I’ve brought along my new release from Evernight Publishing, ‘A Little Mysterious’. This is a very steamy book, despite the poetic blurb, and my new release from Hot Ink Press, ‘Forever Blue’, which is so hot it might be called forever red. Both are 18+ books and I’ve brought along sexy excerpts today.
He’d been sent off course…he thought he was lost…until he found Daisy.
His vampire abilities were special. He belonged to an elite group. Moving home, they are set off course by a storm that lands Dhruv alone, hungry, and desperate in a strange town.
A story of lust, love, and coincidence.
*****
The character, Dhruv, is sexy, dangerous, and mysterious.
Here’s an excerpt it’s steamy. We need to warm up winter somehow.
“Let’s sit for a while. You can tell me about yourself.”
He watched as she placed her bag down on the pebble path, then sit down on the park bench. He sat close and breathed her in. She turned to him. There was hunger in her eyes. He knew that look. She desired him. It was strong and matched his hunger. He sighed. She was so pretty and he wanted to fuck her right then. Take her on the pebble path.
He let himself think about stripping her naked and licking her all over. He imagined stroking her stomach and then her clit. She would be wet for him, and his fingers would slide into her creamy pussy. She would moan and writhe under him, coming over and over, as he fucked her all night.
I need to feed, but not from her. I need her in a different way. I need to fuck her so hard I can’t think any more.
“Daisy…”
His voice was low and deliberately soothing. He took her hand, watching her face, waiting to see the look in her eyes that meant she was afraid of his cold touch. It didn’t come. As he took her hand, and traced his fingertips around the palm of her hand and over her fingers, she closed her eyes in pleasure, leaning toward him. Dhruv bent his head and kissed her.
Copyright Elodie Parkes 2013
*****
‘Forever Blue’ has a different kind of hero, whilst Dhruv is alpha, Jasper in ‘Forever Blue’ my December 20 release is a sweetheart. He’s still incredibly sexy and masculine. Something strange has happened to him and it changes him.
Claudie loves living in the countryside and close to the forests. She’s a filmmaker and works for the wildlife trust. One night she steps onto her patio and sees a man sheltering there. She confronts him and he runs away.
Jasper has watched Claudie for a year. He fell in love with her, but he has a secret, one that might mean he can never approach her.
Will love and fate find a way?
Excerpt:
She looked up into his gorgeous face.
He was propped on one elbow, and smiled at her again. He traced his fingers down her stomach to rest tantalizingly just above where she wanted them to be.
She lifted her hips to him, hoping his hand would slip down and he’d feel how wet she was, how much she needed him.
He closed his eyes as he leaned toward her face and kissed her tenderly. His fingers slid along her wet pussy and then he pushed them into her.
His thumb was against her clit, pressing deliciously. Claudie purred against his lips as they kissed. She rocked against the palm of his hand to have his fingers deeper inside her pussy. She held his shoulder muscles and moaned into his mouth. Her orgasm was building rapidly and she thrust her hips to his pumping.
Against her mouth, he whispered, “Come for me. I’m crazy about you. You feel so good.”
The words filtered through her lust numbed mind as she dug her fingernails into his back when she came, gasping at the intensity of the orgasm.
Jasper removed his fingers gently and lay between her legs.
Claudie ran her fingertips up and down the sides of his body. “Thrust into me.” Her voice made throaty from his nearness, his cock between her thighs, and the way her clit still pulsed.
“Oh, I will.” Jasper whispered into her ear.
A shiver of pleasure ran down to her breasts as he licked her ear. He trailed his tongue down her neck to suck as he slowly pushed his hard thick cock into her pussy. The feel of him, inch after inch, slowly filling her until he gave a final hard thrust was delicious. She held him tight and reached to suck at his neck the way he sucked at hers.
They both softly moaned as they sucked and in unison brought their mouths together to kiss each other slowly, tenderly and then hungrily.
Jasper thrust his cock in and out of her fast and hard. Then he slowed down and raising himself on his knees, he lifted her hips and looked into her eyes.
Claudie’s eyes were only half-open. They were heavy with lust. She felt drugged with sex, but she saw his eyes, and thought they were full of tenderness.
His thrusts were slow as he held her hips and his cock grazed her swollen clit. His hands possessed her hips and he fucked her until she came again moaning his name. Jasper held her under her bottom and pulled her hard onto his cock.
Claudie heard him groan, and then he pounded his cock into her as he came. She opened her eyes to see him come. His eyes were closed and his head thrown back a little. He looked erotic, beautiful, so sexy, and she sighed with pleasure. He’s so gorgeous. I think I’m falling in love with him, or falling in sex with him. I might love him soon. Her thoughts made her smile.
Jasper opened his eyes and gazed at her. He still held her under the bottom. His cock pulsed in her pussy. He smiled. “I’m falling in love with you.” His voice was soft and low.
Copyright Elodie Parkes 2013
About Elodie
Elodie Parkes is a British author writing romance, erotic, contemporary, and often with a twist of mystery, paranormal or suspense. Her books are always steamy, cool stories and hot love scenes.
Elodie lives in Canterbury with her two dogs. She works in an antique shop by day and writes at night, loving the cloak of silent darkness that descends on the rural countryside around her home.
TITLE: First Bite
SERIES #: Dark Wolf #1
CHARACTERS: Travis Williamson & Neva Ross
AUTHOR: Dani Harper
NARRATOR: Veronica Muench
PUBLICATION DATE: October 15, 2013
ORDER LINKS: Amazon | B&N | Audible
BOOK SYNOPSIS:
Geneva “Neva” Ross doesn’t want to die. But now that she’s been turned into a werewolf against her will, she’ll do anything to protect her family and friends…even if that means taking her own life.
After witnessing Neva’s leap from a high ledge, Travis Williamson—a Changeling with a dark past—uses his powers to save her life. He feels a connection to the strong-willed woman whose eyes flash that familiar Changeling green. While Neva is hospitalized, Travis risks everything to kidnap her, knowing the approaching full moon will put everyone in jeopardy.
Bickering constantly to hide their growing attraction, Travis and Neva run from the authorities…and from Neva’s sinister sire, Meredith de la Ronde. Meredith delights in creating new shape-shifters and compelling them to do her dark bidding; now Neva must join Meredith’s murderous wolf pack…or die.
Intensely suspenseful with deliciously sexy twists, this paranormal romance—the first in (the title of series)—intertwines sensual passion with an epic, thrilling battle between good and evil.
REVIEW:
I am kinda on the fence about this book. I liked the story line. I liked Neva & Travis and a few of the other side characters. Meredith is one crazy, evil, magic wielding bad guy. And all in all it was a good book, but there was just something a little off for me. Maybe be it was the timeline. Maybe it was Meredith and her getting the upper hands. Maybe it was my mood. Or maybe it was the narrator. I was not overly wild about the narrator at times she was a little too nasally for me and the audio book had some major fluctuations in the sound and quality of the book. Even with all I will be continuing this series to see what happens with Neva, Travis, Meredith and everyone else. But the next book I think I will read.
Disclaimer:
This review is my own opinion and not a paid review.
TITLE: Veiled
SERIES #: Bone Secret #3.5 (a novella)
CHARACTERS: Jack Harper & Lacey Campbell
AUTHOR: Kendra Elliot
PUBLICATION DATE: December 4, 2013
ORDER LINKS: Amazon
BOOK SYNOPSIS:
Forensic investigator Lacey Campbell is trying to relax. She and her fiancé have escaped to a high-end resort on the Oregon Coast that they’re scoping out for their wedding venue. But when a murdered woman turns up in the hot tub, there’s no more relaxing for the couple. Neither can resist getting pulled into the case.
Tragically, the dead woman is dressed in a wedding gown, even more disturbing for Lacey given she’s about to be a bride. When the victim turns out to be a beloved bartender with a bad-news ex-husband, it looks like a domestic quarrel turned deadly. But could there be something more sinister going on in this tight-knit community?
REVIEW:
4.5 Hearts Another great story from Kendra. It was fun to see Jack & Lacey again even if it is not under the best of circumstances. Because really nothing can ruin a vacation like finding a dead body and be through head first in a murder investigation.
I am not going to give you more than that. This is a novella and I don’t want to give too much away. This novella can easily be read as a stand alone, although if you have not read book 1 you might want to read it. Jack & Lacey are from book 1 Hidden.
Disclaimer:
I received a complimentary copy of the book in exchange for an honest review. This review is my own opinion and not a paid review.
A poet and fiction writer, my work has been published in Poet Lore, Crystal Clear and Cloudy, and Flying Colors Anthology. I am a past attendee of Pikes Peak Writer’s Conferences and the Association of Writers and Writing Programs, and a member of Lighthouse Writer’s Workshop in Denver, Colorado. In addition, I am/was a licensed professional counselor and psychotherapist, who for many years counseled perpetrators of domestic violence and sex offenders, and provided psychotherapy for individuals, groups and families. I hold a master’s degree in contemplative psychotherapy from NaropaUniversity in Boulder, Colorado.
I was born in Kentucky but soon after my parents moved to Detroit. Detroit was where I grew up. As a kid I visited relatives in Kentucky, once for a six-week period, which included a stay with my grandparents. In the novel’s acknowledgements I did assert the usual disclaimers having to do with the fact that Then Like The Blind Man was and is a work of fiction, i.e., a made up story whose characters and situations are fictional in nature (and used fictionally) no matter how reminiscent of characters and situations in real life. That’s a matter for legal departments, however, and has little to do with subterranean processes giving kaleidoscopic-like rise to hints and semblances from memory’s storehouse, some of which I selected and disguised for fiction. That is to say, yes, certain aspects of my history did manifest knowingly at times, at times spontaneously and distantly, as ghostly north-south structures, as composite personae, as moles and stains and tears and glistening rain and dark bottles of beer, rooms of cigarette smoke, hay lofts and pigs. Here’s a quote from the acknowledgements that may serve to illustrate this point.
“Two memories served as starting points for a short story I wrote that eventually became this novel. One was of my Kentucky grandmother as she emerged from a shed with a white chicken held upside down in one of her strong bony hands. I, a boy of nine and a “city slicker” from Detroit, looked on in wonderment and horror as she summarily wrung the poor creature’s neck. It ran about the yard frantically, yes incredibly, as if trying to locate something it had misplaced as if the known world could be set right again, recreated, if only that one thing was found. And then of course it died. The second memory was of lantern light reflected off stones that lay on either side of a path to a storm cellar me and my grandparents were headed for one stormy night beneath a tornado’s approaching din. There was wonderment there too, along with a vast and looming sense of impending doom.”
I read the usual assigned stuff growing up, short stories by Poe, The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, The Scarlet Letter, The Cherry Orchard, Hedda Gabler, a little of Hemingway, etc. I also read a lot of Super Hero comic books (also Archie and Dennis the Menace) and Mad Magazine was a favorite too. I was also in love with my beautiful third grade teacher and to impress her pretended to read Gulliver’s Travels for which I received many delicious hugs.
It wasn’t until much later that I read Huckleberry Finn. I did read To Kill A Mockingbird too. I read Bastard Out of Carolina and The Secret Life of Bees. I saw the stage play of Hamlet and read The Story of Edgar Sawtelle too. However, thematic similarities to these works occurred to me only after I was already well into the writing of Then Like The Blind Man. Cormac McCarthy, Pete Dexter, Carson McCullers, Raymond Carver, Flannery O’Conner and Joyce Carol Oates, to name but a few, are among my literary heroes and heroines. Tone and style of these writers have influenced me in ways I’d be hard pressed to name, though I think the discerning reader might feel such influences as I make one word follow another and attempt to “stab the heart with…force” (a la Isaac Babel) by placing my periods (hopefully, sometimes desperately) ‘… just at the right place’.
A storm is brewing in the all-but-forgotten backcountry of Kentucky. And, for young Orbie Ray, the swirling heavens may just have the power to tear open his family’s darkest secrets. Then Like The Blind Man: Orbie’s Story is the enthralling debut novel by Freddie Owens, which tells the story of a spirited wunderkind in the segregated South of the 1950s and the forces he must overcome to restore order in his world. Rich in authentic vernacular and evocative of a time and place long past, this absorbing work of magical realism offered up with a Southern twist will engage readers who relish the Southern literary canon, or any tale well told.
Nine-year-old Orbie already has his cross to bear. After the sudden death of his father, his mother Ruby has off and married his father’s coworker and friend Victor, a slick-talking man with a snake tattoo. Since the marriage, Orbie, his sister Missy, and his mother haven’t had a peaceful moment with the heavy-drinking, fitful new man of the house. Orbie hates his stepfather more than he can stand; this fact lands him at his grandparents’ place in Harlan’s Crossroads, Kentucky, when Victor decides to move the family to Florida without including him. In his new surroundings, Orbie finds little to distract him from Granpaw’s ornery ways and constant teasing jokes about snakes.
As Orbie grudgingly adjusts to life with his doting Granny and carping Granpaw, who are a bit too keen on their black neighbors for Orbie’s taste, not to mention their Pentecostal congregation of snake handlers, he finds his world views changing, particularly when it comes to matters of race, religion, and the true cause of his father’s death. He befriends a boy named Willis, who shares his love of art, but not his skin color. And, when Orbie crosses paths with the black Choctaw preacher, Moses Mashbone, he learns of a power that could expose and defeat his enemies, but can’t be used for revenge. When a storm of unusual magnitude descends, he happens upon the solution to a paradox that is both magical and ordinary. The question is, will it be enough?
Equal parts Hamlet and Huckleberry Finn, it’s a tale that’s both rich in meaning, timely in its social relevance, and rollicking with boyhood adventure. The novel mines crucial contemporary issues, as well as the universality of the human experience while also casting a beguiling light on boyhood dreams and fears. It’s a well-spun, nuanced work of fiction that is certain to resonate with lovers of literary fiction, particularly in the grand Southern tradition of storytelling.
Discuss this book in our PUYB Virtual Book Club at Goodreads by clicking HERE.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Title: Then Like the Blind Man: Orbie’s Story Author: Freddie Owens Publisher: Blind Sight Publications Pages: 332 Language: English Genre: Historical Fiction/Coming of Age Format: Paperback & eBook
A storm is brewing in the all-but-forgotten backcountry of Kentucky. And, for young Orbie Ray, the swirling heavens may just have the power to tear open his family’s darkest secrets. Then Like The Blind Man: Orbie’s Story is the enthralling debut novel by Freddie Owens, which tells the story of a spirited wunderkind in the segregated South of the 1950s and the forces he must overcome to restore order in his world. Rich in authentic vernacular and evocative of a time and place long past, this absorbing work of magical realism offered up with a Southern twist will engage readers who relish the Southern literary canon, or any tale well told.
