Wednesday, August 23, 2017





It takes a true artist to pursue his victims in the art of seduction, and Stowy Jenkins is no exception, especially with blood as his medium.


Stone tuned to the weather channel for the umpteenth time. Come on, tell old Stone exactly when those storms’ll hit. I have plans, and my artistry demands perfection.
Having attained the information he desired, he switched the television off and stepped outside to check on the pickup. He loaded new tire chains in the tool box in the bed, checked the oil, then dropped into the front seat and turned on the ignition. “Now that’s what I call a sweet sound.” He patted the steering wheel. “Tonight, we thoroughly confuse the rookie!”
Stone decided to cruise down 64th Street to the Synroc Club, where he knew a long-legged native girl named Jewel usually hung out. “Ah, Jewel, there you are, my little Eskimo beauty. This will be in honor of you, Detective.” He pulled up in front of her.

Monday, August 14, 2017


The WEP is all about the prompt

and this month it was


Did you take the challenge?

Just add your name to the list.

But if you're here just for the stories,

DL after the name means 'direct link' to the story.



Mathew taught me how to catch a football, and was Romeo to my Juliette in the school play, my first kiss, and my first love. Mathew became my friend in grade school and my lover in high school. When an opportunity to go to England for college arrived, he insisted I take it. For the first year, we tried maintaining a long-distance relationship but failed.

He met someone else, and I had to let him go. It was only fair. I’d left him. When I came home to bury my parents, I found that he’d not returned after college. No one knew where he was. And then the reunion committee sent out the invitations to our ten-year class reunion. I had to go. He might be there.

He was.

He caught my eye, and it was as though all those years between hadn’t occurred. His smile told me all was forgiven. Still the most handsome man in the room, all muscle, with deep blue eyes, and dark curly locks. He was just as I imagined, unassuming, funny, and sweet. I couldn’t believe I’d ever let him go. I hoped this time it would end differently.

“You never married?” I held his hand in mine. “Me neither.”

“How could I, you were living in another country.” Mathew grinned, and my heart melted.

“You do realize that air travel has been possible since the last century?”

He laughed. “I’m a pilot. I’d better be aware of that fact.”

I was impressed. I knew he graduated with an engineering degree, but I didn’t know he’d learned to fly a plane. “That’s wonderful, congratulations!”

“I’d love to show you the night sky. Would you fly with me?”

“I’d love to. When?”

“Now. I only came to this shindig to see you.” He squeezed my hand. “Ready to blow this popsicle stand for some adventure?”

“More than ready.” Those were the last words we’d said to each other the day he saw me off at the airport for my flight to England. Time stopped. The room disappeared. The music and noise faded as he pulled me into his arms and kissed me. Long and deep until I was breathless. Just like our last kiss, but this time, we left together.

His Piper Cub climbed into a purple sky with stars lighting the night like millions of shimmering LED lights. It was beautiful and romantic, a view that brought tears to my eyes. We floated through the air. Silent, and comfortable, exchanging sly glances. Emotions were high, the night was filled with possibility, promising passion, and love.

Mathew landed on a patch of land just south a small chalet in the Rocky Mountains.

“I’ve dreamed of bringing you here for years. You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, but, where are we?”

“My home away from home. A place where we can have our own private reunion.”

“I’d like that,” I said as we walked hand in hand to his cabin. I was anxious but thrilled. This reunion couldn’t have been sweeter.

The cabin was an A-frame, with a view of the valley below. I assumed a forest surrounded the lake that reflected the stars above, and I imagined the mountains ahead and above us. It was lovely, I couldn’t wait to see it in the morning sunshine.

We went straight to his bed and made love in front of a fire. That night the reunion was physical, sensual, and more satisfying than anything I could’ve imagined.

“Can you stay?” he asked as I lay wrapped in his arms.

“I wish I could. I have an interview Monday morning. The job of a lifetime in Paris. Can you come with me? Is there anything holding you here?”

He pulled me close. “I’ll think on it. Now sleep, morning will be here soon.”

 After several hours, I awoke to a stranger. Mathew had secured me to the bed with handcuffs, blindfolded me, and proceeded to beat me viciously with a leather strap. I cried, screamed, whimpered, and begged him to stop.

