Sunday Morning with Nike Chillemi

Smell the coffee? maybe it's hot chocolate at your place. we don't discriminate. pull up up a chair and relax. I've got my newest Sunday outfit on, so I'm comfortable. We'll pick up where we left off yesterday. What would you say is the underlying theme of DARKEST HOUR for your readers to carry away from it?

Nike:  The underlying theme of all of my novels is that upright people are the ones who seek to right a wrong. My main characters seek justice. They fight against evil, sometimes at great risk to themselves. Another theme in all my stories is that evil cannot defeat love. I think of my mysteries as having a great love story, rather than a romance. In addition to the blossoming love between the heroine and the hero, I also have love of family and love of friends in my stories.  The various main characters in my stories are all at different places in their relationship with the Lord. Some are mature Christians while others are just beginning to consider a walk with the Lord. They all come to rely deeply on the Lord's love.

Shaunna: For those who've read my book DARK DAYS OF PROMISE, you will see why I love Nike and her novels. I love knowing that no matter how ugly things get, right will prevail. Of course I'm a romantic at heart, but romance isn't enough, there has to be a good story to keep me reading. And family and friends are always important.   Although your novels fall squarely into the classic murder mystery genre and might even be considered cozies, you've often been placed in the Edgy Christian Fiction category. Why is that?

Nike:  Wow. I think I'm going to get to that through the back door. I guess you could say my church experience has been that of attending what might be called the urban relevant church. Many in my congregation wear jeans to church. If you have tattoos or sport a black leather bomber jacket, you'd be welcome. And yet you couldn't find a preacher more respectful of the Lord and the gospel than my pastor. I approach Christian crime fiction from that perspective...relevancy. I write classic murder mysteries that could stand side-by-side with any Perry Mason story. However, the reader will find realism in my murder scenes, in my shoot-outs and fight scenes. A murder scene isn't pretty. It doesn't smell good. When one of my characters is beaten up or shot, I make it gritty...realistic. That's why I was placed in the edgy Christian fiction category. I've been writing seriously for about six years and I think today if you asked readers what I write, they'd simply say, "murder mysteries."

Shaunna: We are so different in our religious beliefs and yet the fundamentals are the same. I know there are readers that can't believe my work is recognized as Christian fiction. Who writes the rules anyway? You don't have to answer that Nike. Before I let the readers enjoy another excerpt, let me thank you (Grace Awards really) for inviting me to be a judge in this year's contest. Since our books are competing against each other…good luck! No, ladies and gentleman, we do not get to judge that genre.

Excerpt from DARKEST HOUR

From Chapter Two

Sanctuary Point, NY

"You can't go any further." The husky, police officer Lucinda had seen on patrol around the village raised his hand to stop her.

"My desk is over there." She felt outside her body, observing herself interacting.

"Sorry," the young man replied. "Nobody except law enforcement personnel's allowed in Dr. McCloud's office or by the secretary's desk."

A camera flashed in the doctor's office and the baby-faced officer she'd seen in the parking lot photographing the doctor's body emerged with his camera. His mother worked in the emergency room, and at any other time, she would have smiled at him in greeting. He strode to her desk and took a shot of the papers and items on top. He used a handkerchief to open the top right drawer where she kept an inkpad and several stamps and a steno book.

"Hey, he's going through my desk. Is he allowed to do that?"

The husky officer nodded. "The hospital's given full permission, but he could anyway."

"I see." She stepped to the side to get a better view of what the one with the camera was doing. What was his name? Robert Classen? Attaching a name to him helped, somehow.

He opened the top drawer of her desk and took another photograph.

She rubbed her arms, feeling strangely violated.

"There's something under this appointment book." The officer took keys out of his pocket and used one to lift the book. "Ian, come here. I found something."

Detective Daltry emerged from Dr. McCloud's office. "What've you got?"

"A bullet... a live round under this appointment book. Looks like a Smith and Wesson thirty-two Long."

The detective pulled a handkerchief from his inside breast pocket and retrieved the bullet. "A common cartridge, but still the make is different from the earlier version of the bullet. Get me an evidence bag."

"A bullet," Lucinda screeched and bolted past the officer.

"Miss, stop. You can't go there," the strapping one shouted after her.

"That is not mine." This was surreal. Her world was spinning out of control.

The detective wrapped the bullet in his hankie and shoved it in his pocket. He deftly stepped in front of her, blocking her path. "Miss Byrne, that's far enough."

"Mrs. Byrne."

"Mrs. Byrne," the detective said, his voice taut. "You must step back. And I will have a few more questions for you." He pivoted. "Officer Vogel, show Mrs. Byrne where to wait?"

"You have to back up. You're not allowed in this area," the stocky one said.

Detective Daltry examined the contents of her desk, while the younger one took photographs, documenting everything. Then the detective approached her and took out his notebook.

"Mrs. Byrne, as you saw, we found a bullet in your top desk drawer. Do you know how it got there?"

"I have no idea. I do not own a gun and have no need for a bullet."

"Does anyone in your household own a gun? Could you have somehow picked up a bullet from a gun kept in your house?"

"My grandfather owns a rifle. It's in a locked cabinet in the master bedroom. I don't know when the cabinet was last opened, but it was a long time ago. I have a young child at home and I don't want easy access to a gun."

"I fully understand, Mrs. Byrne. I have a child as well."

She released a sigh and realized she'd been holding her breath. "Until this moment, I'd forgotten we had that rifle in the house."

"Do you know of anyone who might've placed a bullet in your desk drawer? Maybe someone has it in for you."

"No, I don't know of anyone like that. My desk is out in the open, right in front of Dr. McCloud's and Dr. Hinsey's offices. Anyone who walked by could have access."

The detective nodded and smiled, "Indeed, that's certainly so."

Author Bio:

Like so many writers, Nike Chillemi started writing at a very young age. She still has the Crayola, fully illustrated book she penned (penciled might be more accurate) as a little girl about her then off-the-chart love of horses. Today, you might call her a crime fictionista. Her passion is crime fiction. She likes her bad guys really bad and her good guys smarter and better.

She is the founding board member of the Grace Awards and is its Chairman, a reader's choice awards for excellence in Christian fiction. She writes book reviews for The Christian Pulse online magazine. She was an Inspy Awards 2010 judge in the Suspense/Thriller/Mystery category and a judge in the 2011 and 2012 Carol Awards in the suspense, mystery, and romantic suspense categories. BURNING HEARTS, the first book in the crime wave that is sweeping the south shore of Long Island in The Sanctuary Point series, finaled in the Grace Awards 2011 in the Romance/Historical Romance category. GOODBYE NOEL, the second book in the series released in December, 2011 won the Grace Award 2011 in the Mystery/Romantic Suspense/Thriller category. PERILOUS SHADOWS, third in the series released July, 2012, and DARKEST HOUR, the fourth in the series released in February, 2013.  She is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW) and the Edgy Christian Fiction Lovers (Ning). http://nikechillemi.wordpress.com/

Weekend with Nike Chillemi

Shaunna:  Before I met Nike via the cyberwaves, I thought her name was a pseudonym. Nike -- wow a fast link to the teenager and their parents alike. We all think of Nike shoes, right? Then there is Chillemi. Do this aloud with me Chill-em-i. in my ear I hear Chillin'me. Thus my conjecture. Imagine my surprise when Nike corrected me with this: 

Nike: Since Chillemi is my true last name and not a pen name, I'm going to change the question a bit.

