Camy Tang's Blog, page 102

Excerpt - Danger in Amish Country by Marta Perry, Diane Burke, Kit Wilkinson

Danger in Amish Country
by Marta Perry, Diane Burke, Kit Wilkinson

LOVE AND DANGER COLLIDE IN THREE NEW AMISH NOVELLAS  Fall from Grace by Marta Perry When one of her students witnesses a crime, Sara Esch gets too close to the truth, and widower Caleb King must risk it all for the woman who's taught him to love again. Dangerous Homecoming by Diane Burke Katie Lapp needs her childhood friend Joshua Miller more than ever when someone threatens her late husband's farm. Can Joshua protect her…even if it endangers his heart? Return to Willow Trace by Kit Wilkinson A series of accidents has startled their Plain community…and leads Lydia Stoltz to Joseph Yoder, the man who once broke her heart. At every turn, it seems their shared past holds the key to their future.
Excerpt of chapter one:

Sara Esch smiled as her young scholars burst out into the autumn sunshine at the end of another school day. Even the best of Amish students couldn't help showing a bit of enthusiasm when freedom arrived at three o'clock each weekday afternoon, especially on Friday.

All except one, it seemed. Seven-year-old Rachel King hung back, her small face solemn, as if reluctant to leave her desk.

Sara tried not to let concern show in her expression as she approached the motherless child. Rachel had been in Sara's one-room school for less than a month, since she and her father arrived in Beaver Creek, coming to Pennsylvania from Indiana. That meant Sara didn't know Rachel as well as she did most of the kinner in her school.

Sara knelt next to the child and spoke softly, knowing her words would be masked by the chatter of the two eighth-grade girls whose turn it was to wash the chalkboards.

"Was ist letz, Rachel?" She asked the question in dialect. She always spoke Englisch in school, but the familiar tongue of home and family might put the child at ease. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Rachel's round blue eyes grew rounder still, as if she was surprised that her teacher had noticed. "Nothing is wrong, Teacher Sara."

Sara sat back on her heels, studying the small face. Rachel might have been any young Amish girl, with her blue eyes, rosy cheeks, and blond hair. Her plain blue dress and black apron were like those of every other little girl, too. But something was different about Rachel King, of that Sara was certain sure.

She took the child's hands in hers. "You can tell me if anything is troubling you, Rachel. I want you to be happy here in Beaver Creek."

Rachel's lips trembled, as if she were on the verge of speech. Then she looked over Sara's shoulder, and her expression lightened.

"Daed!" She ran to the man who filled the schoolhouse doorway.

So. Sara got slowly to her feet, mindful of Caleb King's gaze on her. His arrival meant she wouldn't hear anything more from Rachel today. But at least she could see that Rachel's problem, whatever it was, wasn't with her father. She would hate to have to deal with such an issue.

She took a step toward Caleb, smiling, and stopped when she encountered an icy glare. His face was set in severe lines above the warm chestnut of his beard, and Caleb's gaze seemed an accusation. Her heart gave an uncomfortable thump.

Caleb patted his daughter's head. "Go out and play on the swings. I need to talk to Teacher Sara."

Sara caught a swift flare of panic in the child's face at the prospect of going outside. She moved toward them.

"Perhaps Rachel could help with washing the boards," she suggested. "We might step out onto the porch to talk."

Caleb's gray-blue eyes grew steely with annoyance, probably at her interference, but he nodded. He stepped back and held the door open like a command.

Sara pushed Rachel gently toward the chalkboard. "Lily and Lovina, you'll like to have Rachel help you for a bit, ain't so?"

Lily looked a tad mulish at the prospect, but gentle Lovina seemed to take the situation in and smiled, holding out her hand to the child.

"Ya, komm, Rachel."

The little girl ran toward her happily enough. Satisfied, Sara stepped through the door, very aware of Caleb's looming presence behind her. He had a complaint, it seemed.

The door clicked shut.

"What has happened at school to bring my child home so upset she could not even eat her supper?" Caleb didn't give Sara time to turn around before he threw the words at her. "And to give her nightmares, as well? I don't expect this at an Amish school."

Stiffening at the implication she was at fault, Sara made an effort to keep her expression calm as she faced the man. "I noticed that Rachel seemed upset today. I was just trying to get her to tell me what was wrong when you came in."

And whatever it is, I am not to blame, she added silently. Nothing was more important to her than her scholars—they were the only kinner she was ever likely to have.

"You didn't scold her for anything yesterday?" Caleb didn't look mollified. "Or let another child bully her?"

"Certainly not. Bullying is not tolerated in my classroom." She took a deep breath, reminding herself not to let the man's antagonism rouse her temper. Even teachers in Amish schools had to learn to deal with troublesome parents. "I am as puzzled as you are. Maybe together we can figure out how to handle this problem."

She met his gaze steadily, and after what seemed a very long moment, she had the satisfaction of seeing some of his antagonism fade.

"Sorry. I didn't mean… Ach, I was worried."

Caleb seemed to realize belatedly that he still wore his black hat. He took it off, revealing hair the same chestnut as his beard. His face was lean and austere close-up, and there were fine lines around his cool eyes. He was a widower, so the rumors ran, his wife having died after a long illness. It was natural that he'd be protective of his only child. But not natural at all that he should immediately assume she was at fault.

Sara gathered her scattered wits to concentrate on the problem at hand. "I thought Rachel seemed a little reluctant to leave school yesterday. That's why I made sure the Miller children walked along with her. She didn't give you any idea of what was troubling her?"

Caleb shook his head, worry deepening the lines in his face. "When I heard her crying in the night, she sounded so afraid. The only thing she said made no sense. She said Der Alte would get her."

"The Old Man?" Relief swept through Sara. "So that's it."

"What's it?" Caleb demanded, his fists clenching. "Who is this old man who frightened my child?"

"Ach, it's not real." She put her hand on his arm in an automatic gesture of reassurance and felt taut muscle beneath the fabric of his coat. She pulled her hand away as if she'd touched something hot, realizing she was probably blushing. She'd treated him as she would one of her three brothers, but he was a stranger, despite being Amish.

"Komm." She moved quickly off the schoolhouse porch, just as glad to turn her back on him. "I'll show you."

The schoolhouse sat in the fertile Beaver Creek Valley. Amish farms stretched out on either side, while in front of the school-house the long lane led to the paved county road that entered the town of Beaver Creek a bit over a mile east.

Sara turned away from the road, heading across the playground behind the school. Here the ground sloped down to the creek for which the valley was named.

On the other side of the creek the wooded ridge went sharply upward, seeming to lean over the valley protectively. No year-round houses had been built there, but the ridge was dotted with hunting cabins that would be busy during deer season.

"Where are you going?" Caleb's long strides kept up with hers. "Are you going to answer me about this old man? Does he live back here?"

"In a way." She raised her arm to point. "See that rocky outcropping? Watch what happens when we move just a little farther."

A few steps took them to the spot where the rocky cliff suddenly took on a different aspect, its sharp edges forming what a child's imagination might see as the profile of an old man.

A quick glance at Caleb's face showed that he understood.

"Der Alte," she said. "The kinner call it that. I forgot that you wouldn't know."

Caleb stared at the rocky profile, frowning. "Ya, I see. But I don't understand what there is about it to frighten her so."

"Nor I." Her voice firmed. "But I mean to find out. If one of the older scholars has been telling scary stories to the young ones, that is not—" She broke off, her gaze arrested by something dark at the base of the cliff face. "Look there. That…that almost looks like—"

"A person." Caleb finished for her. "Someone is lying there."

Caleb's thoughts fled to Rachel. But his little girl was safe enough in the schoolroom, and if someone was lying hurt across the creek, he must go help.

"Go back to the kinner," he said shortly. "I'll see what's happened." He didn't take more than a few steps before realizing that Teacher Sara was right behind him. He swung around, exasperated. "I said—"

"If someone is hurt, it's better we both go. Then one can stay with the injured person while the other runs for help."

A look at her stubborn face told him arguing would do no good. Heaven preserve him from a headstrong woman. Not wasting his breath, he ran toward the creek.

"This way," she said, panting a little. "Stepping-stones."

He nodded and veered after her as she headed downstream. No doubt the teacher knew the area better than he did. If the man was injured badly enough to need a stretcher, she'd know the best way for emergency workers to get to him, as well as the closest telephone.

