Marta Perry's Blog, page 11

END OF SUMMER

What says 'the end of summer' to you? When I was a child, summer's end came when my mother took me shopping for a new pencil box (yes, I know I'm revealing how old I am) and a new pair of school shoes. There was also the ritual trying on of the school clothes, to see what could last another year, what needed the hem let down, and what would have to be replaced. My mother was both thrifty and a good seamtress, so nothing was discarded if it could possibly be made to last.

School shopping had changed by the time my children were in school. Then it was the hunt for the clothes that were 'in' and also acceptable to my standards. But that shopping was still the marker for summer's end, and although the kids grumbled about school starting too soon, I knew they were secretly ready to get back into the normal routine.

Now I don't have kids at home, and while I love getting a back-to-school gift for each of my grandkids, it's not quite the same landmark. I watch the yellow school bus go by our house without stopping and start up the hill toward the elementary school with a slight pang.

At this stage of my life, summer's end has come to be marked more by the state of the garden. When I start canning spaghetti sauce, giving away eggplant, and roasting green peppers, I know that no matter how warm it still is, fall is approaching inevitably. The sumacs along the roadside hold their flame-colored plumes high, and in the cornfields the stalks are high enough for a child or adult to get lost in. Mist hugs the valley when I walk out to the mailbox in the morning, and the first few falling leaves skitter across the road.


Don't get me wrong--I love fall. It might be my favorite season, especially here in our Pennsylvania valley, where the ridges will be lit by color in another month. But there's something a bit melancholy about fall, as well. Maybe that's a hangover from childhood, when it seemed the beginning of school meant an end to freedom. Or maybe it's just the reminder of another year slipping past, something that occurs more quickly as one gets older.

An elderly friend told me once, as she approached the end of her battle with illness, that she'd been thinking a lot of what Heaven would be like when she arrived. Her conclusion was that it would be like the hills in autumn, with every growing thing announcing its transition to another phase of life in a final blast of triumphant color.

Happy fall, everyone. Enjoy it.

Summer Holiday

I know it's been some time since I've posted, but it's been a very busy few weeks! I attended the Romance Writers of America conference in Anaheim, California, (awesome) and then returned to a couple of days to recover before the first two of my grandkids arrived for their summer visit with Grammy and Grandpa.

Our daughter flew up with the two girls, ten and seven, and then flew back the same day, and the two of them felt very grown-up about the whole experience! The next day two more grandkids arrived, so we had the four cousins for almost a week. They had such a great time, and so did we. No writing was accomplished around here, but it was probably very good for me to switch into Grammy mode for a while. They played in the creek, went to the local amusement park, spent a morning at the Children's Museum, caught crayfish and minnows, picked tomatoes, and just generally had a ball without any parents around.

The next week the parents arrived, along with the other two grandkids from Florida, so things really kicked into high gear! I tried to spent a little special time with each of them, but it's pretty hard with six kids ranging in age from four to twelve. The two boys are at the top and the bottom, and it was so nice to see how they bonded despite the difference in their ages.

Our campfire down by the creek is always a highlight of the week for the kids. I think I've had enough s'mores to last me until next year!

I hope your summer holiday has brought you some joyous time with family, as well.

Blessings,
Marta Perry

On Tuesday, I'll be leaving for the Romance Writers of Am...

On Tuesday, I'll be leaving for the Romance Writers of America's annual conference. I try to attend every year, and since the event moves around the country, sometimes it's a long trip for me. This year it's very loooong, because the conference is in Anaheim, California, quite a stretch from central Pennsylvania. But it's well worth it, even if I arrive exhausted, because I'm looking forward to seeing lots of old friends, meeting with my agent and my editors, and participating in workshops where I always learn something new.

One of the highlights of the conference is always the Literacy Autographing, which will be held this year in the Anaheim Convention Center on Wednesday, July 25th, from 5:00 to 8:00 p.m. Every year this event gets better and better. Hundreds of authors will be there, and we hope thousands of fans. The publishers donate copies of the authors' books, the authors sign and sell them, and every cent that's made is given to promote the cause of adult literacy in this country.

I can't tell you how moving some of the stories are of people who've been helped by literacy volunteers across the country. As an organization of writers, we're especially aware of the tremendous need, and since the Literacy Event began, we've raised hundreds of thousands of dollars. Each year, the money is split between a national literacy organization and one or two local programs in the host city, so this year folks in Anaheim and the Orange County area will benefit.

