Cold and snow yesterday–yes, snow, YUCK! Today, it’s sunny and a little warmer, still winter coat weather, but this too shall pass.
Today’s letter is X. I’ll be honest with you. I’ve got very little to work with here, but I suppose X could stand for X-rated. While every now and then i will have sex scenes in my novels, while they may be adult content, they aren’t really X-rated. That isn’t the way I write. I prefer to leave things to the imagination of the reader.
I’m not saying that there’s no place for that kind of writing, but it isn’t for me. I would prefer to write stuff my kids, grandkids, neighbors, and even my minister can read.
Today’s letter is the letter W. To me, today and every day, in my writing and outside it, the letter W stands for Weather. During this month, I’ve mentioned the weather almost every day as a way to keep track of it for myself and also so that those of you in hot, sunny places could commiserate with me. For the record, it’s cold, cloudy, and raining AGAIN!
My books reflect the weather in that whatever season I’m writing in is usually the one I’m writing about. When I wrote Hello Again, there had been several tornados in Western Canada and the American Midwest. That year, there had even been a couple in our part of the country, something that had never happened before. So, when I decided to write the book and put a tornado in it, I did some research. I watched Twister, and I read interviews with people who’d survived vicious tornados. I was fascinated by pictures that showed the devastation created by the vicious windstorms. I used all that information to create the scene in my book.
Fat raindrops splashed against the windshield. Up ahead, a small copse of trees, on the east side of the road bent almost to the ground, shaken by the sudden heavy wind that made steering all but impossible. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, rattling the car as the rain increased in intensity.
Sighing, she pulled over to the side of the road, noticing the drainage ditch at the last minute. Another two feet and she and Matilda would’ve been in big trouble. Maybe she should turn around and go back to the education center and park up close to the building. A blast of wind rocked the car viciously and convinced her to stay put.
Unfastening her seatbelt, Charley put the seat back, closed her eyes, and prepared to wait out the storm. She hadn’t slept well last night. The wind rocking the vehicle was strangely comforting rather than disturbing, reminding her of the evenings she’d sat on the swing in the backyard, cradled in Mike’s arms. She could feel the heat of his body, smell his aftershave, that woodsy cologne he’d favored. Drifting down memory lane, she relaxed, warm and comforted as she hadn’t been in years.
Suddenly, the warmth was ripped away from her, replaced by a blast of cold that seeped right into her bones, startling her awake as nothing else could’ve done. The woodsy scent she’d imagined was replaced by the petrichor of the storm, the airborne aroma of decomposing plant and animal matter attached to the dirt and mineral surfaces around her, borne on the heavier winds. The steady pitter-patter of rain on the windshield was replaced by the hard rat-tat-tat of hail.
Black clouds, heavy rain, hail, this heat and humidity … What the hell was she thinking? She’d seen the news last night. This was the perfect combination for a tornado, and since there wasn’t much around taller than her car—even the damn bushes were kissing the ground—staying inside like this wasn’t the smartest thing she could do. As much as she missed Mike, she didn’t have a death wish, and sitting in the car like this, out in the open, was suicide.
“That’s the first smart thought you’ve had in five years.”
She shook her head. She must still be daydreaming. Her conscience sounded so much like Mike, it was unsettling, but she needed to smarten up now. The Emergency Preparedness Guide Miri had insisted she memorize was clear. There was no perfectly safe thing to do in a situation like this, but, in the event of a tornado, if she could safely exit the car and get lower than it, she should. Considering how she felt about storms, it would be like jumping out of the frying pan into the fire, but sitting here doing nothing wouldn’t work either.
The hail and rain came down so hard, she could barely see through them, but there was that drainage ditch beside the road—no doubt one that would fill up with water—but what choice did she have?
“Charlotte, get out of the damn car now.” Her father’s voice echoed in the vehicle, loud in spite of the noise from the hail.
“Dad?” She shook her head vigorously. “This is not happening.”
But the sense of urgency in the voice she couldn’t possibly have heard forced her to don her jacket and reach for two of the pillows on the back seat, grateful she’d worn jeans today after all. She opened the door and a heavy gust whipped it out of her hands. Fighting the wind’s pull, she got out of the car, sliding on the dime-sized chunks of ice that covered the ground as completely as snow would in a blizzard. She clung to the vehicle, walked around the trunk, stepped over the trailer hitch bar, and threw herself down on top of the layer of ice in the bottom of the drainage ditch beside the road, shivering at the unexpected cold, placing one pillow under her head and the other atop it. So far, there was no accumulation of water, but at the rate the rain and hail were coming down, it was only a matter of time.