And if it was worse? He didn't have a clear line of sight now, but that dark form had been ominously still. Well, he'd tried to protect Teacher Sara from going. If she saw something bad, it was her own fault.

She was already starting across the stream, jumping lightly from one flat stone to another. He followed, but when they reached the other side, he took the lead again, brushing through the undergrowth toward the base of the cliff.

They broke through into the pebbly scree at the bottom of the cliff. Any hope he'd had that the form was an animal or fallen log vanished.

Sara reached the man first. She dropped to her knees, her skirt pooling around her, and put her fingers on his neck. Caleb could tell her that she wouldn't find a pulse. No one could still be alive when his head looked like that. The poor man didn't have a chance.

Moving quickly to her, Caleb took Sara's arm. "Komm," he said, his voice gruff. "There's nothing you can do."

He helped her up, eyeing her face. If she was going to faint on him. But though her normally pink cheeks were dead white, Teacher Sara seemed to have herself in hand.

"Poor man," she murmured, and he thought she was praying silently, as he was.

"Do you know him?" He drew her back a step or two, keeping his hand on her elbow in case she was unsteady on her feet.

Sara shook her head. "Englisch," she said unnecessarily. If the man had been Amish, she'd certainly have known him. "He looks fairly young." Her tone was pitying.

Young, ya. The fellow wore jeans and boots, like so many young Englischers. Dark hair, with a stubble of beard on his chin. He looked… Caleb sought for the right word. He looked tough. That was it. Like someone you might not want to get on the wrong side of.

But they couldn't stand here wondering about him. "It doesn't seem right to leave the poor man alone. If I stay with him, can you see to calling the police?" Amish usually tried to steer clear of entanglement with the law, but their duty was clear in this case.

"Ya." Sara took a step back, away from the support of his hand. "There's an Englisch house not far. They'll have a phone. And then I'll stay with the kinner"

"My Rachel." His gaze met Sara's. "You don't think she could have seen this?" He gestured toward the body, his mind rebelling at the thought of his little girl viewing anything so gruesome.

"No." Sara seemed to push the idea away with both hands. "I don't think… Surely he hasn't been lying there since yesterday."

"It's possible." He looked up at the cliff face above them. From this angle it just looked like a jumble of rocks. "If she was standing where we stood…" He stopped, looking at Teacher Sara accusingly. "You shouldn't let the kinner go so far from the school."

"It is the edge of the playground," she said, a touch of anger like lightning in her green eyes. "The scholars are never out of my sight when they have recess."

"Sorry," he muttered.

He shouldn't blame Teacher Sara, when the thing that troubled him was his own inability to get his child to confide in him. Rachel had been so distant and solemn since her mother's death, as if all Rachel's laughter had been buried with Barbara.

"I'll go now," Teacher Sara said, turning away stiffly.

He let his gaze linger on her slender figure until the undergrowth hid her from sight. No matter how long this took, he knew instinctively that she would stay with Rachel. She'd attempt to comfort his little girl.

But if Rachel really had seen this man lying dead… His thoughts stuttered to a halt as something even worse occurred to him. What if his little girl had seen the man fall?
Order:
Harlequin.com
Harlequin.com (Large Print)
Harlequin.com (ebook)

Barnes and Noble
Barnes and Noble (Large Print)
Nookbook

Amazon.com
Amazon.com (Large Print)
Kindle

Christianbook.com

Booksamillion.com
Booksamillion.com (Large Print)
Booksamillion.com (ebook)

Kobobooks.com (ebook)

iTunes (ebook)

You can also purchase this book from any of the stores found at CBA Storefinder.

Excerpt - Killer Assignment by Maggie K. Black

Killer Assignment
by Maggie K. Black

FRONT PAGE NEWS: MURDER! Journalist Katie Todd wanted her name as a byline on the front page, not in the obituaries. When an assignment goes very wrong, she finds herself pursued by ruthless kidnappers. Her only hope is the enigmatic and handsome Mark Armor. All clues point to him being the enemy of her enemy, but is he a friend—or something much more dangerous? Every move Mark makes to help Katie brings him closer to the life he left behind, but he can't say no to the beautiful writer. Will the secrets of his past put Katie in even more danger?
Excerpt of chapter one:

Katie Todd tightened her grip on the handle of her suitcase and tried to pretend she didn't know she was being watched. The sun had set long before her train had dropped off its few remaining passengers in Cobalt. Now damp, dark air hung over the tiny northern Ontario town, thick with the threat of rain. Behind her back, the lake spread out as still as a shadow. The small station was deserted except for one lone figure, lounging against a lamppost.

The young man had boarded the same train as she did in Toronto. He was in his late teens—twenty at most—and had sat there, hunched in the corner with his hands plunged deep into the pockets of a shapeless gray sweatshirt. When the conductor had announced, a couple of hours into their journey, that the train would be going out of service in the small town of Cobalt due to a rockslide on the tracks ahead, most passengers had opted to get off in the larger city of North Bay to either catch a replacement bus or find a hotel for the night. Only a handful of people had ridden the train to its final stop. Then, as the other passengers disappeared up the hill toward the gray shapes of town, the young man had stayed behind. His sharp eyes peered at her from underneath the brim of a baseball cap. They followed her as she moved. Katie shivered. Where was her taxi?

She never should have trusted Ethan Randall. When she'd managed to reach her boss at Impact News to warn him she was going to be delayed in reaching her assignment, the editor had insisted she take the train all the way to the end of the line, promising the newspaper would arrange transportation from there. Then her cell phone reception had dropped out, cutting off the call before she could even argue. She hadn't been able to get a signal back since.

Chances were Ethan hadn't even been listening. But you didn't last long at Impact if you didn't go where you were told. To call his management style chaotic was an understatement. The self-centered playboy didn't plan so much as react—changing assignments on a whim and then yelling at his staff for struggling to catch up.

This weekend was a perfect example. Here she'd been planning on getting her hands dirty at a fall cleanup event in Toronto's Don Valley. Instead, he'd sent her up north to cover the weekend gala that real estate developer Jonah Shields was holding on his private estate. Shields was exactly the kind of irresponsible businessman she'd become a journalist to expose. Now here she was expected to write some ridiculous fluff piece about how lovely his party was.

If all went according to plan, Ethan wouldn't be her boss much longer. But if she wanted to keep her job long enough to scoop his job out from under him, she couldn't afford to mess up a single assignment. Even if the taxi he'd promised to arrange was nowhere to be seen. She tried her cell phone again. Still no signal. Probably because he'd changed their work phones recently, and their new service provider had no coverage this far north.

So, no taxi. No phone. Just a dark, empty train platform growing colder by the second and a stranger's threatening glare. She took a deep breath and ran both hands through long, blond hair, the color of pure honey. Okay. She'd sort it out somehow. She always did.

The tiny town lay dark and silent ahead of her, barely more than a smattering of buildings, framed by the shadow of the old mine. Surely there would be something open in town and someone who'd let her use a phone. She extended the handle of her suitcase and started across the parking lot. The young man followed.

There was the sound of tires screeching. A white delivery van was speeding toward the station. It swerved into the parking lot and stopped short in front of her. She jumped back. The man behind the wheel was huge, with a camouflage jacket and the grim, scarred face of someone who'd been in more than his fair share of fights. "Katie Todd?"

A cold shiver shot up the base of her spine. But she forced a polite smile onto her face. "Yes?"

"I'm Al. I'm here to pick you up." There was no company name on the van and no windows in the back, either. The bottom of the chassis was pockmarked with rust, and the whole thing stunk of fuel. Whatever this van was used for delivering, it sure wasn't people.

"I'm afraid there's been some kind of mix-up," she said. "I was waiting for a taxi."

Al smirked. "Hop in." Something cold and dark flickered in the back of his eyes. "I'll take you where you need to go."

The van didn't even have a license plate. No way even Ethan could've messed things up this badly. She stepped back and nearly bumped into the teenager who'd followed her from the train.

"Hey, Billy!" Al waved a big hand toward the kid. "How about you open a door for Ms. Todd?"

Billy snickered.

She slid both hands onto the handle of her suitcase and tightened her grip. "Thanks. But I feel like a walk."

Al's grin faded. He nodded to Billy. "Grab her." He threw the van's back door open. For a second, she caught a glimpse of a bare, empty space with a blanket and roll of duct tape on the floor.