Shaunna: So here is the slightly revised question:  Tell us about your alter-ego Crime Fictionista. Was that contrived as you knew what genre you wanted to write in?

Nike:  A little known fact is I graduated from the Fashion Institute of Technology in NYC and worked in the bridal industry for many years. I traveled to bridal trade shows in Dallas, Atlanta, Chicago, Las Vegas, and of course in New York.  I became well acquainted with the term "fashionista." When I started writing murder mysteries, I thought how about "crime fictionista." I did a google search and discovered nobody was using it, so I took it for myself.  I have a very talented 15 year-old daughter who is now working on a red-haired, female-detective graphic to go with the moniker. I'll be debuting that graphic in the near future.

Shaunna: Fashion! Okay, does this mean I need to change my clothes for this interview? (I dive into my closet for a quick change to my most recently purchased jeans and button down top.) Et hum… I press the commercial button to keep you busy while I change.

------Commercial-------

Darkest Hour: (Murder Mystery w/Romance, late-1940s)

---a widow is framed by powerful people/the medical examiners knows she didn't pull the trigger

---Sweet romance, warm intimacy, sophisticated themes presented tastefully

A petite widow, secretary and sole support of her son and grandparents, is framed for the murder of her boss. Wealthy village residents conspire with the DA to indicte her and stop further investigation. The medical examiner thinks the shooter was a tall individual and when his report is shoved aside, starts snooping trying to clear her and in the process falls in love with her.

Lucinda Walsh lost her husband and parents at sea. When she discovers the body of her boss, his A-List society finacee, backed up by her powerful family and a corrupt DA, acuses Lucinda of murder.  She struggles on shielding her five-year-old son, her feisty grandfather and arthritic grandmother from the ugliness of her situation. She mistrusts the dapper ME, thinking he's a ladies' man, but soon realizes he may be the only one in her corner.

Hank Jansen, the county ME who's had his share of pain and loss, doesn't know if this little widow was in on the murder, but he knows by the trajectory of the bullet she's too short to have pulled the trigger. His professional opinion ignored, he begins his own investigation and at least one cop accuses him of an ethics violation. He certainly can't deny he's fallen head over heals for the accused, and also is crazy about her son. A huge problem is there's a leak inside the investigation and the murderer is always one step ahead of them.

Shaunna (Slinking to my seat, I nervously straighten in my chair as I fidget with my four inch heels. If I had to stand, I'd probably lose my balance.)  How did you develop the plot for DARKEST HOUR and how did you come up with the name?

Nike: (Snickering at my discomfiture.)  In my Sanctuary Point series, one novel has flowed out of another. Main characters in one novel will appear as subordinate characters in the next novel.  Hank Jansen, the Nassau County Medical Examiner, first appeared in my Christmas/New Year's novel in the series, GOODBYE NOEL. Then he popped up at the murder scene in PERILOUS SHADOWS. I got to like him and thought he'd be a terrific hero. He is the most flawed of my heroes, but like all my other heroes, he seeks to right injustice. So, he needed a heroine, but I wanted a gal who would be put off by him at first. So, I created a widow with a young son who the powerful people in the village seek to frame for the murder of the village doctor. She is dignified and protective of her son and at first thinks Hank is a ladies' man and one who is a bit to cavalier for her taste. Then, of course, he grows on her. The name DARKEST HOUR came to mind because things in this story get so scary for the heroine. 

Shaunna: That's it! I can't wait! I gotta read the first chapter.

Excerpt:

From Chapter One

Sanctuary Point, NY

Lucinda Byrne backed further away from the dead body of her boss, the sides of his suit jacket wide open. Blood oozed from a hole in the center of his chest and spread over the front of his white dress shirt and yellow tie. Dark, angry red... sticky...

A baby-faced police officer snapped photographs of the body where it lay in the gravel parking lot.

Even at this hour, the day threatened to be a hot one, and the smell the body threw off intensified by the minute. She hugged herself, but couldn't stop the trembling, then took another step back. "Someone said the medical examiner was on his way," she mumbled to nobody in particular.

A burgundy Chevrolet sport coupe pulled into the lot. A stylish man with wavy brown hair and a tinge of gray at the temples got out. He walked toward the detective in charge and they talked.

The village detective, with a riot of salt and pepper hair beneath a fedora, jutted his chin in her direction.

The newcomer turned his face toward her. She felt small under this Dapper Dan's scrutiny, but forced herself to stand pat and return his gaze.

He tugged at the razor like crease in his pants, looked down, and squatted beside Dr. McCloud's body, but didn't touch it. There was obviously no need to feel for a pulse.

The detective turned on his heel and approached her. "I'm Detective Ian Daltry, ma'am. I understand you found the body." He took a small notebook and a fountain pen from his jacket pocket.

"Yes, I... I did." She started to sniffle and fought it, not wanting to fall apart while being questioned.

"And Dr. McCloud was your boss?"

"Yes."

"Both you and Dr. McCloud came into work early this morning?"

"I knew he wanted to clear up some paper work, so I came in as well." She clasped her hands together, squeezing the fingers of one hand into the back of the other.

"Really?" His eyes narrowed.

"Yes, Detective, really. Early is fine with me, so is late. I really need my job."

He tapped his notebook with his pen. "When you arrived this morning, did you notice a car coming into the parking lot or pulling out?"

"No, I wasn't looking for that." She'd had her head down as she rushed for the front door, wondering what type of mood the self-important doctor would be in. She'd keep that tidbit to herself.

The detective jotted a note. "When you got out of your car, what did you see?"

"I was walking toward the main entrance and there he was -- on the ground. Blood spreading all over his shirt." She swiped at a tear seeping from the corner of her eye.

The detective wrote in the notebook. "After you got out of your car, did you see anyone walking in or out of the hospital?"

"No one." She looked toward the hospital to prevent the detective from seeing her lower lip trembling. A lock of shoulder-length brown hair fell into her face and she brushed it away.

He made another notation. "Nobody at all?"

"No. I'm sorry. I wish I could help you, but I didn't see anything." The relentless yammering of her thoughts had crushed her, worries that babysitting her young son might be too much for her elderly grandparents. She hadn't been paying attention to her surroundings.

"That's about all the questions I have at this time." He took her address and phone number. Stepped away from her, then turned back, and asked a couple more questions that made no sense to her.