He did, but not until my body was a mass of bleeding welts.

“Why? Please tell me why?”

“You made your choice ten years ago. Now I’ve made mine.”

“I don’t understand?”

“Neither did I.” Was all he said.

He left me alone, still handcuffed to the bed posts. Unable to move, I slept, cried, and screamed for release. I don’t know if he was there. Was I alone or was he watching?

That night, he returned. He threw me into the shower then he attacked again. He raped and stabbed me repeatedly. I prayed for death. But the God’s would not release me from hell. I passed out but awoke just as he threw me into a new hell hole. A cellar where women that looked like me had died. I counted ten in my search for safety as a storm broke overhead.

The smell of death was beyond reason, but decaying bodies, loss of blood, and a flooding grave meant the end will come soon. The winds howled, and the rain came down in sheets. Soon it was pouring into the chamber. I knew the grim reaper had lost patience. My blood mixed with the rising water and I wondered how long I could hold my breath.  I laughed instead and watched the water rise. The other bodies began to float in a macabre synchronized fashion as I realized that the man I’ve loved since the age of seven was a serial killer.

I’d created a monster?


The memory of that night will never leave me. Especially when Mathew came back for me. He lovingly stitched up my wounds and nursed me back to health.  Now, when he takes a new victim, I clean up the mess.

Mathew still doesn’t believe that I’d never leave him again. But each year he adds length to the chain around my ankle. Someday, I’ll earn his trust.


Yolanda Renee © 2017

Wednesday, August 9, 2017





It takes a true artist to pursue his victims in the art of seduction, and Stowy Jenkins is no exception, especially with blood as his medium.


Suzy shrieked, drowning out the loud music.
“Bleach kills everything. Can’t be too careful. Can we?” His maniacal laughter drowned out her cries and sounded like a gaggle of witches tied to a burning tree. Stone was in his element and almost danced around the table as he began preparing for his next task.
Crying and whimpering from the pain, Suzy soon quieted. Her mouth stretched, and her eyes widened as Stone began to gather his tools. He placed scalpels, needles, and a thin roll of wire on the table beside her.
“No!” she pleaded. “I’ll do anything, anything. But please, not this.”
“But, my dear, you wanted to dance. I’m going to make sure you always do.” He leered at her. “I am the artist. You, my dear, are only the medium.” He sat down next to her and threaded a long needle with the wire. “This is a glover’s needle. Taxidermists like me mostly use it on small animals, but you're so tiny, it’s perfect. I’m still trying to decide whether or not I’ll need that big one, the upholsterer’s regulator. Fancy name for a damned big needle, but it’ll go through the thick parts like butter.”

Does it work?
We'll see.

Have you tried it?
What was your result?

Monday, August 7, 2017


An awesome blogging friend, C. Lee McKenzie, author of some truly fabulous YA novels, and a blog called THE WRITE GAME has chosen me as Featured Author for the month of August. I am beyond honored, and truly thrilled for this great marketing opportunity.



And she's sharing MY BOOKS!

It takes a true artist to pursue his victims in the art of seduction, and Stowy Jenkins is no exception, especially with blood as his medium.


Reality Check
 The axe struck again and again. The surrounding snow-covered mountains echoed each chop. Muscles rippled, and sweat glistened on a bare chest, but with each strike, the tension eased from Steven’s body. Jena’s rejection and Reed’s continued dismissal from key crime scenes had him searching for answers, and the mountains of the Brooks Range was the place he always found them. His Uncle Sky Quinn’s cabin had always been a sanctuary. After his Uncle Atian was murdered, Quinn, an Inuit tracker, became Steven’s honorary uncle and took over as his mentor and trainer. But Quinn was much more than that to Steven, and while calling him uncle was a sign of respect, he knew Quinn thought of him as a son.
“I had several days’ work out here,” Quinn said when he handed Steven a bottle of water. “Appreciate your efforts. You remind me of Atian. He used to do the same thing when troubled.”
Steven grinned, drank half the bottle of water, and poured the rest over his head. “It’s just what I needed.”
“The water or the work?”
“Both.” Steven began stacking the wood.
Quinn picked up a couple pieces of wood and added them to the stack. They worked together in silence until Quinn asked, “What’s going on?”
Steven put the last of the wood on the pile. “There’s a monster killing young women in Anchorage.”
“Why do you think he’s doing it?”
“Because he can. Because he gets off on it. Because the bastard has the means.”
“So, he walks among ordinary folk, his evil cleverly hidden.”
“Exactly. How do I unmask the beast?”
“Make him come to you.”
“If I were his type that would make it easy,” Steven frowned. “But I think this monster means to make the state bleed.
“Such creatures are cunning. You need to make yourself known to the beast. Get in his way. But, remember, if you bait a grizzly, be prepared for a ferocious fight.”


