New Release: PRODIGAL

Here is one of the rejected blurbs for PRODIGAL, the third book in the Maelstrom series…

If angels were aliens and sentient computers were good guys and the super hot Chosen One movie star failed to save the world and then got amnesia and there was an apocalypse…what was I talking about? Oh! PRODIGAL, book 3 of the Maelstrom Chronicles, is a gritty, action-packed, surprisingly humorous examination of the relationship between a kick-ass lady sheriff and the Hollywood hunk who nearly destroyed the world. Together, can they reverse the course of history?


Go buy my book! Amazon, B&N, iTunes, Kobo

Find more links at the Entangled Publishing page!

You can also participate in my BLOG TOUR which has tons of giveaways and interviews and good times. The two winners get to pick between pigs and cats for their giveaway package and it’s active until September 11. You can see it online at the contests page or click the link below to find out how to enter! Author Nina Croft and I are co-sponsoring the contest, so it’s not just my crazy butt doing it.


Jody W & Meankitty *

Independence Day and Kids Making Fun of My Favorite Shit

13465959_10154229825783774_4994453613476773794_nOn one of the group blogs where they let me hang around despite being such a scatterbrained poster, we’re doing a Summer of Magic Blog Hop where you can read fun things and win stuff if you visit the participating authors’ blogs. There is also a grand prize at the Here Be Magic blog. The posts are all be about summery goodness, and I’ve decided to talk about Independence Day.

Not the US Celebration–the movie! Specifically how my kids are finally old enough to see some of my favorite flicks without having nightmares, and we keep showing them our cinematic treasures and they mock them ferociously.

Why are kids such a-holes, man?

Don’t they know that having comic book and sf/f characters on the big screen in the 70s and 80s, despite the now-cheesy elements, was a huge deal for us nerds who’d never thought to see such stories appeal to a mass audience? Star Wars, Star Trek, and other SF movies had aired before, it’s true, but there was definitely an uptick after Star Wars: A New Hope revolutionized special effects–a phenomenon my 14 year old researched and presented for National History Day, no less. So both of my kids KNEW that movie effects haven’t always been the eye- and mind-boggling extravaganza they are now (and I’m sure 30 years from now today’s Force Awakens will get eye rolls from the Youths. I hope my kids enjoy that.) Special effects had to start somewhere.

large_nkj3HRG3g2zjlKRWmjJHvElhX4yOf course, the original Independence Day aired in 1996, years after special effects had become arguably more realistic (Roger Ebert’s Review). But I do have a point! This was one of the movies the hubs and I shared with the kids. Despite how kick-ass that movie is, they still found countless reasons to make fun of it because they’re little jerks. Not the obvious reasons like how Earthlings took down a whole advanced society with a simple computer virus, either. No, they made fun of the dramaz, the over the top, big-budget acting, and their disappointment that the movie didn’t have more women who got to beat up aliens. It was almost all about dudes. (What do you know? I can’t blame them for the last one.)

Nevertheless, they would still like us to spend $15 a ticket and take them to see the new Independence Day in theaters, so they can talk about how much better it is than the first one. (I hear it’s not, but maybe we’ll go see it on budget night, like all new release movies the Wallaces partake of.)

Have you seen the new one? Should we go full-price, bargain-night, or rental? And have YOUR kids or other youths with whom you’ve shared your treasures ever treated you so cruelly?

Angeli by Jody WallaceI have a series about invasive aliens, incidentally. It’s call the Maelstrom Series. I’ll give away an electronic copy of either the first or second volume in the series (the third one isn’t out yet) to the lucky commenter who most impresses my gremlinesque offspring with their comment! Even if it doesn’t have anything to do with the question.

Basically my kids are picking out the winner, so you should try to impress them. GOOD LUCK WITH THAT.

Also, DON’T FORGET TO CHECK OUT THE OTHER BLOG HOP POSTS!  The list is at the main page.



Jody Wallace
Smart. Snarky. Seductive. And that’s just the books. *

Hedgie Wants To Hang Out

Only 1 or 2 more days left for my urban fantasies to be on sale! You can get all the buy links here but what I really want to talk to you about are the hedgehog earrings I said I’d give away to newsletter subscribers.



hedgiesblueAre these the cutest, googly eyed little things you’ve EVER seen or what? I used cotton crochet thread, black glass beads for the nose, and silver findings. I also used some STIFFY to help them keep their shape. Man, they turned out so very well. Would you like a pair?


Here’s what they look like on:

They are definitely big enough to garner some attention but lightweight. They won’t drag your lobes down at all. And I didn’t just make blue ones. I made brown ones!

The brown ones are shaped a little differently, yeah, a little pokier, and they needed extra STIFFY to keep their spines from curling. But variety is the spice of life and your earring collection, am I right?

All you have to do to win these earrings for your own is be a member of my newsletter subscribers when I draw the lucky name here in a few days.

These brown hedgehogs have a bit of an attitude, though. Don’t you think? Or something.

He might be looking at you that way because he wants to come live at your house! But it might be…


And that, friends, is how you get MORE hedgie earrings.

But seriously. Your time’s almost up!

Jody W. & Meankitty

TRAITOR Blog Tour Signups


Please can I come hang out with you?

I’m doing a celebratory blog tour for the release of TRAITOR and I’d love for you to be a part of it. You can sign up (I think) via the official blog tour company at

Or you can just sign up with me, and we’ll figure out what hijinks I will pull on which day at your blog.

I do have some reviewer ARCs available and am willing to share interviews, guest blogs, personalized memes, excerpts, cattifications, cattified excerpts, giveaways of the first book in the series or crocheted items, recipes, jokes, dance steps, artwork, and dream interpretations.

Your choice! Just email me. Dates are, hm, about July 28 through August 11 or so.

Jody W & Meankitty

Gratuitous cat pic


Beta Testers Get Peens!

