Camy Tang's Blog, page 97

Regency Goodies giveaway winners

Congratulations to the winners of my Regency Goodies giveaway baskets:

Basket 1: Stephanie L.

Basket 2: Caryl K.

Basket 3: Jennifer F.

Basket 4: Pam B.

Basket 5: Jasmine A.

I've emailed all winners. You must respond within 2 weeks to claim your prize. If you don't hear from me, please do contact me through my website, Facebook, or Twitter.

As for the rest of you, I know you're crying in your Yorkshire Pudding. Cheer up! Buy my book and look forward to another giveaway in December!

Indie Christian Fiction Search

I’m very pleased to have a friend, Connie Almony, guest blogging today about a new website for Christian readers! Connie is a proponent of indie Christian fiction and this website is absolutely wonderful for finding a great Christian novel.

Here’s Connie:

So, you’re a voracious reader whose tablet is begging to be fed. Because you read a lot, you want a greater breadth of material, rather than the same-ole-same-ole, at reasonable ebook prices.

Boy, do I have the website for you!

Indie Christian Fiction Search—"Ickfuss (ICFS)" to its friends—is THE site to find Christian fiction written from the heart.


Why was this site created? For a number of reasons …

Independent fiction is growing rapidly as a viable choice for readers. Many authors whose stories have been spurned by traditional publishing houses solely on the basis of marketability of topic, have chosen this route of publication in order to fulfill the call God has placed on their hearts. Therefore, many readers who’ve wanted to sink into topics that are not the mega-trend of the day, are finding material that feeds their interests. This is great news to the avid Christian reader. It means a greater breadth of story, from a biblical point of view, that is also affordable. You can read lots of it without breaking the bank.

How does this website work?


First, as a reader enters the site, she will see “flipcards” of covers of books posted there. By clicking around, the viewer can group these books by genre and release date, or use the search box to show only books with a specific search criteria (ie. pirate, medieval, Viking, PTSD, disability). Readers can also choose different “views” on the site that will help them scroll easily through book-blurb excerpts, by genre or search criteria, to scan quickly through a lot of material and find the one most interesting to them. No other site has the ability to display this level of book information with this much ease as does Indie Christian Fiction Search. Additionally, there is a website newsletter poised to send out lists of new releases, and hot-picks to those readers begging for more.

ICFS was also created because as independent fiction grows, the need for REAL gatekeepers becomes increasingly important. Not just to ensure quality of product, but for the Christian reader, to set a standard of biblical content as well (see the ICFS Statement of Faith and Content Warnings). But now, it must be the READER who will lead the way, not the executive or the marketing team who makes decisions about the life or death of a story based on numbers that do not touch the hearts and minds of what each reader really wants. YOU can tell us what YOU think about a story and whether it relates to your world, be it small town, big city, Midwest or historical—not what the fad of the day dictates. YOU have the power. You just need a place to exercise it with others who share your faith and your passion for a great book.

Why do this on Indie Christian Fiction Search (ICFS)? Because it is the one site with the greatest ability to sift through large numbers of books at break-neck speed. And as it grows, with more books added, you will need that function more than ever! With ICFS, you can sort by genre, watching the little covers float across the page, or plug in search criteria, including author name, character professions, time-periods, story themes, etc. to find something that suits you to a tee. Plus, if you check out all its views and play with all of its functions (listed on the “How to Use This Site” page), it’s just plain fun—kinda like when automatic car-window openers were invented (I know, I’m dating myself :o)).


Check it out. Read the “How to …” page. Play with the views and try some search criteria. Watch what happens. Hee hee!

Indie Christian Fiction Search is a growing site. Make sure you come back again to see what happens after a few months! And don’t forget to sign up for the newsletter. I promise it will not load down your email inbox unnecessarily. It will be sent no more than quarterly.

Stop by IndieChristianFictionSearch.Blogspot.com and have some fun. You won’t be sorry!


Sign up for the newsletter NOW and be entered to win a $20 Amazon gift card. The winner will be announced on the newsletter page and informed via email on November 1, 2014.

Extended excerpt for TREACHEROUS INTENT

If you haven’t read it yet, here’s an extended excerpt of the first 2 chapters of TREACHEROUS INTENT, releasing in December. It’s also posted on my website.

I hope you enjoy!

CHAPTER ONE

Liam O’Neill frowned as he caught sight of the gray Mercedes sedan in his rearview mirror. Hadn’t he seen that car behind him several miles back, when he was driving through downtown Sonoma?

He scrubbed his face with one hand as he guided his beat-up pickup truck down the country road. He was exhausted—the nightmares had been especially bad last night. His tiredness was probably making him paranoid. As a skip tracer, tracking down people who didn’t want to be found or helping people disappear, he had his share of enemies, but he’d been monitoring the cars behind him and hadn’t noticed any obvious tail.

Moments later, the Mercedes turned off onto a side road. Clearly he needed more sleep. He was starting to imagine things.

It had been almost eighteen months since a medical discharge had sent him home from Afghanistan. His shoulder now only had crisscrossing pink scars, but the nightmares and occasional hallucinations hadn’t faded as quickly.

His cell phone rang, and he hit the button on his Bluetooth headset to answer it. “Liam.”

“It’s Shaun.”

“Hey, how’s Dad?” Liam’s brother had taken their father to the hospital that morning.

“Tired. He’s home now. But the doctor says he’s doing fine. Only a couple more chemo treatments to go. He should be feeling well enough for Christmas in a few weeks.”

Liam couldn’t share Shaun’s optimism. Dad’s diagnosis of leukemia a few months ago had rocked him as violently as the mine that had injured his shoulder. The worst part was, cancer wasn’t an enemy he could shoot at. He couldn’t defend his father the way he defended his unit.

So he did the only thing he could—he tried to burden his family as little as possible while this was going on.

Shaun said, “Monica asked me to call you. Instead of seeing Dad this afternoon, my lovely wife wants to know if you can come tomorrow.”

Liam’s shoulders tensed. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah. Monica just wants him to nap.”

“No problem.”

Liam’s GPS unit on his dashboard began telling him to turn. “Gotta go,” he said to Shaun.

“See you later.” His brother hung up just as Liam turned into a long driveway that wound up to a large, rambling farmhouse. The only indications that it was a battered women’s shelter were the three security cameras.

He walked up the steps to the front porch and peeked into the window to see what looked like a security room with video monitors, computers and two husky men watching Liam’s approach.

There was a security intercom and he pressed the button. “I’m Liam O’Neill, here to see Elisabeth Aday.”

“I don’t have you on the visitor’s list for today, sir,” a guard replied.

“I don’t have an appointment. I need to ask Ms. Aday a few questions about one of her clients. I don’t even need to come inside, if she wants to meet me out here on the porch.”

There were heavy footsteps, then the dead bolt drew back and the door opened to reveal a man with a weathered face and jet-black hair. His wary eyes pierced through Liam, but he stepped back to let Liam enter.

He stepped into a short entry hall with a door on either side, one to the security room and another to what looked like a small conference room. The entry hall ended with a stout-looking door, obviously made with reinforced steel. Liam guessed that was the door into the shelter itself.

The security guard said, “I’m afraid I’ll have to search you, sir.”

Liam submitted readily. He had a permit to carry a concealed weapon, but he’d left his gun locked in his truck. When he had given Liam a pat-down and a thorough sweep with a metal-detector wand, the security guard gestured to the conference room. “I’ll call Ms. Aday to let her know you’re here.”

Liam scanned the small room, sparsely decorated with only a large table and chairs surrounding it, and a smaller table in the corner with paper cups and napkins. This must be a place where the women in the shelter could meet with outsiders—close to the security guards and separated from the rest of the house.

