Corrupted Desire - First Chapter Preview!

I understand that, due to my departure with EC, and the publishing delays that resulted, it's been quite a wait for those of you who have been patiently waiting to read Corrupted Desire (title & sub-genre changed).

In light of the delays I have decided to release the first chapter, for those who are interested in getting a sneak peek. 

Corrupted Desire is a Romantic Suspense with a most-definite darker side. It's not all lovey-lovey, but make no mistake, there's plenty of that going on between my hero & heroine. The only problem is that there's someone lurking in the background, who seeks to destroy my heroine...and anyone who happens to get in his way. No matter the cost. 

Here, in this first chapter, you will get a little taste of who he is - and his obsession.

Please remember that I am currently revising & editing, so there will likely be many changes in the final manuscript. This preview is intended only to give you an idea of what's to come - and any potential publishers a brief on Samantha and Richard's story, as well as my style of writing.

As of yet, I do not have a publishing home for Corrupted Desire; I will not be sending it to publishers until I have revisions completed and a finalized copy. Unfortunately, the previous edits had drastically changed the story, taking it in a direction I did not like. Having become so invested in these particular characters, I felt that I had no choice but to start over and write their story, they way it was meant to be.

So, here it is. I hope you enjoy the first chapter of Corrupted Desire! 

Please, feel free to comment below - I would love to hear what you think - and feel free to share it with your friends and family!

As always, a huge thank you goes out to those of you whom have supported me and my writing! Your support means the world to me and, as I progress through my career, I will always remember those who were there, with their encouragements, from the start!

*hugs*

Shelbie =)

Contains adult language & scenes - not appropriate for younger viewers.

The following contains copyrighted material and cannot be duplicated in any way without express written permission from the Author.

Corrupted Desire

Prologue

Throwing the press release down on his desk, he threw his head back and yelled. He was enraged. Beyond pissed. He had gone out of his way for months, fucking months, to see the bitch brought down. Working day and night, he had barely been able to sleep or think of anything else, his mind had been so consumed. And what comes of all of his hard work, sacrifice and suffering? Not a god damned thing, that's what.

But her? She had continually rolled over each and every obstacle he had placed in her path, not slowing down in the slightest, the dumb bitch not even suspecting he was behind it all. Nothing seemed to thwart her. Not only was her business still succeeding, but it was growing! And her reputation was still in tact, if not better, than when he started all this shit. The way things were headed, she should be paying him - since it seemed all he was accomplishing was to increase her fucking business.

The very idea caused his head to throb and bang, as if a construction crew had taken up place inside his skull, determined to blast a hole through. He knew, if he looked in the mirror right then, the veins on his forehead were swollen, protruded; he could feel the confirmation throbbing with each beat of his heart. God only knew, his face probably looked like a road map to hell; swollen red and blue veins acting as the highways. 

Why was he the one in suffering, when it should be her? She needed to suffer - badly.

Frustration reaching a boiling point, he slammed his hands down on his desk and watched as papers and files flew into the air, some landing haphazardly across his desk, while others floated to the floor. 

But, as his eyes ghosted over the remaining papers on his desk, his vision became consumed, zeroing in on the one slip of paper that started it all - the fucking Press Release. The damn thing had landed face up, on top of the stack, as if silently teasing him, mocking him in his ineptness.

"Motherfucking sonofabitch!" His voice thundered, bouncing off the walls of his office as he screamed his outrage. With a animistic roar and the swoop of his forearm, he swept the entire lot off of his desk and onto the floor, the lamp shattering against the far wall where it landed. What he had done thus far clearly wasn't working. So it was time for a change of tactic. To crank things up a notch. The question was how?

As the question breached his mind, his secretary, predictably, came running into his office; the sound of her high heels chipping away at his expensive marble floor and her annoying voice serving only to annoy him further.

"Oh my God, Theo? What happened?" she whispered, her hand raising to cover her mouth as she looked at the mess scattered across his floor.

Seriously, he thought, as he massaged his now aching head. She really had to ask what happened? As if it wasn't obvious enough? His first thought had been to simply answer yes, after all  he was God-like, but he doubted she would catch the inference. After all, he didn't exactly hire her for her intelligence and secretarial skills...

But, he didn't respond. There was no need to. Hell, he had spent years studying people and he knew exactly what she would do. He could literally predict it down to the second. He could feel it.

At times, especially when he found himself bored and in need of headache-free stimulation - women - it became almost a game to him. He would create a situation, contemplate the outcome and then sit back, watching as it played out, just to see if he was right. He liked nothing more than to prove himself right. He was smarter, always able to foresee the conclusion no matter the circumstances. And he was rarely wrong.

That's why this whole situation had him grinding his molars until he knew he'd be paying his dentist a fortune to repair the damage caused by the aggravating bitch. He should send her the damn bill. She owed him, after all.

He was calling this all wrong and it was pissing him off.

But, as he watched the scene in front of him play out, he smiled, knowing he hadn't completely lost his touch.

Fascinated by his perception, he quietly watched as his secretary bent over the scattered papers. As she teetered on her five-inch heels, the small scrap of material that posed as her skirt lifted, exposing the edge of her red panties and, as she braced an arm on the floor, her lithe body extended as she reached for a paper, fully exposing her luscious, round ass to his greedy eyes.

Trapped within the confines of his slacks, his cock instantly hardened, lengthened, readying for the pleasure it knew was to come; his cock had as good of memory as he did. Still, he sat silently in his chair, his ego growing to match his erection as he watched it all play out before him.