Hailstones pummeled her body. Water seeped through her clothing as the ice beneath her melted. No doubt she’d have a few nasty bruises when this was over. Colder than she’d been in weeks, she quickly doubted the wisdom of leaving the car. Obviously, she hadn’t really heard her father’s voice, no more than she’d heard it the day Mike had died. She’d made a decision based on her circumstances. What if it had been the wrong one? Perhaps she should get back inside the vehicle. At least it offered some protection. She was about to do that when the noise around her increased.
“You are the most stubborn woman in the universe.” Mike’s frustrated voice was loud inside her head, filling her with joy. She wasn’t imagining this. She could hear him. “If you’d been willing to meet me halfway, it wouldn’t have come to this.”
“Mike!” she cried, happier than she’d been in years.
She hadn’t imagined his voice. He’d finally come for her. She raised her head, prepared to get out of the ditch when something larger than a chunk of ice landed across her legs, sending a shaft of pain ripping through them. Her left leg was on fire. She was pinned to the ground like a bug in a science display.
No! She had to get up and go to Mike. He was here. He’d come for her. She tried to get up but she couldn’t move her legs. She was trapped under what must be a branch—hell, that had to be a whole God damn tree. Where had it come from? She’d seen lots of bushes, but no full-sized trees in at least an hour.
The buzzing grew louder, the hail stopped and the same warmth she’d felt in the car seeped into her as if she were being covered by a heavy blanket, momentarily numbing the throbbing in her leg. A loud, low roar, reminiscent of two freight trains passing by filled her ears, and in the noise she heard metal clanking over and over.
Oh my God! Matilda!
The scream of steel being torn apart made her ears ache. The car and the trailer had to be caught in the funnel, and if they were, then she’d lost everything. It was a good thing she’d listened to that inner voice and had gotten out of the vehicle, even if her body would look as if she’d gone ten rounds in a boxing ring, but what would she do now?
More terrified than she’d ever been, Charley clung to the pillow over her head despite the sting of dirt and other debris ripping at her hand. It seemed to go on and on, and suddenly, the hard muddy ground beneath her became slimier. Water moved slowly around her as runoff from the fields above her began to fill the ditch. She was going to die alone in this ditch.
“You’re not alone, Charley. I’m here.”
Mike’s words calmed her. Of course, he was here. He’d come for her.
“No, I haven’t, but he’ll be here soon.”
Something hard and heavy hit the pillow over her head, and she spiraled into oblivion.
Cloudy but mild today. Hopefully I’ll get out and walk before the rain.
Today’s letter is V. In my writing, V stands for Vengeance is Mine, my best-selling series. The series consists of five romance thrillers, including A rewritten version of Fire Angel, the first book I ever published.
In each of these books, someone is looking for justice, and if they can’t get it, revenge will do–until they get caught. Check them out for yourself. https://mhsusannematthews.ca/
Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales. It’s hard to believe we’re at the end of April. The weather certainly doesn’t feel like it, so let’s hope May will be more spring-like. Tuesday tales is a weekly blog where a select group of authors post scenes from their works in progress. I’m working on a new story, Trouble with Eden.
Jackson sat on the side of the hospital bed, his newly replaced fiberglass cast propped up on a stool and followed the bright penlight as he’d been instructed to, trying not to blink his eyes. In the almost three weeks that he’d been here, he’d been poked and prodded, examined and tested, until he was ready to scream. His ankle had been surgically rebuilt, and his broken leg was healing well inside its cast. He wouldn’t be running marathons anytime soon, but he would walk with only the slightest limp—or so the doctor hoped.
Thanks to the insurance agent who’d driven down from Toronto to check out the damage, he knew exactly what he’d hit—a bull moose standing more than two meters or six feet tall and weighing 750 kg, almost 1600 pounds. Only in Canada did people measure both ways. While the man hadn’t been able to come inside the hospital because of on-going COVID restrictions, he’d phoned and had delivered a thorough report, complete with photographs. Jackson was lucky to be alive, and he knew it.
It wasn’t surprising that the Mercedes was a right-off, but since he carried replacement insurance, there was a new one ordered for him, the same make and model, if a couple of years newer. Everything, including his new car, would be waiting for him at the local Mercedes dealer just as soon as he could get out of here.
