and my dad multiple times, it hadn’t been as my official boyfriend. There was also Liam’s history with his mortal family and the complicated feelings the topic brought him.

“How do you know my daughter?” Dad was asking Connor.

“I’m her brother.”

The resulting silence made me wish we were still talking about my love life as my dad and Jenna went very quiet.

“Brother-in-arms,” I was quick to clarify with an awkward laugh, seeing the question in their eyes. “Not a blood related brother.”

Connor’s expression was a little stiff at my denial.

“Right, Connor?” I nudged him with an elbow.

He’d better back me up on this. There would be hell to pay if he didn’t.

Reluctantly, Connor nodded. “Aileen saved my life. I owe her more than I can ever repay.”

My relief was short lived as Dad contemplated the two of us with a serious expression and a gaze that saw right through me.

He knew—or at least suspected—there was more to the story. That I was hiding something important.

I held my breath, waiting for the hammer to fall. Dad had always had a knack for detecting my lies.

 “No combat, huh? I guess all those assurances you gave me and your mother were bullshit.”

My mind went blank.

I’d forgotten I’d told my parents that I never left the FOB—Forward Operating Base—during deployment. One of my bigger lies now exposed while covering for another lie.

Dad was quick to let me off the hook, the amused glint in his eye telling me he’d known the truth all along. “You’re home safe now. That’s all we can ask for.”

“Connor’s not just my friend. He’s my business partner too,” I blurted out.

 “Is he now? Then I guess it’s good you two have history,” Dad said.

Jenna coughed under her breath. “Coward.”

Without looking, I swatted her arm with the back of my hand. “Shush, you.”

Her laugh came as Linda burst out of the crowd.

In the short time since we hadn’t seen her, my niece had shed her tutu and was now wearing a thin jacket and pants over her ballet outfit. Her hair was still in its tight bun, and glitter covered her face.

She slid to a stop in front of Connor, looking up at him like he was the eighth world wonder.

“Who are you?” Linda asked in a hushed voice that made me wonder if seven-year-olds were capable of falling in love at first sight.

Connor’s face held a trace of gentleness. “My name is Connor. I am Aileen’s brother.”

Linda nodded, accepting his words the way only a child would. Without question or hesitation.

She held her arms out to Connor. “Will you pick me up? My legs hurt.”

“Linda!” Jenna gasped. “Don’t be rude. You’re too big for that.”

Her protest came too late. Connor had already leaned down, carefully closing his arms around Linda as if she was a fragile treasure. He straightened, lifting her as easily as a feather.

From her new vantage, Linda looked around with excitement at being so high up.

“Are you sure?” Jenna asked hesitantly. “You don’t have to.”

The look Jenna shot her daughter held both embarrassment over her daughter’s behavior and a warning that she’d better straighten up—or else.

Connor acted like he hadn’t heard as he glanced at my dad. “You mentioned pancakes?”

Dad took his time studying him. “I did, didn’t I?”

Dad winked at Linda. She giggled, burying her face in Connor’s neck.

“We wouldn’t want to disappoint, would we?” Dad asked Linda.

“No!”

Dad offered his arms to me and Jenna. “Shall we, girls?”

With a smirk, I hooked one arm with his before looking at Jenna in expectation.

She stared at us for a moment before releasing a growl that sounded cute when compared to the terrifying snarls of a werewolf.

“You’re going to spoil her,” Jenna chided.

Linda started bouncing in Connor’s arms. “We’re off to see the pancakes, the wonderful, wonderful pancakes of ours.”

“A little spoiling never hurt anyone,” Dad whispered back.

Jenna shot him a displeased look. “You’re not the one who has to deal with her later.”

I leaned around dad. “That’s the perk of being a grandpa and aunt.”

We got to wind the kids up and reap all the fun before abandoning them to their parents who would have to deal with the consequences.

I pumped my fist in the air. “Pancakes!”

Linda squealed and did the same. “Pancakes!”

Dad and Connor looked at each other in consensus.

“Oh no,” Jenna moaned.

The men smirked then pumped their fists in the air. “Pancakes!”

The post Nightfall’s Prophet Excerpt appeared first on T.A. White.

How long can a vampire hold a grudge? The answer, it turns out, is an eternity.

Aileen Travers is about to get a lesson in the nature of vendettas and how far some will go to avenge any slight. When a representative of the vampire council sweeps into town, he brings with him a deadly conspiracy that could wind up threatening the very foundation of Aileen’s life.

