Author Archives: Flossie Benton Rogers

About Flossie Benton Rogers

Paranormal romance author who loves to shake the edges of reality.

Tuesday Tales: Writing Handsome Guy

Welcome to Tuesday Tales, a weekly blog featuring diverse authors posting excerpts from their works in progress based on word and picture prompts. We’re a book hungry bunch that enjoys reading as much as you do. Today we have a picture prompt. My excerpt is from a paranormal fantasy in which a goddess occasionally inhabits the body of an archaeological assistant. Please read the excerpts of the other authors at Tuesday Tales.

Resolve washed over him, and he set off at a fair distance behind. The way she blew him off he was compelled to follow her. What if she was in some kind of trouble? Over her head or something? Prue was practical in most ways but a bit of a crusader when a cause flipped her switch. And she hadn’t been herself lately.

When she stopped and looked around, he ducked into an abandoned storefront, feeling like Archie Goodwin on a tail. He wiped gutter drips from his eyes. Yeah, so much for that analogy. A proper Archie Goodwin would be wearing a fedora. And carrying a Marley. This area was deserted and darker than where they’d started, with a number of burnt out street lights. Prue sprinted over a faded crosswalk, avoiding puddles where the road dipped. When she veered left and kept going, he zigzagged across.

After a few more blocks she stopped under a sputtering yellow street light and glanced at her watch. He backed up against the edge of a building in a camo attempt. When she didn’t take off, he edged behind a spot where the building jutted out. Here he could peer around and still keep most of his body hidden. His nose and eyes prickled with the stale smell of old bricks and mortar.

A couple of minutes passed, and she checked her watch again. Who was she meeting and why here? This was no place for her to be hanging about. Ahead of them fog rolled in like a steam room door barging open. A rustling noise filled the air and stopped. Footsteps sounded. From the fog and making straight for Prue strode a slickster who could have stepped off a GQ cover.

Her words tumbled out. “Finally! What do you mean keeping me waiting?”

The man held up something. “You’re in for a world of hurt.”

Simon dashed forward. “Leave her alone.”

She whirled. “Simon! What are you doing here?”

“I followed you. What’s going on, Prue? Do you know this guy?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Simon.”

The man’s eyes gleamed in amusement.

Prue’s eyes shot daggers. “Of course I know him. He works for my family.”

I hope you enjoyed the snippet based on the picture prompt. Thanks for stopping by. Return to Tuesday Tales.

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance

 

Tuesday Tales: Writing Angry

Welcome to Tuesday Tales, a weekly blog featuring diverse authors posting excerpts from their works in progress based on word and picture prompts. We’re a book hungry bunch that enjoys reading as much as you do. Today our word prompt is angry. My excerpt is from a paranormal fantasy in which a goddess inhabits the body of an archaeological assistant. Please read the excerpts of the other authors at Tuesday Tales.

Simon pushed open the front door and handed her the key. “Usual shots?”

Tight lipped, she marched in, not waiting to see if he followed.

He was right behind her. “What’s got you in a tiff?”

“Nothing.” She shed the gauzy wrap and dropped it and the ridiculously dainty evening purse onto a chair. She wanted to stomp her foot and pummel him. Instead, she made her way to the small kitchen island that served as a bar.

“It’s clear you’re angry. You’re mad as a hornet. What did I do?”

She gritted her teeth and met his baffled look. A lock of hair fell over one eye, and he ruffled it back in that endearing way he had. Her glare softened, and a wavering sigh escaped her lips. He’d never claimed to be more than her friend. She couldn’t blame him for being attracted to the goddess of love. “Nothing at all. Sorry, I guess the theft has me rattled.”

Relief spread over his features, and he took his place at the bar to pour their shots.

She dropped ice in two glasses and splashed in the chaser. “So, you liked that ritzy place tonight?”

“Not particularly. Why’d you pick it?”

She shrugged and clinked shot glasses with him. “Thought it might be interesting. Cheers.”

“Down the hatch.”

