Welcome to Running With Quills, your online newsletter designed to keep you up to date with what your favorite authors (that would be us) are doing throughout the year. Here you will find the release dates of our new books and get information about our backlists. We'll preview our cover art here long before the books hit the stores and we'll keep you informed about works-in-progress and special projects. You'll also receive advance notice of signings and appearances. From time to time we'll give you a peek at our worlds, tell you what we're reading, and introduce you to some new authors.
Jayne, here, to welcome back romantic-suspense author Paula Graves. She's got a hot new series debuting and the best part is that the first two books are being published back-to-back this month and next so you don't have to wait to read the second book!
Hi, y'all. Thanks for letting me talk a little bit about my new series from Harlequin Intrigue, "Cooper Justice." The books center around the Coopers, a large, boisterous family who runs a fishing camp and marina on Gossamer Lake in Chickasaw County, Alabama. Some have moved away, while others have stayed, but they all feel the inescapable pull of family and home.
And love, of course. Growing up with parents still happy and in love after over forty years, the Cooper siblings all secretly yearn to find that same forever kind of love.
The first two books in the series, CASE FILE: CANYON CREEK, WYOMING and CHICKASAW COUNTY CAPTIVE, come out back to back this month and next. And the heroes in both books, Riley Patterson and Sam Cooper, share one attribute: they both need a second chance at forever love.
I love stories about love the second time around. I think people are hotwired to seek love in their lives, and just because you've known love, and lost it, doesn't mean you can't find love again, does it? Sometimes, we're lucky enough to find a powerful, fulfilling love more than once in our lives. And sometimes, we find the love we thought we had before but never really did. Those are themes I explore in the first two books of the Cooper Justice series.
When the only Cooper sister, Hannah, is ambushed by a serial killer posing as a cop during her Wyoming vacation, she's the only one of the killer's victims who escaped to tell about it. She's now a person of extreme interest to Wyoming cop Riley Patterson, who's been hunting the killer since the murder of his own wife three years earlier. But there's a big problem: Hannah can't remember much about the attack. Now, she and Riley are in a race to figure out just what it is she can't remember before the killer finishes what he started.
Riley starts the story very much in love with another woman, his deceased wife. But she's gone and he's still young, vital and alive. When he finds himself drawn to feisty Hannah, will he take a second chance on love?
Then, in February 2010's CHICKASAW COUNTY CAPTIVE, we meet Sam Cooper, a prosecutor who has just returned to Chickasaw County. Someone is targeting Sam, using his daughter Maddy to do it. After an attempted kidnapping leaves four-year-old daughter Maddy traumatized and her teenaged cousin/babysitter in a coma, Sam knows he needs help protecting his family and finding out who's behind the attack. But he's not sure Kristen Tandy, a young female police detective with a notoriously tragic past, is the right person for the job.
Sam's not pining for a dead wife. Instead, he's dealing with a living ex-wife, his daughter Maddy's mother Norah, who didn't love him enough to stick around for marriage once motherhood was involved. So the last thing he needs to do is fall for a woman who has a phobia about children. Kristen's tragic past explains her aversion, but can Sam help her work through her fears? Or, for his daughter's sake, will he have to walk away from a second chance at love?
Here's a sneak peek at my February book, CHICKASAW COUNTY CAPTIVE, featuring Sam and Kristen:
* * * * *
Blue and cherry lights strobed the night sky as Sam Cooper muscled his Jeep into a tight turn onto Mission Road. Ahead, a phalanx of police cars and rescue units spread haphazardly across the narrow road in front of his house.
He parked the Cherokee behind the nearest police cruiser, his pounding heart outracing the pulses of light. Ignoring the gaggle of curious onlookers, he took the porch steps two at a time and pushed past the uniformed cop standing in the doorway.
"Sir, you can't—"
Sam ignored him, scanning the narrow foyer until he caught sight of his older brother's terrified face. "J.D.?"
J. D. Cooper turned at the sound of his name. The look on his face made Sam's stomach turn queasy flips. "Is Cissy okay?" he asked J.D. "Where's Maddy?"
J.D.'s gaze flickered back to the paramedics working over the unconscious body of his teenage daughter lying on the woven rug in the middle of the foyer. "Cissy's alive but they can't get her to respond."
Sam's heart skipped a beat. "What the hell happened? What about Maddy?"
J.D. looked at him again. "We don't know."
The panic Sam had held in check broke free, suffocating him. He started toward the stairs up to the bedroom, where he'd last seen his daughter when he kissed her good-night before leaving for his business dinner.
J.D. caught his arm, jerking him to a stop. "She's not up there. We looked."
Sam tugged his arm away. "Maybe she's in another room—"
J.D. gestured at the obvious signs of a struggle. "Cissy didn't just fall down and hit her head, Sam! Someone did this to her! Someone took Maddy."
Sam shook his head, not willing to believe it.
A pair of detectives moved toward them, their badges hooked to their waistbands. All that broke through the haze of Sam's panic was the sympathy in the man's eyes and the complete lack of expression on the woman's face.
The female introduced herself. "Kristen Tandy, Gossamer Ridge Police Department. This is Detective Jason Foley. You're the home owner?"
"Sam Cooper." He bit back impatience. "My daughter's missing."
"Yes, sir, we know," Detective Foley said.
His sympathetic tone only ramped up Sam's agitation. "What else do you know?"
"We've searched the house and the property, and we have officers questioning neighbors, as well," Detective Tandy replied. Her flat, emotionless drawl lacked the practiced gentleness of her partner, but it better suited Sam's mood. He focused his eyes on her face, taking in the clear blue of her eyes and the fine, almost delicate bone structure.
Damn, she's young, he thought.
Foley took Sam's elbow. "Mr. Cooper, let's find somewhere to sit down—"
"Don't handle me," Sam snapped at Foley, jerking his arm away. "I'm a Jefferson County prosecutor. I know how this works. My four-year-old is missing. I want to know what you know about what happened here. Every detail—"
"We're not sure of every detail," Detective Foley began.
"Then tell me what you think you know."
"At 8:47 p.m. your brother J.D. called to check on your niece Cissy to see how she and your daughter were doing," Foley answered. Behind him, his partner wandered away from them, moving past the paramedics and out of view. Sam found his attention wandering with her, wondering if she knew something she didn't want him to know. Something bad.
Foley's voice dragged him away from his bleak thoughts. "When your niece didn't answer her cell phone, he tried your landline, with no luck. So he came by to check in person and found the front door ajar and your niece on the floor here in the foyer, unconscious."