She stood there staring at him as he returned to the body.

If only this morning would end. She rubbed her hands together in an attempt to quell a slight tremor.

A black coach resembling an ambulance drove into the lot. An older man in overalls pulled a collapsible gurney out of the back and raised its bed to hip level. Its chrome gleamed.

A night orderly and two nurses getting off the night shift stopped to watch.

The brown-haired man pointed to the gurney and his voice carried. "They finally allocated some funds my way. Makes transporting much easier. Oscar and I used to carry them on a stretcher. My back sure is grateful to the board of supervisors."

The detective laughed. "Don't you county guys have all the dough you want?"

"Who're you kidding?"

The gurney's wheels rumbled across the gravel parking lot. The older man pulled on the straps of his overalls."Hank, you ready to move the body?"

The stylish man nodded. "Let's do it." They lifted the body onto the gurney and the man in overalls covered Dr. McCloud with a white sheet. Blood seeped through and began spreading.

Lucinda gasped, took another step back, stumbled, but managed to keep her footing. She straightened her spine. She still had to go into that building and work a full day. She had a son to support.

The detective nodded toward the body. "By the size of the hole in his chest, I'd guess he was shot with a pistol, maybe at close range. I need to have the bullet as soon as you recover it."

"Then by all means, you'll be my guest at the autopsy."

"Gee, thanks." The detective shook his head.

The debonair man chuckled, turned, and approached Lucinda.

A tremor ran down her back. More questioning, and all she wanted to do was run and hide. She sniffled and wiped her nose with the side of her index finger.

He reached into his inside pocket and offered her a folded white handkerchief. "It's rough if you've never seen anything like this. I'm Hank Jansen, the medical examiner, by the way."

Lucinda's gaze followed the gurney to the black coach. "He was my boss."

"You work at the hospital for Dr. McCloud?"

"Yes. I... I'm his secretary... was, I mean. And Dr. Hinsey's too." She couldn't believe the doctor's life had ended this way.

Detective Daltry barked, "Hank, can I speak with you?"

"Excuse me." The medical examiner stepped away.

"Wait." Lucinda quickly refolded the handkerchief and handed it back to him. She didn't know this man. Wouldn't begin to know how to return the white cotton cloth. "Don't forget this."

"Take it with you. The day's not over. Things could still get rough." He smiled.

"No, I can't take your hankie."

"Listen, I'll pick it up the next time I'm at the hospital. You say you work for Dr. Hinsey?"

"Hank," the detective called, impatience sharp in his tone.

"Yes, Dr. Hinsey. She's the head of the maternity ward. I'll launder it and have it ready for you."

The medical examiner nodded and smiled. "It's a date. I mean, I'll stop by and pick it up." He turned and trotted toward the detective.

Lucinda slipped the handkerchief into her purse. She headed for the main entrance of the hospital, bent and picked up a fountain pen in the gravel lot.

She pivoted and advanced toward the two men.

The detective made a chopping gesture with his hand and raised his voice. "I'm not fooling, Hank. Don't go putting another notch in your belt. She's a witness."

"Can't a fellow do a simple act of kindness?"

"I'm warning you, stay away from her." The detective spun around and nearly collided with Lucinda.

Heat rushed to her face, and she couldn't meet either man's gaze. If the ground would only open and swallow her. She held the pen out to Detective Daltry. "Uh... I… I'm sorry. I think you dropped this."

---continued tomorrow guys. I'm hooked!  Don't forget to come back!

GRACE FILLED BOOK BLITZ - Day Twelve

GRACE FILLED 12-DAYS OF CHRISTMAS BOOK BLITZ


Dark Days of Promise Excerpt

"Look at me, Vicki."

I avoided his eyes.

"Damn it, Vicki, look at me!" His voice begged for my full attention. When I didn't look at him, he stood, placing me in the chair. He squatted down in front of me on his good leg. I met his gaze for the first time since he'd started talking. His eyes pierced me, imploring me to understand what he found impossible to explain. He began again.

"I can't do this by myself. I know I don't deserve it, but I'm asking you to help me. I'm asking you to consider being my anchor in the sanity of civilian life. Marshall asked me to take care of his family should anything happen to him. I believe he meant you, as well as the kids. I don't know how to do that without being a soldier. Soldiering is all I know. Do you realize I walk the perimeter of both our houses every night?"

I gasped in surprise.

"Sometimes twice if I'm not sure everything's right. I even carry a weapon when I feel you might be in danger. The boys have made a lot of tracks in the snow, which is why you haven't noticed. It's okay; I'm not a 'Peeping Tom.' I don't peer in your windows or invade your privacy. You should close the blinds though. You're beautiful, even in your old pajamas."

"You can't see in my windows, can you?" I choked.

"Not if I'm not looking," he hedged.

"I can't believe--"

http://www.amazon.com/Dark-Days-of-Promise-ebook/dp/B009EHRB7K/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1356558654&sr=1-1&keywords=Shaunna+gonzales

GRACED FILLED BOOK BLITZ - Day Eight

Dark Days of Promise Excerpt

My mind grasped at an idea. Maybe I didn't need to tell them. "Janine, do you think they need to know?"

"Wouldn't you want to know if your father was killed?"

"They're so young," I argued.

"Young, yes. Entitled to the truth? Yes, I believe they are that too."

I clung to her, begging her with my hazel impersonation of puppy dog eyes. "Would you tell them?"

"Yes." She caressed my hand, the soft fragrance of her hand soap wafted to me.

I smiled, believing I wouldn't have to bear the burden alone.

"If they were my children I would definitely tell them. They are your children. You know them better than I do and although I love them, I can't guess how each of them will react to the news."

She dashed my hopes with her firm and loving words. "I don't know how. I can't do this alone."

"You won't have to. I'll be here." She patted my knee. "Your Heavenly Father is always close by. Maybe you should ask Him for help."

"You think God will come break the news to them?"

"You know He doesn't work that way. Have a little faith, my dear. Marshall would want you to do this."

I fell silent, remembering...   http://www.amazon.com/Dark-Days-of-Promise-ebook/dp/B009EHRB7K/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1356558654&sr=1-1&keywords=Shaunna+gonzales

The Gambler's Brother

Welcome Jillian! Many thanks to Shaunna for inviting me over to her blog today to chat about my new release, The Gambler's Brother. I love the fact that the authors at Desert Breeze Publishing are so supportive of each other. That's so cool.


We all lead busy lives, but I'm glad to do this for you. Tell me/us about the book. the cover is Wow! My new release is a historical novel based in 1946. It's the second in a series of three books but don't let that scare you. It's a full and complete story and reading the first one isn't necessary for the story line in this one.

That is good to hear. So often we have to read all the books in order in the series to know what is going on. I admire the author that ties the series together without making the reader do just that.

