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Category: Beverley Bateman

Don't Go by Beverley Bateman

Don’t Go is a dark romantic suspense that takes place predominantly in Reno. Sam is a Washoe Sheriff detective with a background of sexual abuse. Now she works in teen chatrooms to catch sexual predators.

 

A serial killer is targeting blonde teen girls in chatroms and one of the girls from Sam’s chatrooms is now missing.

 

Devlin is a Reno cop who like undercover work and doesn’t do missing kids – except they’re short staffed and he’s assigned a missing girl. He doesn’t believe in relationships and likes one night stands. Now he’s stuck working a case with a computer smart detective who obviously doesn’t do one night stands and has no use for Reno police.

 

Reluctantly, they must work together to solve this case. Can they resolve their personal issues and bring down a serial killer?

 

 
 
 

Excerpt

Hot anger burned a hole in his gut as he wrote. He shouldn’t be here with this desperate woman.

“When did you see her last?” he snapped.

Startled, the woman jerked back in her chair. Tears gushed down her hollow cheeks. “Like I said, this…this morning before she left for school, but she didn’t go to school. I don’t know why. She said she was going to school. They phoned and said she wasn’t in class. I didn’t know what to think. Why didn’t she go to school? She’s a good girl. She’s never been any trouble.”

At the woman’s reaction Dev took several deep breaths. It wasn’t her fault he was sitting here getting madder. It was the captain’s—and the flu season. He took a deep breath and slowly counted to ten. “Your husband, will he be coming down?”

“John?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m not sure.” Her eyes clouded over. “He’s…he’s at work today.”

“I see.” Dev shoved his folding metal chair back toward the wall, scraping the legs against the cheap tile covering the cement floor. The grating sound echoed through the room.

His fingers death-gripped the edge of the table, his lips clenched, he yanked himself to his feet. “Excuse me, Mrs. Morrison, I’ll be right back.”

He made it to the door in two strides. The door slammed behind him as he stomped into the corridor. His anger crashed through like a tidal wave. He pounded his fist against the wall, rattling the old photos of every bloody past Reno PD chief and city councilman since the twenties.

“What’re you doin’, O’Reilly? You ain’t finished with her.” Captain Drummond emerged from the room where he’d been watching the interrogation. The man stood over six feet, with a face like a bulldog, and a build to match. He didn’t need to raise his deep voice as it rumbled for several miles around.

No one messed with the captain.

“I couldn’t sit there with that pathetic woman any longer. I would have upset her more. I don’t do missing kids cases anymore, but I still know the drill, and the outcome. I know for a fact with younger kids, forty-four percent are dead within the first hour, seventy-five percent are dead within three hours.”

“So you know the stats. Good for you. Do you know how to work the case?”

“I know we’ve got about seventy-two hours max, to get her back alive. The mother didn’t even report her missing until now. We’ve already lost eight hours.”

“You’re right. So get going and make sure we don’t have another statistic.”

“Look captain, I need to be back in undercover, taking down some scumbag druggie in an alley, getting the information we need.”

“Right, using your gun in his mouth for persuasion? That’s not how we work. We have new ways of policing these days. You need to get with the program.”

“What? We put the criminal first and worrying about the perp’s rights instead of those of the victim. It bugs the hell out of me when some sewer scum bitch-slaps a ninety year old lady for her purse and walks because of a technicality.”

“I agree, so we have to make sure all those technicalities are covered. You need to take care of that attitude, lieutenant.”

Taller than the captain by an inch or two, and twenty years younger, Dev stared at the man parked in front of him.

“You need to get someone else to do this one, captain. I don’t do kids any more. After a few years, burnout gets to you. I do undercover now. Drug deals and murder are cases that actually bring down criminals and make a difference. Why are you assigning this woman to me?”

 

Alice lives in London, UK, with her husband and son. By day she’s a compliance manager for a pharmaceutical company. By night she writes fantasy romance about shape shifting mermen, water monsters and time-travelling witches. Her first book, “A Merman’s Choice,” was published in January 2019 by Black Velvet Seductions. It is the first book in a fantasy romance Marry in Green” is on pre order now and will be released on 1 November 2020. Alice has also written short stories: “The Sweetest Magic of All,” included in the BVS “Mystic Desire” anthology, out now, and “The Holiday Mermaid” in the BVS “second chance at love” anthology “Desire Me Again”, out 1 October 2020. Alice loves reading and writing stories, and sharing them with anyone who’s interested!  trilogy inspired by the landscapes and legends of Brittany and Wales. The second book, “Music for a Merman,” is out now and the third, “Mermaids 

Love comes in many shapes

Some odder than others! I write fantasy romance about shape shifting mermen and mermaids, witches and water monsters, but I didn’t start off that way. My career as a writer began when I got my first short story published in a magazine. It was a realistic, sweet, contemporary romance story. For the next 10 years I carried on writing romantic and family-themed stories for magazines and got quite a few published. Then I decided to try my hand at longer fiction. I tried to write contemporary romance, Harlequin style. However it didn’t work, I produced three contemporary novellas (two billionaires and a sheikh) and didn’t manage to find a publisher for any of them. Halfway through my fourth attempt (a prince), I threw in the (silk) towel and decided to try something different.