Billy lunged. She swung her suitcase around hard with both hands, then let go, launching twenty pounds of laptop and clothes directly into the teenager's chest. He stumbled back. She ran, expecting any moment to feel hands grabbing her, pulling her back. For a second, she started up the road toward town. But when she heard the van's engine turn over, she swerved right and dove down the grassy hill toward the railway tracks. She'd never be able to outrun them on the road. But if she made it as far as the train tracks they'd be forced to chase her on foot.

Her feet slipped on wet fall leaves. She hit the tracks and pitched forward, falling onto her hands and knees. Billy was slithering down the hill behind her. Katie gasped for breath, stumbled to her feet and forced herself to sprint.

The tracks lay ahead of her, disappearing into the blackness, between ragged cliffs on her left and the lake to her right. She could hear Billy's footsteps pounding down the tracks behind her now. She didn't risk looking back. Didn't dare slow. Couldn't let herself wonder why someone would try to kidnap her. Or what they'd do to her if she were caught.

A light flickered on the cliffside in front of her. Then the small beam swung across her path, like someone waving a flashlight.

She hesitated. Billy leaped on her from behind, grabbing her around the knees. He forced her to the ground, pressing her body into the railway slats. She screamed. His hands clamped around her ankles. He dragged her backward down the tracks. Her hands clutched desperately at the rails.

"Hey!" a male voice shouted. "Leave her alone!" Someone was scrambling down the cliff.

Billy's hand snapped to the back of her neck. Skinny fingers clenched the soft skin at the sides of her throat. "Don't move," he barked in her ear. "Or I'll kill you."

The tall figure of a man landed on the tracks in front of them. "Let her go." The voice was strong, deep and dark with the barely concealed hint of a growl. She couldn't see his face.

Billy knelt up, his hand remaining firmly clenched on her neck. A bony knee pressed into the small of her back. The weight of his body forced the air from her lungs. "Back off! I've got a gun, and I'm not afraid to use it." The tremor in his voice made her suspect he was lying, but when she tried to speak, she couldn't manage more than a whimper. "This is between me and her. Just turn around, walk away and pretend you didn't see a thing."

"I'm afraid I can't do that." He lunged at Billy, yanking him off her so suddenly the boy yelped in surprise as he was tossed beside the tracks like a sack of bones.

Strong arms reached down toward her. Hands clasped her arms in a motion firm yet surprisingly gentle. "Hey. Are you okay?" She nodded, using his strength to pull her shaking body to its feet.

The crack of a gunshot split the night air. Billy had fired wildly, the bullet flying off into the darkness beyond. In a heartbeat, her rescuer threw himself between her and Billy, shielding her with his body. But all that followed was the click of Billy's gun jamming. The teenager swore. He scrambled to his feet and ran back down the railway tracks.

The man sighed. "Nothing more stupid than a novice waving a gun around. They pretty much never hit what they're aiming at." He unclipped a flashlight from his belt and switched it on. Light brushed along the stubble of his jawline. He was tall, with well-worn jeans and the kind of sturdy shoulders that implied their owner was more at home in a thick and wild forest than inside the walls of an office cubicle.

"If he had a gun, why not pull it out earlier?" She was relieved to feel her reporter's instincts kicking in. As long as she focused on asking questions, she'd be able to stay in control of her emotions.

"My guess is he wanted to take you alive."

Her knees buckled. She glanced past him down the tracks, the desire to run as far as she could from the terror behind her battled with legs that threatened to crumble beneath her. For a moment, she fought the urge to let herself fall into his arms and cry. But instead, she planted her feet firmly beneath her. They were still alone, at night, caught in the dark empty space between a cliffside and a lake. Hardly the time and place to let herself fall apart. Besides, this man could be anybody.

"What happened?" His fingers brushed along her arm. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine. Thank you. I just arrived at the train station, and two strangers tried to force me into a van."

She swallowed hard and forced her legs to walk, slowly at first, but knowing that each step would take them farther away from the men who had tried to kidnap her. "Where did you even come from?"

He matched his pace to hers. "There's a path that cuts down the cliffside. I was sitting on a ledge halfway up when I heard you scream."

"Alone? In the dark?"

He blinked. "I was testing some broadcast equipment. I'm an engineer of sorts, and broadcasting a radio signal off cliffs like these over still water are pretty much ideal conditions for testing signal strength. I just thank God that I decided to do it when and where I did." He said the last bit with a bit more emphasis than she was used to. His hand hovered just behind her shoulders, just enough to let her know that his arm was there in case she wanted the support. "But are you sure you're okay?"

She paused long enough to let her gaze meet his. The lines of his face were tough and unflinching, which belied a more tender mouth than she was expecting. But it was the depth of concern reflected in his deep eyes that almost made her legs give way. She stepped away from his outstretched arm. He slid his hands into his pocket. "I'm fine, Mr….?"

"Mark. Mark Armor."

"Thank you for your help, Mark." Her voice sounded more formal than she'd been intending. But it wouldn't hurt him to realize she was hardly some damsel in distress. Last thing she wanted was another man thinking he could save her.

"I'm Katie Todd."

She stuck out her hand for a handshake. A curious smile curved up at the corner of his lips. But he took her hand and shook it up and down firmly. Then his fingers lingered over hers. Come on, Katie. Get hold of yourself. It's not like you can just count on a handsome stranger to step in and save you.

"The priority right now is reporting this to the police." She pulled her hand away. "Obviously, the sooner I make a report, the better. But the last I checked I couldn't get a cell phone signal. Do you know where I can find a phone?" There was that smile again on Mark's lips. Like he couldn't figure out whether to be amused or impressed.

"Most cell providers have no coverage this far north. Here, you can use my phone."

Mark reached into his pocket and pulled out an awkwardly shaped silver device that looked like a cross between a smart phone and a Smith & Wesson revolver. Katie ran her gaze all the way from the depth of his eyes down to the mud on his leather boots. Right, so well-worn jeans and a high-tech phone and he was testing broadcast equipment after dark in the middle of nowhere. Oh, right, and he wasn't the least bit fazed by being shot at. What was wrong with this picture? "That's actually a phone? I've never seen anything like it."

"I built it."

"You can actually get a signal with it here?"

"It's a satellite phone. The signal bounces off a satellite in orbit instead of using cell towers. I can get a signal pretty much anywhere in the world with it, no matter how distant or remote." Something in the way he said it made her think that he'd actually tried. "Is there anyone else we should be contacting? Were you traveling with anyone? Or was there someone who was supposed to be meeting you?"

"I'm just up here for work." On a nonsense assignment that was quickly unraveling before it even started. "I'm a reporter for a newspaper in Toronto." And hopefully its editor soon, once she managed to get Ethan out of the way. "How about you? I'm guessing from your gear you're with some kind of secret international law enforcement?"

Mark laughed. "Hardly. I run a small disaster-relief charity called Technical Response United Solution Teams—or TRUST for short. We travel around the world helping local charities respond to humanitarian crises and disasters mostly by designing and building different gadgets and equipment to help them."

Disaster relief. Perfect. She took the phone and dialed 911.
Order:
Harlequin.com
Harlequin.com (Large Print)
Harlequin.com (ebook)

Barnes and Noble
Barnes and Noble (Large Print)
Nookbook

Amazon.com
Amazon.com (Large Print)
Kindle

Christianbook.com

Booksamillion.com
Booksamillion.com (Large Print)
Booksamillion.com (ebook)

Kobobooks.com (ebook)

iTunes (ebook)

You can also purchase this book from any of the stores found at CBA Storefinder.

Interview and giveaway - A RELUCTANT COURTSHIP by Laurie Alice Eakes

Today I get to interview Laurie Alice Eakes on her newest release, A RELUCTANT COURTSHIP.

About Laurie Alice:

“Eakes has a charming way of making her novels come to life without being over the top,” writes Romantic times of  bestselling, award-winning author Laurie Alice Eakes. Since she lay in bed as a child telling herself stories, she has fulfilled her dream of becoming a published author. To date, she has sixteen books in print with five more under contract for release over the next two years. Eight of her books have been published in large print editions, one as a Crossings Bookclub hardcover edition, and one book has been put into Braille.

A graduate of Asbury University with a degree in English and French, and Seton Hill University, with a masters degree in Writing Popular Fiction, she also writes articles in writers publications, teaches writing workshops, and gives inspirational talks.

She lives in Texas with her husband, dogs, and cats. She enjoys long walks, all too rare rainy days, and knitting—rather badly—while watching movies or listening to music.

And now, here’s me and Laurie Alice!