Within minutes, he heard the heavy reinforced door open and then close before light footsteps approached. Liam had been expecting the young woman who entered, but he hadn’t expected the gut-punch reaction to how beautiful she was.

She wasn’t model-gorgeous, but there was something about the dark hazel eyes that spoke of courage, pain and compassion. Her skin seemed to glow like gold in the morning sunlight, and her dark straight hair, pulled back into a ponytail, glinted with reddish strands. But her mouth was serious, almost frowning as she looked at him. She studied him for a moment before closing the door and turning to face him.

Her self-composure and the way she waited for him to speak first was what Liam would have expected of a private investigator of her caliber. He found himself wanting to make her trust him as quickly as possible.

“I’m Liam O’Neill.”

She nodded but didn’t answer.

“I wanted to ask you a few questions about one of your clients.”

“I don’t speak to anyone about my clients,” she said crisply. Her voice was low, husky.

Liam opened his mouth to reply, but he was interrupted by a loud knocking at the front door. They both turned toward the noise, but at the rumbling sound of the security guard’s voice, speaking to whoever was outside, Elisabeth turned back to Liam.

“I’m a skip tracer,” Liam told her. “A woman named Patricia hired me to find her sister, Joslyn, who disappeared a few weeks ago from San Francisco.”

Elisabeth hadn’t moved a muscle, but Liam could tell that she had tensed and was trying not to show it.

“Patricia said that Joslyn might be escaping her abusive boyfriend and using a different name,” Liam continued. “I found out that a woman named Joslyn came here and that you helped her.”

“How do you know it’s the same Joslyn?”

“I’ve been tracking a woman who matches Joslyn Bautista’s description.” He held up his phone with a photo that Patricia had given to him. “I just want to find out if she’s safe. Her sister is worried.”

Elisabeth’s mouth tightened. Then she said in a strangled voice, “Joslyn doesn’t have a sister.”

Liam’s breath caught in his throat.

At that moment, they could hear a man’s voice speaking loudly through the intercom. “I told you, I’m with Liam O’Neill. I know he’s here already.” The voice had a faint Filipino accent.

Liam reacted instinctively. He moved toward the conference room door and tried to reach for his concealed gun before remembering he’d left it in the truck. “Get under the table,” he ordered Elisabeth before he yanked open the door.

The security guard replied to the man through the intercom, “Sir, Mr. O’Neill is in a conference with Ms. Aday. I’ll have to ask him first before I let you inside.” The guard turned his head and caught sight of Liam.

“He’s not with me,” Liam said urgently. “Don’t let him—”

There was the deafening blast of a shotgun as the wooden front door exploded into splinters. Liam leaped backward and fell against Elisabeth, who had come up behind him.

The man’s voice shouted, “You send Joslyn out here now or we’ll blow this place apart!”

Elisabeth stumbled backward into the conference room, landing hard against a chair, as Liam backed into her. The sound of the gunshot still rang in her ears.

She shoved away from Liam. “What did you do? Who are you?”

But Liam’s entire body had tensed. There was a haunted look in his dark blue eyes, and though he stared at the open doorway, he didn’t seem to see it.

She’d seen behavior like this before in ex-military men. One had reacted in exactly this way to loud bang noises—the tensed muscles, the wide unseeing eyes—a waking nightmare brought on by his post-traumatic stress disorder.

Liam carried himself tall and strong, like a soldier, and he wore his hair in a buzz cut that emphasized his sharp cheekbones and wide jaw. Was he ex-military? Was it possible he suffered from PTSD?

He gathered himself together with an effort.

“Liam,” she said urgently.

He took a few quick breaths, getting his bearings again, then turned to her. “He’s not with me.”

“He knew your name.”

“He must be working with Patricia—or whatever her name really is.” A muscle tightened in his jaw. “You have to believe me.”

She had developed a habit of not trusting people readily, but she wanted to believe him. Maybe because his first reaction had been to tell her to get to safety.

Elisabeth moved to the blinds and peeked out. “He’s not alone.” There was a gray Mercedes parked behind an ancient pickup truck she assumed was Liam’s—and three other cars had just pulled up.

The man at the front door looked Filipino, with dusky skin and dark hair, and he waved a shotgun around a bit dramatically. Elisabeth pegged him as a hothead who would shoot first and ask questions later. Behind him, at the base of the porch steps, stood a shorter Filipino man who looked nervous, making Elisabeth wonder if the hothead had been ordered to attack the shelter or if he had done that on his own initiative.

The two security guards had pulled their firearms, but they remained inside the security room. Elisabeth and Liam hovered in the conference room doorway. Her primary weapon was back in the shelter, and she was just about to pull her secondary weapon hidden under her pants leg when the hothead called out, “Where’s Joslyn? I want to see her! Or else bring out that Aday woman!”

A shiver spiked through Elisabeth at the mention of her name. Liam shot her a look of concern.

“That’s it!” The hothead kicked the door open.

Frank, the security guard closest to the door, jerked back as a piece of wood flew at his face. Bill, the younger guard, recklessly rushed the hothead to try to disarm him.

Liam moved to shield Elisabeth with his body just before the shotgun went off, the sound almost masking Bill’s gasp of pain.

Elisabeth peeked out the doorway to see Bill fall to the floor clutching his shoulder, blood seeping between his fingers.

Liam was up from the ground in a flash. Elisabeth followed suit, grabbing her gun from her ankle holster.

Liam elbowed the attacker in the face, making his grip on the shotgun loosen, and then knocked the weapon away. The man threw a punch, but Liam blocked it and grabbed the man in a wrestling move. The two of them spun and staggered in the small entry hallway, thudding against the walls.

The nervous man hesitated at the bottom of the porch stairs. Elisabeth opened the conference room window and fired her pistol into the air. The nervous man ducked and scurried to the open door of the gray Mercedes. “Stay right there,” she called out.

Men had emerged from the other three cars, but at her shot, they backed behind their open doors. She wished there was a way for her to help Liam, but the armed men in front had her full attention.

One Filipino man, dressed in an expensive gray suit, purple silk shirt and purple tie, stood up so that he was only partially covered by the door of the car he’d been driving. “We only want Joslyn.”

“She’s not here. Get in your cars and drive away. No one has to get hurt.”

The man’s handsome, arrogant face creased in a vicious smile. He obviously wanted to hurt someone—probably Joslyn. Elisabeth hadn’t spent much time with the young woman, but she’d been frightened, penniless and alone with the distinctive mark of a man’s fingers around her wrist and a strange-looking cut above her eye that Elisabeth guessed was from a ring.

Elisabeth should know. She herself had a strange-shaped scar above her left cheek.

Had that mark on Joslyn’s face been caused by the flashy gold ring glinting on this man’s finger?

“I’ve already called the police,” yelled Frank’s voice from the other window. He must be like her, crouched at the corner of the open window. Most of the time, Frank and Bill were needed for enraged ex-boyfriends or husbands who came to demand their women back—not standoffs with whole groups of Filipino men in expensive cars and silk shirts. Elisabeth realized that each of them wore something purple and gray.

It would take at least fifteen minutes for a policeman to arrive. Elisabeth hoped they could hold them off for that long—without anyone getting shot. Liam still struggled with the other man.

Suddenly, a body flew down the front porch and landed on the ground. Elisabeth caught a glimpse of dark hair and a purple sock as a pants leg rode up. It was the hothead.

Immediately, Liam was beside her on the other side of the window, holding a firearm—probably Bill’s. His dark blue eyes scanned the scene in front, his mouth tight. “How long before the police can arrive?” he whispered.

“At least fifteen minutes.”

“They won’t stay put forever.”

“We only want Joslyn,” the man with the ring repeated loudly.