Now that I’m closer to the publication of the first volumes of the Interactive Adventures of Mari Shu (Earthbound Passion, Martian Conquest), I’m in need of a few hardy beta reader tester types. The novella-length volumes are organized with clickable links at the end of each segment where readers pick a plot path, like the old choose your own adventure game books. I’m hopeful that my ebook formatting is functional and my typos are limited, but I’d love to get some second opinions!

I will crochet one of these for willing victims, if desired:


Folks unimpressed by Mr. Pinkie can make other requests.

Contact me about participating! I have 8 volumes currently planned in the series, but you can earn a peen by beta reading just one. Which is not to say that each testing of each subsequent volume will earn you another peen, but we’ll discuss payment if anyone actually agrees to read more, heh.

Note: Peens can be made to various specifications.

Jody W.

Scary Writing Samples: The Dark Wizard

A Writing Workshop Writing Sample (Right!?!)

(NOTE: Scary Writing Samples is a series of excerpts created by me and others for use in writing workshops. I needed excerpts that weren’t by “real people” so participants would feel free to say what they really thought. If you wish to use any of these as a sample in a writing workshop or other creative endeavor, please contact me first! This one in particular was for training contest judges.)

Princess Morgaine Brianna stomped her dainty foot on the flagstones of the king’s audience chamber and tossed her ebon locks streaked with diamond white. “Uncle!” she demanded. “I will be heard in this chamber, though I am but woman, and a magicless woman at that! I will not marry that cretin Daemon Von Aragonne the Dark Wizard!”

In the kingdom of Dragonne, only females who possessed magical powers of healing and plant speaking were considered worthy of any status but that of wife, mother or serving wench. Morgaine Brianna, though the niece of Good King Theolas, was not regarded as worthy since her only value was that of her exceptional beauty and her relationship to the king–value, yes, but not the value the she desired. She longed more than anything else to be the equal of men and to that end spent most of her time taking sword or horseback riding lessons.

Her uncle normally indulged her but not this time. He had grown tired of her spoiled fits and starts and had decided ‘twas time for her to be married off.

“You shall, too,” he said to his rebellious niece in portentous tones that be spoke no argument. “The contract has already been drawn up and the Dark Wizard arrives at midnight via portal to claim his bride. You should be flattered. The Dark Wizard has never actually taken a bride.”

“I don’t want to marry him. He is rumored to have unnatural appetites.” Brianna shivered in her flowing hunter green woolen gown that complimented her eyes and emphasized the discrete swell of her breasts, which she kept bound as their large size embarrassed her. Women in this age were supposed to be delicate and sylphlike like her mother had been, in Brianna’s mind and most of the Court’s, the epitome of womanly beauty. She had met the Dark Wizard briefly at her come-out ball last year and had been unable to get his dark piercing regard out of her mind, but never did she suspect that behind that hooded gaze dwelled unholy lust for her! No such brooding fiend would bed her, she vowed, for she kept herself sacred for her true love the old gypsy woman at the market promised would come to her.

As she oft did in times of stress, Brianna allowed herself to recall that fateful day. She had crossed the old woman’s palm with silver and in her palm the woman had read of a long life and many children, all with a man who would be her true love. She also read a dark and divided destiny to come and troubles, but Brianna had figured that would be the case for any in the beleaguered Dragonne, beset on one side by the sea and its pirates and on the other by the mountains and their goblins. “Your true love will wear two faces and only you will see the fair one,” intoned the old gypsy woman with her many scarves. “Be not afraid and be not afraid to seek your true destiny, though others will tell you it’s too dangerous.”

And now she was supposed to give up that shining future, that man who would love her despite her magiclessness and her unfashionable body, for her uncle’s politics? Oh if only her parents had lived to be king and queen but alas they had been lost in the first Goblin wars defending the borders. Her uncle was a barely competent substitute who was barely holding the kingdom together and had a son of his own, her horrid cousin Nesbitt, who would inherit now since Brianna had no magic. Any man could inherit but unless a woman had magic, she was but a druge or a possession.

Her uncle was unfair and blinded by greed for power. He thought she didn’t know but Brianna was no fool. “He has made your marriage a condition of our alliance,” the king said. “Who would gainsay the Dark Wizard, the head of the Wizard’s Kirk?”

“Then I shall…run away!” declared the saucy wench. Her uncle’s serving maids who waited to either side with grapes and wine gasped in shock.

Uncle Theolas laughed but he was not amused. He had plans for the kingdom and they didn’t include this young woman, though using her to cement an alliance with Aragonne was an admirable way to be rid of her. He’d have an alliance and doubtless with the Dark Wizard as her husband she would not last long enough to discover her true destiny. “You will not make a fool of me! We need to ally with the Kingdom of Aragonne to hold off the dreaded Goblin Hordes when they attack. You know they mass upon our borders and only the failing might of the weak border lords hold them back with incongruous magics.”

“Then perhaps I could try again to be tested and…”

“But no!” the King cried out, afraid for his plans. “You know that if a female has not evidenced her power by the time she reaches her sixteenth birthday, then it is dangerous to undergo the testing again to see if any latent powers could be made to surface with a Bonding.” Brianna, at nineteen, was long past the time for such rituals to be considered safe or fruitful though sometimes they were attempted on peasant girls whose parents had both been magical, through the Wizard’s Kirk. But Brianna was no peasant girl and had be better used as a marriage prize. “I cannot lose you to that. I love you too much,” he continued and tried to let a gentle love show in his rheumy gaze.

“But you can lose me to the Dark Wizard?” Brianna retorted, stamping her foot with anger. Her uncle’s love for her would have touched her heart had her heart not already been hard to all men. Especially after knowing the truth about what happened to her cousin Fey, her uncle’s daughter by his second wife who died long ago. Nay, she would not marry any member of the Wizard’s Kirk with that knowledge! Nesbitt was the son of her uncle’s first wife who had died even longer ago. Her uncle did not have a third wife though Brianna would have loved to have more women in the house, especially a magically empowered woman who could have spoken for her step-niece in this matter. Her uncle wouldn’t bother with a woman who wasn’t magically endowed.