Movement to their right drew the detective's attention for a moment. Sam followed his gaze and saw the paramedics putting his niece onto a stretcher. His chest tightened with worry. "How badly is she hurt?"
"She's been roughed up a little. There's a lump on the back of her head." Foley looked back at Sam. "There's some concern because she hasn't regained consciousness."
Pushing aside his own fear, Sam walked away from Foley and crossed to his niece's side, falling into step with J.D. "She's a fighter, J.D. You know that."
His brother's attempt at a smile broke Sam's heart. "She's a Cooper, right?"
"Mom and Dad have Mike?" Sam asked, referring to J. D.'s eleven-year-old son. Poor kid, growing up without a mother and now facing another possible loss…
"Yeah. I'd better call 'em." J.D. headed out behind the paramedics carrying his daughter out to the ambulance.
"Mr. Cooper?" Detective Foley stepped into the space J.D. just vacated. "We have some questions—"
Sam turned to look at him. Foley's gaze was tinged with pity disguised as sympathy.
"What?" Sam asked impatiently.
"What was Maddy wearing tonight?" Foley asked.
"She was in jeans and a 'Bama sweatshirt when I left her in her bedroom with Cissy," Sam answered, the memory of his daughter's earlier goodbye kiss haunting him. "She didn't want me to leave. Tuesday is extra-story night."
"We found those clothes in the hamper outside her room," Foley said. "Maybe she'd already dressed for bed?"
"Then she's in Winnie the Pooh pajamas. Blue ones. She won't wear anything else to bed. I had to buy three identical sets." He fought a tidal wave of despair. He knew the odds against finding Maddy alive grew exponentially the longer she was missing.
"We'll put out an Amber Alert," Foley said.
Sam walked away, needing space to breathe. The thought that he might never see his daughter alive again made his knees shake and his chest tighten.
"Mr. Cooper?" The sympathy in Foley's voice was almost more than Sam could bear.
"I need a minute," Sam said.
"Sure. Take all the time you need." Foley stepped away. A few feet away, Sam saw the female detective edge toward the staircase. Her eyes met his briefly, her expression grim. Then she turned and headed up the stairs.
Sam's heart squeezed into a knot. Take all the time he needed? Time was the one thing he didn't have. Not if he wanted to find his child alive.
* * * * *
The house was clean but lived-in, the carpet runner in the upstairs hallway slightly askew, as if someone had hit it at a run.
Kristen Tandy moved past Mark Goddard, one of the two uniformed officers tasked with evidence collection, and crossed to a door standing slightly ajar. "Checked in here?" she asked.
Goddard looked up at her. "It's a storage area. Full of boxes. Didn't look like much had been touched, but I'll get to it before we leave."
She donned a pair of latex gloves. "Can I take a look?"
Goddard frowned. "Do you have to?"
But she'd already opened the door and flicked on the light.
Inside, the room was a mess. Stacks of boxes, mostly full, filled the spare bedroom. The Coopers hadn't been living here long, she guessed. Hadn't finished unpacking from the move.
"Maddy?" She stopped and listened. She heard no response, but the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. She stepped deeper into the room, squeezing between two stacks of boxes. "Are you in here?"
There was still no answer, but Kristen thought she heard a noise behind the boxes ahead. She froze in place, her head cocked. The sound of Goddard at work just outside the room mingled with a faint hum of conversation from downstairs.
"When I was a little girl, my favorite game was hide-and-seek." She formed the words from her frozen lips. "I was good at it, you see, because I was so little. I could go places nobody else could go. So they never, ever found me until I was ready to be found."
She eased forward, past a large box in the middle of the room, ignoring the tremble in her belly. "I bet you're good at hiding, too, aren't you, Maddy?"
A faint rustling noise came from the back of the room. Beyond the stack of boxes in front of her, she spotted a door. The closet, she guessed.
"My name is Kristen Tandy. I'm a police officer. I came here to help your cousin Cissy."
A faint hiccough sent a ripple of triumph racing through Kristen's gut, followed quickly by a rush of sheer dread. Taking a bracing breath, she pushed aside a box to get to the closet and pulled open the door.
Four-year-old Maddy Cooper gazed up at Kristen with tear-stained green eyes, her face damp and flushed. "I want my Daddy," she whimpered.
Kristen crouched in front of Maddy, helping her to her feet. The little girl's hands were soft and tiny, and up close, she smelled sweet. Kristen felt her knees wobble and she put one hand on the door frame to steady herself.
Do your job, Tandy.
She looked Maddy over quickly. No obvious signs of injury, she noted with almost crushing relief. "Are you okay, Maddy? Do you hurt anywhere?"
"Kristen?" Foley called from somewhere behind them.
Maddy Cooper flung herself at Kristen, her arms tightening around her. The little girl buried her tear-damp face in Kristen's neck, shaking with fear.
"It's okay," she soothed, fighting the primal urge to push the little girl away and run as fast and as far as she could—the way she felt every time she was this close to a child. Instead, she picked Maddy up and turned to face her partner. The scent of baby shampoo filled her lungs, making her feel weak, but she clung to her equilibrium.
Sam Cooper stood by Foley, staring at her with eyes full of shock and fragile hope. "Maddy?"
At the sound of her father's voice, Maddy wriggled to get away. Kristen put her down, and the child weaved through the stacks of boxes to reach her father.
He scooped her into his arms and smothered her face with kisses. "Oh, baby, are you okay?" Sam held his daughter away to get a good look.
Kristen looked away, a powerful ache spreading like poison in her chest.
"The bad man hurt Cissy!" Maddy wailed.
"I know, baby, but the bad man is gone now. And Cissy's getting help. It'll be all right now, okay?" Out of the corner of her eye, Kristen saw Sam Cooper thumb away the tears spilling from his daughter's eyes.
"Mr. Cooper, we need to ask Maddy—" Foley began.
"Enough, Foley," Kristen said flatly, joining them in the doorway. "You might want to take her to the hospital, too, let a doctor check her over," she said to Sam. "We'll talk to you soon." She grabbed her partner's arm, tugging him with her as she headed out of the room. She couldn't stay there one minute longer, she knew.
Foley stopped in the middle of the hallway. "How the hell did you know—?"
"Kids like to play hide-and-seek," she said, moving ahead of him down the hallway.
She knew from experience.
* * * * *
So what about you? Do you believe in second chances at love? Do you like to read those kinds of stories? Do you have a second chance at love story of your own to share?
Feb 2nd is the release of my single title, BACK IN BLACK. I've got my fingers and toes crossed (and sometimes my eyes too) hoping that readers will enjoy the story!