As she stood, her arms full of the papers, she briefly looked up at him...and smiled. Ah, yes. There it was. She thought she had him - hook, line and sinker - he could see it from the expression on her face. She was playing him. She thought she held sway and power over him. How wrong she was. But who was he to debase her of her ideas? Especially when there were such fun things ahead?

Her mood instantly morphed into one of seductress, as she smiled and sauntered over to his desk, her hips rolling and swaying, as if to hypnotize him.

Placing the papers on his desk, she leaned over, enough that her full breasts were close to escaping the low vee of her top as she proceeded to innocently sort the papers into piles. Now this, this is why he hired Monica. She may be dumb as a load of fucking bricks, but she knew how to play the game and she had a rockin' body to back it up. Of course, it didn't hurt that she could suck a three-finger marble through a straw. With his tutelage, naturally.

Quietly, as to not draw her attention just yet, he rolled his chair back from his desk and scooted his ass a little lower in his seat so that his weight was resting on his tailbone. He'd done this enough times that he knew - more importantly she knew - just what he liked.

Placing his arms on the armrests of his executive chair, to all the world he would appear relaxed and casual. But inside his body was a seething, festering cauldron waiting to explode; anger and arousal clashing together, fighting for dominance, feeding off one another to create the perfect storm.

"Monica," he growled, his voice now guttural and giving hint as to the emotions brewing within him. "Why don't you leave those papers for later? Don't you have something better to do?"

Sure, he asked. He had to try and be polite for propriety's sake, since she was technically his employee. The last thing he wanted was a scorned chick suing him for some shit or another. She might not be the brightest bulb, but she learned quickly - he only asked once - as evidenced by her quick reaction and the seductive smile that graced her attractive face.

In instances such as this, he let her think she held the upper hand with him. After all, in his experience, most women thought that they could control men using their bodies; a good blow job does go far to change one's mind. And, there was no question that she was damn good. He had taken the time to teach her exactly what he liked. 

But no matter, no woman would ever control him. Ever. He too had learned not only how to play the game, but how to master the game, early on. Lessons that he would now put to use.

As Monica approached, close enough that he could smell the peach body wash she used, his brain kicked back online as an idea percolated.

His mind in turmoil, he watched, detached, as if he were watching a movie reel, as Monica unclasped his trousers. He listened until he heard the sound of his zipper being pulled down, visualizing each lock as it disengaged. All the while a plan was growing and taking life within him, just as his cock had within his boxers.

Just as he laid his head back, he felt Monica's hand separate his trousers. He visualized what she would see - his swollen erection covered by dark blue silk boxers - as he felt her hand ghost over the surface, petting his hard cock like one would lovingly stroke a pet rock.

When he felt her fingertips teasing around, then under the edge of his boxers and softly caressing the head of his cock, he closed his eyes. But as he felt Monica's hand reach under his boxers and grasp his erection, stroking his full length, SHE appeared in his mind. Suddenly, she was the one stroking his cock, not Monica.

Eyes flashing open, his body went taut with anger as he ground his teeth to resist saying a word. That was not acceptable - not by a long fucking shot.

Deciding it was best to keep his eyes open for now, he looked down just in time to see Monica's head descend. And in that instant, he knew that he had just found the answer to his puzzle. Fucking. A.

As he felt Monica's mouth engulf his length, his mind went to work as fast as her mouth did, both working in consort, her actions giving fuel to his ideas. What the hell? He could easily enjoy two things at once. Especially the two things that brought him so much pleasure - sex and revenge.

The excitement at having finally found the answer he'd been seeking was almost better than the orgasm he felt fast approaching, pounding incessantly, rising in his shaft. Now that he had found the solution to his little problem, it was all about the planning. But first things first...

His pleasure continued to build as Monica wrapped her hand fully around his cock, stroking him from base to tip, as she sucked in consort, occasionally reaching down to grace her fingers over his hardening and aching balls.

Moaning quietly, lest he hand her too much power, his hips started to churn as she proceeded to do what she had learned would herald the end for him; rotating her mouth around the head of his erection, while her tongue rimmed the flared edge, as she continued to stroke and, alternately suck. Oh. Fuck. He HAD taught her well indeed.

Consumed by her practiced ministrations, he wasn't surprised to soon feel his balls tighten and cramp, almost to the point of pain, as a prelude to his orgasm.Should anyone other than Monica see him now, he would likely set about killing them. It was a rare few that were gifted with seeing this side of him. 

A huge smile crossed his face and his head punched back against the chair's headrest as his spine involuntarily straightened and his entire body went taut. A deep groan released from his mouth when he finally came, the release so hard it felt as if his brains blew out the top of his skull. And she took all he had to give. 

As Monica looked up at him, as she always did after blowing him, he smiled a huge smile - bigger than ever - knowing that she would think it was all for her. Let her. Because, even though she had no idea, she had just done him a huge favor; she blew him into the perfect solution and showed him the perfect weapon to use. Fuck yes!

He hated to admit, even if just to himself, but he'd been going about this all wrong. All. Wrong. He'd been trying to attack her from the outside. He'd been trying to damage her business and reputation, thinking it would make her fail and, ultimately, his end goal, suffer. How narrow-minded he had been. 

He felt like bashing himself across the head as he thought of all of the wasted time, effort and money. He knew her better than that - had for years - and all along, he had known what would hurt her. After all, what better way to take down a woman - than with another woman.

Let the games begin, he thought, as he tucked his spent cock back into his boxers, watching as Monica stood up and crudely wiped her hand over her smiling mouth. Gads. Some women have no class, he thought. But, then again, she just blew me on her knees sitting in my office chair, so what can I expect?

His mind already percolating ideas, he quickly forgot about Monica as he zipped his pants up and sat at his desk. As she walked out of his office, he heard her mention something about an appointment he had, but his mind was already elsewhere. 