1. What inspired you to write  A Reluctant Courtship?

Since I like to go in other directions than the norm, I kept thinking opposite other books I read. One question I asked myself was: What if a heroine decides to go along with her father's wishes for an arranged marriage instead of fighting against it, as usual. She's a heroine who wants to marry and is so disillusioned with love that a mariage de convenable sounds great to her. So, in other words, a desire to deliver a story outside the norm inspired me.

2. Tell us what makes your heroine and hero special to you.

Honore is a truly loving person who wants everyone happy. I have lived with her for two other books and have maternal feelings toward her, so writing her story was like spending time with an old friend I loved, but also shook my head at and wanted to force to take good advice.

As for the hero, I like to put people into a wholly foreign—to them—element. Here he is, a man raised in the wilds of upstate New York, suddenly inheriting an English title. He doesn’t like to ride horses. He doesn’t like being idle. He thinks nothing of walking five miles to get to his destination instead of taking a carriage. Lots of fun to work with.

3. If your hero and heroine had a contemporary theme love song, what would it be and why?

This question sent me running to the pop station on my satellite radio, since I don’t listen to pop all that much. Two songs kind of work:  “Just Give Me a Reason” by Pink and “Need You Now” by Lady Antebellum. The first one because Honore needs lots of reason to love again. Unlucky in love is putting her situation mildly. “Need You Now” because they both try to resist their lure to one another despite good reasons for staying away, and yet they need one another.

Not to be a prude, because I am certainly not one, and I don’t recommend or advise some of the other sentiments in these songs.

4. What is your favorite dessert and why?

Something I haven't eaten in a long time, not because I haven't wanted to, and because I haven't been anywhere that serves it and am certainly not making for myself:  chocolate mousse cake with chocolate ganache icing. Key words in the answer as to why: chocolate, cake, mousse, ganache. Need I say more?

5. Is there another Regency-set book that you would compare A Reluctant Courtship to?

I haven't run across one, and, believe me, I've read dozens. But then, I set out to write one that was different. In tone, though, probably Patricia Veryan meets Amanda Quick.

I'd love input from readers on whether or not they can compare it to another book. Please write me at laewriter@gmail.com, or find me on Twitter @LaurieAEakes

Camy: Thanks for the interview, Laurie Alice!

For a chance to win a $10 Amazon or Barnes and Noble gift card today, go to my post on Regency Reflections and answer the question there in the comment section. I’ll pick the winner for the $10 gift card tonight at 11:59 pm PST. If you answer the question on that post, your name will also be entered into our Regency Grand Prize giveaway in honor of the release of A Reluctant Courtship. The giveaway includes a tea cup, a package of tea, a box of chocolates and a $10 gift card (to either Amazon or Barnes and Noble). (Click here for more information on the Regency Grand Prize giveaway.)

I also have a book giveaway here on my blog!

A Reluctant Courtship
By
Laurie Alice Eakes

A woman without a prospect. A man without a homeland. Can love give them a future?

Honore Bainbridge has been courted by two men, one of whom turned out to be a traitor, the other a murderer. Banished to her family's country estate, where she will hopefully stay out of trouble, she finally meets the man she is sure is exactly right for her: Lord Ashmoor. Tall, dark, and handsome--what more could a girl ask for?

But he too is under suspicion because of his American upbringing and accusations that he has helped French prisoners escape from Dartmoor Prison. If he's to keep out of a British prison himself and secure his place in British society, Lord Ashmoor needs a wife beyond reproach--something the vexingly beautiful Honore certainly is not. Though they find themselves drawn to each other, family obligations may conspire to keep them apart forever.

For the sake of her heart, Honore determines to prove Ashmoor's innocence--even if doing so risks her own life.

From the first sentence, award-winning author Laurie Alice Eakes thrusts you into high drama amid the rocky cliffs of Devonshire, England, and keeps you suspended there until the final page.

Order:
Barnes and Noble
Nookbook

Amazon.com
Kindle

Christianbook.com
Christianbook.com (ebook)

Booksamillion.com

Kobobooks.com (ebook)

iTunes (ebook)

You can also purchase this book from any of the stores found at CBA Storefinder.

To enter:

You must join my email newsletter to be eligible for this contest. Fill out the form below. Be sure to read the rules.

Extra Twitter entries: Get one extra entry per day if you tweet about this giveaway:
Christian Regency Romance giveaway Laurie Alice Eakes A RELUCTANT COURTSHIP! http://is.gd/FbVyfv @camytang
(Be sure to include @camytang so I can see your tweet and give you your extra entry.)

Extra Facebook entries: Get one extra entry per day if you share this Facebook post on your own Facebook profile and/or page: https://www.facebook.com/CamyTangAuthor/posts/10151752369447620
(Be sure you share the post at the link above--go to the link and then click "share". Make sure you set the privacy of your share to “public” so I can see that you shared it and give you your extra entry even if I’m not on your friends list.)

Loading...

Excerpt - SEAL Under Siege by Liz Johnson

SEAL Under Siege
by Liz Johnson

SHE'S NOT SAFE YET When Staci Hayes is rescued from a Mideast prison by navy SEAL Tristan Sawyer, she thinks the ordeal is over. But back in San Diego, a new threat arises. Staci has information that could prevent a hit on U.S. soil, and the terrorist will stop at nothing to silence her. Tristan insists on being her bodyguard, but his constant presence makes her long for things beyond her reach. Protecting Staci is the second chance Tristan needs to put the past behind him. Yet with a spy on the naval base, anyone could be a threat. Can he offer her safety…and love? Men of Valor: These navy SEALS were born to excel….
Excerpt of chapter one:

Lt. Tristan Sawyer whispered into the mic that brushed the corner of his mouth. "Rock, are you in position?"

Night hung over him like a blanket, wrapping up all of his senses, except his hearing, as he waited for the sound of his senior chief's voice. "Affirmative."

Across the street Petty Officer Will Gumble lurked next to the window of a crumbling single-story home. The house—not even a mile from the Persian Gulf—had been cleaned out, probably weeks ago, and Willie G. had swept it again to make sure there wouldn't be any surprises when they moved in on their target.

He took two short breaths and lifted his night vision goggles, giving the street another check. It was deserted except for the five stonelike figures hidden along the street. He spotted them only because he knew they were there. He'd scouted and scoped each location in preparation for this moment. He'd studied the maps and floor plans, packed his gear and prepared his mind.

All for this moment.

His blood began to pump harder, picking up speed. He tightened, then loosened his grip on the weapon in his hand, forcing his breath into a steady rhythm and his heart into an even pattern.

He was ready. But he had to wait for the signal that their boats were nearly in place at the extraction point. If they moved too soon, they'd recover the "packages"—three American hostages—but have no place to deliver them. If they waited too long, they left the inflatable boats open to discovery.

Timing was everything, so he schooled his muscles, keeping them alert yet relaxed until the signal. A double click came through his earpiece. Time to rock and roll.

"Let's go." Just like they'd practiced, he swung around the back of the building where Senior Chief Matt Water-stone, also known as Rock, wrenched open a window on the basement level and slid into the darkness below. Tristan followed suit until his shoulder caught on the frame. He wiggled, his feet still not quite on the floor.

The team was on radio silence for this part of the mission, but he didn't need to see or hear his best friend to know Matt was laughing at him.

After what felt like an hour suspended by the snagged shoulder of his battle dress uniform, he reached across his body and yanked on it until it let go with a tear.

He dropped to his feet, squatting and squinting into the dark, his weapon at the ready. On the far side of the box of a room, the door cracked open and light filtered in. The weak sliver of a stream made it only halfway across the floor, but it did illuminate Matt's gloved hand on the edge of the door.

Tristan moved forward, staying low. They'd done this enough to know the drill. He would move first down the hallway, Matt positioned at his six—covering his blind spot. Back-to-back, they'd sweep the basement, looking for the packages. Intel said there were two women and a man.

They had been held here for at least three weeks, though word of their captivity had just reached the SEAL teams.

Only God knew what the three had endured. At least two of them were in their sixties. The people of Lybania tended to respect their elders. As for the girl in her twenties…

A shiver ran down his spine. He couldn't think about that. He had to get her free and secure first. Once they were all safely out of this pit and away from men who kidnapped aid workers for no reason, he'd let the ones trained to deal with her situation handle it.

For now, he'd do what he was trained to.