For anyone who read the previous books in the SBC fighter series, this is Drew Black's story. He's the president of the SBC organization, and he's a real character.
Here's the back cover blurb:
SBC president Drew Black is as controversial as they come. But the hot-headed entrepreneur is a perfect match for his popular sports club venture: uncompromising and extreme. Maybe too extreme. With a reputation for saying what he thinks, Drew's been causing a lot of friction. That's why someone's been called in to clean up his image—before he does any permanent damage.
The lucky lady is Gillian Noode, a PR expert who's smoothed out the rough edges on many a man. But Drew is rougher than anyone she's ever met, and he refuses to change for any woman, for any reason. To make matters more complicated, Gillian's starting to like him raw. Now, opposites aren't only attracting, they're igniting. But in the rising heat, which one of them will end up on top?
Yes, before anyone asks, Gillian gets teased about her last name, Noode. She's used to that. What she isn't used to is a guy like Drew. He's someone who doesn't give a flip what anyone else thinks of him. He trusts his instincts and has complete confidence in his ability to make good - even great - decisions, in business and out. Of course, Gillian finds out that appearances can be deceiving, because Drew is also a caring, responsible, giving person too. But... yeah, he's far from perfect! Hubby loves to help with my promo stuff, and he's pretty much taken over the book trailer stuff. He came up with the idea for the BACK IN BLACK trailer, incorporating an interview (from the Get Together last June, when I was plenty worn out from prep work!) with the actual storyline of the book.
I wanted to post an excerpt, but... well, Drew has a very foul mouth and I couldn't find anything I considered appropriate to this blog. LOL. If you're interested, pretty please go here to read an excerpt:http://www.lorifoster.com/books/black/index.php
RT Magazine gave the book 4.5 stars and said:
HOT! Foster's latest is pure entertainment and a joy to read. Drew and Gillian are adversarial at first, but they soon develop a delightful back-and-forth relationship. The secondary romance has likable characters in Brett and Audrey, whose relationship is a true pleasure to follow. Cat aficionados will delight in Brett's relationship with his pet.
I like for really stubborn characters to find a special someone for whom they WANT to change. But I also like that special someone to realize that too much changing isn't necessary.
So, knowing that Drew Black has a foul mouth and doesn't really curb it for anyone, I'm curious... What do you think of characters who curse? If it fits the character and makes sense within in the book, does it bother you? Does it bother you in real life, or only if someone goes overboard?
Whatever books you're reading this February, I hope you find a lot of enjoyment! All my best,
We're just back from a few days in Boston, "our" city, but my mind is on the coast of Maine -- way "down east," above Bar Harbor, in places like Schoodic, Corea, Milbridge, the Bold Coast. It's the land of wild blueberries, lobster boats, rocky coastline and quiet coves. The Maine coast is often a part of my books. ON FIRE, for one. My publisher has reissued it with a fabulous new cover. Marine biologist Riley St. Joe finds a dead body -- and an FBI agent -- on a small, uninhabited Maine island.
There are over 3000 islands off the Maine coast. Hard to believe, isn't it? Many are uninhabited, and just over a dozen are inhabited year-round, including the stunning Mt. Desert Island, home to Acadia National Park,
where we've spent many happy hours hiking. If you're going, be sure to stop at Jordan Pond for popovers and tea!
According to the Maine Coast Guide, "There are more islands in the Maine archipelago than in the Caribbean, more than in Polynesia or on the Dalmatian Coast."
That's a lot of islands. The island in ON FIRE is pure fiction, of course, and I've never found a dead body in real life anywhere, much less kayaking in Maine. For me, Maine is one of the places I go to in my mind when I'm stressed and just need a mental break -- e.g., when things get a lot bumpy on a flight across the Atlantic! A lit
tle bumpy doesn't faze me but a lot bumpy...I close my eyes, and I'm kayaking in Maine, or I'm sitting on a boulder watching lobster boats in Narraguagus Bay and reading a good book, or I'm perched on a hilltop with a breathtaking view of a classic Maine lighthouse.
I'm going through my Maine photos and putting them up on my photo blog all month -- it's my way of celebrating ON FIRE's return to print. Stop by if you get a chance, and if you have your own "happy place," I hope you'll share it with us...or just take a moment and go there now. :-)
Yes, I'm having my own out of body experience. I think I'm looking in from the outside and I don't know how that woman at the keyboard will get everything on her list done. She also seems to be scattered while she is working which is not a good sign. So, send a few good thoughts her way that she'll settle down.
Today I'm sending you a bulletin on OUT OF BODY events. (There's that phrase again)
1. There is still time to join me on Facebook for a chance to win the copyedited manuscript of OUT OF BODY or a COURT OF ANGELS mug. Follow the Facebook link from www.stellacameron.com or http://purplepapayallc.com/client_promotions.aspx There is a contest for one of Jayne's ARCs there as well as the link to my Facebook Page.
2. A giveaway for OUT OF BODY mugs will continue through February with a reader winning each week.
3. ARE YOU READY FOR THIS? Wazoo is the real reason I'm in a flap. She's "flapping" her mouth and threatening to give away all kinds of inside information about the first COURT OF ANGELS series. Cissy at Writerspace has given me an easier way to keep up with (or try to catch up with) the evil W. Either use the widget right here, go to www.stellacameron.com, or to Facebook to see what she is saying. And if that isn't confusing enough, Wazoo is parading around from Twitter at http://twitter.com/CourtOfAngels You can leave her a question there or you can tell her to behave--I would be very grateful for the help.
4. I'm working with some local booksellers to make goodie packets of an autographed COA logo bookplate, a COA bookmark, and a COA logo sticker available. For these you would need to order your book from the list of booksellers at http://purplepapayallc.com/ParticipatingBooksellers.aspx
5. Seattle Mystery Bookshop is taking orders for autographed books and these books will also include a goodie packet. There is always a link to Seattle Mystery Bookshop below and on my site.
If you aren't on overload, I am. I want to crawl back into my storyland. The only other thing I can think of right now (quit cheering:) is that you can mail away for autographed bookplates at Facebook or my website. Then, if you're quick, you'll have your plate to slap right inside your new book. I know, you can hardly control your excitement.
Q. And there will be a test... Is there anything that makes you really nervous, any situation you know you'll have to face whether you like it or not?
Note: Kate asked us to let you know that she's currently snowed in under a foot of snow and has no internet service, so she won't be able to respond to comments for awhile! (Power's on...I'm BACK!)
