Camy Tang's Blog, page 113

A word for the New Year

I got this idea from an author friend of mind--every year, she prays and asks God for a word or a short phrase that is her “theme” for the year. It’s something she works on for the year.



One year, my word was “fear.” It sounds weird, but I wanted to understand what it meant to fear and revere the Lord. During my Bible reading that year, I started highlighting every passage that mentioned the word “fear” in relation to God, and it was really eye-opening to understand what it really means to “fear” the Lord.



This year, my word is “prayer.” I want to work on my prayer life and learn how to pray more often and with more intensity. The first thing I did was get an app. :) I got the “Let’s Pray” app on my iPhone because you set up an account and then it’ll sync your prayer requests across all your devices.



I usually pray with my iPad since I use an iPad Bible app for my Bible reading (Olive Tree, because it lets me write notes as long as I want!), but if I happen to ever not have my iPad with me, I can write the prayer request on my iPhone and it’ll sync across both my phone and tablet.



So, techno-goodies aside, I’m hoping to work on my prayer this year.



How about you? Is there a word or short phrase God has impressed upon your heart to work on this year?

Book giveaway - NARROW ESCAPE, True Large Print version

This week I'm giving away two copies of the TRUE LARGE PRINT version of my Love Inspired Suspense novel, Narrow Escape :



KIDNAPPED IN BROAD DAYLIGHT



Arissa Tiong and her three-year-old niece are snatched off the street by members of a notorious drug gang. Having lost her police officer brother to a drug bust gone bad, Arissa knows the danger she's in. But she has no idea why they want her. Desperate to protect the little girl, Arissa escapes and runs straight to Nathan Fischer. She knows the handsome, weary former narcotics cop hasn't told her everything about the night that ended her brother's life and Nathan's career. But he's all that stands between her and dangerous thugs who are after something she doesn't even know she has.



Excerpt of chapter one:



Arissa Tiong awoke to darkness and the stench of fear. Pain throbbed from a sharp point at the back of her head and radiated forward to pound against the backs of her eyeballs. She drew in a ragged breath and swallowed dust. She stifled a cough against the scratchy nubs of the frilly carpet she lay on.



Where was she? She tried to move and realized her stiff arms were fastened behind her back, and her ankles were tied together. She attempted to straighten her legs and found her feet were tethered to something. She was bound like an animal.



And Charity. Where was Charity? Her heart began to speed up, and each beat felt like a hammer blow to her breastbone. Her entire body ached.



The dim room narrowed into focus before her swimming vision. Slivers of light came from a boarded-up window. Daylight, it was still daytime. They'd taken her sometime in the morning, and she didn't feel she'd been out for that long, so it must have only been a few hours. The rays spilled onto a rusty metal bed frame that held a thin, sagging mattress with no sheets and several dark stains. Her mind shied away from what made those stains.



The smell of mold was almost overpowering, and dust had settled on the thin carpet, pooling in holes and rips across the surface. The walls had dark water stains painted over older water stains.



She didn't realize there was a ringing in her ears until it started to fade and she could hear noises from outside the room. The sharp hard cries of street kids playing a pickup game in the middle of a road. She made out a word or two here or there. The kids spoke in Tagalog. She was still in Los Angeles, maybe still in the Filipino community where she lived. She hadn't seen the faces of the men who had nabbed her off the street, but if she remained in her neighborhood, they hadn't taken her far.



What had they done with Charity? Her last memory had been seeing the three-year-old's huge dark eyes, her mouth wide open, screaming and reaching for her as Arissa was hauled backward into a van. Had the men left Charity on the street? A three-year-old girl alone on the streets of L.A.? A cold knife blade slid under her rib cage and pricked her heart.



And why had they taken Arissa? She was only an international flight attendant. Her parents owned a tiny grocery store in a low-income Filipino community that barely earned enough to feed and house the four of them in the minuscule apartment above the store. They had nothing anyone would want.



The men must have taken her by mistake, and when they realized it, they'd kill her.



She closed her eyes. No, she had to see if she could get out of here. She would get out of here.



Arissa tugged at her hands behind her back. It felt like tape wrapped around her wrists. She twisted her arms, arched her back. Agony jabbed from her right shoulder—she must have injured it or fallen on it at some point. She gritted her teeth against the pain and pulled down her arms, getting them under her rear end.



She folded her body in half as she scooted her bound hands along the back of her legs toward her feet. Rope secured her crossed ankles, and a line ran into a tiny closet and fastened to the head of a large nail sticking out of the closet wall.



She reached down to see if she could untie her ankles even though her wrists were bound, but the line gave her a better idea. She sat up and drew her legs closer, pulling the rope taut. She set the edge of the duct tape around her wrists against the rope and started sawing back and forth.



It took forever, but soon the rope cut through and created a tear in the layers of duct tape. Then it was easier to saw through the rest and free her hands, ignoring the blood that trickled down the creases in her wrists from the tape and the friction from the rope.



She was about to untie her ankles when boot steps sounded outside the closed door, coming closer. A child's sobbing approached with the steps.



Charity. They had her niece. Arissa wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or terrified.



She dropped back down to the carpet, tucking her hands behind her back again. Hopefully the men wouldn't realize the tape was gone. She settled into the same position she'd been in when she awoke, and shut her eyes.



The metal doorknob rattled as someone unlocked it, then two different footfalls sounded against the carpet—one lighter than the other, but neither were the steps of a child. One of them must have been carrying Charity, whose soft crying erupted into a wail as she saw Arissa on the floor.



"Let her go," growled a man's voice in Tagalog.



Now she could hear Charity's footsteps, followed by tiny hands that wrapped around Arissa's head and neck. "Aunty Rissa," Charity sobbed. "Wake up, wake up. Why won't you wake up?"



It took every ounce of willpower not to throw her arms around the small trembling body. Arissa kept her eyes shut. Thankfully, Charity's body shielded her face from the two kidnappers.



"Now be quiet," said a second voice in Tagalog, sharper than the other and slightly higher pitched. They were both men, both Filipino.



Charity gave a startled cry of fear, but then her sobs softened and she buried her face in Arissa's hair.



"See, I told you it would make her be quiet," said the sharp voice. The men walked out of the room. "Why'd you bring her, anyway?"



"It would have been better to leave her crying and screaming in the middle of the street?"



He was one of the men who'd grabbed them, then.



"All this trouble," the deeper voice groused. "If Mark hadn't gotten shot.." The door closed behind him and metal scraped as they locked it again.



Mark? Arissa's brother, Mark? But he'd been killed in the line of duty over three years ago. Why would these men care about his death and kidnap Arissa now?



And would they go after her parents, too, now that they had Arissa and Charity?



She reached out to gather Charity close to her, and the little girl gave a surprised noise. "Shh, shh. We have to be quiet or they'll come back."



"Why did they take us, Aunty Rissa?" Fresh tears trickled down Arissa's neck.



"I don't know. But we have to get out of here, okay?"



The little head nodded against her ear.



Arissa sat up and worked on the rope tying her legs together. It had been knotted tightly but inexpertly. She tore a fingernail trying to loosen the first knot, but after that she was able to undo the other knots quickly.



The window had been boarded up with plywood so that only slits of light shone through, but as she leaned closer, Arissa could see that the drywall securing the boards was brittle and crumbling. She yanked at a plywood board that she was fairly certain hadn't been nailed into a wall stud, and the bottom edge pulled away easily, with white dry-wall flakes drifting into the dingy carpet. She tried the top of the board, and it drew free.



So that's why the window had been boarded up—cracks splintered out from the glass, radiating from a small hole. A bullet hole. She glanced behind her into the room, and saw a corresponding hole high in the wall next to the closet door.



