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Posted by Moira on Jan 24, 2012 in
Life,
Writing When I was little, I like so many others, dreamed of being many things. It started with wanting to be a princess, then the dream changed and was made of a little more realistic stuff. I wanted to be an artist. As in let me draw you a picture. Maybe a painter or graphic artist. I also wanted to be a marine biologist.
I didn't achieve those dreams. Well not entirely. I'm not a marine biologist, though my fascination with the ocean and marine life is still alive and well. I do consider myself an artist though. Instead painting on canvas with oils and skilled brush strokes, I create art by painting a picture with words. If I do it well enough, you as the reader will feel as though the story comes alive for you. Like you are actually right there with the characters every step of their journey.
I consider this dream to be an everlasting work in progress. Each time I sit down and open my manuscript, it is an opportunity to grow and perfect my piece of art. I want to learn from the authors I admire and aspire to be like. My critique partners each serve as my teachers (though they may not realize it). They share their strengths through their feedback, they encourage me to see the beauty in what I've created, and most importantly… they keep me positive, grounded, and somewhat focused on the larger picture. And of course my own personal tidbit of advice… listen and don't be afraid to pursue opportunities that fall into your lap.
Once you decide on that dream, the one you can't live without achieving, you want to immerse yourself in the pursuit of it. You want to surround yourself with people who can help you along your journey. So do tell, what do you want to be when you grow up and what little tips and tricks do you have to share about your journey to success?
Moira spends her daytime hours as a typical 9-5 slave chasing the almighty dollar, and raising twin zombie sons. During her evening hours, she can often be found steeped in homework, watching an episode of the Walking Dead, or penning her latest novel. She is an author of urban fantasy with a romance kicker, a woman with a penchant for men in kilts, lover of shoes, and connoisseur of Guinness! In other words...Moira is a complete mess.
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Tags: Dreams, Life, Moira Keith, Writing
Posted by Moira on Jan 6, 2012 in
Goals,
Writing Yes I'm bucking the tradition! There will be no resolutions made for Moira this year. Not a single one. Nada. Zilch. Zero. That's it, I'm putting my foot down.
Every year people rush to make their resolutions. I resolve to get in shape, to lose weight, to finish that manuscript from 1988 about the robots from outer space who come to Earth because of Boy George and Cindy Lauper.
You know what happens to about 98.7% (a figure I made up just for this post) of those resolutions? They get forgotten. The pressure becomes to much and they barely make it past the first month. We forget about them.
No longer will this be the case for this zombie slaying, faerie loving, kilt obsessed author. Oh no. Starting with the year 2012, this will now become the time that I set goals. Small or big it matters little. I know I can hear you back there. "But Moira aren't goals the same thing as resolutions?"
To that I say… bah! The word resolution seems to be steeped in a cloak of negativity. They seem destined for failure. In all actuality, the word just seems to damn big. Perhaps resolution needs to go on a diet?
Okay I'm off my soapbox. My goals for the year have been set. They aren't huge. They are attainable…for the most part. Some might need a little push from cupid, others might need the every present and helpful support of my PC Girls to see come to fruition, but all in all they are goals I can live with. Goals that can be reached. So who's with me? Who is bucking the Resolution tradition and climbing on the back of the Goal Bandwagon with me? Bethanne's got the coffee back here. Silke brought-well if you want to know what everyone brought I guess you will have to just climb aboard and share!
Moira spends her daytime hours as a typical 9-5 slave chasing the almighty dollar, and raising twin zombie sons. During her evening hours, she can often be found steeped in homework, watching an episode of the Walking Dead, or penning her latest novel. She is an author of urban fantasy with a romance kicker, a woman with a penchant for men in kilts, lover of shoes, and connoisseur of Guinness! In other words...Moira is a complete mess.
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Tags: goals, Moira Keith, New Year, Resolutions
Posted by Moira on Dec 24, 2011 in
Christmas,
Holidays,
Writing SECRET SANTA
By
Moira Keith
“Crap!” Dakota rolled over and hit the alarm. Calming Bridezilla hadn’t gone well last night. Watching her best friend turn from cool as a cucumber, into a hysterical harpy, had shot her nerves. She was convinced that getting married around a major holiday was suicidal. Hell, it had taken half a bottle of Merlot just to help her fall asleep. 
A quick shower, conservative up do, a dusting of light make-up, and she was out the door in record time. Perhaps the day wouldn’t be so bad. She approached the candy apple red Mustang and groaned when she saw the flat tire. “For Pete’s sake!”
This was not happening. Today of all days.