“O’Neill was talking to her.” It was the nervous man, still huddled behind the Mercedes, speaking to his boss.

Elisabeth tried not to flinch. She had been half-hoping the chaos would make the men forget about what Frank had told them. They obviously knew all about Liam being hired to find Joslyn.

And now they knew Elisabeth’s name. She was on the shelter’s website on the volunteer page—her picture, her full name, her website link, for anyone wanting to hire a private investigator who volunteered her services for a battered women’s shelter.

Then suddenly Elisabeth heard a faint wailing. A police car, ten minutes sooner than expected. The officer must have already been in the area.

The Filipino men heard it, too. Their leader called “let’s go” to them in Tagalog, and they got back in their cars. Their driving was impeccably organized—within one minute they were heading down the driveway and turning away from the shelter just as a police car shot into view. It pursued them, red lights flashing.

Elisabeth reholstered her firearm, sagging against the wall next to the window. This was something she didn’t do every day—have a standoff with eight armed men.

Liam also relaxed, breathing heavily, and lowered his weapon. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Elisabeth studied his tall, muscular frame. He looked like he’d be carrying a few bruises, but thankfully there were no signs of blood.

He turned the full force of those dark blue eyes on her, and she found it hard to breathe. She hadn’t been attracted to any man in so long…ever since Cruise. The name of her ex-boyfriend was like a bucket of cold water, and Liam turned back into just a man—a handsome one, but not one to be trusted.

“I’m sorry.” Liam’s voice was hoarse.

“For almost getting me shot or for ruining my morning?” she quipped. She needed to get some distance from what had just happened. And from the emotional intensity in Liam’s eyes.

“Those men must have followed me. While I was driving, I thought I might have been tailed, but I wasn’t sure.”

“They had four cars here. They might have used a four-car team to tail you, which would have been harder to notice.”

Unease crept into his eyes. “But what’s worse is that they followed me straight to you.”



CHAPTER TWO

He’d just put an innocent woman in danger.

No, it was even worse than that. He’d put two innocent women in danger.

The fact that Liam had practically delivered Elisabeth to those men on a silver platter filled him with guilt as police officers swarmed around the women’s shelter. Some of the residents were outside now, looking fearfully at the broken front door, while police officers ranged around the property, going in and out of the house through side doors.

An ambulance had pulled up front and the injured security guard, Bill, was being patched up from where his shoulder had been grazed. The older security guard was giving Bill an earful about his foolhardy actions.

Detective Carter of the Sonoma police department had just arrived. Liam had worked with the man several times over the past few months, contracted by the Sonoma police to track people down.

“Did you catch any of the men who drove away?” he asked Detective Carter as the officer approached.

He shook his head, his thinning red-gold hair glinting in the sunlight. “Officer Fong happened to be nearby when the security guards hit their direct signal to dispatch, but the four cars split up as soon as they left the driveway. Officer Fong followed one of them but lost the car.”

Elisabeth sighed. “I guess it was too much to hope that we got a couple of them for questioning.”

“You don’t know who they were?” Detective Carter asked.

She shook her head. “I think they were Filipino. The leader spoke in Tagalog to his men.”

“What exactly did they want?” Detective Carter asked.

“They demanded that we turn over one of my clients,” Elisabeth said.

“What client?”

“She told me her name was Joslyn Flores.”

“A few days ago, a woman who called herself Patricia hired me to find her sister, Joslyn Bautista,” Liam said. “She’d disappeared a few weeks ago, and her ‘sister’ was worried.”

“Nothing about it seemed unusual?” Detective Carter asked.

Liam grimaced. The detective had often praised Liam’s gut instincts, but they seemed to have failed him this time. “She seemed sincere. It was a little unusual when she paid the deposit in cash, but she said it was because she didn’t want her husband to know because he didn’t believe Joslyn was missing. I ran a cursory background check on her and she seemed to be who she said she was. The records showed that Patricia’s last name had been Baustista before she’d married Joseph Santos, and her sister Joslyn lived with them in Los Angeles.”

“I know Joslyn didn’t have any sisters,” Elisabeth said. “When I was training her to go off grid, she had to be honest with me about any relatives she might run into. I saw her face. She wasn’t lying to me when she said she didn’t have siblings.”

“I should have dug deeper. A hacker could have created a credible background for Patricia,” Liam said. “Patricia said that Joslyn may have been traveling under a different last name. I followed a few leads that pointed to Ms. Aday.” Liam nodded to Elisabeth. “That’s why I came here today, to ask her if she’d helped Joslyn.”

“Did you tell Patricia you were coming here today?” Detective Carter asked.

“No. When I was driving here, I thought I might have been tailed but I couldn’t be sure. The men came in four cars, so they might have traded off tailing me.”

“Hiring a hacker and using a four-car tail?” Detective Carter frowned. “This isn’t some small operation. These guys are organized and have money.”

Liam told him about speaking to Elisabeth and being interrupted by the man at the front door who claimed he was with Liam. “The guard let slip that I was with Elisabeth. He mentioned her by name.” If only he’d been a second faster, he could have prevented that guard from saying anything.

Detective Carter looked sharply at them both. “So if he didn’t know who you’d come to see, he does now.”

Liam explained about the man shooting the door and rushing in, about Bill jumping him and Liam struggling with him. It had been a lot harder than he’d expected because his injured shoulder had flared up. He rubbed it, still feeling the ache.

Detective Carter noticed. “Your shoulder still okay?”

“It’s fine.”

The detective shook his head. “I want you to see the paramedic when we’re done here.”

“Detective—”

“Injuries like that are always bad.” The detective’s gray eyes on Liam were steely but concerned. “You don’t want to learn you’ve made things worse when you’re in the middle of chasing someone and you find you can’t pull yourself over a fence.”

Liam put his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine.”

“What injury?” Elisabeth asked.

“Shoulder wound. Afghanistan,” Liam said. It was bad enough his injury had worried his dad. Now even Detective Carter was interrupting taking their statements to worry about him. Liam couldn’t have that.

Elisabeth studied his face for a moment, and surprisingly she seemed to understand his reluctance to draw attention to his shoulder. She turned back to Detective Carter. “I tried to see the license plate but didn’t have a good enough angle.”

“I only saw a partial as they got away,” Liam said. “3-T-something.”

Detective Carter noted it down in his notebook.

She explained the rest of what happened. Liam winced again when she mentioned how the man had told his boss that she was talking to Liam.

Detective Carter’s expression was alert. “They only got your last name?”

“But I’m on the shelter website. Full name, photograph and my professional contact info. The men only needed to use a smartphone to check the website to find me.”

“And you have no idea who they were and why they wanted Joslyn?” Detective Carter asked.

“Four cars seems excessive for an angry ex-boyfriend who wants her back,” Liam said.

“She never mentioned anything about her ex,” Elisabeth said. “She was scared and penniless. Luckily she didn’t need medical attention when she arrived. She left as soon as she could.”

“That seems unusual,” the detective said.

“It is. Most women are relieved to find somewhere safe. They’re not yet thinking about the future. Joslyn was grateful to the shelter, but she was still anxious to move on. She took off early one morning and no one saw her leave.”

“Ms. Aday, you’re in danger if they think you know where Joslyn is,” Detective Carter said.

“They don’t know for sure that she’s not at the shelter,” Elisabeth pointed out.

“I don’t know how long that’ll keep them from trying to find you,” Liam said. He saw the shiver that passed over her.

“I’ll post an officer here to make sure the shelter’s safe from any other attacks,” the detective said. “But I’m afraid we’re stretched pretty thin. Unless you’re directly threatened, I don’t believe I can get authorization for a protective detail on either of you.”

Elisabeth said, “Don’t worry, I can take care of myself,” at the same time that Liam said, “I’ll be fine.”

