by Maria Geraci
I can't believe that in just a few days summer will be over. Although officially, summer isn't over until Sept 21, Labor Day weekend traditionally marks the beginning of fall. Soon, it will be football games, cooler weather, dropping leaves and the beginning of the holiday rush. I'm both looking forward to it and regretting it, because honestly, my summer seemed to just disappear.
Maybe it's because I had a book debut in early August and it seemed that most of my days were filled with some kind of promotion. Or maybe it's because my youngest daughter was home from college, and having a kid in the house again is always busy. Or maybe it's because I never once made it to the beach. I know. I live in Florida and I'm ashamed to type that! All I know is that we made time for vacation this week and now we're sitting in the middle of a tropical storm. Oy! I'm a native Floridian and should know better. No one takes a vacation in Florida in late August (not if they can help it, that is!).
So, I didn't make it to the beach, I didn't take a real vacation, and I didn't make much, if any progress, on my next novel. Yet, I can't remember having a busier past few months.
In the tradition of back to school essays everywhere, I asked myself, what exactly did I do this summer?
Here's my list:
I wrote a gazillion blog and Q&A pieces for my blog tour to promote my new release. Plus, answered lots of emails.
Updated my website.
Traveled to Orlando for a book signing at the public library.
Caught up on 3 years worth of business expenses to amend my taxes. (Can you believe I found $22,000 worth of deductions?--yep, I'm a terrible book keeper.)
Cleaned out most of the closets in my home.
Took up Jazzercize again.
Went to see our local community theater's version of Aida 4 times (hey, my daughter was in the play!)
Obsessed endlessly over how my new novel was doing by Googling my title, name, etc... over and over.
Oh, and still worked at the day job (night job, to be exact- delivering babies).
Whew. I guess my summer was somewhat productive, after all.
What about you? What did you do this summer?
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
The END
I have a joke with a few of the writers here on Stiletto
that when I’m just about to get to the end of a manuscript but have run out of
ideas, my inclination—one that I have never acted on, by the way—is to write
“and then they all died.” Because let’s
face it, by the time you’ve written eighty thousand words or so, you are bone
tired. Tired of your keyboard, tired of
your characters, tired of finding new ways to say “murdered.” (I personally
like “bought it.”) Eventually, knowing
that that is not an acceptable way to end a story, you walk away from your
computer and figure out how to tie up the loose ends by not killing all of your
major characters, and by extension, your writing career.
I happened upon this topic because I just read a recently
published book that skyrocketed to the top of the bestseller list, loving every
single page, every single word until I got to the last chapter. Then, the book completely fell apart for me,
no resolution to the main conflict that existed for the better part of four
hundred words. Several friends and even
my mother read this book and I anxiously awaited their comments when they
finished. They were all the same:
Loved the book. Hated
the ending.
Now don’t get me wrong:
I don’t necessarily like everything tied up in a very neat bow, every
single loose end resolved in such a way that there is nary a question or
concern upon my finishing of a book.
However, I do expect some justice for the aggrieved, some sort of comeuppance
for the perpetrator, so to be left hanging leaves me feeling…well, for lack of
a better word…aggrieved. Obviously,
though, in the case of the aforementioned bestseller, the author didn’t feel
the same way, nor did their editor, I can only assume. They both thought that the non-resolution
brought forth by the main characters was suitable, maybe more like life itself?
I’m not sure. But it did leave a bad
taste in my mouth, but not completely diminishing the joy that I felt while
reading the book.
The ending of this book didn’t approach my favorite “and
then they all died” ending but more like “and they lived…maybe not
happily…maybe not forever…but at least for a little while.” It was interesting to me that my visceral
response was shared by everyone I knew who read the book as well as a bunch of
really ticked off online reviewers whose consternation practically jumped off
the screen.
How do you feel when you finish a book and are dissatisfied with
the ending? Does it affect future
purchases of the same author’s books? Would it drive you to post a vitriolic
rant on Amazon? Would it depend on just
how unsatisfying the ending was?
Maggie Barbieri
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Searching for the perfect fit
by: Joelle Charbonneau
I don’t know about you, but I’ve come to believe that life
is all about looking for the right fit.