“We need his strength and the Kirk’s cooperation to link our failing border stones,” the King raged. “It is your duty. Even if you were to have latent magics this late in your life, they would not serve in war except for healing and no gently bred girl needs to be healing soldiers. ‘Tis not womanly.”

“Oooh!” Brianna said angrily. “You are so sexist! I hate you.” And with that she rushed off to her room in the tower of the grand castle but her uncle, in fear of her rash actions, had his guards lock her door to await the Dark Wizard’s pleasure.

Now that the princess was gone the king cackled with glee and called for his son. “Nesbitt, my lad,” he said to the young man with a hungry look in his eyes and a scrawny frame, “the girl is as good as out of here. Nobody will suspect me since I merely want to cement the borders. It was a wonderful plan I had!” King Theolas gazed upon his son and for a moment could see the features of his first wife, a strong witch who had been his only true love. She had perished giving birth to Nesbitt and Theolas had pined all his hopes and dreams upon the boy.

“Yes of course father.” Nesbitt’s beady eyes lingered on the throne but soon switched to the serving maid. She was a comely wench with flowing black hair not unlike his tempestuous, beautiful cousin. Though he agreed that the girl could not be allowed to discover her true destiny it was a shame the Dark Wizard would destroy her. Nesbit admired the wench and would bed her anon for she was naught but a magicless female but he lusted after his cousin in his heart. He always chose dark haired woman and pretended they were Morgaine Brianna, even made them wear clothes of hers he stole. Though she too was magicless, he would have married her if his father had allowed it but his father had become too insecure in his old age. The girl’s destiny could never be discovered as long as she continued to wear the pendant they told her was her mother’s that had been left to her when her mother perished. And if he knew Brianna–and he did know her, thanks to all the priest holes in the castle he used to spy on her–she would never take off the reminder of her beloved parents.

Well, his father was old. He was the only child though sometimes he missed his sister, who had been a sweet girl not unlike his Stepmother. She had almost brought goodness and light into this dark house but had wasted away after the death of Fey in the testing by the Wizard’s Kirk that had been…too vigorous, King Theolas too desperate to find great power in one of his offspring, as Nesbitt’s power was weak. The Wizard’s Kirk had even then been led by Daemon of Aragonne, and surely it was no coincidence he wanted another Dragonne female.

Weak power had not weakened Nesbitt’s brain. Perhaps something could be arranged so Nesbitt could still have the girl for himself, perhaps after the Dark Wizard was done with her. He didn’t require the girl’s soul after all, just her body… He hastened off to alter the contract with the Dark Wizard and add a clause about if his uncle died then the girl would have to be released to Dragonne to be with her family as the only surviving female in the Dragonne line.

* * *

Daemon tossed and turned upon his soft, goose down mattress as the dream beset him. Wolves slavered at his heels as he ran through the woods, briars slashing his naked limbs and some desperate sense of transformation in his heart. He just knew he had to hurry, he had to get there before…before…he wasn’t sure but every time in his dream, he was too late. He reached the deep, still pool in the heart of the Endlesse Forest just in time to gaze upon his own pain wracked visage as it warped in the light of the moon, becoming….

Daemon cried out and his hand struck warm, yielding flesh. A feminine shriek and Daemon bolted awake and grappled with the stranger in his bed. He clasped strong fingers about the vulnerable neck of his attacker, squeezing squeezing….

“Please milord,” his victim cried. “You’re only dreaming.”

It was Betsy, the downstairs maid whom he sometimes took to his bed when the need was upon him. Betsy or Jill or Janetta or — when the need was upon him, he cared little, so long as she was warm and mostly willing. He could persuade her with his skillful lovemaking.

He let her go. She sat up in bed and rubbed her throat. A fearful look in her eye as she took in his naked form. “Perhaps I should go, ’tis nearly the cock’s cry,” she said.

His manhood rose as he gazed upon her large, pert breasts and frightened eyes. “Some cock is arising but ‘tis not the one you think,” he said, surprised at the growl of his voice. It reminded him of something…. Something that escaped him, like a lingering touch of his dream.

The maid’s gaze dropped to his monstrous appliance stirring to life at his thighs. “Yikes,” she said.

“Love me one more time, Betsy,” he said. “For tonight I wed my bride, and I doubt she’ll be such a good lay.”

The maid tittered. “Surely you could continue to…”

“No, Aragonne men are faithful to their mates. I need a son, Betsy, a son that I can’t get on a girl like you. No offense, but your parents weren’t wizards. The Wizard’s Kirk prophet says it has to be Morgaine Brianna for me, though they won’t say why.”

“I would not have wizards for parents,” shuddered the maid.

Daemon moved atop the woman and pressed her back into the pillows to dispel the last remnants of his bad dream. “Do you forget that your lover is a wizard?” he asked with a glint in his eye.

“No…no my lord,” whispered Betsy, suddenly afraid, and it was that fear that drove Daemon into her willing body with the sharp edge of desire.

Nay, the little Dragonne wench would never be this good a lay, but she would be afraid…and that was something.

All women feared the Dark Wizard. He struck fear into their hearts, not love, and it was safer that way–safer that he could never be awoken to love himself. For in his dreams, fear for the safety of his true love drove him, and it was her, his love, whom he failed in the end.

He had vowed to never penetrate or even be long around a woman who didn’t fear him, so he would never be put in that position. Now the fear had become an aphrodisiac stronger than powdered unicorn’s horn.

* * *

Brianna tightened the last knot on her rope of sheets and started trailing them off the balcony to the ground. They could almost reach and she could jump into a tree for the rest of the way. Her time spent doing boyish things would finally pay off when she escaped down the wall! She just wished there was a way to untie the sheet rope so her uncle would think she had found her latent powers on her own and turned herself into a bird or convinced a vine of ivy to serve as her rope.

Brianna had packed what she’d need for her flight and before leaving clasped her mother’s amulet in her small hand to utter a prayer for luck. The metal amulet was shaped like a dragon with a round, odd red stone as its belly, that was where the fire of the legendary beast was made. There were no longer dragons in Dragonne or anywhere else she knew of, having been hunted out hundreds of years ago, but still it was the symbol of her kingdom. She had thought it strange that her mother would pick such a red, manly amulet as her soulstone but she had grown used to the little beast and never felt dressed without it.