Now that he had his answers it was time to act. Only this time, he would bring the bitch down...or die trying.

-End of chapter-

The fires of Hell can forge the strongest of blades

As I was working on revisions for my WIP, I was stunned by another media story - the untimely and unfortunate suicide of Robin Williams - and it got me to thinking.

As people, filled with varying emotions, we all have individual struggles to face, some stronger, seemingly more insurmountable than others. The key is to never give up. Ever. You won't ever have a chance to win the battle if you throw in the towel. You can't have a chance at life if you give in to death.

As I thought about this, I thought of how I had come to such a strong belief, how it was ingrained in my very being and how it had such significance in my own life.

Sadly, in amongst the beautiful events that occur in our lives, there are those whose lives have been affected by violence, self-inflicted, or otherwise. There are those who perpetrate the violence, having a resounding affect on their victims, then move on, sometimes to reign terror on another, sometimes stopped by law enforcement. Or those who aim the violence towards themselves, leaving loved ones behind filled with un-ending grief, guilt and unanswered questions.

Whatever the how or why and no matter the conclusion, in the end it's all the same - lives are irreparably altered.

I was one of these people. And this is my story.

Forewarning: The following story is based on true events, some of which may be disturbing. Nonetheless, I will relay my story with as much detail as possible, in the order in which it occurred, allowing you, the reader, an opportunity to live through the experience as I did. Thus, be forewarned, my story is not a quick one, but the message is in the details and thus, I relay them.

Other than family, close friends and police/prosecutors, who supported me during this event, this is the first time I have ever spoke of that day publicly. The reason I have decided to speak now, year's past, is for this simple fact: While the violent act has an affect on our life (and that of those we love), bringing with it lasting effects, it does not define who we are. Nor does it steal our dreams - unless we allow it.

To start my story, we must return to a different period in my life...

I was a highly successful runway/high fashion model, aged nineteen, who had recently been signed to represent many products that you see/use in your everyday life (Revlon, Black Velvet, etc.). My introduction into the modeling world was rapid - and highly successful. I had no idea what to prepare for. In reality, there was no way I could have prepared for the unexpected.

With my vast print exposure came a lot of attention, mainly from men. They would send pictures and, researching what I liked, gifts. They would write; marriage proposals and dates were the norm request. Many, I would recognize as they followed me to various shows. All of this was cute, and sometimes a little irritating, but you quickly learned it came with the job. However, what I had no way of knowing was that, behind the scenes, one of my "fans" had developed a sickening obsession with me. 

I soon found out. The revelation almost killed me.

The day that my life altered started simply enough. Strangely enough, I remember the weather. It had been a beautiful day in Seattle; the temperature was warm, if a bit humid and white fluffy clouds filled the skies, as if drawn by God's very hand. 

At the time, I lived in a spacious apartment that was all mine. I had spent my first paycheck decorating; fluffy furniture, an exquisite bed and of course, a prime stereo system. Had to have my music. I loved my home. It was the one place I went to for comfort, for solace, to hide from the racket of the world. 

I had just returned home after a prolonged absence (at shows) and was exhausted. Slipping the key into the lock, I pushed it, with the intention of sinking it into the lock. Instead of hitting the back of the lock's chamber, as I pushed, my door swung open.

Right then and there, I should have stopped and listened to my instinct, which was screaming at me to turn and run. But I didn't. As the door slowly opened and revealed my apartment, I was instantly ensnared. I couldn't have walked away had someone been dragging me. Why you may ask? It's a good question, isn't it? And it's one that I thought of many times over the minutes, hours, days, weeks, months and years that followed.

If only I had walked away.

You knew better. You fucking knew better. You fucking knew better, yet still you went in! What the fuck were you thinking? I can't count the number of times I yelled this, berating myself, using the words to propel my urge to fight harder as I struggled to heal massive injuries. You dumb-ass idiot! You. Fucking. Knew. Better. This is what you get. This is what you deserve for being so god-damned dumb.

By that one action, the course of my life had been altered. I couldn't have changed a damn thing; the damage to my belongings had already been done. Your "stuff" isn't worth jack-shit if you're dead. If only.

Still, all I could fixate on was the damage I could see, as I looked towards the front room. The glimpse of it stirred something in me that seemed to overwhelm all common sense. All I could think about was how hard I had worked to earn the money and the care that had gone into selecting each item. And that, for some unknown reason, someone had destroyed it all. Someone had entered my space and touched my things. Stupid. Meaningless in the grand scope of things.

As if in a daze, mouth hanging open, I stepped into the entryway, dropping my suitcases at the door. You know the saying "It's the little things that matter?" In this case, I couldn't use a better reference to describe that one action. Had I not dropped those suitcases where I did, I would likely be dead.

Walking forward, I first passed my bathroom, then bedroom door, which lined the entry hallway, but continued forward. My focus was set, drawing me forward. Rounding the small bend in the hallway, the front room finally came into full view. 

Shocked, my feet stumbled in the carpet as I moved forward, witnessing the full extend of the damage. Everything was ruined. Electronics had (obvious) liquid poured over them, my couch and chairs had been shredded and the windows splattered with...something. Stunned and in a daze, I walked forward, entering my kitchen. 

The damage was oppressive.  

Canned food had been removed from the cabinets, opened and strewn all over the kitchen. The refrigerator door was standing open and all the food had been emptied, joining the mess on the walls, floor, windows and counters. It looked as if a food bomb had exploded; every surface imaginable covered with varying items, empty cans and packaging littering the counters and floor.