As kids we spend time doing lots of different activities in a search for
the things that interest us and will help us grow into the people we are meant
to be. (My son is currently in this
stage. This summer alone we did swim
lessons, played t-ball and raced up and down the soccer field. He loved them all!)
As we get older we search for the right colleges that will
help us develop our interests. We search
for friends that will see us through the good and bad times and go on date
after date hoping to find the right match to walk through life with.
We shuttle through television shows and books in a quest for
those that speak to us. We work job
after job hoping to find that which fulfills us. Day by day we continuously are
searching. Growing. Changing.
In my life, we are currently searching for a perfect
something. For us it is the perfect
house. While I love our townhouse, the
time has come for us to move somewhere that has space for me to have an office….with
a door! (And with a handful of deadlines
and an active 4-year old to deal with, moving sounds like a relaxing thing to
do, right?) I’m lucky the tot loves the
house search. He counts bedrooms and
bathrooms (often testing the bathrooms…sigh) and smiles with delight over every
interesting detail. (Or not so
interesting depending on your point of view.
Personally, the large bathtub in the master suite of one house was way
too interesting for me.)
During our quest for the right house we have seen bathrooms
without doors (I wish I was joking), closet doors wallpapered on both sides,
attached garages that have no direct entrance to the house (this apparently was
a trend in the 70s?) and décor that belongs in an Austin Powers movie. Fun times.
We also found a house that I love. I think.
Today is the day the inspector will go through the house and let us know
if it is the perfect fit. If it is,
there will be boxes to pack, a piano to move and lots of work ahead.
And if it isn’t so perfect…well, I guess house hunting is a
lot like searching for the next great book to read…you have to keep looking
until you find the one that speaks to you.
Do you have any great “search for the perfect fit”
stories? If so, I’d love to hear
them. And if you’ve seen anything crazy
while hunting for houses, I’d love to hear those, too!
Monday, August 27, 2012
Lori's Book Sense
Welcome to this months edition of Lori's Book Sense.
I've had a very lazy, but exciting summer, so I've barely gotten any reading done this month. So for this month, I thought I'd share some titles that are due to be released in September that I'm really looking forward to reading.
Detective Jake Brogan is investigating a possible serial killer. Twice, bodies of unidentified women have been found by a bridge, and Jake is plagued by a media swarm beginning to buzz about a “bridge killer” hunting the young women of Boston.
As the body count rises and election looms closer, it becomes clear to Jane and Jake that their cases are connected…and that they may be facing a ruthless killer who will stop at nothing to silence a scandal.
Dirty politics, dirty tricks, and a barrage of final twists, The Other Woman is the first in an explosive new series by Hank Phillippi Ryan. Seduction, betrayal, and murder—it’ll take a lot more than votes to win this election.
and two unsolved murders.
Emma Taylor thought she knew what to expect when she abandoned life as a big-city fashionista to help her aunt, Arabella, breathe new style into Sweet Nothings, her waning lingerie boutique. As Emma settles back in to Paris, Tennessee—a world where pie is served with a parable and a pitcher of sweet tea is the cure for most of life’s ills—her escape seems smooth as silk.
But when the town acquires a touch of unneeded je ne sais quoi with the arrival of Emma’s philandering ex, an unseemly murder turns her world inside out. As the police’s top suspect, Emma is going to need more than fishnets to snare the real killer. And when she and Arabella refuse to let death threats wrapped in knifed nighties stall Sweet Nothings’ vintage lingerie fashion show, it becomes increasingly clear that any garter may hide a gun and that bullet bras might have to live up to their name…
Four people in a car, hoping to make Chicago by morning. One man driving, eyes on the road. Another man next to him, telling stories that don’t add up. A woman in the back, silent and worried. And next to her, a huge man with a broken nose, hitching a ride east to Virginia.
An hour behind them, a man lies stabbed to death in an old pumping station. He was seen going in with two others, but he never came out. He has been executed, the knife work professional, the killers vanished. Within minutes, the police are notified. Within hours, the FBI descends, laying claim to the victim without ever saying who he was or why he was there.
All Reacher wanted was a ride to Virginia. All he did was stick out his thumb. But he soon discovers he has hitched more than a ride. He has tied himself to a massive conspiracy that makes him a threat—to both sides at once.