Matt motioned for them to stop, opening a door with the toe of his boot. He must have encountered less resistance than he expected, since it flung open like a piece of paper on hinges, flapping against the opposite wall.

Tristan shook his head at Matt, who shrugged a shoulder and offered a smirk by way of apology for the unnecessary noise. Luckily, the walls of the building could have been from the biblical era, all crumbling blocks that muffled errant doors and shuffling feet. Matt led the way into the room, clearing it before stepping back into the hallway.

With two fingers, Tristan pointed toward the stairwell at the end of the hall. Matt nodded, taking the rear as they climbed from the dimness of the basement into relative light. It wasn't much brighter than a full moon, but compared to the inky darkness below, the second floor radiated, removing any possibility of hiding in the shadows.

His earpiece clicked twice, and he swung his fingers in a quick barrel roll at Matt. They had fifteen minutes to get the American prisoners and get them to the extraction point on the gulf. No time to waste.

Matt nodded, held a hand to his ear and motioned to the door on his left. At least two voices carried through the wall, their Arabic words getting louder.

"Cards," he mouthed. Apparently someone was cheating. If there was no honor among thieves, there was less among kidnapping terrorists.

Tristan motioned that they should pass the door without incident if possible. Their mission wasn't to take down this cell or alert anyone to their presence. Their only job was to snatch and go.

The door to the room with the card game stood open about three inches, so he held up his hand, waiting for another argument as a diversion. They didn't disappoint, tempers exploding like one of Matt's C-4 bricks. In the fray the two SEALs bolted down the hall, passing three closed doors on each side.

An empty chair sat outside the last door on the right, the guard most likely wrapped up in the card game they'd passed.

Tristan jiggled the handle of the door, but it stuck in place. In a flash Matt was there by his side, his lock-picking kit in hand.

Tristan had known Matt since the first day of Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training and in all that time, he had yet to see a lock his friend couldn't pick. Man, it was a good thing Matt was on the teams. He'd be dangerous on the wrong side of the law.

Tristan held his weapon at the ready, standing guard until the old lock popped and the door swung in. He backed into the room, letting Matt take the first sweep and shutting out most of the noise and light from the hall with the closed door.

The space was empty save for two figures huddled in the corner, hands clasped together. He held a finger to his lips as he squatted in front of the shadowed, grandfatherly man. "I'm with the United States Navy." He whispered the words, which seemed intent on filling the entire room. "Are you Judith and Hank Timmons?"

The man's gray hair bobbed into the shard of light coming from the hallway. "Yes." It seemed to take all his energy just to utter the single syllable, and he slumped against his wife.

Tristan offered them both a reassuring grin and gently squeezed the man's bony elbow. "We're going to get you out of here. But I need you to move quickly and quietly and do exactly what I say. Do you understand?"

The couple nodded in unison, their faces drawn and weary but their eyes alight with hope. For good reason.

"This is my teammate." He motioned to Matt's towering shadow. "Ma'am, this is the senior chief. He's going to help you up and out the window."

She shook her head, holding on to her husband's arm with both hands. "I won't leave him."

"He'll be right behind you."

Matt squatted down in front of the woman and held out his hand. "I promise you'll be okay. There are more of our team outside, waiting for you. You don't want to make them miss the boat out of here, do you?"

She frowned for a split second before Matt had her on her feet and shuffling toward the window. Mr. Timmons wasn't going to let his wife out of his sight, so he pushed himself off the dusty floor, following closely behind.

Tristan glanced over his shoulder toward the empty hallway before whispering into his mic, "Second story, northwest corner."

"Copy that." Then a short pause before Willie continued, "We see you."

As Matt slipped a harness around Mrs. Timmons, she clutched at his flak vest, shaking him. "You have to help Staci. They took her last week."

"Do you know where they took her?"

Mrs. Timmons looked out the window she was about to be lowered through. "No."

"It'll be all right. Hang on tight and walk down the wall or you'll scrape against it. Got it?" Matt scooped the nodding woman into his arms, sliding her feet-first through the window, lowering her on the rope that slipped expertly through his hands.

The rope went slack for a moment, and then it was tugged twice, the signal from Willie G. that the package had arrived to them. Matt pulled it back up and immediately hooked it to a harness under Mr. Timmons's arms.

Tristan pressed his mic to his lip. "Second package on the way. The third has been moved. We'll search the rest of the building and meet you at the extraction point."

Willie clicked his mic twice—roger that—as Mr. Tim-mons slid through the window with a little help from Tristan and Matt.

Just as the rope went slack again, the door behind them cracked with the force of an angry kick. He and Matt both dove to the darkest parts of the room along opposite walls.

As he rolled, Tristan pulled his knife from his boot. Gunfire would draw unwanted attention from neighbors, which the team on the ground didn't need as they hustled two dehydrated, malnourished seniors down dark alleys.

The two new occupants swore loudly in Arabic as they ran into the room. They asked over and over where the old man and woman had gone, their words carrying down the hall where several more angry voices joined the fray.

Tristan caught Matt's eye across the room and didn't even have to signal. They knew what they were doing, knew what had to happen. Simultaneously, they each aimed for the man closest to them, quickly rendering each harmless with a blow to the neck.

His hand tingled as his Lybanian target—or "tango," as Tristan had been trained to call them—crumpled to the ground, and he wiggled his fingers. But there wasn't time to think about it more than that as five more men barreled into the room.

Letting his training and survival instincts take over, he spun to the left and dropped to the floor just as one of the men fired his semiautomatic into the wall. So much for avoiding gunfire. With a sweep of his leg, Tristan took the tango down at his ankles, even as his gun continued to discharge.

Caught by one of the stray bullets, another tango yelped and crashed into the wall, shaking the whole house, as though the ancient mud blocks were just waiting for an excuse to give way.

As he slumped to the floor, the tango yelled at one of the others to go kill the girl. The last to enter the room spun and ran back the way he had come.

"Be right back," Tristan yelled at Matt, who just grunted in response.

He charged down the narrow corridor toward the stairwell, praying he wouldn't be too late to save the last package.

Staci Hayes clutched a scrap of paper to her chest with both hands as the voices in the room below her rose to frantic cries, punctuated with the unmistakable sound of gunfire.

She sucked in a breath, fear making her shiver despite the heat that pushed her to the lowest point in the room.

Dear Lord, help Judy and Hank if that's where the guards are headed.

Something popped beneath her feet, and she scrambled into a corner, tucking her knees under her chin and staring into the impossible darkness. Always darkness.

A voice screamed a Lybanian curse, but his words were cut off in the middle of his rage. Something banged into one of the walls, shaking the whole house once again.

In the stillness that followed, she held herself together only by a string of prayers, her eyes still searching the thick darkness for any sign. Of what, she wasn't sure. This was clearly more than just another card game gone wrong. But what was causing such a struggle?

On shaking legs she pushed herself to stand, tucking the piece of paper beneath her collar and into the lining of her undershirt. She ran empty hands along the crumbling wall and turned the corner when she reached it. Silence still prevailed below as she reached the door, jiggling the locked handle for the hundredth time.

But this time when she pulled her hand back, it rattled again. Someone was out there.

Scurrying backward to her safe corner, she tripped on her floor-length robe and fell sprawled on her backside.

Just as she landed, the frame around the door splintered and the panel flew open. She threw her hands over her eyes, protecting them from the sudden glare of light added to her world, but not before she made out the silhouette of a man whose broad shoulders filled the empty frame.

He screamed at her in Arabic as he ran toward her corner, his words drowned out by the ringing in her ears.

And then there were two men, a second silhouette materializing behind the first. Her eyes were stinging from the light, blurring the images, but the second man pushed the first man, who crumpled to the ground.

It was a dream. It had to be. Or maybe her eyes without her contacts or glasses were playing tricks on her.

But no matter how hard she squinted, there were still two men, one on the ground and the other standing over him, looking gigantic and ominous with the backlighting casting his face in shadows. Breath catching in her throat and heart pounding painfully, she pulled her knees even closer, pressing her forehead against them and praying, not for the first time, that she had dreamed the whole ordeal.

She heard the second man cross the room and squat down at her side. "Are you Staci Hayes?" His words were so soft that she looked up to read his lips, but she couldn't miss her name there or the American accent she had only heard once in the previous week.

She nodded, but words failed her.

His white teeth flashed, and he pointed at himself. "I'm with the United States Navy. I'm here to get you safely back to the States." His ice-blue eyes flashed with a strength that expected to be obeyed.