The cabinets doors had been ripped off of their hinges, several still hanging, as if remnants of someones rage. The stove's burners had been turned on high; paper towels and dish towels piled upon the red-hot burners, some already igniting and beginning to burn. It was obvious that someone had recently attempted to start a fire. It was also obvious that that same someone had a hell of a lot of rage. 

Quickly turning off the burners, I looked around for something to remove the burning towels from the stove. Using a pair of tongues, I secured the towels, placing them in the sink and briefly turning on the water. Once satisfied a fire wasn't imminent, I turned, leaving the kitchen and headed towards the bathroom.

The bathroom was a repeat of the kitchen; products had been sprayed/splashed over the walls and floor and the shower curtain and bath mats had been shredded to minuscule pieces. Fortunately, my bathroom was small, so the amount of damage was minimal. The same could not be said for my bedroom. 

As I entered my bedroom, the first thing I noticed was that there were slashing red marks covering everything - walls, bedding, closet doors, mirrors, windows - making the room appear as if it had been spayed with blood. In matching red (which was later found to be lipstick), written across the surface of my mirrors, were the words WHORE, SLUT and CUNT. 

As with the remainder of my home, my precious bedding had been shredded and red marks marred the pillows, looking as if someone had laid a bloody head upon them. It was a grisly sight and one that chilled me to the bone. 

How long had this person been here? Why hadn't anyone heard them? Is it someone I know? Why would anyone do this? These were a few of the thoughts I remember having as I saw the utter destruction that surrounded me. I couldn't comprehend what I was seeing. I couldn't understand why someone would do this. But I remember one thing that stood out clear as day - RAGE. 

Even stronger in my room, the feeling of rage lingered, poisoning the very air and raising chills along the surface of my skin. Something was wrong...still. I knew it. My instincts were screaming at me RUN! Get the fuck out! It was as if I was nearing the epicenter of all of that rage, evil. 

Still, I ignored it...

Traversing the bloody-appearing scene in my bedroom, I headed towards my armoire, whose mirrors held the crude words in full, red, block writing for all to see. I was in a daze. I could see what had happened - that much was obvious - but I couldn't understand, no I couldn't process it. 

Sliding the first drawer open, my mind instantly revolted and my stomach sickened at the sight. It was bad enough that my home and belongings had been destroyed, but what I saw in the drawer... Strangely enough, I remember that shaking me. To my very core. 

The drawers in my armoire were where I held my varying collection of undergarments; panties, bras, hose, garters and silk teddys. And, by the looks of it, they had suffered the worst of someones wrath. Nothing was discernible - I couldn't have identified a thing - only memory could have provided for what once existed.

As I sifted my hands through the pieces, one certainty became immediately evident - every single piece had been first drawn on with red (lipstick), then shredded with a very sharp object. No matter the color or style, they all shared in this similarity.

By this point, I was likely in shock, but the feelings I remember as if they happened yesterday. I remember feeling physically nauseous for the first time. I remember the bitterness of the bile, as its filled my mouth, with saliva pooling soon after. I remember the feeling of my stomach churning, as I leaned to the side, heaving. I remember fighting not to be sick - with everything in me. This person had brought hell to my home. I was determined to not add to it.

Finally able to corral the feelings, my sight went to the closet doors, where I instantly noticed one was slightly ajar. God no! Not my clothes! Please, not my fucking clothes too! Funny thing to think, hu? No matter, I clearly remember that was my first thought.

In a rush to open the closet doors and see if there was damage, I stumbled over the mess of shredded material I had thrown to the floor. That one moment, it seemed, was enough to let my brain process and come back online, my rational pushing impulses to the side. I personally like to believe, like several other things that happened that day, it was my Guardian Angel interfering. Again, had that delay not happened, things would have turned out far more dire...

Now slowly approaching the closet doors, I reached to slide open the closed door, rather than the one left askew. It was in this moment where everything seemed to slow, almost to a standstill. I remember the room being abnormally quiet. So quiet, I could hear the sound of the metal tires as they ran across the rail. I could hear my clock ticking in the background. Everything went utterly still.

The door now partially open, allowing me to briefly scan the contents, it was instantly obvious that my clothes had fared no better, as my eyes filled with a sea red-colored slashes of material. It looked as though someone had let loose a Great White in the middle of my closet.

Fully opening the door, I lifted my hands to the hangers and slid piece by piece to the side, briefly examining the damage to each. Every article of clothing was shredded. Torn asunder. Red streaks covered every surface, appearing as though my clothes had been bloodied by Jason's shredded knives. Stunned, I started rifling through, moving the hangers aside as I exposed more of the horrid scene. Little did I know what else I would find, hiding in the clothes.

I remember feeling rage - mine or the other person's I still have no idea. I remember feeling so violated. And it was stupid in the grand scheme of things, but I remember thinking about how much this was all going to cost to replace and wondering if my insurance would cover it. I remember the stress brought on just thinking of how I would manage the time to do it all; knowing the only way was to ask my Mom for help. I remember hearing the sound of the hangers as they slid across the wooden bar. It was the last sound I remember hearing before hell visited earth.

Having finally succeeded in pulling the clothes apart, I noticed that they were still clinging together in the middle. My attention was directed upward, as I struggled to separate the clothes, so I didn't see what was coming...until it was too late.

The bunch had finally separated and, faster than I could track, I was brought to my knees in agonizing pain. Pain the likes of which I'd never felt in my life...to that point.

Standing, hidden amongst the clothes was (what do I call him? Person? Man? Those terms all seem to kind, since they establish humanity. Invader? Yes. Henceforth, he shall be referred to as Invader.) Invader.

