I’ve been working on Noah’s
book, Skye Blue. It’s the next in my Hell Yeah! series and has been much
anticipated with my readers for a couple of reasons. First – Noah has been pain
in the rear. He is the McCoy who can’t see shades of grey. Everything is black
and white to Noah. He’s all business. The numbers always have to add up and he
doesn’t cut any of his brothers or their loves much slack. Protect the family,
protect the McCoy name, protect the McCoy fortune – that was his mantra. He
almost made Jacob lose Jessie and he had a hard time accepting what made Isaac
tick. Harper, his girlfriend, desired things that Noah couldn’t handle, so he
pushed her away. (Which was okay, there is someone in Louisiana by the name of
Revel Lee who has Harper ALWAYS ON HIS MIND – ha!) But Noah is going to have to
face the fact that he needs to loosen up. Noah needs a woman who can make him
glad he’s a man and show him that there is more than one path to walk, more
than one way to make love, and more excitement and passion in this world than
he ever realized. Skye is that woman.
As the book opens, Noah is battling his sorrow and anger over Aron’s disappearance. He even has the audacity to wonder if Aron doesn’t want to be found. (WHEW! HUGE SCENE HERE! HA!) The family is tired of Noah and his rigid outlook on life and the only solace he can find is with Skye, who wants him just the way he is and doesn’t mind teaching him how to enjoy life and sex and – — haha – well, I won’t give it all away.
Skye is not the type of woman Noah is used to. Skye is Native American. She is confident. She is strong. She is serene and she is the sexiest thing he has ever seen, held, or touched in his life. She also has a secret that turns both of their lives upside down – - but, I digress. I am fascinated with Skye. I am going to spend time in Broken Bow, Oklahoma in a cabin on the river and I’m going to be Skye for a while. She hunts. She rides bareback. She is one with nature. She holds her arms up to the setting sun and knows she is at peace in the midst of the storm. She is exactly what Noah needs.
I have pattered Skye after an ancestor of mine. I am a mutt, as you know. I am Creole. I have French blood, Spanish blood and Indian blood running through my veins. The Indian part comes from Dosha. She lived in the late 1800’s in the eastern part of Texas known as the Big Thicket. She, like Skye, was strong and determined to take care of her family, even when her husband was too incapacitated to do it for her. You see, my great-great-whatever grandfather was not a McCoy. He was a rascal. A drunkard rascal.
The home he built for Dosha and their child was not the best of dwellings. It was made of logs that were not fitted together well with mud or clay or whatever they used as mortar back in those early Texas pioneer days. And the part of Texas they lived in was a wild wilderness full of predators and snakes and alligators and – yes, Indians. They made their living trapping and living off the land. And somehow, somewhere, great-whatever-grandfather found plenty to drink.
One night, he was passed out drunk and Dosha was caring for their child. The fire that was keeping them from freezing was beginning to die down and the much needed wood to keep it going was out in the dark cold night. She had to have it though, so she put up on her buckskin jacket and prepared to face the elements – until she heard it – a hair-raising scream that tore through the night and caused goosebumps to rise on her body. It was a sound she feared, it was a sound she dreaded. The spine-tingling scream had sounded like a woman in distress, but it wasn’t – it was a panther, a hungry panther. Dosha tried to rousé her worthless husband, but it was no use, he was dead to the world. So, she gathered up her son and held him close – and waited.
The fire was only smoldering now. She listened – waiting for another scream. Nothing. Maybe, the big cat was gone. GRRRRR! No! He wasn’t, he was right outside the cabin wall. RIPPPP!!! Dosha jumped! He was scratching at clawing at the logs. Clasping her baby to her breast, she whimpered in fright. Staring at the blank wall of the cabin, she tried to imagine what the panther was doing just on the other side. Scratches and snarls met her ears and she cringed, but what she saw next, horrified her. She stared in disbelief.
Toes. Claws. She could see the feet of the panther sticking through the cracks of the logs! He was climbing the wall of the cabin! Dosha jumped to her feet. The fire had died down. The beast was intending to come down their chimney like some macabre winter visitor. Laying down her little boy, she raced to the fire and tried to stoke it up, but the embers were too faint. Racing back to the wall, she checked the monster’s progress, he was higher than before. Screaming for her husband, she jostled his dead to the world body, to no avail. So she did the only thing left – running to the small wardrobe, she slung out shirts and pants until she found it – John’s hatchet. He carried it on trips, but he kept it wrapped in a handkerchief when not in use, tools were precious in the wilderness.
Holding the hatchet in her hand, she approached the razor sharp claws and feet of the panther. The front ones were high, the lower ones about at her waist. One jump was all it would take and he would be on the roof. There was no time to waste, so she drew back her arm and struck, cutting off three of the panthers toes as they were bared to her gaze, gripping at the raw pine wood.
A wild, screaming roar rent the night and the panther wailed in agony. But he let go and he jumped down and he raced off into the night to lick his wounds. And Dosha and her son survived to live another day (or Jess and I wouldn’t be here with you now – ha!)