The doctor lowered the penlight and raised his stethoscope to his chest. Jackson twisted his neck to the right, focusing on the plant the lawyer had sent, breathing in, and then exhaling on cue. What a fool he’d been. If there was a bonus to spending the last three weeks flat on his back, it was the time it had given him to think.
Naïvely, once he’d received the letter, he’d assumed that everything would work out. As an only child, now orphaned, he was thrilled with the possibility of a sibling, the brother he’d always wanted. As he’d lain here, counting the holes in the acoustic tiles above his bed, he’d thought long and hard about his foolish decision. Here he was, a total stranger, sticking his hand into the man’s pocket and stealing half of what the guy had expected would be his. No wonder E J hadn’t sent flowers.
That’s it. Stay safe and don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales
Heroes in action: Both in and out of uniform.Whether fighting to save their families, hot detectives in pursuit of the truth, young sweethearts facing difficult choices, or a strong man offering a broken woman comfort, this sizzling set of EIGHT exciting romances from NY Times and USA Today Bestselling authors will get your heart pounding and keep you turning pages long into the night.
PLAY RIGHT BY ME by Patrice Wilton Pregnant and heart broken, Brittany returns home to Paradise Cove. A handsome stranger renting one of the cottages for the summer offers support and friendship. Can their brief affair turn into a lifetime of love? NY Times and USA Today BestsellingAuthor
FESTIVAL BY THE SEA by Traci Hall Darcy Smith sees old friend Al Cooper in a different light. Too bad he’s her brother’s best friend and off limits. Then again, why should Al be the one to break all the rules? USA Today Bestselling Author
DEDICATED SERVICE by Susan Jean Ricci After someone dear to him is killed in action, how far is Michael Burke willing to go to avenge the tragedy, and still preserve his relationship with the love of his life? USA Today Bestselling Author
FALLING FOR CAPTAIN HUNK by Stephanie Queen Cap vowed not to get involved with another cop, but his heart had other ideas. USA Today Bestselling Author
EXPOSED: Prequel Novella: Sizzling Hot Detective Series (The Criminal Affairs Collection) by Taylor Lee A renegade police officer infiltrates a dangerous cartel. Can the undercover special operative keep her from destroying the mission — and herself? USA Today Bestselling Author
DEADLY SECRETS, LOVING LIES by USA Today Bestselling author Cynthia Cooke How far will undercover agent, Genie Marsters go to stop a vicious terrorist and protect her family? Will Kyle, her ex-partner/lover ever forgive her?
THE REBEL’S REDEMPTION by Jacquie Biggar When an old enemy follows and causes mayhem in the small town of Tidal Falls, can Jared Martin overcome the odds to protect the woman he’s always loved and the child he never knew, or will it be too late for redemption? USA Today Bestselling Author
SWEET LENI by Mimi Barbour Detective Mike Kowalski adores the spirited boxing chick who has lost so much but feels she’s slipping away. With the help of their friends, he tries to keep her safe from an unknown killer. In the end, the choices were hers to make. All he could do was stand by and watch… And be ready to pick up the pieces. NY Times and USA Today BestsellingAuthor
Welcome back to the last week of the challenge for this year. The weatherman is being particularly cruel today as temperatures soars up to 70 F, 21 C, but we’re under a heavy rain warning. So unfair!
Today’s letter is U, and while I’m tempted to write about umbrellas, but in my writing, U stands for the uniqueness of each of my characters. They are one of a kind, each remarkable, special, and unusual in some way. They have faults to go with their qualities, and idiosyncrasies, but what makes them unique is that in some way, they do indeed exist — and not just inside my head or on the page of a book.
And why is that true? Because each of my characters embodies traits from people I know. In many cases, I use names of friends and family, draw on what makes them special to me, and then with the Godlike powers only an artist possesses, I bring them to life for me and my readers. Let’s look at Emerald Glow for the example this morning.
The main character is Lee. Her best friend is Janet. Lee, Janet, and I met at university in 1969. Recently, I reconnected with Lee retired from teaching and has become an amateur nature photographer. In that story, you’ll meet Arnold and Teresa, a wonderful couple we met on the trip aboard the Rocky Mountaineer, which is the backdrop for the story along with all the beauty and majesty of the Canadian Rockies. The story is an unusual romance written a little like a travelog, and the Sue and John in the story? Why that’s me and my hubby! As for the title, An Emerald Glow is the signature drink at the Chateau Lake Louise.