“Ms Schaeffer?” A security guard climbed out of the patrol cart.
“Saw the flat tire while making my rounds. Thought you might need some help.”
After a brief exchange, the tire was changed and she was on her way. The coffee shop just around the corner from her work knew exactly what she liked and she drove through for her vanilla soy latte. She purred as the warm liquid slid down her throat. Perhaps her Secret Santa left her a little something in her office. That would put a much needed smile on her face, because the way her day was going, she’d be lucky to survive the rehearsal.
She pulled into the parking garage under Ulterior Motives Marketing. Climbing out of her car, she spotted Ethan Nash, the guy she secretly longed for. Dakota balanced the coffee in her hand along with her briefcase and, as she closed the car door, spilled the hot liquid all over her. “Damn it!”
“Everything okay?” Ethan rushed over and took the briefcase from her.
“No. Just a crappy day that seems determined to not get any better.” She looked in the window at the driver’s seat. “Fantastic. I locked my keys in the car.”
“Ah, chin up.” He pulled out his phone and called a car service. “No it’s not my car. I was a passenger in the vehicle. Yes, carpooling is a good thing. Thanks.”
Ethan dropped the phone into the pocket of his black pressed slacks. “Someone will be here in thirty minutes. They’ll call when they get closer.”
“Thanks.” She took back her things and they walked in to the office building.
“So why the rough morning?”
“Overslept.”
“Too much late night television huh?” He smiled and she felt her cheeks flush.
“More like too much Bridezilla.” She turned away from him. “Thanks for the help.”
“No problem.”
When lunch rolled around, her day seemed to be on the upswing. Car keys were back in her purse. Work was caught up. Boss wasn’t upset over the tardiness.
Still, she was disappointed there’d been no package from her Secret Santa. Maybe the mystery person was having a rough day as well.
The streets were wet and crowded. The hustle and bustle of holiday shopping was at a fever pitch. The clock was ticking down and people were feeling the pressure. She'd already gotten several calls from her mom, upset Dakota wouldn’t be home for Christmas. The chance she’d catch a flight home after the wedding was slim to none. Christmas! What a dreadful time to be maid of honor. No time for the normal Christmas traditions or truly feeling the magic that surrounds the holidays. Oh well, she thought as she stepped up to the corner and waited for the light to change. A truck sped up just as the light turned red and doused her in muddy water.
She sank onto the bench behind her and buried her face in her hands. Could she crawl back in bed and start all over again? Or at least sleep through until her best friend’s wedding had passed? As if she needed any help killing off her hopes for reciprocating attraction, Ethan’s cologne permeated the air around her. Now? How is it he found her now? Mud girl chic was not the fashion statement she wanted to make to anyone, let alone him.
“Here. You look like you could use this.”
A cup of warm, lovely, rich, energizing coffee slid into her view. She took it, still staring down into her lap.
“So the bad day continues huh?”
“Understatement of the year.” She glanced at him.
“Dakota, you look like hell.”
“Thanks. You really know how to cheer a girl up.”
“Can’t show my sensitive side in public. I’d have to turn my man card in.” Ethan chuckled, sat next to her and leaned back against the bench. “You could make this look work. It is casual Friday after all.”
That made her smile. His sense of humor might have been slightly warped, but his timing was always impeccable.
“You’re giving me far more fashion credit than I deserve. My idea of casual Friday is jeans, a tank top, and flip flops. Not exactly company dress code.”
“Now, the Dakota I know would find a way to make do.” He winked and his baby blues twinkled with a mischievous glint. This man was trouble…at least where she was concerned. “See you later, Dakota Schaeffer.”
Dakota watched him walk towards the café and disappear through the doors. Oh if only she had a fairy godmother who felt generous around Christmas time. Her phone buzzed in her purse and she pulled it out and glanced at the display. A text flashed across the screen.
Better get moving. Only thirty minutes left for your lunch break.
He was right. Not a lot of time, but enough. With time and options limited, she went to her car.
Ethan watched her through the café window, feeling very much like a perverse voyeur. He needed her to leave the bench. If she didn’t then there was no way he could get into the used bookstore on the other corner without her seeing him. Two years of friendship and conversations, he was finally ready to make his move. Only it couldn’t be small. One thing he’d learned about her—she needed a little variation from the norm.
Too bad he didn’t get to the bookstore before it closed last night. Otherwise this morning might have looked up a little for her. If even just for an hour or two. He sent off the text message and waited. Dakota got up from the bench and hurried off. Perfect. He rushed across the street and had the package wrapped and ready for delivery.