In synchronicity, the clothes separated as he lifted his leg and, full-force, struck me between the legs with his heavy, black biker boots. I went down like a rock, pain stealing the breath from my lungs. It felt as if my pelvis had been shattered by the sheer force of his kick, having lifted my feet off of the ground before I crashed to it, in a heap.

Through the haze of pain, I looked up and saw something that, still to this very day, sends chills skating across the surface of my skin. Invader was standing amidst the clothes, separating them further as he looked down at me, a greedy smile on his face and his eyes filled with rage...with murder. I knew I had but seconds to get out of there. I also knew that if I didn't, my parents would be getting a call that all parents dreaded.

Survival instinct kicking in, I struggled to rise to my feet, but was unable to. I tried to scream, but couldn't, as the pain robbed me of every sound but for a faint whimper. Instead, not looking back, I reached my arms out and, pulling myself along the carpet, used my feet to propel my body forward. With each movement of my feet, the pain was insufferable. There were several points where black dots overcame my vision as I struggled to remain conscious. I knew, I knew, if I didn't, I would be dead.

I had one goal in mind - I had to get to the front door.

Having freed himself of my closet, he stood behind me, watching my struggle. I only looked back once and never again, for when I saw him, I saw death. He was playing with me, like a cat paws a mouse and I knew it.

Thankfully, the door to freedom wasn't far outside my bedroom door. I just had to get there, had to reach it and I knew I could get help. Roger was right across the hallway, Stephanie down a door. But it took forever to reach it, as I had to stop with each forward movement, letting the pain and black dots recede before I tried again. All the while, he stood behind me...waiting...

As I finally neared the door, I thanked God that I had dropped those damn suitcases right there, as they had served to prop the door open. If I had been faced with having to open the door... Yeah.

Already in unimaginable pain, as I reached the door and realized safety was near, I heard a loud explosion and felt a searing burn race across my flank. It was a burn like nothing I had ever experience - until or since then - deep and all-encompassing. Still, seeing the open door before me, I tried to struggle forward. Unfortunately, whatever he had done (and I didn't yet know) had now rendered me completely immobile.

Laying at the doorway, feeling as if my life was going to end on the cusp of freedom, my body was pushed into the plush carpet with force - as he walked over my body. First my legs, then my rear, back and finally my head. He didn't step around me - he stepped on me - as he walked out the door and disappeared from my sight.

Lying there, I had no idea what the explosion had been, only knowing it had done something to me, I was consumed in agony as everything in me gave out. I had nothing left to fight. I was consumed in pain so wretched, so awful, that to this day I still occasionally dream of it. Any pain I have experienced since then, including delivering two children, paled in comparison.

I would later learn that the explosion I had heard had been a gun shot and, while it caused unbelievable grief in my life (to this day), ironically, it also saved my life. For it was his desperation to end my life that caused him to shoot me, bringing the attention of my neighbors and chasing him away. That is why he left. He didn't leave because he was done with me; he left because the door across the hall was opening.

At the time, all I knew was the face of an angel before me, as my neighbor leaned down and stroked my hair, begging me to hold on, that help was coming. I remember hearing the stress in his voice and, strangely, wondering what had him so upset. I remember the expression on his face and I remember wondering what had him so upset that he looked like that. It's strange what your mind conjures, to help you, in a life and death situation.

But one thing I will always remember is the comfort he offered me. Against his obvious fear for me and, (he later told me) against concerns that Invader would return, he stayed there with me, soothing me, until help arrived. It felt like forever. It was only minutes. At times I felt no pain. At times it was so uncontrollable I wretched. I remember thinking of my Mom and wanting her so badly, like a little girl needs her mommy to tend to a scratch. All the while, he was there. I will remember his kindness until the day I leave this plain.

Taken months after hospital release

In the end, I went through months of surgeries, physical therapy, nightmares and panic attacks...and always the pain. Pain and I got to be on really good terms. The damage Invader had done was extensive. The initial kick had instantly shattered my pelvis. The explosion I had heard, followed by the searing burn had been from a gunshot. Invader had shot me with a 357 Eagle Talon bullet, shattering my hip and causing extensive vascular and nerve damage, etc. 

I was told I would be lucky to walk again. I walked. I was told I would likely never have children. I have two beautiful children. To this very day I have permanent nerve damage and, at times, have pain flare out-of-control, but I'm alive. I am alive. I won you fucking bastard.

You may ask, who was Invader and what happened to him? Turns out he was a man (I didn't know) who had seen me, become obsessed with me and he had been stalking me for months, taking note of my schedule, planning his attack. He just hadn't planned on my fighting. Fucker.

What's worse? This was during, what I call, pre-Nicole Brown-Simpson days, when DV calls didn't warrant the attention they do now. After his attempted murder, he fled to England, where he had family who hid him. Several years after this, I suffered YEARS of the son-of-a-bitch showing up, stalking me from location to location. I never knew how he found me, but he always did - and he was always long gone by the time police arrived.

I met my future husband during this rough period of my life - he was God-sent as far as I am concerned. This September, we will celebrate twenty years of our marriage. He was there for me during the roughest time-period in my entire life. He chased Invader off, more times than I can count. He would stay with me, holding me, comforting me, when fear would overwhelm even my strong constitution.

Out of the fires of hell, an angel was sent to me.

Out of the fires of hell, two angels grew wings.

Out of the fires of hell, my family was born.

And for what I have today, I would live it all again.

In ending, if my story has reached one person who is struggling, encouraging them to fight, then it was worth re-living it all again. Never give up. Never give in. Don't let anyone tell you CAN'T - and if they do - say I WILL.

Hugs,

Shelbie =)

www.shelbieknight.com

Announcement

Happy Thursday everyone!