She shuddered. Growing up in her area of L.A., she'd gotten used to hearing gunshots every night, but she never got used to seeing the damage to buildings, to people.



She tore away as many of the boards from the window as she could and set them quietly on the floor. Outside, the kids playing in the street had moved on, and the empty road echoed with the whisper of cars driving elsewhere nearby. It seemed to drowse in the bright sunlight as drug dealers slept off a busy night and nosy neighbors watched reality TV shows.



There was also nowhere to hide. The street ran in a straight shot in either direction. These small, old houses had postage-stamp front lawns and broken metal fences around the better ones. Only an occasional scraggly tree or decrepit bush. If she ran with Charity, they'd be spotted down the street in an instant. How long could she run with a three-year-old girl in her arms?



What had Mark always said to her? "Distraction evens the odds."



She scanned the room, easier now that it was brighter, and stepped into the empty closet to look up. A square in the gray asbestos-snowlike ceiling pointed to an entry to the attic crawl space.



She used a board to nudge up the panel and slowly, quietly shift it aside to clear the opening. She wasn't tall enough to get to it easily, or to check that it was safe. She'd have to trust there wasn't anything dangerous in there.



Arissa picked up Charity and whispered in her ear, "You have to be brave for me, nene. Can you do that?"



The girl hesitated before nodding slowly. She wasn't her father's daughter for nothing.



"I need you to climb up there and be very, very quiet," Arissa said.



"In the dark?" she whispered, her breath coming faster.



"It's not so dark, see?" Arissa stood under the hole and could see faint rays of sunlight coming through a crack in the roof, illuminating the crawl space. "If you stay very quiet, we can get away from the bad men. Okay?"



Charity took a quick breath. "Okay."



Arissa lifted up the girl and she scrambled into the hole. She pushed at her niece's round bottom, covered in her favorite pink stretch pants, to get her over the edge into the attic. There was a soft shuffling, then Charity's large dark eyes stared down at her from the edge of the hole.



"Stand back," Arissa whispered, "and don't make a sound."



Arissa took the longest of the plywood boards and slid it under the flimsy doorknob, propping the other end of the board against the floor. It wouldn't hold them long, but she only needed a few extra seconds.



She grabbed the heaviest of the other boards and took a deep breath, then swung it against the window glass with all her might.



The impact jarred her arms and shoulders and the sound of shattering glass rang in her ears, making them ache. She hit at the shards of glass left in the window, knocking them loose and shoving them outside. She glanced down and around the outside of the house, spying some dented metal trash cans a few feet to the side of the window. In order to make even more noise, she threw the board at them, knocking one down and making the other rattle ominously against the peeling paint of the house.



Men's voices sounded outside the bedroom door, and the knob rattled. The door stuck against the board wedged there.



She ran toward the closet and took a flying leap at the hole in the ceiling just as the men began shouldering at the barricaded door with thundering blows. She grabbed at the edge and swung an elbow over with her momentum, then hauled herself up as quickly and quietly as she could. Thank goodness for the hours she spent at the gym in between her flight assignments. She drew in her legs and laid the panel back over the hole just as the men crashed through the door to the bedroom.



"They're gone!" The voice came from the direction of the window.



"Don't just stand there, we have to get them back."



Footsteps raced out of the bedroom, leaving the house. There was a sound of a slamming door, then all was silent.



She waited a few seconds, straining to hear if there was a third man left in the house, but she didn't hear anything, not even the sound of a television or radio. She pushed aside the panel and dropped down. Reaching up her arms for Charity, the girl obediently dangled her legs over the edge, then slid into her aunt's arms.



She stepped through the splintered bedroom door, walking noiselessly into a small hallway. It opened into a dusty living room, with the open front door at one side and a kitchen door at the other. Arissa headed toward the back of the house.



There was a narrow kitchen door with a cobwebby glass panel. Thankfully it wasn't locked. She opened it and let them into an overgrown backyard, strewn with rusting car parts and various pieces of trash. She carefully closed the door behind her, then made for the sagging back fence, which had several loose slats of wood. She wriggled through one of them, followed by Charity.



Then she picked up her niece and ran.



Nathan Fischer opened the front door and saw his dead partner's eyes staring solemnly up at him.



It took him a moment to realize Mark's eyes were in the face of a three-year-old girl, her dark brown curls blowing about her round cheeks in the crisp Sonoma breeze. Then Nathan's gaze shifted to the young woman standing behind the little girl. The foyer tiles under his feet tilted sideways before righting themselves.



Arissa.



She had lost weight. Her high cheekbones stood out more, and her collarbone peeked from the wide-necked blouse she wore. It was her favorite color, a dusky rose that matched her lips. Her eyes bore into his, wide and intent.



"I'm sorry to drop in on you like this, Nathan, but I need your help." Her voice was the same as he remembered it—low, musical, her words carefully enunciated in a way that hinted at a Filipino accent, although she'd been born in the U.S.



"My help?" he heard himself repeat idiotically. Maybe because he was exhausted—he'd pulled a double shift, taking over for one of the other security officers at Glencove Towers whose wife had gone into labor.



Arissa cast a nervous glance around the neighborhood. The gathering darkness had cast the other bungalow-style homes into shadows, but this was a safe, quiet street in downtown Sonoma—there were no monsters here. Something had spooked her badly.



Especially if she'd come to him, after the last words he'd spoken to her three years ago.



"Come in." Nathan stood aside and opened the door wider. The little girl caught his attention again. So Arissa had had a child? The girl seemed tall for her age. So much had happened since he'd last seen Arissa.



She stepped into the foyer of Nathan's parents' home and he closed the door behind her, the light from the hallway lamp casting a glow across her almond-milk-colored skin. He caught a thread of rain and roses, and her familiar scent made him have a flashing urge to give her a peck on the cheek, to say, "Hi, honey, how was work?"



He exhaled a sharp breath to dispel the vision. It was the little girl causing this in him, the reminder that he had once had deeper feelings for this woman, had once wanted to have a family with her. The little girl had fooled him into thinking his dream had come true.



His dream would never come true. Certainly not with this woman, and now, not with any woman.





Here’s how you enter:



1) You get one entry into the contest when you sign up for my email newsletter at http://www.camytang.com/. Please know that when you sign up, you will get an email asking you to click a link to confirm your subscription. If you don’t get that email or if you don’t click the link, you won’t be subscribed to my newsletter and you won't get this extra entry. If you already belong to my email newsletter, let me know!



2) You get a second entry into the contest if you Like my Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/CamyTangAuthor. If you already Like my Facebook page, let me know!



3) You get a third entry into the contest if you join my Goodreads group: http://www.goodreads.com/group/show/49078. If you already belong to my Goodreads group, let me know!



4) You get extra entries into the contest if you get someone else to join my email newsletter. Just email camy {at] camytang dot com with the person’s email address (new newsletter sign-ups only).



5) In the comments section of this blog post, let me know if you joined/already belong to my email newsletter, Facebook page and Goodreads group. Also please list the email address you used to sign up for my newsletter (please use this format--you [at] yourmail.com--or something like that to prevent spammers from trolling for your email address) OR if you're not comfortable posting your email, just email me at camy {at] camytang dot com with your entry.



I always email the winner and give him/her a week to reply, but if I don’t receive an answer, I will pull another person to win the book. It is the winner’s responsibility to check to see if you won and to email me if you haven’t yet heard from me. I am not responsible for a lost opportunity if you misspelled your email address, are on vacation, or leave an email address you don’t check frequently.



I’ll pick a winner on January 28th, 2013. The winner can expect his/her free book in 4-6 weeks.



