It’s been nearly two years since I published Painting Rain, and I really don’t know how I let that much time pass without posting some bonus content from it. For shame!

I’ll try to make it up to you.

This scene is the first part of an entire chapter that was deleted from Painting Rain. I was several thousand words into this particular scene before I realized that I had no idea where I was going with this story line and that it really didn’t serve a purpose. So it ended up on the cutting room floor.

This scene happens during her trip from Dalthia to Faria. I hope you enjoy it!

I wallowed there until the carriage gave a mighty jolt and I was thrown from my seat. I fell to my knees, catching myself on the bench opposite where Sarah was trying not to slide from her own place. Then one side of the carriage dipped low, throwing me against the door, where my panicked gaze darted out the window and fell to the ground, which was much closer than it should have been. The leather strap that supported this side of the carriage must have snapped.

 

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New Deleted Scene

I have been a major slacker lately about updating my website. Sorry about that. I have a new deleted scene to share with y’all, but first I’ll give you an update on my current project.

The book that I am working on right now, which will likely be titled If I Could Stay, has been sent off to a few beta readers, and I’m waiting for feedback and fine-tuning. I’m optimistic  that I’ll be able to put it up for pre-order in about a month or so.

What’s this book about? Good question, and one that I’m excited to answer! This will be my first contemporary novel. Not only that, but it’s also a romantic suspense (emphasis on romantic, of course). Leila is my main character, but that’s not the name she goes by. She’s had many names because she’s in hiding. She trusts no-one, but when she finds herself stranded on a deserted highway in the middle of winter, she has to trust the guy that comes along to help her.

That’s all I’ll say for now, or at least until I get a blurb written (my least favorite part of writing, BTW). But I love these characters and it was a lot of fun to be able to infuse my writing with more modern humor.

Just a heads up: There’s a bit of swearing in this book. Hopefully that won’t discourage you from reading it. It’s mild and infrequent, but I felt it was necessary at certain moments to keep it realistic.

Now, for some bonus content! Those of you who’ve signed up for my newsletter will have received the email and the link to this new deleted scene from Keeping Kinley.

Those who haven’t signed up: you should! All it does is guarantee that you get my latest updates, and it gives you access to deleted scenes, scenes from my heroes’ points of view, etc… So sign up here if you want more Ella, Lylin, Marilee, Raina or Kinley!

 

Archery Competition – Rhys’ POV

Third scene from Rhys’s POV. When I asked on my FB page which scene readers would most like to see rewritten from Rhys, this scene was the winner. I was surprised, because I hadn’t considered this one, but once I got into it, I was so glad that readers had suggested it! It was so fun to get into Rhys’s head for this one. Enjoy.

Caution: If you have not read Missing Lily, please don’t read these scenes! They will spoil the plot for you. Go read Missing Lily first, then come back and enjoy these extras.Archery

Continue reading

Rhys Meets Princess Lylin

Scene #2 from Rhys’s POV. This is actually the first one that I chose to write, because it seemed like the perfect moment to delve into his head and get a little insight. I also knew it would be relatively easy for me since I already knew what he was thinking. And now you get to know. 🙂

Caution: If you have not read Missing Lily, please don’t read these scenes! They will spoil the plot for you. Go read Missing Lily first, then come back and enjoy these extras.

Rhys Meets Lylin Continue reading

Meet Tobias through the eyes of Rhys Fallon

It all started with a simple question that a reader asked in the comments. She mentioned the scene I had written from Gavin’s POV and asked if I had plans to do the same for Rhys.

Boy, did that get the wheels in my head turning. Which scene could I do? There were so many great ones that I thought would be excellent from his perspective. How could I choose??

Then I realized I didn’t have to choose. There certainly wasn’t a limit on the number of scenes I could amuse myself by rewriting. And believe me, it WAS amusing. I was surprised at how much fun I had and how completely alive Rhys was in my head. You guys know I don’t write from men’s points of view. There is a reason for that, several in fact. But somehow I didn’t mind getting into Rhys’s head, maybe because I already knew what he was thinking. Regardless, the result is that I rewrote three scenes. Enjoy.

Caution: If you have not read Missing Lily, please don’t read these scenes! They will spoil the plot for you. Go read Missing Lily first, then come back and enjoy these extras.

 

Meet Tobias 2 Continue reading

Gavin’s POV

I’ve had several people ask me if I’ve ever considered writing my story from more than one point of view (POV). The short answer is ‘no’. I understand the appeal of getting into the heads of both the hero and heroine, but I will probably always write from just one POV. I think it’s easier to understand a characters frustrations and insecurities if you only see what they see. But I’ll admit to having a lot of fun writing just a scene or two from the hero’s perspective. So without further ado…

Gavin POV

From the Outside Looking In

I walked to the servants’ entrance of the kitchen and stepped inside. I had been here only a few times before, preferring to walk home for a good meal rather than eat in the clamoring kitchens of the palace.

I caught the eye of one of the cooks and raised the flowers I was holding. “I’m supposed to give these to the house mistress.”