In Lee Child’s white-hot thriller, nothing is what it seems, and nobody is telling the truth. As the tension rises, the twists come fast and furious, keeping readers guessing and gasping until the explosive finale.
That’s the name of the spunky group of fiber and needlework artists founded by Ivy McClellan, Kath’s beloved grandmother. Though Ivy has recently passed on, the ladies still meet regularly at her fabric and fiber shop, The Weaver’s Cat, which Kath has now inherited. But that’s only the first in a series of surprises when Kath returns to the small town of Blue Plum, Tennessee, to settle her grandmother’s affairs.
There’s been a murder, and it turns out her grandmother was the prime suspect. Before she can begin to clear Ivy’s name, Kath encounters a looming presence in the form of a gloomy ghost. It turns out the specter has just as much interest in solving the murder as Kath. So, with a little help from the ladies of TGIF—and a stubborn spirit from beyond—she sets out to unravel the clues and hook the real killer...
Mickey has always been ready to sacrifice everything to help the people he loves. But with danger just seconds away, how can he protect them when he’s not even sure who—or what—he’s protecting them from?
Ten years after the catastrophe, a great fallen city has risen again. Ten years after, a horror begins anew . . . or never truly ended.
The nightmare of 9/11 is a distant but still painful memory for Allison Taylor MacKenna—now married to Mack and living in a quiet Westchester suburb. She has moved on with her life ten years after barely escaping death at the hands of New York’s Nightwatcher serial killer. The monster is dead, having recently committed suicide in his prison cell, but something is terribly wrong. Mack has started sleepwalking, with no recollection of where his nighttime excursions are taking him. And here, north of the city, more women are being savagely murdered, their bodies bearing the Nightwatcher’s unmistakable signature.
Suddenly Allison must confront a devastating truth: her life is in jeopardy once again . . . and quite possibly from the man she trusts and loves.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Writing Books and Maintaining Friendships
by Linda
Rodriguez
I have become a terrible friend. I
spend all my time writing books, taking care of the business of books
(research, tours, conferences, accounting, and correspondence with editors, agents,
publicists, and fans), and promoting my books (blogs, guest blogs, interviews,
signings and readings, Facebook, Twitter, email newsletters, etc.). There’s
little time left over even for my family and my own physical and spiritual needs.
Making time for a friend involves
carving a hunk out of an already over-committed day, and the problem is that I
have a lot of friends. They’re wonderful people with whom I love to spend a
leisurely lunch or afternoon coffee/tea break while engaged in delightful,
intelligent conversation. I’m lucky if I can manage this with one of them every
few months. So I have many friends I only “see” on Facebook. This is one thing
with friends I love who live far away. Facebook is a great way to keep in touch
with them when we know we’ll only see each other once a year at some
conference. It’s quite another kettle of fish with friends who live in the same
town.
I’ve been thinking about this
situation lately—and my thoughts have not been happy ones. I miss my friends,
and I hate responding to an invitation to get together with a list of three possible
dates four months in the future. I worry that the message that sends is not at
all the one I want to send, that they will incorrectly feel I don’t value their
friendships. As for a spontaneous “Mary’s in town for two days, so let’s have
lunch with her and catch up,” I’m almost never in a position to join in.
This situation all came to a head
for me recently. A friend sent me a chain email that talked about a sister who
would never spontaneously go to lunch and had recently died without ever going
to lunch with her sister. (I wonder why they chose to send that email to me?)
Right after that, I received an email from one of my oldest friends to tell me
she’d had surgery and was laid up at home in bed, going stir-crazy. My first
thought was, “I should drive out there and visit with her.” This friend lives
on the other side of town out in the country, entailing an hour-long highway drive
there and and another hour-long highway drive back. That visit would eat up an entire afternoon, so my first
thought was immediately followed by a list of the things I have to do, many of
which have imminent deadlines. “I’ll send her a card and some flowers to wish
her a quick recovery and finish some of these urgent tasks,” was my next
thought. “I’ll visit her later when I have time.” As if I would ever have an
open afternoon to go see her without creating it!
That quick dismissal of my friend’s
situation in order to get back to the always-present workload left me wondering
what was wrong with me? When had I become the kind of person who would begrudge
a few hours to visit a friend at home alone on bed rest? If a wonderful
professional opportunity suddenly presented itself, and I needed to make major
adjustments to my schedule to accommodate it, I knew I would. Why not for an
old, dear friend?
I sat down and made a list of all
the good friends I’ve had to put off for lunch or other meetings. I decided I
had to do something about this. I’m trying to build a whole new career with my
books, and it’s demanding and time-consuming, as it is for any small
businessperson. But I don’t want to ignore my friends. So I made up a schedule
that allows me to meet someone for lunch every week. I’m going to work my
way through my list of friends that way. It means finding some other time to do
some critical tasks. They’re also important and can’t be skipped. It won’t
be easy, at all. But I know the kind of person I am, the kind of person I long
ago decided to be, a person to whom people are more important than things. If
my career takes a little longer to get going, at least I won’t have achieved it
at the cost of becoming someone different from who I truly am.
And yes, dear reader, I’ll be slow
responding to your comments today because I’m spending the afternoon taking
lunch to my dear friend who’s recuperating from surgery, and we’ll be making
bad jokes and laughing hysterically at them.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
So a Man Walks Into a Bar...
Or
Look, it's My New Short Story!
by
Bethany Maines
Look, it's My New Short Story!
by
Bethany Maines
I have a theory that short stories are like jokes. There’s the set-up that establishes
location and characters. A man walks into a bar with a duck on his head. Then
there’s the action that moves the plot forward. The bartender says,
“Sorry, we don’t serve monkey’s in here.” And the man says, “It’s a duck.” And
then there’s the ending. The bartender says, “I was talking to the
duck.” There’s always more that can be added to the joke, such as
why the man had a duck on his head to begin with or who won the fight after the
ending, but the joke doesn’t really need it. And there’s the challenge to the author – to figure out what
is the right amount of information and what is just an explanation of the why
the man is wearing a duck hat.
Tomorrow, I’ll be releasing my first e-short story,
Supporting the Girls, (available from Amazon, ibook, Barnes & Noble, and Vook) so you will be able to judge for yourselves whether or
not I selected the correct information. Supporting the Girls is a new adventure for Nikki Lanier and her covert
team of Carrie Mae make-up ladies.
(If you haven’t read my novels Bulletproof Mascara and Compact With the Devil, you may need to understand that Carrie Mae is a
make-up corporation, specializing in at-home sales and make-up parties, that
also happens to run an organization of female operatives that help women
everywhere.)
And I may have gotten a little carried away while I was working
on my story because I also made a video.
But when you have a “great idea for a movie” (you have to say that part
like Jean Claude VanDamme), you know a videographer, and you’re friends with an
entire karate school of awesome people, suddenly an action movie doesn’t sound
like such a far-fetched venture. Head over to youtube to check it out!
It’s possible of course that my joke isn’t that good, or
that possibly the joke is on me, but tomorrow you will have the opportunity to
judge for yourselves and I’m hoping I hear laughter. But… um… you did read that part about how I’m friend with an
entire karate school, right? Let’s
just say, I’d better hear laughter.
Leave a comment to below for a chance to win a free copy of Supportingthe Girls!
Labels:
Book Trailer,
Carrie Mae Mysteries,
epub,
Nikki Lanier,
short story
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Confessions of a Retired Queen of Camping
Every vacation my family took was a camping trip of some sort--first to Yosemite when I was small and as a teen, every summer to Bass Lake where we tent camped for two weeks. Glorious long days swimming, boating and water skiing and making lot of new friends. (Even had a couple of summer romances.)
After I married and we had our kids, tent camping was all we could afford. I was a champion fire starter and was a great outdoor cook. When my girls became Camp Fire Girls, of course we camped everywhere--at the beach (cooked a turkey in a deep pit in the sand and it actually turned out wonderful), and every nearby campground. When the girls became high-schoolers, we back-packed into a remote area. (I'm good at research, talked to some Boy Scout leaders to find out how.) We did great. Went on a couple of back-pack trips with other Camp Fire Girl groups. I was fearless. Slept on the ground under the stars and cooked gourmet meals.
Hubby's family reunion was planned on the East Coast, of course. We were poor as church mice so the only way to go was by tent camping across the country. I saved $500 for gas (before credit cards) and when we had to pay for incidentals like campsites. (I had a book though that showed all the free camping spots. I planned accordingly, two days at the freebies, one day at a paid site that had washing machines and dryers.)
I planned the menu with recipes for every day we'd be on the road and bought all the food (a lot of cans) and put everything for each meal in a sack marked accordingly, which day and which meal.. We drove a VW bus back then and hubby built a tiny utility trailer that we pulled along behind. This is where all our camping gear (tent, stove, pots and pans, sleeping bags, and food went.)
Our daughter was married, the other soon to be and they stayed home with the dog, cat and took care of the house. Going with us were two younger teens (boy and girl) and grammar school aged boy. The teens slept while we traveled when they weren't squabbling. The youngest loved watching out the window. No seat belts back then and he sat on the ice chest so he could see out the front window.
We barely made it up some of the highest mountains with our loaded trailer. And it wasn't long before the bus wouldn't start on its own--we all had to get out and push. Didn't take much though, a pop of the clutch and it started and we all jumped back in.
When we reached our daily destination, it took us one hour to set up camp. In the morning, it took one hour to take everything down. It rained so often at night, hubby would ask, "What cloud shall we camp under tonight?" All five of us slept in the tent together--very close quarters.
If was already raining when we arrived somewhere, we sat up the tent and hooked it to the VW and cooked and ate inside it, and slept in the VW, also cramped.
We finally arrived at our destination, one day late. Most of the relatives had gone home. We still got to see a lot of hubby's family. He took the VW in to get it fixed. It worked well while were there, as soon as we took off it quit starting on his own. (We kept this VW bus for a long time and it continued to have this problem, but even kids could push it--or ladies in evening gowns--for a short distance and a pop of the clutch would get it started.)
Back on the road, we traveled a more southerly direction and actually did a bit of sightseeing. Camped and visited the Carlsbad Caverns. The wind came up in the night so fierce, people's tents toppled, some blew away, but not ours, hubby always made sure our stakes were hammered into the ground.
We survived thunder storms, close lightning strikes, hid under a bridge during a tornado, but we finally made it home.
After that, we bought a camper to put on our old truck--my tent camping days were over. The camper was a big improvement.
We traveled to Oregon in truck and camper with two kids, and to Yellowstone with the youngest.
My latest "camping trips" have been in my daughter and son-in-law's luxurious motor home, lots of fun, but nothing like the camping we used to do.
This past week our church had a family camping trip up in the mountains. I declined. The idea of sleeping on the ground in a tent, getting up in the night to go to an outhouse didn't appeal at all. They had a wonderful time and I'm glad. I've retired from camping and I mean it.
Marilyn (who still loves to travel, but wants to sleep in a nice bed in a hotel room.)
After I married and we had our kids, tent camping was all we could afford. I was a champion fire starter and was a great outdoor cook. When my girls became Camp Fire Girls, of course we camped everywhere--at the beach (cooked a turkey in a deep pit in the sand and it actually turned out wonderful), and every nearby campground. When the girls became high-schoolers, we back-packed into a remote area. (I'm good at research, talked to some Boy Scout leaders to find out how.) We did great. Went on a couple of back-pack trips with other Camp Fire Girl groups. I was fearless. Slept on the ground under the stars and cooked gourmet meals.
Hubby's family reunion was planned on the East Coast, of course. We were poor as church mice so the only way to go was by tent camping across the country. I saved $500 for gas (before credit cards) and when we had to pay for incidentals like campsites. (I had a book though that showed all the free camping spots. I planned accordingly, two days at the freebies, one day at a paid site that had washing machines and dryers.)
I planned the menu with recipes for every day we'd be on the road and bought all the food (a lot of cans) and put everything for each meal in a sack marked accordingly, which day and which meal.. We drove a VW bus back then and hubby built a tiny utility trailer that we pulled along behind. This is where all our camping gear (tent, stove, pots and pans, sleeping bags, and food went.)
Our daughter was married, the other soon to be and they stayed home with the dog, cat and took care of the house. Going with us were two younger teens (boy and girl) and grammar school aged boy. The teens slept while we traveled when they weren't squabbling. The youngest loved watching out the window. No seat belts back then and he sat on the ice chest so he could see out the front window.
We barely made it up some of the highest mountains with our loaded trailer. And it wasn't long before the bus wouldn't start on its own--we all had to get out and push. Didn't take much though, a pop of the clutch and it started and we all jumped back in.
When we reached our daily destination, it took us one hour to set up camp. In the morning, it took one hour to take everything down. It rained so often at night, hubby would ask, "What cloud shall we camp under tonight?" All five of us slept in the tent together--very close quarters.
If was already raining when we arrived somewhere, we sat up the tent and hooked it to the VW and cooked and ate inside it, and slept in the VW, also cramped.
We finally arrived at our destination, one day late. Most of the relatives had gone home. We still got to see a lot of hubby's family. He took the VW in to get it fixed. It worked well while were there, as soon as we took off it quit starting on his own. (We kept this VW bus for a long time and it continued to have this problem, but even kids could push it--or ladies in evening gowns--for a short distance and a pop of the clutch would get it started.)
Back on the road, we traveled a more southerly direction and actually did a bit of sightseeing. Camped and visited the Carlsbad Caverns. The wind came up in the night so fierce, people's tents toppled, some blew away, but not ours, hubby always made sure our stakes were hammered into the ground.
We survived thunder storms, close lightning strikes, hid under a bridge during a tornado, but we finally made it home.
After that, we bought a camper to put on our old truck--my tent camping days were over. The camper was a big improvement.
We traveled to Oregon in truck and camper with two kids, and to Yellowstone with the youngest.
My latest "camping trips" have been in my daughter and son-in-law's luxurious motor home, lots of fun, but nothing like the camping we used to do.
This past week our church had a family camping trip up in the mountains. I declined. The idea of sleeping on the ground in a tent, getting up in the night to go to an outhouse didn't appeal at all. They had a wonderful time and I'm glad. I've retired from camping and I mean it.
Marilyn (who still loves to travel, but wants to sleep in a nice bed in a hotel room.)
Labels:
Camp Fire Girls,
outdoor cooking,
tent camping,
VW bus
Monday, August 20, 2012
Excerpt from Summer Lightning in Lottawatah
by Evelyn David
from Summer Lightning in Lottawatah - Book 9 of the Brianna Sullivan Mysteries series
______________
"Cooper?"
The apartment door was ajar. "Cooper?"
I was yelling his name, partly because I was afraid, partly to
make myself heard over the thunder and the barking dog I clutched in my arms.
I reached inside and flipped the wall switch. Nothing. The power
was out.
"Cooper?"
Lightning flashed and for a few seconds I could see the living
room.
Cooper was standing in the center of the room, staring down at
something on the carpet.
The next flash of lightning revealed it wasn't a something on the
floor; it was a someone.
"Cooper? What happened?" I took a few steps into the
room, pulling my cell phone out of my pocket. I felt something brush past my
leg. "I'm calling 9-1-1. Are you hurt?"
"Be sure to tell them he killed me."
The raspy voice came from beside me and it wasn't Cooper's.
Instead of dialing 9-1-1, I started to call the Lottawatah
Police Department directly. Obviously paramedics weren't going to be needed.
***
***
I didn't finish my 9-1-1 call. Turned out Cooper's landlady had
heard the gunshot and called the cops. A couple of seconds after I saw Cooper the
room was filled with flashlighted first responders and police officers. It felt
like the storm had moved inside the apartment.
Thunder kept booming, the sound waves shaking the apartment
building. I was standing just inside, near the open doorway. The rain was blowing
in from behind me. Except for where the beams from the moving flashlights fell
or when the lightning flashed, the room was pitch black. I kept trying to focus
on the location where I'd seen Cooper. He didn't seem to be there anymore. He
hadn't said a word since I'd entered the apartment. The whole scene had the
quality of a nightmare. I was ready to wake up.
Officers in raincoats circled me as though I wasn't there. I ventured
a few steps farther into the room. That was a mistake. I was finally noticed,
my invisibility cloak deactivated.
The officer I often jokingly refer to as Barney Fife physically removed
me from the scene. He took hold of my arm and pulled. He wouldn't even let me
look for Leon
before rushing me through the pouring rain to his patrol car. It wouldn't have
taken me long to find Leon, the bulldog was probably hiding in the closet,
buried under whatever dirty clothes that Cooper had tossed on the floor last. I
tried to explain that to Barney Fife. I tried to tell him that I needed to
bring Leon
with me, but he ignored me. I guess I'm lucky I wasn't put in handcuffs.
To punctuate the surreal quality of the scene, Barney Fife put
on flashing lights and a siren for the few deserted blocks to the small town police
station. Without a word, he locked me in one of the two sparsely furnished
interview rooms. I noticed that the police station had electricity. Apparently
the power outage didn't extend to Main
Street . Maybe the boom I heard wasn't a gunshot,
just a blown electrical transformer.
No. That was just wishful thinking. It was a gunshot. I was sure
of that. And there was a body on the floor and a ghost talking to me, although
the last fact would probably not be admissible in court.
My clothes and hair were soaking wet from the rain. The wooden
chairs were just as hard as I remembered from my first visit to the Lottawatah
Police Station just after I arrived in town.
I sat there, staring at nothing in particular. My thoughts were
jumbled. I didn't know if Cooper had been hurt. Had someone tried to rob the
apartment? Had a criminal come after Cooper seeking revenge? Who had been in
the apartment?
I pushed my dripping hair out of my face. I noticed my hands
smelled like the wet dog I'd recently handled.
"Do you want some coffee?"
Chief Harlan Bell was standing in the doorway. How long had he
been there? I hadn't heard him come in. Was I losing my mind? How much time had
passed since the shooting? Minutes? Hours? No, not hours.
"Is Cooper okay? Will you tell me what's going on?" I
asked the question but knew I wouldn't get an answer. The man didn't like me in
the best of times. This certainly wasn't the best of times.
"Beverly
is bringing you some dry clothes. Did someone read you your rights?"
"Am I under arrest?" Surely by now Cooper had
explained to his boss what had happened. And whatever that was, it must have
been self-defense. And besides, why would I be under arrest. I hadn't killed
anybody. I didn't even own a gun.
Chief Bell just stared at me. I noticed he had a plastic cover
over his Stetson. I didn't realize they made rain covers for cowboy hats.
"Is that a new hat?" It seemed I couldn't process more
than one thought at a time. Is this what shock felt like?
He shook his head. "Old hat. Do you want a lawyer?"
I needed something, but it wasn't a lawyer.
"I think I'd like that coffee now."
To read more purchase a copy of Summer Lightning in Lottawatah
Kindle - http://tinyurl.com/briannav9K
Nook - http://tinyurl.com/briannav9N
Smashwords - http://tinyurl.com/briannav9Smash
Also for a limited time only the first 4 ebooks in the Brianna Sullivan Mysteries series are being offered as a boxed ebook set for only $5.99 (half of what buying the books separately would cost).
The Ghosts of Lottawatah
Kindle - http://tinyurl.com/LottawatahGhostsK
Nook - http://tinyurl.com/LottawatahGhostsN
Brianna Sullivan Mysteries - e-book series
I Try Not to Drive Past Cemeteries- Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
The Dog Days of Summer in Lottawatah- Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
The Holiday Spirit(s) of Lottawatah- Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
Undying Love in Lottawatah- Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
A Haunting in Lottawatah - Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
Lottawatah Twister - Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
Missing in Lottawatah - Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
Good Grief in Lottawatah - Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
Summer Lightning in Lottawatah - Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
The Ghosts of Lottawatah - trade paperback collection of the Brianna e-books
Book 1 - I Try Not to Drive Past Cemeteries (includes the first four Brianna e-books)
Book 2 - A Haunting in Lottawatah (includes the 5th, 6th, and 7th Brianna e-books)
Sullivan Investigations Mystery
Murder Off the Books Kindle - Nook - Smashwords - Trade Paperback
Murder Takes the Cake Kindle - Trade Paperback (exclusive to Amazon for 90 days)
Riley Come Home (short story)- Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
Moonlighting at the Mall (short story) - Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
Romances
Love Lessons - Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
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