Fantasy is my first love. As a child I devoured myths and legends, especially those of Brittany in France, where I grew up, and Wales, my mother’s homeland. I also loved Tolkien, Ursula LeGuin, fairy tales… I still love fantasy now. Terry Pratchett, Robin Hobb and Neil Gaiman are some of my favourite authors. But through my short stories I had discovered that I enjoyed writing romance too. I am a romantic at heart I guess; I was lucky to meet my soulmate in 2002 and we’ve been happily married these past 15 years. So fantasy + romance = fantasy romance. My first novella in the genre, A Merman’s Choice, book 1 in the Sea of Love series, was published in January 2019 by Black Velvet Seductions. Book 2, Music for a Merman, came out in November 2019 and Book 3, Mermaids Marry in Green, is on pre order now and will be released 1 November 2020 (each book is a standalone story featuring a different couple). I am now working on the first book in my next series, Conjuring Love, which will feature time travelling warlocks and witches, demons, evil fairies, and at least one shape shifting unicorn. I have just realized that every story I wrote since Christmas 2019 has a unicorn in it. Because why put a horse in a story when you can have a horse with a big horn on its head?

Fantasy romance is very firmly classed as romance, as it has a love story at its core. But for me the “fantasy” is as important as the “romance”. My short story “The Holiday Mermaid” marries the two elements in a tender second chance romance, set at Christmas by the sea. This tale is set in the Sea of Love universe and completes the Sea of Love series. It is included in the brilliant “second chance at love” romance anthology by BVS, Desire Me Again, on pre order now for only $0.99.

Blurb For Desire Me Again anthology

The hopeless romantic believes that a soulmate exists for each of us. That there is one person who makes us feel how good it is to love them. For some couples, things trigger them to push that love away. They find out too late they’ve lost true-love. Sometimes genuine love deserves a second-chance at the happy ending that eluded them the first time.

Desire Me Again is an eclectic assortment of short stories exploring a second-chance at love. The collection is as diverse as the authors who wrote them. Here’s a chance to read the work of talented writers you may not have read before. Within these pages, there are blends of tender, often moving and thought-provoking stories.

Blurb for The Holiday Mermaid

The Holiday Mermaid, a seasonal fantasy romance by Alice Renaud : Adam fell for surfer girl Rowena the second he saw her. But just as their summer fling was becoming serious, she left him without any explanation. Now, with Christmas just a few days away, she’s back… and Adam discovers that she’s a shape-shifting mermaid, from a Clan that hates humans. Can he love her as she is? Can she brave her family to be with Adam for good, not just for Christmas?

Buy Links

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Social Media Links:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AliceRenaudAuthorRomance/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/alicerauthor

Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/alice-renaud-author-4219b6166/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/alicerenaudauthor/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18670218.Alice_Renaud

Bookbub: https://www.b ookbub.com/profile/alice-renaud

Amazon page: https://www.amazon.com/Alice-Renaud/e/B07L52P17B

Website: https://nomadauthors.com/alicerenaud/alicebooks.html  

When threats escalate, will Jim and Calista succumb, or fight for a love they can’t deny?

Release Date – October 14th, 2020

Cover Artist – Kris Norris

Publisher – The Wild Rose Press

Genre – Romantic Suspense

Word Count – 98k

Heat Rating – 5 flames

Standalone Novel

Tags – woman in jeopardy, man in jeopardy, single mom, family, violent ex, investigations, police procedural, criminals, gangs, drugs, urban romance, HEA, no cliffhangers, standalone

Blurb

Injured Parole Officer Jeremiah “Jim” Borden never expected Calista Barlow, the sassy blonde waitress he’s craved for months, to ring his doorbell. She slips into his heart—and his bed—but he’s obsessed with a gangland investigation that threatens his career and maybe even his life.

Calista doesn’t trust easily, not with a daughter to protect and the stalker who keeps calling her. After her violent ex-boyfriend returns, she finds solace in Jim’s arms.

Jim may have to forego his need for answers to protect the ready-made family he adores, but how will he and Calista escape an unseen enemy that is always one step ahead of them?

Don't Go by Beverley Bateman

Don’t Go is a dark romantic suspense that takes place predominantly in Reno. Sam is a Washoe Sheriff detective with a background of sexual abuse. Now she works in teen chatrooms to catch sexual predators.

 

A serial killer is targeting blonde teen girls in chatroms and one of the girls from Sam’s chatrooms is now missing.