I will make this quick and to the point. 

I have ended my association with The Decadent Divas and will no longer be posting on their behalf.

For those of you who are already scheduled in future posts, rest assured that there will be no disruption or change - other than the venue. Rather than posting for The Decadent Divas, I will resume posting on my blog. Having much more freedom on my own blog, I now have the availability to schedule future posts in accordance with your release days! Yeah! =)

For those of you who followed The Decadent Divas in show of your support of me, I thank you. I appreciated your support more than you can possibly know and still do, as I move forward.

Having not been afforded the opportunity to say goodbye to the followers, I hope that my message here will reach you. As always, I was grateful for you comments, support and recommendations. I would welcome you to follow me here, on my personal blog. If you have a particular Author that you would love to see featured, please message me. As always, I welcome any and all comments and recommendations. 

I hope that you enjoyed my features and interviews - I always have a blast conducting interviews with my fellow authors and showcasing their work - and I look forward to continuing, here on The Knight Stalker Blog.

Sincerely,

Shelbie Knight =)
www.shelbieknight.com

Darynda Jones brings a dash of humor to the GRAVE

In sticking with my theme for the month, series', today I bring you one of my favorites! 

Welcome to the world of Charley Davidson - A Paranormal Romantic Suspense Series created by Author Darynda Jones!

About Darynda:

For reasons known only to the Big Guy upstairs, NYTimes and USA Today Best Selling author Darynda Jones won both a Golden Heart and a RITA for her manuscript FIRST GRAVE ON THE RIGHT. But even before that, she couldn’t remember a time she wasn’t putting pen to paper. When she was five, she would pick up a pencil and notepad, scribble utter chaos onto the page and ask her mom to read her masterpiece aloud. Thankfully, her mother would play along.  Later she wrote plays for the neighborhood kids, made up stories for her brother as he played cars, and fell in love with Captain Kirk. Those raging, seven-year-old hormones only fueled her imagination, prompting her to create fantastical stories for Barbie and Ken to enact. Ken was such a bad boy back then. 

After years of being repeatedly sent to the principal’s office for daydreaming in class, she managed to make it to high school where she almost finished her first manuscript. Sitting with her BFF in a corner booth at the local Tastee Freeze for hours at a time, she wrote a post-apocalyptic story about a group of teens who bore a remarkable resemblance to the members of Van Halen and were trying to escape the tunnels of a huge government fallout facility decades after World War III had destroyed the surface of the earth. It was a science fiction version of The Warriors and destined to be a classic.

Life was good. Writing was good. Then she graduated and the real world came crashing through. She forced the dream aside in favor of sustenance and shelter, got married to a local rock star, and had at least two kids that she can think of, the oldest of whom was born Deaf, probably to spite her. When he was five, she packed up her boys and moved to Albuquerque to put him in a Deaf and Hard-of-Hearing program. The rock star stayed behind with the business, and they took turns going back and forth on the weekends to see each other for seven really long years.

While in Albuquerque, Darynda decided to see the cup half full and go back to college while she still had enough brain cells to make it worth her while. After graduating Summa cum Laude from the University of New Mexico with a degree in Sign Language Interpreting, she moved back to her hometown and got a real job. Several in fact, mostly teaching at a local college and interpreting pretty much everywhere. Based on personal experience, she does not recommend having more than three jobs at any given time.

But bit by bit, the desire to write needled its way back to the surface. Unable to squelch it any longer, she started writing seriously again in 2002 with one goal in mind: A publishing contract. Unfortunately, she sucked. Thank goodness practice makes almost-perfect and three complete manuscripts later, she won that Golden Heart, landed an amazing agent and sold to St. Martin’s Press in a three-book deal.

She currently has two series with St. Martin’s Press, the Charley Davidson series and the Darklight Trilogy. She hopes you enjoy reading them as much as she enjoys writing them. 

Darynda lives in the Land of Enchantment, also known as New Mexico, with her husband of almost 30 years and two beautiful sons, the Mighty, Mighty Jones Boys.

Charley Davidson Series:



First Grave on the Right

A smashing, award-winning debut novel that introduces Charley Davidson: part-time private investigator and full-time grim reaper.

Charley sees dead people. That’s right, she sees dead people. And it’s her job to convince them to “go into the light.” But when these very dead people have died under less than ideal circumstances (i.e. murder), sometimes they want Charley to bring the bad guys to justice. Complicating matters are the intensely hot dreams she’s been having about an entity who has been following her all her life…and it turns out he might not be dead after all. In fact, he might be something else entirely.

***WARNING: MAJOR SPOILER ALERT!!!***

*If you have not read book one, stop now!*

Second Grave on the Left

When Charley is rudely awakened in the middle of the night by her best friend who tells her to get dressed quickly and tosses clothes out the closet at her, she can’t help but wonder what Cookie’s up to. Leather scrunch boots with a floral miniskirt? Together? Seriously?

After dragging Charley out the door and trying unsuccessfully to stuff her into a trunk—mostly ‘cause Charley pitches a fit—Cookie finally explains that a friend of hers named Mimi disappeared five days earlier and that she just got a text from her setting up a meet at a coffee shop downtown. They show up at the coffee shop, but no Mimi. After a brief investigation, Charley finds a message on the bathroom wall. Mimi left a clue, a woman’s name. They head to the parking lot only to be accosted by a frantic husband with a gun. After some soothing words and a few deep breathing exercises, the husband, aka Warren Jacobs, hires Charley to find his wife. He explains that his wife had been acting strange since she found out an old friend of hers from high school had been found murdered a couple weeks prior. The same woman Mimi had named in her message.

