New Moon and Books of Bast

The Lion Returns by Michael Parkes

Hi Everyone,

The Leo New Moon is upon us!

Time to celebrate heartfelt feelings, creative expression, individuality, artistry and performance, play, fun, romance and kids!

NOTE: This new moon is in a 'critical degree' meaning you can expect things to 'come to a critical point' over the next few weeks. This can manifest in you dropping a toleration, speaking out when need be, or even having a bit of a hissy-fit to clear the air. You may not velvet your claws, but expect things to move forward more evenly once you express.

The Leo Lunar energy increases courage, healthy aggression (no doormats!) and heightens creative powers. You're more apt to be impetuous and quick to act and right now, that's a good thing.
Think: generous, flamboyant, companionable and independence.

The main way to align with this energy is to mimic the Sun—be bold, commanding, animated and Bast, goddess of all felines, elegant, noble, patient.

Don't just be in the spotlight, BE the spotlight!

Here is a quick 'to do' list with actions to spark energy, enthusiasm and fun.

• Play
• Dance
• Laugh
• Sleep in
• Individuate
• Finger paint
• Adopt a kitten
• Get creative
• Enjoy the drama
• Go out to a romantic dinner
• Practice more self-love and nurturing
• Play music, sing, draw, sketch, write, perform

Book lists with amazing cat characters on Goodreads

Suggestions for what to read next?

Support the feline energy in you by reading Spec Fic books featuring sentient cats.

Have a favorite to share? Let me know and I'll add it to my Goodreads List - Books of Bast - or pop over and vote for it yourself.

Happy New Moon in Leo, everyone!

xxxKim

Kim Falconer is a Supernatural Underground author writing paranormal romance, urban fantasy, YA and epic science fantasy novels.

You can find out more about Kim at the 11th House Blog, and on FaceBook and Twitter.

She posts here at the Supernatural Underground on the 16th of every month.

Her latest release is "Blood and Water" in Supernatural Underground: Vampires Gone Wild. 

Summer Blahs? Not a Chance

Win the Mortal Path Series as Ebooks! 

The manic pace has worn off from attending ThrillerFest, the International Thriller Writers conference in New York City. Saw a lot of old friends, made some new ones, learned some crafty things, and gained new contacts! Topped it off with the Awards Banquet, at which I got to sit next to my husband Dennis (the ThrillerFest Registrar) for the first time in years. Usually I've been sitting at a sponsored table or at the ITW table, but this year I got to put my shrimp on his plate (Surf 'n Turf dinner) and steal some of his yummy sliced potatoes with mushroom sauce.

On the second day of the drive home to St. Louis (I don't fly anymore) I found out I'd brought home more than a pile of signed books and good memories - I had the flu. My germs were well traveled by the time I got home and went to bed, leaving poor Dennis with all the unpacking and laundry. What a man! Big round of applause!! I think I slept for days. Then I got bronchitis as a parting gift.

At ThrillerFest, I had a meet and greet with my editor from Open Road Media, which is picking up my PJ Gray series (written as @ShirleyKennett) to convert to ebooks. After a brief effort to do this myself, I discovered that while I like the idea of having my backlist come out as ebooks, (surprise!) I don't care for doing the process myself. I've pulled the two books I did convert (Gray Matter, PJ Gray Book 1, and Burning Rose, a standalone) off the market; I'm letting the pros do what they do best. All ebooks should be available this year. Yoo hoo. :-)

S

I've been wanting to add to the furry tribe for a long while now, and feline #3 has just joined the family. A little boy kitten from the Humane Society, he was a bargain at this time of year due to the June/July bumper crop of kittens. Wish I could bring them all home, but this completes our trio. He's extremely sweet with a loud purring engine in spite of the fact that he'd been named Booger by the shelter staff. I'm so happy to have my little Strider home with me - his shelter name didn't last! Strider is the name of a favorite character in The Lord of the Rings; one of his names, anyway. Our other two cats-in-residence are still adjusting with some hissing and whatever, but no real fireworks. It took me nine shots to get this photo. Most of them were of Strider's tail on its way out of the frame, or a brick-red nose sniffing the camera lens. Cropped out of this picture to the left is my hand holding the little ball of energy down for his first official photo.

Wouldn't you love to be in the next Mortal Path book? Name a character after yourself or a friend and you could have a multi-page, "speaking" role. Enter now!



All this talk must surely lead to something to win, right? Of course!

Win All Three Ebooks!

Leave a comment below on anything that sings to you to enter to win the Mortal Path series from Harper Voyager in ebook form (Kindle, Nook, or Epub) - three books that definitely won't give you the summer blahs! The last day to enter is Friday, August 3rd. Stay cool!