A killer plays cat and mouse with a young widow against the snowy backdrop of an Alaskan winter. 

World damnation is a psychotic man’s goal, but two obstacles stand in his way, greed and a dedicated detective.


Flames burn between a hardboiled cop and a gifted artist, but soon extinguish as another man’s obsession ignites into an inferno of desire, driving him to destroy the object of his madness.

Wednesday, August 2, 2017



What are your pet peeves when reading/writing/editing?

My biggest pet peeve regarding READING is when the story ends in a cliffhanger. In other words, buy the next book, and I’ll let you in on the real ending. HATE, HATE, HATE that!

Setting up the next story in the series is great, but I think a writer needs to tell a complete story in each book!

I’ve no real pet peeves regarding WRITING other than the fact that it takes me much longer than I’d like, but I’ve never been disappointed in the result.

I find the EDITING process the most fun. I’ve found that the true story reveals itself after I’ve handed off what I originally considered a finished story to a talented editor.  Once they’ve made their suggestions the real work begins, and the book really begins to shine.

Thanks for stopping by. I can’t wait to read your pet peeves!


Be sure to say hello and thanks!
There’s a new WEP Challenge this month.

An interesting prompt – think class reunion, family reunion, long lost friends reunited – where does this prompt take you?

Sign up and share your story here!

Wednesday, July 5, 2017


Congratulations to the founder

For making the Writer’s Digest 19th Annual 101 Best Websites for Writers!


What is one valuable lesson you've learned since you started writing?

I’ve learned that laughter is an antidote for a bad review! See the humor in their words, and you’ll see the hilarity in your own.

I’ll be taking a break for a while. I need to regroup, redesign, revitalize.
© 2017 Yolanda Renée
I hope you’re all enjoying your summer/winter depending on the hemisphere you're in, and that all your writing goals are being met!

Be sure to say hello to all the awesome co-hosts Tamara Narayan, Pat Hatt, Patricia Lynne, Juneta Key, and Doreen McGettigan!

Remember the IWSG is on Twitter too - @TheIWSG and the hashtag is #IWSG

Are you taking a break this summer/winter?
From writing, blogging, or just to enjoy the season?

Tuesday, June 27, 2017


Reader’s Super Powers

Thank you, Yolanda, for the honor to chat with your visitors about Forbidden. You’ve given me free reign to discuss what hasn’t be covered in my guest posts so far. Wow, give a woman that kind of freedom, the world better take notice.
I’m betting your readers have no idea about the power they possess. Yep, every reader has the force that can send an author into the world of ‘best seller’ or plunge her/his books into oblivion. I’m not sure if I should share this secret or not. The risk is great. But the benefits are enormous.

Any guesses on the identity of a reader’s power? Reviews? Yes!!
I can spend hundreds of dollars on ads, have a great book cover, an engaging synopsis, but if readers write negative reviews on my novel, the sales reports will be abysmal. Now, if the book truly deserves the one--star rating on Amazon, the author might consider registering for a writer’s course, or take up knitting. The point is that readers value the opinion of other readers.

Compose a review, even a brief report, giving information about what you loved, and/or what was lacking in the novel. It’s understood that a reviewer’s report is subjective. What one reader didn’t like, another reader might be swept away in a fantasy heaven. However, each review has the power to sway a reader to buy the book, or chose another book.
There’s no need to be cruel or nasty – some reviewers are unbelievably nasty. If you didn’t enjoy the read, simply say so. Point out the reason. Maybe you couldn’t connect with the characters, the plot dragged on, or the ending was predictable. Perhaps the book was poorly edited.