She tried again to speak, but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. He put his hand on her arm, gentle yet firm. "Ms. Hayes, I'm going to get you out of here, but I need you to do everything I say quickly and without question."

"What—what about Judy and Hank?"

"They're safe." He looked over his shoulder at the guard he'd taken down, who still lay motionless. "Can you run?"

"Yes." But the shaking in her knees threatened to make her a liar, and she rubbed her hands up and down her shins.

"We've got to rock and roll, L.T."
Order:
Harlequin.com
Harlequin.com (Large Print)
Harlequin.com (ebook)

Barnes and Noble
Barnes and Noble (Large Print)
Nookbook

Amazon.com
Amazon.com (Large Print)
Kindle

Christianbook.com

Booksamillion.com
Booksamillion.com (Large Print)
Booksamillion.com (ebook)

Kobobooks.com (ebook)

iTunes (ebook)

You can also purchase this book from any of the stores found at CBA Storefinder.

Also, don’t forget that it’s Free Book Friday over at Harlequin.com--if you order two or more books, you’ll get their weekly featured book for free!

This week, the featured book is: A Love to Treasure by Irene Brand (Heartsong Presents)

Guest blog and contest - SEAL Under Siege by Liz Johnson

Today I have Liz Johnson guest blogging!

About Liz:

Liz Johnson grew up reading Christian fiction and always dreamed of being a part of the publishing industry. After graduating from Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff with a degree in public relations, she set out to fulfill her dream. In 2006 she got her wish when she accepted a publicity position at a major trade book publisher. While working as a publicist in the industry, she decided to pursue her other dream—becoming an author. While she was writing her first book, she completed the Christian Writers Guild apprentice course and wrote articles for several magazines.Liz lives in Colorado Springs, Colorado, where she enjoys theater, ice skating, volunteering in her church's bookstore and making frequent trips to Arizona to dote on her nephew and three nieces. She loves stories of true love with happy endings. The Kidnapping of Kenzie Thorn is her first novel. Keep up with Liz's adventures in writing through her Web site.
And now, here’s Liz!

The Beginning

I'm at the ACFW conference in Indianapolis this weekend. Three days, 600 writers, and countless beginnings. We start relationships. We start on new roads of learning. We start stories. Many of those stories this weekend are verbal, and they often start with questions. What's your family like? How did you end up living in Alaska? (By the way, that's a real question i asked this weekend.) How did you meet your spouse? My favorite spouse story this weekend is from my friend Michelle, who claims to have spiked a volleyball in her future husband's face. And the rest, as they say, is history.

But all these new starts have me thinking about how a book gets its start. What's the genesis? The germ of an idea that gets the story started? For some authors its a picture or a memory. For some it might be a character or a face, a trip or a nugget of history. Every author has his or her own starting point.

The most basic seed for my latest book, SEAL Under Siege, was planted almost ten years ago when I heard Dayna Curry and Heather Mercer speak about their captivity in a Middle Eastern prison. They'd been missionaries in Afghanastan. Thrown into prison for teaching Christianity. And ultimately rescued by US Special Forces. I loved their story from the moment I heard it. What strength and conviction it must have taken to survive months inside that prison. Months without the ability to communicate with family. Months without hope.

And yet they did have hope. In fact, they called their book Prisoners of Hope.

For years I wondered what it would be like to be in a prison and see a team of SEALs come to the rescue. That wondering led to the first chapter of SEAL Under Siege, where Tistan rescues Staci from prison. That was the seed, but the adventure that follows, well, that's all fictional.

Camy: That’s such a neat story! Thanks for being here today Liz!

Liz is also giving away a copy of her book!

SEAL Under Siege
by Liz Johnson

SHE'S NOT SAFE YET When Staci Hayes is rescued from a Mideast prison by navy SEAL Tristan Sawyer, she thinks the ordeal is over. But back in San Diego, a new threat arises. Staci has information that could prevent a hit on U.S. soil, and the terrorist will stop at nothing to silence her. Tristan insists on being her bodyguard, but his constant presence makes her long for things beyond her reach. Protecting Staci is the second chance Tristan needs to put the past behind him. Yet with a spy on the naval base, anyone could be a threat. Can he offer her safety…and love? Men of Valor: These navy SEALS were born to excel….
I (actually, Liz) is giving away a copy of SEAL Under Siege over at the Love Inspired Authors blog!

Click over to the Love Inspired Authors blog to enter.

Excerpt - In Pursuit of a Princess by Lenora Worth

In Pursuit of a Princess
by Lenora Worth

A PICTURE-PERFECT CRIME Princess Lara Kincade returned home to New Orleans to continue her late husband's humanitarian work. She also hopes to force his killer out of hiding. But a priceless painting has put her plans—and life—at risk. Embroiled in a deadly art scandal, Lara must depend on handsome photojournalist Gabriel Murdock to help her expose a murderer. Gabriel's determination to keep her safe has softened her heart to love's possibilities again. Somewhere among his photos lies the identity of the murderer, but can they uncover the killer before this heist turns deadly?
Excerpt of chapter one:

"You'll probably get bored following me around, Mr. Murdock."

Gabriel managed a smile, his gaze traveling over the regal woman standing in front of him. "I can't imagine that, Princess Lara. Many men would give their eye teeth to have my job right now."

The princess stiffened at that comment. "I'm well aware of the paparazzi camped out down near the front gate, Mr. Murdock. Those photographers are more than willing to sell their souls—and mine—for a picture of me. Why, I'll never comprehend. I've accepted that, but I don't have to like it. However, having a photojournalist follow me around day by day is going to be a bit daunting. And as I said, you'll get bored. My life is not as exciting as the tabloids seem to think."

Gabriel didn't want to feel sorry for the beautiful woman standing by the fireplace, but the grief and doubt on her face did look real. And she had suffered a great loss. "I'm sorry," he said, wondering why he felt the need, "about your husband. In spite of my being a skeptic of the worst kind, I do believe you two were the real deal."

She turned and stood against the backdrop of the marble fireplace and an exquisite painting of an Arcadian village over the mantel, her expressive blue-green eyes holding him. "We loved each other. I don't care what the rest of the world thinks."

Or him. She didn't really care what he thought. And Gabriel didn't blame the woman. He'd read up on his subject enough to know the details. American heiress falls for European prince and the whole world goes wild with fascination at this match made in ratings heaven. In spite of the odds, they get married and will supposedly live happily ever after. But five years into their picture-perfect marriage, the prince is killed in a hunting accident. And the beautiful young princess is left grief-stricken and alone, to carry on their good works all over the world.

A widow for over two years now, Her Royal Highness Princess Lara Barrington Kincade had come home to New Orleans to continue her charitable work by holding an art fundraiser to benefit the Kincade Foundation and to continue building Kincade houses for the HRH Theodore Kincade Home Restoration Project in New Orleans.

Gabriel glanced up at the massive painting over the fireplace. He'd seen pictures of it in displays and magazines. A Benoit, painted in the late-nineteenth century by the French artist Jacques Benoit. An authentic representation of the Arcadians who'd been forced out of Nova Scotia in 1755, but depicted in New Orleans in the true Arcadian art theme of a place of contentment and harmony. This, and the title Arcadian Dreams,made the painting bittersweet. A village within a dream—two distinct themes in one painting. And worth a lot of money, if his guess was right.

"The Benoit is stunning," he said to take her mind off the masses pushing at the gate. He noted a blinking light on the wall over the painting. A sensor for protection, no doubt.

"Yes." She turned to glance up at the painting. "It was a wedding gift from my husband."

So this was how her life played out. Priceless artwork and neverending philanthropic events.

Gabriel had been assigned to follow the princess around and produce a photo spread with accompanying content. Right now she was preparing for a big art auction and reception to benefit Kincade House. He was supposed to be grateful that he'd been "given" this opportunity at the national magazine where he'd worked for ten years. "Given" being the loose term for punishment. According to his editor at Real World News, Gabriel had gone rogue one too many times to get the pictures and story he wanted.

Nothing like getting the job done while rubbing a third-world dictator and the Secretary of State the wrong way in order to get the best shots. But that wasn't why he'd been banished to New Orleans to do a fluff piece. He didn't want to think about the real reason he'd agreed to take this easy assignment.

Gabriel searched for the truth and he told it in his award-winning photographs and tell-it-like-it-is text. While the magazine owner and his editor had published his latest expose with unabashed glee, they still had to make him pay to save face with the government.

