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Daydreaming: August 2012

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Celebrating A Milestone Day!

Dearest friends,
Thank you so much for all of your support. Today I'm celebrating a milestone.  My first novel, ISLAND OF SECRETS, has made it an entire year on three of Amazon's Bestsellers Lists, and I couldn't be more excited. You the readers have made it possible, because you have read, enjoyed and shared it with others. What an honor for any author. 

COUNTERFEIT KISSES has a beautiful cover, and both books will soon be available for print. Many thanks to all of you who have been waiting with anticipation for them to be released in paperback. I can't wait to get my hands on copies.

I have three new projects that I'm working on two fiction and one non-fiction one. This is a little sneak peak from the Prologue of SOCIETY OF BLOOD: THE IMMORTALS:


Society of Blood: The Immortals by Tammie Clarke Gibbs Copyright 2012 ( PRE-EDIT)

Already the moon spilled its glow over the thick mountain landscape casting shadows of all shapes and sizes. Kedar lifted his eyes to the glowing crescent that punctuated the blackness, and he knew this night was different.
In the distance, there was an angry rumble then a flash of light danced across the sky. It reminded him of day's long past and of his homeland. It had been a long time since he’d thought of his country. It was easier to embrace the present, and the life that the ancients had blessed him with.

The Cherokee called the ancients Nunneli or Immortals.

Apart from the ancients, he had become one of their legends because he was different. They spoke of him in whispers on cold winter nights and long summer days, but he was merely a vision to most.

He watched from the point atop Witch Mountain most times hidden from their view. The tribe below referred to the place where he stood as "lookout." They could not know how befitting the name.

On most occasions, he hid from them using techniques taught to him by the Ancients. The adults were easy, but sometimes it brought him pleasure when he allowed the lads to see. They would rush back to the village and tell of him in grandiose detail outlining every cut of his muscular form and strand of raven hair and then their parents would share tales from a time long ago when they too were children running wild and free among the trees lost in their imaginations.

Again, Kedar turned his attention to the village. Two small boys danced around a small fire to the beat of the tom-tom.

Kedar closed his eyes and became one with the night. He held up his hands to the heavens, took a deep breath and listened as their sounds floated up like music.

The ancients had their religion, but he knew that God had been with him the night when these unusual people found him bleeding and near death.

Kedar dropped to his knees and said a silent prayer. He knew the ancients disapproved of such displays, but his time of prayer no matter how brief brought him great comfort in this unfamiliar land.

Then he heard her, her voice like the caress of a soft feather against his cheek, and he opened his eyes. It had been a long time since he had heard a woman’s voice other than Aliana’s. She was their queen. The immortals called her mother, and to him, she had been gracious.

Kedar looked up. Her complexion was like honey, her lips red like the petals of a rose and her hair as raven-black as his. She was Cherokee, but he’d never seen her before. The women weren’t allowed near the boundary of rock that stood between the ancients and the mortals. Aliana had explained to him that the women were a temptation. He was never to seek them out, and he hadn’t, but now this one was standing so close to him that if he extended his arm, he would touch her.

Neither spoke.

Kedar released the breath he’d been holding since he’d looked up and saw her. The slight rush of air that sounded against the night startled her, and she took several steps back; her hands held up palms toward him as if to ward him off.

He wondered if he should speak, but didn’t know what to say. The Nunneli had taught him some of the Cherokee language, but he wasn’t sure she would be able to understand him. Instead, he bowed again. It was the only gesture he could think of that would let her know that he meant her no harm and when he looked up again she was gone.


I'd love to hear what you think of it.
Tammie