Thank you for reading, I’ll have a cover to share with you soon. I’m enjoying Skye Blue and I hope you will soon. It will be a little while before its released, I’ll give you information when I have it.
As the book opens, Noah is battling his sorrow and anger over Aron’s disappearance. He even has the audacity to wonder if Aron doesn’t want to be found. (WHEW! HUGE SCENE HERE! HA!) The family is tired of Noah and his rigid outlook on life and the only solace he can find is with Skye, who wants him just the way he is and doesn’t mind teaching him how to enjoy life and sex and – — haha – well, I won’t give it all away.
Skye is not the type of woman Noah is used to. Skye is Native American. She is confident. She is strong. She is serene and she is the sexiest thing he has ever seen, held, or touched in his life. She also has a secret that turns both of their lives upside down – - but, I digress. I am fascinated with Skye. I am going to spend time in Broken Bow, Oklahoma in a cabin on the river and I’m going to be Skye for a while. She hunts. She rides bareback. She is one with nature. She holds her arms up to the setting sun and knows she is at peace in the midst of the storm. She is exactly what Noah needs.
I have pattered Skye after an ancestor of mine. I am a mutt, as you know. I am Creole. I have French blood, Spanish blood and Indian blood running through my veins. The Indian part comes from Dosha. She lived in the late 1800’s in the eastern part of Texas known as the Big Thicket. She, like Skye, was strong and determined to take care of her family, even when her husband was too incapacitated to do it for her. You see, my great-great-whatever grandfather was not a McCoy. He was a rascal. A drunkard rascal.
The home he built for Dosha and their child was not the best of dwellings. It was made of logs that were not fitted together well with mud or clay or whatever they used as mortar back in those early Texas pioneer days. And the part of Texas they lived in was a wild wilderness full of predators and snakes and alligators and – yes, Indians. They made their living trapping and living off the land. And somehow, somewhere, great-whatever-grandfather found plenty to drink.
One night, he was passed out drunk and Dosha was caring for their child. The fire that was keeping them from freezing was beginning to die down and the much needed wood to keep it going was out in the dark cold night. She had to have it though, so she put up on her buckskin jacket and prepared to face the elements – until she heard it – a hair-raising scream that tore through the night and caused goosebumps to rise on her body. It was a sound she feared, it was a sound she dreaded. The spine-tingling scream had sounded like a woman in distress, but it wasn’t – it was a panther, a hungry panther. Dosha tried to rousé her worthless husband, but it was no use, he was dead to the world. So, she gathered up her son and held him close – and waited.
The fire was only smoldering now. She listened – waiting for another scream. Nothing. Maybe, the big cat was gone. GRRRRR! No! He wasn’t, he was right outside the cabin wall. RIPPPP!!! Dosha jumped! He was scratching at clawing at the logs. Clasping her baby to her breast, she whimpered in fright. Staring at the blank wall of the cabin, she tried to imagine what the panther was doing just on the other side. Scratches and snarls met her ears and she cringed, but what she saw next, horrified her. She stared in disbelief.
Toes. Claws. She could see the feet of the panther sticking through the cracks of the logs! He was climbing the wall of the cabin! Dosha jumped to her feet. The fire had died down. The beast was intending to come down their chimney like some macabre winter visitor. Laying down her little boy, she raced to the fire and tried to stoke it up, but the embers were too faint. Racing back to the wall, she checked the monster’s progress, he was higher than before. Screaming for her husband, she jostled his dead to the world body, to no avail. So she did the only thing left – running to the small wardrobe, she slung out shirts and pants until she found it – John’s hatchet. He carried it on trips, but he kept it wrapped in a handkerchief when not in use, tools were precious in the wilderness.
Holding the hatchet in her hand, she approached the razor sharp claws and feet of the panther. The front ones were high, the lower ones about at her waist. One jump was all it would take and he would be on the roof. There was no time to waste, so she drew back her arm and struck, cutting off three of the panthers toes as they were bared to her gaze, gripping at the raw pine wood.
A wild, screaming roar rent the night and the panther wailed in agony. But he let go and he jumped down and he raced off into the night to lick his wounds. And Dosha and her son survived to live another day (or Jess and I wouldn’t be here with you now – ha!)
Thank you for reading, I’ll have a cover to share with you soon. I’m enjoying Skye Blue and I hope you will soon. It will be a little while before its released, I’ll give you information when I have it.
Thanks
Sable
Sable
Hunter,
Sable. (May 16, 2013). Dosha, Contest Winners and a little chat about Noah. Wild and Wicked Cowboys. Retrieved
from http://wildandwickedcowboys.wordpress.com/2013/05/16/dosha-contest-winners-and-a-little-chat-about-noah/
Adoro seus livros e estou morrendo aqui para saber o que aconteceu com Aron???E para saber um pouco mais de Zane Saucier e Presley.... e os primos Mcoys...
ReplyDeleteBJ
wow Sable, I loved reading that part of your heritage. I can't wait to read Skye Blue, it sounds awesome!! Christine L.
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