Then she put both her legs over the balcony and began the long downward climb, shimmying from knot to knot like a monkey from the far-off land of Affrikana. Her pack with her provisions and clothes slapped against her back. She climbed down and down, trembling with trepidation, until she reached the end of her rope. She swung to the branches of a huge oaken tree.

Unfortunately the oaken tree had a bole as big around as her tower, nearly and no branches close to the ground. Brianna hadn’t counted on this! She rubbed her scraped hands against her skirts which she had kirtled up around her waist for safer climbing. There were no soldiers as she had planned her downward climb during the change in guards. She had ten more minutes before they would come around here again, see the sheet, and find her, and she planned to be well hid by that time.

She heard a cheerful whistling from the gardens below her and looked to see a tall man in brown peasant’s garb striding along the path headed towards the palace. Who could that be? He was not from around here but he was very attractive in a large man type of way. The sun shone upon his dark brown hair which was long enough to go down past his collar, not the style of the times but attractive on him, with his manly, strong face that you would never mistake as effeminate.

Brianna summoned up her courage and decided if he wasn’t from around here he wouldn’t know who she was.

“Psst,” she said. “You there. I need assistance.”

The man glanced up, and she was swallowed into his dark black eyes for a moment, as a chill of strange desire rattled through her. Then his eyes were naught but a soft brown like her favorite boots.

“Hello there,” he said. “What have we here, a pretty little bird in a tree?”

“I’m not a bird, and you know it,” she said, not liking the tone of the rascally knave. “I merely require some help getting down. There was a kitten I meant to assist, and it has scampered off and left me. I would not be surprised to find the kitten was but a mischievous sprite that managed to find its way into the palace gardens. Little wretch.”

He stood under her and looked up admiring her legs bared so she could climb. If she kept his eyes on her he wouldn’t notice her sheet rope down the tower wall. She would have to suffer his gaze on her legs and smiled her prettiest.

“Please, sir,” she begged. “My mistress is the Princess Brianna Morgaine and she would not like for me to be late.”

“Well, if it’s for her royal highness I suppose I should help.” The man held up his arms. “Drop into my arms and I shall catch you.”

“It is too far!” she protested. She didn’t want to be in his arms! That was closer than she ever was to men, except her cousin and uncle. He didn’t look like a detested Wizard but most men couldn’t be trusted. You had to have a certain degree of power before you could join the Wizard’s Kirk although never were females allowed to join, no matter their power. Some minor wizards had been said to suck the power from witches to achieve the Wizard’s Kirk. She bit back a tear at the thought of her cousin Fey.

“Surely if you weren’t afraid to climb up the tree it isn’t too far to come down?” the man taunted.

“If you drop me,” she threatened, overcoming her momentary sadness, “I shall beat you about the head and shoulders.”

“I’m not afraid,” he laughed.

There was nothing else for it. First she threw down her pack, which he caught with a grunt. At his expression, she raised an eyebrow and explained, “I have been doing my mistress’s laundry.”

Then she carefully got on her belly on the branch and let herself slide slowly off, conscious of the fact that her legs were exposed to her short knickers and the knave below was having a great view! As she’d hoped, he didn’t notice the sheet because he was too busy ascertaining that she wore knickers and did not go with her parts abroad as was the habit of some forward wenches beneath their skirts.

Just in case he grew bored with the view when he discovered she was fully clothed beneath, she gave a little wriggle to her behind that she’d heard her maids discuss that a man much loved to see. It made her feel a bit cheap, yet also a bit excited, to know a man was inspecting her as a female instead of having the boundary of royal princess to protect her. Her uncle and cousin would have thrown any man in the dungeons who dared to eye her as the man below. She could still see him over her shoulder, having not let go of the branch, and his eyes were indeed trained on her thighs and perhaps more. He winked at her in a knowing fashion.

“Come on, just a bit further,” he encouraged, and she didn’t know if he meant for her to drop or to raise her skirts!

There was only so far a princess was willing to go to be rescued. She dropped, her heart pattering in her chest, and he caught her hard in a pair of very muscular arms.

“I think you owe me after that,” he said when she caught her breath and gazed up at him. He barely even staggered with the impact of her weight. Her green eyes widened at the suggestion in his. “I think…a kiss.”

“Nay!” she gasped, but he silenced her missish complaint with his lips.

Instantly desire surged through her just as when his eyes had seemed as black as midnight. But that had been just her imagination, perhaps her excitement at the escape, this was real, very real. She clung to him and sighed into his mouth as his hot, questing tongue awakened parts of her she had no idea were connected to her mouth and lips. She had only ever been kissed by her horrid cousin Nesbitt who had several times attempted to force himself on her, only to be convinced otherwise by a swift knee to the ballocks. It had been awful and slimy and not like this blissful erotic sensation that turned her limbs quickly to quivering jelly.

She heard the tower bells that told the hour ring and realized the guards would soon be here. She could not allow them to find her! Not only would her uncle and cousin have this man jailed but her perilous climb down the tower wall would have been for naught.

“Oh, oh, I must go!” she said, breaking off the kiss. Shame blossomed through her at her wanton actions. Yet still she did not want him to come to harm by the king’s wrath. “You cannot kiss me.” She could not tell him the real reason why as a common maid without magic would have been free to kiss as she pleased. “I…I…have not granted you permission!”

“Don’t worry, I won’t kiss you again…Princess,” he said. “At least not until tonight.”

Her lips moist from his kiss she gasped. “How did you know who I was?”

Those brown, cheerful eyes turned suddenly black again and she felt a sputter of fear like when she had climbed over the balcony and her death awaited below if her hands but slipped. “Why, don’t you recognize me, my love? I am your betrothed, the Dark Wizard, or so I’m called.” He shrugged and let her down out of his arms but still held her tightly. “King Theolas called and asked me to come early for the ceremony since he was afraid you’d run away. Looks like I was just in time.”

