October 22, 2018

TRICK OR TREAT

Enter If You Dare...


I’m working on something a bit different. Instead of a romantic suspense, I’m working on a thriller with romantic elements.

I wrote this short prologue, with a serial killer in mind for this thriller. I’m going to use it as bonus content at the back of the book, once I get it written.  I’m hoping to have it completed by the end of 2019.


I hope you enjoy my short story.


Birth of a Serial Killer
By Cheryl Yeko

Chicago Fairgrounds
Entering the gates to the fair, I keep my head down, pretending not to hear my father and grandfather talk about me. Today is my ninth birthday and this trip was planned before the incident. Pain cracks my chest open as images from that day twist together in my mind like a living thing.
“It’s been six months,” my father says gruffly, “it’s time he got over it.”
My grandfather gives my shoulder a little shove. “Your dad’s right. Quit moping and act like a man.”
I suck in a harsh breath of control as hate pours through my bloodstream. If they didn’t spend all their time together at the bars, my mother might still be alive. Not that I like my father home either, as he only uses his fist on us.
Now he just uses it on me.
Memories of hiding under the bed taunt me. Like a weakling, I cowered when that man broke into our home and made my mother cry. Kicking at a pebble, I curl one hand into a fist. My heart beats so fast I’m surprised it doesn’t leap from my chest.
‘Whimp,’ the voice in my head screeches.
I witnessed everything in the mirror against the opposite
wall as he’d hurt her. I wanted to close my eyes, but somehow they remained frozen open. Wanted to cover my ears to block out the sounds of her tears, but I was unable to lift my arms to my head.
Instead, I watched as he sliced her up with his knife until she stopped screaming. I remained under the bed after he left, staring at my mother’s empty gaze in the mirror as blood soaked the floor around me.
‘You should have done something,’ the voice says bitterly. ‘Because of you, she’s dead.’
‘No!’ I bite back in my thoughts, shooting a glare behind me at my dad. ‘If he wasn’t such a drunk, he could have saved her.’
Stuffing my hand into my pants pocket, I feel for my father’s fishing knife. Rage coils inside me as I finger the hard steel.
I want to take that knife and stab him, over and over again, the same way that man stabbed my mother. My hand tightens on the knife as I visualize doing just that, then doing the same to my grandfather.
I want to make them scream. Make them bleed . . .
As my fury rises, the voice gets louder, more insistent. I gulp back the need to lash out, hurt someone until the voice shuts up. Needing distance from my father, I dart into the crowd and hurry away. Of course they don’t even notice, too busy drinking their beers and watching women.
Entering the Midway, the carnival barkers try to entice me over to play games.

Their strident voices mix with the deafening one in my head until it all jumbles together into a massive roar of sound, and my brain feels like it’s going to explode.
I spot the haunted house exhibit, and when the ticket taker is distracted by a large group of people, I slip inside.
I’ve always loved haunted houses, drawn to the images of blood and gore.
The same way I love to burn bugs on a stick in
the firepit in the backyard, or help my father bash in the head that litter of kittens we didn’t want.
‘You liked watching that man carve up your mother,’ the voice accuses.
I refuse to listen, shaking my head in denial.
Catching sight of a decaying woman, a little rush tickles my stomach and the voice whispers, as if sharing a secret with me, ‘Did too.’ 

“No!” I push my way through the heavy flaps hanging in the doorway and enter the next room as a small part of me acknowledges the terrible truth. Knowing I’d watched each stroke of that man’s blade in fascination, even as my heart broke that it was my mother being hurt. She’d been the only one to understand when I did the things my father called ‘sick and twisted.’
She knew it wasn’t my fault. 
Moving through another doorway, the sight of a headless man on the floor ramps up my excitement.
Room after room, the horrific images of murder and death calm me, caught up by the beauty of it all.
The wonderful artistry of sound and color coming alive in my mind.