 

Devlin is a Reno cop who like undercover work and doesn’t do missing kids – except they’re short staffed and he’s assigned a missing girl. He doesn’t believe in relationships and likes one night stands. Now he’s stuck working a case with a computer smart detective who obviously doesn’t do one night stands and has no use for Reno police.

 

Reluctantly, they must work together to solve this case. Can they resolve their personal issues and bring down a serial killer?

 

 
 
 

Excerpt

 

She leaned back in her chair. Her forehead squeezed against her skull, shooting barbs of pain to her eyes. The chocolate hadn’t helped the stress.

“How did I miss this one?” She punched her fist into her palm. Insidious memories crept from the dark corners of her subconscious, spun a cocoon around her and dragged her back into the dark, tangled web of her own past.

The sickening sweet smell of overpowering aftershave snaked up her nostrils; fat, sweaty palms grasped at her thighs. She knew what was going to happen. She was unable to scream, unable to escape…no one to help her.

The images crashed over her, scattering years of counseling like broken shells on a beach, covering her soul with the spray of desperation and anger.

Sam scrubbed at a tear drifting down her cheek, and forced the images back into the darkness, back into the locked box.

It’s not about me. It’s about this girl and another predator creep.

With clenched fists she white-knuckled the arms of the chair to keep from throwing the damn computer against the wall.

“Find anything?” Kerensa strolled back into the computer room, a partially eaten sugar donut in her fingers. A faint white trail drifted behind her. “They got a whole box of these out there if you want to grab one before the other detectives get back and scarf them all.”

“Damn it! I should have seen it coming. Where the hell are they?” Sam kicked her chair away from the computer and stood. “No thanks. Those things can kill you. I’d have to work out an extra hour tonight.”

“Hey, they’re no worse than that stash of chocolate you hide in your bottom drawer.”

“A girl has to have something to combat the frustration. Besides, dark chocolate is good for you.”

“Right, if you say so. You know, girlfriend, you need to learn to relax, enjoy life, and find a man who likes his woman well-padded.” Kerensa patted the green uniform shirt stretched across her protruding belly. A safety pin protected a button from popping off.

“Like Tim?” Sam allowed a faint smile to tug at the corners of her mouth. “You’re lucky. Chocolate is my replacement for men. Chocolate won’t screw with me.”

“Too bad, ’cause being a natural blonde with a great bod, you could probably get any man you wanted.”

“Yeah, right.” Sam shook her head and walked toward the door. “I’m taking a break, but not to get donuts. I need to think.”

“Take your time, girl. Hey, if there’s any of those donuts left, bring one back for me, will ya?”

Sam nodded. She rubbed her temples with her fingers, trying to exorcise the images of what the girl would go through if she met that damn creep. A sigh slithered out into the squad room as she headed toward the pot holding the day-old coffee.

“You okay?” Pete Sandusky nodded in her direction.

The acrid, slightly burnt odor of chicory and rancid coffee beans made her wrinkle her nose before she even reached the coffee maker.

She shook her head, poured a half cup of the sludge, and rested her butt against the table beside the box of sugar donuts. “No. Not really.”

With her mug clutched in both hands, she stared across at Pete. He was a good cop. He’d been there about twenty years and looked everyday of it. Gray fringe around a shiny pate; round, gold-rimmed glasses perched on a short, flat, boxer-type nose, and an inner tube that had settled around his waist under the dark green uniform.

“It’s a feeling I’ve got.” After a quick sip of the disgusting liquid she stuck out her tongue. “Yech. Why doesn’t someone throw this crap out?”

Pete shrugged. “What doesn’t feel right?”

Brenda Whiteside is the author of suspenseful, action-adventure stories with a touch of romance. Mostly. After living in six states and two countries—so far—she and her husband have decided they are gypsies at heart, splitting their time between Central Arizona and the RV life. They share their home with a rescue dog named Amigo. While FDW is fishing, Brenda writes.

  2020 Character Interview

Beverley: What’s your name?

Magpie: Magpie Muse MacKenzie and there’s a story behind my name. My brother and sister also have my mother’s maiden name for a middle name. I was born a month early, and my parents hadn’t decided on a name yet. My birth certificate was filed as Baby Muse Mackenzie. 

So, everyone called me Baby. Days before my fifth birthday, I had a sit down with my parents. I was too old to be called Baby. I was not a baby. They’d become fond of the name, but I threw such a hissy-fit and pouted so they had to relent. A couple of days later, I came in with an armload of my treasures I’d collected from around town and dumped them on the front porch, in front of my father who sat having a toke. ‘ That’s it’ , he says and lifts me up. ‘ Let’s go see your mother .’ As we’re walking to my mom’s café/bookstore, he told me about a bird found where he was born in Washington. He described a beautiful black and white bird who is very curious. When we got to my mother’s bookstore, he announced he’d found the perfect name. Magpie.