Nine-year-old Orbie already has his cross to bear. After the sudden death of his father, his mother Ruby has off and married his father’s coworker and friend Victor, a slick-talking man with a snake tattoo. Since the marriage, Orbie, his sister Missy, and his mother haven’t had a peaceful moment with the heavy-drinking, fitful new man of the house. Orbie hates his stepfather more than he can stand; this fact lands him at his grandparents’ place in Harlan’s Crossroads, Kentucky, when Victor decides to move the family to Florida without including him. In his new surroundings, Orbie finds little to distract him from Granpaw’s ornery ways and constant teasing jokes about snakes.
As Orbie grudgingly adjusts to life with his doting Granny and carping Granpaw, who are a bit too keen on their black neighbors for Orbie’s taste, not to mention their Pentecostal congregation of snake handlers, he finds his world views changing, particularly when it comes to matters of race, religion, and the true cause of his father’s death. He befriends a boy named Willis, who shares his love of art, but not his skin color. And, when Orbie crosses paths with the black Choctaw preacher, Moses Mashbone, he learns of a power that could expose and defeat his enemies, but can’t be used for revenge. When a storm of unusual magnitude descends, he happens upon the solution to a paradox that is both magical and ordinary. The question is, will it be enough?
Equal parts Hamlet and Huckleberry Finn, it’s a tale that’s both rich in meaning, timely in its social relevance, and rollicking with boyhood adventure. The novel mines crucial contemporary issues, as well as the universality of the human experience while also casting a beguiling light on boyhood dreams and fears. It’s a well-spun, nuanced work of fiction that is certain to resonate with lovers of literary fiction, particularly in the grand Southern tradition of storytelling.
CHAPTER ONE
EVERYBODY ON EDGE
Thursday, June 6th 1959
Momma and even Victor said I’d be coming to St. Petersburg with them. They’d been saying it for weeks. Then Victor changed his mind. He was my stepdaddy, Victor was. It would be easier on everybody, he said, if I stayed with Granny and Granpaw in Kentucky. Him and Momma had enough Florida business to take care of without on top of everything else having to take care of me too. I was a handful, Victor said. I kept everybody on edge. If you asked me, the only edge everybody was kept on was Victor’s. As far as I was concerned, him and Momma could both go to hell. Missy too. I was fed up trying to be good. Saying everything was okay when it wasn’t. Pretending I understood when I didn’t.
Momma’s car was a 1950 model. Daddy said it was the first Ford car to come automatic. I didn’t know what ‘automatic’ was but it sure had silver ashtrays, two of them on the back of the front seats. They were all popped open with gum wrappers and cigarette butts and boy did they smell.
One butt fell on top a bunch of comic books I had me in a pile. The pile leaned cockeyed against my dump truck. Heat came up from there, little whiffs of tail pipe smoke, warm and stuffy like the insides of my tennis shoes.
It rattled too – the Ford car did. The glove box. The mirrors. The windows. The knobs on the radio. The muffler under the floorboard. Everything rattled.
We’d been traveling hard all day, barreling down Road 3 from Detroit to Kentucky. Down to Harlan’s Crossroads. I sat on the edge of the back seat, watching the fence posts zoom by. Missy stood up next to the side window, sucking her thumb, the fingers of her other hand jammed between her legs. She was five years old. I was nine.
I’d seen pictures of Florida in a magazine. It had palm trees and alligators and oranges. It had long white beaches and pelicans that could dive-bomb the water. Kentucky was just old lonesome farmhouses and brokeback barns. Gravel roads and chickens in the yard.
Road 3 took us down big places like Fort Wayne and Muncie. It took us down a whole bunch of little places too, places with funny names like Zaneville and Deputy and Speed.
Missy couldn’t read.
“Piss with care,” I said.
“Oh Orbie, you said a bad word.”
“No. Piss with care, Missy. That sign back there. That’s what it said.”
Missy’s eyes went wide. “It did not. Momma’ll whip you.”
Later on we got where there was a curve in the road and another sign. “Look Missy. Do not piss.”
“It don’t say that.”
“Yes it does. See. When the road goes curvy like that you’re not supposed to pee. But when it’s straight, it’s okay; but you have to do it careful cause that’s what the sign says. Piss with care!”
“It don’t say that.”
“Does too.”
We crossed a big pile of water on a bridge with towers and giant ropey things looping down. On the other side was Louisville, Kentucky. After that was just small towns and little white stores with red gas-pumps, farm houses and big barns and fields, empty fields and fields of corn and fields where there were cows and horses and pigs and long rows of tobacco plants Momma said cigarettes was made of.
I had me a war on all the towns going down.
Tat Tat Tat Tat! Blam! There goes Cox Creek!
Bombs away over Nazareth!
Blam! Blam! Boom! Hodgekinsville never had a chance!
“Let’s keep it down back there!” Victor said.
“A grenade rolled into Victor’s lap!” I whispered. “BlamOOO! Blowed him to smithereens!”
I wished Momma’d left him back there in Toledo like she said she would. She was always threatening around like that, but then she would get to feeling sorry and forget all about it. She’d been mad ever since Victor spilled the beans about Daddy. Victor was mad too, drinking his beer and driving Momma’s Ford too fast. After Louisville he started throwing his empties out the window.
I liked to watch them bust on the road.
“Pretty country, Kentucky,” Victor said.
**
It was the end of daytime and a big orangey-gold sun ball hung way off over the hills, almost touching the trees. The Ford jerked over a ditch at the foot of a patchy burnt yard, thundering up a load of bubble noises before Victor shut it down.
“Get off me,” Missy said.
“I ain’t bothering you.”
“Yes you are.”
“But Missy, look!”
A big boned woman in a housedress had come to stand in the yard down by the well. She was looking into the sun – orange light in her face – standing upright, sharp edged and stiff, like an electrical tower, one arm bent like a triangle, the other raised with the elbow so the hand went flat out over her eyes like a cap. She stared out of wrinkles and scribbles and red leather cheekbones. Her nose was sunburned, long but snubbed off at the end, sticking out above a mouth that had no lips, a crack that squirmed and changed itself from long to short and back to long again.
Missy’s eyes widened. “Who is that?”
“Granny,” I said. “Don’t you remember?”
I saw Granpaw too, sitting squat-legged against Granny’s little Jesus Tree. He was turning in one big hand a piece of wood, shaving it, whittling it outward with a jackknife. The brim of a dusty Panama shadowed his eyes. In back of him stood the house, balanced on little piles of creek rock. You could see jars and cans and other old junk scattered underneath. It was the same dirty white color as before, the house was, but the sun ball had baked it orange, and now I could see at one end where somebody had started to paint.
As we got out of the car, the big boned figure in the housedress let out with a whoop, hollering, “Good God A Mighty! If it tain’t Ruby and them younguns of hers! Come all the way down here from Dee-troit!” Blue-green veins bulged and tree-limbed down the length of her arms.
Victor stayed out by the Ford, the round top of my ball cap hanging out his pocket. A gas station man had given it to me on the way down. It was gray and had a red winged horse with the word ‘Mobilgas’ printed across the front. Victor had swiped it away, said I shouldn’t be accepting gifts from strangers. I should have asked him about it first. Now it was in his back pocket, crushed against the Ford’s front fender where he leaned with an unlit cigar, rolling between his lips. The sun was in back of him, halfway swallowed up by a distant curvy line of hilltop trees.
“Hidy Victor!” Granny called. “Ya’ll have a good trip?”
Victor put on a smooth voice. “Fine Mrs. Wood. Real fine. You can’t beat blue grass for beauty, can you?” A long shadow stretched out on the ground in front of him.
Granny laughed. “Ain’t been no farther than Lexington to know!”
Granpaw changed his position against the tree, leaned forward a little bit and spat a brown gob, grunting out the word ‘shit’ after he did. He dragged the back of his knife hand sandpaper-like over the gap of his mouth.
“I want you just to looky here!” Granny said. “If tain’t Missy-Two-Shoes and that baby doll of hers!”
Missy backed away.
“Aw, Missy now,” Momma said. “That’s Granny.”
Missy smiled then and let Granny grab her up. Her legs went around Granny’s waist. She had on a pink Sunday dress with limp white bows dangling off its bottom, the back squashed and wadded like an overused hankie.
“How’s my little towhead?” Granny said.
“Good.” Missy held out her baby doll. “This is Mattie, Granny. I named her after you.”
“Well ain’t you the sweetest thang!” Granny grinned so big her wrinkles went out in circles like water does after a stone’s dropped in. She gave Missy a wet kiss and set her down. Then her grin flashed toward Momma. “There’s my other little girl!”
Momma, no taller than Granny’s chin, did a little toe dance up to her, smiling all the way. She hugged Granny and Granny in turn beat the blue and red roses on the back of Momma’s blouse.
“I just love it to death!” Granny said. “Let me look at you!” She held Momma away from her. Momma wiggled her hips; slim curvy hips packed up neat in a tight black skirt. She kissed the air in front of Granny.
Like Marilyn Monroe. Like in the movies.
“Jezebel!” Granny laughed. “You always was a teaser.”
They talked about the trip to Florida, about Victor’s prospects – his good fortune, his chance – about Armstrong and the men down there and that Pink Flamingo Hotel. They talked about Daddy too, and what a good man he’d been.
“It liked to’ve killed us all, what happened to Jessie,” Granny said.
“I know Mamaw. If I had more time, I’d go visit him awhile.” Momma looked out over the crossroads toward the graveyard. I looked too but there was nothing to see now, nothing but shadows and scrubby bushes and the boney black limbs of the cottonwood trees. I remembered what Victor’d said about the nigger man, about the crane with the full ladle.
“I want you just to look what the cat’s drug in Mattie!” Granpaw had walked over from his place by the tree.
“Oh Papaw!” Momma hugged Granpaw’s rusty old neck and kissed him two or three times.
“Shoo! Ruby you’ll get paint all over me!”
Momma laughed and rubbed at a lip mark she’d left on his jaw.
“How you been daughter?”
“All right I reckon,” Momma said. She looked back toward Victor who was still up by the Ford. Victor took the cigar out of his mouth. He held it to one side, pinched between his fingers.
“How’s that car running Victor?” Granpaw called.
“Not too bad, Mr. Wood,” Victor answered, “considering the miles we’ve put on her.”
Granpaw made a bunch of little spit-spit sounds, flicking them off the end of his tongue as he did. He hawked up another brown gob and let it fall to the ground, then he gave Victor a nod and walked over. He walked with a limp, like somebody stepping off in a ditch, carrying the open jackknife in one hand and that thing, whatever it was he’d been working on, in the other.
Granny’s mouth got hard. “Ruby, I did get that letter of yorn. I done told you it were all right to leave that child. I told you in that other letter, ‘member?”
“You sure it’s not any trouble?” Momma said.
Granny’s eyes widened. “Trouble? Why, tain’t no trouble a-tall.” She looked over my way. “I want you just to look how he’s growed! A might on the skinny side though.”
“He’ll fill out,” Momma said.
“Why yes he will. Come youngun. Come say hello to your old Granny.”
“Orbie, be good now,” Momma said.
I went a little closer, but I didn’t say hello.
“He’ll be all right,” Granny said.
“I hope so Mamaw. He’s been a lot of trouble over this.“
Veins, blue rivers, tree roots, flooded down Granny’s gray legs. More even than on her arms. And you could see white bulges and knots and little red threads wiggling out. “I’ll bet you they’s a lot better things going on here than they is in Floridy,” she said. “I bet you, if you had a mind to, Granpaw would show you how to milk cows and hoe tobacco. I’ll learn you everything there is to know about chickens. Why, you’ll be a realfarm hand before long!”
“I don’t wanna be no damned farm hand,” I said.
“Boy, I’ll wear you out!” Momma said. “See what I mean, Mamaw?”
“He’ll be all right,” Granny said.
The sun was on its way down. Far to the east of it two stars trailed after a skinny slice of moon. I could see Old Man Harlan’s Country Store across the road, closed now, but with a porch light burning by the door.
A ruckus of voices had started up by the Ford, Granpaw and Victor trying to talk at the same time. They’d propped the Ford’s hood up with a stick and were standing out by the front.
Victor had again taken up his place, leaning back against the front fender, crushing my ball cap. “That’s right, that’s what I said! No good at all.” He held the cigar shoulder level – lit now – waving it with his upraised arm one side to the other. “The Unions are ruining this country, Mr. Wood. Bunch of meddlesome, goddamned troublemakers. Agitators, if you catch my drift.” He took a pull on the cigar then blew the smoke over Granpaw’s head.
Granpaw was stout-looking but a whole head shorter than Victor. He stood there in his coveralls, doubled up fists hanging at the end of each arm, thick as sledgehammers – one with the open jackknife, the other with that thing he’d been working on. “Son, you got a problem?”
“The rank and file,” Victor said. “They’re the problem! They’ll believe anything the goddamn Union tells them.”
Granpaw leaned over and spat. “You don’t know nothin’.”
“Anything,” Victor said.
“What?”
Victor took the cigar out of his mouth and smiled. “I don’t know anything is what you mean to say. It’s proper grammar.”
“I know what I aim to say,” Granpaw said, “I don’t need no northern jackass a tellin’ me.” Granpaw’s thumb squeezed against the jackknife blade.
Cut him Granpaw! Knock that cigar out his mouth!
“Strode!” Granny shouted. “Come away from there!”
Momma hurried over. “Victor, I told you.”
“I was just sharing some of my thoughts with Mr. Wood here,” Victor said. “He took it the wrong way, that’s all. He doesn’t understand.”
“I understand plenty, City Slicker.” Granpaw closed the knife blade against his coveralls and backed away.
“Ain’t no need in this Strode!” Granny said. “Victor’s come all the way down here from Dee-troit. He’s company. And you a man of God!”
“I’ll cut him a new asshole, he keeps on that a way,” Granpaw said.
Momma was beside herself. “Apologize Victor. Apologize to Papaw for talking that way.”
“For telling the truth?”
“For insulting him!”
Victor shook his head. “You apologize. You’re good at that.”
Over where the sun had gone down the sky had turned white-blue. Fireflies winked around the roof of the well, around the branches of the Jesus Tree. Victor walked around to the front of the car and slammed the hood down harder than was necessary. “Come on Orbie! Time to get your stuff!”
I couldn’t believe it was about to happen, even though I’d been told so many times it was going to. I started to cry.
“Get down here!” Victor yelled.
Momma met me at the car. She took out a hankerchief and wiped at my tears. She looked good. She always looked good.
“I don’t want you to go,” I said.
“Oh now,” Momma said. “Let’s not make Victor any madder than he already is, okay?” She helped bring my things from the car. I carried my tank and my box of army men and crayons. Momma brought my dump truck, the toy cars, my comic books and drawing pad. We put them all on the porch where Missy sat playing with her doll. Momma hugged me one last time, got Missy up in her arms and headed to the car.
Victor was already behind the wheel, gunning the engine. “Come on Ruby! Let’s go!”
“You just hold on a minute!” Momma put Missy in the car and turned to hug Granny. “Bye Mamaw.”
“Goodbye Sweetness. I hope you find what you’re looking for down there.”
“Right now I’d settle for a little peace of mind,” Momma said; then she hugged Granpaw. “I’m real sorry about Victor Papaw.”
Granpaw nodded. “You be careful down there in Floridy.”
“Bye Momma! Bye Missy!” I yelled.
Momma closed her door and Victor backed out. I hurried down to where Granny and Granpaw were standing. The Ford threw dust and gravels as it fishtailed up the road.
Granpaw tapped me on the shoulder. “This one’s for you son,” he said and handed down the piece he’d been working on. It was a little cross of blond wood about a foot high with a burnt snake draped lengthwise along its shoulders. Granpaw moved his finger over the snake’s curvy body. “Scorched that in there with a hot screw driver, I did.”
It was comical in a way, but strange too; I mean to make a snake there – right where Jesus was supposed to be. Like most everything else in my life, it made no sense at all. Momma’s Ford had disappeared over the hill. Pale road-dust moved like a ghost into the cornfields under the half-dark sky. It drifted back toward the skull of Granpaw’s barn, back toward the yard. I stood there watching it all, listening as Momma’s Ford rumbled away.
Most of my experience with fairies in fiction comes either from fairy tales or from children’s books, yet I have always loved the old fairy lore. When growing up as well as the usual fairy tales, I also had a couple of books with fairy tales from around the world. In the ones where fairies featured they were always tricksters and never to be trusted…and yet they quiet often revealed a person’s true heart.
My love of all things fairy was amplified when I was given a set of the Fairy Ring Oracle cards and I discovered even more fairies and their background (which of course led to more research…).
But it was several more years before I had an idea for a fairy story. While I knew there were other fairy paranormal romances out there, I hadn’t actually read any. However I think there is enough fairy lore out there for writers to put their own spin on things (much like has been done with vampires).
Because my stories tend to be on the darker side I knew I was going to draw on the old legends where fairies were powerful and to be feared. They ruled the underworld and loved to trick humans who weren’t smart enough to avoid them.
Fairies these days tend to be seen as diminutive benevolent little flutterbys. They were downgraded from gods, or demi-gods, to little more than the imaginings of children.
I imagine some fairies would care and others wouldn’t as while humans have forgotten, nothing has changed for the fairies. They still decide the fate of souls and rule the underworld. They still take the occasional human as they need a human to reproduce (there has to be some reason for kidnapping all those mortals in the old stories) and they still meddle in mortal affairs…only these days people don’t blame the fairies.
While creating my fairy world I was very aware that the fairy lore that is still around is old. Which means it’s not current news from Annwyn so I had to imagine what had changed over the centuries. Kind of a where are they now? Since my fairies love to plot and scheme, what better way to show that than with a battle for the throne looming?
I also had create Annwyn, the realm where they live, but I didn’t want it to be static. So Annwyn changes depending on what is happening. With the old king dying Annwyn is no longer in summer, the leaves are falling and everyone is worried about who will claim the throne, his son or the challenger (who is revealed in Lord of the Hunt).
Annwyn is full of beautiful fairies…but their looks concealed cunning and cruelty. They can be charming and yet terrifying. Capable of compassion and trickery. Their morals and rules are not the same as ours. They couldn’t be as they live for so much longer.
I hope that I have created a place of great beauty and danger.
The realm of the fairies might be unbelievably beautiful, but its people are notoriously treacherous. Raised among mortals, Taryn hoped to avoid her fairy heritage her whole life. But now she must cross over to Annwyn and appeal to the King to pardon her exiled parents, or they’re sure to die. And to get to the King, she’ll first have to face the Lord of the Hunt…
He Can’t Imagine Life Without Her…
Verden, Lord of the Hunt, is sworn to serve to King. But the moment he sees Taryn, the attraction is instant and devastating. How can he not help the beautiful, brave young woman who refuses to bend to the will of the court? Yet the power in Annwyn is shifting, its magic failing. No matter how much he may love Taryn, the Hunter knows that abandoning his duty could bring down the mortal world forever…
Praise for the works of Shona Husk:
“Romantic and intriguing.” —Publishers Weekly
“Enthralling.” —Booklist
“A great fairy-tale feel…dark, fresh, and tantalizing.” —Anna’s Book Blog
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Three time ARRA finalist Shona Husk lives in Western Australia at the edge of the Indian Ocean. Blessed with a lively imagination she spent most of her childhood making up stories. As an adult she discovered romance novels and hasn’t looked back. Drawing on history and myth, she writes about heroes who are armed and dangerous but have a heart of gold—sometimes literally. She is the author of the Shadowlands Series and the Annwyn Series. You can find out more information about Shona and her edgy romances at http://www.shonahusk.com/ or follow her on Twitter, @ShonaHusk.
TITLE: Master Of The Opera Act 2: Ghost Aria
SERIES #: Master Of The Opera #2
CHARACTERS: Christy & Master
AUTHOR: Jeffe Kennedy
PUBLICATION DATE: 01/16/14
ORDER LINKS: Amazon | B&N
BOOK SYNOPSIS:
In the second seductive installment of Jeffe Kennedy’s thrilling “Master of the Opera,” a young woman falls deeper under the spell of the man who haunts her dreams, fuels her desire, and demands her surrender…With each passing day of her internship at the Sante Fe Opera House, Christine Davis discovers something new, something exciting-and something frightening. Hidden in the twisting labyrinths beneath the theater is a mysterious man in a mask who, Christy’s convinced, is as real as the rose he left on her desk-and as passionate as the kiss that burns on her lips. He tells her to call him “Master,” and Christy can’t deny him. But when her predecessor-a missing intern-is found dead, Christy wonders if she’s playing with fire…
If her phantom lover is actually a killer, how can she continue to submit to his dark, erotic games? And if he is innocent, how can she resist-or refuse-when he demands nothing less than her body and soul?
REVIEW:
This is the second installment by Jeffe Kennedy’s new book. It is a very short story so far (under 40 pages) so I don’t have too much to say but as a fan of Kennedy’s I am sure this will be an interesting read. It is obviously based on Phantom of the Opera with a few differences of course. Act 2 is the main meeting of the couple. While they have said hello this installment lets Christy realize Master is real and not the ghost she thought him to be. There are 6 installments so this is really only the beginning.
Disclaimer:
I received a complimentary copy of the book in exchange for an honest review.
Welcome to Sweet Pepper, Tennessee. Nestled in the Great Smoky Mountains, it’s home to the hottest and sweetest peppers in the world—as well as at least one ghost and a hotbed of secrets…
GETTING WARMER
Fire Chief Stella Griffin is working to solve the mysterious death of her predecessor, Eric Gamlyn—who also haunts her cabin. Yet the more she learns, the more burning questions she must answer. Just as Stella thinks she has a lead from Deputy Chum, someone snuffs her hopes—and the lawman.
Adding fuel to the fire, Stella’s parents soon arrive—with her ex-boyfriend—hoping to persuade her to return to Chicago. Now Stella is torn between the life she left behind and uncovering what happened to her ghostly friend. But she’d better think fast or more than her investigation could go up in flames…
J.J. Cook’s first mystery, That Old Flame of Mine, became an instant bestseller in 2013. Playing with Fire is the second book in that series. They write award-winning, bestselling mystery fiction as Joyce and Jim Lavene, and Ellie Grant. They have written and published more than 70 novels for Harlequin, Berkley, Amazon, and Gallery Books along with hundreds of non-fiction articles for national and regional publications. They live in rural North Carolina with their family.
Review (4.5 Stars): One of the things that I love about Stella is her sheer determination and drive to be the best fire chief that she can be for Sweet Pepper. She only planned to stay there a few months to help get the volunteer fire brigade set up, but circumstances have kept her longer than originally planned. She is just an awesome character that rides a Harley, lives in a haunted cabin and is not afraid of anything or anyone.
In Playing with Fire, Stella has been thinking about going home but more evidence has surfaced regarding the death of Fire Chief, Eric Gamlyn. Eric is currently haunting Stella’s cabin and she is the only one that can communicate with him. When Deputy Chum gives her key information about the night Eric died and is soon murdered himself, Stella is compelled to help discover the truth. Only now, her family has arrived in Sweet Pepper to encourage her to come home and leave Sweet Pepper for good.
Playing with Fire is the second book in the Sweet Pepper Fire Brigade Mystery series and this series keep getting better and better. J.J. Cook has created a delightful series that I have to say is one of my favorites. This book ends on a cliffhanger which caught me off-guard but I can’t wait for the next book to spend more time with Stella and the crew of Sweet Pepper.
TITLE: Never Stopped Loving You
SERIES #: Chester Farm #1
CHARACTERS: Wade Chester & Kara Duncan
AUTHOR: Keri Ford
PUBLICATION DATE: December 2, 2013
ORDER LINKS: Amazon| B&N
BOOK SYNOPSIS:
At eighteen, Kara Duncan had already made her fair share of mistakes, choosing the wrong boy and earning herself a bad reputation in the process. Hurt and humiliated, she’d packed up and moved on, sure that everyone in Bella Warren, Arkansas, would be better off without her. She’d planned never to return, but when crisis strikes, she has nowhere else to turn.
After seven years, Wade Chester thought his feelings for Kara were finally ancient history. Until he sees her again, standing on his front porch just as she’d done a million times before. She needs his help—and his family’s crops—if her canning business is going to survive. The rest of his family has let bygones be bygones, so why is it so hard for him to let go of the past?
While Kara claims to be interested only in putting things right, the old heat flaring between them is undeniable. But Wade will need to risk his heart—and the reputation of his farm—to prove that they’re meant to be together.
REVIEW:
This was an okay story for me. It was kind of a mix between a new adult and an adult book.
When we start this book we learn that Kara & Wade have a past from when they were young. I past that didn’t end very well for either of them. But now Kara is back and a business partner to Wade and his sister. These two are thrown together and have to face the past, the present and the possibility of a future together.
Disclaimer:
I received a complimentary copy of the book from NetGalley & Carina Press in exchange for an honest review. This review is my own opinion and not a paid review.
TITLE: Hidden Destiny
SERIES #: Redwood Pack # 6
CHARACTERS: North Jamenson & Lexi Anderson
AUTHOR: Carrie Ann Ryan
PUBLICATION DATE: January 14, 2013
ORDER LINKS: Amazon | B&N
BOOK SYNOPSIS:
North Jamenson has always held his wolf closer to the surface than others. He’s the quiet one, the one no one really knows about yet he holds the darkest secret. He’s watched his brothers find their mates and start families, and now it was his turn. He knows Lexi could be his and her son could be part of his family, but he doesn’t know if he’s ready to share the darkness that’s entwined with his soul.
Lexi Anderson is a mother, a sister, a latent wolf, and a new member of the Redwood Pack. She’s also holding secrets so close to her heart she’s not even sure she knows the truth anymore. When North takes another step closer to wanting to cement their bond, Lexi must come to grips with her past and what it means for her future. The Centrals’ war isn’t over yet and Lexi’s life is on the line as the paths they’ve chosen takes a drastic turn.
REVIEW:
North knows he is loved by his family, but there is something dark in him that stirs that scares him. The one person that could possible help him control this darkness wants nothing to do with him. But North is not giving up on Lexi and will not let fate take her away from him, no matter what price he has to pay.
Lexi has finally found a place she can call home for herself, her son and her brother. But there is still a lot of tension coming from the other packmates. But the biggest issue that Lexi is facing is North. Her mate. Yet she can’t give him what they both want so badly.
North & Lexi have a huge uphill battle on their hands. The only want to win this battle is to trust each other and the new family that Lexi has now. But will it be enough?
Another really good story from Carrie Ann Ryan. I really enjoyed North & Lexi’s books. I am so glad that these two got a happy ending, kind of. Want to know what I mean by that you will just have to pick up a copy of Hidden Destiny to find out.
Disclaimer:
I received a complimentary copy of the book in exchange for an honest review. This review is my own opinion and not a paid review.
Welcome to Books-n-Kisses Margaret, can you please share with us a little about yourself?
I’ve been writing for thirty-five years and have sold 92 books. Recently I began putting my out of print books out. I write full-time now, but I used to teach school (high school students with special needs) until I retired. I have a husband, one son and four granddaughters. I love to spend time with them and my friends going to a movie and lunch.
Have you always wanted to be an author
I’ve have always been a storyteller but not until I was an adult did I think of being a writer.
What is your most interesting writing quirk?
If a word is underlined red in my manuscript indicating it is misspelled, I have to stop and find the right spelling.
Can you please tell us about your latest book(s)?
Dangerous Pursuit is the first book in The Protectors Series (Dangerous Interlude and Dangerous Paradise are the other two books). Dangerous Pursuit is my take on Romancing the Stone.
Blurb for Dangerous Pursuit:
Reading about danger never prepared Samantha Prince for the desperate phone call from her brother in Brazil that sent her from the safety of her New Orleans bookstore into the rugged, inhospitable Amazon in search of him and a hidden treasure. And reading about romance never prepared Samantha to resist the mysterious appeal of Brock Slader, a guide she hired to help her in her quest.
primitive headhunters and very up-to-date gunmen, she struggles to keep their relationship strictly business. Will Samantha survive the dangers in the jungle only to have her heart broken by a man who lives on the edge—no strings attached?
How did you come with the idea for this story?
I always loved romantic adventure with suspense and the Amazon has fascinated me. So I asked myself what would happen if you were down in an environment totally alien to you with people after you? Can you share with us your current work(s) in progress?
I’m currently working on a novella tied to my Guardians, Inc. Series(about female bodyguards for Love Inspired Suspense). This novella will come out in March in an Inspy Kisses collection with five other authors.
Who is the one author that you would love to meet someday and why?
I’ve been lucky. I’ve meet a lot of the authors I admired. Last year I meet my favorite author, James Rollins, at the RWA national conference. I was thrilled and really enjoyed talking with him.
What is the best piece of advice you would give to someone that wants to get into writing?