They took the second batch to the living room. He pushed the television button, while she fished her bedroom slippers from under the couch. Without having to ask, he selected their favorite channel with all night classic horror films. Dracula leered seductively.

He glanced her way. “The food was good though. What there was of it.”

His pretend grumble made her laugh.

“Also it got you all glammed up.” He touched a finger to the soft peachy pink material. “You look nice.”

Sprite tickled her nose as she took a sip. “Thanks, Simon.”

I hope you enjoyed the snippet based on the word prompt angry. I’m glad you stopped by. Return to Tuesday Tales.

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance

Fae Friday: Gratefulness at Imbolc

Courtesy free Pixabay

We are smack dab in midwinter. I love that word midwinter, don’t you? On the ever turning Wheel of the Year, we are at the halfway point between the beginning of winter, or Winter Solstice, and the beginning of spring. It is a cross quarter day. The sun grows stronger in the battle between the light and the dark. Or maybe it is a dance between the two elemental forces.

The holy day is celebrated under various names, including Imbolc, Saint Brigid’s Day, and Candlemas. In Gaelic cultures Imbolc is a cross-quarter festival day, along with Beltane, Lughnasadh and Samhain. In olden times food and offerings were made to the goddess Brighid, and later to Saint Brigid. Supplicants journeyed to her holy wells to receive healing and restoration.

People have always relied on natural signs to determine how much longer cold weather will last. Our modern custom involves observing a groundhog and its shadow. The ancients had similar ways. The Celts in Ireland watched serpents or badgers to see if they emerged from their winter dens.

Imbolc, which means “ewe’s milk,” was the day the Cailleach or divine crone gathered her firewood for the rest of winter. If she wanted winter to last longer, she would make the day sunny in order to gather a plentiful amount of firewood. Folks, therefore, breathed a sigh of relief if the weather turned dreary on Imbolc because it meant the Cailleach was sleeping and winter almost over. The youthful, maidenly form of the Cailleach was the beloved Celtic goddess Brighid. She tended the hearth fires, and her nurturing power brought about spring and all the bounty to come.

Scholars say Brighid morphed into St. Brigid and Imbolc into the Christian feast of Candlemas. St. Brigid is a highly revered early Irish Christian nun, as well as an abbess and founder of the famous nunnery of Kildare in Ireland. Candlemas, which occurs forty days after Christmas, honored the Presentation of Jesus at the Temple and traditionally involved the priestly blessing of candles for use throughout the year.

From the hearth and firewood of the ancient Celtic Bridhig to the blessing of candles on Candlemas and the national fixation with the groundhog, Punxsutawney Phil, for millennia people have honored the return of the sun’s light and the inseminating warmth of spring. It’s our natural cycle.

With spring on its way, the world brightens with hope and optimism, and the heart opens to new beginnings. It is a time for realigning oneself and reaffirming intentions for the current cycle. A month ago many of us made New Year’s resolutions or at least thought about what we wanted to achieve in 2018.  Now the energy is fertile for a reminder and possible tweak of our goals. Today’s action creates tomorrow. What does the best tomorrow look like in your mind’s eye? What do you want it to look like? What steps can you take to narrow the gap?

Imbolc is a time for introspection and thankfulness for all our blessings. In mindset contemplation yesterday I realized that the best way to experience happiness is to express joyful gratitude. Not just before sleep as is my wont, but throughout the day to be mindful of life’s many blessings, large and small. How we talk to the Universe is how the Universe will talk to us.

What are you most thankful for?

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance

Tuesday Tales: Writing Hideous

“A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou.” Omar Khayyam

Welcome to Tuesday Tales, a weekly blog featuring diverse authors posting excerpts from their works in progress based on word and picture prompts. We’re a book hungry bunch that enjoys reading as much as you do. Today our word prompt is hideous. My excerpt is from a paranormal fantasy in which a goddess inhabits the body of an archaeological assistant. Please read the excerpts of the other authors at Tuesday Tales.

A waiter appeared with wine, hot loaves, and assurance he’d return for their order tout suite. He seemed more seasoned than their previous attendant.