The cook pointed with the knife she was holding, indicating a door across the room. “Through there.”

I crossed the room, dodging servants carrying steaming pots and silver trays laden with dishes before pushing the door open with my shoulder.

The house mistress looked up from where she seemed to be scolding a lad. “Mr. Gavin. Very good. Bring them here.”

I handed over the bundle when she reached for them. She set them in a vase, already filled with water, and fussed with their position.

“Will that be all, Missus?”

She made another adjustment before answering. “Now you can just take them up,” she said, thrusting the vase into my hands.

“You wish me to go above stairs?”

“Of course. Joseph always does, you know. Likes to deliver them himself.”

But I wasn’t Joseph. “I’ve never been above stairs, Madame.”

“Oh. Well, follow me.” She brushed past and I had to rush after her. She led me up the steps and through the palace as I cast my eyes about, trying to keep track of where I was going, while at the same time trying to keep my eyes down out of respect.

She stopped at the bottom of another staircase. “Her room is just up there, third door on the right.” She turned around and I realized she meant to leave me to my own devices.

“Should I really be interrupting—”

“The princesses are busy with their studies, young man. You needn’t worry about that. Now, off you go. I trust you can find a suitable place for them, and be quick about it.”

“Yes, Madame,” I mumbled as she headed back to the kitchen. I forced my feet to move up the stairs, baffled that she had left me alone to find the bedchamber of one of the princesses.

I found the door and breathed a breath of courage as I pushed it open, hoping she had been right in assuming all the royal misses were busy with their studies. No one was inside and breathed a sigh of relief. Looking around, I noted the mantle over the fireplace, as well as a writing table, both good spots for the vase I carried. Though perhaps a less obvious spot would be better, maybe the little table beside the bed or the low one in front of the fireplace. How many tables did one princess need? I was turning slowly, taking in the entire room when the door burst open. Ella’s hair flew out around her as she spun to close the door, then leaned against it, as if she were relieved to have arrived.

I was not relieved. She wasn’t supposed to be here. The house mistress had said she wouldn’t be here. This was bad, very bad. I couldn’t be here with her. It was inappropriate and wrong, and her hair was down. Why was her hair down?

She pushed away from the door and walked toward her dressing table without seeing me. The clink of hair pins scattering across the table’s surface reached my ears as she thrust both hands into her hair and shook it. I swallowed, unable to speak as the image of her wheat-colored hair held me transfixed. After she was finished brandishing her hair at me, she tossed it over her shoulder and then looked up into the mirror before her. That’s when she saw me.

She gave a startled yelp and spun around, one hand pressed to her heart while the other clung to the table. I was stuck in the same position I had been in when she entered the room, my body stiff as I tried to contain the feeling of panic caused by the realization that this creature whom I had spent day after day with out in the wilds of the garden had never looked more like a nymph than she did now, her eyes bright, her hair tumbling around her. I pulled my focus back to her eyes and realized she was waiting for me to speak, to offer some sort of reasonable explanation for my standing in her room.

“I—” was all I managed before my nerves choked me and I had to start over, the words spilling out, tumbling over one another in my rush to explain. “I was told that one of the princesses wanted an arrangement of flowers, so I took the liberty of arranging one and when I brought it to the house mistress, she showed me to this room and told me that all the highnesses were doing their studies and I should just place them where I thought best, so I….”

Her hair fell into her eyes and my thoughts scattered. If she would just put it up where it belonged, I was sure I would be able to maintain my train of thought. She pushed the curls out of her eyes, a mystified “Oh,” being her only response.

I needed to give a better explanation. “I would have been gone before now, but I couldn’t decide where they looked best and I had no idea of anyone returning any time soon.” Otherwise I never would have entered in the first place. “I certainly didn’t know it had been you who requested them, though I suppose I should have guessed.” Why hadn’t I guessed? The girl was obsessed with every plant she encountered.

She didn’t respond, just looked at me, her eyes still wide, tempting me to kiss her surprised mouth.

It was time to leave. I was a servant, she was royalty, and I had no right thinking about kissing her just because she had befriended me. What had she been thinking? “I should go,” I tried to say it in an offhand way, and headed toward the door. I needed to get out, back into the real world, the world where I belonged.

“Gavin.”

Did she have to say my name like that? I stopped, turning to face her. I tried to look at her eyes, but her blasted hair kept distracting me. I looked away.

“The vase,” she said and I looked down to realize I still held her flowers. “On the table would be fine.”

I hurried to the table, my toe catching on the rug as I went. I set the vase down, not paying attention to where on the table would have been best, and fled toward the door once more, avoiding looking at her and barely remembering to give a bungled bow as I yanked the door open and made my escape. A delicate “Thank you” followed me from the room.

I walked, practically ran, down the corridor and was grateful to find my way back to the kitchens and out into the fresh air. I scrubbed my hand over my face, inhaling. The wind and the smell of dirt were right and normal. Not like the barely perfumed scent of the room I had just escaped, the room where Ella slept, no doubt with her curls splayed out on her pillow.

So much for friendship. It felt like I was falling off a cliff.

I was terrified.