Sorry, I’m limiting this to the US and Canada only because it’s too expensive for me to ship books internationally. Sorry, no ebook copy winners for this one because I'm giving away specific physical books.

Filipino names and phrases in NARROW ESCAPE

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Source: tvrage.com via Camy on Pinterest

I’m Japanese and my husband is Chinese, but I have several friends who are Filipino, which is why I decided to write a Filipino heroine for Narrow Escape . However, I had to do lots of research, especially for the character names.



I had a hard time coming up with the name of the Filipino drug gang in the book, but there are several real-life Filipino gangs who just use initials for their names. So I picked the phrase, laki sa layaw, which means “pampered while still young” in Tagalog (a Filipino dialect), and shortened it to the gang name, LSL. The phrase seemed appropriate for a young, tough, attitude-saturated gang of drug dealers.



I don’t actually know the meaning of Arissa’s last name, Tiong, but I liked it because it was easy to read and pronounce (sort of) for non-Filipino readers. :) Some of the Filipino surnames are really long and complicated to pronounce for an American like me!



Charity’s uncle is Johnny Capuno, is a captain in the LSL gang. I chose Johnny’s last name, Capuno, because it means “fellow leader” in Tagalog.



The Tiongs’ neighbor is Mrs. Tabil, and if you read the scene, you’ll find that the meaning of her last name is very appropriate. Tabil means “talkative” in Tagalog. :)



Nene, which Arissa uses often when speaking to her niece, Charity, is a term of endearment for young girls.



Now, aren’t you glad I didn’t pick something like Tukodlangit for Arissa’s last name? LOLOL



Do any of you come from a family with a neat ethnic name?



Don't forget to enter my Narrow Escape contest for January! Click here to enter!

Winners of my NARROW ESCAPE contest

Congratulations to the winners of my January contest! Each winner gets a free copy of my Love Inspired Suspense, Narrow Escape:

Carolyn B.

Lourdes M.

Judy S.B.

Joyce A.

Elaine W.

Maxie A.

Sherry D.

Harry W.

Sharee S.

Valerie/Lora



(I've emailed each of you. Please email me at camy {at] camytang[dot}com if you didn’t get the email message.)



I know that all of you who didn’t win are now crying in your BBQ flavored potato chips. Cheer up and order the book!



About Narrow Escape:



KIDNAPPED IN BROAD DAYLIGHT



Arissa Tiong and her three-year-old niece are snatched off the street by members of a notorious drug gang. Having lost her police officer brother to a drug bust gone bad, Arissa knows the danger she's in. But she has no idea why they want her. Desperate to protect the little girl, Arissa escapes and runs straight to Nathan Fischer. She knows the handsome, weary former narcotics cop hasn't told her everything about the night that ended her brother's life and Nathan's career. But he's all that stands between her and dangerous thugs who are after something she doesn't even know she has.



Excerpt of chapter one:



Arissa Tiong awoke to darkness and the stench of fear. Pain throbbed from a sharp point at the back of her head and radiated forward to pound against the backs of her eyeballs. She drew in a ragged breath and swallowed dust. She stifled a cough against the scratchy nubs of the frilly carpet she lay on.



Where was she? She tried to move and realized her stiff arms were fastened behind her back, and her ankles were tied together. She attempted to straighten her legs and found her feet were tethered to something. She was bound like an animal.



And Charity. Where was Charity? Her heart began to speed up, and each beat felt like a hammer blow to her breastbone. Her entire body ached.



The dim room narrowed into focus before her swimming vision. Slivers of light came from a boarded-up window. Daylight, it was still daytime. They'd taken her sometime in the morning, and she didn't feel she'd been out for that long, so it must have only been a few hours. The rays spilled onto a rusty metal bed frame that held a thin, sagging mattress with no sheets and several dark stains. Her mind shied away from what made those stains.



The smell of mold was almost overpowering, and dust had settled on the thin carpet, pooling in holes and rips across the surface. The walls had dark water stains painted over older water stains.



She didn't realize there was a ringing in her ears until it started to fade and she could hear noises from outside the room. The sharp hard cries of street kids playing a pickup game in the middle of a road. She made out a word or two here or there. The kids spoke in Tagalog. She was still in Los Angeles, maybe still in the Filipino community where she lived. She hadn't seen the faces of the men who had nabbed her off the street, but if she remained in her neighborhood, they hadn't taken her far.



What had they done with Charity? Her last memory had been seeing the three-year-old's huge dark eyes, her mouth wide open, screaming and reaching for her as Arissa was hauled backward into a van. Had the men left Charity on the street? A three-year-old girl alone on the streets of L.A.? A cold knife blade slid under her rib cage and pricked her heart.



And why had they taken Arissa? She was only an international flight attendant. Her parents owned a tiny grocery store in a low-income Filipino community that barely earned enough to feed and house the four of them in the minuscule apartment above the store. They had nothing anyone would want.



The men must have taken her by mistake, and when they realized it, they'd kill her.



She closed her eyes. No, she had to see if she could get out of here. She would get out of here.



Arissa tugged at her hands behind her back. It felt like tape wrapped around her wrists. She twisted her arms, arched her back. Agony jabbed from her right shoulder—she must have injured it or fallen on it at some point. She gritted her teeth against the pain and pulled down her arms, getting them under her rear end.



She folded her body in half as she scooted her bound hands along the back of her legs toward her feet. Rope secured her crossed ankles, and a line ran into a tiny closet and fastened to the head of a large nail sticking out of the closet wall.



She reached down to see if she could untie her ankles even though her wrists were bound, but the line gave her a better idea. She sat up and drew her legs closer, pulling the rope taut. She set the edge of the duct tape around her wrists against the rope and started sawing back and forth.



It took forever, but soon the rope cut through and created a tear in the layers of duct tape. Then it was easier to saw through the rest and free her hands, ignoring the blood that trickled down the creases in her wrists from the tape and the friction from the rope.



She was about to untie her ankles when boot steps sounded outside the closed door, coming closer. A child's sobbing approached with the steps.



Charity. They had her niece. Arissa wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or terrified.



She dropped back down to the carpet, tucking her hands behind her back again. Hopefully the men wouldn't realize the tape was gone. She settled into the same position she'd been in when she awoke, and shut her eyes.



The metal doorknob rattled as someone unlocked it, then two different footfalls sounded against the carpet—one lighter than the other, but neither were the steps of a child. One of them must have been carrying Charity, whose soft crying erupted into a wail as she saw Arissa on the floor.



"Let her go," growled a man's voice in Tagalog.



Now she could hear Charity's footsteps, followed by tiny hands that wrapped around Arissa's head and neck. "Aunty Rissa," Charity sobbed. "Wake up, wake up. Why won't you wake up?"



It took every ounce of willpower not to throw her arms around the small trembling body. Arissa kept her eyes shut. Thankfully, Charity's body shielded her face from the two kidnappers.



"Now be quiet," said a second voice in Tagalog, sharper than the other and slightly higher pitched. They were both men, both Filipino.



Charity gave a startled cry of fear, but then her sobs softened and she buried her face in Arissa's hair.



"See, I told you it would make her be quiet," said the sharp voice. The men walked out of the room. "Why'd you bring her, anyway?"



"It would have been better to leave her crying and screaming in the middle of the street?"



He was one of the men who'd grabbed them, then.



"All this trouble," the deeper voice groused. "If Mark hadn't gotten shot.." The door closed behind him and metal scraped as they locked it again.



Mark? Arissa's brother, Mark? But he'd been killed in the line of duty over three years ago. Why would these men care about his death and kidnap Arissa now?



And would they go after her parents, too, now that they had Arissa and Charity?



She reached out to gather Charity close to her, and the little girl gave a surprised noise. "Shh, shh. We have to be quiet or they'll come back."