If you happen to live in that area, or know someone who does, I hope you'll give us your support. If not, you might want to give some thought to the literacy volunteers in your own community. They make it possible for people to enjoy a pleasure many of us take for granted--the ability to escape into the world of books.

Happy Reading!

DARK CROSSINGS available now!

Last week I posted an article about the writing of Dark Crossings, the Amish suspense anthology that's currently out from HQN Books. Today I thought you might like to read the opening of Fallen in Plain Sight, my novella in Dark Crossings. Our three stories are connected through the heroines, good friends living in Amish communities in different states, who communicate through Round Robin letters, a popular way for Amish friends to stay in touch.


FALLEN IN PLAIN SIGHT
“If you are not careful, Sarah Elizabeth Weaver, you will end up a maidal, as lonely and sad as that old man you work for.” Mamm had what she obviously considered the last word as she drew the buggy to a halt by the Strickland house.
“Mamm…” Sarah hesitated, ready to jump down, but not wanting to leave her mother for the day with harsh words between them. “I know you want to see me married, with a home and family of my own. But I’m just not ready.”
Her mother shook her head, a mix of sorrow and exasperation on her face. “When will you be ready? Independence is all very gut, but having someone of your own is better, that’s certain sure. Ach, well, go on to work.” She waved her hand toward the huge old Victorian house, its gingerbread trim and fancy touches a far cry from a simple Amish farmhouse. “But think on it. All of your friends are starting families already.”
“I will, Mamm.” She slid down. Easier to say that than to argue over a subject on which they’d never agree.
Anyway, not all of her friends were married. She still had two dear friends, Abby and Lena, who weren’t, but since they lived far apart, their only connection was the Round Robin letters they sent from one to the other. They understood, even if Mamm didn’t.
But she couldn’t take comfort in Abby’s unmarried state much longer. The long-awaited letter she’d received yesterday from Abby had contained surprising news. Abby would soon wed Ben Kline. They’d been brought together at last after Ben’s return from the Englisch world. That news from Abby had probably been what started Mamm on her current train of thought about marriage. 
Sarah waved as Mamm clicked to Bell and the buggy moved onto Springville’s main street. Mamm had stopped saying it, but they both knew who she had in mind for a son-in-law. Mamm and Jacob’s mother had been planning their marriage since the two of them were in their cradles.
But if they’d been serious about marrying the two of them off to each other, they’d have been better not bringing her and Jacob up so close that they were like brother and sister. Jacob was her best friend and the brother she’d never had, but to think of falling in love with him was laughable. Why couldn’t Mamm see that?
Sarah unlocked the door into the back hall off the kitchen, pausing there to hang up her black bonnet and sweater and straighten the apron that matched the deep green of her dress. Getting dressed for work was simplicity itself when you were Amish—she’d had a choice between green, blue, and purple dresses, all cut exactly the same.
Exactly the same, just like all of her working days. She’d been taking care of the house for elderly Englisher Richard Strickland for over three years, and nothing ever changed, because that was how he liked it. Probably that was partly due to his bad eyesight. He didn’t want to trip on anything that had been moved.
She went on into the kitchen, reaching to the kitchen table automatically to pick up the breakfast dishes. And stopped. The table was bare, except for the napkin holder and salt and pepper shakers which always sat in the center.
Every day she let herself in the back door at eight-thirty, and every day she found Mr. Strickland’s breakfast dishes on the table. Her employer himself would be in the sunroom on the side of the house, enjoying a second cup of coffee while he listened to the news. But the coffeemaker was cold, the sink was empty and shining, and no sound broke the stillness of the old house.
A chill spread through her. Sarah spun, moving quickly toward the front of the house. Mr. Strickland must be ill…nothing else would cause him to change the immutable habits of a lifetime. She hurried through the hallway, thoughts racing faster than her feet—call Mr. Strickland’s doctor, or the rescue squad if it looked very serious, they could be here faster and—
She skidded to a stop a few feet from the bottom of the stairs. Neither the doctor nor the rescue squad would be of help. Richard Strickland lay tumbled on the polished stairs, one hand reaching the tiled floor of the hall. Sarah didn’t need to touch him to know he was dead.

The following article about my July release, DARK CROSSIN...

The following article about my July release, DARK CROSSINGS, appeared in The Big Thrill, the newsletter of the International Thriller Writers Association.

Dark Crossings by Karen Harper, Marta Perry and Patricia Davids By ITW on June 30, 2012 DARK CROSSINGS is an anthology of three novellas by authors who write novels set in Amish country. THE COVERED BRIDGE by Karen Harper, FALLEN IN PLAIN SIGHT by Marta Perry and OUTSIDE THE CIRCLE by Patricia Davids each examine the culture clash between Amish life and the outside world through the dangers faced by the stories’ heroines. Amish life may look idyllic but the challenges are everpresent, surprising and possibly fatal.

The Big Thrill recently caught up with the three authors whose novellas comprise the anthology DARK CROSSINGS. These novellas are romantic suspenses which take place in Amish country. In this interview, Karen Harper, Marta Perry and Patricia Davids answer questions about their book and their love for writing Amish thrillers.

Please tell us briefly about your novellas.

Karen Harper: In THE COVERED BRIDGE when the shunned Benjamin Kline returns to Amish country after several years away, Abigail Baughman knows he is still forbidden to her. But he lives right across the old covered bridge and someone is watching and harassing her. She has no one nearby but Ben to help, but, despite her years of long-suppressed love for him, she’s not sure she can trust him. As dangers escalate and become deadly, they are forced to solve a mystery to stay alive.

Marta: In FALLEN IN PLAIN SIGHT, Sarah Weaver’s peaceful life is turned upside-down when she arrives at the home of her Englischer employer to find the elderly man lying dead at the foot of the stairs. Everyone assumes it’s an accident, but Sarah sees some details that don’t quite fit and confides in her childhood friend, Jacob Mast. When a series of supposed accidents befall Sarah, it begins to look as if she may be right. Danger makes Sarah and Jacob see each other differently, but it also puts both their faith and their newfound love to the ultimate test. FALLEN IN PLAIN SIGHT is set in the same Lancaster County world as my full-length series: MURDER IN PLAIN SIGHT, VANISH IN PLAIN SIGHT, and DANGER IN PLAIN SIGHT.

Patricia: In OUTSIDE THE CIRCLE, Isaac Bowman, an Amish widower, moves to a new community in the hope that the change will heal his daughter. Ruby has been mute since she witnessed the tragic death of her mother. Schoolteacher Lena Troyer is drawn to the sad child and her handsome father, but she isn’t sure she can trust Isaac. Someone is poaching deer in their woods and the illegal activity is threatening the peace of their small community. Is it just a coincidence that the poaching began when Isaac arrived?

Why do you think modern readers are so intrigued by the Amish?

Karen: The more fast-paced and tech-run our lives become, the “mystery” of how the Amish continue to live in their slow-paced, faith-filled world intrigues us. Perhaps it’s a bit of our nostalgia for the early day of agrarian America —those beautiful barns, the horses and buggies and “pioneer days” dress. Also, the fact that the Plain People live by cooperation and not competition looks alluring to those of us in the rush-rush, me-me world.

Marta Perry: Modern readers tend to live hectic lives, with our wonderful electronic gadgets making it difficult if not impossible to escape constant demands on both our time and our emotions. And very few readers have family living nearby to help in time of need. I think readers enjoy escaping into the lives of people who manage to live in the world but not of the world, doing without many things we moderns think essential but gaining the strength and support of family and a caring church community.

Patricia: I’m not sure anyone has the answer to this question because I hear it all the time. I think modern readers are intrigued by the idea that a vast number of people can live inside our society and yet not be caught up in the morass of modern life. I think we envy the strength of the Amish in resisting the lure of electricity in the home, televisions, cars and all the distractions we face daily. I believe a lot of the popularity of the genre has to do with the fact that we long for a simpler time, for close-knit families and deeper faith.

Why do the Amish culture and Amish setting work well for suspense/thriller material?

Karen: The rural isolation of the Amish allows some very scary set ups. Of course, their mistrust of law enforcement and lawyers, the lack of phones in their homes, the longer buggy times to get help if they need it also contribute to suspense. Kerosene lanterns at night make for a much better thriller scene that would electric lights. From their days of persecution in Europe , these people have carried an isolationist mentality from “the world.” (However, they do make great neighbors.) One more thing: Not everyone loves the Amish. There are hate crimes against them. Some “moderns” think they are “easy pickings.” The first novel in my current Amish suspense trilogy, FALL FROM PRIDE, deals with a series of Ohio barn arsons, which I took from old newspaper stories in Pennsylvania . The Amish have a saying, “It’s not all cakes and pies.” They too, have their troubles, as anyone looking at today’s headlines knows.

Marta: There’s such an interesting contrast between the fear and danger of a suspense novel and the peaceful, non-violent lives of the Amish, isn’t there? The fact that the Amish are strictly non-violent creates an intriguing situation when they are confronted with danger, and the very setting of their lives makes them both more vulnerable and less able to turn to authorities for a solution.

Patricia: The Amish setting works well for suspense and thriller material because the Amish seldom involve outside authorities in their problems. They don’t talk to “the English” as they call us. This leads to a culture of secrecy. Victims of crimes are expected to forgive and not seek retribution or justice. Evil flourishes when no light shines upon it. The stark contrast between the simple goodness the Amish portray and that evil makes excellent fodder for books and movies.

You also write full-length novels. Is there a different mindset or technique you use when writing shorter novella form? Which is more challenging for you, the novella or novel length?

Karen: Writing novellas is a nice break from the longer books, like a little vacation. The form I really have trouble with is the short story. However, my other trial is that each time I write a full-length novel, about half way through I panic, thinking I don’t have enough material/plot for a full-length book. This is entirely ridiculous since I have written 50 full-length novels since 1982, and things always turn out well. As much as I love to write, what I call the muddle of the book—the middle of a full-length novel—always scares me. I think most authors have some bugaboo or eccentricity when they write.

Marta: I find the novella more difficult to write, because my mind seems hard-wired to produce ideas and pacing suitable to a 400-page novel! I must constantly pare down the cast and simplify the plot in order to make a novella work, but while it’s a challenge, it’s also great fun!

Patricia: Writing OUTSIDE THE CIRCLE was very challenging for me. Not only was it my first novella, it was the first book I wrote after the death of my husband. The short word count requirement led me to write a book with less dialogue. That was the only part of my normal process that I had to change. I don’t mind writing short works. I’d do it again, but I think I’d rather write novel length stories.

***** For more information about these authors’ full-length books and more about how they write, visit their websites. Karen’s is www.KarenHarperAuthor.com. Marta’s is www.martaperry.com. Patricia’s is www.patriciadavids.com.

New Release: HER SURPRISE SISTER

HER SURPRISE SISTER, my latest Love Inspired book, will be in stores next week. This is the first book in the Texas Twins continuity series, with a new book in the series coming out each month from a different author. All the stories focus on a Texas family and two sets of twins who were separated at an early age and brought up without knowledge of each other. What would you think if you suddenly discovered you had an identical twin?

Here's the opening of my book:

HER SURPRISE SISTER
By Marta Perry

Chapter One

What could she possibly say to a father who had walked out of her life when she was an infant? Hi, Dad, it’s me, Violet?
Violet Colby’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. What was she doing miles from home in Fort Worth, trying to follow an almost non-existent clue to her birth father?
A sleek sports car cut in front of her SUV, horn blaring. Shaken, Violet flipped on the turn signal and pulled into the right lane. City traffic had frazzled whatever nerves she had left.
A coffee shop sign ahead beckoned to her. That was what she needed…a short respite, a jolt of caffeine, and a chance to reassess her actions.
She found a parking space, fed the meter, and pushed open the coffee shop’s glass door, fatigue dragging at her. The aroma drew her in irresistibly, and in a few moments she was sitting at a small round glass table, a steaming mug and a flaky croissant in front of her. She hadn’t bothered to read through the long list of specialty coffees the shop offered. All she wanted was caffeine, the sooner the better.
A woman brushed past her, the summer print dress and high platform sandals she wore making Violet uncomfortably aware of her faded jeans and scuffed cowboy boots. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been in Fort Worth before, but she’d usually taken time to dress appropriately for a trip to the city, a five-hour drive from the Colby ranch. This time she’d bolted out of her mother’s hospital room, exhausted from nights of waiting and praying for Mom to open her eyes.
She hadn’t been able to take it any longer. That wasn’t the Belle Colby everyone in the county knew, lying there motionless day after day. Belle Colby was energetic, vibrant, laughing, always in motion. She had to be, running a spread the size of the Colby Ranch and raising two kids on her own.
Not now. Not since her mare had stepped in a hole, sending Mom crashing to the ground. And Jack, as Violet’s big brother always the take-charge one, was so eaten up with guilt for arguing with Mom before the accident that he was being no help at all.
Violet broke a corner off the croissant and nibbled at it. Her family was broken, it seemed, and she was the only one who could fix it. That’s what she’d been thinking during those lonely hours before dawn at her mother’s hospital bed. The only solution her tired brain could come up with was to find their father—the man Mom never talked about.
Now that she was here, in Fort Worth, where she’d been born, the task seemed futile. Worse, it seemed stupid. What would it accomplish if she did find him?
She didn’t belong here, any more than the sophisticated-looking guy coming in the door would belong on the ranch. Expensively-cut suit and designer tie, glossy leather boots that had certainly never been worn to muck out a stall, a Stetson with not a smudge to mar its perfection—he was big city Texas, that was for sure.
That man’s head turned, as if he felt her stare, and she caught the full impact of a pair of icy green eyes before she could look away. She stared down at her coffee. Quickly she raised the mug, hoping to hide her embarrassment at being caught staring.
It didn’t seem to be working. She heard approaching footsteps and kept her gaze down. A pair of glossy brown boots moved into her range of vision.
“What are you doing here?”
Violet looked up, surprised. “What?”
“I said what are you doing here?” He pulled out the chair opposite her, uninvited, and sat down. “I told you I’d be at your apartment…” He slid back the sleeve of his suit to consult the gold watch on his tanned wrist. ”In five minutes. So why are you in the coffee shop instead of at your condo? Are you trying to avoid me?”
Okay, he was crazy. That was the only answer Violet could come up with. She groped for her bag, keeping her eyes on his face. It looked sane enough, with a deep tan that made those green eyes bright in contrast, a square, stubborn-looking jaw, and a firm mouth. His expensively-cut hair was sandy blond.
He didn’t look crazy, but what did that mean? Or maybe this was his idea of a pick-up line.
Her fingers closed on her bag, and she started to rise. His hand shut across the table and closed around her wrist. Not hard, but firmly enough that she couldn’t pull away without an undignified struggle.
“The least you can do is talk to me about it.” He looked as if keeping his temper was an effort. “Whatever you think, I still want to marry you.”

I hope you'll pick up a copy of HER SURPRISE SISTER next week!

Summer Gardens

I know it's not the summer solstice yet, but for me, summer arrives when we first start eating from the garden! Somehow fresh tastes even fresher when it goes from garden to kitchen to table. My husband brought in the first ripe raspberries last night--what a treat they are. And the leaf lettuce is so good we have salad every night.

My herbs are doing really well this year except for the chives, which apparently fell victim to a chipmunk whose breath now tastes like onions! The oregano I set out in the flower bed last fall likes it there and is spreading rapidly. The more tender herbs I grow in pots on a patio stand, so that they're close to the kitchen door. This year I have basil, parsley, lemon thyme, and spearmint.

A few nights ago I tried a new, quick recipe utilizing fresh spinach, fresh basil and organo from my herb garden, and we really enjoyed it. Here's how I made Low-Fat Veggie Pizzas:

Spray a cookie sheet with olive oil spray. Place flour tortillas on the sheet and spray the tops. Now spread a generous amount of shredded mozzarella on each one. Top with chopped fresh tomatoes, chopped onion, chopped spinach, minced basil and oregano leaves, and any other veggies you like. Drizzle a little olive oil over all. Sprinkle grated Parmesan on top. Bake in a 400 degree over for 10 minutes and serve. Makes a nice light supper for the family or a great appetizer for guests!

Enjoy,
Marta

Scavenger Hunt winners!

The first ever Christian Fiction Scavenger Hunt has ended and the grand prize winner, who will collect 23 new Christian novels with a value of over $250, is Elisabeth Scherer!
The winners of my drawing for a copy of Danger in Plain Sight are the following e-mail addresses: parker.glenda@ymail.com; marypres@gmail.com; and jhorne1@live.com. If you're a winner, be sure to email me at marta@martaperry.com with your address, so I can send your book. Thanks to all who entered!
It's too late to enter the contest, but there's still time to make the loop to discover 23 new or upcoming novels from some of your favorite Christian fiction authors!

Christian Fiction Scavenger Hunt!

CHRISTIAN FICTION SCAVENGER HUNT STOP # 13
Welcome to the first ever Christian Fiction Scavenger Hunt! Make the loop to discover 23 new or upcoming novels, and write down the clue at each stop. When you know what the clues say, fill out the Rafflecopter form by June 4, 2012 (midnight EST) at http://www.LisaBergren.com, and you could be in the running for the grand prize of 23 new, autographed books (if you live in the USA; unsigned if international). Note: if you're the winner, you must email the complete statement within 24 hours of notification in order to claim the Grand Prize...so don't miss a stop! Be ready with your answer if you're the lucky winner! No need to email it unless you receive the good word on June 5, 2012.
BONNIE LEON

As a part of this scavenger hunt, I’m delighted to host author BONNIE LEON. Bonnie is the best-selling author of a number of fascinating historical novels. In addition to her work as a writer, Bonnie has a passion for teaching of all kinds, especially on the art and intricacies of storytelling. She teaches at conferences and workshops and says, “There’s nothing more thrilling than to see a student’s eyes light up with understanding as she grasps the concepts of the writing craft and begins to believe she can tell stories someone else will want to read.”
Bonnie is also a regular speaker at women’s church groups, writing groups, and business organizations.
Bonnie’s latest book is JOY TAKES FLIGHT, and here’s a bit about it:
Kate Evans and Paul Anderson are finally married, settling in, and starting a family. They rejoice when Kate finds she is pregnant, but soon it is clear that there are hurdles ahead. Should she continue in her dangerous profession as an Alaskan bush pilot? Can she really fall into the role of a wife? Then tragedy strikes, life begins to unravel, and Kate fears she may have lost Paul for good.
A Scavenger Hunt Exclusive from Bonnie:
Mt. Makushin appeared in the distance. A cloud of ash billowed from the peak, reaching across the sky and blotting out the sun. Kate was grateful when Unalaska came into view. It meant she’d be rid of Jason, at least for the night.
“Will ya look at that,” Jason said. “Amazing! Can you get us any closer?
Right now? It’s late. The sun’s setting and I’m beat.”
“Come on, just a peek.”
Kate blew out a frustrated breath. “Okay. But no fancy stuff.” She turned toward the mountain.
Makushin looked ominous with its black cloud boiling up from inside. Melting snow was blackened by ash. Unalaska huddled just beyond, along a huge bay—vulnerable and too close to the angry mountain.
A mud flow spilled down the west side and ash splattered the windows of the plane. Kate worried what it might do to her engine. “We’re too close.” She veered off to the west. “Maybe tomorrow we can get a look at the caldera.”
“That would be great.” Jason took photographs. When he put down his camera, he wrote in a journal, then said, “Okay. That’s it for tonight.”
* * *
Her stomach rumbling, Kate wished the cook would hurry. She’d gone to bed the night before without eating. Tables were filling up with newsmen and the inquisitive, but there was no sign of Jason. The waitress returned with a plate of eggs and bacon, set it in front of her, then filled her cup with coffee. “Thanks,” Kate said.
Barely taking time to nod, the woman moved to the next table.
Kate bolted down her food, then leisurely drank her coffee as she waited for Jason. He didn’t show. Frustrated, she went to the register and paid for her meal, then headed for the door.
Just as Kate walked out Jason walked in. “Hey, you’re up early,” he said.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
Ignoring the comment, he said, “I’m gonna get some breakfast, then I’ll meet you at the plane.”
“Sure,” Kate said, wondering what had happened to their early start.
By the time Jason wandered out, she’d inspected the engine and cleaned ash from the fuselage, wings and the windows. Jason he climbed inside without a word. Kate cranked the flywheel and hurried to her seat. The engine started without a hitch.
“All we need is a quick look, a few pictures and then we’re on our way home.”
“Got it.” Jason worked on his camera.
Kate radioed the control room and headed onto the airfield. With so much airplane traffic she was glad to be one of the first up.
Kate lifted off and headed toward the mountain. Apprehension prickled up the backs of her legs. What was she doing? Paul had already lost a wife and child. He couldn’t do it again. Sick inside, Kate realized she didn’t belong here.
She approached the volcano. Chunks of dirty white glacier tumbled down a slope. The splendor of the mountain had been destroyed.
“Can you get closer?” Jason clicked off a photo.
Kate banked toward the mountain. The caldera looked like a huge steaming bowl. Melting snow and ice cut rivers into the cliff sides. Fascination grabbed hold of Kate, and then the mountain seemed to shudder and a chunk of its peak slid away. Ash belched from inside and a swirling black mass spewed into the air, blasting straight at Kate’s plane.