I'm sitting here in my office watching the snow fall and realizing that time seems to pass by a lot faster the older I get! It seemed like the release of my very first mass market paranormal romance was at least a gazillion years in the future, and now it's just a month away and I'm beginning to panic. What's funny is that this is far from my first book, and yet it's such an important step for me as I work at moving my career forward, that I'm sort of quietly freaking out about the whole thing.
Help me, ladies! I really need to put this in perspective!! I've had seventeen books out in the past four years alone, and not a one of them has made me as nervous as DemonFire's upcoming release. I think it's the distribution, to be honest, the fact that this one should show up in WalMart and Target and the grocery store where my neighbors shop--places where I've always bought books. I was actually doing okay for awhile, and then my video trailer arrived and reminded me that the release date is coming close...I do love trailers. Not sure if they actually sell books, but they are definitely cool! I had mine done by COS--take a look:
I have the first chapter of the book posted on my website if you'd like to take a look, and if you're the type who likes to preorder, I've got all kinds of ordering links on that page. (Gee, it's so unseemly to whimper, isn't it? I really REALLY need to relax or the next month is going to kill me!)
Anyway, if you get a chance I do hope you'll take a look at the excerpt, and if you'd like just a short taste, this will give you a feel for the dynamics between my heroine, Eddy Marks, a small-town newspaper reporter who does NOT believe in demons or anything at all to do with the paranormal, and Dax, a fallen demon, too good for hell, who's been given one week to save the world from demonkind and, just maybe, earn himself a spot in paradise.
Eddy couldn’t sit still any longer. She bounced to her feet and began pacing around the small living room. “Lemurians. They’re not real, unless you ask Dad.” She spun around and laughed. “He’s going to be thrilled when he finds out about you. Proof that some of his crazy theories are actually true.” Dax and the demons, she thought. It didn’t get any better.
“According to local lore, they’re a race of mystical beings, tall, beautiful people with strange powers who supposedly live inside Mount Shasta in rooms made of gold. Legend says they’re descendants of people from the lost continent of Lemuria that sank beneath the sea, that they had advanced science and technology thousands of years ago. They were even supposed to have flying machines, sort of like the old Atlantis myth.”
Dax shook his head. He twisted around in his seat so he could follow her erratic pacing. “Atlantis is no myth. It really existed and its descendents are still around. I’ve never heard of Lemuria. I’ll need to look into it. The vortex, though, is definitely real. How do you think I got here?”
Eddy stopped in her tracks and stared at him, looking for a twitch, a smile, anything to tell her he was teasing.
He wasn’t.
She glanced at Willow. As if the sprite knew she was being watched, she flashed bright blue and just as quickly faded.
Okay. Point made. Eddy took a deep breath. “Why don’t you tell me exactly how you did get here. Just promise to ignore me if I look incredulous.”
Dax stared at her for a long, slow moment. Then he shook his head and his gorgeous lips turned up in an unbelievably sexy grin. “Eddy Marks, I doubt I could ever ignore you...not for any reason.”
She felt it right between her thighs. A hot lick of heat that had no business firing her senses and making her muscles clench, especially after a hokey come-on like that. It took a tremendous amount of will to continue gazing directly into those smoldering eyes of his. Demon’s eyes. She had to remind herself that, for all his appeal, Dax was not only a stranger, he’d already admitted to being one of the bad guys.
“I’m waiting,” she said, planting her hands on her hips, ignoring his innuendo and her body’s traitorous response.
He still had that cocky grin plastered on his gorgeous face, but at least Dax settled back against the couch. “I was a demon. An immortal in a world of evil. It suited me for a long time, and then it didn’t.” He shrugged. “For some reason, I began to question the life, the constant desire to cause pain, to kill.” He shook his head, shrugged. Gave her a self-deprecating grin. “I guess I learned the hard way. One does not question evil. I got tossed out of Abyss.”
The snake tattoo crawling out of his waistband slowly writhed across his belly and chest. Mesmerized, Eddy blinked. She must be more exhausted than she’d realized.
The subtle motion stopped. The tattoo stayed put. She swallowed and raised her eyes. It was too unsettling to steal even the quickest glance at his body, not when things like that happened. “Where does a demon go that’s worse than hell?”
Dax ran his fingers lightly over his tattoo. Had he felt it move? He stared at her for a moment before he answered.
“Earth.”
So, there you have it--when I first began working on The DemonSlayers series, I was terrified--the books are bigger than my Wolf Tales--120,000 words compared to around 85,000, which is a huge difference when you're juggling plot threads and characters and have the memory of a flea. My office looked like I'd had a "post it note" snowstorm by the time I finished the last page! I had to keep reminding myself that if I can keep over thirty characters through 20 books (Wolf Tales/Sexy Beast) straight, this shouldn't be a problem, but trust me, I can make trouble where none should be found!
Anyway, I do hope you'll take a chance on the book, and if you do, please let me know what you think! Also, I'm planning on a contest--not sure yet what the prize will be, but I'm asking readers who see DemonFire in out-of-the-way stores or cool displays, if they'll take a photo and send it to me with the date and where you see it. I'm going to post them on my Facebook page, just for fun.
What made me think of doing that was when I was shopping in Hardester's, the grocery store in our tiny little town of Cobb, California the other day and saw Jayne's paperback release of Running Hot. All I could think was, DAMN! She's in HARDESTER'S? I mean, if your book makes it to Hardesters, it must be just about everywhere!
Oh, and while I'm talking about contests, I was talking to my buddy Robyn Carr the other day--she's guest blogged here before and I know a lot of you are hooked on her Virgin River series. Anyway, her publisher is running a contest that sounds like fun--the winner will get their name in a new Virgin River book! If you want to be immortalized forever in a bestselling book, Robyn's got a link on her website.
I think that's about it for now--time to go back to chewing my non-existent fingernails and writing Wolf Tales 11--thank goodness I've got a full schedule so I can't spend too much time whining. Besides, at least around our place, no one really pays attention to me anyway! Take care all, and be safe. While I've been working on this blog, we've gotten at least two more inches of snow!
I first met Lucy in--I don't remember when exactly, but it must have been around the beginning of the millennium. She'd invited me and my brainstorming partner, Caroline Cross, to talk with the Olympia RWA chapter. Lucy was unpubbed at the time, but I just knew she would sell one day--and probably sooner rather than later--for she was professional, focused and filled with perseverance, three very important traits in this business.