“You tricked me! You shan’t kiss me again!” Her scraped fists beat his chest. How could this be?

“I shall,” he said, and touched one of her white streaks, the only thing she had of her mother besides the dragon, “and you shall like it, my wee frightened virgin.” Her limbs turned to water and she felt the thrust of him against her belly, as his desire surged convulsively in response to her panic.

What manner of man was he? As evil as they said and willing to drink of human souls to increase his power…or was he the merry rascal who’d stolen her first real kiss?

He let her go but his eyes were still black as night, black and deep as the pool of truth in the heart of the Endlesse Forest, or so it was rumored. “But you’ll have to wait for that kiss until tonight. At which juncture you’ll belong to me and have no say in the matter. Too bad, so sad.”


© 2005 Jody Wallace

Scary Writing Samples: Nowhere to Hide

A Writing Workshop Writing Sample (Right!?!)

(NOTE: Scary Writing Samples is a series of excerpts created by me and others for use in writing workshops. I needed excerpts that weren’t by “real people” so participants would feel free to say what they really thought. If you wish to use any of these as a sample in a writing workshop or other creative endeavor, please contact me first! This one in particular was for training contest judges.)

Detective Wolf Rivers stared at the naked, slashed body of the dead woman on the tarmac and wondered where he’d put his smokes.  Gross blood pooled in a scarlett puddle on the ground and there were no tire tracks.  It was nearly midnight.  The CSI team has found no fingerprints or identifying information on the woman to say who killed her.  But she couldn’t have been dead long because steam still rose from her body in the cold rain.

A crowd from the airport gathered around the yellow police tape.  His partner, Detective O’Malley, from a long time family of Irish cops wrote down notes in his notebook.  They had been partners for years and had learned to trust each others instincts.  Even though O’Malley didn’t know everything there was to know about Wolf’s secrets. If he had just been a beautiful woman, Wolf would have had it made, only he had little use for women, except when they had information he needed.  Or maybe a cigarrete.  He always needed a cigarrette when he was upset by a terrible crime like this one.  Where were his smokes?

Other uniformed policemen and some airport security stood around and kept the onlookers from violating the crime scene.  Like this poor woman had been violated.

“Let me go!” a hysterical female voice cried out.  “That’s my sister!”

“Let her through,” he said, instantly suspicious she should just happen to show.  It wouldn’t be the first time sister had murdered sister.  The vertical slashes in the dead woman’s throat spoke of great force.  He wasn’t sure the slight, waiflike, distraught female being led up to him by a uniform was capable of such force.  Her long, blonde curls hung in tangled waves over full breasts.  Her body was lush yet too delicate for this kind of violence.  She had beestinged lips and blue eyes big enough to drown in.  Only he wasn’t in the mood to go skinnydipping.

“You say this is your sister?” he ground out harshly.  “It is funny you would just show up.  Did you do this to her?”  She was a little thing, barely 5’2” except in those ridiculous heels women insisted on wearing.  He didn’t understand women.  Not even after all his years of experience with life.

“Oh god no, my twin sister!” she cried out.  She tried to fall to her knees but it would have gotten blood on her cream colored Anne Taylor trousers and the cop holding her made her stay on her feat.  How could this man, this tall brooding man with the piercing, mysterious eyes just ask if she done this without so much as a by your leave?  She had loved her sister even though her sister had been the black shep of the family.

“No, I don’t know” Cara said.  “I last saw her two hours ago when she was headed for the little girls room.  We were here to pick up a package that her fiance in Venezuela mailed through air post.  The plane was late.  And then she disappeared!”  Cara tried to end a big sob and failed.  They waited for her to get a grip.  A cop patted her shoulder, but she got no sympathy from the arrogant, sexy detective.  He had a Native American appearance, wide cheekbones, his hair cropped short.  His nose looked like it might of been broken.  He wouldn’t of looked out of place in a biker bar in different clothes than his rumpled suit.  In short he looked dangerous.

She couldn’t believe this was happening.  Her poor sister, though they had been estranged for years, was dead on the tarmac bleeding her life away and the detective thought she might have done it.  Yet she couldn’t help herself, she felt a stir of something deep within when he pierced her with his brooding gaze, like he thought she knew more than she was telling.  She bet he looked at all the girls like that, it was his job after all.

“Did you get your package?” he asked.  “What is in it?”  He knew it could be drugs, coming in from Venezuela.  Which would make this some kind of gang hit.  He got on his walkie talkie and had them bring in the drug dogs for flight 564 out of Atlanta.

Turning away, Cara said “I…I didn’t get it.” She wondered what had happened to the package. At the counter, they told her it had been picked up.  They didn’t know who. The person who gave it out had gone home for the night.  She thought Sara had gotten it but how could she have, when she lay here dead on the tarmac like a broken child’s doll?

The detective turned to the man with the glasses in the white coat, she guessed it was the coronor.  “What did you say her name was?”

“Sara Lytton” Cara said.  “She was 25 years old this June.  We both were, we are twins.  Our parents are dead from a car wreck when we were only eight.  We only had each other in the world, except her boyfriend Marcus.  She thought he was sending her an engagement ring!  Now we’ll never know if she was to be married and turn her life around!”  Her voice broke on a sob.

The detective and his partner took her away from the body of her sister on the tarmac.  “Miss Lytton– it is Miss, right?” said the red-headed partner. She wondered why he was trying to flirt with her at a time like this?  He stepped her to close and she stepped away.

“Yes” she answered in a shaky voice.

“You must come down to the station house and answer questions.  I would like to take you there myself and then maybe out for some coffee.”  He looked so hopeful.  Cara didn’t understand why guys always hit on her, an innocent who had been raised by their old fashioned grandparents and sent to boarding school. She had no idea of the appeal of her lush body and naturally blonde hair.  And how men loved to tarnish that innocence with their lusts.  “Do you know if your sister had enemies?”