And this was their way of doing that. This was torture for a true reporter and photojournalist. But what a beautiful torture.

Remembering another woman in another place, he put on a blank expression and tried not to chafe at being in such a straightlaced setting.

"Call me Gabriel," he said, thinking even though this was child's play, at least the subject matter was…lovely to look at. The princess was honey-blonde and photogenic, no doubt about that. But Gabriel wanted to get down to the real woman behind that chignon and those designer pumps.

"Gabriel," she said, coming to sit down on the settee across from the overstuffed chair where he'd landed. "So I understand you have a home here in New Orleans, too."

"Yes." He nodded, stared at the hot tea growing cold in front of him. "I grew up here, and when my mother died, I inherited a town house in the Quarter. So it's not far from your home. One of the many reasons this assignment enticed me."

That much was true at least. He didn't mind some downtime in New Orleans. Good food, good jazz and a mirror of his own conflicted soul. Now he had a beautiful woman to admire, too.

"I'm sorry about your mother. Were you close?"

He wanted to say no, not really. His artistic, temperamental mother had stayed single and had never told him who his father was. Maybe that was why he'd become so nomadic. Seemed he was always searching for the truth. Instead he said, "We grew to be close as we both matured."

She smiled at that. "Sometimes, growing up is hard work."

"Yes." He didn't want to discuss his relationship with his mother. "Anyway, I have the town house here. So I'll have my darkroom and some other equipment stashed away."

"That's convenient," she said, sipping her tea with her pinkie precisely in the right place. "My parents bought this house when I was a toddler. They split their time between New Orleans and several foreign locations since my father was a diplomat—great for them and educational for me. After they retired and moved to Virginia, they left this house to Theo and me. We spent part of our honeymoon here." Her vivid eyes went blank for a second. "I rarely get back here but this fundraiser is important. I want to continue the work Theo and I started in New Orleans."

Gabriel finally lifted the tea and took a swallow. Bitter and tangy, the tepid liquid coated his dry throat. "New Orleans will certainly benefit from your efforts. This city needs all the help it can get after that flurry of hurricanes a few years back."

She inclined her head, her pearl teardrop earrings trembling against her skin. "We started this foundation a year after the last big hurricane."

Gabriel glanced around the big square parlor. "Did your home suffer any damage?"

"A good bit, but we moved most of the artwork before the storm and when we returned we rebuilt the house. I have a friend who rents the carriage house, but she's on her honeymoon right now. Esther married a renowned adventurer and archaeologist—Cullen Murphy. You might have heard of him?"

Gabriel grinned. "Heard of him and had the pleasure of meeting him and the lovely Esther when we did a magazine shoot on the Levi-Lafitte Chocolate Diamond. They mentioned several locations in New Orleans, but obviously left your estate out for the sake of privacy. Amazing find, that."

"Yes, Esther told me all about their big adventure. Lots of danger and intrigue, but they found the diamond and now it's in a museum in Washington, I believe."

"That's right. So you know Esther and Cullen. It's a small world."

"Too small at times," she said.

When a nearby cell phone rang, she excused herself and hurried to pick it up, surprising Gabriel. He figured she had servants in every corner to take care of such tasks. He'd already met one of them, a strange little lady who had introduced herself as Deidre. Deidre had brought him into this room and…disappeared immediately. He'd seen others, bodyguards and drivers and security teams. He'd been fully vetted before he could even take on this assignment and then a nice burly escort had met him, frisked him and brought him here. Gabriel had no doubt he was being watched even now.

"Hello?" Princess Lara turned toward him with an apologetic smile. "Hello?" Frowning, she hung up. "Wrong number."

Gabriel wondered about that and why Deidre wasn't fielding the phone calls. "Could be. Or maybe the photographers lined up outside are taking turns to see if you're still in the house."

"I told Deidre I was expecting some very important calls, but if this keeps up I'll have to let her run interference."

Ah, that explained that, then. A self-sufficient princess. He liked her already. But she could be a bit naive, too. "You know the paparazzi have a way of getting even the most private of numbers."

She came to sit back down, a pretty frown marring her face. "You know all the tricks, I see."

"A few." He finished off the tea, then stared over at her. "But I want you to understand, while I'm trailing around after you, I will respect your privacy and your work. You'll have full approval on any and all photographs that make the cut for RWN magazine as well as the accompanying content, I can assure you."

She did the chin-lifting thing again—her way of nodding, he decided. "And when will we officially begin?"

Gabriel looked at his watch. "I'm on the clock right now."

She stood as if to dismiss him but stopped. "Would you like to stay for dinner? We can go over my schedule. It can be a bit daunting if you're not used to it."

Surprised, Gabriel shrugged. He had to eat. Might as well get to know her over good food. "If it's not too much trouble, I'd appreciate that. I like to be prepared so, yes, a schedule would be great."

"I'll go and tell my assistant to ready our meal, then."

Gabriel wondered if he wanted to eat anything cooked by Deidre. The little woman was so somber and skittish, she gave him the creeps. And it took a lot to scare Gabriel Murdock.

Maybe he should be more wary of the princess he was about to get to know on a personal level. After all, beauty and grace could hide a multitude of sins.

The man was sinfully handsome.

Lara took another bite of the catfish smothered in crawfish etouffee, her stomach almost recoiling at the rich New Orleans food. Her nerves weren't the best these days. Since Theo's death, she'd been an emotional wreck and her doctors had given her more sedatives and antidepressant pills than she cared to remember. But the pills didn't help the neverending ache in her heart. She pretended to take them, but most of the prescribed medication went down the drain. She had to have a clear head for the task ahead.

Tonight, she thought this distress might have more to do with the man sitting beside her at the antique Queen Anne table than the spicy food or a lack of pills. But those annoying hang-up calls hadn't helped her nerves, either.

Gabriel Murdock ate the food with gusto, his manners impeccable even while he enjoyed each bite. He was buff and in shape, so he could afford the spicy sauce and crusty catfish. His hair was dark and curly, with just a hint of gray near the temples. His eyes were an interesting shade of brown—almost golden at times. She'd heard many tales regarding the renowned photojournalist, some of them good and some of them bad. "Infamous" was how Deidre had described him. He traveled light and often, never stayed in one place for long and was rumored to be one of the best at getting a story with just one shot of his camera. But he had also been involved in exposing corruption and righting wrongs by being nosy. Malcolm had thoroughly researched the man, but had given his okay to this assignment.

"He'll be aware and on high alert," Malcolm had told her.

Apparently these were impressive qualities in a good photo-journalist. "He tends to dig deep to get his stories."

Deidre, on the other hand, warned Lara almost immediately.

"You'd best watch out for that one, ma'am," her overpro-tective assistant had cautioned. "Especially since you refused to bring a full detail with us."

"I'll be perfectly fine," Lara had replied. "I don't want guards hovering around me day and night. Our smaller team is sufficient. I need some freedom for a change."

"Yes, ma'am."

But Lara knew that the guards were out there somewhere, watching in spite of her need to break free. She wasn't so complacent as to think they had let her get away with her request so easily. She would always be a member of the royal family, even if her husband was no longer alive. She owned a mansion full of priceless artifacts and antiques, too. And that meant protection, since even now she had death threats and stalkers and all sorts of other worries to consider. Now was not the best time to have a photographer trailing her, but it couldn't be helped. She needed publicity for her cause. She'd have to be very careful about what she revealed to him, however.

But this one—Gabriel—seemed capable of handling anything they might encounter together. The man had been embedded with American troops in the Middle East, had trailed drug lords and terrorists undercover through the jungle to get the real story. He seemed to be content and confident in his own skin, even if his eyes did hold a rim of sadness. Lara felt a strange sense of peace, the first real peace she'd felt since Theo's death.

"This is really good," Gabriel said now. "My compliments to the chef."

"We have a good friend who is an accomplished chef," Lara replied, happy that he approved of the cuisine. "Even though Deidre is an excellent cook, Herbert insists on cooking for me when I'm in town. He so enjoyed teaching Theo all about Creole and Cajun cooking and the difference between the two."

"Spoken like a true Louisiana soul," Gabriel replied. "Did your husband enjoy eating the local dishes?"

"Oh, yes. He was willing to try anything. Even alligator meat and frog legs—I've never managed to acquire a taste for either."

The room went quiet as she remembered the good times she'd had with Theo. Finally, she glanced over at Gabriel and realized he'd put down his fork. "I'm so sorry. It's just… I miss him."