“I know you’re both pretty competent, but just be careful.” He nodded to them and went to talk to one of the other officers nearby.

“You need some type of protection,” Liam blurted out. “Let me help you. It’s my fault they’re after you now. I led them here.”

She blinked in surprise, and he thought he saw a hint of warmth in her hazel eyes at his concern for her. But then she lifted her chin. “I’m a licensed private investigator with advanced tactical and defensive handgun training. I think I’ll be okay.”

He was impressed. Still… “No one can be completely safe on their own. Personally, I know I wouldn’t stand a chance against eight men. The two of us could help each other out.”

Again, she blinked at him. Now she looked wary. “Help each other to do what?”

“Figure out who those men are, and why they want Joslyn so badly.” Liam looked deep into her eyes, wanting her to understand how sincere he was. “Let me help you.”

Those dark blue eyes were almost hypnotic.

Elisabeth couldn’t look away from Liam. Finally, she had to close her eyes and turn her head away.

He wanted to protect her. It had been so long, she’d forgotten what it was like to rely on someone else, to not have to always stand on her own two feet.

But trusting someone wasn’t who she was anymore. She’d had to learn that lesson the hard way—she wasn’t about to open herself up to that again.

Still, she had to admit she was touched by the deferential way he spoke to her, as if he really respected her abilities and wasn’t just placating her. Most of the men she encountered—the ones who had betrayed her and the abusers who came to the shelter in search of their victims—were condescending in the way they treated women. It surprised her to find one who wasn’t.

And really, who was she kidding? What chance did she have against eight armed men? She might be stubborn, but she wasn’t stupid.

She kept her expression cool; calculating. “What did you have in mind? I’m not much into someone shadowing my every step.”

He smiled and it transformed him, softened his wide jaw, making his eyes gleam. “I promise I’m house-trained.”

“Good, because I just got a new apartment here in Sonoma.” A muscle in her neck spasmed. She hadn’t meant to share that. There was something about Liam, some aura of safety he emitted that enveloped her, too, and made her let down her guard. She couldn’t afford to do that.

Liam looked at the people milling around, and with a gentle hand on her elbow, guided her down the long driveway.

“For starters, let’s see if we can reconstruct what happened with Joslyn. How did she find the shelter?”

“I have a few contacts in Los Angeles, some churches and shelters. They refer women to this shelter if they have an especially vindictive or persistent abuser.”

“You have no idea where Joslyn might have gone from here?”

Elisabeth chewed her lip. Was Liam truly trustworthy? But she trusted Detective Carter—she’d seen him handle some of the men who had found their victims at the shelter, and the other volunteers had always spoken highly of him. From his manner with Liam, Detective Carter obviously had respect for him. “I’m not sure,” Elisabeth said slowly, “but when I was coaching her, I mentioned Oregon once as an option, and she seemed interested.”

“Oregon’s a big state.”

“I also taught her how to hide, and it might not be safe for us to even try to find her. I don’t want to lead these men straight to her. If it comes down to it, I won’t risk Joslyn’s safety. I’d rather work on this end and try to find out who they are and why they’re after her.”

“Joslyn didn’t say anything about who she was running from?”

“No.” Elisabeth thought back to her short few days with Joslyn. “She had been badly beaten about a week before. She had bruises fading from her arms and shoulders, a cut on her face, a broken rib—I think she’d been kicked—and a broken hand. Her injuries had all been bandaged up by some clinic or emergency room.”

Liam’s expression had become grave and hard as she listed Joslyn’s injuries. “Her ex-boyfriend did that to her?”

“She seemed afraid of him, but at the same time, I thought there was some anger behind all that fear, which is unusual.” She then remembered something. “She might have had ligature marks on her wrists. At least, they looked that way to me, and they were her freshest bruises.”

“He tied her?” His voice was muffled by his tight jaw.

Men’s anger used to make Elisabeth flinch. As she’d regained her self-esteem, she’d had to train herself to face it with calm confidence, remembering she was no longer that victim. But Liam’s anger, directed at the man who’d hurt Joslyn, made Elisabeth realize he was someone who wouldn’t stand for anyone lifting a finger to her. What would it be like to have someone who wanted to guard her and care for her? She hadn’t had anyone like that since she was sixteen, when her mother died.

“Some abusers do that, but it’s unusual,” she said.

“The way I see it, the only way you or I will ever be safe is to figure out what’s going on,” Liam said.

“It sounds better than just sitting around and waiting,” she admitted. “Let’s talk to some of the women at the shelter to see if anyone knows anything about Joslyn.”

Liam nodded, but as they walked back up the driveway toward the house, he said, “We’d better be discreet. Detective Carter might not appreciate us doing our own investigation when the police are on it already.”

“I’m a private investigator. This is my job.” They walked in silence for a few moments, then she said, “You’re pretty friendly with Detective Carter.”

“He’s known my family for a long time. When I started my skip-tracing business, he sent some work my way.”

“I do some freelance for the San Francisco FBI,” she found herself saying, and bit her lip to keep herself from blurting out more. What was it about Liam that made her so eager to overshare about her life? “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like I was bragging.”

His eyes twinkled at her. “An occasional dose of humility is good for a man’s character.”

She didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t often met men who could make fun of themselves this way.

At the back of the house, there was a fenced-in recreation area for the residents, and Elisabeth knew the key combination to open the gate. She nodded to Witton—one of the house security guards—who stood watching over the children on the play-set. As soon as some of the women saw her, they came up to talk.

“Are you all right?” Kalea, a staff member at the house, grasped Elisabeth’s hand, but she also cast a curious look at Liam.

“I’m fine. This is Liam O’Neill. He’s a skip tracer and he works with Detective Carter.”

Several of the women visibly relaxed.

Elisabeth gave an abbreviated account of what had happened.

“Joslyn?” Kalea’s eyebrows rose. “But she left weeks ago.”

“Do those men still think she’s here?” Witton’s dark brows lowered over his deep-set eyes.

“Not sure,” Liam said. “Detective Carter is assigning some officers to watch over the house, though.”

“What do they want with her?” Kalea asked.

“We don’t know,” Elisabeth said.

Kalea looked thoughtful. “She didn’t say much when she was here.”

“She enjoyed playing with the children,” one of the women spoke up.

“Miss Joslyn was sick,” said Kayoi, a precocious little girl with large eyes and a narrow chin.

Her mother tried to hush her, but Elisabeth said, “No, I’d like to know what Kayoi saw.” She knelt in front of the girl. “What do you mean, she was sick?” From what Elisabeth could tell, Joslyn had been healthy, aside from her injuries.

“She was throwing up in the bathroom,” Kayoi said. “Early in the morning, before breakfast.”

Joslyn could have been vomiting for a variety of reasons, but one zoomed to the top of Elisabeth’s list.

“I asked her if she wanted me to get Miss Kalea, but Miss Joslyn said she was only a little sick and didn’t need help.”

“Thank you, Kayoi. That’s helpful.” Elisabeth rose to her feet and caught Liam’s eye. From his expression, she figured he had made the same guess.

“Was she pregnant?” Kalea asked in a low voice.

“If she was, she didn’t tell me,” Elisabeth said.

Kalea leaned close to her. “Are you in danger from those men who are after her? Are you going to be all right?”

Elisabeth didn’t want to lie to her, but she didn’t want to worry her, either. However, Liam answered for her. “I’ll keep her safe. Don’t worry.”

His words should have annoyed her—after all, she was able to take care of herself. But his tone was earnest rather than arrogant, and if she was honest with herself, it was good to know someone had her back.