My mother wasn’t sure she liked me being named after a thieving bird. Dad explained magpies are overly curious, and it isn’t their intention to steal. When he put it to her that I flitted around town collecting other people’s castoffs, she had to acquiesce. I loved the idea of being named after a bird. That was that.

Beverley: Where did you grow up?

Magpie: Joshua, Arizona, an 1800s mining town, turned ghost town, turned hippie haven, and now a tourist town, hanging on the side of Spirit Mountain.

Beverley: During what time period does your story take place?

Magpie: Present day, but there are scenes from the 60’s as seen from my father’s point of view in my story. These memories are critical in solving the mystery.

Beverley: What’s your story/back story? Why would someone come up with a story about you?

Magpie: My mother was a mystic and renowned in Joshua. She died when I was twelve. My father took it hard, turned to alcohol, and eventually kept company with a less than respectful woman. The woman was murdered in our kitchen when I was fifteen. On the same day, my teenage boyfriend disappeared. Now, they’ve found a skeleton in The Ravine, and a tourist walks into Joshua who looks like the missing teen.

Beverley: What’s your goal in this story?

Magpie: Now that the bones have been found, buried with one of my father’s knives, he’s bound to be a suspect. I’m out to prove he didn’t murder his girlfriend or the person in the grave.

Beverley: What conflicts are you facing?

Magpie: I’ve long suspected my father did murder his girlfriend and had something to do with my boyfriend’s disappearance. But I know whatever he did was to protect me, and I’d come to peace with that. Now, I’m worried he’ll be found guilty. And the young man, Zac, who shakes my very core by his resemblance to my teen love, is experiencing d éjà vu moments and other feelings that make him believe he is somehow connected to the missing teen. Am I attracted to this man because of who he looks like or who he is?

Beverley: Do you have a plan for resolving them?

Magpie: Zac and I have a plan to prove my father’s innocence. As far as my attraction to Zac, I’m going to live in the moment and worry about the outcome after we find the real murderer.

Beverley: Is there anything else you’d like us to know about you?

Magpie: Although I didn’t inherit any of my mother’s mystical gifts, my brother, Harlan, and my sister, Elidor did. Their stories will be quite intriguing and filled with mystery and suspense.

Blurb for Secrets of the Ravine:

When a ringer for her long-dead love walks into her life the same day skeletal remains are found at the edge of town, Magpie MacKenzie can’t ignore what the universe is telling her…solve the mystery, or become the next victim.

Lawyer Zack Peartree’s life is orderly and entanglement-free until he visits purportedly haunted Joshua, Arizona, and meets free-wheeling shopkeeper Magpie. Despite experiencing troubling visions and odd moments of déjà vu, Zack’s instantly drawn to Magpie and to the unsolved murder which troubles her so.

Using clues from her father’s past and Zack’s déjà vu moments, Magpie and Zack race to solve the mystery, avoid a murderous fate, and to discover their future…together.

Buy Links for Secrets of the Ravine:

 

Social Media:

Visit Brenda at https://www.brendawhiteside.com

Or on FaceBook: https://www.facebook.com/BrendaWhitesideAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/brendawhitesid2

She blogs and has guests: https://brendawhiteside.blogspot.com/

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B003V15WF8

Goodreads Author Page: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3972045.Brenda_Whiteside

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/brenda-whiteside

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/brendawhitesideauthor/  

Most novels have an easily understood point to make to the reader, do your stories ever have more subtle or intuitive themes?

Thanks, Rhobin. This is an interesting and thought-provoking topic.

In most of my books the theme and point are usually good triumphs over evil and women can be strong heroines, capable of becoming equals to their male counterparts.

Do they have more subtle themes? In A Cruise to Remember the underlying theme was Alzheimer’s. It showed how it affected people and how they coped. And hopefully how they could still a productive life. It also discussed and show amnesia and how a victim struggled.

In other stories perhaps the small things that show how the woman develops and her strengths could be more subtle themes.

Or in Targeted, there is maybe a subtle discussion of the First Nations (Canadian term) or American Indian, and some of their history.

I’m interested in what other people do in their writing. Check them out with me.

Connie Vines  http://mizging.blogspot.com/ Judith Copek   http://lynx-sis.blogspot.com/ Diane Bator   http://dbator.blogspot.ca/ Fiona McGier   http://www.fionamcgier.com/ Dr. Bob Rich   https://wp.me/p3Xihq-22c Anne Stenhouse    http://annestenhousenovelist.wordpress.com/ Victoria Chatham   http://www.victoriachatham.com Helena Fairfax  http://www.helenafairfax.com/blog

Skye Taylor   http://www.skye-writer.com/blogging_by_the_sea

Rhobin L Courtright   http://www.rhobincourtright.com

Death Southern Style Front Cover FINAL 500 PIX

Sara’s emotionally abusive husband dies unexpectedly. She’s struggling to reclaim the intelligent, independent person she was before she married. She vows never to let a man take over her life again. Now she’s part of a special team, training to help other women.
 