Prue’s eyes fluttered, casting winged shapes onto her cheeks. “Ahh, the aroma of fresh bread. May I butter a slice for you, Simon?”

Surprised, he nodded and nudged the serving dish toward her.

She cut off an end and selected the next soft section, slathered it with creamy butter, and offered it to him. Her eyes were half closed, glittering facets of emerald and peridot.

He couldn’t believe the sensations bombarding his gut. To keep from blurting out anything about her eyes or other features, he crammed half the slice in his mouth.

Her lips pursed into a half smile. “A ravenous man is a turn on.”

Lord, where was his usual bag of quips when he needed it? “I had to forgo lunch today. You’re not having any bread?”

Buttering another slice, she bit into it and obviously savored the taste.

He had a wild urge to lick the butter off her bottom lip.

She let her tongue do the job. “Why did you skip lunch?”

“Berger was on overload after the break in.”

She coughed delicately. “Wh–what did he say about it?”

“Mainly that some hideous pendant had been stolen.”

She jerked up in her seat. “Why, how dare he?”

Half choking at her change in demeanor, he chewed and swallowed. “What do you mean?”

“The old buzzard wouldn’t know a sacred work of art from a worthless bauble, now would he?”

“You’re probably right about that.” Prue had never cared for Berger, but she was really worked up.

Her nails clicked on the table. “Did he show you the inventory for the piece?”

“No, why?”

“No reason. I just wondered.” She cleared her throat. “You know the old mudfish ticks me off.” She glared around at her surroundings. “Overpriced mausoleum.”

“What’s got into you? A minute ago you were drooling over this place.”

She shrugged. “Drooling over the bread maybe. I have to admit it is to die for.” She finished off her slice. “Yummo.”

He managed an awkward laugh. “For a while there I thought you’d been transformed into a changeling.”

She stopped chewing and stared at him. “And?”

“And what?”

“Which me do you prefer, usual me or changeling me?”

His skin bristled. It was clear she’d been putting him on. He bit out the words. “It’s hard to say.”

She cast her gaze down toward the table. “I see.”

I hope you enjoyed the snippet based on the word prompt hideous. Thanks for stopping by. Return to Tuesday Tales.

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance

Cover Reveal: Frost Fyre

 

I am beyond thrilled to present the amazing cover created by Dawne’ Dominique for my first poetry anthology, Frost Fyre. I know how pleased and proud my husband would be to see these poems in print. Publication will be in two weeks. 

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic

Tuesday Tales: Writing Greasy

 

Welcome to Tuesday Tales, a weekly blog featuring diverse authors posting excerpts from their works in progress based on word and picture prompts. We’re a book hungry bunch that enjoys reading as much as you do. Today our word prompt is greasy. My excerpt is from a paranormal fantasy in which a goddess inhabits the body of an archaeological assistant. Please read the excerpts of the other authors at Tuesday Tales.

What was with all the swiveled heads Prue was getting? Moving closer as they walked, he cupped her elbow with the gallant intention of escorting her up the steps of Chez Gaspard. At the touch of her warm soft flesh, a pleasurable jolt of electricity shot through him. He blinked a few times. What the hell was going on? Was his Mercury retrograde, as Prue was always saying? He gave her a quick glance, but his off kilter mode didn’t seem to affect her. In fact she appeared to be confident and glowing.

Once identification was confirmed, they were shown to a table by a fawning man boy whose attitude gave the impression Prue was all that and Simon was merely a walking talking table ornament not to be acknowledged. Simon put his foot down. Enough of this crap. With his size elevens, he adroitly maneuvered man boy aside and held the lady’s chair. With a request for a drink menu, he sent the junior toady on his way.

Now seated across from Prue, he attempted to regain his normal composure. This was good ole Prue for God’s sake, not some mystery date.

She unrolled the linen napkin and patted it onto her lap. Her eyes swept up to meet his in a slow motion gesture he’d never noticed on her before.

He cleared his throat. “I was surprised you chose this place.”