“Whatcha got there?” Dave, a fellow advertising executive, caught up to him at the main entrance to the office building.
“Last minute Christmas shopping.”
“For the girlfriend? I thought you guys broke up.”
Dave was worse than a girl. Knew as much of the office gossip as any of the women in the company ranks.
“We did. This is for a friend who needs a little cheering up.”
“Cool. You sure you want to go to that wedding thing tonight? Boys and I are going to hit the clubs pretty hard tonight.” Dave started dancing, though it looked more like a seizure.
“No way. My buddy would kill me if I didn’t show.”
“Your loss man.”
Ethan breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the man leave. A glance around the lobby confirmed there were no witnesses, and he dropped the wrapped package into the interoffice mail before heading up to his office.
“Dakota, we got another one here. Little later than usual though.” Kate, the company mail clerk, set the package on her desk.
“Thanks.” Dakota admired the wrapping, her mood improving with the promise of what hidden treasure lay within the box.
“I’m dying to know who it’s from. Will you share all the details when you find out?”
“Not likely.” She couldn’t take her eyes off the reflective embossed red paper.
“You are no fun.”
“Just don’t want to feed the gossip hounds. You ladies do very well without help.” Dakota dropped her purse into the bottom drawer of her desk and slid the package to the side. There would be no unveiling in front of Kate.
“Speaking of gossip, what’s with your clothes?”
“The outfit is purely the result of bad luck.” Without glancing at the woman, she flipped the monitor back on and typed in her password.
“Whatever the reason, you look great.”
“Thanks.”
“Well, I hope Secret Santa turns out to be worthwhile. Lots of ladies are quite envious of the special gifts you’ve been getting.” There was a slight note of jealousy in her voice.
“Merry Christmas Kate.” Dakota said, trying to casually dismiss the woman, though the sentiment was heartfelt.
“Merry Christmas. See you when you get back from vacation.”
The woman left, closing the door behind her. Dakota slid the package back to the center of her desk. The red paper reflected the light from her computer, casting a pretty stream of patterns across the dark wood surface it sat on. The clue wasn’t in the wrapping though and she slowly slid the bow off and lifted the lid of the box. Nestled in black tissue paper was a worn leather bound copy of the works of Edgar Allen Poe. Who could possibly know she liked Poe? She glanced up, looking through the glass window to see if anyone was watching her—hoping that maybe her Secret Santa would be waiting to see her reaction with anticipation. No one seemed too concerned with her. She returned her attention to the book and carefully opened the cover. A typed note was inside.
Tonight, at O’Shaugnessy’s Tavern, five p.m. if you want to find out who I am.
Right before the rehearsal and dinner. It would be close, but the tavern was just down the street from the restaurant. She could make it work. Her phone rang and she glanced at the caller I.D. She sighed. The phone kept ringing and she picked it up. “What now? Cake emergency, dress, or flowers?”
“More of an M.I.A. best man.”
“What do you want me to do about it Alex?”
“Find him for me. Before the rehearsal. If he’s not there, Sam’s going to go ballistic.”
Her best friend sounded on edge. “I don’t even know what he looks like. How am I supposed to find him Alex?”
“I don’t know. He’s probably holed up in a damn pub somewhere.”
“Deep breaths. Everything’s worked out so far.”
“You’re right. Don’t be late okay?”
“Not on your life.”
Ethan sat in the bar, twisting a paper napkin between his fingers. He dropped it on the table, staring down at the bits of white fluff he’d crumbled onto the surface. She might not show. After all, the rehearsal dinner was tonight and he could make the reveal there, but it wasn’t the right place to do such things. Tonight was about Sam and Alex, this moment though…this brief hour before dinner was all his.
He saw her enter, still in the same cocktail dress she’d put on after the mud fiasco. The blotchy patches on her chest revealed how nervous she was. She strolled over to the bar and talked to the bartender for a moment. The man smiled at her, handed her a Guinness and a note. She read it then turned around with the beer in hand, stopping for just a moment when she saw him. Puzzlement settled over her, but she came and slid into the empty seat across from him.
“Hey Ethan, what are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing. Don’t you have a rehearsal dinner to go to?”
“Yes, but…” She leaned back in the chair and glanced around the bar.
“But what?”
The small clutch she’d set on the table began to vibrate and she slid her phone out of it. “Sorry could be another wedding emergency.”
“Price you pay for being the maid of honor huh?”
Dakota stared down at the display, then back up at the man sitting across from her, then at the display again.
I never pegged you as a fan of Poe, hope you liked it. Ethan
“What?” Her mind raced with a million questions and that was the best she could say? “I mean… you are the Secret Santa?”
