Monthly Archives: July 2015

Brain to Books Blog Tour Day 8/#2

Linda Rawlins

Brain to Books Blog Tour

Fast Facts

Author: Linda Rawlins

Genre: Mystery/Suspense/Thriller, Religion/Christian/Catholic fiction

Books: The Bench, Fatal Breach, Sacred Gold from the The Rocky Meadow Mystery Series

Official Site


Linda RawlinsAuthor of Fatal Breach, The Bench, Sacred Gold

As a child, I loved to read, whenever and whatever I could get my hands on. I started to write my own “Nancy Drew” type mystery in fifth grade. As a student, I studied Biology in Vermont, Sciences and Literature in college and eventually became a physician. I enjoy writing mysteries that contain medical and light spiritual content. Either way, a good murder mystery is always fun.

My first book, The Bench, is set in the fictional town of Rocky Meadow, VT. The Rocky Meadow Mystery series then continues with Fatal Breach and Sacred Gold, although each book can be read as a stand-alone, just like your favorite episodes of a mystery show. Dr. Amy Daniels is a trauma surgeon who moves to Rocky Meadow, VT to escape family tragedy. There she meets, Father Michael Lauretta, the psychologist pastor of St. Francis church and Rocky Meadow Retreat Center. Together, they solve a mystery and search for a killer with the help of Katie, the church cook, Willow, a teenage millionaire, Father Victor, visiting priest from Chicago and Tony Noce, owner of Hasco’s Bar and Grill. In Fatal Breach, the characters become involved with cybercrime and a murder at a local soup kitchen. Sacred Gold is about gold treasure buried in the catacombs of the church. There is murder as well as a race to see who finds it first.

While solving crimes, the main characters deal with life, loss, starting over and developing an appreciation for the friends and loved ones in their lives.

Linda Rawlins lives in New Jersey with her family. When she is not working in medicine, she is writing.

rocky Meadow seriesCome visit at – sign up for my newsletter.
You can also find me on Facebook at , , my Amazon author page… and
Healthy Blessed Reading!

Author Accomplishments

In my real life, I work as a physician in hospice.

The Bench Blurb

The BenchMedical Murder Mystery – Rocky Meadow, Vermont, seemed to be a quiet little town until people started dying or showing up in the emergency room under mysterious circumstances. Dr. Amy Daniels is a trauma surgeon, who recently moved to Rocky Meadow after a family tragedy. There she meets Father Michael Lauretta, a psychologist priest who counsels troubled clergy and pastor of the famous Rocky Meadow Retreat House. Together, they save lives and souls and try to solve a mystery before they become the next target of a greedy killer. Will they be able to put a stop to this deadly rampage? The unexpected conclusion awaits in The Bench.


A great novel By bookcollecter on June 22, 2014
I loved this book for many reasons. The story was solid, believable, engaging, uncluttered and written with authority. The characters were well developed, from the major characters – doctor and priest, to the supporting cast, such as the young girl, who is left a sizable inheritance and has to deal with a destructive, self-serving father.

I found myself reading this without pause for hours on the day I picked it up. I guess this was because I was immersed in the story. I finished reading it with a lasting impression and for this reason will be buying Ms Rawlins next offering. She is a talented writer who manages to bring plot characters and story to live with ease.

Fatal Breach Blurb

FatalActing medical examiner, Dr. Amy Daniels and Father Michael Lauretta become entangled in murder at the local soup kitchen in

Burlington, Vermont. As their intricate relationship develops, they are drawn into a sinister plot as FBI Special Agent Marcus Cain pursues a deadly internet activist group, known as Shepherd Force. They soon learn, the cybercrime organization will stop at nothing to retrieve an illegal flash drive worth millions of dollars.

Sacred Gold Blurb

Sacred Gold CoverAn old journal, revealing hidden treasure at St. Francis Church, falls into the hands of acting medical examiner, Dr. Amy Daniels, and tests her faith in life, love, and trust. With the help of the church pastor, Father Michael Lauretta, they try to solve the century-old mystery. Before long, the two find themselves in the company of a trained Italian curator, desperate to ward off her greedy, possessive boss, who follows her to Vermont and intends to steal the treasure.
Against the backdrop of snowy Rocky Meadow, Vermont, bustling during the Christmas holidays, the remainder of the St. Francis family try to secure a new soup kitchen, only to find charity cannot escape tragedy. When arson and murder lead to a dark, dangerous chase in the catacombs of the church, they all join together to follow age-old clues and find Sacred Gold, before the treasure and more lives are lost forever.

Connect with Linda

Amazon Author Page



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Brain to Books Blog Tour Day 8/#1

Ben Westbrook

Brain to Books Blog Tour

Just the Facts

Author: Benjamin Westbrook

Genre: Mystery/suspense/thriller with a Christian perspective.

Book: “Infringement”. The sequel to Infringement, titled “A Haunt for Jackals” will be released in early 2016.

Official Site


I’ve been a writer and constant reader since about the age of 12 when I read S.E. Hinton’s “The Outsiders” on Christmas Day after getting all of her books as a gift. As I grew up, I worked as a cook, a photographer and finally went to law school, but always held tight to my desire to write novels. Strangely, it was actually graduating from law school (seeing the culmination of three years of hard work) which gave me the push and confidence to finally complete my first novel (which is now being reworked).

I began writing “Infringement” after reading about James Holmes and the Aurora theater shooting. My goal was to write a story about finding and keeping faith in the darkest of circumstances. As I was writing “Infringement”, my now 4-year-old son was diagnosed with leukemia, and began treatment. That experience changed my family’s life drastically, as well as my own faith, and I found myself experiencing exactly what I was trying to write about: faith in the darkest of circumstances. The forthcoming sequel, “A Haunt for Jackals”, continues that theme.

