Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Travel Around the World - And Never Leave Home

For one who reads, there is no limit to the number of lives that may be lived, for fiction, biography, and history offer an inexhaustible number of lives in many parts of the world, in all periods of time.
Louis L'Amour


Valerie Maarten - Florida Author

The Nation's Daughter - Set in Florida

Visit Val's Amazon Page and travel with her characters through Florida, Georgia and New York





Donna Montgomery Fasano - Delaware Author

Merry-Go-Round - Sterling, Delaware

Visit Donna's Amazon Page and travel with her characters to Maryland, VA, Delaware, New Jersey - Delmarva Peninsula






Linda S. Prather - Kentucky Author

Bet you can't...FIND ME
From the horse farms of Kentucky to the seductive pull of the Louisiana Bayou

Visit Linda's Amazon Page and travel with her characters to West Virginia, Virginia and North Dakota




Libby Hellmann - Chicago Author

Doubleback - Arizona and Wisconsin

Visit Libby's Amazon Page and travel with her characters to Chicago, Michigan, Armenia, Soviet Georgia and Iran






Mel Comley - British Author who lives in France

Impeding Justice - Throughout London and France

Visit Mel's Amazon Page and travel with her characters through London and France and on a Caribbean Cruise or Florida






Tania Tirraoro - British Author living in Farnham

Sweet Seduction - Surrey, UK

Visit Tania's Amazon Page and travel with her characters through Surrey






Jim Bronyaur - Pennsylvania Author

The Devil's Weekend - Pennsylvania

Visit Jim's Amazon Page and travel with his characters through Pennsylvania






Lia Fairchild - California Author

Finding Lucy - From L.A. to Texas

Visit Lia's Amazon Page and travel with her characters through Northern California






Barbara Silkstone - Florida Author

Wendy and the Lost Boys - From the Caribbean to a goat farm in Georgia then to Nevis Island and Nevisland

Visit Barbara's Amazon Page and travel with her characters from Miami to London





OR YOU CAN - TRAVEL OUT OF THIS WORLD

Catrina Taylor - Pennsylvania Author

In her debut novel, Catrina takes us to another world to build a new empire





Sunday, January 29, 2012

"Yea, though I walk through the Valley. . .Excerpt - Bet you can't...FIND ME




PROLOGUE

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for You are with me…

But He wasn’t with her.

She leaned against the cold steel door, her eyes closed in prayer. “Father, why have you forsaken me? What sins have I committed that you would punish me this way?”

When you spread out your hands in prayer, I will hide my eyes from you; even if you offer many prayers, I will not listen. Your hands are full of blood.

“Fiank-o!” she screamed.

Her eyes flew open, and she spread her hands in front of her. Blood rimmed her manicured nails. Out of the corner of her vision, she saw the blood-soaked blouse plastered to her chest. So much blood for such a tiny body.

Ripping at her blouse, she mewed like a wounded animal. “Then take my eyes, so I no longer see the blood of my child on my hands. Take my ears, so I no longer hear the shrieks from below, the clanging of the chains.”

Silence met her cry. God was no longer listening. She sank to her knees and ripped at her hair, bordering on madness. How could they do this to her? Had she not served them well for more than ten years?

“You know what you must do, Aggie. I have seen the feux-folet. She is the child of Diablo, and she has cursed you.”

For a moment, rage blocked the pain squeezing her heart. “You!” Her eyes filled with hatred, fists clenched at her side. “You brought this upon us with your superstitions and your curses.”

“Mwen pòv zanj pèdi—you know I speak the truth. I was here when she was born without life, her body blue, her soul already beyond this world. Five years have come and gone. As she grows, so does the evil. They warned you this day would come.”

The old woman’s words washed over her like a river of ice, extinguishing the fire of her rage, leaving only a cold, still emptiness.

“I begged them, Mother. Begged for her life as her blood seeped through my fingers. I have served God, and I have served the spirits. But they have forsaken me.” She raised tortured eyes to beseech the old woman, her efforts met with stony silence and beady eyes filled with accusation. “I begged them!” Her voice tapered to a whimper. “She is only five. I have lost Catherine. Must I lose Mary also?”

The old woman knelt beside her. Taking her right hand, she pried open the fingers and closed them around the cold steel of the knife. “You can’t cure a mad dog, Aggie; you can only put it down. You disobeyed. You have been punished. Now pick up your cross, and carry it.”

The silence in the room was broken only by her whimpers; the old woman had left as quietly as she’d come. The knife lay heavy in her hand, just as the task before her lay heavy on her heart.

She rose and opened the door to the basement, ignoring the shrieks and clang of the chains. Her feet descended the steps slowly, the old woman’s words echoing inside her head: You can’t cure a mad dog, Aggie; you can only put it down.

Saturday, January 28, 2012

Momma's Coming to Dinner

Last week I asked our viewers on Got Books? to post their favorite foods and I would try to weave them into a short story. We had 22 entries and for the story I've brought back two of my favorite characters from Food to Die Smiling For--Sammi and Carrie. I hope you enjoy.



Momma’s Coming to Dinner

Flipping on the TV, I sorted my way through Netflix to find Lord of the Rings, grabbed my bowl of banana pudding and sank into the couch for a nice quiet evening of gluttony and pure entertainment. I should have known it was too good to last. The key in the lock was my first indication my quiet evening was over. Sammi breezed in, humming “Ain’t Love Grand” and carrying two bags of groceries.

“I thought you were going out with Mark?” I looked for a place to hide the banana pudding. Too late.

Sammi’s face screwed up and her mouth poked out in her little “shame on you” pout. “Carrie Thompson, tell me that is not all you’re having for dinner?”

“Of course not.” I couldn’t help the guilty grin. “I was gonna order a pizza, some three cheese enchilidas, and then have a piece of Chocolate Cheesecake and maybe some Apple and Blueberry crumble for dessert.”

Uh-oh. I’ve seen that look on Sammi’s face before.

“You will definitely not be eating any of that garbage.” She shifted the bags, gave me a gorgeous smile and continued. “Mark’s coming for dinner, and you can join us.”

Oh, goody, goody, goody. Instead of a nice peaceful night of good food and entertainment, I’d be stuffing my face with some healthy garbage like grilled salmon and couscous, with a side order of mashed potatoes and cauliflower. Or God forbid—Talapia with rice and beef or even worse Spaghetti Bolognese. And all the while sitting through The Big Bang Theory while Mark whispers sweet nothings. God hates me. He really does.

With one last wistful look at Viggo Mortensen, I paused my movie, stood up and took one of the bags of groceries and headed to the kitchen. “So what wonderful culinary dishes are you planning for the evening?”

“You’re going to love it. We’ve having Sushi with green beans in a dry coconut curry, and for dessert we’ll have blueberries and cream.”

Bleeyuk! Okay, I know that’s probably not a word, but it was the first thing that came to mind. Dropping the groceries on the counter I turned to give Sammi my best “you’ve got to be kidding me” look. Hands on hips I stared her down. “Sammi, how long have we been living together?”

Giving me a flash of those pearly whites she dropped her purse on the floor and put her bag on the counter. “Like forever.”

“Well, then you should know I’m not really a Sushi, green been curry kind of girl. I’m a chili, mac and cheese kind of girl.”

“Oh, poo,” Sammi pouted. “You serve the most delicious cuisine in the world every day, and yet you eat garbage.” She turned to give me a look I’ve never seen before. A cross between scared and elated. “Besides you need to lose some weight before the wedding.”

I could feel my mouth flop open, and did my best to wrap my tongue around something intelligent and spiffy to come back with. Instead I wound up stammering. “Wed…wed…wedding?”

Sammi bit her bottom lip and nodded. A single tear rolled down her face.

Okay, Carrie, this is where you do that high pitched girlie squeal, grab her hands and dance her around the room giggling and bouncing like an idiot. Problem was I just wasn’t the “squealing, giggling, bouncy” girlie type. I’ve never squealed in my life. But Sammi was my very best friend. Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly and grinned. I crossed the room, grabbed her hands and hopped up and down. “Squee! Squee!”

Sammi giggled and pulled me into a bear hug. “That’s the most pathetic squeal I’ve ever heard.” Pushing me away she looked into my eyes. “But I do appreciate the effort. So you’re happy for me?”

“Estatic. So, how long do I have to lose this weight, and how much do I have to lose?”

Sammi started unloading the groceries. “I was only kidding about the weight. We haven’t even set the date yet.”

“But I still have to eat Sushi?”

“And green beans in a dry coconut curry. So go back to Viggio and let me cook.”

“It’s Viggo!” I yelled out, returning to the couch and picking up my bowl of pudding. Funny thing was, it didn’t taste as good as it had before. I’d always known this day would come, and I loved Mark. I really did. Sighing I hit the play button and homed in on Viggo. What a hunk. Now if he asked me to marry him I could probably squeal like a girl.

The phone rang, and I turned up the volume shutting out the giggling and love talk from the kitchen. Bleeyuk!

“Oh, my God! Oh, my God!”

Uh-oh. The sounds of pans clanging lifted the corners of my mouth in a pleasant smile. A new Sammi. I’d seen happy Sammi, sad Sammi, and even on one occasion angry Sammi—but this was new. Frantic Sammi. I knew what was coming, so I wasn’t surprised when I heard the wail.

“Carrie!”

Of course, if I’d known what was coming I would have quietly slipped on my shoes and run like hell. Instead I flipped off the TV and walked toward the kitchen, an unsuspecting fly heading for the spider’s web. The look on Sammi’s face stopped me in my tracks. Not frantic—panicked. “What’s wrong?”

“Mark’s bringing his mother to dinner.”