Not to get discouraged and keep writing. I had an eight year dry spell after publishing 20 books. When it ended, I went on to publish over 70 more books.
Can you share with us something off your bucket list.
To go to Australia. I’ve always wanted to go there.
What is in your To Read Pile that you are dying to start or upcoming release you can’t wait for?
A James Rollins’ book on my iPad. It’s calling my name as I type.
Margaret Daley, an award-winning author of eighty-five books, has been married for over forty years and is a firm believer in romance and love. When she isn’t traveling, she’s writing love stories, often with a suspense thread and corralling her three cats that think they rule her household. To find out more about Margaret visit her website, Twitter at and Facebook.
Dangerous Pursuit is the first book in The Protectors Series
Reading about danger never prepared Samantha Prince for the desperate phone call from her brother in Brazil that sent her from the safety of her New Orleans bookstore into the rugged, inhospitable Amazon in search of him and a hidden treasure. And reading about romance never prepared Samantha to resist the mysterious appeal of Brock Slader, a guide she hired to help her in her quest.
Alone with Brock in an alien world of orchids and anacondas, primitive headhunters and very up-to-date gunmen, she struggles to keep their relationship strictly business. Will Samantha survive the dangers in the jungle only to have her heart broken by a man who lives on the edge—no strings attached?
Coming Soon Dangerous Interlude and Dangerous Paradise
Excerpt: Chapter One from Dangerous Pursuit by Margaret Daley
As Samantha Prince leaned forward to straighten the books on a lower shelf, her long braid fell across her shoulder. Impatiently she flipped it back, considering again whether she should cut it short. Some people called her hair-color auburn; she called it red. Fiery-haired auburns were the heroines in the romance books she read. The color did not describe her.
“Samantha, what do you think of this book? I’m going out of town again and need something to keep me warm at night,” a stylish businesswoman in her forties said.
“A very good mystery, Mrs. Carson, but I wasn’t impressed with the main character. Not enough backbone to get out of all the scrapes he and the heroine got into.”
“It sounds like more adventure than mystery. Once I start a good adventure I can’t put it down and end up reading through the night. All those cliff-hangers, you know.” Mrs. Carson scanned another book from a display near the checkout counter.
Samantha smiled to herself. Mrs. Carson always came into her bookstore right before a business trip and went through almost every book on the shelves, looking for just the right one that was a great story but wouldn’t keep her up past midnight. Samantha had never found a novel with both ingredients, and she read at least half the books that came through her store. It was her favorite pastime, to lose herself in the lives of the characters and imagine herself doing things that she would never do in her real life.
“Maybe I should try a romance this time,” Mrs. Carson continued, shifting her attention to another section. “The last mystery I read had me waking up every time I heard anything. And you know in a hotel how many sounds you can hear.”
Actually, she didn’t. She had never been anywhere, unless she counted visiting Aunt Lou. She had planned a trip to Europe two summers before but had to cancel it. She was beginning to believe her lack of travel experience was a crime at the age of thirty.
“A good love story,” Samantha said, indicating the book Mrs. Carson picked up. “That ought to keep you warm at night. It’s very hot.”
She waved her hand to show just how hot the book was. While Mrs. Carson examined both books again, Samantha glanced around at the rows of bookshelves. After three years her business was doing very well—at least well enough for her to afford a vacation. Maybe she’d go to some exotic place, she thought as Mrs. Carson decided to buy both the romance and the mystery.
When Mrs. Carson left the Purple Ink, the noise of New Orleans traffic and a blast of cold air rushed into the shop. Samantha shivered and pulled the front of her brown sweater more securely across her chest. Somewhere exotic and warm, she amended. In her mind the only good thing to come from cold weather was curling up in bed under layers of wool blankets with a great book to read while sipping a steaming cup of hot chocolate with lots of marshmallows in it.
Tonight, she vowed as she began to finish restocking the shelves of the adventure section. Pausing to examine a cover on one book, she was instantly reminded of her younger brother, Mark, who traveled the world, going from one adventure to the next while she remained in New Orleans, working day after day to make Purple Ink a success. The biggest adventure Samantha ever encountered was the rush hour traffic on Interstate 10.
Sighing heavily, she completed her task and noted it was time to close up for the day. Standing, she stretched to ease the ache in her lower back. It was time to start exercising again. The holiday season had been busy, and she got out of the routine once Thanksgiving had passed. Now it was the first of February, and she had ignored her better sense and found excuse after excuse not to get back to it. Though exercising would never head her list of favorite things to do, she promised herself to sign up for a new aerobics class. Soon. Maybe in a month or so.
“Samantha, I’m going. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at nine thirty,” Nell, Samantha’s assistant, said as she gathered up her purse and coat.
“Don’t forget we have to start the inventory tomorrow. Can you stay late?”
“Yes.”
“I have everything lined up, so it shouldn’t take as long as last year.”
Nell shook her head. “You are the most organized human being I’ve ever met. If I know you, you’ll have devised a way to cut our time nearly in half.”
“Oh, at least. Why else invest in a computer?” Samantha laughed and waved her friend on.
Nell was always teasing Samantha about how neat and orderly she was. But she had practically raised her younger brother while her mother had worked to support them. As a teenager she had juggled school, part-time work, and housework. It hadn’t been easy, but her mother and younger brother had depended on her, so she had learned to be organized the hard way.
Samantha went through the same routine to close her shop as she had done ever since she had bought it. After one final survey of her store, she went out the back door to her car.
Mark always laughed about her and her routines, but they gave her a sense of security and stability that was important to her. Neither she nor Mark, as children, nor their mother, had had much of either. It didn’t seem to bother her brother, but it did bother her.
When she finally arrived at her house after grocery shopping, exhaustion from a long day gripped her. She picked up the bag of food and was planning her dinner as she stepped into her house. The phone was ringing, and she nearly dropped the bag as she rushed to pick up the receiver.
“Hello, Samantha Prince speaking.”
“Sam! You’re home finally. Why isn’t your cell working?” Her brother’s voice was faint, but he sounded frantic.
“Mark, what’s wrong? Where in the world are you?” Samantha set the grocery bag on the kitchen table and dug in her purse for her cell phone. She’d left it on silent, something she did often.
“Manaus.”
The long distance connection wasn’t a good one, and Samantha had to strain to hear his answer. “The Amazon?”
“Yes.”
“The last I heard you were in Rio. Why are you there?” She had read plenty of books set in the jungle and couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to go there.
“It’s a long story. I don’t have the time to go into it.”
The tone of her brother’s voice, laced with impatience, alarmed Samantha. Tiny prickles of fear rose on the nape of her neck. “Why did you call?” She forced her voice to remain calm while her grip tightened on the receiver. He was her only close relative, their mother having died four years before. Though they didn’t see each other a lot, she loved him very much and their relationship was a good one.
“I need a thousand dollars to get out of here. I needed it yesterday. Can you send me the money?” Mark’s voice faded in and out.
“You said you need a thousand dollars?”
“Yes, Sis. Fast.”
There was no mistaking the desperation in his answer. The tingles of fear quickly spread down her body. “Are you in some kind of trouble?” As a child she had rescued her brother from a few situations. He had always been daring; there was a bold recklessness about him that was very appealing, yet dangerous too. They were like night and day.
He laughed, but there was no amusement in the sound. “You could say that. I have someone who would like to get his hands on me. Can you wire it, Sis?”