Meanwhile, Reyes Alexander Farrow (otherwise known as the Son of Satan. Yes. Literally) has left his corporeal body and is haunting Charley. He’s left his body because he’s being tortured by demons who want to lure Charley closer. But Reyes can’t let that happen. Because if the demons get to Charley, they’ll have a portal to heaven. And if they have a portal to heaven…well, let’s just say it wouldn’t be pretty. Can Charley handle hot nights with Reyes and even hotter days tracking down a missing woman? Will Cookie ever get a true fashion sense? And is there enough coffee and chocolate in the world to fuel them as they do?

Third Grave Dead Ahead

Charley Davidson—grim reaper extraordinaire, private investigator . . . meh—is practicing her profession under the influence, caffeine and copious amounts of it, due to an extreme desire to induce insomnia. Every time she closes her eyes, Reyes Farrow, the part-human, part-supermodel son of Satan, is there. Only thing is, he’s a tad peeved. She did bind for all eternity, so it’s hard blame him. But 13 days without a wink is bound to bring out the crazy in a girl. So, when a man hires her to find his wife, Charley accepts the job with one goal in mind: Put the man behind bars, and not the wet kind. She can sense the guilt waft off him and vows to find the woman’s body and prove he’s a murderer.

In the meantime, Reyes is back in prison and none too happy about it . . . so Charley thinks, until she is carjacked by the dark-haired rake, who swears the very man he went to prison for killing is not only alive, but close by. And he wants Charley to find him.

While a visit to her old friend Rocket sheds no light on Reyes’s situation, Charley finds out the man’s wife is still alive and time is running out. Finding her before she dies would be a miracle, but she has to try. Together with the help of a fashion-impaired receptionist named Cookie, Charley sets out to bring the bad guys to justice. She just hopes Reyes is not one of them. And that she’s not hallucinating from her self-induced bout with insomnia.

Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet

Sometimes being the grim reaper really is that. Grim. And since Charley’s last case went so awry, she has taken a couple months off to wallow in the wonders of self-pity. But when a woman shows up on her doorstep convinced someone is trying to kill her, Charley has to force herself to rise above. Or at least get dressed. She quickly realizes something is amiss when everyone the woman knows swears she’s insane. The more they refute the woman’s story, the more Charley believes it. In the meantime, the sexy, sultry son of Satan, Reyes Farrow, has been cleared of all charges. He is out of prison and out of Charley’s life, as per her wishes and several perfectly timed death threats. But his absence has put a serious crimp in her sex life. While there are other things to consider, like the fact that the city of Albuquerque has been taken hostage by an arsonist, Charley is having a difficult time staying away. Especially when it looks like Reyes may be involved. Just when life was returning to normal, Charley is thrust back into the world of crime, punishment, and the devil in blue jeans.

Fifth Grave Past the Right

Charley Davidson may not look like your everyday, run-of-the-mill grim reaper, but she has vowed to reap grimness wherever she goes despite this unfortunate fact. Sadly, she gets sidetracked when the sexy, sultry son of Satan, Reyes Farrow, moves in next door. Since he is her main suspect in an arson case, she has vowed to stay away from him until she can find out the truth. But when dead women start appearing in her apartment, one after another, each lost, confused, and terrified beyond reason, Charley has no choice but to ask for his help, especially when it becomes apparent that her own sister Gemma is the serial killer’s next target. With Reyes’s ability to observe incorporeally, surely he can find out who’s responsible. Even if he can’t, arsonist or not, he is the one man alive who could protect Gemma no matter who or what came at her. But he wants something in return. Charley. All of her, body and soul. And to keep her sister safe, it is a price she is willing to pay.

Sixth Grave On the Edge

Few things in life can come between a grim reaper and her coffee, but the sexy, sultry son of Satan is one of them. Now that Reyes Farrow has asked for her hand, Charley Davidson feels it’s time to learn more about his past, but Reyes is reluctant to open up. When the official FBI file of his childhood abduction lands in her lap, Charley decides to go behind her mysterious beau’s back and conduct her own investigation. Because what could go wrong?

Unfortunately, another case has fallen into her lap—one with dangerous implications. Some very insistent men want Charley to hunt down a witness who is scheduled to testify against their boss, a major player in the local crime syndicate. If Charley doesn’t come up with an address in 48 hours, the people closest to her will start to disappear.

Add to that a desperate man in search of the soul he lost in a card game, a dogged mother determined to find the ghost of her son, and a beautiful, young Deaf boy haunted by his new ability to see the departed as clearly as he sees the living, and Charley has her hands full. The fact that Reyes has caught on to her latest venture only adds fuel to the inferno that he is. Good thing for Charley she’s used to multi-tasking and always up for a challenge…especially when that challenge comes in the form of Reyes Farrow.

Releases 10/21/14

Seventh Grave and No Body

Twelve. Twelve of the deadliest beasts ever forged in the fires of hell have escaped onto our plane, and they want nothing more than to rip out the jugular of Charley Davidson and serve her lifeless, mangled body to Satan for dinner. So there’s that. But Charley has more on her plate than a mob of testy hellhounds. For one thing, her father has disappeared, and the more she retraces his last steps, the more she learns he was conducting an investigation of his own, one that has Charley questioning everything she’s ever known about him. Add to that an ex-BFF who is haunting her night and day, a rash of suicides that has authorities baffled, and a drop-dead sexy fiancé who has attracted the attentions of a local celebrity, and Charley is not having the best week of her life.

A tad north of hell, a hop, skip, and a jump past the realm of eternity, is a little place called Earth, and Charley Davidson, grim reaper extraordinaire, is determined to do everything in her power to protect it.

We’re doomed.