"Why did they take us, Aunty Rissa?" Fresh tears trickled down Arissa's neck.



"I don't know. But we have to get out of here, okay?"



The little head nodded against her ear.



Arissa sat up and worked on the rope tying her legs together. It had been knotted tightly but inexpertly. She tore a fingernail trying to loosen the first knot, but after that she was able to undo the other knots quickly.



The window had been boarded up with plywood so that only slits of light shone through, but as she leaned closer, Arissa could see that the drywall securing the boards was brittle and crumbling. She yanked at a plywood board that she was fairly certain hadn't been nailed into a wall stud, and the bottom edge pulled away easily, with white dry-wall flakes drifting into the dingy carpet. She tried the top of the board, and it drew free.



So that's why the window had been boarded up—cracks splintered out from the glass, radiating from a small hole. A bullet hole. She glanced behind her into the room, and saw a corresponding hole high in the wall next to the closet door.



She shuddered. Growing up in her area of L.A., she'd gotten used to hearing gunshots every night, but she never got used to seeing the damage to buildings, to people.



She tore away as many of the boards from the window as she could and set them quietly on the floor. Outside, the kids playing in the street had moved on, and the empty road echoed with the whisper of cars driving elsewhere nearby. It seemed to drowse in the bright sunlight as drug dealers slept off a busy night and nosy neighbors watched reality TV shows.



There was also nowhere to hide. The street ran in a straight shot in either direction. These small, old houses had postage-stamp front lawns and broken metal fences around the better ones. Only an occasional scraggly tree or decrepit bush. If she ran with Charity, they'd be spotted down the street in an instant. How long could she run with a three-year-old girl in her arms?



What had Mark always said to her? "Distraction evens the odds."



She scanned the room, easier now that it was brighter, and stepped into the empty closet to look up. A square in the gray asbestos-snowlike ceiling pointed to an entry to the attic crawl space.



She used a board to nudge up the panel and slowly, quietly shift it aside to clear the opening. She wasn't tall enough to get to it easily, or to check that it was safe. She'd have to trust there wasn't anything dangerous in there.



Arissa picked up Charity and whispered in her ear, "You have to be brave for me, nene. Can you do that?"



The girl hesitated before nodding slowly. She wasn't her father's daughter for nothing.



"I need you to climb up there and be very, very quiet," Arissa said.



"In the dark?" she whispered, her breath coming faster.



"It's not so dark, see?" Arissa stood under the hole and could see faint rays of sunlight coming through a crack in the roof, illuminating the crawl space. "If you stay very quiet, we can get away from the bad men. Okay?"



Charity took a quick breath. "Okay."



Arissa lifted up the girl and she scrambled into the hole. She pushed at her niece's round bottom, covered in her favorite pink stretch pants, to get her over the edge into the attic. There was a soft shuffling, then Charity's large dark eyes stared down at her from the edge of the hole.



"Stand back," Arissa whispered, "and don't make a sound."



Arissa took the longest of the plywood boards and slid it under the flimsy doorknob, propping the other end of the board against the floor. It wouldn't hold them long, but she only needed a few extra seconds.



She grabbed the heaviest of the other boards and took a deep breath, then swung it against the window glass with all her might.



The impact jarred her arms and shoulders and the sound of shattering glass rang in her ears, making them ache. She hit at the shards of glass left in the window, knocking them loose and shoving them outside. She glanced down and around the outside of the house, spying some dented metal trash cans a few feet to the side of the window. In order to make even more noise, she threw the board at them, knocking one down and making the other rattle ominously against the peeling paint of the house.



Men's voices sounded outside the bedroom door, and the knob rattled. The door stuck against the board wedged there.



She ran toward the closet and took a flying leap at the hole in the ceiling just as the men began shouldering at the barricaded door with thundering blows. She grabbed at the edge and swung an elbow over with her momentum, then hauled herself up as quickly and quietly as she could. Thank goodness for the hours she spent at the gym in between her flight assignments. She drew in her legs and laid the panel back over the hole just as the men crashed through the door to the bedroom.



"They're gone!" The voice came from the direction of the window.



"Don't just stand there, we have to get them back."



Footsteps raced out of the bedroom, leaving the house. There was a sound of a slamming door, then all was silent.



She waited a few seconds, straining to hear if there was a third man left in the house, but she didn't hear anything, not even the sound of a television or radio. She pushed aside the panel and dropped down. Reaching up her arms for Charity, the girl obediently dangled her legs over the edge, then slid into her aunt's arms.



She stepped through the splintered bedroom door, walking noiselessly into a small hallway. It opened into a dusty living room, with the open front door at one side and a kitchen door at the other. Arissa headed toward the back of the house.



There was a narrow kitchen door with a cobwebby glass panel. Thankfully it wasn't locked. She opened it and let them into an overgrown backyard, strewn with rusting car parts and various pieces of trash. She carefully closed the door behind her, then made for the sagging back fence, which had several loose slats of wood. She wriggled through one of them, followed by Charity.



Then she picked up her niece and ran.



Nathan Fischer opened the front door and saw his dead partner's eyes staring solemnly up at him.



It took him a moment to realize Mark's eyes were in the face of a three-year-old girl, her dark brown curls blowing about her round cheeks in the crisp Sonoma breeze. Then Nathan's gaze shifted to the young woman standing behind the little girl. The foyer tiles under his feet tilted sideways before righting themselves.



Arissa.



She had lost weight. Her high cheekbones stood out more, and her collarbone peeked from the wide-necked blouse she wore. It was her favorite color, a dusky rose that matched her lips. Her eyes bore into his, wide and intent.



"I'm sorry to drop in on you like this, Nathan, but I need your help." Her voice was the same as he remembered it—low, musical, her words carefully enunciated in a way that hinted at a Filipino accent, although she'd been born in the U.S.



"My help?" he heard himself repeat idiotically. Maybe because he was exhausted—he'd pulled a double shift, taking over for one of the other security officers at Glencove Towers whose wife had gone into labor.



Arissa cast a nervous glance around the neighborhood. The gathering darkness had cast the other bungalow-style homes into shadows, but this was a safe, quiet street in downtown Sonoma—there were no monsters here. Something had spooked her badly.



Especially if she'd come to him, after the last words he'd spoken to her three years ago.



"Come in." Nathan stood aside and opened the door wider. The little girl caught his attention again. So Arissa had had a child? The girl seemed tall for her age. So much had happened since he'd last seen Arissa.



She stepped into the foyer of Nathan's parents' home and he closed the door behind her, the light from the hallway lamp casting a glow across her almond-milk-colored skin. He caught a thread of rain and roses, and her familiar scent made him have a flashing urge to give her a peck on the cheek, to say, "Hi, honey, how was work?"



He exhaled a sharp breath to dispel the vision. It was the little girl causing this in him, the reminder that he had once had deeper feelings for this woman, had once wanted to have a family with her. The little girl had fooled him into thinking his dream had come true.



His dream would never come true. Certainly not with this woman, and now, not with any woman.





Print books:

Harlequin.com

Harlequin.com (Large Print)

Barnes and Noble

Barnes and Noble (Large Print)

Amazon.com

Amazon.com (Large Print)

Christianbook.com

Booksamillion.com

Booksamillion.com (Large Print)



Ebooks:

Harlequin.com

Nookbook

Kindle

Kobobooks.com

iTunes

Naming characters in NARROW ESCAPE

Most of you guys already know how much I suck at coming up with names, right? So when I needed to come up with names for Narrow Escape, I ran a contest with the prize of naming my characters in my then-untitled Love Inspired Suspense manuscript.



