​“Two rooms,” she blurted.

The clerk hesitated. Dane bent down and murmured in Willow’s ear, “One room. I need to protect you.”

She turned wide eyes up at him and shivered and wondered who would protect her from him. Oh, no, she did not believe for a moment that he’d hurt her—at least not beat her up, stab her, or attempt to kill her. (Attempt? Hah.) No, what she feared was a different kind of assault that would dissolve her resistance and bind her to him irrevocably.

At that point, the evening shift manager rushed through an office door and said, “Are you victims of the hotel collapse?”

“We are,” Dane confirmed.

He turned to the clerk, who looked confused, and explained, “The Palm Springs Palazzo Hotel has collapsed! Police are sending those victims who are ambulatory to other facilities. Make sure they get a room. We can’t be seen turning away customers who need us in this time of difficulty unless every single room is full.”

Willow suppressed a snort. Of course the hotel wouldn’t be turning away the rush of customers. The problem would be in collecting payment for the room nights and food, since she was sure many people wouldn’t have their money or belongings with them.

“One room,” Dane said. “Others are coming in even as we speak.”

And it was true, Willow realized. People whose bank accounts could withstand The Palms’ room rates were filling the lobby.

The clerk swiped two key cards and handed them to Dane. Efficiently, she gave him the room information and directed him to the elevator bank.

“Come, Willow,” he commanded softly and started walking. Once again, Willow was nearly jerked off her feet and she scrambled to keep up. The elevator doors opened almost immediately and in moments they were in their hotel room, a spacious junior suite. Only when the door had closed behind them did Dane release Willow’s hand. She determinedly stepped beyond his immediate reach and glared at him.

“What the hell is going on?” Willow demanded hotly.

Dane bolted the deadbolt and latched the safety to prevent unwanted entry, then unwrapped a glass from its protective paper and filled it at the bathroom tap for a drink. He drained the glass and set it down carefully before answering her.

“Sit.”

“I’ll stand, thank you.”

“Sit,” he repeated, eyes glittering dangerously.

 This week's writing prompt asks authors to express their gratitude.

Living where I do, I have much for which to be grateful. Watching the news or reading the newspaper brings home that dismissive expression of "First World problems" when I gripe about something that annoys or inconveniences me. Because my list of gratitude would be exhaustive (and exhausting), I'll restrict it to a few key entries.

I'm grateful for:

• My husband. It's got to be said, right? I'll admit that he wasn't supportive when I expressed a desire to go freelance; however, after losing my job three years ago, he's been extremely supportive. I truly appreciate him for that. I'm also grateful for being able to justify not going back to being a corporate wage slave. I'm a (much) happier person and he sees that. (So does everyone else.) David may not really understand what I do or why I like doing it--and that includes the menagerie of four-footed critters--but he's there for me.
• My publicist. Dee really goes above and beyond the job description of social media marketing guru. She serves as a sounding board, sometimes as an editor or critic, and often as a friend.
• Cindra and Jeanette. We met less than a decade ago, but they've become my best buddies, my riding companions, my readers, my fans.
• My editor. Every writer should have an editor who fits his or her writing style as Cindy does mine. I rely on Cindy to correct my typos and other errors, to give me virtual dope slaps when my story goes off-course, and to help me make those manuscripts shine.
• The Mastermind Group. This mere handful of fellow "solopreneurs" share my pain. They commiserate and offer intelligent and empathetic insight, suggest solutions, and generally provide the like-minded support we all need.

Of course, I'm thankful for the readers who enjoy my stories and even plunk down their hard-earned money to buy the books. I'm even thankful for the readers who leave less than flatter reviews: I learn from them what works and what doesn't work. Writing and publishing stories is an evolving process.

Willow by Holly Bargo #review
Posted by brriske 

Willow is a young sidhe who was determined to branch out on her own from her very sheltered parents and her village. Of all places for her to work, she works for the National American Vampire Association. But sidhe blood is poison to vampires. She’s a pure white sidhe, a healing sidhe and runs across a fallen woman. It’s her nature to heal. She realized she’s healed the famous bain sidhe, Rowan Nemad. Rowan gives her a parting piece of friendly advice of locking down her glamour tighter because there are many things hunting sidhe and would claim her against her will. They chatted through some of the conference and Willow’s eyes fall on the famed bodyguard Dane Karl. And for some reason, he asks her for coffee. She’s very intimidated by the weretiger, as much as he’s trying to put her at ease. He recognizes her as his soulmate and knows that he has to court her. ​ 

Ah, there he was. Willow’s breath caught in her throat and she grew very still as she watched him, admired him. A tall man with straight shoulder length, dark blond hair, massively built of long, thick bone and hard muscle and no fat, he prowled slowly along the aisles of exhibits. She watched him pause beside the booth occupied by Night Life Magazine. He desultorily flipped through a few pages, exchanged a few words with the publisher’s staff person who manned the display, and moved on. His gait was slow and gliding, predatory. His heavily lidded eyes appeared sleepy until one took a second look and realized that they were sharp and hyper-watchful. 

She concentrated, delicately calibrating her body and releasing the tiniest amount of tigress pheromones into the air. 

A convention attendee stopped to ask about membership benefits, commanding Willow’s attention. She smiled pleasantly, showed him the list of membership benefits and explained them, and described the membership fee structure.

Dane stopped in front of a booth promoting eighteen karat gold fang caps, with and without gemstone embellishments. His nostrils flared and the back of his tongue tingled, detecting the stimulation of pheromones almost too faint to detect. He inhaled more deeply through his mouth and followed the whisper of scent to a slender brunette who seemed to be completely unaware of his presence as she addressed an attendee’s questions. There she is. A tingle of awareness shivered through his body as he studied her from across the aisle. He watched her thank the attendee for his interest, press some literature in to his hand, and slowly realize that someone was staring at her.