I'm a huge fan of 20th century history as there is so much fodder for the imagination with all the changes that occurred in the world during those 100 years. Really, think about it. We went from horse drawn carriages to horseless carriages and even as far as the moon. Think about the people born in 1900 and all the massive changes that they lived through. It's absolutely amazing and jaw dropping.

I can still see my grandmother shaking her head as she watch Walter Cronkite report on Armstong walking on the moon. Now all three of those parties are deceased.

For this novel, I focused on the aftermath of World War II and the movement of the brides who married American servicemen serving overseas. It's so romantic (and scary) to think about these women and how they changed their whole lives to marry a man from a foreign place. How wonderfully brave they all were to have survived the war and then, just when things may have gotten back to normal, to uproot themselves in the name of love.

Quite the adventurous generation! Can you share your book blurb with us?

Blurb:  Beaumont McSwain, a former RAF pilot wounded in combat is now the legal officer onboard the Queen Mary. He's haunted by a tragic mission gone awry and wants to return to America and to a life of peace and quiet. Zoe Langlois, a former member of the French Resistance, wants to get to America and find what's left of her family after the Nazi's reign of terror. She boards the Queen Mary under a false identity as a war bride. Along the way, several of the brides are killed and Zoe's odds of survival are decreasing by the day. She and Bo are attracted to each other, but his secret as well as hers threaten their potential for happiness.

Nice! Now I want more-- an excerpt maybe?
Of course
EXCERPT

Bo reached over and shut it gently for him and turned to walk away. He took several steps toward the elevator to go up to the bridge. Two women stopped his progress.

The one with curly hair put her hand on his arm. "I'm Filomena Andrews and this is Zoe Crawford. We need to talk to someone in charge."

"That's not me." He jerked his head back toward the purser's window. "Check with Nate over there if you have problems with your quarters. I have to get to the bridge."

"It's not problems with our quarters and if you're going to the bridge, you must be someone important since they run the ship from there, right?" Mena asked.

Bo nodded once. "They do run the ship from there, but I'm just an errand boy." He waved the papers in his hand. "I have to go. Sorry, ladies."

"I wonder that they'd choose someone like you as an errand boy--" Zoe said as he stepped away.

"What? A gimp? How rude of you to point that out, madam," Bo snapped at her.

Zoe looked him up and down. She sneered. "What I was referring to, sir, was your obvious rank. I can see it by the stripes on your sleeve. You're a group captain in the Royal Air Force, correct? It seems to me that you're the sensitive one. I feel sorry for you going through life expecting the worst of people. What a sad existence."

Bo stared at her. "I don't have a sad existence. I don't think the worst of everyone. I--"

Zoe cut him off. "You've made it clear how you feel about people, Group Captain." She turned to her friend. "Come, Mena, let's take the man up on his advice and talk to this Nate person. It's clear that this errand boy has other things to keep him busy."

She pivoted on her heel and stalked over to the purser's window. Her friend followed her as Bo gaped in shock. What an impossibly arrogant woman. French, of course. Even being invaded and conquered, they still hold that attitude of superiority. I feel for the poor bugger that married her.

Okay, so now that I/we have to have more, where do we go?

Buy link:
http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/-strse-356/Gambler's-Inheritance-Book-Two-cln-/Detail.bok

Tell us more about yourself. Jillian Chantal is the pen name of a lawyer in Pensacola, Florida. She decided she needed to work under a pen name when she was sitting in a room full of staid male lawyers. Jillian has always been a storyteller and written for fun. When she was in the fifth grade, she wrote a story about Mr. Pepper who fell in love with Miss Salt. He went to medical school and became Dr. Pepper. This story got rave reviews and was even copied by the teacher and distributed to the younger kids' classes. The bug to be published someday had bitten Jillian.

Jillian put off her dream to be published as she went to college and law school. She was too busy to dedicate the time to writing due to the interference of the practice of law and raising children. Once her children got older, she started back with the dream of being published.

Thanks for coming by. You can contact Jillian at: www.jillianchantal.com
Twitter @jillianchantal
Facebook: Jillianchantal

Updates

Well, I'm not at Debra Parmley's blog today as expected. Instead we are shooting for the 6th. Don't hold your breath unless you are reading something that warrants that involuntary response!
Since I won't be hopping from blog to blog today it is time to decide whether or not my hero and heroine in Talisman: Crisscross in Time get out of their current crisis or rather how.
It is a romance so they will in the end, but at what cost?  Quinn- the hero is on trial for murder. Trish - the heroine has yet to pass the bar, but does she know enough to get him off? What game is she playing? Is one of them, or both insane? Of course at this point neither has verbally admitted to the other that they are in love, but if a character is willing to die for the other, doesn't that make it obvious?
Are you dying to know what I'm talking about? Okay, I know T. is, so here's a short excerpt to get you wanting more of this time-travel to the late 1800's.

"Would you care to tell the court of that afternoon?"


Quinn accurately related the events that took place up until they had left the saloon, but didn't mention the details of why such plans had been made.

"What happened when we left the saloon? I will remind you that you are under oath. There is no place here to spare the sensitivities of the women present, including myself."

"I drove ya to my place and we talked. Then ya left."

"We talked. Nothing more? Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes, we talked… maybe argued, but nothin' else I'm sure."

"Did you infer, by direct means, or hint… at bedding me?"

Quinn dropped his gaze. When he looked up Trish noticed the pain etched there.

"Yes, I did invite ya to my bed."

"For money?" Trish ignored the murmurs and pushed on before her resolve faded.

"No." His features wore a tentative apprehension.
"Didn't you indicate that you would make it 'worth my trip'?"

"Yes, but it was a ploy to cover your actions." he defended.

Judge Fairbanks shifted in his chair.

"Is this a ploy now?" she asked.

"I don't think so, no."

Trish wanted to press him further but her wanting to know how deep his feelings for her ran had nothing to do with this trial.

"Thank you, Quinn. Your honor, I am through questioning this witness, but request that I have the right to recall him."

What is the key?

Thank you Shaunna for inviting me to your blog today. On 21st July my fantasy romance "The Sixth Key" was released by Desert Breeze Publishing. The novel is set on the alternate world of Sacral, a world ruled by telepaths. It's a sweet romance and suitable for sixteen years and older.


Fantasy books are my favorite to read and write. I love creating worlds for my characters. Once I have the basic outline and characters in my head, the world develops around them. Sometimes I get rapped over the knuckles by the characters as they decide something isn't right and they want it changed. The end result is usually a combined effort.

I learned early on in my writing efforts to listen to my characters. They know themselves better than anyone else, including me, but they don't always know what's best for them. At the end of the day I'm the author and if I feel really strongly about a trait or scene I insist it goes my way. A little sulking follows, but it all comes out fine in the end.

The Sixth Key centers around Riley, a young woman from Earth, who wakes up after an accident to find she's on a world ruled by telepaths. Caught between the man who brought her to Sacral and the leader of the Mutes, Riley must solve the Riddle of the Keys to discover the identity of the real King of Sacral.