Here’s the blurb.
She’s given up on finding the right man. After a painful divorce, he’s sworn off women. But you don’t always get what you want, especially when a typo can spell disaster.
Following a breakup that’s soured her opinion of men, photographer Lee Andrews is hoping this assignment for an online e-zine will help her set her life on the right path. If she can stay focused on her job and ignore the opposite sex, so much the better.
Alexander Fedorov is a burned-out journalist, tired of covering one disaster after another. His recent divorce has left him bitter and determined to stay as far away from the female sex as possible. This new assignment offers a change of pace. As long as he can avoid meddlesome females, he’ll be fine.
When they meet, sparks fly and personalities clash, especially when the full impact of a small typo and making assumptions makes itself known loud and clear. Both are determined to be adult about the situation, keep their distance, and complete the job. But that may be easier said than done, especially when the attraction they feel for each other is magnetic.
How’s that for uniqueness? Emerald Glow is available from any Amazon store or free to read in KU. Come back tomorrow for the letter W!
Looking for a book to add to your TBR pile? Consider Just for the Weekend.
School’s out and it’s time to play with the grown-ups. Kindergarten teacher Cleo James is in a rut and needs a change. For the last three years, she’s been at her widowed dad’s beck and call, but enough is enough. When her best friend suggests a weekend in Vegas at a sci-fi convention, she sets aside some of her inhibitions, and agrees to visit Sin City. After all, it’s just for the weekend. What could possibly go wrong? Multimillionaire Sam Mason is sick of gold diggers. He’s looking for someone who’ll fall for him, not his wallet. The opportunity to disguise himself and mingle might just be the distraction he needs before embarking on his next big job. And, what harm can come from playing make-believe for a few days? When he meets a gorgeous redhead dressed to resemble a green-skinned slave girl, he’s entranced, and it gets even better when he realizes she’s mistaken him for a Chippendale. Between the sexual attraction and too much alcohol, he wakes up two days later married to his redheaded beauty. Sam’s head over heels in love with his bride, but she’s vanished. Finding her will be a lot harder than he thinks, especially when she’s played the name game, too. Click on the link for a chance to read the preview.
Today’s letter is T, and in my writing, T stands for teaser. The dictionary defines teaser as a person who teases, like Mother Nature and this year’s weather. First warm, then cold again–like this morning’s 28 degrees F or -2 C. The birds aren’t happy, and neither am I. But in writing, a teaser is the first step in interesting a reader in a book. It’s a short blurb, sometimes found on the front of a cover that’s purpose is to intrigue the reader and make them curious to know what the story is all about.
Teasers are sometimes used in memes, like this one from The Captain’s Promise.
At other times, they are statements found on the front covers. IN Secrets and Lies, book five in the Vengeance is Mine series, the teaser reads: Graduating from school is easy; getting out alive may be a whole lot harder.” In His Christmas Family, the teaser is: “Lee is getting more than he expected from Santa this year.” In Hello Again, the teaser is a question: “Can she lift the curse and find love?”
At other times, teasers are used to promote a story in ads. Losing the ability to dance almost destroyed Brandi. Now, she trusts no one and nothing. Jarrett has loved Brandi for as long as he can remember. Can he break through the walls she’s built around her and offer his love to ease her pain? Forever and Always, an All for Love book.
Here’s the blurb:
The dance is everything, or is it? Brandi Alexandra Jameson’s entire life has been dedicated to ballet. When an accident she believes was caused by a crazed stalker fan leaves her close friend and dance partner dead and herself barely able to walk, she’s lost, adrift without a future. Jarrett Sullivan has spent most of his life in love with the petite red-headed brunette he met when he was in first grade, acting as her protector throughout school, but just as he was ready to make his move, she left Victoria for the National Ballet in Toronto. He’s followed her career, and now that she’s back home, he jumps at the chance to get to know her the way he always wanted to. Brandi remembers Jarrett, the boy she idolized, and when the man wants to have a relationship with her, she’s thrilled. But that joy turns to horror when she learns the truth about a poster and believes he’s just another fan and that it’s Alexandra, the dancer, he wants, not Brandi, the broken woman. Fleeing her family and Victoria, she runs to the only friend she has hoping to heal her broken heart. Discovering Brandi may have misunderstood the situation, Jarrett is frantic to find her and straighten out the mess, but will she be willing to listen and give him a second chance?