Huge thanks to my winners who named my characters:



Jennifer F. was the grand prize winner, and she named Arissa and various characters, including Arissa’s discipler at church! I didn’t need a true Filipino name for her first name, but Jennifer actually did some internet research and came up with some Filipino names!



Charity L. named Arissa’s niece, Charity!



Holly M. named Arissa’s brother, Mark!



I would have allowed one of my winners to pick the hero’s name, but he had already been mentioned in Stalker in the Shadows. :)



Are you good at naming characters? I’m always working on a new manuscript, so keep your eyes on my blog and Facebook for when I post for help!



Don't forget to enter my Narrow Escape contest for January! Click here to enter!

Winner - A DAUGHTER’S REDEMPTION by Georgiana Daniels

The winner of A DAUGHTER’S REDEMPTION by Georgiana Daniels is:

redheavenbound

Congratulations! (I've emailed you. Please email me at camy {at] camytang[dot}com if you didn’t get the email message.)



I know that all of you who didn’t win are now crying in your Cheerios. Cheer up and order the book!



Back cover blurb:



Inheriting her estranged father's property isn't the reason Robyn Warner wanted to come back to Pine Hollow. She thought she'd make amends with her father—but his sudden death made that impossible. And when she learns the identity of the handyman fixing the run-down cabins, Robyn is ready to flee Pine Hollow again. Caleb Sloane, the cop responsible for her father's accident, just wants to uphold his promise and then return to the force. But he can't seem to walk away. After all, he understands about guilt and regret. And he'll do everything he can to help Robyn find healing, happiness and—just maybe—a lifetime of love.



Excerpt of chapter one:



If the rest of the property was in the same sad condition as the front porch with its missing rails and bowed floorboards, Robyn Warner would be in Pine Hollow, Arizona, far longer than she'd anticipated. She wheeled her suitcase over the flagstone walkway and paused at the foot of her father's home to absorb the onslaught of memories.

It wasn't too late to turn around and hand the keys back to the lawyer managing her father's estate, though the sad huddle of cabins hardly qualified as such. What had once been a cozy mountain resort now looked pitiable and highly susceptible to a stiff wind. Her father certainly hadn't done her any favors by willing the property to her, but after more than a dozen years of silence, she was glad to be remembered at all.

Gravel crunched near cabin two—Robyn's favorite during her summer vacation stays as a child. A man in work pants and a paint-splattered T-shirt meandered out from between the ramshackle buildings. "Can I help you? It's easy to get lost out here."

"It certainly looks different than I remember, but this is the right place." She shaded her eyes to get a better look at the man who was tall and muscular without being imposing. He was the most clean-cut maintenance man she'd ever seen—and a nice contrast to the surfers with sand in their hair she was used to back at the surf shop she managed in California. She propped up the suitcase. "I'm Robyn Warner. And you are?"

"Caleb." He gestured toward the road. "Pine Hollow Resort is on the other side of the wash, about five miles down. Are you sure that's not where you were headed?"

"I'm here to check out.. " She caught herself before referring to Lakeside Cabins as hers. "I'm staying here. Dan Dawson was my dad." She fished the keys from her pocket and held them up. "I'll just let myself in."

The handyman scrutinized her as though assessing her legitimacy, much the same way her half siblings, Brad and Abby, had during the funeral last week. Gauging her motives and questioning her right to be there. Her right to grieve.

He swiped his brow with his arm and slid on a pair of sunglasses. "No one told me you were coming or I'd have cleared out."

"If it makes you feel better, the lawyer didn't tell me about you, either." She offered a tentative smile. "Or maybe he did, and I was still in shock." She recalled her conversation with Phil Harding, who'd upended her world when he contacted her after the funeral and said Lakeside Cabins was hers, though all her father's personal items would go to Brad and Abby. "Do you work here?"

Caleb shuffled the paintbrush from one hand to the other. "I've been fixing Lakeside up, but I can leave if you'd rather have the place to yourself." His tone held a hard edge.

"Not at all. I'll be glad to have your help. It looks like we have a lot of work to do." Though she didn't have a clue how to pay him. She made a mental note to ask the lawyer if there were provisions of some kind. After taking an unpaid leave from the surf shop, she was living on savings—meager ones, at that. "The sooner Lakeside is all fixed up, the sooner I can sell it."

"It could take a while." Caleb's neck bobbed with a hard swallow, as though he wanted to say more. His sunglasses kept her from further reading his expression, though it was becoming clear she made him uncomfortable.

"With the two of us working together, it'll speed things along." She smiled, hoping to defrost his stoic demeanor. Having an easy rapport with the handyman would make the work and the memories of Lakeside less painful. "Either way, I'll be here as long as it takes. But please, keep doing whatever you were doing." She gestured toward cabin two. "Every little bit helps."

Caleb offered a curt nod before he crossed back over the clearing and disappeared behind the small building.

Wind moaned through the trees, sending birds skittering from the branches. Robyn rubbed a chill from her arms. Something about being in the quiet space where her father lived so many years without her, so many years without birthdays and Christmases and simple phone calls, left her unsettled. She wished she'd disregarded her mother's repeated warnings to leave her dad and his family alone, that she was no longer welcome to visit. She should have at least tried to make peace. Now she'd never have the chance.

Robyn drew a fortifying breath before inserting the key into the lock. She worked the key and turned the knob several times, but it refused to budge. Before she could shimmy it out and try again, the phone in her pocket rang. Her thumb hovered over the button until she finally worked up the courage to answer. "Abby, how are you?"

"As good as can be expected. Listen, Brad and I haven't finished moving everything out yet, so he wants to make sure you don't take the armoire in the bedroom." Abby's voice had matured and no longer resembled the giggly pre-teen Robyn remembered.

She plugged her ear to drown out the wind. "I haven't even been inside yet. Trust me, I wouldn't have a way to move the furniture out even if I wanted to." She glanced at the rental car she'd put on her painfully thin credit card.

"Sorry, I know it's awkward." A long pause stretched over the line. "Brad just wants me to remind you that the furniture and personal belongings are ours. We'll be back to get them."

"I haven't forgotten." She swallowed her sadness. She and Abby had once been close until the argument that drove Robyn away from Pine Hollow—an argument with their father about how she felt less important than his other children. Lately she'd begun to crave the closeness of a real family, and now that circumstances had brought her back, she'd do whatever it took to restore her relationship with Brad and Abby. To find some sort of normalcy.

"Good. We wouldn't want any misunderstandings."

"Abby, I would never take what doesn't belong to me." She fingered the cross on her necklace and prayed for wisdom. "Maybe when you come out for the furniture we can have dinner. We have a lot of catching up to do."

Silence pulsed between them until Abby cleared her throat. "I'm not sure that's a good idea. We're still shaken up."

So was she. The tragedy of losing a parent—even an estranged one—was overwhelming.

"I mean, why would Dad leave Lakeside Cabins to you? No offense, but you haven't exactly been around."

The words stung with truth, and her face heated from the rejection. "I understand. Give me a call when you're ready to come by."

The line went dead. "Is everything okay?"

She whipped around, disconcerted. "Caleb, you startled me." She scanned his face to figure out how much he'd overheard. His expression remained neutral behind the sunglasses, which left her even more flustered.

"I heard voices and thought maybe you were talking to someone."

"I was. It was a private conversation." She jammed the phone into her pocket.

"I was only trying to help." Caleb held up his hands in surrender, then turned and stalked off.

"Wait." She scrambled down the stairs, her sandals slapping the wood. Exactly why she chased after the maintenance man or even cared what he thought, she'd have to reason out later. "I didn't mean to snap at you."