I hope you enjoy the excerpt below and don't forget, leave a comment and be in to win an ebook version of "The Sixth Key" at the end of the blog tour.

Buy Link: http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/-strse-324/The-Sixth-Key-Sue/Detail.bok

Website: http://www.sueperkinsauthor.com/  


Excerpt posted by permission:

A cold drizzle fell on Riley as she left home on Monday morning. The weather matched her mood. Another weekend wasted waiting for Jothur to contact her.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He's gone Riley. Left without a word. He's probably taken up with some fancy woman in another town.

Head down, she pushed her way through the crowds, heading for the bus stop. Riley didn't pay any attention to those around her. Her thoughts were fixed on her time with Jothur.

They met at a party. A casual friend asked her to be nice to the stranger who had only recently arrived in town and didn't know anyone. Riley clutched her drink tightly and gazed unbelievingly at the tall, blond, handsome man. His smile made her insides melt, and when he spoke, the liquid tones of his voice flowed over her as molten chocolate.

Desperate to keep his attention, she offered to show him the around the town. Jothur accepted, and for several weeks they were inseparable. Riley couldn't help herself. She'd fallen hard for this gorgeous man. Did he feel the same way? Of course he did. Her guess proved correct when he talked about their future together. The day after they'd discussed this -- he disappeared.

No explanations. No note. No phone call. Riley's worries surfaced when he didn't turn up for their next date. To make sure nothing had happened to him, she'd grabbed her jacket and opened the front door before realizing she had no idea where Jothur lived. He'd always been pretty vague about his address, but at the time Riley hadn't thought anything of it.

Days passed. None of her crowd knew where Jothur lived either. Her misery increased. This had been her fourth weekend alone and she had to accept Jothur had left with no intention of coming back. It didn't mean she had to like it though.

The drizzle turned into a downpour. Raindrops bounced off the black road surface, but through the noise she could hear a bus approaching.

Great. Miss this one and she'd be late for work. She dashed out into the road, head down, trying to keep the rain from her face. A horn blared and brakes squealed. Riley stopped. Her head jerked up to see a huge yellow truck bearing down on her. The driver's horrified face filled her vision before everything went dark.

Fight! Fight!

Excerpt from current WIP (work in progress)

"An' ya think ya can just come in 'ere and bed her?" Quinn bit off the question.


"No wonder she's so lonely in bed. 'Course you probably don't know how to satisfy her anyway."

Quinn answered Kueter with a stiff upper cut. Kueter stumbled back, caught off-guard. He regained his balance and charged. Fists landed on muscle, leaving bruises in their wake. Quinn's fist found Kueter's nose. The awful crunch of smashed cartilage signaled severe injury.

Kueter answered with a wicked blow to Quinn's eye socket, tearing flesh. Quinn advanced sending punch after punch to his opponent's soft under belly. He didn't care for the man or his implications. This was Quinn's territory. Zelda was his girl. A table crashed to the floor under the weight of grown men. Quinn was up first, but Kueter charged again, wrapping his arms around Quinn's middle and driving him back. Quinn staggered back against the bar, the solid wood bruising his back.

Tuckett stepped in, picking up the whiskey bottle Quinn had drained. Quinn saw Tuckett raise the bottle overhead out of the corner of his uninjured eye, twisting he blocked Tuckett's blow with his arm. A nasty gash spurted blood in all directions. Kueter punched Quinn hard in the left kidney. Quinn arched to the side and back in reflex. Both men continued their battle, pushing Quinn to a murderous frenzy, fighting both men at the same time.

At last the foray calmed for a moment.

"Get his carcass out of here before I kill both of ya." Quinn bellowed, chasing them to the hitching rail with his staggering steps.

Tuckett pushed Kueter up on his dun with Kueter unable to sit erect in the saddle.

Tuckett turned back to Quinn. "Next time."

"Get out." Quinn growled feeling a glimmer of victory.

Tuckett climbed on his own horse and lit out in the same direction Kueter had gone, southwest.

Mysterious Monday is asking a question.

What do Dark Days have to do with Promise? They don't go together. Better yet, what Promise might Dark Days hold? Now you're asking the right question.


When thinking of Dark Days we all have our own lists. Some lists include dark, stormy days in the literal sense. Others would think of days of depression and gloom or the death of a loved one, still others would consider the days of unemployment and family turmoil. Maybe one would think of days of life changing illness or the betrayal of a spouse or friend.

I encourage you to take a moment to consider what you would consider a dark day.

Would any of the above be correct in relation to my upcoming release Dark Days of Promise? Most certainly, yes. Which one? Ah hah, one must read to find out. You've now been supplied with at least one clue to the mystery.

But what do any of these have to do with Promise? That depends entirely on the promise one is referring to. What Promise would you prefer? I like the idea that tomorrow will be better than today. For some, that may be promise enough. But for at least one of my characters there is just that promise. Wouldn't we all love to have a friends promise that tomorrow will be better than today fulfilled?

In Dark Days of Promise, Vicki, the main character is given such a promise by her closest friend in this opening scene.

Janine, my best friend and elderly neighbor, glanced at the house and back at me. "Vicki, it's going to be okay. Even the darkest of days hold a promise of good things. I'll be right here beside you."

But can an elderly friend deliver on such a promise? Read, then you decide.

Dark Days of Promise will be released for sale through Desert Breeze Publishing in September 2012. (Check counter at the right for how many days you have left to wait.)

Link to buy: http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/-strse-345/Dark-Days-of-Promise/Detail.bok

Fight in Progress!

Disclaimer: This fight is a work in progress.

Quinn rode closer to the camp, dismounting at the firelight's ring. "Smells right inviting." He nodded at the woman and the plate of beans in her hand.


"When she ain't burnin' it or dumpin' it on ya." The old timer turned his attention to the woman. "Get the man the rest of 'em vittles."

Quinn watched her. She glanced longingly at the beans and then handed him the plate. As he took the plate he noticed that her hands were tethered. A length of rope kept her within the ring of firelight.

"Have a sit. Move woman or ya'll get no blanket tonight."

The woman eyed her captor, an inkling of hunger mixing with the loathing glare. She moved away from him as far as her tether would allow.

Quinn nodded his thanks and grudgingly took her seat on a comfortable rock. He spooned a healthy bite into his mouth. They tasted awful. What had she done to them? The old timer took his place on a ratty stool and resumed his meal, seemingly unaware of the offensive taste.

"Bet cha'r wondrun' 'bout this." The old man traced the tether in the air with his spoon.

Quinn nodded in a nonchalant manner taking a smaller bite of beans.

"Ungrateful wretch. Saved 'er life, I did. An' this 'eres the result."

"She volunteered to be your slave, did she?" Quinn knew better, but wanted to hear the old timers version of the story. Nothing made it right to tether a woman like this, especially one that seemed rather unhappy about it. If she were a cattle wrestler than it might be different.