Contact Darynda:

Darynda's Website

Facebook

Twitter

Goodreads

Amazon

Pintrest

Contact Darynda

I hope that you have enjoyed reading about Darynda's work; this is a series that I am truly enjoying, laughing one minute, on the edge of my seat the next. 

Thank you for visiting The Knight Stalker Blog today!

Happy Reading!

Shelbie Knight

www.shelbieknight.com

@ShelbieKnight

Updates

Howdy everyone!

I know, it's been a while since I've hit the pages of my own blog, and while I promised to do better, so far I've failed. =( 

So, I have come to a decision, one that should make activity steam on my blog more regular, as well as keeping everyone updated.

As some, if not all, of you may know, I am part of a group of Authors called The Decadent Divas. Our goal in coming together was not only to support one another, and our work, but to introduce readers to other Authors. Writing can, and is, a lonesome profession at times; the days go by without so much as a hint of communication, other than written. Heck, there are times when, if I didn't see my daughter scramble down the hall, I would think I've dropped into an alternate reality!

So, back to The Decadent Divas...

Each of us has several days a month that are our times to blog. While I've always posted my blog interviews, I've never thought to bring them here, to my blog as well. 

For those of you who read both blogs, the postings will be duplicate for you. But for those who don't...

My thinking is that by bringing my DD postings here, not only will all of my blog followers have the opportunity to read them, but it will also keep me in touch with my blog, reminding me that I too have a blog and that I must write on it! =) Brilliant, right? He-he! =)

Now for the updates with my work...

Due to changes with (the Editor) I was working with, I have made the decision to re-edit Loving the CEO. There were simply too many changes for my liking and the story was, in my opinion, corrupted. LtC was originally written as a Contemporary Romance - during editing, this changed, along with many aspects of the story. I have made the painful decision to start from the first page, editing line-by-line, cutting out major areas (that didn't add to the progress of the story) and adding ones that did. Plus, I am currently dealing with a 130k MS and I want to get it below 100k. Cut, cut, cut!

In between editing Loving the CEO I am still plotting, planning and writing Rising Dragon. I can't wait for the moment when I am able to focus, one hundred percent, on this MS! I have so much going on in this story, I really think it will be one that readers will love - that is, I hope! =)

Also, in relation to work, after much trouble with my (new) PC, I decided to dump it and purchased a new, huge, Apple computer! It's my first time working on a Apple computer, so the change has been quite drastic, but I'm learning.

While I was at it, I decided to also purchase a Apple laptop. It was distracting enough learning a new system, but bouncing back and forth from PC to Apple? Yeah. Not.

On the home front...

The kids are home from school, or I should say one is. Our son graduated from high school and dove straight into the workforce. Money is an amazing instigator! We purchased his car, pay for his insurance, etc., but he decided he needed money to "trick it out." Little does he know yet, but if he can spend money "tricking" his car out, I've got an insurance bill here...

Our daughter finished her seventh grade with a bang! She's a smart one. Sadly, she can't seem to get over the desire to propagate my house with animals and, as I sit here writing this, her hamster cage just filled with God-only-knows how many babies! ARGH! I feel like ripping my hair out! But, hey, the good thing is that she is making a little business for herself, selling her hamsters. Good grief! What is it with our children and money?

Mr. Shelbie is working hard, as always, God Bless his heart. In September, we will celebrate twenty years of marriage. Holy *edited*! I can't decide if I should thank him for all of the wonderful years, or if I should fall to the ground and kiss his feet. LOL! Thinking that I've spent, oh twenty years married, then another six dating...wow. That equates to over half of my lifetime spent with this one man. Dang. He must be something special. =)

That's it for now! I hope everyone is having a beautiful summer and keep an eye out - blogs coming! 

My first DD blog/crossover will be introducing a new release by fellow Diva, Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York. Watch my blog on July 23rd for the details on her new release!

Have a super week!

*hugs*

Shelbie =)

Weekly Update

Hello everyone!  I decided to stop by my blog today to give a little update on what's coming up and what's going down!  =)

First, I have been very busy these last couple of weeks, as I am dedicating as much of my free time to writing as possible.  Added to this, I have both of my kids home on Summer break, and my free time has been slim.  Regardless, I have managed to put in some good work on my first to-be-published piece.

Exciting news on the publishing front is that I am in talks with a publisher who is interested in representing my work, as well as offers from a few others!  I am thrilled and honored to have the opportunities presented to me, and hope to have announcements as to who I will be working with in the near future.  Until I sign a contract, I will not release any names - for obvious reasons.

In the next couple of days, I am planning a really neat drawing/giveaway on my blog.  I am in the planning stages of it now, and hope to have something going after the 4th of July.  I figured, with the Holiday coming up, it didn't make a lot of sense to start it right before.  So, please keep a eye out on my blog for announcements on this front as well. =)

I hope everyone is well, and you are successful at whatever it is you work towards.  In that light, I would like to send my congratulations to several Authors who have new releases this week:

1 - Kresley Cole - "MacRieve" (The Immortal After Dark Series)

2 - Christine Warren - "Hungry Like A Wolf" (A Novel of The Others)

3- Lora Leigh, Alyssa Day, Melejean Brook & Lucy Monroe - "Enthralled" (anthology)

4 - Kathy Love & Erin McCarthy - "Fangs for Nothing"

5 - Thea Harrison - "The Wicked" (novella) 

6 - Yasmine Galenorn - "Night Vision" (A Novel of the Indigo Court)

These are just a few of the wonderful Authors whose work I read, so if you are looking for a wonderful read, please check them out!!

Have a wonderful week everyone...and until next time....Big Hugs!

Shelbie =)