The voice grows louder, and I find myself offering encouragement now, instead of fighting it.
‘Cut. Slash. Kill,’ it intones as our thoughts mesh together, until we are one.
I am the voice, and the voice is me as I withdraw the fishing knife from my pocket and open it. In my mind, I watch myself stab my father as flesh splits open and blood rises to the surface, glistening bright red before flowing down his body in graceful lines, like a trickling stream.
When I enter the next room, a zombie lumbers from a darkened corner.
Smiling, I sink the knife deep in his stomach and slash down, blood splattering across my face in warm streams. The sound of his high-pitched scream slides across my nerves like a soft breeze as the voice in my head offers praise . . . 

October 9, 2018

One more day until CiCi Cordelia’s Book Release and Facebook Party for THE DANCE HALL WIFE (Brides of Little Creede Book 2). Come join the fun!!!  October 10th – 6:30 - 8:30 p.m. CT. https://www.facebook.com/HeartfeltRomance/ Pre-order your copy today!  https://ecs.page.link/ubYU

October 6, 2018




"Cici Cordelia proves that two are better than one. This BFF writing duo -- composed of authors Char Chaffin and Cheryl Yeko -- make a totally swoony splash in this historical western.. . . ." India Caedmon, RT Book Reviews
"The Substitute Wife" has a unique, enthralling storyline .. . Readers who enjoy historical westerns with a slow-burnromance will love this book!" MajankaVerstraete, InD'TaleMagazine
Night Owl Romance:"...The author did a very good job bringing me into the world of cutthroats, ranchers, bordellos and the hard life it is when living out in the middle of nowhere."

Don't Miss Book Two, The Dance Hall Wife: Available Now! www.amazon.com/Dance-Hall-Brides-Little-Creede-ebook/dp/B07FKP7L52

CAT . . .

Cat Purdue has come a long way from the days when her father used her as partial payment for a gambling debt to a ruthless man. Reacquiring the saloon Father had lost, and turning it into a successful restaurant, is only the beginning of her drive for success. 

FRANK . . .

Unable to reconcile the new, sophisticated Catherine Purdue from the saloon girl he once dallied with and foolishly spurned, Frank Carter finds himself blocking his growing attraction with sharp words and sarcasm. But when the Carters’ old nemesis escapes prison and comes back to Little Creede for vengeance, Frank’s only thought is to protect Cat, as well as his family.

A PAIR OF HEARTS . . . 

Determined to lead separate lives yet bound together by danger and their growing desire, Frank and Cat will leave their mark in the new state of Colorado.

September 25, 2018

June 21, 2018





CiCi Cordelia is the pen name for the writing team of me and my BFF Char Chaffin, and we are building a Street Team. 

Interested in joining the fun? CiCi would love to have you on board! 

Hop over to CiCi's Cohorts and check us out... 

 https://www.facebook.com/groups/260087758065537/



May 15, 2018

RODEO KING by CiCi Cordelia FREE May 14-16 only! If you love westerns be sure to check out The Substitute Wife, Book 1 of Brides of Little Creede. Amazon: https://pjj52.app.goo.gl/TFYE7bn6K5d6EGiA3 ~Always FREE on Kindle Unlimited~

May 14, 2018

Don't Miss This FREE Kindle Countdown Deal!



Amazon Buy Link: www.amazon.com/Rodeo-King-Dustin-Lovers-Book-ebook/dp/B0115767S0

Enjoy This Excerpt:

As Caleb walked down the mostly deserted streets, everyone inside drinking, having dinner, or shopping, with a few stragglers wandering about, he glanced at his watch. Six-thirty. There’d be time to catch a bite and a beer before grabbing a room. He might look up Mason. Word was his old buddy still lived here, and had the veterinary clinic he’d always dreamed of.
Good for him.
A tight knot curled in Caleb’s gut. He should have kept in contact with Mason, but he’d let their friendship fall away after sleeping with the man’s sister. He raked his fingers through his hair and blew out a strained breath.
When did I become such a bastard? But he knew. It was the moment he’d slipped from Rosemary’s bed and hightailed it out of town.
Now in serious need of a drink, Caleb hoofed it down the street toward the local brewpub. It was a warm, muggy evening and his shirt stuck to his back as he approached the pub. He licked his dry lips, eager to taste the cold brew. As he headed up the sidewalk, a door flew open a few buildings from the pub, and a man stepped out, calling his name.
Caleb turned slightly and recognized Mason standing just outside the door under a sign lettered with ‘Mason’s Veterinary Service.’
He set his suitcase down again. “Damn, Carmichael,” he said, grinning, “how the hell are you, man?”
Mason’s expression darkened ominously and Caleb lost his smile.
Well, I guess that answers that question.
When Mason came toward him with murder in the tense lines of his body, Caleb didn’t even try to defend himself as the man brought his fist back and swung at him. He deserved the beat-down he was about to take. It wasn’t a glancing blow and pain radiated through his jaw as he fell onto his ass. His Stetson flew off his head and landed on the sidewalk.
He stared up at his former friend as he fingered his jaw, rotating it to see if it was broken. It wasn’t. Not yet, anyway. “Feel better?”
Mason stormed toward him, reaching down to grip the front of his shirt, and jerked him to his feet. The movement sent fire shooting through Caleb’s leg and he gritted his teeth against the pain.
“Not by a long shot, you son of a bitch.” Mason reared back to punch him again.
Caleb narrowed his eyes, but didn’t fight back, although anger bent the edges of his control. He’d let Mason get in a few more punches before he defended himself. It was the least he could do after sleeping with his pal’s baby sister.
But Caleb’s patience only went so far . . .
“Mason. Stop!” The feminine voice shot across the semi-darkness and both men froze.
Mason glared at him. “You have no goddamn idea what you did, do you, asshole?”
Caleb couldn’t help it as images of making love to Rosemary flooded his mind. He chuckled. “I’ve got a pretty good idea.”
Yep. He really did deserve the next punch Mason threw his way, reconnecting with his aching jaw and sending him back a few feet, though he managed to remain standing. The force of the blow made him bite hard on the inside of his cheek.
“Mason, no!” Rosemary rushed toward them.
A different woman’s voice called from the same direction. “Hit him harder next time, Mason.”
Caleb spat blood. “Are we done?”
“Not even close,” Mason growled.
Rosemary grabbed her brother’s arm and tugged. “Mason, don’t, damn it.”
Caleb shifted his gaze to Rosemary, and every muscle in his body seized along with his breath, as she flipped her long, wavy hair over one shoulder. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. He wanted to bury his hands in those thick red locks and take her sweet mouth in a kiss. Her heart-shaped face held a healthy freshness, her lips plump and rosy, but her figure now fully a woman’s, generously curved in all the right places.
His body responded to her lush beauty, just like it always had, and he was thankful for the dim light as he shifted slightly to relieve the pressure under his button fly.
Another woman he recognized from high school had come up behind her, but he couldn’t recall her name. A little boy held her hand, his small frame tucked against her leg.
Regret filled him. They were fighting in front of a kid. He turned back to Rosemary, ignoring her brother completely. “Hi,” he said softly, his heart pounding fast.
Her mouth tightened. She didn’t act happy to see him, and rather than return his greeting, she glanced up at her brother. “Let’s just go.”
Go? Hell, no! Caleb didn’t want her to leave, he just wanted to stare at her a little longer. She was like candy to his soul and he was starving for her. By the hard expression on her face, she didn’t want a damn thing to do with him.
And who could blame her? What had he been thinking, walking away from this woman?
Mason’s posture relaxed as he glanced over to the woman and little boy. His kid? Caleb hadn’t heard about Rosemary’s brother getting hitched or anything.
“Mommy, can we go home now?” the boy asked in a soft voice.
“In a moment, sweetheart,” Rosemary replied gently.
Caleb’s world went black, and for a moment he couldn’t breathe as his legs shook beneath him, the implication of what just happened like a crowbar to the kneecaps.
He turned toward the little boy, peeking out from behind the woman who still held his hand. Inhaling sharply, Caleb stared into eyes that mirrored his own, a child wearing his face and shocking red hair like his mother’s.
His son.