How I long for weather that is settled and makes sense. Today, it started out sunny, but cold. Then it warmed up a little, but the wind got vicious. I’m hoping to go out walking later. By then, we’ll probably be having a blizzard.
Today’s letter is S. In my writing, S stands for sensible. I believe that the dialogue and the interactions between my characters needs to not only make sense and be realistic, but it also needs to be sensible. Sensible means practical and reasonable. In other words, I try to make sure that even in a crisis at least one of the main characters remains level-headed and calm, and you make wise decisions.
In Echoes of the Past, events unfold that make the hero question his sanity.
Romance suspense
He lies on his side on the animal hide, his head propped up on his elbow, watching her sleep. How long does she think her excuse of gathering roots and snaring rabbits will last, especially when she has so little to show for it each time she’s been away?
The naked woman beside him stretches in her sleep. Her copper skin glows even in the dimmest light. Her ebony hair spreads fan-like around her head. Her features are fine, her lips lush, begging to be kissed. When open, her almond-shaped brown eyes, flecked with gold, add to her exotic beauty. She’s unlike any woman he’s ever known, and he’s known many despite his mixed blood. It’s craziness to stay here like this, but he can’t leave without her. The odds of getting caught increase with every visit she pays to his secret grotto, but he loves her more than he ever thought possible.
He reaches for her, runs his calloused hand down the side of her warm, silky torso. Her nipples pucker at his touch. Her eyes open, and she smiles. She raises her arms and pulls him down on top of her. His lips meet hers with an insatiable hunger. His tongue delves into her warm, willing mouth, feasting on her sweetness, and he hardens painfully.
Without any warning, the dreamscape shifts, and he runs through the brush, fleeing for his life. Twigs and branches tear at his buckskin garments. A thorn bush rakes his face. If he’s caught, it’ll mean torture and death, but he isn’t worried about himself. He worries about her. Did she get back safely? He slows his pace. Through the trees, he looks over at the far side of the lake and sees her tall, lithe figure standing on the beach.
Her beauty, grace, and majesty set her apart from the other squaws. Those harridans point and scream, but she stands still, wrapped in the woven, quilted blanket she showed him not two hours ago.
He doesn’t dare stop for a better look. His heart thunders in his ears, his side aches, but he increases his speed, pushing his painful muscles beyond their limit. The enemy approaches, but she’s safe, and that’s all that matters. He doesn’t see the log across the path. He stumbles and falls…
Tony Steele awoke with a start. His heart pounded and sweat covered his body. His ragged breathing dragged air into his oxygen deprived lungs. His muscles screamed and cramped the way they did after a particularly grueling cross-country race. Not again. For weeks now, these strange dreams had haunted him…Dreams? Hell. These memories lingered as if he had actually done these things.
He shuddered despite the heat emanating from his body. He rose, went to the window, and opened it slightly. He breathed deeply, hoping to calm himself, knowing it wouldn’t happen any time soon. He glanced into the parking lot. Through the curtain of rain, he noticed Aaron’s car parked once more in the lot, but not in its regular spot.
Somewhat cooler, he shut the window. He raised his hand to his stinging cheek, surprised to feel wetness there. He padded into the bathroom, turned on the light, and stared in the mirror. Blood seeped from the ugly red scratch on his face.
Damn! That’s a hell of a scratch. I need to cut my nails.
Using a tissue, he sopped up the blood and touched a septic pencil to his cheek to stop the bleeding. He cursed at its sting, tossed the tissue in the garbage can, and left the bathroom. The stairs creaked under his heavy footsteps. He entered the kitchen, opened the fridge, and took out a bottle of water. Half of it disappeared in one gulp, and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
These dreams disoriented him and had taken on a life of their own. Like a voyeur peeking through a window, he watched the carnal scene unfold night after night. He recognized himself as the man in the dreams, despite the longer hair, the scars, and the tattoos marring his body.
Tony wandered out onto the screened-in porch and looked out at the lake. The strong night winds whipped it into a frenzy as if the water boiled with anger. He checked his watch. Two in the morning again. He needed to break this habit. These unusually vivid dreams had started the first night he’d arrived at the resort. Most of them, exquisite, erotic fantasies, left him dissatisfied, but tonight’s dream had transitioned into a flight for his life.