“No, she was nice!  I mean, she could get wild but everyone liked her.  Nobody would do this to her, she was everyone’s friend, not like me” she cried out bitterly. “I don’t understand!”

Wolf tilted Cara Lytton’s chin up so she had to meet his eyes.  He had to make her understand this was no game.  He insisted, “We’ll find the guy who did this.” Not sure why he felt the need to comfort this woman.  Vampires like him had no feelings and yet, he was feeling for her. It could not be so he ignored it. What he knew for sure was it had to be a guy who did this or a very mad woman with great upper body strength.  Nobody deserved this way to die.

Just then a woman in the crowd screamed “He’s got a gun!” and a shot rang out, taking his partner O’Malley by surprise in the shoulder.

“Down Everybody!”  Wolf shoved Cara to the ground behind him to make the smallest target and chased the shooter.  But the shadowy figure in a plain brown coat was too fast even for his inhuman speed and disappeared behind some airplanes into the mechanical hanger.

Wolf rallied the uniformed policemen to search the hanger by fisting his hand and pointing three fingers down.  He walkie talkied for reinforcements.  The shooter could have been the same one who brutally murdered Sara Lytton on the tarmac.  With that kind of speed he would be dagerous, maybe even inhuman.  Maybe the killer thought they were getting too close to some clues. Or maybe the shooter was after something else entirely.

When he got back his partner O’Malley, was being carried off by the paramedics, flashing lights making his Irish face look even redder than the pain made it look.  He was going to be okay but it was never any fun to take a 9 mm to the shoulder.  Wolf had it happen once, a woman had been the one who did it.

He guessed this took Cara Lytton out of the running for suspect.  He couldn’t shake the fact that the two girls were twins and that this might be some kind of mix-up.  “We’re going to have to take you to a safe house” the detective growled out.  He had forgotten his need for a smoke as an unexpected protectiveness rose up in him.  He spend his life protecting the weaker humans but never got personal.  It was just his job to make sure the humans didn’t find out about the vampire crimes by sweeping them under the rug.

“I’ll be fine” she argued.  She didn’t want to be locked in a safe house with his man!  His dark looks and chiseled jaw turned her insides to molten lava and her knees to water.  Not a good combination because if the two substances met they made black, ugly rocks.

“Don’t fight me on this.”  Again he took her by the chin and stared into her eyes.  His smoky breath washed over her.  He smelled her sweet pulse like nectar of flowers in the summer sun he never got to see, his incisors lengthened with the urge to taste her.  He tried to hide them.  He only dined on criminals and cold blood bags not, innocent humans.  “I know what I’m doing.  You’ll be thafe with me.”  He would protect her with his unlife.

Yet the way his black gaze devored her Cara wondered, would her heart be safe.


© 2005 Jody Wallace

Scary Writing Samples: The Detective and the Forger

A Writing Workshop Writing Sample (Right!?!)

(NOTE: Scary Writing Samples is a series of excerpts created by me and others for use in writing workshops. I needed excerpts that weren’t by “real people” so participants would feel free to say what they really thought. If you wish to use any of these as a sample in a writing workshop or other creative endeavor, please contact me first! This one in particular was for training contest judges.)

Detective Sean Hagger was really pissed off. He’d been put on stake-out duty again spinning his wheels watching some bimbo to see if she was connected to a 5 state check forgery scam. Like any woman who looked like the woman he was spying on would be smart enough for that.

She was truly any man’s dream–hell, she was his dream. Long, long tan legs, breasts like two perfect melons, a flat stomach, kissable lips, and a beautiful cascade of golden blonde curls that had never been touched by Miss Clairol. Sean was no beautician, but he knew all about nude women. And right now his high test binoculars were squarely zeroed in on her through her bedroom window, butt naked right out of the bath. Unless Miss Clairol was making a new kind of dye, Ariel Cynthia Collinsworth was quite blonde all over.

Okay there were some benefits to stake-outs. He lazily grabbed one of his bran muffins–no doughnuts for him, thanks–to munch as he watched the show. If his partner Barney’d been here, they’d have fought over the binocs, but Barney was combing through files at the office.

The woman could be a Playboy Playmate, but a forger who’d been illegally spending other people’s money across 5 states? He didn’t think so. And her house and stuff wasn’t even that nice. She wrapped a towel around her and it was so old and shrank up it hardly covered her heiney. Surely she’d of bought herself some new towels if she had all that money.

A dark shadow blocked out his vision momentarily before the binoculars were ripped quickly out of his hands. “What the hell are you doing, you dang peeping pervert?” His expensive high power surveillance binocs hit the pavement with a crash, thrown there by a strange, angry woman, fire blazing from her snapping green eyes.

This one was obviously nondescript enough to be a forger, but she wasn’t Ariel Collinsworth. So who was she and how had she snuck up on him? He knew the neighborhood routines pretty well after a couple nights, he knew the neighbors too and he didn’t recognize this one.

“I’m calling the police,” she seethed. “I got your tag already, smart guy.” She pulled a cellular phone out of her fannie pack. She was dressed in a jogging outfit and her brown hair was in a ponytail. Nondescript, yeah, but there was something sexy about her….

As she glared at him, he casually grabbed his badge from the dash and flashed it. “How can I be of service, Ma’am?”


© 2005 Jody Wallace

Scary Writing Samples: Date with a Vampire

A Writing Workshop Writing Sample (Right!?!)

(NOTE: Scary Writing Samples is a series of excerpts created by me and others for use in writing workshops. I needed excerpts that weren’t by “real people” so participants would feel free to say what they really thought. If you wish to use any of these as a sample in a writing workshop or other creative endeavor, please contact me first! This one in particular was for training contest judges.)

It was official. Hallie Jenkins had hit the single girl’s rock bottom. Not to be confused with an expanding bottom, a different sort of nightmare. She’d finally let her sister Serena convince her to accept a blind date with a guy “who’d be perfect for if she’d just give him a chance.”