“Disappointed?” He asked as he slid out of his chair.
“No. I’m feeling a lot of things right now; disappointed isn’t one of them.”
“Good to know.” He flashed that wicked smile at her and she felt a million butterflies take flight in her stomach. “Well, you can tell Alex you’ve found the best man and we are heading towards the rehearsal. After which, you will agree to spend the rest of Christmas with me.”
“Now why would I do that?” she asked.
“Because after years of Christmases filled with nothing special, I’d really like to spend this one with the person who’s become my best friend over the last two years—the woman who manages to creep into my thoughts when I least expect it.”
She stood and slid her hand into his outstretched one. “Guess there’s still a little Christmas magic to be had after all.”
Moira spends her daytime hours as a typical 9-5 slave chasing the almighty dollar, and raising twin zombie sons. During her evening hours, she can often be found steeped in homework, watching an episode of the Walking Dead, or penning her latest novel. She is an author of urban fantasy with a romance kicker, a woman with a penchant for men in kilts, lover of shoes, and connoisseur of Guinness! In other words...Moira is a complete mess.
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Tags: 12 Days of Christmas Stories on PC, Moira Keith
Posted by Moira on Dec 14, 2011 in
Christmas,
Holidays,
Writing Frost
Of all the assignments I could’ve been given, this was the worst. It felt like a demotion. Had I pissed off the jolly old man? Don’t know how I would have done it, but this felt like a shit detail. I leaned against the garland-wrapped railing and stared down into the mock winter wonderland, complete with fake Santa, in the pavilion below. It all seemed out of place in the sweltering heat of…wherever the hell I’d been dropped. Beam me up Scotty, I’d like to get the elf outta here. 
I scanned the crowd, searching for my mark. It didn’t surprise me that he stood near the mechanical reindeer and Santa’s workshop. Even on the run, we still longed for familiarity. To not be the freak in the midst of humans. I didn’t move in right away, I wanted to admire the view I’d denied myself for the past year. Gorgeous, snow-white hair trailed down his back, metallic streaks of silver visible throughout, like tinsel had been woven through it. There was no mistaking Jack Frost—the man I’d avoided since the eggnog and unwrapping incident. So much beautifully lean and muscled naked elf, my cheeks heated at the memory.
Shoving the image from my mind was difficult, but I had a job to do. I weaved my way through the hordes of holiday shoppers and garish elf wood cutouts until Santa’s throne was in sight. No Jack.
“Crap!” How could I lose him so fast?
“Why are you here, Holly?”
I spun around and faced the man who’d had a starring role in my dreams for the last three hundred and sixty five days.
“You know why I’m here, Jack.” I couldn’t meet his gaze. Didn’t want to risk being swept away in those icy blue eyes that swirled and darkened when angry or lost in the throes of passion. I’d seen both.
“No, I don’t.” His voice held a note of hope when he continued. “Tell me.”
“On the job.” Something kept me from coming out and admitting he was my target.
“I won’t keep you then.” Disappointment and bitterness lined his words and took me by surprise.
“What is going on with you?”
“Nothing. Must be a real step down from your usual detail. Tell Santa I’m fine, but I’m not ready to come back.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his crisp grey slacks and started past me.
I couldn’t let him go. Allowing him to walk away would mean I failed. No matter what the history was between us, I couldn’t let that happen. Without thinking, I grabbed his arm, leaned in close enough to smell the scent of cool pine-laced breezes wafting off his skin, and whispered, “I don’t want you to go.”
He turned his head slightly, his lips brushing against my cheek as he spoke. “Why?”
The slight contact wreaked havoc on my nerves and I began to tremble. He was so close. All I’d have to do is reach out and take him. But I couldn’t.
“I…wrapping.” My voice sounded far off and distant. Like I was having an out-of-body experience. Around Jack, I always wanted to be present in body, at the very least. I started to hyperventilate.
“Oh.” A small, swirling pattern of snowflakes started to take form in the depths of his eyes. “Walk with me.”
He placed his hand at the small of my back, briefly brushing my handcuffs as he did so. “You were going to handcuff me?”
“Last resort only.”
“Really?” He pulled on my over shirt to reveal my gun. “And this is purely an accessory?”
“Want me to shoot you?”
“Not if it’s filled with one of Doc’s tranqs. Wouldn’t want you to take advantage of me.” He chuckled and we started walking through the crowd.
“It’s no spiked eggnog.”
“Still equally as powerful.” With a wink, he maneuvered me into a corner. I didn’t like feeling boxed in, my back against a wall. It did give me a good view of the area though, allowing me to plan my escape route if I should need one.