From personal research, he knew a dream’s meaning rarely had anything to do with its contents. This research project into the source of the water in the lake meant everything to him personally and professionally. He was afraid something would happen to ruin it. That explained being chased, but it didn’t explain the sexual fantasies. Those he understood easily enough.
He recognized the woman in his dreams as the shawl-wrapped stranger who walked along the beach every now and then. Beautiful and exotic, something about her called to his soul. He preferred women who didn’t look like carbon copies of others, and this one intrigued him. He thought about her now.
He had noticed her the night he arrived. He never slept well in a new bed. Unable to settle, he’d stepped out onto the porch and noticed someone else apparently suffering from insomnia. A woman, a blanket wrapped around herself, her hair in a long braid down her back, strolled along the edge of the sandy beach. She had moved southeast toward the edge of the lookout. He stepped outside to get a better look at her, but she’d vanished.
The next night, his imagination and libido had taken over, and in his dreams, she’d entered his leafy grotto, and they’d had mind-blowing sex. The things they had done to one another. Thank God, he awakened before his body had finished responding to his fantasy.
He’d gotten up, frustrated as all hell, and had gone downstairs. Standing in the screened-in porch, he’d looked out at the lake. Unlike tonight, the water had resembled a mirror reflecting the stars on its surface, and he’d been suspended between the water and the sky—everything brighter, crisper, and clearer than he’d expected. Animals had scurried in the brush nearby. Bats had swooped overhead. An owl had hooted, and he’d shivered. Hadn’t some of the Native American tribes believed death followed the cries of an owl?
Tony had just turned to go back inside when he’d glimpsed his mystery woman coming along the beach from the marshy area to the north. He’d called out to her. She’d turned at the sound of his voice and had stopped. In the moonlight, he’d seen the sparkle of silver tears on her cheeks. Naked, he’d hurried into the kitchen, had grabbed his damp swimsuit off the drying rack, and had rushed out, but she’d disappeared.
He blinked, and the memory passed.
Looking out now, he cringed. He’d never seen a storm as vicious as tonight’s. The rain came down in sheets. Thank God the kids had made it back safely. He turned to go inside when a flash of lightning, the first he’d noticed tonight, illuminated the beach.
What the hell?
The woman, wrapped in her blanket, walked along the beach as if all hell wasn’t breaking loose around her.
He ran to the door and raced across the short expanse of grass. He stopped at the edge of the water. Where had she gone? As she’d done every time he’d tried to catch her, she’d vanished. Wet through, he hurried to get back inside. He noticed the light go out in Jackson’s room.
Tony entered the cabin, stripped off his wet clothes, and tossed them into the kitchen sink. Naked and shivering, he climbed the stairs and went into the bathroom. He took a hot shower and then dried his shoulder-length hair. He needed to get it cut. Grabbing a clean t-shirt and a pair of boxers out of the drawer, he dressed and then fell exhausted onto bed, hoping for sleep.
You can read more by downloading Echoes of the Past, which is free to read in KU. Check my website for links to all of my books. https://mhsusannematthews.ca/
Hello again. Well, Mother Nature continues to be poopy. It’s still cool, and the rain is expected to start again at any time. On a positive note, the grass is greening and some of the trees are getting ready to grow leaves which means the pollen count is high. Hello runny nose and itchy eyes.
Today’s letter is the letter R. I my books, the letter R stands for repetition. Most of the time, repeating the same word or starting several sentences the same way is a no-no, especially when in close proximity to one another. Struggling to avoid the use of the he or she sentence is the same paragraph can be difficult, but it’s up to the writer to make are there are a good variety of sentences, not simply repeating the same thing each time.
Occasionally, repetition is used for effect. How many times were you told to “never, ever, ever” do something again? Never would’ve been enough, but Mom or Dad didn’t agree and doubled up on it.
Sometimes, stories are based on characters repeating an action. For example, in Desert Deception, the heroine returns to her hometown, even though she’s convinced nothing good will come of it. But, in life as in fiction, confronting your demons is necessary. Have a look at the opening scene.
Romance suspense
Casey Stevens turned off the Apache Trail, also known as Highway 88, onto the Skansen Mine Road and headed into Fortune, slowing her hot pink and black Harley-Davidson motorcycle, careful to stay under the speed limit. Back in the day, there’d always been a deputy, hiding just up ahead behind the billboard or one of the abandoned buildings, waiting to nail some unsuspecting tourist who’d failed to slow down to the town’s ridiculously low speed limit. This might be her new toy’s first major road trip, but that didn’t mean she wanted a ticket as a souvenir.