Author Accomplishments

My son is now in remission and is doing wonderfully and our experience with cancer has prompted my wife and I to get more involved in the fight against cancer. I serve as a member of the Board of Trustees for the Gateway Chapter of the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, in St. Louis. We’ve both appeared on the radio discussing our experience, cancer research and fundraisers. I will be riding 37.5 miles in September in Pedal The Cause, which raises money for cancer research and treatment at the St. Louis Childrens’ Hospital. So far, I’ve raised roughly $1,600 towards my goal of at least $2,500.


InfringementStill grappling with his loss of faith and anger towards God following the death of his father while a young boy, second-generation FBI Agent Declan Parker is called to investigate a simple complaint. Quickly discovering a dark undercurrent, Declan is unexpectedly drawn into the world of David Stanton, a man in the final stages of planning the bloodiest mass shooting in history. The lines between “the good guys and the bad guys” become irreconcilably blurred when, during the course of his investigation, Declan stumbles into the midst of a broad, sinister agenda, the aftermath of which will forever change not only his own life, but the lives of all Americans.


5 Stars

Great Story!

By David Carlyle on May 21, 2015

Format: Kindle Edition Verified Purchase

The story is engrossing, but bloody for a Christian book. Mr. Westbrook would have to change the story to have less killing in it, and it’s hard to think how to change it without damage to it. The book definitely keeps the reader wanting to see what happens next, and it’s a top quality book. David Carlyle, “Billy Thomas: Forever Fearless.”

5 Stars


By Michelle Dry on February 8, 2015

Format: Kindle Edition Verified Purchase

Could not put it down. Can’t wait for the continuation of the as story. No telling what will happen next.

5 Stars

Loved the book

By Ziply on January 31, 2015

Format: Paperback Verified Purchase

Loved the book. Easy to read. Could not put it down once I started. Can’t wait for the sequel. Al Matey

5 Stars

Infringement is an intriguing and fast paced book that reads…

By Lisa on January 20, 2015

Format: Paperback

Infringement is an intriguing and fast paced book that reads very quickly! I can’t wait to find out what happens in the next one!

5 Stars

Engrossing, built on today’s domestic and international headlines. Jim and Joan Costello

By Mary J. Costello on January 15, 2015

Format: Kindle Edition

A crisply written adventure based on today’s news and old fashioned faith. Written in the

fast based styles of Baldacci, Vince Flynn, and Dan Silva.

5 Stars

A suspenseful, thought-provoking book!

By S. Middendorf on January 15, 2015

Format: Paperback

I thoroughly enjoyed Benjamin Westbrook’s book Infringement. It was a great combination of a suspenseful FBI story (like the TV drama “24”), an analysis of current events (unrest in the Middle East correlating to Biblical prophesy), and thought-provoking dialogue (honest questions about faith in God). As a Christian, I appreciated the author walking us through the main character’s journey to try to see God during the hardships of life.

I really appreciate that this book entertained me (several exciting scenes had me on the edge of my seat!) and made me think about the current state of the world. I look forward to reading Westbrook’s next book!

5 Stars

A Suspenseful Page-Turner!

By Kimberly Mitchell on January 15, 2015

Format: Paperback Verified Purchase

A fantastic page turner- I couldn’t put it down! In the midst of catastrophic events whether personal or global, this book addresses how we grapple with our faith when bad things happen. The main character, Declan is questioning his own faith after the death of his father at a young age but begins to believe that God is real and present in the midst of the horrible things happening in the world everyday. I love how Westbrook combined suspense with love and family and wove biblical references throughout the novel. I definitely learned a thing or two about the bible that I didn’t know before! If you like the Da Vinci code and the show 24, you will love this book! I can’t wait for Westbrook’s next novel!

4 Stars

Fast Paced Thriller

By E. McCarthy on January 10, 2015

Format: Kindle Edition Verified Purchase

This novel is a psychological thriller and discusses historical events. The main character, Declan, plays a deadly cat and mouse game with a terrorist named Stanton in part one. Part two explores civil unrest because of governmental infringement of constitutional rights.

The ambitious approach of part two left me a bit confused over different characters’ relationships. I think this could be solved by moving some scenes around to part one in order to keep the characters’ lives juggled more evenly.

I liked the fast paced nature of the book. I would have liked to see more descriptions of the people however, and this would have made me empathize even more with them. I always loved how Charles Dickens described characters.

The action is exciting and kept me interested. I continued reading to find out what happened because I cared about the characters, especially Declan.

I loved the scary scenes inside the mind of a terrorist which were handled very well with a touch of explanation of why he was the way he was. I think this was the best part of the book and I liked the parallel between Stanton and Declan.

The writer has a lot of promise. I would recommend a few ideas: lose the few swear words (or use dashes), just say they went for a drink as some people don’t like alcohol references (and why turn off readers), let any physical intimacy be in the minds of the reader (although the scene wasn’t graphic), and cut any scenes of assaults on women entirely as they turn off female readers (it might be mentioned in passing or referred to in conversation. I was able to skim over the very few scenes).

The religious discussion fit the characters. I liked that the characters stayed true to their convictions. Declan’s journey to self-discovery was an interesting part of the novel.

I feel the writer has a talent for tender scenes especially between mother and son and Evan and Jessica who were lesser characters. I would have loved to see more scenes like these.

I would recommend this book to anyone who wants a fast paced and entertaining Christian novel and I enjoyed reading it.

5 Stars

I highly recommend this book

By margaret Moellenberg on December 24, 2014

Format: Paperback

 From beginning to end, “Infringement” keeps the reader engaged and enthralled. It is a fast-paced thriller that I could not put down. Benjamin Westbrook’s debut novel is a real page-turner and one you will want to read over and over again. It hooks you from the first chapter, scares you into thinking someone is always watching and makes you realize nothing is as it seems. I highly recommend this book.




Amazon Author Page


Official Site

Buy Infringement


Chapter 1

December 15th

He worked deliberately and meticulously atop the short ladder in the dark, quietly screwing into place the last of the four bright red “Exit” signs to be replaced. As far back as he could remember, he’d been a night person. He enjoyed working in the darkness, amid the silence and solitude one typically found during the late night hours when most were asleep. There were fewer distractions at night, no people to get in his way or take up his time with their generally meaningless chatter.

He turned the last screw firmly into place, quietly, one rotation after another until the metal screw squeaked against the metal bracket and it could go no further. After he’d finished, he scanned the sign to be certain it was perfectly even, gave each of the four screws another quick turn to verify they were tight, and gently nudged the “Exit” sign from each side to be absolutely sure it was securely in place. Satisfied with his work, he then turned the power switch to “On” and removed his night vision goggles to see the four red letters glowing in the darkness above the doorway. He stepped slowly and quietly down from the ladder, careful not to misstep, and walked to the center of the semi-circular sanctuary where he had a clear view of each of the four “Exit” signs he’d installed. As he’d planned, the new signs looked, in all respects, exactly like the four he’d replaced, except for the tiny HD video camera in each. The camera, located just to the right of the “T”, was totally indiscernible from a distance, unless someone knew to look for it.

Eager to test the new signs, he made his way toward the last row of pews nearest the main entrance of the sanctuary, where he’d left his laptop. He opened the laptop and deftly pulled up the admin page of his website, which was still under construction and hadn’t gone live yet. He clicked on the “Live Webcams” link, which took him to another page split into four window panes, one for each video camera in the “Exit” signs he’d installed. Three of the panes were completely dark, which was expected given the darkness of the sanctuary. The fourth pane, which showed the video feed from the camera in the sign above the main entrance, featured the dim light of his laptop. He couldn’t test the camera views completely until he could return during the day, but he knew, together, they should stream a full 360 degree live view of the sanctuary to his website.

Unable to wait until morning, he decided a small test was in order, so he took his iPad out of his backpack and pulled up his website there as well. Once he’d again accessed the page showing the live webcam feeds from the four “Exit” signs, he walked slowly to the center of the sanctuary, holding his iPad close to his face in order to illuminate it slightly. As he walked toward the main pulpit area, he watched each of the camera views on his iPad, to see when each camera picked up the dim light and his faint silhouette. Although not ideal, it was a sufficient test for the time being, and just seeing his dim silhouette from the cameras’ views gave him a distinct and very pleasing sense of excitement.

Once he arrived at the pulpit area in the center front of the sanctuary, he stepped up the few small marble steps to the main stage, and saw each camera feed had picked up the light from his iPad. From anywhere on the pulpit, he’d be perfectly visible to all four cameras in full light.

He shut down his iPad, leaving the sanctuary pitch black again but for the red light from the “Exit” signs, and slid his night vision goggles back on over his eyes. The pews fanned out in a semi-circle from the large stage, thirty rows deep. He stood in the center of the pulpit, where the preacher typically gave his sermon and prepared communion, and enjoyed an unobstructed view of the entire sanctuary. With his goggles on, he carefully scanned each section of the empty and otherwise dark pews, beginning with those on his left side, until he’d gone through them all one by one. Then, he again removed the goggles and closed his eyes, letting the perfect darkness clear his mind.

He stood facing the pews directly in front of him with his eyes closed tightly, his breath slow and measured. His mind began to focus, his imagination came alive, and one by one the pews were populated with faces. Soon, the faces, some familiar and others not, filled every corner of the almost bursting sanctuary. From the pulpit, he watched them talking to one another, greeting and hugging each other. He heard them chattering back and forth before services began, joking with one another, and laughing. He sensed their warmth, their excitement, their joy. His eyes still closed, he turned slowly and deliberately from his left to his right, watching them intently and letting their faces burn into his memory. He wanted to remember them, to know the joy on their faces down to the very smallest detail, so that when he finally raised his rifle and began spilling their blood onto the glittering marble sanctuary floor, he’d be able to recognize the precise instant when the careless joy in each face turned to horror and fear.

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Brain to Books Blog Tour Day 7/#2

Marc Estes

Brain to Books Blog Tour

Fast Facts:

Author: Marc Estes

Genre: Mystery, Suspense, Thriller

Book: Four Pieces For Power /Rekindle the Flame of The Vendicatori Series

Official Site


Accomplished writer, Marc Estes, is proud to present his award winning debut novel, Four Pieces For Power, Book One of the Vendicatori. Four Pieces For Power marks the first in a series of Vendicatori novels developed by Mr. Estes. He is a two-time winner of the Vermont Playwright’s Award for his plays, What Would Dickens Do?and Glass ClosetsWhat Would Dickens Do? also won the 2012 Robert J. Pickering Award for Playwriting Excellence. His play, Gumbo (adapted from the short story by Charles Huckelbury) was a finalist in the 2011 Safe Streets Arts Foundation Short Play Competition and was presented at the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts. His play The Practice of Killing (co-written with Robert Johnson, and adapted from the short story by Mr. Johnson) has been published in the Spring 2013 edition of Tacenda Literary Magazine. In 2013 he was also awarded the Robert Chesley Award from the Chesley/Bumbalow Foundation in Los Angeles and selected to receive the Artist in Residence Grant from the Helene Wurlitzer Foundation in Taos, New Mexico. His play Going Home was presented  at the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in the Fall of 2014. His second novel, Rekindle the Flame, Book Two of the Vendicatori is scheduled to be released in Spring 2015. Estes is a native of New England and graduate of the University of New Hampshire.

Author Accomplishments

I currently run quarterly promotions where I donate 50% of my royalties to a specific charity. Through June 30th I am working with ASPCA and from July –September I am planning to help the Trevor Project.


Four Pieces For PowerWhen mysterious strangers arrive at the home of Andrew Correo, they provide him with life changing news. He learns of the Vedicatori, a secret organization established by his ancestors, an organization he now has the chance to inherit control over. In order to gain this control, he needs to compete with Robert Stavero in a global scavenger hunt. They must search for four illusive crystals that, when brought together, will tell them their final destination. Also in Edson, Monica Correo is planning a wedding to her love, John Weaver. With the wedding so close to Halloween, the pair decide to have a masquerade ball for the wedding reception. It will be an event no one in Edson will ever forget. With just a clue and limited guidance, both Andrew and Robert set out on their secretive journey. For both, the path leads to mystery, suspense, and self-discovery. As Andrew looks forward to his future, while putting parts of his past behind him, Robert grows greedy and develops a love for deception and hate. The hunt brings them through the ruins of Teotihuacan to the Eternal City and its history, but who will have the cunning to come out on top?


Written by Anita Lock, US Review of Books

“Both shared in the amazement of how two complete strangers could become such bitter enemies without even a single exchange of words.”

Andrew Correo learns the truth about his deceased grandfather and the involvement he had with the Vendicatori, a powerful organization developed to protect the Correo family’s fortune. But in order for Andrew to claim his inheritance as the next Correo heir, he must compete in a challenge against Robert Stavero, an unknown contender and master of disguises. The object of the challenge is for the winner to procure all four pieces of the puzzle that will reveal the “final destination, and the largest prize in the world.” Questions remain whether or not Andrew can keep this perilous competition a secret from his sister and mother, as well as outwit his maleficent opponent.

Awarding winning writer Marc Estes has produced a suspenseful story that has a James Bond feel to it. The first in a series of Vendicatori novels, Estes’ third person narrative is a rapidly paced page-turner filled with un-hackneyed character scenes between his sister’s upcoming wedding; the contest and Andrew’s nerve-racking encounters with Robert, his maniacal antagonist; a bit of romance; and other supporting characters—a few that may seem harmless now but could easily turn into future villains in subsequent sequels. Aside of the constant influx of juxtaposed scenes, Estes not only draws readers into the plot’s action, but also into the lives of a well-developed cast that goes beyond Andrew, Estes’ principal character. Good examples are Brad whose mother and sister were brutally murdered and Jenna who has a thing for Andrew. Estes’ thriller closes with a mind-boggling cliffhanger. Earmarked to be a best-seller, there is no doubt that Four Pieces For Power will keep readers on edge till the very end.



The rain fell hard on the roof as Andrew Correo sat in his study re-reading his favorite classic novel, The Phantom of the Opera. The weather outside set the mood for the story. Andrew planned to sit by himself all morning and afternoon reading the book from cover to cover. The book and its characters filled him with great emotion every time he opened to chapter one. Bayberry Road was a quiet road on the outskirts of Edson. The surrounding serenity motivated Andrew’s family to choose this land and build their home. Seldom would cars explore the old country road, and when one did, it provided just enough noise as it passed to alert Andrew. He heard one such vehicle approaching as it sloshed along the wet road toward his property. He glanced out the window, and looked through the trees surrounding the yard. A long black limousine approached on the road. Its lights reflected on the wet pavement. Andrew never expected to see a limousine on Bayberry Road. The last one had escorted his family to his father’s funeral. Often, a Sunday driver explored and admired the beauty of the road, or the occasional teenagers would venture out on the road at night, seeking the privacy that Bayberry Road could provide. Andrew never thought twice about the juveniles. He remembered doing the same thing as a young man and just let the matter go at that. Edson was a small town. It seldom had troubles and crime. The population of the town topped out at 4,800. Everyone knew everyone else. The Correo Family were no exception to this. They were upstanding citizens of Edson and well respected. From the time the Correo family settled in Edson, they helped the city with donations of their family wealth to whatever causes needed it most. At one point, Andrew’s father was named philanthropist of the year for his contributions to the community. Andrew watched the limousine signal, and then enter his semicircular driveway. Seen from the third story, the driveway mimicked a moat encircling the front yard. He got up and left his study for the front door. His curiosity and excitement stirred him to take two stairs at a time, something he had not done since he was a teenager in school running late for History. As he reached the foyer, he checked himself in the mirror above a small table used to store his car keys. Running his fingers through his thick blond hair, he examined his round face and then stared for a moment into his own blue eyes. He looked fine, not a hair out of place, and ready to greet his guests. He reached the front door as the limousine came to a stop in front of it. Peering out the diamond window in the door, he watched the driver get out. The stranger opened an umbrella as he stood. The rain continued all around him as he hurried along the side of the car to the back, passenger side door. Andrew could not see the rider, or riders, through the car’s black tinted glass. Holding the umbrella both over himself and the car door, the driver pulled up on the door latch. This gave Andrew his first glimpse inside. An older, rather portly man, about fifty by appearance, was the first person to step out. The man’s salt and pepper hair was slicked back, revealing a strong forehead. His thick eyebrows seemed to shadow his large dark eyes as he peered up to the house, making eye contact with Andrew. Andrew continued to study the old man’s features, noticing a strong, broad chin and small firm lips. Two other gentlemen, Andrew’s age of twenty-nine, were next to follow. One had short, dark hair. His eyes were covered by sunglasses, odd on such a cloudy, dreary day.

The other man looked more like Andrew. His blond wavy hair hung down over his forehead, leading down to his light eyes. He looked up to the house and smiled noticing Andrew staring back. Andrew’s interest outweighed his fear. He opened the door for the group as they reached the top step. “Can I help you gentlemen,” Andrew asked in a friendly tone. “Andrew Correo?” The eldest man asked. Andrew stammered, “Yes, can I help you?” “My name is Dominic. I have news about your family.” He looked up at the rain with obvious frustration and continued, “May we come in?” Andrew’s thoughts raced to his mother, Brittany, as he let all four of the men in from the rain. Andrew handled emergencies stoically and remained strong as he prepared himself for bad news. He took their dripping coats and hung them in the foyer closet. The limo’s driver declined Andrew’s gesture to take his coat and turned for the door. He returned to the limousine without a word. Andrew’s anxiety reached its peak. It could only be his mother. His sister, Monica, was fine at home on the other side of town. Brittany and Monica were all he had left. His mother moved to Laguna Beach, California three years before, sick of the snow and the cold in New England. “What’s happened to my mother?” Andrew said, unable to hold his patience. “Your mother?” Dominic questioned. “No my friend, we came to talk to you about your grandfather, Antonio.”

*     *     *

John Weaver stepped out of his shower and reached for his towel. His eyes were shut tight, keeping out any water. After wiping his eyes and face, he walked to the window. He gently separated the blinds with his fingers and glared out at the gray September sky. The leaves on the maple and birch trees in front of his condo were starting to turn light shades of red, orange, and yellow. The rain loosened some of the leaves, forcing them to fall to the ground in the wind. This depressed him. The summer was over and the doldrums of autumn and winter were approaching. He thought of Monica. The thought brought a brightness back to his soul.

He let the drapes fall back into place and began to towel off the rest of his dripping body. Monica Correo dated John for over two years. Regardless of her hints, John just lacked the nerve to ask her to be his wife. Now the time had come. Walking into his adjoining bedroom, naked except for the towel wrapped loosely around his waist, John slid open his sock drawer and found the small, velvet jewelry box. He pulled it out and opened it. A two carat marquis diamond ring sparkled back at him. He looked up from the box to the picture of Monica on his dresser. He smiled and spoke to the photo, “Tonight, Monica, tonight.” He winked at the picture, closed the small black box and placed it back with his socks for safekeeping. Marriage filled his mind. All of his friends supported the move. Asking Monica was the hardest part. John moved back to America from England five years ago after graduating from college in London. He was brought up in a family that believed schooling abroad would enhance his education and give him experiences that he could not have in America. Now, he was the youngest restaurant owner in Edson. Weaver’s became a success and gave John lots of new friends and acquaintances in the area. He dated off and on after arriving in Edson, but no one had affected him as much as Monica. His parents had been right. England had given him several new experiences, just not all beneficial ones. Past relationships had soured him to love. It was hard for him to get involved with any woman, never mind the commitment of marriage. Monica changed all that. She brought him out of hiding and showed him that there was life beyond his past.


Walking into the living room, Andrew and his three guests made themselves comfortable in the overstuffed furniture. Sitting in his favorite chair, Andrew was the first to speak. “My grandfather has been dead since I was nine years old. What could you possibly have to share with me?” “Twenty years ago, your grandfather found his life in Edson too hard to handle along with the other responsibilities he had to see through. He left this life in secret to begin a new one. He left Edson and everyone in it,” Dominic responded. “You’re not telling me my grandfather is still alive? Impossible, it’s just impossible,” Andrew retorted. “Was there ever a burial for your grandfather? A full funeral?” Dominic questioned. “My grandfather died in a car accident. The car exploded, and he was cremated in the car. We buried ashes.” “No body.” Dominic stated, trying to assure Andrew that what he said was true. “I told you he was cremated in the car. There’s no way he survived.”

“Unless the explosion was planned, and Antonio had gotten out of the car just before it exploded over the cliff.” Andrew stared. He hadn’t mentioned Tucker’s Cliff. How did this old man know so much about the accident? “I think I’ve heard enough,” Andrew said, angrily standing and walking to the front door. He expected his now unwelcome guests to follow suit. He turned toward them, “I loved my grandfather and I am proud of every member of family. I don’t have time to listen to you lie and degrade them. I need you to leave.” Dominic removed a small manila envelope from the inner pocket of his overcoat and extended it to Andrew, “Overconfidence can be a dangerous thing.” “So can lies,” Andrew snapped as he grabbed the envelope. He recognized the stationary. The Edson Inn had only been in business for eighteen months. An etching of the Inn along with its address embossed the upper left corner. “He used that to assure you that the letter was recent,” Dominic said, answering Andrew’s next question before he could ask it. “So? You could have written this and forged his signature,” Andrew said, tearing at the mysterious envelope. He didn’t look down. Instead, he stared into Dominic’s eyes, waiting for any sign proving his deceit. Dominic sat stoically, “Read it. It will answer all your questions.” Andrew read aloud:

My dearest grandson, I am sorry for any pain that this news might bring to you. Dominic is an honest man. Unfortunately, I will never be able to see the young man that you have become. If you are reading this, I am already gone. I instructed Dominic to give you this note only in the event of my death. I can only think of one way to prove to you that I do, or at least did, survive the explosion. I remember the last birthday the two of us spent together. You were supposed to have a big party at your house, but Monica had the Chicken Pox. None of your friend’s parents wanted to risk exposing their children to the disease, and forbid them to go to your party. You were crushed. Remember what I did for you? I planned a surprise party for you at the city pool where all of your friends could come and you could have the party you deserved. I made a request of you that day. I told you to love your sister because the day would come when she would be the only family you would have. You were still mad at her, but I think you understood. Today, that prediction is a reality.”

A tear rolled down Andrew’s cheek as he continued.

I truly love you Andrew and I wish things could have been different. Now that I am gone, I realize that it was all for the best anyway. Please, don’t think that I just deserted you or the family. Leaving was the hardest thing I ever did, but I was always there for each of you, just not physically. You were always under my protection. Now it is finally your turn to have the power that I had. I know you will do your best.

All my love, Antonio G. Correo II.

Wiping his eyes and then his nose, Andrew looked up at Dominic. “Please excuse me. You can make yourselves comfortable. I need a moment.” Andrew walked up the stairs to the second floor. His bedroom door now faced him. He entered his room, walked over to his chest, and opened it up. Inside he found all of the things that had great sentimental value to him. After a short search, Andrew found what he was looking for: an old, faded blue envelope protected a small birthday card, browned with age. He removed it from the envelope, and silently read the outside cover to himself. “Happy 9th birthday to my Grandson,” The “9” on the card was a large balloon held by a smiling clown. The clown held a cake with nine candles in his other hand. He opened the card and read the inscription inside,

“Happy Birthday, Andrew. Please don’t be mad at Monica. It’s not her fault. Love her because she is the only sister you have, and someday you will need her to be a sister and a best friend. All my love, Grampa”

It was true. Reality hit Andrew hard. First, he wanted to call Monica, then he wanted to learn more from Dominic. Now, he decided the only thing he wanted to do was be alone. Holding the card, Andrew sat on his bed feeling the tears forming in his eyes. He gave in to the pressure, and in that quiet bedroom, the tears flowed as freely as the rain outside his window.


Monica Correo was a young and attractive woman, with defined Italian features. She was dark haired, with a tan, Mediterranean complexion. Her round, dark brown eyes accented her flawless face and curly black hair. Unlike her brother, Monica showed every sign of her family heritage. She stopped typing at the end of her sentence and stretched back from her slumped position over the keyboard. She ran her fingers through her hair and messaged her neck. Shaking her head to wake herself up, she grabbed for the vibrating cell phone to her left as it skidded over the surface of the desk. Anyone calling Monica always knew to give the phone a couple of extra rings. She never stopped typing half way through a sentence. This time the phone only rang three times, and Monica had a good guess as to who would be on the line. She looked at the small screen and her suspicions were correct. “Hello,” she answered. “Is this the best mystery romance writer in Edson?” the voice stated in response. “Well, that doesn’t say much,” she answered. “I’m the only mystery romance writer in Edson.”

“It’s the thought that counts.” John laughed into the phone. “Can you do me a favor, Monica?” “Anything after such a compliment,” she joked. “What’s up?” John had the whole idea planned out, “My guy that was supposed to help me with inventory had a family emergency. It’s not a hard job but I need to get it done.” “So you need me to count dinner rolls?” “And other things. It shouldn’t take more than a couple hours,” he bribed,” I’ll even make you dinner.” “From the menu or do I have to have one of the specials.” Monica teased. “You can have whatever you want.” “What time do you want me there?” John smiled to himself, “Nine will be good. The dining room will be closed then. How’s the book coming?” “Actually it’s going well,” she responded, reading the few lines on the laptop screen to herself as she talked, “So, I’ll be there at nine. Prime Rib, end cut, as close to medium as you can get it with a ton of fries.” “I’ll have that and the defibrillator ready. Thank you Monica.” “Yeah, Yeah. It’s a good thing I love you.” “I love you too. See you then.” “Yep,” she heard the phone hang up on the line and pushed the END button on her phone. Monica sighed and glanced at the screen shining back at her. She hoped her latest novel would be her best yet. She felt the same for every novel she started. She looked up at the books on her shelf. The Elements of Style, The Writer’s Handbook, and the three of her own novels looked back at her. She reached for her best-seller, Passion in Paradise, and pulled it down. The characters on the cover were kissing while reclining on the shores of a deserted beach. Monica pictured John and herself in that scene. She put her and John in her scenes often. A warm feeling of love rushed through her veins. This feeling of love that she shared with John enabled her to write successful novels. She smiled to herself, realizing that she wouldn’t trade this feeling for anything in the world. She returned the book to its spot on the shelf and once again gazed at her laptop screen. Sunken Pleasures took form in front of her eyes, only about two-thirds complete. She planned it’s completion in time for the Christmas shopping season. At the same time she didn’t want to rush it and risk failure. Lowering her hands back down to the keyboard, she continued typing.