Not that she’d let herself rely on that. No, he might sound trustworthy now, but she’d seen too many broken promises to start trusting someone now just because they seemed earnest. He wanted to protect her? Fine. But she wouldn’t stop protecting herself.

Kalea squeezed Elisabeth’s hand. “We’ll be praying for you, okay?”

Elisabeth’s answering smile was stiff. She loved volunteering at Wings shelter, but the faith of the owners and the staff occasionally made her uncomfortable. She didn’t feel any affinity to a God who had failed her at some key points in her life.

She spoke to a few of the other women there, giving reassurances and answering questions, but she learned nothing new about Joslyn. She had just left a group of women when she saw Tiffany sitting alone on a bench, soaking in the sun. Tiffany didn’t obviously signal to Elisabeth, but she held her gaze and tilted her head slightly. Her expression was anxious.

Elisabeth casually walked over and sat beside her. “How are you feeling?”

Tiffany rubbed a hand over her distended stomach. “Tired. The baby’s been kicking a lot lately.”

“So you heard that the men were looking for Joslyn?”

Tiffany nodded. She whispered, “I saw her, the night she left.”

“What happened?”

“I woke up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. When I was heading back to bed, I spotted Joslyn just as she was closing her door. She looked scared to see me. I knew right away she was leaving. I tried to get her to stay, I told her she was safe here.”

“She didn’t believe you?”

“Joslyn said that he’d never stop looking for her until she was dead, because she’d embarrassed him. She said that she had seen him kill a man for no good reason, so he’d certainly kill her.”

Elisabeth started in surprise. “She witnessed a murder?”

“I told her to speak to Detective Carter, but she said she didn’t have proof outside of what she saw, and she wouldn’t live to testify against him. She was certain that the only way she’d ever be safe would be when he was in jail, and until then, she had to keep running from him. And then she left.” Tiffany’s lips were white. “Was he the man who came to the shelter today?”

“I don’t know.” She took Tiffany’s hand. “But don’t worry. You’re safe here.”

Tiffany nodded, but her shoulders still hunched, as if trying to protect her unborn child. “Please don’t tell anyone I told you about this.”

“I won’t.” Elisabeth gave her hand a final squeeze, then went to speak to some other staff workers.

She was distracted by the sound of children squealing. Liam had entered into a tickle war with four children at once, and they were having a grand time. Liam squirmed out of the way of little hands even as he wiggled his fingers at tummies, making the children shriek and leap aside.

The mothers laughed, and the joyful sounds seemed to erase the somber mood. The women came here out of such pain, and this lighthearted play seemed to Elisabeth to bring not just a respite but also a sense of hope for the future. And it was all because of Liam.

Finally, Elisabeth and Liam decided to leave. Two little boys clung to his legs and rode along for a few steps as he walked.

“Please, Mr. Liam, don’t go,” one of them said, looking up at him.

“You can stay in my bed,” the other one said.

Liam grinned and managed to untangle their little arms from his legs, ruffling their hair. “I’ll come back.”

As they left, Elisabeth said, “You’re really good with kids.”

“I like them.” The grin was still on his face. “I hope I have—” He stopped abruptly, and his smile faded.

Did he hope to have kids of his own? Why would that thought make him so sad?

You’re being nosy, Elisabeth told herself. Never mind that she was an investigator and she was always observing people. She didn’t want to wonder about Liam or his life. She wasn’t even sure it was a good idea to partner with him. She just wasn’t used to working with someone. She usually only depended on herself, and that’s what she was comfortable with.

That thought suddenly made her feel very alone.

She shook it off and refocused on Liam. “If Joslyn is pregnant, that might be what had spurred her to run away. She’d want to protect her baby.”

Elisabeth also told Liam what Tiffany had said—keeping Tiffany’s name out of it, as she’d requested—about Joslyn witnessing her ex-boyfriend murdering someone.

“We need to look into that murder,” Liam said. “Joslyn said she had no evidence, but with our skills and training, we might find something she missed. And to start, we could look into the men who attacked us today.”

“Did you notice their clothes? They all wore purple and gray. Was it a uniform? Are they part of some organization?”

Liam hesitated, then said, “Gang colors.”

Elisabeth thought about it. “Maybe. There are a lot of Filipino gangs up and down the West Coast. But they’re mostly in the big cities.”

“They could be from one of the cities. That murder Joslyn witnessed might be important enough to make them drive to Sonoma.” Liam looked thoughtful. “I have a friend who used to be LAPD. He could chat with someone from the gang task force. But that’s just for Los Angeles.”

“I’ll call some of my contacts with the San Francisco FBI.”

“Maybe Detective Carter has contacts in Portland and Seattle.”

“We have to find a way to put Joslyn’s ex-boyfriend in jail, just like Joslyn said,” Elisabeth said. “Until then, none of us will be safe.”

© 2014 Camy Tang

Novella collections?

I’m over at ChristiansRead asking questions about novella collections. Do you like reading them or do you prefer full length novels? What’s the last novella collection you bought? What’s the last novella collection you read?

Guest post and giveaway by Sally Bradley

Hey peeps, I’m thrilled to host Sally Bradley today! I first heard about her book, Kept, years ago when she first was writing it and thought the story premise was absolutely fascinating. It’s wonderful to see this book finally in print (and what a gorgeous cover, too!).

Here’s the back cover blurb for her book:

"Gutsy and fast-paced."—Laura Frantz, author of Love's Reckoning

"One of the most surprising and best books I’ve read this year."—MaryLu Tyndall, best-selling author of Legacy of the King's Pirates series

Life has taught Miska Tomlinson that there are no honorable men. Her womanizing brothers, her absentee father, and Mark, the married baseball player who claims to love her—all have proven undependable. But Miska has life under control. She runs her editing business from her luxury condo, stays fit with daily jogs along Chicago's lakefront, and in her free time blogs anonymously about life as a kept woman.

Enter new neighbor Dillan Foster. Between his unexpected friendship and her father's sudden reappearance, Miska loses control of her orderly life. Her relationship with Mark deteriorates, and Miska can't help comparing him to Dillan. His religious views are so foreign, yet the way he treats her is something she's longed for. But Dillan discovers exactly who she is and what she has done. Too late she finds herself longing for a man who is determined to never look her way again.
When her blog receives unexpected national press, Miska realizes that her anonymity was an illusion. Caught in a scandal about to break across the nation, Miska wonders if the God Dillan talks about would bother with a woman like her—a woman who's gone too far and done too much.

"Vibrant characters, compelling questions, modern-day issues... Kept is a contemporary Christian classic along the lines of Redeeming Love. Impossible to put down, this story pulls us into the heart of Chicago and shows us how God’s hand can work, even when we repeatedly make the wrong choices. Sally Bradley’s voice is gripping and clear, and her debut is a shining beacon of how very relevant Christian fiction can be."—Heather Day Gilbert, author of God's Daughter and Miranda Warning.

Here’s a bit about Sally:

Sally Bradley writes big-city fiction with real issues and real hope. A Chicagoan since age five, she now lives in the Kansas City area with her family. You can find her online at Loading...

SUSHI FOR ONE: deleted scene chapter 24

I found another deleted scene from Sushi for One tucked away in the depths of my computer. This one was a short scene originally inserted at the beginning of Chapter 24, but it got axed since I was over word limit, and my editor pointed out it didn’t do much for the storyline.

For those of you who haven’t read Sushi for One, don’t worry, this won’t ruin the book for you. For those of you who have read it, you’ll hopefully get a chuckle over some of the snarkiness that got cut from the original book.

I’m also giving away the last of my author copies of Sushi for One over at Goodreads! Click here to enter (you must belong to Goodreads to enter). Ends September 20th.

They got her into the apartment, and Venus went to collect the Igloo ice machine and the CPM machine. She set the CPM on the bed.