Caleb angled toward her, his mouth quirked. The masculine scent of turpentine and hard work drifted off him, and for some reason, it wasn't entirely unpleasant. "Apology accepted." His somber tone seemed to say otherwise.

Robyn ran her hand through her hair, snarled from the wind. "Really—I'm sorry. I'm not exactly great company right now after what happened to my dad. I'm normally easy to get along with—you'll see when we fix this place up, and before you know it I'll be long gone."

Judging from Caleb's formidable posture and the twitch of his jaw, her departure wouldn't be soon enough.

Caleb stormed into the office of Harding and Company and bypassed the receptionist. Without knocking, he entered the office of Phil Harding, attorney-at-law. "Why didn't you tell me she was coming?"

Phil tapped the keys on his computer without missing a stroke. "Almost finished. Then we can talk."

"You should've at least given me a heads-up." He pulled the door closed with a thud. "Didn't you think I might need that bit of information?"

All the way from the outskirts of Pine Hollow, he had rehearsed the diatribe he wanted to unleash on his so-called friend. But none of his imagined scenarios included Phil calmly pecking away at the keyboard.

Phil closed the program and spun around in his leather chair. "I presume you're talking about Robyn."

"Who else?" He dropped onto the cushioned seat, and if he dirtied the upholstery with his paint-stained pants, so be it.

"What'd she do?"

"She showed up." Simply arriving at the cabins was enough to infuse him with a jolt of reality. What originally seemed like a brilliant way to fulfill his promise quickly turned into the single worst idea he'd ever had the moment Robyn, with her sun-bleached hair and sorrow-filled eyes, told him she was Dan's daughter.

"Look, Caleb, I realize it's a little awkward."

"You think?" He blew out a frustrated breath. "I tried to play it cool in front of her, but you have no idea what that was like."

Phil removed his wire-rimmed glasses and wiped them with a handkerchief. In a placating tone, he resumed. "I can't control every variable. Did it occur to you I might have other projects I'm working on?"

He pushed out of the chair. "A phone call, Phil. That's all I needed."

"She came in only an hour ago and asked for the keys. I wasn't expecting her back in town so soon." Phil steepled his fingers and assessed Caleb with a concerned look. "I did mean to call you when I got the chance, but you're right. I should've made sure you were aware."

The admission took Caleb's boiling blood down to a simmer. He gripped the back of the chair and stole a few deep breaths. It wasn't entirely Phil's fault. The unease that chewed on Caleb day after endless day had fueled the tirade. "I shouldn't be this upset."

"You're under a lot of stress. It happens." Phil came around the desk and palmed Caleb's shoulder. "I know you want to do penance or something by fixing up Dan's place, but if you ask me, you should be home. You need time to recover."

"That's what the chief told me, but it was code for 'stay out of the police station until we decide whether or not you can keep your badge.' Waiting for the decision is killing me." A knot formed in his windpipe, cutting off his air. This was not the time to have a meltdown.

"It's procedure. Don't take it personally. You need to let go of the guilt."

"My career is personal. It's the one thing…" He stopped short of telling Phil it was the only reason his own father had accepted him and that carrying on the family tradition had come to mean everything after his father's untimely death while on active duty. Caleb took a moment to compose himself. "Bottom line is that I made a promise I intend to keep." He flinched at the unbidden memory of crouching over Dan on the sidewalk after he'd been hit by the reckless teen Caleb had been chasing. The older man had pleaded for help, and Caleb had looked into the dying man's eyes and promised to do everything in his power to make it all right—a promise he wasn't able to keep. At least not during the few remaining moments Dan was alive. Caleb swallowed the emotions that threatened to choke him. "I couldn't help him then, but fixing up his property is what I can do now. This isn't about me or guilt. It's all about keeping my promise to Dan."

"If that's what you need, fine. Don't worry about Robyn. She seems friendly enough, but it's not like you have to talk to her. Of course, she'll probably have some ideas about what she'd like to have done, but you pretty much have a handle on the situation."

"Her being friendly has nothing to do with how she'll feel once she knows."

"There are some things you can't control." Phil rubbed his temple. "I know you're worried about what happened, but I've looked into the station's policy myself. Legally speaking, you're not necessarily in the wrong. There's room for an officer to use discretion when a subject flees."

Too bad Caleb's discretion had led to Dan's death—the worst tragedy in Pine Hollow's history.

At the time, he was sure pursuing Aaron Dirkson was the right decision. How could he have known the teen would take the corner too fast and hit Dan? Still, he was compelled to defend himself. "The kid was a troublemaker. I was sure he'd been drinking that day, and I had a responsibility to get him off the street."

"You don't have to convince me." Phil met Caleb with a soft look. "You may not have been officially cleared, but I have faith Aaron will be convicted, and you'll be back patrolling the streets before you know it. In the meantime, give Robyn the benefit of the doubt. She might be surprisingly understanding."

"I don't want to borrow trouble." Caleb rubbed the back of his neck to ease the building tension. "I know I need to tell her, but as soon as I do she'll probably make me quit working on the cabins. I have to have something to keep me busy while I wait to hear whether or not I have a career left."

"Giving up your work at Lakeside wouldn't be the worst thing in the world." Phil's gentle tone burned like acid on an open wound.

Knowing his decision cost a man's life slammed his conscience as much as if he'd been the one behind the wheel. How would he quiet the guilt if he couldn't keep his promise to do everything he could for Dan? It was all he had left, especially if they stripped his badge.

"You don't understand." He paused for a deep breath. "I made a promise to a dying man, and if fixing up the cabins is all I can do to keep it, then that's what I'm doing." He gripped the back of the chair, knuckles white, and locked gazes with Phil. "Just give me a few days and let me tell her in my own way."

The intercom buzzed. "Yeah, Marge."

"Robyn Warner on the line for you."

Phil shot a reassuring glance. "I'll take it." He picked up the phone. "Robyn, what can I do for you?" His forehead wrinkled. "Stuck? You haven't been inside yet?"

Caleb shook his head as a warning.

Order:

Print books:

Harlequin.com

Harlequin.com (Large Print)

Barnes and Noble

Barnes and Noble (Large Print)

Amazon.com

Amazon.com (Large Print)

Christianbook.com

Booksamillion.com

Booksamillion.com (Large Print)



Ebooks:

Harlequin.com

Nookbook

Kindle

Kobobooks.com

iTunes

Sad Mac beanie

Captain Caffeine’s office at work is colder than Aunty Aikiko’s heart, and he wanted a unique beanie to wear. He chose the “sad Mac” icon that appears when your Mac has given up the ghost.



So I knit him this:







If you want to see the specs, you can check them out on Ravelry: http://ravel.me/camytang/smb

Non-knitters would probably be bored by my description of how I made it, so I posted it there.



What do you think??? I think the Captain’s coworkers will get a kick out of it.

Sushi for One giveaway on Goodreads!

Head over to my Goodreads group for a giveaway of Sushi for One! (You'll need to join my Goodreads group to enter.)

PROTECTION FOR HIRE available free as ebook!

If you signed up for my email newsletter, you should have gotten it this morning! In case you didn't, here's the archived link so you can get a free ebook copy of Protection for Hire!



Be sure to visit my website and subscribe to my newsletter list so you'll be sure to get my book updates!



Protection for Hire



Tessa Lancaster's skills first earned her a position as an enforcer in her Uncle Teruo's Japanese Mafia gang. Then they landed her in prison for a crime she didn't commit. Now, three months after her release, Tessa's abilities have gained her a job as bodyguard for wealthy socialite Elizabeth St. Amant and her three-year-old son.