“Don’t you like it here, Simon?” Her voice was low and purring, as though she’d already sipped a measure of wine.

He surveyed the white and gold elegance. “Oh, sure, what’s not to like? Though you have to admit it’s a one eighty from our usual greasy spoon.”

That elicited a semblance of a smile. “To think anyone actually prefers fast food to French cuisine.”

Courtesy free Pixabay

“This from a woman who has been known to double back for additional honey mustard sauce.”

She shuddered delicately. “Tastes can change, darling.”

She’d called him darling. “You are full of surprises tonight.”

I hope you enjoyed the snippet based on the word prompt greasy. Thanks for stopping by. Return to Tuesday Tales.

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance

 

Citrus County Library Author Fair 2018

ATTENTION : AUTHOR FAIR

Each year the Citrus County Library System sponsors an Author Fair, featuring local published authors. This year’s will be held on Saturday, January 20, 2018 at Homosassa Public Library from 11-3 pm. Over 25 authors will be in attendance, with multiple genres represented. Come and chat with us! Get all our latest news. Find new books to devour and new authors to appreciate. 

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance

Tuesday Tales: Writing Red Dining

Courtesy free Pixabay

Welcome to Tuesday Tales, a weekly blog featuring diverse authors who post excerpts from their works in progress based on word and picture prompts. We’re a book hungry troop that enjoys reading as much as you do. From our choices of interesting pictures, I selected the one above, which I call “red dining.” The excerpt is from a dark fantasy romance, #7 in the Wytchfae series. Make sure to check out the other Tuesday Tales excerpts.

 

If Rhade hadn’t been seated next to her at the formal dining table, she swore she would have found some way to skedaddle. As it was, her fingers were practically woven together from twisting.

The whole set up here was an odd mixture of royal protocol and sensuous gratification. Sumptuous fruits and breads dripping with butter loaded the table. Resa had never seen so many half naked servers, all going about their business without a word. The Goddess of the Underworld had yet to make an appearance, but numerous guests had already arrived. Some were seated, and other cavorted in enclaves. Armed to the teeth guards lined the serpentine corridors visibly extending beyond the dining area.

The air lay heavy with swirls of incense and the decadent aroma of huge vats of red wine. Each section of table had its own special candles and incense. Theirs was a blend with top notes of myrrh. Along the walls, amber resin smoked in footed obsidian bowls. As much as she loved incense, and wine, you’d think she’d be more relaxed by now.

“Stop with the teeth gnashing.” Rhade’s voice was a low growl.

“I’m not.” But she realized she was, and sighed. She grabbed her goblet and took another swallow of wine.

“You weren’t kicked to the earth curb for that long. Most of your life was spent down here in the Underworld.”

“As a sheltered step sis of the most antisocial triplets known to man. Clotho never even let me date, much less attend one of Helle’s bacchanals.”

“This is a dinner.”

She waved a hand. “You know what I mean.”

“You’re intimidated.”

She hated to admit it and busied herself rearranging the red linen napkin in the water crystal.

“Don’t let Helle’s pomp parade get to you.” He ran a finger across her wrist. “Besides, you’ve seen me at my dregs and didn’t run away screeching.”

Another arrival caught her attention. “Who’s the smarmy dude with the foot-long?”

His eyes shot to the Adonis lookalike refilling her wine glass, and his dimple creased. “Come again?”

Heat suffused her cheeks. She jerked her thumb toward the door, hoping to deflect his amusement. “The guy with the dark cloak and long braided beard. Wait…is he wearing a freaking mask?”

Rhade’s frown was anything but subtle. “So Helle is up to her old tricks.”

“What do you mean?” 

“This is Lammas, not a Hallows Feast. There are only two reasons I can think of for inviting an incognito to dine along with the other guests.”

“Such as?”

“Either she wants to make us writhe, casting her guests one against the another, or…”

She didn’t like the way he broke off. “Or what, for God’s sake?”

“Or someone is about to get scythed.”

 

I hope you enjoyed the snippet based on the picture about “red dining.” Return to Tuesday Tales.

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance