Susanne Matthews's Blog, page 11

Tuesday Tales: From the Word FUSSY

[image error]It’s been a difficult couple of weeks. Losing a parent is hard, but Daddy was very proud of my writing ability and that makes sitting down to the stories easier. Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales. This week’s word prompt is FUSSY.

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Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Izzy held up the soft buckskin trousers Guy had carried up to the room along with wool shirts and undergarments. The pants were far bigger than the stable boy’s clothing she’d worn to escape Caen, but with her belly growing larger each day, by the time the babe came, they would probably be skin tight. While she believed her husband’s plan to keep her safe on the journey to Quebec was rather convoluted, this wasn’t the time to argue about it. She’d won her battle; better not to lose the war over a fashion choice. Still, giving in easily wasn’t in her temperament.

“Are you sure this is absolutely necessary? I could wear a nun’s garb. No one would question a nun traveling to Quebec.” She put the trousers on the bed next to the rest of the clothing.

Guy shook his head. “Since we don’t know who the enemy is, if you want to come with us, Izzy, this is the price.” His tone was inflexible. “The garments will keep you warm and disguise you. We’ll travel by open sleigh, spend the night with supporters when we can, but we may also have to sleep with some of Luc’s Huron friends. If the weather gets bad, we’ll have to improvise and build a lean-to. If we cross paths with others, four trappers traveling together, even by sleigh, will raise less questions than three men and a French woman, especially if that woman appears to be a pregnant nun. Such a person should never exist, let alone travel with men, and you know it. This is the only way. Take it, or stay here in Ville Marie with Sophie and my mother.”

Izzy crinkled her nose. That was no choice at all. The garments weren’t new, but they were clean, and while she wasn’t thrilled about the many layers Guy insisted on, she could understand the wisdom of his plan. She wasn’t fussy about it, but she would be with Guy and that was what really mattered.

“Fine, but I may need your assistance at times … when I have to relieve myself,” she said, pushing out her lips in a pout.

Guy grinned. “I can assure you that whatever assistance you may need, I’ll gladly provide. Now, let’s try all this on to make sure that it fits. Your life may depend on it.”

That’s it. See you next week. Don’t forget to check out all the other posts on  Tuesday Tales. 

 

Book of the Month Deal, My Father’s Favorite, On His Watch.

[image error]This has been one of the saddest weeks of my life. I’ve been truly blessed over the years, but I lost my Dad this week. He was the one responsible for my crazy imagination and I will miss him dearly. He was incredibly proud of my writing ability, and of all the books I’ve written,  On His Watch, Book One of the Vengeance Is Mine Series. 

Dad actually read this book twice, once when it was first released by Crimson Romance, and a second time when I revised and released it again last year, claiming I’d made a good book even better. I would like to think I did. So, for the month of October, On His Watch will be 0.99 cents USD, CND, and AUD. You can still read it for free min KU.

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Vengeance is Mine Series Bk 1

The Blurb:

You can’t outrun the past.

On leave from the FBI, Special Agent Jason Spark is enjoying some welcome peace and quiet when he’s called on to help the local sheriff’s department check out a 911 call. Expecting a prank or mis-dial, he unwittingly steps into a horrifying bloodbath straight out of a Hollywood slasher movie, complete with clues scrawled on the wall.

Nikki Hart’s husband and son are killed, but she survives, badly beaten and barely clinging to life in a coma. When she awakens, she doesn’t know her name, recognize her face, or remember anything about herself and her past. Terrified, and unsure of whom to trust, she clings to the memory of the angel who comforted her in her darkest moments.

The investigation turns up a prime suspect: The Butcher, an elusive hired assassin for the Sicilian mob. As the news of Nikki’s recovery spreads, putting her in this ruthless killer’s sights again, Jason will do whatever it takes to protect the woman he’s learning to love.

Nikki’s beginning to believe Jason might be the angel who protected her in her dreams. But when she learns about the secret role he played in the worst day of her life, can she ever forgive him?

Excerpt

Prologue

“Son of a bitch!” Jason Spark cursed for the umpteenth time, running his hand through his hair. How the hell had he gotten himself into this mess? He should’ve spent the night in Sacramento with Anderson, the other agent on vacation this week. They’d flown out together and Jason had offered him a ride. Whoever said it never rained in California must’ve been a tourist.

This early spring storm was one of the worst he’d ever seen. Would’ve been nice if Rick had mentioned it when he’d called him after his plane had landed in Frisco. The weather there had been fine. It was amazing how quickly things had changed.

So far tonight, he’d skirted several fender-benders along Highway 101 as he’d traveled west from the capital city. The deeper into the hills he drove, the nastier it got. As much as he needed a change, he didn’t intend for it to be permanent. The last thing he wanted to do was exchange his gun and badge for a halo and a harp. Who was he kidding? If he was going to trade them in, it would probably be for fire, brimstone, and a pitchfork.

He pulled off the main highway onto Dry Creek Road and had traveled no more than a dozen miles when a flash of lightning illuminated the sky. In the distance, he could see the road blocked by a large tree. The news lately had been full of images of torrential downpours complete with mudslides and flash floods. He couldn’t imagine a worse fate than being buried alive.

He sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was get out of the nice warm cab to pull a tree off the road, but it didn’t look as if he had much choice. The damn thing blocked both lanes.

Tapping his Bluetooth, he contacted his brother.

“Rick, it’s me. It looks like I’m going to be later than I expected,” he said. “Don’t wait dinner for me.”

“How are the roads?”

“Like shit. Would’ve been nice if you’d told me I should’ve requested an ark from the rental place rather than a truck.”

Rick laughed. “It’s just a little rain. Don’t be a wimp.”

“A little rain, my ass. Noah probably didn’t have this much to cope with. Listen, you should know there’s a tree down on Dry Creek Road. I’ll pull it to the side enough to pass, but you should send … What the hell?” He stopped the truck, slammed the gears into park, and turned on his brights, not that they helped much with the way it was coming down. “Rick, it looks like the tree hit a car. I’m going to get out and have a look, but you’d better send someone a.s.a.p.”

“I’ll send a tow truck. Let me know if you’ll need an ambo. Where are you?” he asked, the humor gone from his voice.

“About a dozen miles from the cut-off. I’ll call back when I know more.”

He hung up, praying the driver had abandoned the car and he wouldn’t find anyone inside. Grabbing the flashlight out of his bag on the backseat, he opened the door, only to have it yanked out of his hand. Thanks to the wind, the cold rain soaked through his clothes in an instant. Moving around to the back, he opened the tailgate and reached for the tow rope Rick had asked him to pick up. Talk about a lucky coincidence.

Fighting the wind, he walked around to the front of the truck and secured one end of the rope to the truck’s bumper, holding onto the line as he walked toward the vehicle.

The tree’s lighter top branches had landed on a newer model luxury sedan. He caught glimpses of the car through the branches and saw that the light was on inside and its windows were fogged. There was definitely someone in the car.

Once he slipped under the branches, the rain barely touched him. He pushed his way through the budding foliage until he reached the driver’s side door. He tapped on the window, and jumped back when a woman screamed, and the piercing, shrieking cry of a frightened child erupted from the vehicle.

“Lady, it’s okay.” He yelled to be heard above the wails of the wind and the child. “Open the window. I’m an FBI agent.” Where had he put his damn credentials? “Is anyone injured in there?” The child’s cries continued to echo and actually got louder as the window slowly slid down, proof that the battery was on its last legs.

The first thing he saw was a Padres’ cap under which was the most incredible red hair imaginable. Reaching past her shoulders, it reminded him of fine copper wire. Frightened almond-shaped hazel eyes stared at him out of a pale face, the only color provided by a smattering of freckles across her nose. She reminded him of one of the paintings he’d seen at that gallery he’d visited last month in Washington. Almost too beautiful to be real.

“You’re an answer to prayer,” she said. “If I ever needed an angel it’s now.”

“Believe me, I’m no angel, but I’m here to help.”

“I was beginning to think no one could. I’ve tried to call my husband, but there’s no answer on his cellphone, at the clinic, or at the house. With the children, I didn’t dare leave the car and try to walk in this mess.”

He glanced into the car and saw the sullen boy sitting in the back seat, his hands over his ears trying to block out the sound of his sister’s crying. He could sympathize. Did all little girls cry in that high-pitched voice?

“Mandy, it’s okay, honey,” she said, trying to soothe the child whose face was buried in her teddy bear—at least he thought it was a bear. “This man is going to help us. We’ll be home soon.”

Jason smiled. “Leaving a vehicle in weather like this is never a good idea. My brother’s the sheriff and helps on its way. I called as soon as I saw the tree. Is anyone hurt?” He noted the bruise on her upper arm, but it didn’t seem like a new one.

“We’re fine. Just a little scared.” She smiled.

Sirens in the distance grew louder as they neared, cutting off abruptly.

“Jason? Where are you?” Rick yelled, the sound of leaves rustling and twigs snapping announcing his arrival.

“Over here,” he called.

Rick came out of the foliage, his campaign hat askew, and looked over the front of the car, his eyes widening as he took in the damage.

“Is everyone okay?” he asked. “That’s not going to be easy to fix.”

“Yeah,” he answered. “There’s a woman and two kids inside. They’re cold and scared, but fine otherwise.”

“Paramedics are on the way just in case. Bud needs help tying the tree to pull it off the road. Can you go help him? I’ve got this.”

Jason turned to the woman. Those gray-green eyes imprinted themselves on his soul.

“You’re in good hands,” he said to her. “Your husband will be glad to see you all home safe. He looked at the car, realizing how much worse it could’ve been.

“Thanks.” White teeth bit into her lower lip before a smile brightened her face. “If I ever need rescuing again, I’ll ask for the same hero angel.”

Jason chuckled. “Believe me, as I said, I’m no angel, but you’re welcome. Glad I could help.”

You can find On His Watch on all Amazon book sites.

Don’t miss the rest of the common-themed series.

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Discover more of my books at

https://www.amazon.com/Susanne-Matthews/e/B00DJCKRP4

 

Tuesday Tales: From the Word ORANGE

[image error]Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales, the blogs where I share my work in progress with you. These past few months, we’ve been working on a historical romance suspense called The Price of Courage. Each week, I work with a prompt to create a scene from the on-going story. Writing a story from the seventeenth century makes some words easier to use than others. Today’s word is ORANGE.

Enjoy

“Isabelle, this isn’t simply a case of right or wrong. This is your first winter in the colony. The weather is harsh and unpredictable. Traveling during the day, when the sun shines, can be pleasant, but when the snow falls, it can be a nightmare. I would worry about you catching the grippe or coming down with a fever.”

“If I were going to get sick, I would no matter where I was. And would you be immune to such a complaint? No. I’m not deaf. I’ve heard the stories of coureurs de bois lost in the woods in a blizzard, disoriented by the tempest, their bodies not located until spring.”

“I won’t be alone. Luc is an experienced guide. He’s done this before,” he argued, but he could see himself losing ground.

“But Henri isn’t. How would your mother feel if she lost her husband again? When the weather is bad, les indiens congregate inside their homes. If you and Luc can settle in a longhouse and sup on delicious orange pumpkin soup, what makes you think I can’t?” I would need suitable clothes, but I’m not helpless and refuse to let you treat me that way.” She put her arms around his neck, holding him tightly to her. “You can keep me warm bundled in furs in front of a friendly fire, or we can stop and stay with those seigneurs loyal to us.” She reached out to touch his arm. “Guy. I understand your need to get to Quebec and question the men supporting Des courts, but just as I am your greatest treasure, so are you mine.” She stood on tiptoe and brushed her lips against his. “I refuse to face the future without you with us.”

Powerless against her charms, Guy put his arms around her and pulled her to him, his mouth assuming control of the kiss. His tongue licked her lips and she opened to him, her response as passion-filled as his. Picking her up, he carried her to the bed, his mouth never leaving hers.

Setting her down, he shook his head. “Woman, your logic amazes me. While this is the last thing I want, I can’t find an argument against what you’ve said. But I’m not giving in yet, my little minx. I’ll sleep on this and discuss it with Luc and Henri in the morning. Now, allow me to keep you warm this night.”

That’s it. See you next week. Don’t forget to check out all the other posts on  Tuesday Tales. 

Cover Reveal: The White Dahlia, The Harvester Files, Book Four

They say when life gives you lemons, you should make lemonade. Right now, the lemons in my life are so sour, there wouldn’t be enough sugar in the world to make that lemonade drinkable.  Amidst the chaos, I search for normalcy and pray that thing will improve.

But enough of that. It’s in the works, and while I don’t have an exact date for release, I do have a nice new cover to share with you. Thank you Melinda De Ross, for coming through as always.