"Jus' opposite. Old Curly saves her life an' she weren't even appreciable. Ya ever heard of that?"

"I said 'thanks'," the woman said.

Curly yanked hard on the rope causing her to fall. Quinn considered the rope, following it with his eyes to find it anchored to a large rock near Curly.

Anger boiled in Quinn's throat. You couldn't force someone to be thankful and if anything Curly had heaped the wrath of a woman on himself. He managed to hide his feelings. Could Curly be reasoned with? Was Curly the type of man to seek revenge if Quinn stepped in to ruin his plans? Would he have to outright kill Curly to set the woman free? At best, Curly had warped motives for keeping her within his grasp.

"Women," Quinn drawled. "Seems they're more trouble than they're worth. Are you a gambling man, Curly?"

"Thinking of takin' 'er off my hands, are ya?" Curly shook his head. "Not 'fore I get my poke."

"Tough time getting that poke?"

"Ain't been the time."

"So what's stopping you?" Quinn measured the man across the campfire from him, disgust growing with his every word.

"Nothun now. My belly's full. I ain't a greedy feller. Ya can 'ave a go, jus' as well. Then we know what stakes we're playin' fer."

Quinn looked around to see the woman grasping a stout branch in her hands, obviously planning to stand her ground.

"No way. Over my dead body. You want a go? I'll take your manhood first," she hissed.

"Wretch!"

Quinn stood turning to face her, the plate of beans forgotten. He spread his hands, his fingers extended. He tried to reassure her, mouthing the words, "It's okay. I won't hurt you."

Curly's shadow grew, then distorted as he skirted the fire. "Ya go fer 'er hands. I'll hog tie 'er."

Quinn's hand recoiled at the same time he spun. His knife flashed once before sinking into Old Curly's shoulder. The stout branch caught him off guard. The second swipe hit him and all went black.

====
Okay, I'm being mean, but you'll have to read the book when it's released next spring to fine out who won the fight.
Talisman Series
Criss Cross for Love

Nurtured In Purple

Excerpt from Nurtured in Purple

Used by permission of author, Jude Urbanski


Elizabeth had come to this planning meeting simply because her mother harped she never did anything at church. She didn’t want to be here at all. Planning a boxed supper auction wasn’t her idea of fun even if the proceeds did go to an orphanage mission project. Orphanage.No doubt the brainchild of one of the elder Orbins.

There sits Kate with her adorable new son. Her adorable son. Not mine.

Besides Kate, Winnie Orbin, Margie Craig, Myrt Rich, Nan Holden, Ermon Upchurch and a few other ladies Elizabeth didn't know at all clustered around the table in the church basement. Of course, Mama was there. She had insisted Elizabeth come.

These ladies were the doers of Chanute Community Church. Most had attended all their lives, as their parents before them.

Well, maybe not Kate. She hadn't been here all her life. She was a foreigner. A foreigner melded to the most aristocratic of families. How had that happened? How? It shouldn't have happened.

Elizabeth took in the women, all well dressed, but she couldn’t help notice how her own Mama’s dress surpassed them all and how her rings glittered on her fingers. Mama still looked pretty good for her age.

Elizabeth absently twisted the large diamond on her own ring finger. The date was creeping closer and soon she’d be Mrs. Willard Wittenberg. Not what she had wanted, but she guessed it would do. Willard wasn’t all bad.

"Oh, Elizabeth, we’re glad Adeline brought you. We can sure use your help," Winnie Orbin said. "We’ll need several cakes and pies to auction and I wonder if you and your mother would bring your famous lemon pound cake for the auction?" She looked toward Adeline.

Adeline answered, "Winnie, we’d be glad to bring a lemon pound cake, won’t we, Elizabeth?" Her hand strayed to her silver hair, tucking in what didn’t need tucking. "It’ll be practice for us. We’re having lemon pound cake at Elizabeth’s wedding shower next week." She smiled.

Elizabeth did not feel the need to say anything.

Mama, why do you always tell everything you know?

"That’s exciting. When is the wedding, Elizabeth?" Ermon Upchurch sat beside her.

"It’s in five weeks, during Fall Break at school. I have nearly everything done, just last minute things left, you know."

"Good for you, Elizabeth," Margie said, "I’ll soon be the only unmarried one in Chanute Crossing!" She laughed.

"Margie Craig, you’re single by choice, so let’s not hear any more about it, okay? Remember Bob was single a long time before I came from St. Louis to marry him."

"Nan, we all remember your arrival and how happy it made Bob," Winnie said, "but, ladies, right now, we’d best get back to planning. Our event is less than two weeks away."

Elizabeth watched Winnie quietly, yet efficiently organize and delegate until every detail was completed. Though she hadn’t wanted to, Elizabeth said yes to working behind the boxed supper booth at the social.

Willard wouldn’t be too happy. He was hanging in there with the Men’s Bible Study, but she felt his frustration and sometimes anger with the group. Especially toward Seth, whose kindness Willard found hard to understand or accept. It made him suspicious. He wasn’t used to kindness. Never had been.

"Well, ladies, thanks for coming tonight. We got a lot accomplished, didn’t we? Call if you’ve any questions. Otherwise, I’ll see you in just over a week." Winnie folded her papers.

As Elizabeth and her mother left the church and walked toward their car, they noticed Kate struggling to get her car door opened and keep hold on her purse and her baby. She had dropped her keys.

"Hey, Kate, I’ll get those keys. Let me." Elizabeth moved toward Kate and picked up the keys that had slid almost under the car.

"Why thank you, Elizabeth. I was having trouble juggling everything. Don’t quite have all my energy back yet it seems." Kate flashed a smile. "Appreciate it."

"Oh, it’s nothing. Your little baby is nice." Elizabeth gingerly touched the baby blanket and turned to walk away.

"Yes, he is sweet, Kate. Well, good night," Adeline said, following Elizabeth.

"Well, thank you both. Tommy is a special baby."

Elizabeth set her mouth in a firm line, attempting to forget the beautiful, dark-haired little baby snuggled in the blue blanket.

So, Kate is not as well as it appears?Umm.


http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/-strse-305/Chanuke-Chronicles-Book-Two-cln-/Detail.bok


http://www.amazon.com/Chronicles-Chanute-Crossing-Book-ebook/dp/B008AE9T7S/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1339428113&sr=1-2

Review




Nurtured in Purple, Jude Urbanski's second installment of her wonderful series brings the reader back to charming Chanute Crossing. Her writing style is unique and draws you right into the storyworld. It's the skill of a gifted author who can take two rather despicable characters from the first book, Willard Wittenberg and Elizabeth Koger, and make them likable to the point of understandable-and even more surprising-lovable. She makes them relatable because of their respective backgrounds, and explores their vulnerabilities and insecurities. In spite of their personal vendettas and need for revenge, you'll find yourself still rooting for this couple because they want to do better and need one another. Theirs is a sweet and touching love story. This book is also a sentimental reunion with Seth and Kate Orbin from the first book, Joy Restored, and Ms. Urbanski's terrific "cast" of supporting characters return as well. Seth and Kate endure trials of their own, but overcome the odds and model Christian faith and forgiveness in action to a skeptical and resistant Willard and Elizabeth. Grace, redemption and love abound, and this book will leave you smiling. A bonus "romance" is also included, and oh, how sweet it is! All-around, this is a terrific read and I very highly recommend it.