“The bed’s too short.”

“What do you mean?”

“When you lie down, I have to move the machine here to fit under your leg.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, the edge of the machine is hanging over the end of the bed.”

Lex peered down. “That’s just great.”

“I’ll have to move it onto the bed.”

“But I’ll bang my head against the wall.”

“Would you rather have the machine drop to the floor? With your leg attached?”

“Good point.”

Venus started lugging boxes to the foot of Lex’s bed. “Alan said the CPM machine needs a footboard or something to hit against, because the passive motion will move it backwards.” She had to squeeze past the box once it was in place.

“How am I going to get to the bathroom?”

Venus shrugged.

“I hope I don’t have to go badly. It’ll take so long to get past the boxes—”

“Your fault for getting such a cramped studio.” Venus glared at her.

Lex glared back. “Helloooo? I’m in pain, here?”

“I’ll set up your ice machine.” Venus peered into the Igloo. “Needs more ice.”

She headed to Lex’s freezer. “No way.”

“What?”

“You don’t have an ice maker?”

“Oh. Uh . . . no.”

Venus looked around, saw Lex’s ice chest. “I’ll go get ice from Safeway. We’ll store it in that.” She picked up her purse and left.

Lex stared at the stains on the ceiling. This day was getting worse and worse.

Venus’s rattling of the door knob woke her from her doze.

“Got the ice.”

“Thanks.”

Venus stopped. “Are you actually being polite today? What a shocker.”

Lex frowned.

Venus chortled and dumped the ice into the ice machine. She hooked Lex up, and a spurt of cold crept over the surface of her knee. It numbed the throbbing pain.

“Where’s your extension cord?”

“What extension cord?”

“You don’t have one?”

“Do you see a lot of electrical appliances?”

Venus gusted out a frustrated sigh. She bent to pick up her purse. “I’ll be back.” Her snarl rumbled in the room after she slammed the door shut.

© 2014 Camy Tang

Regency Goodies Giveaway

To celebrate the release of my debut Regency romance, Prelude for a Lord, I’m holding a huge giveaway of books, hand-knit lace shawls, Jane Austen tea, and violin Christmas ornaments!


I’m giving away FIVE baskets. Each has (1) a bag of whole leaf Jane Austen tea from the Jane Austen Centre in Bath, England, (2) a violin ornament in honor of my fictional musicians, Lord Dommick and Lady Alethea, (3) a copy of Prelude for a Lord, and (4) a different hand-knit lace shawl (yes, knit by yours truly). I tried to use knitting patterns that Jane Austen or her contemporaries would have used, although some are more Victorian than Regency. The patterns were all from the knitting pattern book, Victorian Lace Today by Jane Sowerby.

***PLEASE NOTE: For those of you allergic to wool, all the scarves are made with some sort of animal fiber, so be warned that you might react if the scarves touch your skin.

Basket 1:
Black Mohair Diamond Scarf
Click here for the project page on Ravelry
Yarn is 70% Mohair, 30% Silk
Size: 22" x 59"
The diamond pattern was originally published in 1840 but there’s a good chance it was in common use and passed down orally before this. I am not positive if Jane Austen would have knit it, though, because it might have only been in use by knitters in their isolated locales.

Basket 2:
Sweet Peas Shetland Scarf
Click here for the project page on Ravelry
Yarn is 100% wool. The color way is called “Sweet Peas.”
Size: 69" x 21"
This pattern was first printed in 1842, but it is possible it was passed down orally long before this, perhaps by the Shetlanders in Scotland, since the pattern was first printed as a “Shetland pattern” for a shawl.

Basket 3:

Moss Melon Scarf
Click here for the project page on Ravelry
Yarn is 100% Alpaca. The color way is called “Moss.”
Size: 65" x 18"
The “Melon” refers to the center knitting pattern, which is a really pretty and easy pattern. It’s a Victorian pattern, not a Regency one, but I couldn’t resist because it was so beautiful. It was originally published in Weldon’s Practical Knitter in 1890.

Basket 4:
Raisin Scarf
Click here for the project page on Ravelry
Yarn is 70% Merino wool, 30% Silk. The color way is called “Raisin,” and it’s hard to see in the pictures, but it’s an absolutely beautiful dark purple-brown color with deep glossy notes.
Size: 58" x 12"
The pattern is the same as the Black Mohair shawl above, but with a different yarn and color way, it looks very different.

Basket 5:
Rose Garden Scarf
Click here for the project page on Ravelry
Yarn is 100% wool. The color way is “Rose Garden.”
Size: 60" x 16"
This is one of the simplest and possibly one of the oldest scarf patterns among those published, and I am almost positive Jane Austen would have knit a lace scarf like this. Well, if she knit lace scarves. Although I doubt she ever used yarn in a color way like this. :) While the pattern was first published in 1837, it was probably in use and passed down orally long before this. The center is called a faggoting pattern, and it’s both ridiculously easy and very airy and lacy.

To enter:

You must join my Camille Elliot email newsletter to be eligible for this contest (go to CamilleElliot.com and sign up using the form on the right side of the page. Then fill out the entry form below. Be sure to read the rules.

Extra Twitter entries: Get one extra entry per day if you tweet about this giveaway:
PRELUDE FOR A LORD Regency book & goodies giveaway! http://is.gd/7ajcBg @AuthorCamilleE
(Be sure to include @AuthorCamilleE 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/AuthorCamilleElliot/photos/p.510510819083100/510510819083100/?type=1
(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.)

And please “like” my Camille Elliot Facebook page, while you’re there. :)

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Review: Evernight

Evernight by Kristen Callihan

My rating: 4 of 5 stars



This is my first book by this author and I was really impressed with the complexity of the story world. In a way, it reminded me of contemporary urban paranormal romance like Sherrilyn Kenyon, but steampunk, which for me was not a bad thing at all.

The hero, Will, was totally hot and very sympathetic. He had a great backstory that made me like him right away.

The secondary characters were numerous but interesting, and their subplot threads wove neatly into the main storyline. The plot also had a lot of twists that kept me guessing.

My only problem with this book is that the heroine didn't really resonate with me. I'm not sure exactly why, and it might just be me. My recommendation would be to try this book out yourself to see how you like the heroine.

There's a lot of very hot sex which is a little more graphic than, say, a Harlequin Blaze. It didn't bother me, but I thought I ought to mention that for any reader who might want to know.

Overall, an entertaining steampunk novel.



View all my reviews

SUSHI FOR ONE: Original chapter 8

I found this yesterday and had completely forgotten about this. I had originally plotted a different set of dates for Lex in Sushi for One and one of them was Duane the Dweeb. He got combined with/switched to George in a later revision, and I rewrote their date scene, but I found the original scene tucked away in my computer.

For those of you who haven’t read Sushi for One, don’t worry, this won’t ruin the book for you. For those of you who have read it, you’ll hopefully get a chuckle over some jokes I didn’t include in the chapter 8 that’s in the book.

I’m also giving away the last of my author copies of Sushi for One over at Goodreads! Click here to enter (you must belong to Goodreads to enter). Ends September 20th.

All she wanted to do was dump him.

Lex Sakai glanced at the Mark Dacascos look-alike sitting across the table from her, pasted a long-suffering smile on her lips, and felt her lipstick crack right down the center of her bottom lip. She couldn't believe she'd made the effort to dig out her makeup and paint it on for this dork.

"Oh, Duane, you crack me up." She couldn't fake a convincing giggle, but she tittered credibly.

Duane had seemed like such a nice guy when her brother Richard brought him to family dinner a few weeks ago. Well, nice and drop-dead gorgeous with that long, lean face, sharp eyes and rock-hard body.