But there's a problem or two ... or three .... There's Elizabeth's abusive husband whose relentless pursuit goes deeper than mere vengeance. There's Uncle Teruo, who doesn't understand why Tessa's new faith as a Christian prevents her from returning to the yakuza. And then there's Elizabeth's lawyer, Charles Britton, who Tessa doesn't know is the one who ensured that she did maximum time behind bars. Now Tessa and Charles must work together in order to protect their client, while new truths emerge and circumstances spiral to a deadly fever pitch.



Factor in both Tessa's and Charles's families and you've got some wild dynamics--and an action-packed, romantic read as Tessa and Charles discover the reality of being made new in Christ.

Giveaway - A DAUGHTER’S REDEMPTION by Georgiana Daniels

Today I’m giving away an autographed copy of A DAUGHTER’S REDEMPTION by Georgiana Daniels!



Inheriting her estranged father's property isn't the reason Robyn Warner wanted to come back to Pine Hollow. She thought she'd make amends with her father—but his sudden death made that impossible. And when she learns the identity of the handyman fixing the run-down cabins, Robyn is ready to flee Pine Hollow again. Caleb Sloane, the cop responsible for her father's accident, just wants to uphold his promise and then return to the force. But he can't seem to walk away. After all, he understands about guilt and regret. And he'll do everything he can to help Robyn find healing, happiness and—just maybe—a lifetime of love.



Excerpt of chapter one:



If the rest of the property was in the same sad condition as the front porch with its missing rails and bowed floorboards, Robyn Warner would be in Pine Hollow, Arizona, far longer than she'd anticipated. She wheeled her suitcase over the flagstone walkway and paused at the foot of her father's home to absorb the onslaught of memories.

It wasn't too late to turn around and hand the keys back to the lawyer managing her father's estate, though the sad huddle of cabins hardly qualified as such. What had once been a cozy mountain resort now looked pitiable and highly susceptible to a stiff wind. Her father certainly hadn't done her any favors by willing the property to her, but after more than a dozen years of silence, she was glad to be remembered at all.

Gravel crunched near cabin two—Robyn's favorite during her summer vacation stays as a child. A man in work pants and a paint-splattered T-shirt meandered out from between the ramshackle buildings. "Can I help you? It's easy to get lost out here."

"It certainly looks different than I remember, but this is the right place." She shaded her eyes to get a better look at the man who was tall and muscular without being imposing. He was the most clean-cut maintenance man she'd ever seen—and a nice contrast to the surfers with sand in their hair she was used to back at the surf shop she managed in California. She propped up the suitcase. "I'm Robyn Warner. And you are?"

"Caleb." He gestured toward the road. "Pine Hollow Resort is on the other side of the wash, about five miles down. Are you sure that's not where you were headed?"

"I'm here to check out.. " She caught herself before referring to Lakeside Cabins as hers. "I'm staying here. Dan Dawson was my dad." She fished the keys from her pocket and held them up. "I'll just let myself in."

The handyman scrutinized her as though assessing her legitimacy, much the same way her half siblings, Brad and Abby, had during the funeral last week. Gauging her motives and questioning her right to be there. Her right to grieve.

He swiped his brow with his arm and slid on a pair of sunglasses. "No one told me you were coming or I'd have cleared out."

"If it makes you feel better, the lawyer didn't tell me about you, either." She offered a tentative smile. "Or maybe he did, and I was still in shock." She recalled her conversation with Phil Harding, who'd upended her world when he contacted her after the funeral and said Lakeside Cabins was hers, though all her father's personal items would go to Brad and Abby. "Do you work here?"

Caleb shuffled the paintbrush from one hand to the other. "I've been fixing Lakeside up, but I can leave if you'd rather have the place to yourself." His tone held a hard edge.

"Not at all. I'll be glad to have your help. It looks like we have a lot of work to do." Though she didn't have a clue how to pay him. She made a mental note to ask the lawyer if there were provisions of some kind. After taking an unpaid leave from the surf shop, she was living on savings—meager ones, at that. "The sooner Lakeside is all fixed up, the sooner I can sell it."

"It could take a while." Caleb's neck bobbed with a hard swallow, as though he wanted to say more. His sunglasses kept her from further reading his expression, though it was becoming clear she made him uncomfortable.

"With the two of us working together, it'll speed things along." She smiled, hoping to defrost his stoic demeanor. Having an easy rapport with the handyman would make the work and the memories of Lakeside less painful. "Either way, I'll be here as long as it takes. But please, keep doing whatever you were doing." She gestured toward cabin two. "Every little bit helps."

Caleb offered a curt nod before he crossed back over the clearing and disappeared behind the small building.

Wind moaned through the trees, sending birds skittering from the branches. Robyn rubbed a chill from her arms. Something about being in the quiet space where her father lived so many years without her, so many years without birthdays and Christmases and simple phone calls, left her unsettled. She wished she'd disregarded her mother's repeated warnings to leave her dad and his family alone, that she was no longer welcome to visit. She should have at least tried to make peace. Now she'd never have the chance.

Robyn drew a fortifying breath before inserting the key into the lock. She worked the key and turned the knob several times, but it refused to budge. Before she could shimmy it out and try again, the phone in her pocket rang. Her thumb hovered over the button until she finally worked up the courage to answer. "Abby, how are you?"

"As good as can be expected. Listen, Brad and I haven't finished moving everything out yet, so he wants to make sure you don't take the armoire in the bedroom." Abby's voice had matured and no longer resembled the giggly pre-teen Robyn remembered.

She plugged her ear to drown out the wind. "I haven't even been inside yet. Trust me, I wouldn't have a way to move the furniture out even if I wanted to." She glanced at the rental car she'd put on her painfully thin credit card.

"Sorry, I know it's awkward." A long pause stretched over the line. "Brad just wants me to remind you that the furniture and personal belongings are ours. We'll be back to get them."

"I haven't forgotten." She swallowed her sadness. She and Abby had once been close until the argument that drove Robyn away from Pine Hollow—an argument with their father about how she felt less important than his other children. Lately she'd begun to crave the closeness of a real family, and now that circumstances had brought her back, she'd do whatever it took to restore her relationship with Brad and Abby. To find some sort of normalcy.

"Good. We wouldn't want any misunderstandings."

"Abby, I would never take what doesn't belong to me." She fingered the cross on her necklace and prayed for wisdom. "Maybe when you come out for the furniture we can have dinner. We have a lot of catching up to do."

Silence pulsed between them until Abby cleared her throat. "I'm not sure that's a good idea. We're still shaken up."

So was she. The tragedy of losing a parent—even an estranged one—was overwhelming.

"I mean, why would Dad leave Lakeside Cabins to you? No offense, but you haven't exactly been around."

The words stung with truth, and her face heated from the rejection. "I understand. Give me a call when you're ready to come by."

The line went dead. "Is everything okay?"

She whipped around, disconcerted. "Caleb, you startled me." She scanned his face to figure out how much he'd overheard. His expression remained neutral behind the sunglasses, which left her even more flustered.

"I heard voices and thought maybe you were talking to someone."

"I was. It was a private conversation." She jammed the phone into her pocket.

"I was only trying to help." Caleb held up his hands in surrender, then turned and stalked off.

"Wait." She scrambled down the stairs, her sandals slapping the wood. Exactly why she chased after the maintenance man or even cared what he thought, she'd have to reason out later. "I didn't mean to snap at you."

Caleb angled toward her, his mouth quirked. The masculine scent of turpentine and hard work drifted off him, and for some reason, it wasn't entirely unpleasant. "Apology accepted." His somber tone seemed to say otherwise.

Robyn ran her hand through her hair, snarled from the wind. "Really—I'm sorry. I'm not exactly great company right now after what happened to my dad. I'm normally easy to get along with—you'll see when we fix this place up, and before you know it I'll be long gone."

