Brit Blaise

Master Storyteller

Brit Blaise is a master storyteller. The characters in Time Thieves jump off the pages and the storyline is both action packed and exciting. The love scenes are so hot you'll be challenged to catch your breath. I hope that this is the beginning of a wonderful new series because I would love to hear Peck's tale. Or Lawzard's. - Two Lips

Jenny is back to bug me…

Posted on 16 October 2007
Tags: Just Chat

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When Jenny stalked into the room I almost swallowed my tongue. If it hadn’t gotten caught in my broken partial wire, I would have.

“What are you doing here?”

Jenny sniggered at my question and set the tone…surly.

I bided my time, drinking her in, the ball cap hiding her hair, the gun rig at her shoulders, faded denim tight across her thighs, but belled out at the ankles, both of them. More than likely she was carrying concealed too. The metallic 1911 in her shoulder hostler made me think of Daken, her husband.

Where was he? Why had he let Jenny out of his sight? Hadn’t I taught him anything? Jenny was hell on wheels and she needed a keeper.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Jenny said. “Daken isn’t here because it pisses me off to see you drool over him.”

“Sorry, Jen.” I turned back to my computer to hit save. “Right now I’m more interested in Kaze.”

She huffed. “Yeah, right. Keep telling yourself that. Is that why you gave me a scene in Kaze’s story?”

I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t understand why I’d been compelled to write her into my latest story and give her a hot sex scene with her husband and toys, lots of them. As an author. I’m not supposed to do that. It’s not moving the story forward…its regression of the worst possible kind.

“What do you want? I’m behind on this story and now you have me rattled.”

She gave a consoling nod, like I’d gotten through to her. “What are you working on?”

“It’s a short story, The Blood Club. Vampires. Maybe fallen angels. Lately fallen angels have been trying to invade my stories.”

Jenny tapped her foot impatiently on slick wooden floor of my familyroom. She’d never visited me here, but she didn’t seem curious about her surroundings. The last time I’d seen her was during my short stay in the Victorian in town. This is a really cool room and if she didn’t or couldn’t take a sec to notice, a disturbing thought occurred to me. All wasn’t well with the warriors. I opened my mouth to ask when she faded away.

Gone.

What do I do now?