And once she did sell--Lordy, Lordy, the girl took off like a rocket. Lucy's published just shy of 50 books since 2004, from publishers and lines ranging from Harlequin Presents to Samhain Inspirationals to Berkley Sensations.
Shew! It makes me tired just thinking about it. But for those of you new to Lucy's books this is kinda like hitting the lottery, because what a backlist, eh? So, please, everyone, join me in giving Lucy Monroe a big, Quills welcome! ******************************************************************
Two Weddings and a Deadline
Thanks so much to Susan for having me as a guest. You know I'm a fan of your books, just like the other readers here, but I think you rock as a person too. I'm sure everyone who visits here feels the same. :) You are, as someone wise and lovely once said, one of the good people. :)
On to my musings...
With all the reality TV shows exposing the most bizarre, indulgent and negative side of weddings, it's a little surprising elopements aren't on the rise. Weddings are on my brain in a big way right now because my youngest is getting married on January 31st. That just happens to be the day before my latest manuscript is due and two days before my next release, Moon Craving, hits the shelves. Timing is everything!
My daughter had originally planned to be a June bride, but she and her fiance decided they wanted a winter wedding instead. So, my carefully plotted schedule with all the time in the world to be Mother of the Bride went out the window right along with my sanity. I can't say I mind. No amount of stress can diminish my excitement over the upcoming ceremony and celebration. My oldest married last March, so we've got more recent experience with wedding preparations than we did for hers.
Weddings are wrought with meaning and potential and social context. They're also romantic and special and a reminder to every married person who attends about their own love stories.
Many of our current wedding traditions only date back as far as the Victorian era. For instance, bridal white? Not everywhere. In Japan the color associated with love is purple. In China white is a color for mourning. But here, yep, the most common color for a wedding dress is white. And why? Queen Victoria's break with tradtional bridal silver and the common practice of wearing one's best gown rather than a special bridal gown to get married in. (My daughter would be so disappointed if she didn't have that excuse to buy the Oleg Cassini gown and trundle down the aisle at the Adrianna Hill Ballroom in it.) Speaking of walking down the aisle, it is still common practice in many places for the bride and groom to meet at the front of the church without the bride's slow march down the aisle on the arm of her father.
The exchange of rings is also a fairly recent wedding practice and one I personally love. While some men and women still opt not to wear weading rings, it is definitely the exception, not the norm. (You don't want to hear the horror stories of cutting fingers off in emergency my oldest daughter told her sister when she found out the fiance wants a titanium ring. The fiance wasn't swayed however and his ring is gorgeous.) Did you know that in Greece the wedding ring is worn on the right hand? In some cultures the practice of wearing the ring on the left thumb as a symbol of devout love is still used. I don't really care what finger I wear it on, I just like that little symbol of my lifelong love for my dh.
I'm also partial to the whole "removing the garter and tossing it" tradition. Do you see the look on my dh's face as he removes mine? That man had some seriously kinky thoughts going through his head in that moment. LOL But tossing the garter and the bouquet came about because brides didn't want to be chased down for torn strips of their "lucky wedding dresses" (circa Middle Ages). Yeah, I'm thinking traumatic, how about you? And we thought it was stressful to catch the bouquet! It would certainly justify buying a pair of good running shoes before the wedding. [RunningShoesBride pic]
I love writing weddings as much as I love attending them. In fact, I've been known to write two ceremonies into my stories for different reasons. Below you can find a shortish excerpt of Abigail and Talorc's wedding in Moon Craving. I had a lot of fun writing that scene, but the one that moved me to tears is the private Chrechte (the name of my shapechangers) ceremony later in the book.
Yep, I'm a sucker for a good wedding and it's a good thing too...or I think I might be losing my mind right about now. :)
What are your favorite wedding traditions? The ones you find most bizarre?
Talorc stood before the English priest in the small chapel. The MacDonald warriors and most of the English baron’s soldiers had to remain outside. His own warriors, the MacDonald and five of his men, his bride’s family and a few English soldiers were the only witnesses for the wedding to come.
There were no flowers, no pomp and ceremony for this royally dictated marriage. That should not have bothered him, but the soft-spoken woman he had met the night before seemed to deserve more. Even if she was English. She had been so vulnerable, and yet when he had demanded to know if she planned to marry him, she had taken her time replying.
She had weighed him. He could feel her doing it, and she hadn’t been adding up the size of his lands in her head. She’d been judging him personally and something inside him had refused to be found wanting.
She was nothing like Emily, which was both good and bad. He did not relish the prospect of being likened to a goat by another Englishwoman, but he had no desire to see Abigail Hamilton eaten up and spit out by his clan. Emily had come to the Highlands to protect this very sister from such a fate. He could not help believing her fears had been justified.
Abigail spoke in whispers, seemed oblivious to her beauty and had a nervous habit of holding her hand over her throat when she talked. As if she was preventing the wrong words from coming out. His wolf felt protective toward her like he had no other besides family. Since the only one left, his younger sister Caitriona, was now mated to the Balmoral’s second-in-command, it had been a long time since Talorc had felt those instincts stir so restlessly.
He wanted to believe it was only because the woman was slated to be his wife, but his wolf had shown no such concern for her sister when King David had originally instructed Talorc to marry Emily. The wolf had wanted to howl at the evidence of bruising on Abigail’s pale skin.
And then hunt.
Talorc spent his time waiting for his bride’s arrival glaring at the woman’s mother and forcing down the wolf’s threatening growls.
Lady Hamilton had that same greedy, unreasonable look to her that his stepmother Tamara had had. As if she expected the world to do her bidding and woe betide anyone who refused. At first, the bitch had attempted a smile, but Talorc merely warned her with his eyes how close to death she had come by mistreating the woman that was his.
The fact he had not wanted an English bride made no difference. The kings had dictated that Abigail was to be his and no one dared to mistreat a Sinclair. He was still tempted to kill Lady Hamilton, despite his bride’s pleas to the contrary. His wolf clamored for retribution, if not death.
Eventually, the English lady began to squirm under his hostile regard.
Good. She had no place in Abigail’s life and he meant her to know it.
Niall cleared his throat, but Talorc did not need the prompting. He had picked up Abigail’s scent the moment she entered the chapel. Fragrant herbs, known to heal, mixed with her own unique perfume creating a heady fragrance that called to his beast. It was all Talorc could do not to turn to watch his bride walk up the aisle.
It would not do to show such interest though. The English baron might take it as a courtesy. Not that his wolf seemed to care that Abigail herself was English. The beast never took notice of women, but he certainly noticed Abigail.
And wanted her.