An emphasis on the “give him a chance”. Hallie knew what that meant. She could picture this guy, this Rafael D’arngel, as clearly as if she’d taken his snapshot for one of the company’s calendars. Defying his exotic name, he’d be about five eight, not much hair, made up for it in belly. Either painfully shy or a social mutant who thought everybody appreciated his jokes about politics or quantum physics. I mean, the guy was in computers, and instead of phoning her to arrange the details, he’d sent an email with a detailed itinerary, response requested for approval.

Why, why, why had she done this to herself?

Oh yeah. Serena had agreed to pose as Miss September in the “Babes in Body Armor” calendar, saving Hallie from the unpleasant task of interviewing models yet again when the previous Miss September came up with an unsightly rash. Why did models think they were too good to be Miss September, anyway?

Most of the time Hallie loved her job as the photoshoot coordinator cum assistant artistic director at Kooky Calendars, a small company that created–you guessed it–offbeat calendars, address books, mousepads and the like. Kooky specialized in unique themes and did their own camera work instead of buying stock photography and slapping it on 8×10 glossies.

Not that there was a lot of ready made stock of attractive women wearing chain mail, Kevlar vests and various sections of plate. And that was just the current project. She was also simultaneously working on “Space Pets: The New Breed”, “Men Who Love Cheese,” “This Ain’t Yo Momma’s Momma”, “Landfill Heaven” and…what was that other one Marketing just tossed out…”Gothic House Beautiful.” It was a great job, if a hassle, but she liked to keep busy.

Too busy to date or think about the fact she didn’t have any dates. At least, not until Serena sucker-punched her with Rafael D’arngel. And what a name, anyway. Hallie wasn’t ready to go on this date, not mentally, but she was dressed and her purse lay on the foyer table along with her coat. According to the date itinerary, Rafael was arriving at approximately 7:00 pm, and here it was 6:53. She wasn’t taking any chances of letting this guy loose in her home while she scrabbled under her bed for her other black sandal.

Hallie knocked back a shot of Dutch courage, otherwise known as whiskey, brushing her teeth in case Rafael was a teetotaler and the smell of Jack on her breath offended him. 6:59. Peeking out the three staggered glass windows in her front door, she checked to see if any cars had pulled up while she was in the kitchen. Nothing.

Hallie counted the cash in her purse–enough to catch a cab from downtown plus tip. She checked her teeth in the foyer mirror–no lipstick. The itinerary indicated a meal from 7:20 until 8:45, a movie at the Crispen art theatre from 9:10 until 11:00 and a moonlit drive down the coast until 12:15, at which point they would be arriving at her doorstep, date completed.

7:03, still no unfamiliar cars. Hallie leaned against the door, sighing. The central heat and air clicked on, loud in the otherwise silent house, and in the background she heard the neighbor’s dog bark.

It had been a long week, and she wasn’t as peppy as she used to be. She glanced longingly at the cushy leather sofa in her den, quickly deciding against it.

7:12 pm. Was Rafael the Nerd Standing her up on her very first blind date ever?

No such luck. Making her stomach plummet, the doorbell rang. She exhaled a careful breath to see if she smelled Jack before unlocking her front door.

No nerd stood there. She couldn’t have been more wrong about Rafael D’arngel. On her doorstep stood a tall, swarthy man with a rakish grin who could easily have posed for their “Would You Like Fries With That?” hunk calendar.

“Hallie?” he said, his voice like an aural massage with a slight, Continental accent. “I’m Rafael, your sister’s acquaintance. I apologize for my lateness. We had some unexpected complications with a new project.” He checked his watch, a large silver affair with a raised face. “Our reservations are for….”

“7:20,” she breathed. Bless you, Serena.

“Right-o. Shall we?” He smiled, exposing very white teeth, and anything else she’d been about to foolishly babble, like “Is this a joke?” caught in her throat.

She grabbed her purse and light jacket and Rafael stood back to allow her to exit and lock her door. She smelled something like cologne, but also a little like electricity.

A sleek silver sports car with tinted windows idled behind her Toyota on the street. He opened her door first before walking around the car and sliding into the black leather seats.

“Nice car,” she said as he was pulling away from the curb.

He shrugged. “It suits my purposes.” Something high and tight started whining through the car’s speakers and he quickly adjusted a knob on a black box on the console like a taxi meter.

“What’s that?” she asked. “Old-style radar detector?”

Rafael quirked a sexy black eyebrow. “Not exactly.”

He didn’t say anything else, and neither did she. His eyes were twitching between the busy road and the little black box, no longer making noise but flashing numbers and symbols on a small read-out on the front.

“Is it a taxi meter?” she asked jokingly. “To make sure I pay for my share of the gas?”

Frowning, Rafael adjusted another knob on the small machine’s face. “Certainly not.”

Well, that joke had gone over like a pin-up calendar at a Baptist revival. Though the baby soft bucket seat was the height of luxury, Hallie soon found herself fidgeting when the silence grew oppressive. She’d never been on a blind date before, but she’d been dates back in the day, and only when she or her date had been sulking had there been such a long hush. Surely a man who looked like Rafael wasn’t shy?

“Are you looking forward to the movie,” she asked.

“Of course.” His hands were on the steering wheel in perfect ten and two o’clock position as they followed along behind a black SUV down the coastal highway east of Biloxi.

She nibbled on a nail. “Where are we going to dinner?”

Rafael waited a long moment before finally speaking. Hallie wondered if he had a quota of words and had to figure out the best way not to exceed it. “That’s a surprise.”

Mr. Talkative he was not. Her thrill of Rafael’s gorgeous appearance gave way to the urge to yank out her cellophone and call up her sister for a little talk. Maybe she hadn’t had a date since her break-up with Jonathan Ives–of the Massachusetts Ives–but these painful ten minutes were proving to her there was a great reason for that.

Finally Hallie could stand it no longer. There was no reason to be miserable for a while night, no matter that the guy making her miserable looked like Daniel Day Lewis in LAST OF THE MOHICANS. “Look, if you don’t want to have dinner with me, let’s not.”