I read every review I receive. So far, knock on wood, I’ve received only one crushing review. The rest have been wonderful. Occasionally, there’s a comment for me to consider while writing my next novel. It’s all a learning experience. If I can improve my writing technique through a reader/reviewer’s suggestions, that’s perfect.
Now for the rules. Amazon is very clear on their standards for reviewers. If a reviewer breaks these rules, Amazon will delete the review. Here is quick list of what you need to know when writing a review on Amazon.


To post Customer Reviews or Customer Answers, post on Customer Discussion Forums, or submit content to followers, you must have spent at least $50 on using a valid credit or debit card. Prime subscriptions and promotional discounts don't qualify towards the $50 minimum. You do not need to meet this requirement to post Customer Questions, create or modify Profile pages, Lists, or Registries, or to read content posted by other customers.
Be Helpful and Relevant

The Community is intended to provide helpful, relevant content to customers. Content you submit should be relevant and based on your own honest opinions and experience.
·         For Community features focused on a specific topic, you should only submit content related to that topic.

·         Customer Reviews and Questions and Answers should be about the product. Feedback about the seller, your shipment experience, or packaging can be shared at or Comments about pricing, product availability or alternate ordering options are also not about the product and should not be shared in Customer Reviews or Questions and Answers.

Respect Others

Amazon values diverse opinions, so you may disagree with some content that you come across. Please keep in mind that something that may be disagreeable to you may not violate our Guidelines. In order to maintain a welcoming environment for all users, your participation in the Community must always be respectful of others. In particular:
·         Don't post content that is libelous, defamatory, harassing, threatening, or inflammatory. For example, don't use obscenities or profanity, and don't express hatred or intolerance for people on the basis of race, ethnicity, nationality, gender or gender identity, religion, sexual orientation, age, or disability, including by promoting organizations with such views.

·         Don't post content that is obscene, pornographic, or lewd, or that contains nudity or sexually explicit images.

·         Don't post content that invades others' privacy. For example, don't post other people's phone numbers, email addresses, mailing addresses, or other personal information, and don't post links to phishing or other malware sites.

·         Don't impersonate other people or organizations or pretend to be someone or something you're not.

·         Don't repeatedly send messages or requests to other people.

·         Don't attempt to drown out other people's opinions, including by posting from multiple accounts or coordinating with others.

·         Don't engage in name-calling or attack people based on whether you agree with them.

·         You may question the beliefs and expertise of others as long as it is relevant and done in a respectful and non-threatening manner.

The first review you write may be a challenge. Keep it short and to the point. The next will be much easier. Some book reviewers become professional and are in high demand. You will get free books in exchange for an honest review.
God bless all book reviewers. You’re worth a ton of gold.

F. Stone / Feather Stone
Connect with her at any of these links:

Forbidden, Romance Suspense/Thriller
The Guardian’s Wildchild, Romance Suspense/Mysticism

Do you write reviews for the books you read?
If not, why not?

If you write books, how do you go about getting reviews?


Tuesday, June 20, 2017



          “Quit daydreaming!” A large crack sounded as pain registered across Heather’s back.

       “Sorry, Master.” Heather bowed despite the pain and hurriedly lifted another crate of canned goods onto the wagon. And then another and another until all the vegetables were loaded for market. Taking a deep breath, she added the final two crates of fresh goods. Fear and an intense need to please the master had her finishing in no time.

       “Loaded and secured, Master.” She knelt at his feet.

       “About time.” He jumped into the seat and grabbed the reins. “I’ve left a list of chores to keep your idle hands busy. The most important is the wedding dress. Finish it. Mr. Humphries paid a handsome price for your lazy hide, so make sure you’re ready.”

       “I will, Master.”

       “You will or you’ll marry naked. Make sure your room is cleared and ready for your replacement. She’ll return with me.”

       “Thank you, Master.” She bowed and kissed the dirty hem of his robe. “Please have a safe trip.”

       He snapped his whip. Heather flinched at the sound but watched his departure until he was out of sight and the dust cloud created by thundering hooves dissipated.