“Smorgasboard Mary?” I backed out of the kitchen slowly. All I had to do was make it to the door. Screw the shoes.

Sammi caught me, grabbing my arms. “Carrie, you’ve got to help me. The apartment’s a mess. I’ll clean, you cook. Please?”

“Oh, hell no! The last time she inhaled three pounds of barbeque ribs and accused me of trying to kill her because she swallowed a bone.”

Sammi squeezed my arms, her eyes huge. “Please, Carrie. Please, please, please.”

Okay, maybe I could turn this around to my benefit. Have a little fun. “All right. But I get to cook what I want.”

“Anything you want. Just make sure there’s plenty of it.” Sammi gave me a quick hug and headed for the living room.

Opening the freezer I pulled out a pack of pork chops and threw them in the microwave to defrost. That should be nice and greasy.

An image of Mary licking barbeque sauce flickered in front of my eyes. She did love her meat.

Going to the pantry I pulled out potatoes and started peeling. A nice baked potato soup and salad as an opening course. I could probably live with the green beans. Hawaiian rolls would do nicely, and we still had the apple and blackberry crumble as well as a couple of pieces of chocolate cheesecake.

Yet it was missing something. Something special. Going back to the freezer I pulled out the corn on the cob. Perfect. After all if Sammi was going to marry Mark, she needed to realize she was also marrying Mary. Humming softly and grinning from ear to ear I pulled out pots and started cooking, imagining those huge teeth traveling up and down those ears of corn like a manual typewriter. Chew, chew, chew—ka-ching. Chew, chew, chew—ka-ching.

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Tuesday, January 24, 2012

If you love The Mentalist - Check out - Bet you can't... FIND ME

Author of the DI Lorne Simpkins Thrillers - Mel Comley says: "One of the best paranormal mysteries I've read."

“Imagine a killer who can kill at will from a distance. No gun, no weapon. Nothing more than a thought."

Catherine Mans has the ability to see and hear what others can’t. With the help of Homicide Sergeant Cody Allen, she’s turned that talent into a successful profession as a psychic consultant.

But Catherine’s past is coming back to haunt her. Someone is threatening the lives of everyone she loves.

Nine bodies have been discovered, and Catherine is the FBI’s prime suspect.

To prove her innocence, she must unravel the secrets of her past, and answer the challenge of a deranged psychic.

Bet you can’t…FIND ME!

"If you love the psychic suspense of Kay Hooper and the witty characters of Tammy Hoag, you'll love Find Me!"

PROLOGUE

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for You are with me…

But He wasn’t with her.

She leaned against the cold steel door, her eyes closed in prayer. “Father, why have you forsaken me? What sins have I committed that you would punish me this way?”

When you spread out your hands in prayer, I will hide my eyes from you; even if you offer many prayers, I will not listen. Your hands are full of blood.

“Fiank-o!” she screamed.

Her eyes flew open, and she spread her hands in front of her. Blood rimmed her manicured nails. Out of the corner of her vision, she saw the blood-soaked blouse plastered to her chest. So much blood for such a tiny body.

Ripping at her blouse, she mewed like a wounded animal. “Then take my eyes, so I no longer see the blood of my child on my hands. Take my ears, so I no longer hear the shrieks from below, the clanging of the chains.”

Silence met her cry. God was no longer listening. She sank to her knees and ripped at her hair, bordering on madness. How could they do this to her? Had she not served them well for more than ten years?

“You know what you must do, Aggie. I have seen the feux-folet. She is the child of Diablo, and she has cursed you.”

For a moment, rage blocked the pain squeezing her heart. “You!” Her eyes filled with hatred, fists clenched at her side. “You brought this upon us with your superstitions and your curses.”

“Mwen pòv zanj pèdi—you know I speak the truth. I was here when she was born without life, her body blue, her soul already beyond this world. Five years have come and gone. As she grows, so does the evil. They warned you this day would come.”

The old woman’s words washed over her like a river of ice, extinguishing the fire of her rage, leaving only a cold, still emptiness.

“I begged them, Mother. Begged for her life as her blood seeped through my fingers. I have served God, and I have served the spirits. But they have forsaken me.” She raised tortured eyes to beseech the old woman, her efforts met with stony silence and beady eyes filled with accusation. “I begged them!” Her voice tapered to a whimper. “She is only five. I have lost Catherine. Must I lose Mary also?”

The old woman knelt beside her. Taking her right hand, she pried open the fingers and closed them around the cold steel of the knife. “You can’t cure a mad dog, Aggie; you can only put it down. You disobeyed. You have been punished. Now pick up your cross, and carry it.”

The silence in the room was broken only by her whimpers; the old woman had left as quietly as she’d come. The knife lay heavy in her hand, just as the task before her lay heavy on her heart.

She rose and opened the door to the basement, ignoring the shrieks and clang of the chains. Her feet descended the steps slowly, the old woman’s words echoing inside her head: You can’t cure a mad dog, Aggie; you can only put it down.