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Here is the temporary blurb:

Detective Beth Reynolds was a small part of the original Harvester Taskforce, but once the case was closed, her fear that it wasn’t over wouldn’t leave her. Transferring to New York City,  she tries to forget the horror, until a badly disfigured body shows up in an alley, and plunges her back into the Harvester’s gory world.

Al Foster left St. Louis when his ex-wife vanished and joined the NYPD’s Missing Persons’ Squad, hoping to find her. As he and Beth work together, they discover the body in the alley may not be the only one. There’s a new Harvester in town, and organs aren’t the only thing he’s harvesting.

Many of the Chosen are dead, but three survived. Now, one of them plans to pick up where his father left off.  Can Al, Beth, and the reunited Harvester Taskforce  catch  and stop him before Beth becomes his latest target?

And, Rum Roll!!!!

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Don’t forget to check out the other Harvester Files available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited.

https://www.amazon.com/Susanne-Matthews/e/B00DJCKRP4/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

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Tuesday Tales: From the word LAUGHTER

[image error]Good morning. Well, it’s officially autumn, although we’ve had plenty of cooler days already in September. As much as I hate to admit it, the early days of fall have always been my favorites. I love the riot of colors in the trees as they prepare to go out in a blaze of glory once more, preparing for the cold winter to come.

I continue with The Price of Courage. Todau’s word is LAUGHTER

Enjoy!

Guy frowned. Why did she have to be so perceptive? The absence of a blood trail had bothered him, but he’d assumed the new snow had obscured it. If Anselme had been moved by a wagon or sleigh…

“That thought has crossed my mind. If that’s what happened, and I’m inclined to agree it makes more sense than having the man drag himself that far, then the conspiracy is worse than I expected, with God alone knowing how many are involved. Why did no one see anything? There are men constantly coming and going from that tavern.”

“Because whatever they saw was what they thought it was. He could’ve been brought there with a delivery of game. If you don’t know who the enemy is, how can you be sure I would be safe in the settlement?”

He chuckled. She’d made his argument for him.

“Because I do know whom I’m leaving here with you. This house is secure. There are people here to protect you while I’m gone.” He set the glass down, and walked over to her. “I need you to do this for me, Izzy. I can’t do what I must do if I’m worrying about your well-being. Henri and Luc will travel with me. We’ll use snowshoes and skis—much easier to keep to the trees and hide our tracks. They’ll watch my back. There are four men here to guard the inn, men I’m entrusting my greatest treasure to. Maman has promised not to take in strangers while we’re gone., You and our child will be as safe as I can possibly make you.”

Izzy burst out laughing, but her laughter was tinged with bitterness.

“Not take in strangers? How will that help when the enemy could be someone we already know? Don’t you see? You may well be playing right into their hands. The safety of the colony weighs heavily on you as does mine, but think a moment. Those who have the most to gain from causing a new war aren’t sitting in the salons of France. They’re right here in the colony, wearing the tuques and ceintures flèchées of the voyageurs. They won’t be traveling in sleighs but in the woods, just as you propose, able to set a trap for you at will. If I were to go with you, they might be fooled into thinking you aren’t onto them. You know I’m right. Admit it.”

That’s it. See you next week. Don’t forget to check out all the other posts on  Tuesday Tales. 

Friday’s Featured Author: Effrosyni Moschoudi

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Welcome to Friday’s Featured Author, Effrosyni Moschoudi . Today, she shares with us her Raven Witch of Corfu series.

About the books:

Lizzie arrives on the idyllic Greek island of Corfu with a heavy heart. Her purpose is to claim her brother back from an evil witch who had snatched him before her very eyes during her last holiday on the island. When she sees her brother again, Lizzie is shocked. The witch has tricked her… Falling in love with a handsome local complicates her life even further…

Excerpt:

[image error]Lizzie stopped short when she arrived at the familiar clearing. Thick clumps of thorny bushes lined the precipice to her left, but she wasn’t in the mood to go there and enjoy the view of the bay. Instead, her eyes were pinned on the cave in the rock face across from her. Its entrance was unobstructed, gaping open like a hungry mouth, expectant, unquenchable.

Letting out a huge sigh of relief, she looked all around her. No one was about, just she, alone in the serenity. All she could hear was the buzzing of bees, the tweeting of birds and the long-drawn cries of a raven that swooped and circled overhead.