With a ferocity that forced Talorc to keep strict control of the semi-stiff member under his kilt.
The wolf fought to get out and make itself known to the woman about to marry the man. Talorc had to concentrate harder than he ever had on keeping his wolf inside while he waited for Abigail to make her silent trek up the aisle on the arm of the baron.
Finally, he turned, if only to appease the wolf.
Abigail was not smiling, but she did not hesitate in her slow procession toward him. She looked scared, but determined and he respected that.
It was easy to face battle without fear, much harder to face it with uncertainty of the outcome. Eyes the color of rich earth reflected fear, but not terror. That was something. He should not care, but he did not like the idea that marriage to him would terrify her. It was natural for her to be somewhat worried about her future.
She was leaving England for the Highlands. Her life would never be the same.
Nor would his, a low voice inside him insisted. One that sounded suspiciously like his wolf.
Her long ringlets, the color of pure, sweet honey swayed just above her hips with each step she took. Talorc experienced an unfamiliar desire, nay need, to reach out and run his fingers through the silky strands.
He bit back a curse. Where had that thought come from? He had never wanted to touch Emily. Or any other woman. Not since the years during which his body had transitioned from boy to man. His sexual urges had run rampant then, but he had not acted on them.
He had not been ready for a wife and had not found a mate. He would never dishonor his family by not following through on the promises of the flesh either.
Unlike the Balmoral, the Chrechte among the Sinclairs believed sex a binding act. The Balmoral held more lax standards so their warriors could gain control of their ability to shift at will at a younger age. Luckily for Talorc, his father had had the good sense to mate a white wolf who passed that ability at birth on to their children.
That control over the beast within him had never been truly tested until now.
The wolf wanted Talorc to claim Abigail in the way of his people, but he had no intention of doing that in front of a chapel full of people. Nor did he intend to mate her on anyone’s land but his own.
It was bloody frustrating, but for an Englishwoman, Abigail was beautiful and all too alluring. She had perfect bow-shaped lips in a feminine, oval face. Her nose was small and straight and her brown eyes were big and expressive. She’d tried to hide her body’s allure in the English clothes she had donned that morning.
She wore her father’s colors for the last time. The female tunic over the long dress covered every inch of her skin from her neck to her dainty feet. At least she wasn’t wearing the awful cowl-thing her mother had donned. He thought the English women called them wimples. Tamara had insisted on wearing one with the Sinclair, constantly reminding the clan she would not relinquish her English ways.
If Abigail thought to dress so, she would soon learn her mistake.
He would not allow it.
A question came over her lovely features and the baron blanched beside her. Talorc realized he was scowling. He smoothed his features into expressionless repose and put his hand out to take her from her stepfather.
The priest cleared his throat. “We are not yet to that part of the ceremony, my lord.”
Since the man spoke English, Talorc chose to ignore him.
He lifted a brow to his bride, asking why she had not complied with his request.
In a move that surprised him and clearly Sir Reuben as well, she dropped her stepfather’s arm, stepped around him and took Talorc’s hand.
He nodded, grasping her hand firmly and turned to face the priest.
The man looked flustered and took several moments to collect himself before beginning the service. In Gaelic after only one false start.
Talorc spoke the vows of his people in Chrechte when the time came, ignoring the murmurs around him.
When his bride’s turn came, he moved her so the saw only each other, not the rest of the congregation gathered as witnesses. He told her the vows to speak, speaking slowly so she would not stumble on the unfamiliar words.
Her expression puzzled, but accepting, she whispered them back to him, making lifetime promises he was determined she would keep.
If you'd like to read the rest of the scene, follow this link to my webpage: http://lucymonroecotm.com/excerpt_mc.htm
FIRED UP, the first book in my Dreamlight Trilogy, is out and landed on all the bestseller lists the first week on sale. I know that is because so many of you raced out to buy it and I want to take this opportunity to thank you from the bottom of my heart. I am, as they say, dancing on air. Well, sort of. You get the picture.
In answer to all the questions that I've gotten on Facebook and at my website, yes, I am writing Fallon's book as we speak. It will be out this time next year. Meanwhile, you'll catch a glimpse of the new woman in his life in FIRED UP.
There's something else interesting in the back of FIRED UP: The first chapter of BURNING LAMP, the second book in the Dreamlight Trilogy. And don't get me started on what it was like to write the middle book of a trilogy before the first book. I never seem to do things the easy way.
If you haven't read FIRED UP, here's another little taste of the story:
Energy shivered in a heavy wave through the alley.
The killer screamed again, a shrill, sharp screech that ended with stunning abruptness. He dropped the knife, clutched at his chest and crumpled to the pavement.
The dark figure loomed over the killer for a moment. She saw him lean down and realized that he was checking for a pulse. She knew that he would not find one. She recognized death when she saw it.
The man straightened and turned toward her. Fear held her immobile. There was something wrong with his face. It was too dark to make out his features but she thought she could see a smoldering energy in the dark spheres where his eyes should have been.
Another wave of panic slammed through her, bringing with it a fresh dose of adrenaline. She scrambled to her feet and fled toward the street, knowing, even as she ran, that it was hopeless. The creature with the burning eyes would cut her down as easily as he had the killer.
But the monster did not pursue her. A block away she finally stopped to catch her breath. When she looked back she saw nothing. The street was empty.
She had always hoped that if the worst happened on the way home she might get some help from the men in the gym across the street. But in the end it was a demon that had saved her
Thank you, thank you, thank you for your warm reception to my Dreamlight Trilogy. I'm so glad that so many of you are enjoying it. By the way, it turns out that Jack Winters' Victorian era ancestor, was a London crime lord. You'll meet Griffin Winters in April.
Hi everyone! I have a special treat for you today - a guest visit from super-talented, somewhat new author, Lisa Cooke. I read Lisa's first book and was blown away. I adore historicals, and Lisa writes exactly the kind I enjoy most, meaning sexy, fun, fast-paced and with awesome heroes. I'll be first in line for her newest book, A MIDWIFE CRISIS, due out in February. (It'll probably hits shelves late January.)
Please give Lisa a gigantic "Quill" welcome!
Thank you, Lori! And thank you to the Quills for inviting me to guest blog today. I’m truly honored to be sharing cyberspace with such an amazing group of authors.
The topic I’d like to discuss today is: Family—can’t live with them, can’t write without them. I have a large family. We’re talking aunts and uncles out the wazoo, and more than 20 first cousins on both sides. And I love everyone one of them…okay, some more than others, but I love them all. We’ve vacationed together, celebrated the holidays together and just plain survived together for as long as I can remember.