The end of date number two decided it for her. She shouldn't have answered "Yes" when he asked to kiss her goodnight, but who knew his hands would grow to the size of baseball mitts and play catch with her fanny?

She was rarely at a loss for words. She'd never been "speechless with fury" and had thought it was a silly expression. But every scathing thing her brain thought stuck in her throat and she could only stand there choking while he walked away.

Tonight would be her revenge.

Earlier that evening, she called him. "Duane, I'm running late here at work. Can I meet you at the restaurant?"

"Sure, I made reservations for seven o'clock at Crustaceans. On Santana Row, across from Valley Fair shopping mall?"

He knew she grew up here in the San Francisco bay area, but treated her as if she could get lost in her own house. She swallowed a growl. "Great, I'll meet you there."

As a result, her escape vehicle lay ready in the parking lot.

She had crammed her wallet under the front seat to hide it. Then she put on her game face and prepared to cajole and charm him. When the bill came, she would feign shock that her wallet was missing. "Could you pay for me? I'll pay you back."

Then once they left the building: "Duane, sweetie, kiss off."

It was the perfect plan.

Granted, it wasn't the most honest scheme. Okay, so it was downright dirty.

But his tickling fingers had made her feel filthy. That was a good enough reason for her.

She laughed at Duane's inane joke about fruit flies and ignored the twinge to her conscience. God wouldn't want her to repay evil for evil. To harbor unforgiveness.

To shaft the raunchy lecher for taking liberties. She would relish the look on his face...

He droned on about more fruit fly trivia. She clenched her teeth to keep her jaws from yawning wide.

Wait a minute, did he say what she thought he said?

No, no, no. She hadn't been paying attention. Maybe she was hearing things. There wasn't a sexual innuendo in his comment about a fruit fly's--

Duane flashed a million-dollar smile. A knowing twinkle blipped from his eye.

Lex's jaw plunked open like a big-mouthed bass, but she couldn't make it close. She probably had the same wide, glassy-eyed look as a stuffed fish.

"Excuse me?" She sounded like a toad with pneumonia.

"Don't tell me you've never heard about it? Fruit flies..."

Listening to it the second time made it sound even more lewd. She'd love to connect her pointed-toed mules into a certain part of his anatomy. They were killing her feet anyway.

She managed a strained smile. "How do you know all these things? You must be so smart." Oh, gag me. "Do you read a lot? Have you read the bestseller by that Asian author, Long Duck Ding?"

"No, my sister did..."

Diversionary operation successful.

While he regurgitated his sister's thoughts about the controversial novel, Lex's mind wandered. Maybe she'd just bag the plan and tell him off now. Why waste her whole evening?

She jumped when she felt a rasping movement against her pantyhose-clad calf.

Unless this seafood restaurant happened to own snakes that slithered up guests' legs, Duane was just asking to get decked. With a two-by-four. Or maybe the baseball bat she kept in her trunk.

The waitress' approach saved his life.

"I'll have the crab wonton appetizer, caesar salad, and the garlic roasted crab with garlic noodles."

Hm, at least he had good taste in food. "I'll have the same." Lex handed her oversized menu to the waitress.

"So, Lex." Duane leaned his elbows on the table, causing it to rock toward him. Lex rescued the candle before it tipped.

"So, Duane."

"I'm glad we're having dinner tonight." His smile glowed golden in the romantic lighting.

"Me too."

"This is my favorite restaurant."

"Yeah, I like it too."

"But, you know, this just isn't working."

She did a double-take. "What?"

"You know, us." His bright smile didn't even falter.

No way. This wasn't happening. She began to wish she'd let the candle drip into his lap.

Maybe she misunderstood. "Uh...what do you mean?"

"You're a nice girl and all, but I only asked you out because of your brother."

The room darkened. A blood-red haze blurred his face in her vision. "Did Richard tell you to do this?" She could barely spit the words past her gritted teeth.

"No, but I thought it would make him happy. Seeing as how you're still single."

She spoke as slow and measured as a speech therapist. "And-what-is-that-supposed-to-mean?"

He finally seemed to understand the danger of his situation. "Well...I uh...thought you might be lone--I mean, bored. Want a little fun. A little flirting." He winked. "A few nice dinners."

She couldn't speak.

The idiot kept talking. "Richard always seems to be going out, enjoying himself. Lots of pretty girls, parties. Thought you might like a taste." He beamed at her in friendliness mingled with condescension.

She wondered how she could dispose of his body.

Okay, she already knew Duane's loser status. But the smarter thing to do would have been to wait until after dinner to give her the heave-ho. They hadn't even gotten their appetizers. Now the entire evening would be uncomfortable. Dodo-head.

She could walk out. She had been contemplating it only a moment ago. Breathe fresh air, clear her head, shake the dust from her shoes.

Or she could endure the evening and stick him with the bill. This place didn't exactly have McDonalds' prices.

Escape or revenge?

Freedom or suffering?

Peanut butter sandwiches or garlic roasted crab?

The waitress swept by with a steaming plate. Rich, briny crab, nutty brown butter. Her stomach growled.

"Let's just finish dinner and part friends." Granted, it came out sounding a bit strangled, but Duane smiled and tucked his napkin into his shirt collar.

The crab wontons arrived nestled in a butter lettuce leaf, blonde deep-fried dumplings. As she pierced one with her fork, its bubbled surface flaked pastry onto the stainless steel tines. The outer shell crunched against her teeth while the satiny, cheesy filling melted on her tongue. A ribbon of sweetness from the fresh crab lingered in her mouth.

Duane ate a wonton with relish. "I had a girlfriend who could make these."

Lex bit her tongue. The pain made her start and drop her fork with a clatter against the porcelain plate.

Had no one explained to him that praising past women while on a date was like heckling the enemy football team?

Her next wonton didn't taste quite so divine.

He looked like he would expound on the master-chef girlfriend as soon as he finished chewing. She needed a tangent. "Do you cook?"

"I make a jambalaya that women swoon over..."

Could the man ever say something that didn't involve other females? She listened with half an ear to his masterful feats of culinary genius.

The caesar salad arrived, aromatic with garlic, studded with caramel-colored anchovies. The crisp lettuce popped in her mouth with freshness. The perfect balance for the wontons, and a way to ready her palate for the crab to come. The dressing sizzled with flavor.

Speaking of cooking, she had heard caesar dressing was easy to make. She should learn how, since she ate a salad once a day as part of her fitness program. She wasn't anal about her diet--hence the heart-attack dinner tonight--but she usually ate and exercised to keep herself in prime condition for her competitive volleyball leagues.

Duane also kept himself in great shape. One of only a handful of things they had in common.

He cut an anchovy. "Salads are a great way to lose weight."

That was random. "Um-hm."

"But you need exercise, too. Increase muscle mass, increase metabolism."

Where in the world was he going with this? "How often do you work out?"

"Three times a week minimum, but I usually try to make it more often."

"Do you play sports?"

"I'm taking kickboxing right now. You should try it, it's fun."

She'd seen a boxing match once with her cousin Justin, and the guy getting pummeled looked like a raw tri-tip roast. She knew kickboxing was different, but...no thank you. "Maybe, sure."

"It's great exercise. You'd tone your body a bit."

Uneasiness and suspicion caused a prickling at the back of her eyeballs and a humming along her jaw. "What do you mean?"

He flashed a smile that would charm the knife away from a serial killer. "You'd fit your clothes better and feel great about yourself."

Lex didn't say anything for a long time. A weird emotionless feeling had descended on her. She blinked, wondering what her reaction should be.

Gee, I ran five miles yesterday, and the day before that I did lateral movement drills in the sand. Not enough toning?

You know, I didn't care much for sparring sports, but you're making me rethink that.

