Rachel and I have been hard at work on our stories and marketing plan for 2016. One of the things we’re working on finishing is New World Order, which was first serialized on our blog, Taurus and Taurus. It was an experiment, a dual POV story that has both F/F and M/M in it. We never intended to market it, but the three and a half books waiting behind it are definitely something we want to get into the market and so, we’re finishing this one. To be honest, it’s a ton of fun to work on. The future stories will be straight-up M/M (okay, poor choice of words, “straight”), but this one is a blend because we were experimenting.
For one thing, our hero is Brock Gary, a priest of the Gary Covens in Madison and one of the Guardians. He has three cats, one of whom is pictured above. I remember laughing out loud when I found the picture and set it to Rachel because it reminded me perfectly of Brock’s cat, Jezebel. Anyone who’s been around cats knows they do get that expression on occasion, usually when begging or just before they jump onto your lap. Or, as my husband says, onto your testicles. ~ouch~
I figured I’d share a little peek at what we’re doing. This tidbit is from Belinda Gary’s point of view. Belinda is Brock’s sister, a Madison police officer usually specializing in theft but currently investigating a series of brutal murders. Her brother is interested in her new partner, Jon. Buca is a brownie. Rachel and I seem to keep putting creatures in our stories, mostly because they’re such fun to write. Enjoy!
Before any of them could decide what to do next, Buca reappeared. She seemed a little calmer, but her fists were clenched. “She is evil woman, Bee-of-Tilly. You must stop her.”
“Buca, I dreamed about you the other night,” Belinda blurted. “Did you somehow… do that to me? Was it real?”
Buca cocked her head. “What is real, Bee-of-Tilly? Who can say, with dreams?”
“No, what I mean is, did you come to me in my dream?”
“I is not leaving this house, Bee-of-Tilly,” Buca said in a reproachful tone. “No one is here to be eating my meals or to bring me chocolate.” A fat tear slid down her cheek. “No chocolate. At all.”
“Why not?” The sincere outrage in Brock’s voice made Belinda want to laugh.
“The chocolate isn’t good anymore, Brock-of-Morgan,” Buca whispered, gazing up at him through her lashes. “Not good. No good for Buca, any more.”
It would have taken a stronger man than Brock Gary to deny those eyes. “Buca, would you like me to bring you some chocolate?”
Buca’s whole face transformed. She smiled with an alarming number of teeth and gazed up at Brock, her hands opening. “Brock-of-Morgan would bring Buca chocolate? Good chocolate, dark chocolate, not awful, grainy, pasty stuff?”
“Well, I don’t have any here with me right now,” Brock hedged. “But I have a whole new bar of it at my house.”
“Your house?” Buca echoed. “What house?”
“It’s one of the old Victorians by the lake, near Williamson Street. It’s a pink and purple Queen Anne style.” Brock flushed and stopped talking. He wouldn’t look at Belinda and a flush started up his throat.
“Is painted lady!” Buca hopped in place. “Is pink? And purple?”
Belinda turned to stare at Brock but he wouldn’t meet her gaze. “Yes.” He held his head high but the flush came up over his jaw and both cheeks turned a healthy shade of rose.
“I come and you will give me chocolate. And milk.” She pointed at him with one shiny black nail flashing. “Fresh milk. From a real cow.”
Brock frowned. “As opposed to a goat?”
Buca glared at him. “You is making fun!”
“Match made in heaven,” Jon muttered.
“Shut up,” Brock growled out of the corner of his mouth.
“I is going to look!” Buca shouted and disappeared with another heavy crack.
“She keeps doing that, and your cats are gonna freak,” Jon told Brock.
“What’s Gran going to say when you tell her you tricked a brownie to come live with you?” Belinda demanded.
“I did not,” Brock retorted.
“What do you think the chocolate is for?”
“I felt sorry for her!”
“Yeah? Well, she doesn’t feel sorry anymore, does she? She’s probably making a nest right now. What she’ll make of your painting studio I’ll never know.”
Brock paled and started out the door, his boots echoing. “Come on! We need to go!”
Jon met Belinda’s gaze, clearly trying not to laugh.
When neither of them moved right away, Brock came back and slapped his hand on the doorframe. “Come on, I said!”
Jon rolled his eyes and pushed off the wall. “Bossy, bossy.”
Belinda winked and followed after him.