Now that I’ve become an author, I’ve discovered a new use for my vast and varied family--character fodder. They are now an infinite resource for the stories and characters needed to make a novel interesting. At this point, any of my family who might be reading this is probably breaking out into a cold sweat. Don’t worry, loved ones, those characters are compilations of several of my DNA cohorts, and no one will be able to recognize you specifically when the books hit the shelves.
But this does bring me to the point of this blog. Sometimes our family can be an amazing blessing, but sometimes they can make our lives miserable. That is exactly what happens to my heroine in my newest release, A MIDWIFE CRISIS. Poor Katie Napier’s family has decided she needs a husband so they find one for her. Unfortunately, they each find a different one and now Katie has three fiancés. Three! What’s a midwife to do?
Katie decides to handle the situation the best way she knows how. She gives each of her fiancés one night a week to court her, while she keeps track of their strengths and weaknesses on a list. Seems like a great plan, until she falls in love with the new doctor in town…and he’s not on the list.
I had a lot of fun writing A M IDWIFE CRISIS. I think we can all identify with meddling family members, and Katie’s zany family is about as meddlesome as they come.
How about you? What does your family do that makes you nuts, and how have they helped you through the years?
“There's a sweet homespun charm that makes Cooke's latest an enchanting tale. With humor that captures the setting and tenderness that depicts the warmth of the characters, Cooke will steal your heart.” -Kathe Robin- RT 4 stars!
We just got back from Nashville to visit my in-laws, and it was cold, cold, cold. Our favorite time of year in Tennessee is early spring when it's still mud season up here. I love to wander through the Cheekwood Botanical Gardens and have lunch at their restaurant overlooking a green slope. This trip, the temperatures dropped to as low as 12 degrees, and there was snow--a dusting by Vermont standards, but Tennessee doesn't have the equipment or resources (sand!) to deal with it. The black ice was something! Schools closed for the two weekdays we were there.
Fun, huh? We didn't ask ourselves why we didn't go to Florida: it was cold there, too. It was cold everywhere. At home, we dipped to below zero.
What did we do? We watched movies and read books! My in-laws had Elvis movies on, which were showing in honor of his birthday. I have to admit I've never watched an Elvis movie from start to finish. I'm not sure why. My husband, son and I headed to the IMAX theater at Opry Mills to watch "Avatar" in 3-D. It was packed with over 200 people. What an experience! I was completely absorbed.
Back home, it's still cold. With snow on the ground, we can get out snowshoeing, cross-country skiing and walking (carefully), but we're still in movie mode. I treated myself to DVDs of the new BBC editions of "Persuasion" and "Sense and Sensibility." Ahhh. I've also watched the new "Star Trek" several times -- I love it. The actors, the score, the action. The crew of the Enterprise is back!
I've also been buying books and making my way through my TBR stack and, of course, writing. It was fun to see COLD RIVER still on store shelves, as well as to see new books by friends.
What movies have you gone to see or watched at home this holiday season? Do you have any favorites you watch only this time of year? Or don't you watch movies?
The Court of Angels series starts being released on March 1 with OUT OF BODY the first book in the first trilogy.
Am I excited? I really am--and jumpy and anxious to write more books about these paranormal families and the extraordinary foes they face in New Orleans' French Quarter.
Before I get carried away by all that, I've got some thanks to give. As I look back over 2009 I am thankful for my family, my faith, my friends and a world filled with opportunities even if it often seems we have never been in more challenging times.
And I am so grateful for the business of books, the writing and the reading, the hours and hours of entertainment, blood, sweat and tears--and how worthwhile the whole process seems to me. All my life I've turned to books, not to escape, really, but because I wanted to enter stories that kept me looking for a few more minutes of reading.
Some of those books I want to mention:
Susan Anderson Carla Neggars Jayne Ann Krentz Elizabeth Lowell Lori Foster
Back to The Court of Angels. There are lots of activities in the works to celebrate the release of these books with their paranormal heroes and heroines, quirky families, unexpected "developments" and other-worldy types we love to hate.
Within the next day or two we'll start a contest on Facebook for an uncorrected, copyedited manuscript of OUT OF BODY. There is only one so yes, that makes it unique, as an object and as an interesting look at part of the process of taking a book from idea to print. We will also be giving away a couple of COURT OF ANGELS mugs
I'm told that someone you've met in my Bayou Books has a plan to "help" us get the most enjoyment possible out of the books but since she seems to be hiding from me I will reserve judgement on how much "help" she will be.
I wish the very best for all of you as we move into 2010,
Stella
Q: If you could have a paranormal talent, what would you like it to be?
Last night I was all set to blog about Rufus--he's our thirteen (or so) year old dog, a little mixed breed terrier we rescued quite literally over ten years ago--but when I turned on my laptop after a day in town, the Internet was down. Such a fragile link between my messy upstairs office and the rest of the world, that Internet cable that keeps me tied to all of you.
I sat here staring at the "server not found" notice and, knowing how things are in this rural part of the world and that if it's not working at night, it probably won't be until morning, said a few choice words, shut the computer off and went downstairs to read. So, other than the fact I'm a day late, it wasn't all bad! (Fwiw, I read the first story in the new anthology Inked, the one by Karen Chance. I've never read her before and she's GOOD!)
Rufus thought it was great that I joined him on the couch. You may have heard me talk about him. Back in April 1999, I was on my way to the post office when a car ahead of me slowed up, I saw a flash of creamy fur and the car sped up. A tiny little dog was left rolling and tumbling along Canyon Road, but it righted itself and took off, running frantically after the speeding car.
Of course, the car got away and the little dog kept running. I followed behind, as did other cars. A few people--me included--got out and tried to catch him. It's surprising how many people travel these rural country roads, but he ran up a driveway to an empty house and disappeared. It took me three days, coming back to that empty house where he was hiding under the porch, before I finally enticed him out with some smoked turkey from a local deli. When he got close enough and I grabbed him, he fainted.
He came to immediately, so I knew he was merely weak and hungry and frightened. I put him in the cat carrier I'd kept in the car for just this purpose, and took him home. The first thing I did was bathe him--he'd rolled in cow poop and stunk to high heaven and I wanted him presentable before my husband got home. You see, our twelve year old Spike, a Yorkie mix, had just died a few weeks earlier and we'd both had a horrible time over his death. We'd also promised each other that since the kids were gone and the dog was dead, no more dogs.