The joys of the open road had stopped her from dwelling on her cases, but nothing could ease the disquiet she felt about returning to the town and the memories she’d avoided for fifteen years, and the closer she got to home, the more unsettled she became. Coming back to the scene of the crime, as it were, was a mistake, and she knew it. Nothing good would come of this, but Mom had insisted, and here she was.
The Bluetooth attached to her helmet buzzed startling her out of her reverie, providing further proof that leaving Santa Fe now had been a colossal error. Ken, the second chair on her current case, had called four times since she’d left her apartment this morning. Considering it was only a seven-hour-drive, that was three times too many.
Knowing she needed to answer the call, not wanting to ride while she was distracted, especially if they argued as they had two hours ago, Casey cautiously steered the bike onto the unpaved shoulder and stopped less than ten feet from the sign in front of her. Welcome to Fortune. Population: 26,847
“What are they counting, jackalopes?” she mumbled aloud. When she’d left, there hadn’t been fifteen thousand people in town. That had to be one hell of a population explosion.
The Bluetooth sounded again. Dismounting, she pulled off her helmet, shaking her head, sending her ponytail swaying back and forth. Pulling the smartphone out of the zippered pocket of her leather jacket, she answered the call. “Don’t worry about anything. I’m heading back. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Hello to you, too, Red,” a man said and chuckled. “Someone rattling your chain?”
Closing her eyes, she smothered a groan. “Hi, Ryan,” she said, recognizing the voice. “Sorry about that. I thought you were his highness calling again.”
Ryan chuckled. “Baby Boss giving you a hard time?”
“You could say that. He can’t seem to find anything. I swear he would lose his head if it wasn’t attached.” Pulling a bottle out of the insulated pouch on her tank bag, she squirted cold water into her mouth.
“Probably, but someone’s always picking up after him, so he’s never had to stand on his own two feet before. Now, where is it you’re headed back to on this lovely Friday afternoon?”
“Santa Fe,” she said huffing out the word. “This was a mistake. I don’t know what made me think that incompetent ass could manage anything as complicated as filing papers on his own.”
Ryan’s laughter filled her ears. “I can believe that, but you aren’t coming back here until your vacation is over.”
“I have to. I’ve worked too hard to see it all go down the toilet.” She wanted to stomp her foot, but what good would it do? Pacing up and down the soft shoulder, she fought to contain her annoyance.
“Listen, Cassandra,” Ryan said, using her full name, knowing it would irritate her.
“Bite me.”
“Love to, babe, but it didn’t work when we tried it before, and Sally would have my nuts for breakfast. Call Wanda. Wonder Woman can babysit Baby Boss for a few days. If you don’t want to stay the two weeks you’d planned, fine, but the woman I know is no coward.”
“But—”
“No buts,” he interrupted. “If I find you back in Santa Fe before Labor Day, I’ll personally drag you and your cute, little ass back to your mother’s house. And you know you can’t hide from me. I’m the best gumshoe in the business.”
“Damn you. Fine, but if I lose my job because of this, you’ll be supporting me.”
He chuckled. “I could start my own harem. Listen, before we get completely off-track, I called to tell you I found the guy who filled the order for the building supplies.”
“Get out of here! So is he going to help us or not?”
“Help, big time.”
“Where was he?
“Someone paid him to take an overseas vacation, but his mother and the fear of God convinced him to tell the truth.”
“And you didn’t help persuade him?” she asked, knowing he had probably scared the dickens out of the young man in question.
“Let’s just say I showed him the error of his ways, and before you ask, I didn’t lay a finger on him.” He laughed. “I didn’t have to. My bark is worse than my bite.”
“When you put it that way, this should be all we need to get the case thrown out. How can I ever thank you?”
“By enjoying your time with your family. Hell, go hiking in those spooky mountains of yours … who knows you might stumble on that missing gold mine.”
Casey laughed. “Like that’s ever going to happen. If no one’s found the Lost Dutchman by now, it doesn’t exist.”
“Well, the legend says the man had gold under his bed when he died.”
“Right, and the Apache claim the doorway to hell is there, too, but so far, no one’s found that either.”
“You know what they say: where there’s smoke, there’s fire. Call me if things live down to your lowest expectations, and you need a laugh. Otherwise, I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”
“I will, and thanks, Ryan. You always come through, don’t you?”
Living the Dream 