Mac is has been responsible for training women in special ops techniques so they are prepared when they are challenged to save other women. When he meets Sara sparks fly between them. He wants her to quit the training and let him take care of her.
 
Sara graduates and now she and her team have to save Sara’s daughter from a serial killer. Can Mac step back and trust her in a dangerous situation? Can Sara and Mac resolve their issues, or will they go in opposite directions?

 

 

Buy links:

Excerpt

“Maybe I’ll stay for a few minutes.” Julie Ann sat down, closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair. She’d listened to that harmonica for a lot of years growing up. 

She drifted off. It had been a long day. 

Julie Ann jerked awake. “Sorry, guys, I’m almost asleep. I really have to get to bed. Thanks for dinner Savannah and the after-dinner music Charlie. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“You be careful now. We still don’t know why Perrine was killed. You’re at risk too. You see or hear anything you high tail it over here.”

“I will.” She headed out the door and checked carefully before she crossed the street.

She opened the creaky gate and stopped. The curtains in Perrine’s living room moved. A shiver proceeded down Julie Ann’s spine. She should have left a light on.

Was there someone in the house? Was she in danger? Maybe it was Mom? 

 

* * * 

 

Julie Ann glanced over her shoulder to Savannah’s house. She debated going back but decided to go inside, carefully. She inserted the key in the lock and waited. Nothing. She turned the doorknob. No visions. 

Julie Ann cautiously stepped to one side and pushed open the door. It swung back. She stepped into the room, turned on the light and looked around. No one appeared to have been there. She closed the door, locked it and dropped the key into her bag. She checked that the back door was locked, then picked up the voodoo doll she’d brought back home and climbed up the stairs to her old room. 

Her bag still over her shoulder she opened the third bedroom door. It was her room. She scanned the room. The single wooden bed, with another homemade patchwork quilt, still stood against the wall. The battered, second-hand desk with the straight back wooden chair and the hand-painted yellow dresser all brought back memories. Memories of her and Mom painting the dresser sunshine yellow, Mom reading her bedtime stories every night and Mom trying to help her with her homework at the battered desk, bubbled up inside her. 

 I’ve been an avid reader since I was five, when Mom taught me to read. I’ve always  written  stories in my head, when bored, or occupied with some other task like baking or cooking, driving, and even sleeping, since I’ve woken up with entire story arcs and well-developed characters demanding attention.  I used to think that everyone had characters  talking  to them all of the time.

A few years ago, I decided that my head was getting too crowded , and that some of the people and their stories had to be written–so they’d live in books, and readers’ heads. I feel like they are telling me their secrets, and then once the book is done, they’re happy to have been heard, so they’re quiet. But then the next characters start to talk, demanding their turn. I like the noise.

I write romances involving strong, independent women who enjoy casual flings..  Enter the equally strong, independent man who decides this is the  woman for him. He has to convince the heroine that he’s the one  for her. I love happy endings.

Character Interview for Worth the Wait

Beverley: What’s your name?

Tonisha: My given name is Tonisha Gaines, but everyone calls me by my stage name, Nisha.  My late grandfather, whom I loved a whole lot, used to call me Toni.

Beverley: Where did you grow up?

Tonisha: My parents are both rich, powerful, and politically-connected CEOs, so we lived in various mansions around the country when I was growing up. When I was a pre-teen, we moved permanently to Newport Beach in California. They’re still there, though I was living in L.A. recently.

Beverley: During what time period does your story take place?

Tonisha: The present day–before the Co-Vid pandemic.

Beverley: What’s your story/back story? Why would someone come up with a story about you?

Tonisha: I’m the only child of two driven and wealthy Black parents, so I was kind of spoiled. I was always messing around with the piano and the guitar, and writing my own music. I always wanted to be a pop star, so I had my own studio in the mansion. My plans almost got derailed when I started hearing this voice in my head, when I was fourteen. At first I didn’t tell anyone. Then when it got so I couldn’t ignore it because it was so insistent, I told my mom.  She freaked out, of course, and she and dad took me to a very expensive psychologist.  He diagnosed me with multiple personalities–schizophrenia–and started me on heavy doses of anti-psychotic drugs.  As long as I was consistent about taking them, even though the voice didn’t stop, at least I was able to ignore it–mostly. When I was 17, my parents found a manager who was supposed to be the best in the business, and signed a contract giving him license to oversee my music career.  He’s kind of a pig. We had a brief fling, but he doesn’t really like females once they get to be legal age. He’s been a domineering asshole to work for, so I get back at him by partying a lot, taking recreational drugs for fun, along with drinking too much.  Does it all interact with my maintenance drugs?  Sure.  But even though I usually can’t remember what happened the next day, I’ve been told that I have a really good time. Those are the kinds of themes I write my catchy pop songs about.  That’s been my life for the past 12 years.