"I understand." He pushed his plate away. "From everything I've seen and heard, he was a good man."

"The best." She blinked away her grief with a quick flutter of her lashes and a flash of regret in her expression. "Now, let's move on, shall we? We have a lot to discuss. I'll show you some of the other art pieces—some I own and others on loan for the reception we'll hold here before the official show in the Quarter. As you know, I intend to be in New Orleans for at least three months. How long do you plan to…shadow me?"

He gave her a direct look. "I have the whole month."

One month, weeks and weeks, with this nice-looking man. Lara had to wonder if they'd get along, or if they'd wind up getting on each other's nerves.

"Don't look so glum," he said, as if reading her mind. "I don't bite. I know my job and I know my place."
Order:
Harlequin.com
Harlequin.com (Large Print)
Harlequin.com (ebook)

Barnes and Noble
Barnes and Noble (Large Print)
Nookbook

Amazon.com
Amazon.com (Large Print)
Kindle

Christianbook.com

Booksamillion.com
Booksamillion.com (Large Print)
Booksamillion.com (ebook)

Kobobooks.com (ebook)

iTunes (ebook)

You can also purchase this book from any of the stores found at CBA Storefinder.

Also, don’t forget that it’s Free Book Friday over at Harlequin.com--if you order two or more books, you’ll get their weekly featured book for free!

This week, the featured book is: The Widow of Conard County by Rachel Lee (Harlequin Special Edition)

Poor doggie

(see full image)
At the vet. Hiding under the exam table bc she's not very happy. :(

The Accidental Thumb

I’ve mentioned before that I have a thumb as black as night, but I’ve decided to alter that and call it my “accidental thumb” because everything that grows is completely by accident, whereas everything I want to grow, er, doesn’t.



I got some stevia plants and used our compost from this past year. I’ve put all our kitchen veggie scraps in the compost, including the squash seeds from when I scrape them out of the squash halves, old tomatoes, etc.

Captain Caffeine got me a soaker hose to water the plants since I’m so awful about watering properly, so I used that with the stevia plants.

Then within a week or so, I noticed some other plants growing up next to the stevia, and I wasn’t entirely sure they were weeds. In fact, they kind of smelled like tomatoes--you know, that green fresh smell from the stem?

I was too lazy too busy to weed, so I just left them and within a few weeks I absolutely knew they weren’t weeds.


Yes, that is a tomato plant, practically overpowering my tiny stevia plant on the far bottom right. It apparently grew from seeds in the compost.

Then next to it, lo and behold, I have even more plants. One is a squash plant, although I’m not entirely sure what kind. The others kind of look like tomatoes too but I don’t know if I know the difference between tomatoes, eggplant, or bell peppers (yes, I put the seeds for all those in my vegetable compost).


The squash is kind of taking over the yard.

So I just kept watering them!

Here’s a picture of my baby squash. It looks like some type of winter squash.


And here’s a close up of my tomatoes. I think it’s a cherry tomato plant.


Any advice from you REAL gardeners for this “accidental” gardener?

Review: Jane Austen in Bath: Walking Tours of the Writer's City

Jane Austen in Bath: Walking Tours of the Writer's City by Katharine Reeve

My rating: 5 of 5 stars



I love this book, not just as a cute book for self-guided walking tours, but also because the history and historical plates have been so useful to me in writing my current novel, a Regency set in Bath.

I visited Bath during my trip to England last year, and fell in love with the town although I didn't have time to explore it as fully as I wanted to. This book brings back my exciting day in the town and adds to it with tidbits about Jane Austen and the history of Bath.

The simply drawn maps are easy to follow as I read each of the chapters for the walking tours. I'm not sure how they'd be if I were following them in Bath, but from what I remember of the streets and the walking tour I took last year, I don't think the maps would be hard to follow.

I did not expect that the authentic historical illustrations of places in Bath in this book would be so useful to me, but they have been invaluable in imagining what the places were like during the time period of my novel. Several of the plates are from private collections so it's a treat to be able to see them here in this book.

The end has a short list of touristy places to go in Bath with information about each.

A wonderful little book. I wish it were in ebook format, though, because I would love to view it on my iPhone or iPad while taking the walking tours in Bath, and I prefer the portability of an ebook. Otherwise, this book really is well worth the price.



View all my reviews

Guest post and giveaway - DANGEROUS PASSAGE by Lisa Harris

Today I have romantic suspense author Lisa Harris guest blogging!

About Lisa:

Lisa Harris is an award-winning author with more than 400,000 copies of her works in print. She was a 2011 Christy Award finalist for Blood Ransom and lives in Mozambique together with her husband, Scott, and their three children. Visit her website at www.lisaharriswrites.com.

Photo Credit: © Mariah Harris

And now, here’s Lisa!

A couple of years ago, I wrote a book set in Africa (Blood Ransom) and the background of the story surrounded the issue of human trafficking and the slave trade. At the time, I didn’t realize that human trafficking was an issue in the US, but the more I read, the more I realized that this doesn’t just effect people living halfway around the world. It’s a problem facing people right where we live and work.

But for an issue that seems to far from our day-to-day life, what can we really do about it?

First of all pray. Pray for the men, women, and children involved in this horrific crime.

Second, inform yourself about what is happening. Churches are getting involved, and there are groups like Free the Captives (www.freethecaptiveshouston.com) who are making a difference.

Thirdly, go where you hear God sending you and reach out to those around you. It might mean getting involved with a group who is specifically fighting human trafficking. Or it might be a hurting neighbor down the street, a lonely teen in your church’s youth group, or a forgotten elderly person in your apartment building. Through His strength, we can make a difference--wherever we are--one person at a time.

Here’s the blurb from my latest romantic suspense, Dangerous Passage, that deals with the issue of domestic slave trade.

“When two Jane Does are killed on the outskirts of Atlanta, Georgia, detective and behavioral specialist Avery North discovers they share something in common--a tattoo of a magnolia on their shoulders. Suspecting a serial killer, Avery joins forces with medical examiner Jackson Bryant to solve the crimes and prevent another murder. But it doesn't take long for them to realize that there is much more to the case than meets the eye. As they venture deep into a sinister world of human trafficking, Avery and Jackson are taken to the very edge of their abilities--and their hearts.

Dangerous Passage exposes a fully-realized and frightening world where every layer peeled back reveals more challenges ahead. Romantic suspense fans will be hooked from the start by Lisa Harris's first installment of the new Southern Crimes series.”

Dangerous Passage is now available as a paperback and ebook!

Thanks for letting me stop by Camy!

Happy reading!

Lisa Harris

Camy: Thanks for being here, Lisa!

I’m also giving away a copy of Lisa’s book!

Dangerous Passage
By
Lisa Harris

She's dedicated her life to ending violence. But has she moved too deep into a treacherous world?

When two Jane Does are killed on the outskirts of Atlanta, Georgia, detective and behavioral specialist Avery North discovers they share something in common--a magnolia tattoo on their shoulders. Suspecting a serial killer, Avery joins forces with medical examiner Jackson Bryant to solve the crimes and prevent another murder. As they venture deep into a sinister criminal world, Avery and Jackson are taken to the very edge of their abilities--and their hearts.

Dangerous Passage exposes a fully realized and frightening world where every layer peeled back reveals more challenges ahead. You'll be hooked from the start.

Order:

Barnes and Noble
Nookbook

Amazon.com
Kindle

Christianbook.com
Christianbook.com (ebook)

Booksamillion.com
Booksamillion.com (ebook)

Kobobooks.com (ebook)

iTunes (ebook)

You can also purchase this book from any of the stores found at CBA Storefinder.

To enter:

You must join my email newsletter to be eligible for this contest. Fill out the form below. Be sure to read the rules.

Extra Twitter entries: Get one extra entry per day if you tweet about this giveaway:
Christian Romantic Suspense giveaway Lisa Harris DANGEROUS PASSAGE! http://is.gd/LArZOh @camytang
(Be sure to include @camytang so I can see your tweet and give you your extra entry.)

Extra Facebook entries: Get one extra entry per day if you share this Facebook post on your own Facebook profile and/or page: https://www.facebook.com/CamyTangAuthor/posts/10151672198422620
(Be sure you share the post at the link above--go to the link and then click "share". Make sure you set the privacy of your share to “public” so I can see that you shared it and give you your extra entry even if I’m not on your friends list.)

Loading...