*     *     *

Andrew returned to his guests. He thought it best to know the whole story before he broke the news to his sister, or his mother. Even though he knew Brittany lived for a crisis. No matter the circumstances or facts, she had to be a part of it and develop a conspiracy theory behind it. This would be too much for even her to grasp. Ironic that this revelation was the definition of conspiracy. As Andrew entered the living room, Dominic got up to greet him. Andrew’s puffy eyes affirmed his acceptance. Andrew was ready. “How did my grandfather die?” Andrew cleared his throat, “And how do I know I can trust you?” “He was killed in a plane crash flying back to the compound,” Dominic responded, “We can play the trust game all you want, but right now, I am one of the few people you can trust.” Dominic looked into the eyes of his new charge. “I’m here to help you keep the power in your family. You need to trust me.” “Power. What is this power that you and my grandfather were talking about?” Andrew questioned, reclaiming his seat in the overstuffed chair. Dominic intended to tell him everything. For now though, he could only tell him what he needed to know. “I’m sure you’re aware of your family’s proud Italian history,” Dominic said. “And you are also aware of your family’s exile from the country centuries ago.” “Yes, I know all of that. It was all over the money and political power,” Andrew said,” but this can’t be the power you’re talking about.” “When your family was exiled, some took refuge in the Italian Alps in order to escape persecution while still remaining in their homeland.” “Defying the exile.” Andrew added. “Right, and the ones who stayed behind received a great deal of support from loyalists rebelling against the government. The family retained its fortune. They decided all the money in the family would be used to aid the family through the years, and also help the loyalists who helped them. Augusto Correo, your ancestor, decided the best way to keep this mission alive, would be to pass the money and the political strength down. It would bring happiness and help to others as the family line progressed.” “You’re saying they were some kind of Mafia?” “No,” Dominic smiled, “the Vendicatori are based on the idea that people should be helped when they are in need. While keeping it away from those responsible for their exile. Some of the money has gone astray, but for generations the organization has taken pride in stopping any misuse, and punishing those who tried to misuse it.” “So what does this have to do with me? I’m sure that money was gone centuries ago.” “I’m afraid not,” Dominic interrupted, “the money is still there, and you are the next in line to inherit all of it.” Andrew sat back in his chair, “How much money are we talking about?” “Enough to keep the family tradition going strong for many more generations,” Dominic replied. “And now it’s mine?” Andrew asked, still unsure of Dominic’s story. “Not quite,” Dominic responded, “You need to go on a journey first.” “Journey?” “When your grandfather oversaw the Vendicatori, many members of the organization felt that another family should have the opportunity to control it. This caused him to stage his death in Edson. He had to prove to the Vendicatori that he could maintain it the way it should be maintained. He consistently tried to fight the new resistance.” “Of course. There has to be a resistance.” Andrew smiled in sarcasm. Dominic remained serious. “As I said, some of the money went astray. Some families within the Vendicatori wanted to form a new alliance; a new faction with a new mission. They wanted to use the money for their own gains and they tried hard to achieve their goals.” “So they killed him for real?” “Quite possible. Francis Stavero, lead the resistance. He was behind the murder, I’m sure. Francis and the resistance forced your grandfather to develop a challenge in his will that would determine who would inherit the money and the Vendicatori. “And he killed my grandfather before he could change his will back.” “We don’t know. Stavero went down in the same plane as your grandfather.” “Then what makes you think he was responsible for my grandfather’s death?” Andrew questioned. “Seems to me if I was going to kill someone in a plane crash, I would be far, far away from the plane.” “We don’t believe he was meant to be on that plane. Perhaps even the resistance has a resistance.” “So what is in the will?” “You must compete to win the inheritance. You just need to complete the challenge before Robert.” “Who is Robert? And what is the challenge?” “Robert Stavero, is Francis’ grandson. As we speak, He is being told this same story. The challenge is Quattro pezzi per potere.” Dominic translated, “Four Pieces for Power.”


The rain blew around furiously outside the window on Beacon Street. The Charles River across the street, looked more like the ocean as the wind made waves crash against the shoreline. Robert Stavero sat in silence listening to the story that three mysterious men were telling him about family heritage and power. The man with all of the answers was Ramos. The aura around him made Robert feel uncomfortable, and yet Ramos had known so much about him and his life. He felt compelled to trust him. Robert was raised in Boston. His father oversaw a lot of the activity in the Combat zone before it was “cleaned up”. Robert had seen men of this type many times, but none quite fit the caliber of Ramos. Ramos was a young man, well versed in the ways of the Vendicatori. His jet black hair and deep brown eyes added to his shady appearance. His face was round, yet rigid. A man with a purpose. Standing, Robert walked over to the mirror on the wall above the fireplace. He straightened his tie, shifted his paisley suspenders, and took a glance at his gel-slicked hair. To Robert’s frustration, his hairline receded a bit above his dark eyes. His thin long face accentuated his height, from his dark eyebrows to the deep dimple in his chin.

Turning back on Ramos, Robert spoke, “You mean to tell me that I have to take part in this scavenger hunt against a guy I’ve never met before. And if . . . that’s a big if . . . I win, I’ll have all the money I can know what to do with.” “Correct,” Ramos said. Still believing this whole thing was a joke, Robert smiled, “All right. I’m game. Where do I sign up? I need a little excitement in my life.” Ramos reached into the inner pocket of his coat and pulled out an envelope. Expecting the end of the joke, Robert took the envelope and opened it. He unfolded the cryptic letter and read it out loud:

“South of the border is where you’ll begin. There you will find the first key, the first step to a win. They are found in Egypt as well as to the west. Near the capital city is the first stop of your quest. Look toward the sun and you will find, the key that will unlock the door of a different kind.”

Robert looked up, realizing this wasn’t the end of the joke. He began to believe it wasn’t a joke at all. The second man reached in his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. He handed it to Robert. Robert felt its hefty weight and awkward shape. “It’s your first piece,” the man said. “Andrew Correo has been given the same clue and a piece of his own. It is up to you to get the remaining two pieces before him, then retrieve his piece in any way you can. Once you have all four of the pieces, they will fit together and show you your final destination, and the largest prize in the world.” “Well, I guess I should get packed and call the airport,” Robert replied. “All travel costs are covered for you,” Ramos assured, “One of us, primarily myself, will be with you at all times.” “Even better,” Robert smiled and started for his room to pack. “Robert.” Ramos called out. Robert turned on the stairs looking back, “Yea.” “When you win this you will be one of the most powerful men in the world.” Robert thought a minute. He liked the sound of that.