Fiesty Friday with Dave Butler

Excerpt from Liahona is used by permission of the author.

He clambered down into a kneeling position between the two bunks and dug for a box of lucifers in his pocket. With a practiced twitch of the wrist, he snapped a match along the outside of the box, and it sputtered into flame—

a hard-toed boot kicked Jed Coltrane in the face, and his vision exploded into stars.

“The hell!?” he yelled, and tried to roll away.

For his trouble, another kick crashed into his ribs and he spun through the air, slamming hard into the iron door of the cabin.

Forget the knife. Jed pulled the Pinkerton’s gun from under his arm and squeezed the trigger. Zing! Zing! The odd weapon only flared slightly in the pitch black cabin, but as the bullets clanged off the room’s walls and bit their way into the furniture, they threw up sparks, enough for Jed to see a shadowy form looming up in front of him.

Damn thing didn’t seem to have legs—
zing!—
the boot, or maybe it wasn’t a boot after all, smashed Jed’s gun hand and his lost his grip on the pistol, which disappeared into the gloom.

“Damn you—” he shouted, and then a strong hand with long nails, almost like claws, grabbed his throat and threw him bodily to the floor, a knee on his chest and something cold and hard against his cheek.

He smelled lavender. And soap. Some sort of cloak fell around him, covering his chest and legs.

“Hold still, shorty, or I’ll cut out your eyeball.” The voice was so incongruously sweet that it took him a few seconds to realize that it was feminine.

Coltrane, you just got beat down by a woman.

The hand—the soft, sweet-scented hand—came away from his throat and he heard a click. A blue light sprang into being a few inches above his face, a glimmering globe held in the palm of a woman who was graceful, fierce, freckle-faced, cute as a button, and kneeling on Jed’s sternum. She wore dark goggles on her eyes and held a curving, vicious-looking knife to his face.

Not a woman, dammit. A girl. Poe’s gonna kill me.

Here is the Liahona Amazon link

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B008EPGDWC/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B008EPGDWC&linkCode=as2&tag=rock08a-20&l=as2&o=1&a=B008EPGDWC

And here is the Liahona Smashwords link:
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/175871

I am happy to announce that Deseret will be released this month as well.
  (Links below picture.)











Amazon:


http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B008NERR5Q/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B008NERR5Q&linkCode=as2&tag=rock08a-20

Smashwords:
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/206976

Could working with the Dead be Dangerous?

http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/-strse-301/Keller-County-Cops-Book/Detail.bok
Suspense excerpt from Deliverance from Evil:

"Are you enjoying school, dear?" Dr. Madeline's seemingly innocuous question rattled Tessa. The therapist smiled. "I assume you must like it, since you went back voluntarily."

"Yes," Tessa finally croaked. "I'm looking forward to graduating next year."

"So you can work with the dead."

"Yes." She fixed her gaze on the gun in the doctor's hand and gulped back the urge to flee. Trying something while Dr. Madeline stared at her would be suicide.

The therapist cocked her head. "Why'd you choose mortuary science, Tessa? Why do you want to work with dead people?"

"Because the dead can't hurt me," she answered, unable to stop the flow of words. And live people, especially gun toting nuts like you and perverts like Dempsey and Stuart, have the ability to mortally wound me. She fisted her hands and glared at her captor. "It's safer that way."

"Oh, I see." The therapist made a note on her pad. "Well... I suspect that must be a residual affect from your stepfather's abuse."

"Probably so," Tessa answered, her mind whirring. This session was far from normal, but for some reason she couldn't stop answering the woman's questions. Was she that starved for attention? That desperate to be heard?

Dr. Madeline sent her a sideways glance. "Are you seeing anyone?"

"Yes. No." She shook her head. I can't say anything about Cash, especially since he's a detective. That might send the doctor into a tailspin.

The therapist lifted her brows. "Yes and no? Please... go on."

"Well..." Tessa swallowed and eyed the umbrella she'd pegged as a weapon, then jerked her gaze off it. She didn't want to give her plan away. "I-I almost went out with someone not long ago, but decided against it. I'm... I'm just too busy with school and work."

"You need to marry and settle down. Start a family."

"I'll do that later." She squirmed in her seat "Once I've finished school."

"We often think we have all the time in the world, when we really don't," Dr. Madeline said, pinning Tessa to the chaise with a bitter gaze. She lifted the gun. "Isn't that right, dear?"

"I-I guess so." Tessa went rigid. The therapist's persona had changed yet again, switching from curious doctor to angry villain in the blink of an eye. Who would she be next?

The doctor got up and paced back and forth, the pistol glinting each time she passed the window. "I've done my best to help you, Tessa."

"I-I know you have." Afraid not to give the woman affirmation, Tessa slid forward on the chaise, inch by inch, and prepared to drop her feet to the floor. "You've helped me be happy."

"Not lately." Dr. Madeline spun. "You've ignored me."

"That's not true." Tessa halted, afraid to move, not wanting to draw any more attention to herself. She had to get to that umbrella, and keeping the doctor pacing and calm was the only way. The more agitated the woman became, the more likely she'd shoot. "I readily took your call last week, when you told me you'd moved your practice here."

"You were just being nice." The therapist wagged the gun, then marched back across the room.

Tessa signed in relief and slid a little farther toward the edge of the chaise. "Wasn't your goal to rescue me from a terrible situation and help me grow up healthy and strong?"

"Of course it was," Dr. Madeline snapped, her eyes riveted to the plush carpet.

Tessa took advantage of the woman's temporary lapse to put her feet on the floor and transfer her weight to her heels. The desk was only a few feet away. If she could make a big enough leap...

The doctor whirled and shouted, "You work with dead people! How is that normal?"

"It's a job. Someone's got to do it."

"Not my Tessa." Dr. Madeline stalked toward her. "What are you doing?"

"I-I have a cramp." Tessa clutched at the back of her thigh, took a step to her right, and pushed herself to her full height. So much for subterfuge. "I need to stand up."

"Get back on the chaise," the woman cried. She raised the pistol and aimed it at Tessa. "Right now! Move."

"No!" Tessa shouted, diving for the umbrella. Her fingers hit it and sent it tumbling to the floor. She went after it.