Judging from Caleb's formidable posture and the twitch of his jaw, her departure wouldn't be soon enough.

Caleb stormed into the office of Harding and Company and bypassed the receptionist. Without knocking, he entered the office of Phil Harding, attorney-at-law. "Why didn't you tell me she was coming?"

Phil tapped the keys on his computer without missing a stroke. "Almost finished. Then we can talk."

"You should've at least given me a heads-up." He pulled the door closed with a thud. "Didn't you think I might need that bit of information?"

All the way from the outskirts of Pine Hollow, he had rehearsed the diatribe he wanted to unleash on his so-called friend. But none of his imagined scenarios included Phil calmly pecking away at the keyboard.

Phil closed the program and spun around in his leather chair. "I presume you're talking about Robyn."

"Who else?" He dropped onto the cushioned seat, and if he dirtied the upholstery with his paint-stained pants, so be it.

"What'd she do?"

"She showed up." Simply arriving at the cabins was enough to infuse him with a jolt of reality. What originally seemed like a brilliant way to fulfill his promise quickly turned into the single worst idea he'd ever had the moment Robyn, with her sun-bleached hair and sorrow-filled eyes, told him she was Dan's daughter.

"Look, Caleb, I realize it's a little awkward."

"You think?" He blew out a frustrated breath. "I tried to play it cool in front of her, but you have no idea what that was like."

Phil removed his wire-rimmed glasses and wiped them with a handkerchief. In a placating tone, he resumed. "I can't control every variable. Did it occur to you I might have other projects I'm working on?"

He pushed out of the chair. "A phone call, Phil. That's all I needed."

"She came in only an hour ago and asked for the keys. I wasn't expecting her back in town so soon." Phil steepled his fingers and assessed Caleb with a concerned look. "I did mean to call you when I got the chance, but you're right. I should've made sure you were aware."

The admission took Caleb's boiling blood down to a simmer. He gripped the back of the chair and stole a few deep breaths. It wasn't entirely Phil's fault. The unease that chewed on Caleb day after endless day had fueled the tirade. "I shouldn't be this upset."

"You're under a lot of stress. It happens." Phil came around the desk and palmed Caleb's shoulder. "I know you want to do penance or something by fixing up Dan's place, but if you ask me, you should be home. You need time to recover."

"That's what the chief told me, but it was code for 'stay out of the police station until we decide whether or not you can keep your badge.' Waiting for the decision is killing me." A knot formed in his windpipe, cutting off his air. This was not the time to have a meltdown.

"It's procedure. Don't take it personally. You need to let go of the guilt."

"My career is personal. It's the one thing…" He stopped short of telling Phil it was the only reason his own father had accepted him and that carrying on the family tradition had come to mean everything after his father's untimely death while on active duty. Caleb took a moment to compose himself. "Bottom line is that I made a promise I intend to keep." He flinched at the unbidden memory of crouching over Dan on the sidewalk after he'd been hit by the reckless teen Caleb had been chasing. The older man had pleaded for help, and Caleb had looked into the dying man's eyes and promised to do everything in his power to make it all right—a promise he wasn't able to keep. At least not during the few remaining moments Dan was alive. Caleb swallowed the emotions that threatened to choke him. "I couldn't help him then, but fixing up his property is what I can do now. This isn't about me or guilt. It's all about keeping my promise to Dan."

"If that's what you need, fine. Don't worry about Robyn. She seems friendly enough, but it's not like you have to talk to her. Of course, she'll probably have some ideas about what she'd like to have done, but you pretty much have a handle on the situation."

"Her being friendly has nothing to do with how she'll feel once she knows."

"There are some things you can't control." Phil rubbed his temple. "I know you're worried about what happened, but I've looked into the station's policy myself. Legally speaking, you're not necessarily in the wrong. There's room for an officer to use discretion when a subject flees."

Too bad Caleb's discretion had led to Dan's death—the worst tragedy in Pine Hollow's history.

At the time, he was sure pursuing Aaron Dirkson was the right decision. How could he have known the teen would take the corner too fast and hit Dan? Still, he was compelled to defend himself. "The kid was a troublemaker. I was sure he'd been drinking that day, and I had a responsibility to get him off the street."

"You don't have to convince me." Phil met Caleb with a soft look. "You may not have been officially cleared, but I have faith Aaron will be convicted, and you'll be back patrolling the streets before you know it. In the meantime, give Robyn the benefit of the doubt. She might be surprisingly understanding."

"I don't want to borrow trouble." Caleb rubbed the back of his neck to ease the building tension. "I know I need to tell her, but as soon as I do she'll probably make me quit working on the cabins. I have to have something to keep me busy while I wait to hear whether or not I have a career left."

"Giving up your work at Lakeside wouldn't be the worst thing in the world." Phil's gentle tone burned like acid on an open wound.

Knowing his decision cost a man's life slammed his conscience as much as if he'd been the one behind the wheel. How would he quiet the guilt if he couldn't keep his promise to do everything he could for Dan? It was all he had left, especially if they stripped his badge.

"You don't understand." He paused for a deep breath. "I made a promise to a dying man, and if fixing up the cabins is all I can do to keep it, then that's what I'm doing." He gripped the back of the chair, knuckles white, and locked gazes with Phil. "Just give me a few days and let me tell her in my own way."

The intercom buzzed. "Yeah, Marge."

"Robyn Warner on the line for you."

Phil shot a reassuring glance. "I'll take it." He picked up the phone. "Robyn, what can I do for you?" His forehead wrinkled. "Stuck? You haven't been inside yet?"

Caleb shook his head as a warning.

Here’s how you enter:



1) You get one entry into the contest when you sign up for my email newsletter at http://www.camytang.com/. Please know that when you sign up, you will get an email asking you to click a link to confirm your subscription. If you don’t get that email or if you don’t click the link, you won’t be subscribed to my newsletter. If you already belong to my email newsletter, let me know!



2) You get a second entry into the contest if you Like my Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/CamyTangAuthor. If you already Like my Facebook page, let me know!



3) You get a third entry into the contest if you join my Goodreads group: http://www.goodreads.com/group/show/49078. If you already belong to my Goodreads group, let me know!



4) You get a fourth entry into the contest if you follow me on Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/camytang . If you already follow me on Twitter, let me know!



5) You get extra entries into the contest if you get someone else to join my email newsletter. Just email camy {at] camytang dot com with the person’s email address (new newsletter sign-ups only).



6) In the comments section of this blog post, let me know if you joined/already belong to my email newsletter, Facebook page and Goodreads group, and if you follow me on Twitter. Also please list the email address you used to sign up for my newsletter (please use this format--you [at] yourmail.com--or something like that to prevent spammers from trolling for your email address) OR if you're not comfortable posting your email, just email me at camy {at] camytang dot com with your entry.



I always email the winner and give him/her a week to reply, but if I don’t receive an answer, I will pull another person to win the book. It is the winner’s responsibility to check to see if you won and to email me if you haven’t yet heard from me. I am not responsible for a lost opportunity if you misspelled your email address, are on vacation, or leave an email address you don’t check frequently.



I’ll pick a winner on January 18th, 2013. The winner can expect his/her free book in 4-6 weeks.



Sorry, I’m limiting this to the US and Canada only because it’s too expensive for me to ship books internationally.



Don’t want to wait to see if you win? Order the book through one of the links below:



Order:

Print books:

Harlequin.com

Harlequin.com (Large Print)

Barnes and Noble

Barnes and Noble (Large Print)

Amazon.com

Amazon.com (Large Print)

Christianbook.com

Booksamillion.com

Booksamillion.com (Large Print)



Ebooks:

Harlequin.com

Nookbook

Kindle

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iTunes