With strange dreams plaguing her days and an ancient creature stalking her nights, Aileen soon finds the vampire’s motivations for being in her city are far more sinister than she could have ever imagined. An infestation of hunters points to a conspiracy whose roots lie in the far past.

As the danger deepens, Aileen will need to unravel the mystery behind her dreams and their connection with her stalker or risk losing everything she’s built.

One thing is clear—when you live as long as vampires do, you’re bound to make a few enemies.

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Here are the tasks I’ve started–and abandoned–in the past few hours.

Grocery Shopping. Cleaning. Organizing the mess of my jewelry drawer. Brainstorming Firebird 5. Answering emails. Reading a book. I’m pretty sure I also abandoned making tea. I boiled the water but never steeped the leaves.

I don’t know if it’s my usual post book humdrums or the overcast weather, but there’s a whole lot of nothing happening over here. Maybe I need another nap. Those are always nice, and since I do a lot of brainstorming in that odd zone between waking and sleeping, I can even tell myself I’m working.

Tomorrow will be better. Hopefully.

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Snippet

The sound of puking came as Nathan started the car.

I looked into the backseat to find Connor bent over and heaving. “What happened to being able to handle it?”

Connor’s features held regret as he wiped his mouth and straightened from his hunched over position. “You were right. I was too ambitious.”

Nathan twisted in his seat. “Did he seriously just throw up in this car?” The stunned outrage on his face as if he didn’t quite believe what his ears were telling him made me bite back a smile. “Right behind me too? Are you kidding me?” His voice held a touch of hysteria. “How am I supposed to drive thinking about it sloshing around? What if it comes up here when I hit the brakes?”

Nathan started dry retching.

I patted him sympathetically on the shoulder. “I’ve decided to forgive you for letting Anton drive Gwyneth. You were right; this was a much better idea than taking my car.”

Nathan’s shoulders went rigid. “Did you know this was going to happen?”

Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh.

“How could I?”

Nathan scowled at Connor. “Did you do this on purpose?”

Connor’s face was blank as he met Nathan’s gaze.

Unsatisfied, Nathan spun back to me. “What did you mean earlier by ‘handle it?’”

I tried to appear unaffected. Probably not very well since a smile kept trying to break out on my face. “Nothing much.”

Nathan squinted at me, trying to see through my facade. His eyes widened in realization. “He ate something, didn’t he?”

My shoulders started shaking with silent laughter.

He whirled on Connor. “What did you eat?”

Connor’s stare made it plain he didn’t intend to answer that question. It wasn’t until I made a small “come on” gesture that he deigned to open his mouth. “Triple cinnamon pancakes.”

Nathan’s face held disbelief as he looked at me. “You let him eat that crap?”

I shrugged. “He’s a big boy. And he said he could handle it.”

Which was why it was doubly satisfying to see that no, he could, in fact, not handle the food the triple cinnamon pancakes with a side of bacon and ham.

“Are we going?” I asked after a few seconds when Nathan continued to regard us like we were aliens. “We’re going to attract attention if we keep sitting here.”

Nathan faced front in his seat, muttering to himself as he put the car in drive again. “He’s going to clean that up when we arrive. You know that, right?”

Connor’s silence spoke for itself as he stared out the window at the passing scenery.

“No can do,” I answered for him. “We have a meet-and-greet, remember? It’s why you interrupted our evening in such a rude fashion.”

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Some things may seem familiar, but I hope you enjoy anyway.

Deleted Scene

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The first few days after completing a draft, I’m usually at odds and ends. It takes time for my brain to catch up to the fact it doesn’t need to run as fast or hard. This is about the time I resume regular activities like cleaning my house, cooking dinner, grocery shopping, etc. There’s a period of high productivity after a draft ends. That meant yesterday, minutes after finishing, I hurried to the grocery store and bought all the fruits and veggies in sight. I cooked dinner for my husband and me and cleared the office desk of all the scraps of paper that contained ideas for the book. You could say I restored order to my chaos.

I predict this order will only last another few days and then the fatigue and brain fog that comes with an end will set in. At that point, I become a human shaped slug and start binging books and TV. For now though, I’m going to see how much I can get done before that happens.

I’m quite excited with this draft. This is the first book in at least four or five books where I’ve written it from beginning to end. No abandoning it to restart once I hit a wall. Right now, there is no plan to rewrite a significant chunk either. There might be some massaging here and there. A little context added and a scene or two inserted. But it’s not tearing out half the book to replace it with more words. Of course, that might change once I start the read through, but for now I am flush with victory and the hope that one day I will go back to writing drafts that aren’t complete gut jobs.

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