“Why would you…” he began before his little magic box started emitting staticky sounds and the read-out flashing in frantic way. Rafael tensed, checking the traffic around them quickly, and pressed harder on the gas pedal.

“If it’s a radar detector, why are you speeding up?” Hallie, staring at the cars around them, noticed a preponderance of black SUVs. Gas guzzlers, she thought. “Isn’t the point to avoid the notice of the cops?”

“It’s not a radar detector.” Rafael swung into the passing lane, jetting around the SUV in front of them. Hallie glanced at the driver, noticing he was wearing dark sunglasses at night, as did his companion, and both of them were staring at her. It was a muggy night, and the windows of the SUV were down. The breeze didn’t ruffle the two men’s gelled hair.

The guy in the passenger’s seat shifted, aiming some kind of weapon that looked like a crossbow straight at her. Or was he aiming it at Rafael?

“That guy has crossbow!” she shrieked, ducking. “What the hell is he doing?”

“Blast!” Cursing, Rafael accelerated even more, weaving in and out of traffic as they drew closer and closer to the center of town. Hallie tried controlling her racing heartbeat. Biloxi was a midsize Mississippi town, nothing like New Orleans, but sometimes the gambling attracted an unsavory element.

Something popped into her window and cracked it but didn’t shatter the glass.

“He shot your car!” Hallie screamed. “Rafael, what the hell?”

“I did not anticipate the Hunters would locate me so soon,” he said. “Please be patient, Miss Jenkins. All will be revealed to you when we reach Sanctuary.”

Hallie had no idea what this guy was talking about, but she was definitely calling Stephanie to come get her as soon as her life was no longer in immediate danger.


© 2005 Jody Wallace

Scary Writing Samples: To Gamble on Love

A Writing Workshop Writing Sample (Right!?!)

(NOTE: Scary Writing Samples is a series of excerpts created by me and others for use in writing workshops. I needed excerpts that weren’t by “real people” so participants would feel free to say what they really thought. If you wish to use any of these as a sample in a writing workshop or other creative endeavor, please contact me first! This one in particular was for training contest judges.)

Life was a dice roll, and then you crapped out.

Raela lined black cole pencil around her eyes in the mirror with round bulb lights around it, and leaned back to see how it looked. It made her big sparkling blue eyes look like a Siamese cat with the black pencil in points to either side.

Beside her, Bubbles stuffed her silicon-enhanced breasts into a red teddy and painted glitter in her cleavage. She wanted to get men to look at her chest and glitter attracted the eyes. It was an old trick she had told Raela. Raela might be an exotic dancer but she would never turn to surgical enhancements to change her long, volupus body with naturally full breasts. No her employment at the men’s Club was only temporary, until she got enough money to pay for Josh’s Medical bills.

If only Josh’s father had been around to help out with her beloved son but, no, she’d sent him a letter when she found out she was pregnant after she went back to college and he never answered. The bastard had loved her and left her after one amazing summer, one amazing series of hot days and even hotter nights. She’d been fresh out of her freshman year at State College and waiting tables at a bar and he’d swept her off her feet like an old broom.

She should of known it was too good to be true. She should of known he would just leave because she was nobody, Raela Sanders from the wrong side of the tracks while he was one of town’s high society. He was too good to have anything to do with her and her baby so she decided to raise Joshua on her own.

Raela had loved Chase, Josh’s father so much but if he could do that to her he didn’t deserve to know anything about his wonderful child. She quit college and moved to Las Vegas to get a dancing job, she’d always been naturally graceful and a good dancer and it didn’t require a degree. She wasn’t able to finish her English studies because of the baby, but she was working towards her degree here, little by little. One day she’d be respectable and show the world.

But tonight there was a bachelor party in the champagne room, her, Bubbles and Susie were going to entertain the party animals. She wondered who the guy was that wasn’t scared to commit to a future with a woman and get married. He must not be anything like Chase who had left her pregnant and destitute. She knew in her heart of hearts Chase Garrison-Smythe would never get married and his older brother Peter would carry on the family name while he ran the family business. He had no idea that he even had a family, already, one he just didn’t want.

Raela hated the private parties. The alcohol crazed partiers competed to see who could get the most outrageous. The guys technically weren’t allowed to touch the dancers, not even for a lot of money, but other girls let them to get better tips.

Not Raela. Only one man had ever touched her and she’d keep it that way forever.

# # #

Chase straightened the collar of his monkey suit. He wished he’d never agreed to fly with his old college buds to Las Vegas for his bachelor party. He really wished they hadn’t talked him into coming to one of the hottest strip clubs in town. Misty wouldn’t like it, and if Misty didn’t like it, she’d make him totally miserable about it.

Hell, when it come right down to it he wished he wasn’t getting married, but with Peter’s death it was up to him to carry on the family name and have the little grandkids his family was always going on about. The thought of his brother made Chase hate where he was and what he was doing even more. Peter would never have stooped this low. Peter wouldn’t have gotten married to somebody like Misty, either, but his cranky grandfather, the company CEO, had given him a deadline before he gave the reins to their cousin Beauregard the scumbag.

He couldn’t let that happen. So he’d suffer through these low-class dancer routines and pretend to enjoy himself before returning to Boston to marry Misty and make his family happy. Didn’t matter if he was happy. He’d been so busy making himself happy that what had happened to Peter had…happened.

Hell, man, it was the eve of his wedding nearly, he shouldn’t be thinking about that! Maybe he should get good and drunk. He held up his hand for the waitress and ordered a whiskey on the rocks with a shooter of whiskey off the rocks.

Then the dancers strutted into their room that was off in the back of the big strip club with its own little private stage and, of course, a pole.

“Yeah baby!” yelled his friend Bruce when a blonde with amazingly blue eyes shook back her hair and struck a teacher’s ruler against her palm. She had on a tight white blouse with straining buttons and a tiny black skirt.

“Where’s the bad boy who needs a lesson?” she asked. All his drunk friends pointed at him, and Chase waved. “Here, baby.”

Their eyes locked and something washed over Chase like a sledgehammer of deja vu.


© 2005 Jody Wallace