With his hands splayed on the wall on either side of me, Jack rested his forehead against mine. “Why did you leave that morning?”
Of all the questions he could have asked me in that moment, that one caught me off guard. “It was a drunken night of wild abandon—”
“And wrapping paper,” he interjected.
“Yes and while it was fun, it was one night. It didn’t mean anything.” Or so I’d been trying desperately to convince myself.
“Didn’t stick around long enough to find out, did you?” He leaned in and pressed his lips gently to mine. It was only a sample of what I’d experienced that night, but oh, how good and familiar he tasted. Kissing Jack was like drinking a cup of peppermint cocoa in front of a warm fire. When he started to pull away, I wasn’t ready to lose the intimate contact and I locked my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.
When we finally separated, we both were a little breathless and I leaned back against the wall to try and steady myself.
Jack quirked an eyebrow. “Meant nothing, huh?”
“Well, perhaps it meant a little.” Handcuffs—my handcuffs—snapped around my wrists. “What on earth are you doing?”
“You want to know a secret?”
“Can you tell me on the way home? I have to deliver Jack Frost to Santa’s doorstep on time. You wouldn’t want me to fail would you? Allow me to have an incomplete mission?” I batted my eyelashes at him.
“No. I tell you now or I don’t tell you at all.”
Stubborn man. I could ring his neck. “Tell me your deepest, darkest secrets, Jack.”
“In all the centuries I’ve been around, I’ve never asked Santa for anything. That is— until now.”
Butterflies beat wildly in my stomach and my throat was so dry I could barely even swallow. “What did you ask for?”
“First tell me what you think of your assignment.”
“You’re joking, right?”
He shook his head. “Not at all.”
“No offense, but being dropped in lands unknown and dealing with heat because you refuse to do your job is hardly my idea of a choice gig. And why are you laughing?” Suddenly, I started feeling like this was all a set up. “You didn’t really leave Santa a note saying you were going on strike?”
“I did leave him a note, but nowhere did I mention abandoning my duties for the season.”
I looked around the shopping area. Taking in more than the winterscape that had been set up for Santa photos. Palm trees lined the outside of the walkways; in the distance the sounds of the surf were faint but detectable. Add to that, Jack’s lack of surprise to see me there and—“This was a set up!”
“Let’s just say I must have been VERY good this year.” He leaned in and kissed me briefly. “Because I got exactly what was on my Christmas list.”
Moira spends her daytime hours as a typical 9-5 slave chasing the almighty dollar, and raising twin zombie sons. During her evening hours, she can often be found steeped in homework, watching an episode of the Walking Dead, or penning her latest novel. She is an author of urban fantasy with a romance kicker, a woman with a penchant for men in kilts, lover of shoes, and connoisseur of Guinness! In other words...Moira is a complete mess.
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Tags: 12 Days of Christmas Stories on PC, Christmas
Posted by Moira on Jan 19, 2011 in
Books,
Movies WordPress ate my blog! Okay trying this again. I wanted to blog quickly, about books that were turned into movies. This will be short and sweet, as I just don’t have it in me to go all out again. Not when I should be sleeping and have to be up in four hours for work. So what are some books turned movie that rank among my favorites?
Interview With a Vampire. What’s not to love. Hot vampires. Great story line. Did I mention the hot vampires? Seriously, the moment Christian Slater sat down to interview Brad Pitt..I was hooked.
Gone With the Wind. Rhett Butler was really a great hero. Best line ever in my opinion was this one. ” No, I don’t think I will kiss you, although you need kissing, badly. That’s what’s wrong with you. You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.”
Confessions of a Shopaholic. Well honestly, the reason I loved this movie so much was because of the heroine. I can totally relate. Well minus the great fashion sense and hot guy… but debt and addiction to shopping most definitely.
The Lord of the Rings. Classic books for sure, but come on ladies… I have one word for you all. Aragorn. Swoon. Visually stunning (the movies in general not just Viggo Mortensen), lots of action, a great love story, how can you go wrong.
I could go on all night, but will grant you a reprieve. The floor is now yours. What is your favorite book to movie?
Moira spends her daytime hours as a typical 9-5 slave chasing the almighty dollar, and raising twin zombie sons. During her evening hours, she can often be found steeped in homework, watching an episode of the Walking Dead, or penning her latest novel. She is an author of urban fantasy with a romance kicker, a woman with a penchant for men in kilts, lover of shoes, and connoisseur of Guinness! In other words...Moira is a complete mess.
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