“Yes, of course. But I can’t do anything until tomorrow morning. Everything is closed.”
He mumbled something she couldn’t understand, then said in a clear voice, “I’ll try to make—wait for it.”
“Where are you staying?”
“The Grand Hotel. It doesn’t live up to its name, but it’s all I could afford.”
“Can I send it to you there?”
“No! I’ll have to pick it up at the bank. It’s safer. I can’t trust anyone.”
Samantha shuddered. “Safer? Mark, please tell me what’s going on.”
Static crackled over the line, and Samantha placed her hand over her other ear as if that would help her hear him better.
“If anything happens to me, Sam, there’s something of great value under the altar of the Para Mission church. Got that?”
“Yes, but—”
There was the sound of male voices in the background, then Mark said quickly, “Got to go. Love you.”
The phone went dead.
Samantha collapsed into a chair, her whole body trembling. She thought about pinching herself; surely she had dreamed the telephone conversation. But the fear and sense of urgency reminded her of the reality of the phone call, and she was chilled with dread.
Something of great value under the altar of the Para Mission church?
What? How was Mark involved? Was it something illegal? Why was he running scared? And from whom? Her mind felt as if it would explode from all the unanswered questions bombarding her.
A thousand dollars! That would wipe out most of her savings for her vacation, but if Mark was in trouble, Samantha would sell her house and her bookstore if she had to.
If Mark was in trouble. From the sound of his voice he was in trouble. She knew she would be at the bank first thing in the morning.
* * *
Samantha stood frozen, holding her check for one thousand dollars in both hands. Mark hadn’t picked it up. It was hard for her to believe that her money had been returned that morning. But if he was going to pick it up, Mark would have in a week’s time.
Her hands began to shake, and she almost dropped the check. What or who had prevented her brother from getting the money?
The questions she had been avoiding all morning invaded her thoughts, and she sank into her desk chair in the back of her bookstore.
“What should I do?” she asked the silent walls.
Call! She’d call him at the Grand Hotel in Manaus. Maybe he was still there and didn’t need the money anymore and that was why he hadn’t picked it up. Maybe everything was fine now. Maybe the moon really was made of cheese.
Apprehensive about what she would find out, Samantha placed an international call to Brazil. When the man who answered at the hotel couldn’t speak English, she was at a loss.
“May I speak with Senor Prince?” Samantha spoke very slowly and in a loud voice, as if that would make things clear. She had never been good at learning foreign languages and envied her brother, who knew five fluently.
The stream of words that followed was unintelligible. Frustrated, Samantha finally hung up, concluding there was no Senor Prince at the Grand Hotel. Next she put a call through to Mark’s apartment in Rio and prayed that her brother would answer. On the twentieth ring she gave up and slammed the phone down, even more frustrated than before. Her fear returned in full force.
For five minutes she stared at the check, her mind churning with possible courses of action. Suddenly she turned to her laptop and punched in an address. Five minutes later she’d booked a flight to Rio.
She would go to Mark’s place in Rio and find out what she could about his whereabouts. Since he was no longer at the hotel in Manaus, maybe he had returned to Rio and wasn’t in his apartment at the moment. She would keep calling until she had to leave the next morning. She prayed she was panicking for no reason.
Thirty minutes later she was on her way home to pack for Brazil, having left a stunned Nell behind to run the bookstore. When she had thought about a vacation in a warm, exotic place last week, this wasn’t how she had envisioned planning it. Samantha had imagined herself going to a travel agent and getting plenty of brochures on different tropical locales. Then she would have gone home, spread them all out on her kitchen table, and slowly read through each one until she had narrowed her selection down to one. Everything would have been done in an orderly, slow fashion. Wasn’t part of the joy of a vacation the anticipation beforehand?
While sitting at a stoplight, her conversation with Nell returned to Samantha’s mind.
“I can’t believe you’re dropping everything to go to Brazil to look for your brother! This isn’t you. You don’t do things like this,” Nell had said.
“My brother doesn’t disappear like this either. I can’t sit here and wonder what’s happened to him. I’ve got to find out. I can’t get any answers over the phone.”
“So you’re flying thousands of miles to get some answers?”
“Do you know of a better way?”
Nell had shaken her head. “Don’t worry about the shop. I’ll take care of it. If your brother calls, what should I tell him?”
“Find out where he is and tell him to stay put. I’ll check in with you every few days.” Horns blared behind Samantha, and she realized she was sitting at a green light with angry motorists waiting on her. Embarrassed, she gunned her engine and sped forward.
She welcomed the familiarity of her small house, and before attempting to pack, she fixed herself a cup of hot tea and sat down at the kitchen table to organize what she had to do in the next twelve hours before she left for Rio.
Passport. Thank goodness she had one from that aborted trip to Europe.
Clothes? What kind of clothes should she take to Rio? Wasn’t it summer there? Clothing for a hot, humid environment. A couple of sundresses. Maybe a pair or two of shorts. A bathing suit. Sandals.
The last thing Samantha put on her list of necessities was the latest book she was reading, Jungle Fever. It was part of a shipment that had arrived at the store the previous day. Samantha had been drawn to the title because of Mark, but now she could hardly put it down. It was an engrossing tale of adventure and intrigue by a new author whom Samantha thought would go far. She had gotten to the part where the hero had just rescued the heroine from a tribe of headhunters and they were fleeing for their lives.
With her list completed, she began packing and finished at eleven. After showering and getting ready for bed, she tried to sleep, but her mind danced with images of her brother, herself, and his unknown enemy. She sat up in bed, switched on the light, and started reading the next chapter of her book.
Harper swung the machete, striking the thick undergrowth over and over. The swish of the blade filled the jungle stillness with the urgency of their escape. Diana clung to Harper’s hand, glancing constantly over her shoulders as they raced through the jungle. She could hear the Indians behind her. She could imagine their savage faces as the headhunters followed, so sure she and Harper would be caught. This was the headhunters’ territory. They ruled it as they had for hundreds of years: by fear.
Samantha was immediately whisked into another world and didn’t put the novel down until she couldn’t keep her eyelids open another minute. She glanced at her bedside clock and gasped. It was three in the morning. She had to leave at seven!
Sleep finally descended, but it was a restless sleep, saturated with pictures of painted Indians with lip discs and spears tipped in poison. Samantha tossed and turned, visualizing herself as Diana as she last read about her: standing at the top of a waterfall with a rushing river in front of her and the headhunters in back. Either way Diana went appeared to be instant death.
Cold reality returned the next morning as Samantha hurried to make her flight to Rio via Miami. She wasn’t able to catch her breath until the plane was in the air and the meal was being served.
Then the idea of what she was doing struck her with a powerful impact. She was flying down to Rio with one day’s notice, trying to locate her brother in one of the largest countries in the world. She wasn’t a detective and really knew nothing, other than what she had read, about what a detective did to find a missing person.
What was happening to the sensible, logical woman she was?
That question returned to plague her in Rio as she waited while her brother’s neighbor, whom Mark had said always had his spare key, let her into Mark’s place. Before her lay the wreckage of a once presentable bachelor’s apartment.
Everything was torn or shattered, nothing left untouched. Someone had searched this place very thoroughly, and she knew it was connected with Mark’s mysterious phone call the week before.
Samantha moved slowly into her brother’s apartment. Suddenly she knew the fear Diana felt looking down at the rushing river. And Samantha knew what she had to do next: go to the Amazon to Manaus.