A shot rang out...
--
Melanie Atkins
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EMILY'S NIGHTMARE--Coming August 1--Desert Breeze Publishing
DELIVERANCE FROM EVIL--Available now!--Desert Breeze Publishing
BLOOD RITE--Available now!--Whiskey Creek Press

Saturday Simmers with May Williams' Cape May Serenade

Blurb:

Brad Stevens thinks he has life just where he wants it. He's back living in his hometown, restoring a house he loves, and building his carpentry business. When Carolyn Kent, a former USO singer, comes to Cape May one summer to perform, Brad's simple life gets complicated. He finds it easy to love Carolyn, but keeping her may be a difficult job. She has ambitions as a singer that could take her far from him. Will Brad's love and life in a beautiful seaside resort be enough to tempt Carolyn to stay or will she follow her dreams back to the big city?
http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/-strse-314/Cape-May-Serenade-May/Detail.bok


Excerpt:

Carolyn nearly burst with excitement when Brad finally pulled into his driveway and parked his truck next to the workshop. Not seeing her, he swung over the wooden side of the truck's bed and grabbed a large box of tools. She rushed to him, waving a letter in her hand when he dropped back to the ground.

"Brad, you're finally home." She launched herself into his arms. The box of tools clattered onto the ground, but they barely heard it during the kiss that followed.

"A man could get used to this kind of welcome home."

She slid down the front of his body. "I thought you'd be home earlier. I've missed you so much."

After a drink with Brad the other night, she left him and returned to the Grand Cape May to reason with her parents. They rebuffed her attempts to explain her relationship with Brad, and the next morning they were simply gone when she went to find them after breakfast. A job took Brad up the coast for a few days and left her too much time to think about him and the problem with her parents.

"I missed you and this." He swooped in for another kiss and ran his fingers through her hair.

"Ummm, you smell of wood and apple pie." Carolyn nuzzled his neck.

"Pie's in the cab. I don't always get paid in cash." He ran his hand down her back and over her bottom, tugging one of her legs up to wrap around his waist. "Why don't you come inside and have some pie with me?"

"Tempting." For a moment she was caught in a wave of heat and desire, then she remembered her reason for coming and pushed him back. "I want to show you my letter, and I don't have much time before tonight's show." He took the letter from her hand and scanned the contents. "I'm being offered a chance to record a demo in New York. Don't you see? This is what I've been hoping for."

"I'm happy for you." With his usual smile and a congratulatory kiss, he handed her the letter. "When do you go?"

"Early tomorrow. Eddie was able to call in a favor with another singer to cover for me."

"Will you be gone long?" He bent over to pick up the scattered tools.

"Through the weekend. I'll be back on Monday in time for my show." She squatted next to him to see his face, but she couldn't read his expression. "Brad, you are happy for me, right?"

"Yeah, of course," he reassured her. "It's what you want. I'm just imagining how you're going to knock'em dead."

"I hope so."

"I know you will." He hoisted the toolbox to his shoulder and walked to the workshop. "You'll be signing a recording deal before the weekend's over."

"Wouldn't that be wonderful? I've spent so much time wishing for this. I can't believe I finally get the chance."

"Will you stay with your parents in Manhattan?"

"I think it's best. Maybe I can talk to them, and they live close to the studio where I'll be recording." Carolyn leaned in the open door of the workshop while Brad returned tools to their places. "Why don't you come up over the weekend? How long's it been since you were in New York?"

"I have a few army buddies in the boroughs. We get together every few months."

"Then you're no stranger to the city. Please come."

"I don't know. I have a lot of work to do here." He gestured to the house with the hammer he held.

"Promise me you'll think about it at least. I'll leave their address with you." She glanced at the clock over his workbench. "I better get back for my evening performance, then I have to pack and be at the train station early."

"How long will it take you to pack tonight?"

"Not long. Why?"

"I'll pick you up at eleven."

She cocked her head to one side. "I have to catch the train at seven in the morning."

"Then we'll have eight hours before you go to be together." He came to her and rested his hands on her hips. "I want you to spend the night with me here."

"I can't look tired." She gazed into the depths of his gray eyes. Passion was there along with something she couldn't quite identify. Was it sadness or worry?

"I'll let you sleep -- some. And if I do my job right, you'll glow from head to toe." He put a soft kiss on her forehead.

http://www.amazon.com/May-Williams/e/B005KVEZNC/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1

Sizzle from "Decision to Love"

By: Michelle Sutton      
We ran out of Sundays for Michelle to Sizzle. This one is available on Amazon kindle and Nook It will be in paperback in July.

She gazed at him. Her attention slid to his lips. The signal sent a rush of warmth through him. She was giving him a signal he hadn't seen in a very long time. She wanted him to kiss her.

The parking lot was virtually empty, and except for a few cars scattered about, they were alone. He inched closer and rested his hands on her shoulders. She tilted her chin up and held his gaze.

For the first time in his life he was almost afraid to kiss her. He didn't want to lose her, but he didn't want to revert to the lover boy persona that charmed women in the past. He wanted to be real with her, and not worry about impressing her with his skills. He wanted to express his feelings of love for her. He just wanted her.

She didn't inch forward, but simply waited for him to make the next move. His throat suddenly parched, he forced himself to move past the fear and kiss her, hoping it would relax his nerves.

Lowering his head, he brushed his lips against hers. She had the softest, most pliable lips he'd ever made contact with, and he didn't want to stop. But after several long moments, he leaned back and gazed into her eyes. He had never kissed a woman so gently and yet with such passion before.

Charla smiled at him and said, "That was nice."

It was beyond nice, but he didn't want to say that. Who knew that a closed-mouth kiss would stir him so deeply? He wanted to kiss her again, but didn't want to rush things if it would upset her.

They needed to go slow if their relationship was going to last. Yet, he'd never wanted anything more in his life, and his voice sounded breathless as he said, "I would like to do that again."

She said in a tender voice, "I would like that, too."

Cupping her face, he lowered his mouth to hers again, and this time he moved his lips over hers. His heart pounded like never before and he knew for certain that he loved this woman. He loved her in a deeper way than he'd ever loved before.

His kiss had been motivated by love, and not just passion. Though his blood stirred and his body responded to her touch, this time it wasn't about lust.

Charla sighed against his lips and ran her fingers through his hair. He nearly wept from the pleasure her gentle touch brought. He never thought he'd fall in love again.

When he broke the kiss, he peered into her eyes and said, "I love the way I feel when I'm with you, Charla. I believe God gave you to me as a gift, and I will treasure you always."

Her eyes welled with tears and she smiled. He pulled her into his arms and rested his chin on the top of her head. Yes, his love for her ran deep, and yet they had only been dating two months. Granted, they'd spent nearly every day together over the past few weeks, and they enjoyed each other's company, but what he felt as he held her in his arms made him think about forever.

Michelle Sutton - Healing Hearts - fiction making an impact on real lives...

new titles releasing in 2012... Decision to Love, It's Not About Her, Somebody Love Me,

Out of Time, and Surprise Love    You can find me here...