April 24, 2018

LOVING A HERO, Hero Series-Book 3: Now Available at Amazon

JEALOUSY:
Stan allowed emotional baggage from his childhood to ruin a relationship with Shelly. But when she finds herself in danger, she reaches out to him for protection. Given this second chance, he’s determined to win her back, while keeping her safe from a stalker.

SECRETS:
Growing up an orphan, Shelly spent her teenage years looking for love in all the wrong places. Pregnant at eighteen, she swore off men to raise her daughter. Years later, the one man she finally gave a chance to broke her heart. But when danger strikes, he’s the first person she turns to.

TRUST:
Can two people overcome their tragic pasts and find a future together?



Amazon Buy Link:
www.amazon.com/Loving-Hero-Book-3-ebook/dp/B079H3VVLH 
(Always FREE on Kindle Unlimited)

Enjoy this short excerpt:

Stan sat next her, close enough his thigh pressed against hers. He stretched one long arm across the back of the couch, peering down at her with a bit of concern, a hint of anger, and a whole lot of desire swirling in his silvery gaze.

"I— Um." She took a deep breath and almost moaned with delight at the familiar scent of his musky cologne she'd always loved. He's not for me, remember. With much effort, she managed to get her rioting emotions under control. 
He’d hurt her, and she shouldn’t forget that. "I'd like to hire you to find my stalker and make him stop."

"I'm not taking your money." His expression turned deadly. "But I'll sure as shit stop this guy."

Scooting back, she came up against the arm of the couch. Her eyes narrowed. She wasn't a charity case. "I can pay you for your services, Stan."

There was a moment of silence as he studied her, and she fought the urge to squirm. He picked up a few strands of her hair and gently rubbed them between his finger and thumb. "You're more than a client to me, Shelly. I care about you. And even though you dumped me, your safety matters."

Shelly opened her mouth to deny dumping him, because it sounded so bad, then pressed her lips together before saying anything. Because she had broken up with him.

Totally his fault.

If you read LOVING A HERO an Amazon review would be GREATLY appreciated. 



Enjoy the Romance!

-Cheryl

April 20, 2018

Top 100 Amazon Bestseller!

Don't miss the rest of my Hero Series. Available at Amazon: www.amazon.com/gp/product/B079K55J24


February 15, 2018

LOVING A HERO, Book 3 of my Hero Series - Available for Pre-Order

Just a quick note to tell you a little about my new release!



Buy Link: www.amazon.com/Loving-Hero-Cheryl-Yeko-ebook/dp/B079H3VVLH 
Blurb:

JEALOUSY:
Stan allowed emotional baggage from his childhood to ruin a relationship with Shelly. But when she finds herself in danger, she reaches out to him for protection. Given this second chance, he’s determined to win her back, while keeping her safe from a stalker.

SECRETS:
Growing up an orphan, Shelly spent her teenage years looking for love in all the wrong places. Pregnant at eighteen, she swore off men to raise her daughter. Years later, the one man she finally gave a chance to broke her heart. But when danger strikes, he’s the first person she turns to.

TRUST:
Can two people overcome their tragic pasts and find a future together?

I also have a short excerpt for you. 😊

Stan sat next her, close enough his thigh pressed against hers. He stretched one long arm across the back of the couch, peering down at her with a bit of concern, a hint of anger, and a whole lot of desire swirling in his silvery gaze.

"I— Um." She took a deep breath and almost moaned with delight at the familiar scent of his musky cologne she'd always loved. He's not for me, remember. With much effort, she managed to get her rioting emotions under control.

He’d hurt her, and she shouldn’t forget that. "I'd like to hire you to find my stalker and make him stop."

"I'm not taking your money." His expression turned deadly. "But I'll sure as shit stop this guy."

Scooting back, she came up against the arm of the couch. Her eyes narrowed. She wasn't a charity case. "I can pay you for your services, Stan."

There was a moment of silence as he studied her, and she fought the urge to squirm. He picked up a few strands of her hair and gently rubbed them between his finger and thumb. "You're more than a client to me, Shelly. I care about you. And even though you dumped me, your safety matters."

Shelly opened her mouth to deny dumping him, because it sounded so bad, then pressed her lips together before saying anything. Because she had broken up with him.

Totally his fault.