Slowly, she walked up to the cave and stood at the entrance, gazing at the dark abyss inside. Because of the strong sunshine, she couldn’t make out anything. She inched inside a couple of steps, just enough so she could inspect the space a little better.

After a few moments, she still couldn’t see much. She had started to contemplate venturing a few more steps inside, to make sure the spring was still there, when something peculiar happened.

A conspiracy of ravens arrived from seemingly nowhere, circling low over her head and cawing at an ear-piercing volume. Instinctively, Lizzie crouched over and placed her arms over her face, howling with distress. Somehow, they had flown into the cave, straight at her. How is that even possible? Why are they doing that?

Seeing that they wouldn’t go away, she began to panic and brought an elbow over her eyes, raising the other to wave it in mid-air while making shooing sounds. ‘Get away! Go!’ she commanded a few times, her voice sounding frail and desperate in her own ears.

In those moments, she could hear an eerie rush of wind as the wings of the ravens flapped over her head. Every now and then, she would feel the softness of feathers brush against her waving hand, her arms and shoulders.

Seeing that the ravens didn’t seem to be deterred, she dashed out of the cave and headed for the olive grove, all the while keeping her head low and protecting her face with her arms. As she made her way, her heart thumping in her chest, she felt thankful that the ravens, somehow, weren’t hurting her with their beaks and claws.

The very thought of the possibility made the blood chill in her veins, but at the same time, she wondered… Do ravens attack humans? They don’t, do they?

Stumbling blindly ahead, she made it back to the grove and hurried under the dense canopy. A moment later, she brought her arms down, eyes widening, when she realized the ravens hadn’t followed her there. Instead, they had flown high and away in seconds, it seemed. And now, they had disappeared from sight altogether, the last echoes of their shrill cries fading in the distance.

Lizzie stood straight again and threw her gaze at the cave across the clearing. Right then, the ravens returned to stand before the cave, a glistening mass of blackness before the entrance, laid out like a carpet that rustled and breathed. Other ravens stood in small groups on the rock face over the gaping hole, turning their heads this way and that, their eyes on her as if willing her to take a step closer.

[image error]ON SALE!

Discounted from $2.99 to $0.99. Offer valid in the US/UK September 20-22.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B07PYPCQ42

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07PYPCQ42

About the Author:

[image error]Effrosyni Moschoudi was born and raised in Athens, Greece. As a child, she loved to sit alone in her garden scribbling rhymes about flowers, butterflies and ants. Today, she writes books for the romantic at heart. She lives in a quaint seaside town near Athens with her husband Andy. Her mind forever drifts to her beloved island of Corfu.

Her debut novel, The Necklace of Goddess Athena, has won a silver medal in the 2017 book awards of Readers’ Favorite. The Ebb, her romance set in Corfu that’s inspired from her summers there in the 1980s, is an ABNA Q-Finalist.

Effrosyni is a member of the writer’s groups eNovel Authors at Work and ASMSG.  Her novels are Amazon bestsellers, having hit #1 several times, and are available in kindle and paperback format.

Go here to grab FREE books by this author: http://effrosyniwrites.com/free-stuff/

Effrosyni’s website and blog: http://effrosyniwrites.com

Visit her Amazon page: http://www.amazon.com/author/effrosyni

Connect with the author:

https://www.facebook.com/authoreffrosyni

http://www.twitter.com/frostiemoss

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7362780.Effrosyni_Moschoudi

http://www.pinterest.com/efrosinimoschou/

https://www.instagram.com/effrosynimoschoudi/

 

Tuesday Tales: From a Picture

[image error]Welcome back to Tuesday Tales, the blog post that keeps you up to date on one of this authors current works in progress. Each week I write the new scene from a specific prompt. Sometimes it’s a word, but once a month, we write from a picture.

This is Picture Prompt Week, and here’s the picture I chose:

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Long before  ready-made clothing became available, mothers-to-be and other close family members spent hours and days assembling a baby’s layette. The layette consists of all of the clothing and and accessories necessary for a newborn baby. This included nightgowns, blankets, hats, sweaters, and of course, diapers.  The garments themselves were hand made, sometimes if the family was wealthy, from new clothe, but most of the time, older clothing  was re-purposed for the task. A woolen sweater might be taken apart and the wool rolled into balls once more. Spinning, weaving, sewing, knitting and embroidery would take up the time leftover from cooking and cleaning. We have no idea how easy we have it today!

Here’s today’s scene. Enjoy!