Beverley: What’s your goal in this story?

Tonisha: My manager dragged me out of L.A. because it’s been a while since my last new album. I told him I write better when I have some quiet, so he rented this property in some wilderness area of Maine–of all places!  Lot of trees and critters, no night-life at all. He told me I have to write enough songs for a new CD, or he’ll end our contract. Probably not, since he’s been making so much money off of me for so many years. I just wanna have a good time.

Beverley:   What conflicts are you facing?

Tonisha: 1- I’ve been having kind of a writer’s block on new songs.  So, I’ve been doing lots of partying with the session guys my manager hired to work with me. Then I woke up this one morning lying naked in the snow, outside of a big mansion. The only warmth was coming from this really hot man who was also naked. He has the most gorgeous green eyes!

2-My manager sent me to see this local Maine psychologist who’s been giving me different drugs. I feel lots better, physically, but the voice in my head is getting louder again. Not sure that’s a good idea.

3-I have no idea how to find the sexy man with the green eyes. I don’t even remember his name! But I feel drawn to him, with these intense feelings, as if we belong together.  Totally weird, right?

Beverley: Do you have a plan for resolving them?

Tonisha: Uh, no? I don’t usually solve my own problems–my manager does. But he wants new songs, and wants me back on my old drugs.  And for me to never see the hot green-eyed man ever again, which makes me so unhappy that I’ve been writing some sad songs. He’s not gonna like that.

Beverley: Is there anything else you’d like us to know about you?

Tonisha: Do you ever hear a voice in your head? Do you listen to it, or ignore it? I really need some advice here, and I can’t talk to my parents, or anyone hired by my manager. I don’t have any friends. But I’d really like to find that sexy green-eyed man again.  Maybe he could answer my questions.

  Blurb for Worth the Wait:

   The Northwest Maine Pack is settling down since Diego, the new pack leader, is almost done healing after challenges to his leadership. His wife, Saoirse, presents him with a welcome surprise. John, son of the late pack leader, has headed out to Boston, to live with Freddie, Saoirse’s bestie, whom he met at her wedding to Diego. This leaves a gap in pack security, so Diego asks if anyone from the family of Canadian hunters is willing to fill in for him.

Grant volunteers.  He’s been haunted by the memory of the black she-wolf he saw on the pack grounds. His wolf tells him she is their mate, but he doesn’t even know what she looks like as a human.

Nathan has been without any real love in his life, since his family disowned him years ago, for telling them of his secret duality. But when his wolf senses an unfamiliar she-wolf, and they mate, the next morning, the woman has no memory of anything they did the night before.

Everyone has been waiting a long time for what they want the most. But the path to true love is rarely an easy one. Especially when you are a werewolf.

 

Excerpt from Worth the Wait:

Nathan woke up with a start, immediately aware that the chilly morning air was way too cold for two naked humans with no blanket to share. In fact, he’d been dreaming of being trapped in a refrigerator, and not only was he shaking, but so was the female his arms were draped around. Memories flooded his brain, and he looked curiously at the sleeping woman, whose back was plastered against the front of him, as they spooned while they slept.

     What should I call her? I have no idea what her name is!

      He cleared his throat, audibly.

     “Um, honey? Sweetheart? We need to move into the mansion. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s really cold out here. Our body heat melted the snow, but we’re both wet and shaking.”

     He sat up and she rolled onto her back, to give him his first look at her face.

     God! She’s gorgeous!

      Her skin was almost the same dark tan as the color of his fur when he was a wolf. Her hair was a mass of long, black curls. Her lips were full, and her lashes were long and thick. They began to flutter, as she struggled to open her eyes. Her eyes blinked open, then closed again, as the morning sun shone directly into them.

     Nathan was sitting next to her, but moved slightly, so that his body was blocking the sun that had blinded her.

     She opened her eyes again, and he was lost in the depths of their dark brown color, as she regarded him intensely for a quick moment. She sat up quickly. “What the hell? What are we doing out here in the cold?”

     Her voice was low and sexy, despite her irritation, and the chattering of her teeth. Nathan fought the urge to lean over and kiss her, and instead responded to her question.

“We fell asleep out here. I wanted us to change and go into my apartment last night, but you were so tired after our long night together, that you fell asleep out here. I didn’t want to disturb you, so I just wrapped myself around you, to generate as much body heat as we could.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “To tell the truth, I didn’t even feel the cold after I shifted. And you didn’t shift, but fell asleep right away. So I guess that’s why you didn’t feel the cold until now.”

     “And why, exactly, are we naked out here in the woods, lying in the snow? I mean, what the hell kind of party was it, anyway?”