Paranormal? Let's get real

     
The giveaway is over! The winner is JUDY. Please contact me at dakota @ dakota-banks.com to claim your prize of a signed copy of Sacrifice, a bookmark, and a pen.

Thanks to everyone for your thoughtful comments! - Dakota

I attended ThrillerFest, a great conference in NYC, earlier this month. I kinda have to, because I'm a board member of International Thriller Writers, the group that puts it on (shameless plug for ITW!). At the Awards Banquet, I was at a table of other board members and after a couple of glasses of wine the subject turned to the paranormal. Not the kind I write about, but the real stuff like ghosts, prescience, and remote viewing. The guy two seats over asked me if I was a believer. I was pinned. Even though the table was round, I was backed into a corner. I came up with this lame answer: "I'm not a disbeliever."

Can you imagine? A wimpy double negative in austere company? Fortunately, he was ahead of me in glasses of wine and nodded at my answer. Then he launched into a rambling story of a haunted house in England. He was an enthusiastic believer. Sandwiched between the two of us was an author who said, "There's certainly things we don't have explanations for," proving that wine causes authors to turn into grammar dummies. Still, I wish I'd thought of his answer.

 I've hesitated to say what I feel about paranormal events because I didn't want to be tossed into the group wearing aluminum hats so the aliens can't read their thoughts. But this seems like a perfect spot for a chat. Let me set the scene. We're in a snug cabin in the woods, a fresh snowfall outside. it's the middle of the night, and we're sitting around a crackling fire. I'm in a chair near the fireplace, a blanket across my lap and a cup of cocoa in my hand (marshmallows, of course). I'm totally relaxed and ready for anything.

 Join me?

 I believe in ghosts and I've seen several. The night my father died, I was forty miles away. I was awakened at night by a soft, familiar voice calling my name. Sitting up, I saw my father in a nearby chair. He didn't have a solid appearance, but it was easy to tell who he was. We talked for a long time, during which he said some things that were new to me. I later found out that my father had died of a heart attack at the time he first appeared to me. When I asked my mother to confirm the things I'd learned, she said they were true and that they were secrets the two of them had kept from us children. This wasn't my first, or my only, direct experience with ghosts. But it was the most meaningful.


Part of my childhood was spent in a remodeled 19th century funeral parlor. There I heard things at night, bumping, rustling of curtains, footsteps traveling across the floor. In the basement of the house, which used to be the embalming room, I saw the same ghost several times, a well-dressed man sitting on the floor in the corner, overcome with grief. When I approached him, he disappeared. I always imagined that he'd accidentally killed someone, and deeply regretted it.

 I'm a cat lover and have had quite a few kitties in my life, and they tend to live long lives, 20 years or more. When one of them dies, our bond doesn't go away immediately. I'll get a glimpse of the cat walking down the hallway, lying curled up in her favorite spot, even feel the cat in my lap. What tips the experiences from a grief reaction to paranormal is that I can pet the cat in my lap, feel her fur, hear her purring, and once had an over the top experience: my tears were licked from my cheeks. Some may say that cats don't have spirits, but you can tell I'm not among them.


How about another cup of cocoa? I'm getting one for myself.

 I've also experienced times when I knew what was going to happen. It's not a controllable thing, so no lottery winnings for me. I'll be driving home and suddenly see a mental image of a deer crossing the road just ahead, usually accompanied by a stab of nausea. I slow down or stop if the road permits, and when I get to the spot, I see the deer's alert white tail disappearing into the woods.Both the deer and I have made it through safely. Most of the time, I don't have any idea how far into the future I'm seeing, though--it could be years. I haven't said anything scary yet, but these experiences are not all benign. I'll talk about only one event. I was in a bathroom stall at a rest stop on Interstate 70. I was about ready to leave when a spray of blood appeared on the door in front of me, then a couple of bloody hand prints, and a pool of blood formed at my feet.


Clutching that cocoa a bit tightly, aren't you?

 I have never written about or revealed any of this before. It was hard to do here, but once I got started the words just poured out of me. I do not wear an aluminum hat. These are my experiences, I swear, and I've left out some.

 I invite you to tell me your paranormal stories. I'll listen and I won't doubt you--how could I? Think I'm nuts? That's okay too! Maybe you'll meet me halfway and come to think, as my dinner companion did, that "There's certainly things we don't have explanations for."

I'm having a giveaway of a signed copy of my new release in the Mortal Path series, Sacrifice, along with a bookmark and pen. The book comes out August 31st, so I won't be able to mail the winner a copy until that time. Just leave a comment. The contest runs until midnight July 31st, and I'll mail internationally. The winner will be listed at the top of this post after the deadline, so if you enter, please come back to check if you've won.

What Would You Do...?