Izzy stopped the motion of the swinging chair, tilted it to the back, and stood, the ropes falling away behind her. She carried the bonnet to the small trunk where she’d stored the rest of the layette. The quilt with the embroidered maple leaves lay in the cradle Henri had made for her.

“And did the good sergeant explain why he hadn’t been with Roger?”

Guy pursed his lips. He’d hoped to avoid this topic for now.

“Unfortunately, no. The men located him beside a utility shed at the edge of the river behind Aux Écus Dorés.”

Izzy’s eyes grew wide. “My God, he’s dead?”

“Yes.” Guy reached for the glass of brandy on the small table he used for a desk. “The sergeant must’ve been there when the barracks  were attacked. I knew and trusted the man—so did Pierre. He was doing his duty, just as he should’ve.” He emptied the brandy in his glass, letting it burn a trail down his angry throat. “Anselme had two arrows in him, one in his shoulder, another in his back. The Lord alone knows how he managed to escape. That’s why you need to stay here where it’s safe, Izzy—”

“Safe?” she cried. “Two men are killed in the settlement and you still claim it’s safe? I assume Sergeant Raymond died from his wounds?”

He nodded. Safe might not be the best words to use as she’d pointed out. “The arrow embedded in his back would’ve been enough to kill him. We saw the blood on the floor in the office and assumed it was all Roger’s.”

“Has it occurred to you that he may not have left the barracks under his own power, that he was moved to trick you into believing he was responsible for this?”

That’s it. See you next week. Don’t forget to check out all the other posts on  Tuesday Tales. 

Tuesday Tales: From the Word Evil

[image error]Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales, the blog where authors share their works in progress with you. Each week, we use a word or picture prompt in our scenes. Sometimes those prompts may make it into the finished product, while at other times, they’ll be edited out.  Today’s word prompt is EVIL.

Last week, I mentioned we would be leaving France along with Murielle, but while she sails south to Martinique, we return to the cold and snow of New France.  Enjoy.

New Year’s Eve

Ville-Marie, New France

All signs of the holiday season at the inn had vanished the day after Roger’s funeral, replaced by the black of a household in mourning. Sophie might not have planned to marry the young soldier, but she’d cared deeply for him, the brother she’d never had. As much as he hated to admit it, Guy knew nothing he could say or do would lift the pall that had fallen over not only the inn but the settlement.

The wind driven snow slammed against the window, but the fire in the bedroom hearth warmed the room nicely. Izzy sat in her  swing chair knitting. As much as he tried to hide his concerns and fears from her, his wife knew him all too well. After three lessons in firing her arquebus, she’d decided that she was as proficient as any of the men at the inn and had declared it her duty to remain by his side. Convincing her otherwise wasn’t going to be easy.

“Izzy,” Guy rubbed his temples where the headache he’d been nursing all day seemed to have intensified. Bad news had a habit of doing that. He raised the cup of willow bark tea his mother had given him and sipped the bitter brew. Much as he wanted to pace, to do so would show her how worried he was. “This argument is pointless. We’d agreed you wouldn’t travel with me after Christmas.”

“That was before Roger was murdered by evil, treacherous men right under our noses,” she argued, putting down her knitting and folding her arms over her slight stomach.

“Be that as it may, traveling at this time of year, is too hard for a woman in your condition.” He winced. Even to his own ears, his words sounded patronizing.

“My lord, since when have I shown myself to be some simpering miss? The babe isn’t due until  spring and it’s barely winter. The native women accompany their men all year long. Why Michelle went out to help her husband harvest the wheat mere hours after she’d given birth. I’m certainly strong enough to sit in a sleigh under a heavy fur throw.” She propelled herself, the swing moving faster in her agitation. “Whoever killed Roger is still out there. What about the missing soldier?” Her cheeks burned an angry red.

“Anselme Raymond has been found.”

That’s it. See you next week. Don’t forget to check out all the other posts on  Tuesday Tales. 

New Feature! Book of the Month: September, Desert Deception

Welcome to September, 2019. I’ve decided to start my own Book of the Month Club. Each month, I intend to offer one of my e-books for .99 cents. As always, any of the books offered will be available through Kindle Unlimited. To kick off the program, I’m offering one of my romantic suspense novels, Desert Deception. The price was reduced this morning, so it may not be official with Amazon yet. Don’t have a KINDLE? Not a problem. You can download Amazon’s Kindle app for free and read anywhere–your phone, your tablet, your computer or laptop! The icon is on the Amazon page featuring the book!