My life has been completely changed by your sensitive insight into my weight and self-esteem.

She looked down at herself. She valued comfort over fashion, but she never thought her clothes made her an eyesore. Both her pleated khaki slacks and her tucked-in chambray shirt had ballooned out from her waistband when she sat down. She had believed looser fitting tops hid her salt-cellar boobs, but maybe it hid more than that.

She also knew that her bone structure wasn't exactly delicate. Her wide-enough-to-birth-a-ten-pound-baby hips always made her stand out from her petite, size-zero-jeans cousins.

Wait a minute, what was she doing? She'd let his comments make her doubt herself. If he didn't think any girl over one hundred pounds was "fit," she'd show up puny Mr. Three-times-a-week...

He must have charmed the waitress, too, because she appeared once more and saved him from excruciating humiliation. She whisked away the salad plates and presented the crab with a flourish.

Hot, pungent aromas steamed Lex's face as she leaned over the plate for a long, ecstatic breath. An exotic mix of spices melded with the warm richness of browned butter. The crabs had probably been caught this morning, because only a whiff of brine reached her nose. Her mouth watered.

She lifted the top shell and a sweet tang of the sea seduced her senses. She picked out a forkful of feathery meat and took a bite.

She magnanimously forgave Duane for his unmannerly mouth. He was the reason she sat here in pure bliss.

He nattered on about fat cells, he checked out the mini-skirt on the woman sitting at the next table, and she thought he called her Alicia once.

He could call her Big Bird for all she cared. If she was Hindu she would have reached nirvana.

"Hiya Lex!"

She plummeted straight into hell.

Her cousin Mimi posed beside their table. Her sleek black dress revealed every curve of her tiny, four-feet-eight-and-three-quarter-inch body, while her perky C-cups squished under the low, tight scoop neckline. She flashed perfect white teeth framed by lipstick that screamed "Red Light District."

"How nice to see you here, Lex." Mimi tossed her signature ponytail of shimmering ankle-length hair. Lex had to crush her napkin to keep from grabbing it and yanking.

Mimi promptly ignored her, as usual. She sidled up to Duane. "Hi, I'm Mimi, Lex's cousin."

He seemed dazed by the jiggling mounds waving in his face. "Duane."

Her mesmerizing, half-lidded onyx eyes drew close to him. "You seem familiar. Have we met before?"

Wait a cotton-pickin-minute. What was Mimi doing? If the two-hundred-pound hunk of steroid-built muscle glaring at them from across the room was any indication, Mimi already had a tidy armful. Why go after Lex's measley lamb? She sat forgotten on the other end of the table, feeling like a lump on a couch watching a bad soap opera.

Duane lived up to her abysmal expectations with a delighted smile. "I promise, I wouldn't have forgotten you if we had."

Mimi flashed a mouthful of blinding pearly whites. "Are you sure? I could have sworn I saw you at a naked coed Ultimate Frisbee game."

His answering look smoldered with wicked glee. "Oh, darling, I would only flaunt this body for a private audience."

Lex tried not to gag. A gurgle escaped. After Duane's toning statements, he wasn't exactly on Lex's favorite people list, but she expected at least some semblance of consideration while she remained within reasonable distance. Like three feet away across the dinner table.

Mimi gave her a sly sidelong look. Can't keep your date's attention, Lex?

Heat rushed into Lex's face like her head had been stuck in an oven. Her chest tightened in pain, and her lungs felt punctured. She gasped for a breath that burned down her throat.

Barbie-doll Mimi always made her feel masculine, awkward, and neanderthal-ish. She hunched her shoulders, trying to shrink within her clothes, make herself smaller, more delicate, more feminine.

"Oh!" Mimi's graceful hand touched her shell-shaped ear. "Where's my earring?" She bent to search the floor, affording a generous view down her dress.

Duane paused a moment to stare down at her like a predatory wolf. Then he scooted his chair back and bent to peer at the patterned carpet.

When his head fell at level with hers, Mimi lifted her chin at him. He also tilted toward her.

She smiled a slow, sensual bedroom smile, as if daring him to move the scant inches between them and press his lips to hers.

Duane drooled.

A spasm squeezed through Lex's chest. She felt both ignored and spotlighted at the same time. Shut out by the two lovebirds exchanging heated glances. Laughed at by everyone else in the restaurant who witnessed the poor plain Jane losing her handsome escort in front of her eyes.

Mimi rose languidly to her feet. A business card appeared between two fingers. Where had that come from? Her bosom? As she tilted it toward Duane, he plucked it from her without breaking eye contact.

She dragged a seemingly innocent finger down her neck in an unselfconscious gesture. "It was nice meeting you, Duane."

"The pleasure was all mine."

Mimi's eyes flickered to Lex. "How do you two know each other?"

Oh no. Lex's whole body tensed like an olympic weight lifter attacking the winning barbell. Her heart, which had stopped beating only a moment ago, suddenly slammed into overdrive. Her hands gripped the edge of the table.

Her eyes zapped laserbeams at an oblivious Duane. Her tongue felt thick and swollen. A short croak shot out of her throat, but it was too late.

"Me and Lex? Oh, her brother set us up."

Lex felt like a leaking tire. Breath escaped from her open mouth and her chest cavity deflated.

Mimi knew.

She'd tell everyone.

Lex would never live this down.

She closed her eyes to block out the sight of Mimi's sparkling gaze and surprised, mocking expression. In her world of warm darkness, Mimi's high, trilling voice cut through.

"Oh reeeeeally?" A giggle. "Well next time, I'll be sure to take advantage of Richard's dating service."

Lex's eyes flew open. She needed to salvage her pride behind some white-hot anger. "Stow it, Skipper."

Mimi's smile hardened. The nickname--Barbie-doll's adolescent niece--reminded her of her one sore spot, her child-like height. No amount of push-up bras and scanty clothing could make her look taller than an elementary school student.

Lex tilted her head toward the far table. "Now be a good girl and go home to Papa."

Mimi turned to Duane and leaned her face in close. "I hope I see you sometime?"

He gave a confident movie-star impression. "You just might."

She sashayed away.

Lex regarded Duane with a neutral face and burning eyes. His smile faltered.

Over his shoulder, she spotted the waitress approaching. She snapped up a hand.

"I need a box." Lex glanced at Duane's untouched crab. He'd been too busy spewing out pheromones. "He will, too."

The waitress nodded and hurried away.

Duane blinked in astonishment. Then he reasserted his radiant charm. "You didn't like the crab?"

"I'm not hungry."

He seemed oblivious to her clipped tone. "That's good. For you, lower calorie intake will definitely--"

She couldn't believe him. "Do yourself a favor and please stop talking."

He halted mid-sentence, his mouth open. He flashed more teeth at her. "Ah...Lex, your brother and I are good friends."

Another lowering suspicion shot tension down her spine. "And?"

"You see him pretty often, right?"

She pressed her mouth together and regarded him with a narrowed gaze.

"Would you mind asking him to pay you back for my half of tonight's dinner? I, uh...I'm out of cash..."

© 2014 Camy Tang

Cover for TREACHEROUS INTENT

I just turned in book #6 in my Sonoma series, GONE MISSING, which will be out in May 2015, but I also just got the cover art for book #5, TREACHEROUS INTENT! Isn’t it neat?

In the book, the hero and heroine, Liam and Elisabeth, head to a town called Penny Bay, which I based off of Mendocino, California, one of my favorite towns to visit. Mendocino has a beautiful lighthouse on the edge of the cliff. So of course, I write about it in my book with lots of bad guys with guns. :)

(Also in TREACHEROUS INTENT, readers will meet Joslyn, who has her own story in GONE MISSING next year. :)

TREACHEROUS INTENT releases this December!