Bad thing, to tempt fate. Doug knew I'd been trying to catch the abandoned dog so he wasn't too surprised when he came home and this furry blond dynamo refused to let him in the door. We discovered immediately that the little guy had serious issues with men. I told my husband I didn't intend to keep him, but that I couldn't just leave him to starve, and my husband, wonderful man that he is, just laughed and said there was no way we were taking him to the shelter, not after he'd survived in the wild with coyotes and mountain lions for three days.
So, agreeing we were not going to look for an owner who would throw a dog out of a moving car, (though I did call around to all the local shelters to make sure no one was actively looking for him) we told him he had a new home. But what to name him? I sat there with him in my lap, this little furry dog with his ribs sticking out and the sparkle that hadn't left his big, brown eyes, and said, "Okay. We've got you. Now what are we going to call you?"
He looked straight at me and said, very clearly, "Rufus." I kid you not. So we named him Rufus and he has always come to that name, right from the start. We took him to the vet and had him checked over, got his vaccinations, had him neutered (yes, he did forgive me) and he's slept in our bed and owned our hearts ever since.
He had a vet appointment yesterday to have his teeth cleaned and his health checked. He's got a bad back and we have to bar him from the stairs he used to love to race up and down, and some days he's grumbly and curmudgeonly. Now that my husband has grown his hair out and has a beard, the two of them are actually beginning to look alike. I think it's cute--my spouse isn't so sure, but he and Rufus are the best of buddies, now that Rufus has decided men aren't going to hurt him after all. We say he might have been thrown away, but he landed well, and it saddens me, knowing he's growing old and more fragile each year, but I can't imagine all these years without him.
Anyway, my fragile link with the world is strong once again, Rufus is wondering when he's getting his morning walk, and all's right with the world--at least, this little sliver of it. I love hearing pet stories--tell me about a special four legged or two winged critter in your life. I think all of us have or have had at least one. They make such a wonderful difference in our lives. I know Rufus has certainly added to ours.
I'd intended to write about New Year resolutions...but, really, has anyone ever stuck to one of those? Me, not so much, no matter how sincere my intentions going in. Not being fond of that I'm-such-a-failure feeling, I've long since given them up. So I decided to write about books instead. Because, hey, we're all big-time readers here, yes?
I got to read a lot in December. I won't bore you with the reasons for my sudden free time (HQN!) but depite not planning on it, it was nice to have time off during the holidays. I particularly enjoyed having guilt-free reading time. I'm on one of my usual genre-within-the-genre streaks--this one paranormal--so I read the entire Lynn Viehl Darkyn series before Christmas. Then my sweet baby boy bought me the newest Charlaine Harris "Grave" mystery and the 2nd and 3rd in the Devon Monk Magic series, which I read mostly over the long New Year weekend while snowed in at our cabin. I'm currently reading J.R. Ward's Covet. I can honestly recommend them all--but am particularly pumped over Monk's books. She's got a terrific voice and interesting plots and they're set in Portland, Oregon, which for me just makes them that much more fun.
I'm heading out to get Jayne and Kate's new January releases--after which I think I'll probably be ready to move on to a new genre. Maybe I'll look into historical romance.
Hmmm. I wonder if Suzanne Enoch, Sherry Thomas or Elizabeth Hoyt have anything new. I'll have to check that out.
So what about you? Have any hot recommendations for me for 2010?
Can't believe we just rolled into 2010 and still no flying cars. What's up with that? There were supposed to be flying cars by now. Then, again, maybe it's just as well. There are enough traffic problems as it is, what with cell phones and stuff.
This new year is particularly exciting for me because the first book in my Dreamlight Trilogy, FIRED UP, just went on sale. I'm having a blast writing these books. I hope you enjoy them. Here's a little taste of FIRED UP:
“I’m probably going to regret asking this, but what is The Talk?” Jack asked.
“That’s when I explain about my commitment issues,” Chloe said. “I make it clear that any relationship I enter into is likely to be short-term and that there are no strings attached. I make sure that the other person knows that he is free to dump me on a moment’s notice without feeling any guilt.” She frowned a little. “But for some reason I’m usually the one who ends up doing the dumping.”
“You’re a real romantic, aren’t you?” he said flatly.
“I can’t afford to be a romantic, Mr. Winters. Not with my talent.”
He shot her a quick, searching look. “What does your talent have to do with it?”
“It’s hard to explain,” she said. She leaned her head against the back of the seat, folded her arms and closed her eyes. “It doesn’t matter now, anyway.”
“Why not?”
“The serial monogamy thing got old. I moved into a new phase about a year ago. I admit that I toyed with the idea of going back to serial monogamy for a time with Fletcher but I finally realized it just wouldn’t work.”
“I really know I’m going to regret asking the next question, but I can’t help myself," Jack said. "What comes after serial monogamy?”
“Celibacy.”
He felt blindsided again. “Celibacy?”
“There’s a kind of freedom in the celibate lifestyle," Chloe explained.
Meet the men of the Burning Lamp. Welcome to the dark side of Arcane.
By the way, if you happen to live in the Pacific Northwest and if you're interested in writing for today's romance market you might like to know that I'll be doing a couple of writing workshops next weekend (Jan. 9 & 10). Bring your questions and we'll talk shop. Here's the schedule:
Hi, y'all. Thanks for letting me talk a little bit about my new series from Harlequin Intrigue, "Cooper Justice." The books center around the Coopers, a large, boisterous family who runs a fishing camp and marina on Gossamer Lake in Chickasaw County, Alabama. Some have moved away, while others have stayed, but they all feel the inescapable pull of family and home.
When the only Cooper sister, Hannah, is ambushed by a serial killer posing as a cop during her Wyoming vacation, she's the only one of the killer's victims who escaped to tell about it. She's now a person of extreme interest to Wyoming cop Riley Patterson, who's been hunting the killer since the murder of his own wife three years earlier. But there's a big problem: Hannah can't remember much about the attack. Now, she and Riley are in a race to figure out just what it is she can't remember before the killer finishes what he started.
Then, in February 2010's CHICKASAW COUNTY CAPTIVE, we meet Sam Cooper, a prosecutor who has just returned to Chickasaw County. Someone is targeting Sam, using his daughter Maddy to do it. After an attempted kidnapping leaves four-year-old daughter Maddy traumatized and her teenaged cousin/babysitter in a coma, Sam knows he needs help protecting his family and finding out who's behind the attack. But he's not sure Kristen Tandy, a young female police detective with a notoriously tragic past, is the right person for the job.
Good morning, my flowers:
Today I'm sending you a bulletin on OUT OF BODY events. (There's that phrase again)