       Joy radiated from her toes to her fingertips as the Master’s distance grew. Bliss filled her soul. Her body swayed, and a song rose from her throat. Heather sang and danced until breathless, then sank to the ground and lay among the forget-me-nots.

“Have you decided?” a tiny voice asked. It came from a small body. Transparent wings vibrated faster than a hummingbird. The nymph flitted from flower to flower before settling on Heather’s knee as she sat up.

       “I’m not sure,” she told him.

       “What’? Are you daft? Either you cross the bridge to freedom or marry old man Humphrey and slop his swine until he decides to kill you.

       “Ethan, don’t be so dramatic.”

       “My best friend Bertrand saw it. He tried to intervene and lost both his legs because of it. I wouldn't lie to you.”

       “Nymphs are bewitchers – little devils.” She gazed at him through her eyelashes, embarrassment reddening her cheeks.

       “Master told you that?” The small nymph stood on her knee his hands on his hips, his wings still and glistening in the sunshine.

Heather nodded. She found the creatures’ bright blue eyes mesmerizing despite his ugliness and spindly limbs. He looked like a twisted twig, only his eyes and perfect white teeth were human in nature.

“Have I not healed the many wounds he’s inflicted or aided you when the chores became too much? Why do you question me?” He sat down in the lotus position on her knee cap. His arms crossed and his eyes wide and questioning.

She giggled. “You’re always so serious. The horrors you describe just can’t exist. The world is too beautiful.” She threw her arms open to the heavens.

“You would be concerned too if Master didn’t have you enthralled with black magic. Do you remember how you got here?”

“I’ve tried, but no. My only memories are of Master’s love for me.”

“Love? You call daily beatings love?”

“He says I’m a silly girl given to a restless mind. He’s right. I have daydreams. He took me in when I was homeless, and he’s given me everything.”

“The Master lies!” Ethan flew up from her knee in a huff and sprinkled her in sparkling dust. “REMEMBER!” He flew off in a blur.

Glittering remnants of the dust settled onto her exposed skin and then disappeared. Memories began flooding her mind. Recollections of another life, another place and time. A family. The mother she resembled, her adoring father, the sister who looked up to her. Even the wedding she’d planned to a handsome young man named Cody. But most surprising was her name – Logan Marshall, not Heather.

Her scream brought Ethan back. “Now do you see?”

“Where am I?” She looked at the world differently.

That doesn't matter, but if you follow me, I’ll show you how to get back to your life.”

“Show me.”

Ethan flew toward the forest, and Logan followed. The plowed fields were densely packed but easy to traverse. She stopped right before entering the dark forest.

“Why do you hesitate?”

“I’ve heard screams. Master says wild man-eating beasts live here.”

“Peacocks. This is my home. There’s nothing to fear!”

Logan looked back at the log cabin, the farm that had been her home, but memories of a family tugged at her. Hesitation vanished. She joined Ethan who waited just inside the foliage. He led the way to a clearing. The gorge opening yawned wide before them. The end of the road.

“Where’s the bridge?”

Ethan whistled and threw out more glittering dust. A bridge of fire appeared. “See, salvation.”

“Fire? No way!” She backed away.

“Blue flame is magic, cool.” Ethen flew through it. “See, move closer, you’ll feel no heat. You’re pure of heart. An innocent. Strip first, you have to leave everything from this world behind to make the journey.”

Logan stepped forward, and a mixture of blue, green and purple flames formed a solid looking bridge with massive girders. Instead of crackling the fire sounded like the flutter of hundreds of nymph’s wings. Ethan was right, she felt no heat.

She kicked off her shoes, removed her smock and underclothes, but hesitated.

“Go on, your family is waiting.”

She smiled and took the first step forward. “Thank you.”

“No problem, saving virgins is my calling.”

Logan’s eyes grew wide. “But I’m not . . .

Ethan laughed.

Logan screamed as the flames consumed her.

“I know. But each sacrifice brings me closer and closer to becoming a full demon and owning a kingdom of slave maidens of my own.” His skin turned red and horns popped out on his bald head.

970 words
© Yolanda Renée 2017