     “Party?” he asked.

     “Yeah. I assume I met you at some party in–what did you call it? A mansion? So where’s everyone else? Didn’t anyone think to check on us, after we decided to frolic au naturale  in the snow?”

     He smiled, shaking his head. “I was running alone when I saw you, on the other side of the fence. Don’t you remember?”

     She shook her head. “Nope.”

     His eyebrows rose. “You don’t?”

     “No, and I’m freezing my ass off out here. Let’s get somewhere warm, preferably where my clothes are, and then we can chat. Maybe over some hot coffee, hopefully.”

     He got up and reached out his hands to help her. She took the hands in both of hers, to stand up, and Nathan felt as if her touch included an electrical shock to his skin. He looked into her eyes, which were now dark and stormy, reflecting her mood, and he wanted to lose himself in their depths. She was quite a bit shorter than him, with her head coming barely up to his shoulders. Her nipples were dark pebbles on the round globes of her shapely breasts. They were standing close enough that his hardening cock bouncing off of her thigh could not be missed.

     “Down, boy! I’m not into morning-after sex. Especially not when I’m in danger of losing all feeling in my fingers and toes. Let’s get into that mansion of yours and we can talk about whatever comes up.” She gave his cock a sideways smirk.

     He began to walk toward the clearing, to find his clothes. They kept up a good pace, which slightly warmed them both up. But it was still undeniably cold.

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Death Southern Style Front Cover FINAL 500 PIX

Sara’s emotionally abusive husband dies unexpectedly. She’s struggling to reclaim the intelligent, independent person she was before she married. She vows never to let a man take over her life again. Now she’s part of a special team, training to help other women.
 
Mac is has been responsible for training women in special ops techniques so they are prepared when they are challenged to save other women. When he meets Sara sparks fly between them. He wants her to quit the training and let him take care of her.
 
Sara graduates and now she and her team have to save Sara’s daughter from a serial killer. Can Mac step back and trust her in a dangerous situation? Can Sara and Mac resolve their issues, or will they go in opposite directions?

 

 

Buy links:

Excerpt

Immediately he gave himself a mental slap and tightened his grip on her large suitcase. He followed her out the door reminding himself, one, she was family of a victim. And two, he only did no string relationships. She had strings written all over her. Back off O’Reilly.

“You’re looking better. Sleep well?”

Julie Ann nodded. “I went out like a light. Thanks.”

“Did you eat breakfast?”

Julie Ann nodded. “I’m usually not much of a breakfast person, but with a busy day in front of me I ordered room service and pigged out on bacon and eggs. No grits.”

“No grits?”

“I know I’m in New Orleans, but breakfast is bad enough, let alone with grits on the plate.”

“At least you got your protein for energy. My mother says breakfast is the most important meal of the day. I’ll take the doll to forensics.”

“I want to keep the doll for now, if it’s okay. There’s someone I’d like to see it. Then I’ll turn it over to you.”

Connor hesitated. “Okay, as long as you turn it over soon.”

They headed for the elevator.

“Did they find anything voodoo at the crime scene?”

Connor shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of. Why?”

“I wondered, since someone put the doll in my room.”

The elevator slowed to a stop and Connor stepped to one side to let Julie Ann exit first. “The car’s parked out front.”

Julie Ann walked briskly through the lobby, unaware of the admiring glances from most of the men checking her out. Connor noticed though and fought the impulse to tell them to quit drooling.

On the street Julie Ann paused by his dark sedan. It was still early so the temperature was bearable, but the humidity immediately started to seep through her top. She waited for Connor to catch up so she could climb into air-conditioning. She glanced up and down the street.

Connor noticed her checking out the street. He dropped the luggage in the trunk. Someone must have followed them from the house yesterday. That’s the only way they’d know where she was. Was she checking to see if anyone was watching them today?

He needed to be aware of that possibility. He opened the passenger door and lightly touched her curls to make sure she didn’t bump her head when she slid into the seat. A warm sensation shot right to his groin.

He pulled his hand back and reminded himself again of the reasons he couldn’t get involved with a victim of a crime, especially this one.

“Slide in and I’ll get that air-conditioning going.”

“Thanks.”

Connor drove through the narrow streets, periodically checking his mirror. He found a parking spot halfway down the street from a restaurant he knew.

“Come on lady, you may not need food, but I need a coffee. It could be a rough day.” Connor took her arm as they headed to the restaurant.

Julie Ann nodded. “I could use another coffee. I’ll be okay today. Everything hasn’t really sunk in yet, except that I know it wasn’t a robbery.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just know.”

“Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Not at the moment. I have no proof.” She hesitated. “I know my mother and I’m familiar with the area. Nothing makes any sense.”

He was a cop. He went with facts. He wouldn’t understand how some things felt right or wrong. He probably thought she was a little crazy.