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Romance Suspense

Seeing is believing, or is it?

When high-powered Santa Fe attorney Casey Stevens reluctantly returns to Fortune for Gold Rush Days, she is drawn to Cole Walker Junior, but he is no longer the shy, quiet boy she recalls. Then again, Cole isn’t the only one who has changed. The town may be celebrating its past, but someone is trying to destroy its future. A hit and run accident leaves Fortune’s only lawyer in a coma, forcing Casey to choose between helping innocent people and running away once more. Can she face the demons of her past or will they destroy her this time?

Cole Warner has a secret identity, one he’s determined to protect at all costs. The police officer, volunteer firefighter, and part-time store owner, is also popular western novelist, CJ Coleson, who uses Fortune and its people as the inspiration for his books. Having Casey walk into his life turns it upside down. When someone starts using the murders in Cole’s books to stage a killing spree of their own, keeping his secret may be too costly, but admitting the truth could ruin any chance they have for a happily ever after.

As the bodies pile up and the buildings burn down, Casey and Cole have to work together to stop a madman with gold fever before more people die. The answer lies on Superstition Mountain or is it all a desert deception? Here’s a free preview to interest you!

Tuesday Tales:From the word UNHAPPY

[image error]Welcome back to Tuesday Tales., the weekly blog that lets you inside our creative process. This week, our word is UNHAPPY, and the scenes are 400 words long. I’m a touch over because this is the last scene with Murielle and the children as next week, we return to New France and those we left behind while we were with Murielle, catching up on her part in this story. Don’t despair, Murielle and the children will be back soon.

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Today is a special day for my husband and me. It’s our 48th wedding anniversary. We met 50 years ago at university. So hard to believe so many years have passed.

Someone once asked me what the difference is between a romance and a love story. Romance I believe can be the start of a love story, but it isn’t everything, just as sex can’t be. Both are important, but if yours is a love story, life happens. As you age, your relationship changes and grows into something wonderful that carries you along for a whirlwind ride through life. Children, careers, happy days, sad days, all impact your lives. You learn the value of listening and compromise. In the end, that love perseveres and overcomes all obstacles.  My husband is my best friend. I cherish each and every day we have together and pray God grants us many more.

Now, for the reason you’re here. Back to the story. Enjoy.

“Will ‘Tin and Mama be there?” Melda asked.

“I’m sorry, bébé,” she said, forcing the tears back, trying to hide how heartbroken and unhappy she was for their sakes. “Mama and Martin have gone to heaven with the others to be with Baby Jesus, remember? They left you here with me so that I wouldn’t be sad.”

“Is Pepère coming?” she asked, looking over at him, her dimpled smile teasing at her face.

“Not right now, crotte, but maybe in a few years. I have to take care of things here a while longer. Mamie will take good care of you, and I know you’ll be good children for her. Now, I want you all to use the privy before you get dressed. Cosette has some sweets for you to take on your journey, and the carriage is waiting. You’re going on a great, wonderful adventure. I’ll miss you, but when I see you again, you can tell me all about it.”

Melda stood, held up her little arms, and puckered her lips. Marc did the same.

Nicholas picked up the siblings, kissed their cheeks, and then set them down.

Murielle fought not to cry, not to let her broken heart show.

He turned to the servant girl now a cherished member of the small family. “Espé, I know you’ll be the big sister they all need and a help to Murielle. You’ll miss your own family here in France, one you can never mention to others, but perhaps, this one will replace it for you. God willing, someday we’ll all be together again.”

The young girl nodded, collected her drawing materials and then turned to help the other two get ready as if she’d done it every day. She didn’t speak but the younger two understood what she wanted. Each putting a small hand in hers, they followed her to the lavatory.

“We’ll be fine,” Murielle said, placing the small leather pouch Talon had given her inside the satchel her uncle had provided. Inside the pouch were her letters of introduction one—for the governor of Martinique, one that would pave the way fro her trip to new France next spring, another for the current intendant of New France, and a third for Guy, one which she promised to deliver as soon as she got to the colony. All three letters bore Talon’s seal.

After relieving herself, she joined her children in the enclosed carriage.

That’s it. See you next week. Don’t forget to check out all the other posts on  Tuesday Tales.