I swear that I had a blog topic in mind that had more to do with things like reading, writing, romance, and other such pertinent readbytes, but then this happened. And I just couldn't write about anything else.

So instead of blogging about my wordcount (currently: 0—but I'm ahead of schedule, and don'tjudgeme) or about my eventual debut novel release (Blood of the Wicked, just in case you were, you know, curious), or about the various ways I like my heroes (much like I like my coffee: stuffed into a sack and slung over the back of a donkey by Juan Valdez). Instead, I'm opening the shutters, beating away the dust bunnies—but not the dustbun, as that would be cruel—and offering you lovely voyeurs a peek into my home.

This is life in the trenches, folks. Real gritty stuff. (Not really, but hey, life can be its own trench, right?)

I dare you to read this, to look at these pictures, and then tell me what you would have done...

Some background.

I hav—ahem, had three cats. From top to bottom, youngest to oldest, we had Lucian (the Princeling), Olivia (Princess Pantaloons), and Kabriel (the Tank).

Let me take a brief detour and describe to you these animals...

Kabriel—easily the largest of the three. Easily larger than two and three put together. The cat weighs about 25 pounds of solid freaking muscle. He's a tomcat all the way (and don't get me started on how adorable he was when he was just a baby ball of white dryer lint).

He's also a scaredy cat. Classic. He's so afraid of life that he spends all day hiding under the bed, and only comes out in the earliest morning to hunker in bed with us, or out in the evening. (At night, he stalks the halls like some predatory beast of prehistoric ages past...)

He's so afraid that when a car door slams out in the parking lot, he growls and flees to the safety of the bed. That's my guard cat.

Olivia—truly the princess of the lot. She's the most catlike of all our cats... well, except for the fact that she plays fetch and stares at the door all day until her man comes home. She's affectionate (when she wants to be) and sweet (when she wants something). Otherwise, hands off, please.

She won't have much to do with me, mind.

Lucian—It's so hard to be a little black cat. This princeling lounges all day, until he's decided that he's had enough and wants attention right bloody now. At which point, he jumps into the nearest lap and hunkers down for an extended stay.

The catch: If one of us is home alone, we're so not worth his time. But the instant someone else comes home, he comes to visit. Apparently, this one needs an audience of at least two to feel appreciated.

Then, we add Juno, our rabbit, and we've a full house. Plenty of furry love to go around, right?

Right?

Apparently not.

The mancandy is, shall we say, a bit of a soft touch. He can't turn away critters in need. We rescued Olivia from a horrendous situation, and picked up the two boys from cages at our vets' office. That said, the very last thing I expected when he got home from work yesterday were the following words...

"Don't be mad at me!"

...Followed closely by, "This is Charlotte."

Um... Excuse me?

I turn around, and there's this little white... thing in the mancandy's arms. I call it a thing because, let's face it, when one is dreading the result of looking too closely at a Tiny White Ball of Cute, one hesitates to name things.

Except he already did.

Apparently, this little girl was being dragged through the mall by several unpleasant kids. I'm not sure of the exact details—all I know is that I took one look into those soulful blue eyes (erm, the mancandy's, not hers), and I knew it was too late for me to decide anything.

She'd stolen his heart.

Well, that part of it that hadn't already been neatly claimed by the other four animals.

Siiiiigh.

What else could I do? I became a Field Marshal. A drill sergeant. With the speed of thought that would make any battle commander proud, I marshaled the troops (i.e. his attention), and laid down a battle plan. First, a bath. Then, a trip to the store for some emergency flea medication for all the animals—this little girl was crawling with them.

Then, a house cleaning session.

"But, but..."

The mancandy's pleas for mercy availed him nothing but my laughter and scorn! Ha ha ha ha! There would be no mercy for the weak of heart!

Well, what I actually mean to say is... No rest for the strong of compassion. We owed it to this little girl to give her a good home, a cleaned home, and one free of any fleas she carried in.

Oh, and her name really isn't Charlotte. She doesn't look like a Charlotte, and while we always name our animals after romance book characters, we couldn't agree on a name that suited. Until the mancandy suggested, "Hey. What about Naomi?"

It stuck. She's a Naomi.

So you tell me: could you have looked into these sweet blue eyes, hearing her purr so happily, watch her as she inched across the carpet to rest her chin trustingly in your palm, and made any other decision?

... I'm such a sucker.

Do you have pets? Can you imagine life without them once they've taken over your heart and home? And what do you name them? (Worth pointing out: Xaphod Beeblebrox was jokingly offered as a name, but I was afraid that she'd grow a second head just to spite us if we did...)

Oh, dear. Four cats and a rabbit? I'm her... I'm the Crazy Cat Lady.

Is this where I put on a funny hat and start laughing maniacally?