You can pick up a copy Bonnie’s book at http://www.amazon.com, http://barnesandnoble.com, http://www.cbd.com or your local bookstore. Find out more about this author at http://www.bonnieleon.com.

Scavenger Hunt Skinny
Now mosey along, Hunters, to STOP 14: Maureen Lang, http://www.maureenlang.com to pick up your next clue.
But before you go, write down this STOP 13 clue: tea

BONUS PRIZE: Leave a comment below with your e-mail address and be entered to win a copy of Danger in Plain Sight, Amish suspense by Marta Perry!

Danger in Plain Sight is out!

Danger in Plain Sight, book 3 in my Amish Suspense series from HQN Books, is out this week. Here's a taste of it to whet your appetite:


DANGER IN PLAIN SIGHT
By Marta Perry

Prologue

Amish buggies weren’t built for speed. If the men were following her, she couldn’t outrun them.

Esther Zook shivered in the December cold, turning her head to peer behind her, her view cut off by the brim of her bonnet.

Nothing. The township road lay dark and empty behind the buggy...as dark as every farmhouse she’d passed, surrounded by their blankets of snow. Country people went to bed early in the winter, especially the Amish, without electric lights and televisions to keep them awake.

Libby Morgan would be awake, though. If she could get to Libby, everything would be all right. Libby would know what to do.

If only she’d told Libby more in her letters...but Esther hadn’t known, then, just how frightening this was.

The Amish didn’t go to the law. They settled matters among themselves. But the Amish of Spring Township had never dealt with a problem like this before.
Esther had shrunk from putting her suspicions down in black and white, thinking that when Libby returned it would be time enough to seek her advice. But now suspicion had turned to certainty, and she feared she had delayed too long. If they were following her--

Even as she thought it, she heard the roar of an engine behind her. Panic sent her heart racing, she tried to think, tried to pray, but it was too late—too late. The roar turned to a scream, to s crash which deafened her, to total blackness.


Chapter One

It was nice to see someone else’s love life turning out well, especially when her own was such a train wreck, Libby Morgan decided. Now that her big brother Trey was married, Mom could turn her obvious desire for grandchildren to Trey and Jessica and stop asking her only daughter if she’d met anyone special yet.

Libby put down the bridesmaid’s bouquet she’d been clutching for what seemed like hours and picked up her camera instead. She’d discovered long ago that the camera could be useful camouflage. It would help her get through the rest of the wedding reception without, she hoped, too much conversation with people who’d known her from childhood and seemed compelled to try and find out how her life was going.

Then, once the flurry of wedding-related activities were over, she’d be free to dig into the other reason she’d come home to Spring Township, deep in Pennsylvania’s Amish country.

Something is terribly wrong. Esther’s last letter had sounded almost frightened, and Esther Zook, teacher at the local Amish one-room school, didn’t frighten easily. You know the Amish don’t go to the law, but I fear this is one time when we should. I must talk to you as soon as you get home. You know the Englisch world. You’ll be able to tell me if I’m right about this.

Libby snapped off a few shots, more to keep the camera in front of her face than anything else. She hadn’t reached Pennsylvania from San Francisco as early as she’d intended, partly because of the weather, but mainly because of the upset at the newspaper that had led to a final showdown with her boss...final in more ways than one.

Well, maybe she could set up in business as a wedding photographer. She framed Trey and Jessica in the pine-wreathed archway of the Springville Inn’s ballroom, seeming oblivious of everything but each other, and snapped several quick shots.

“No doubt about how those two feel.”

That particular deep male voice, coming from close behind her, made her hands jerk so that she undoubtedly got a great picture of the parquet floor. She turned, arranging a smile on her face. She’d had plenty of practice since fate, in the form of the bride, had paired her with Police Chief Adam Byler for the wedding.

“There isn’t, is there? This is one relationship that’s destined to last.”

As opposed to ours, which lasted for about a minute and a half. That being the case, why did she persist in comparing every man she met to Adam Byler?