Sara’s emotionally abusive husband dies unexpectedly. She’s struggling to reclaim the intelligent, independent person she was before she married. She vows never to let a man take over her life again. Now she’s part of a special team, training to help other women.
 
Mac is has been responsible for training women in special ops techniques so they are prepared when they are challenged to save other women. When he meets Sara sparks fly between them. He wants her to quit the training and let him take care of her.
 
Sara graduates and now she and her team have to save Sara’s daughter from a serial killer. Can Mac step back and trust her in a dangerous situation? Can Sara and Mac resolve their issues, or will they go in opposite directions?

 

 

Buy links:

Excerpt

 

A shard of light seeped through a crack in the curtains and slid across Julie Ann’s face. She absently brushed her hand over her cheek, to get rid of the sensation. It didn’t work. She struggled to open her eyes. She focused on the ceiling. Her mind spun in circles. She didn’t recognize the room. Nothing looked familiar. Where was she? How did she get here?

The sounds of garbage cans smashed against trucks and pavement. Water sloshed against curbs. The sounds permeating the room brought back familiar memories. The water was to clean the streets after last night’s revelry. She was back in New Orleans, in the French Quarter. She didn’t know of anyplace else where they cleaned the streets every morning. 

Reality crushed around her. Her mother was dead. She’d been shot. 

The garbage truck moved ahead, and more cans banged. 

Her mother had occasionally got up early and took Julie Ann for a walk through the streets to get fresh beignets from Café Du Monde. They’d strolled past those street cleaners and jumped over water to avoid getting wet from the hoses spraying the gutters.

Her mother had gripped Julie Ann’s hand tightly and made up stories about what might have happened the night before. The stories included voodoo queens and ghosts who might have walked through the streets. 

The memory caused a severe ache in her chest. She reached for that warm spot she’d found last night. This morning it was cold. She wrapped her arms around herself, holding in the heartache. She’d forgotten about those times. Love for her mother flooded over her. Mom and the French Quarter had provided her with so many wonderful memories. 

She’d buried them when she’d left New Orleans. She’d got caught up in the rush and development of a successful business in the city of New York. She should have come home before this. She’d forgotten how much she’d loved New Orleans, but it was coming back. 

The events of the last two days flooded over her like a tsunami; Mom’s death, the flight to New Orleans, the yellow tape and Deputy Sheriff O’Reilly – Connor. 

She closed her eyes and pulled the covers over her head to block out the bad memories, but the heaviness sitting on her chest didn’t go away. An overwhelming sadness filled her whole body, but she didn’t cry. She’d dried up. 

The person she loved most in her life was gone and she couldn’t even cry for her anymore. Her throat squeezed shut and blocked the tears that pushed against the barricade like water against a dam. The pain was excruciating; even swallowing didn’t relieve the pain. She moved her hand across the sheet again, but no one squeezed back this morning. 

Julie Ann threw the covers back and pushed her feet to the floor. She had to get showered and ready for Deputy… Connor. A ghost of a smile flashed across her lips as she thought about the linebacker-sized policeman with kind, amazing Irish green eyes, who’d carried her to her room and ordered food because she hadn’t eaten. He said he’d pick her up at ten. He looked like the punctual type. 

She started toward the bathroom and stopped. Her smile dissipated. Her stomach clenched. 

In the corner of one of the chairs sat a small voodoo doll, with blonde hair and a small hole with a drop of red surrounding the heart area. 

How had it got there? How had anyone slid into the room? Why did someone leave it for her? 

She hurried to the door. It was locked. So was the window. She reached for the hotel phone and lifted the receiver. She replaced it. Deputy Sheriff Conner would be here soon, probably already on his way. Besides, if someone got into her room, the hotel staff might be involved. 

She hadn’t been hurt – yet. Was the doll a warning? It was obviously meant for her. Did they expect her to run back to New York?

Anger flared and she grabbed the damn doll and slammed it against the wall. A vision flashed before her when she touched the doll. It was a group, not one person. They were blurry. She didn’t recognize anyone. 

She stared down at the doll. She recalled her mother taking her to a small shop. The woman had them join hands. She’d lit a flame, passed their hands over it and recited some kind of spell. Perrine had said something about a vision or passing on a vision. The memory was foggy, and Julie Ann had no idea what her mother meant. 

Was this it? She’d had flashes occasionally but brushed them away. They were usually about her or someone she knew. If she ever mentioned them in New York, people raised their eyebrows and made some comment about seeing a psychiatrist. So, she tried to bury the visions, or at least not mention them. 

Julie Ann picked up the doll and held it. She closed her eyes. Again, there was a flash of a man and behind him several people. They were so blurred it was hard to make out any features, even if they were male or female. The one in front was definitely male. She’d never seen him before. 

The images faded. She only felt emptiness.