*     *     *

Looking up from his piece and clue, Andrew was taken aback. “Mexico?” he questioned. “Why there?” “We don’t ask questions. Our instructions were to guide you, and make sure that you gain control and win this. Can I help you pack?” Dominic replied. Without an answer, Andrew headed for the stairs once again. This time, Dominic followed. They both reached Andrew’s room and began packing. Andrew packed light. He knew the southern sun would do its part and keep him warm. No need for heavy clothing. “There is one more thing we need to discuss,” Dominic said. Andrew stopped. “I don’t think I can handle another surprise today, Dominic.” “No more surprises, I promise. I just need you to know this whole thing has to be kept secret. No one can know, not even Monica or Brittany. “ It no longer surprised Andrew when Dominic came out with information, like names, that he had no way of knowing. “Agreed. The more I think about it, I don’t think they could handle the truth anyway.”

*     *     *

Evening began to blanket Edson. This day, the sunset went unnoticed because of the gloom from the rainclouds. Monica looked up from her laptop to glance at the clock. It was 6:52. She finished up her final thoughts so she could get ready for her work date with John. She picked up her cup of coffee, still half full and long cold from when she had poured it nine hours before. She carried it to the kitchen sink. Looking out her kitchen window, she watched the last of the day give in to the night as her backyard surrendered to the dark. She remembered the night she met John for the first time. It had been a rainy night, similar to this night. Monica had been having car troubles out on route 4. Soaked to the bone, she stood outside of her car looking under the hood. She somehow hoped that if she stared at the engine long enough, it would tell her what was wrong. At least it would help pass the time until AAA arrived. John drove up, saw her in distress, and stopped to offer her some assistance. Regrettably, John wasn’t very mechanical either.

Deciding to leave the cure for the car up to AAA and their tow truck, John offered to give Monica a ride home. The chemistry between the two was immediate. They were like old friends and talked all the way back to Monica’s. Their chance encounter would lead to a long lasting relationship. Turning the water off at the sink, Monica left the kitchen and went to her bedroom to get changed out of her sweats. She knew that the evening was going to be special. Every evening with John was special. The phone rang as she struggled to fasten the clasp on her necklace. She gave up, putting the necklace back on her dresser, and reached for her phone. Andrew’s picture smiled at her from the screen. “Hello,” she answered. “Hi, Monica. I wanted to let you know that I’m going on a short trip to Mexico.” “Mexico? What’s in Mexico?” “Just a pleasure trip. I feel like getting away for a few days. Autumn always depresses me, you know that.” “How long will you be gone?” “Just a few days. I wanted to let you know in case you stopped by or my phone was out of a service zone.” “I don’t know about you, Andrew, kind of spur of the moment isn’t it?” “That’s me Mr. Spontaneous.” “Still thinking about Colleen?” With everything going on, Colleen wasn’t even in Andrew’s mind, but he quickly realized it would make a good cover, “Let’s just say I’m trying to put my past behind me.” “You loved Colleen and she loved you. You shouldn’t try to forget about her. You couldn’t do it. I’m glad to see your trying to go on with your life though. I’m sure that’s what she would want.” “I know. I gotta go.” “Well, have a good time Andrew. I’ll stop by the house now and then until you get home to make sure everything is safe.” “I’ll have the alarm on, so be careful when you come in. I’ll talk to you later. I’ll call when I get back.” “Talk to you then. Stay safe.” It bothered him that he had to use Colleen’s memory as a cover. Colleen was the biggest part of his life even years after her death. He still struggled to move on without her. He thought about Colleen’s brother, Brad, and her mother, Brenda. They were his second family. Only Brad survived now. Andrew felt an obligation to watch over him, and Brad felt the same about Andrew. Andrew made it his mission to help Brad move on. This helped him avoid his own issues and, deep down, he knew it. Andrew looked out the window at the falling rain. This mission was exactly what he needed.



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Brain to Books Blog Tour Day 7/#1

Kim Troike

Brain to Books Blog Tour

Fast Facts:

Author: Kim Troike A.K.A. Caroline Clemens

Genre: Contemporary Fiction

Book: Into the Vines from the Vintage Bleu Trilogy

Official Site


Kim TroikeKim Troike is a female author residing in Atlanta, Georgia. She has written fiction in the adventure, mystery, romance and contemporary genres. Her latest epic novel is “Into the Vines” which includes award winning Bleu Moon, published by XLibris in January 2015 and available as an e-read or print on Amazon.

Previous published works of Kim Troike are “String The Cranberries” and “Kiss Ride” both are novellas available as e-reads on Amazon. She’s a blogger and previously a part time journalist. Occasionally, she pens poems or children’s stories using the pen Caroline Clemens.

Kim has worked most of her life as a nurse in the acute settings of the Intensive Care Units. Her journey in life met with some struggles and many wonderful people along the way. She combines this storytelling in poetic and intricate words woven to master the English language. Read her compelling and unique stories of children, families and love; anything that makes the world go forward.

She is a member of the Georgia’s Writer Association, honorary winner of the London and Los Angeles Book Festivals for Bleu Moon, participant of Georgia Red Clay Writer’s Conferences, nominated Georgia Author of the Year for Bleu Moon, and uses gardenlilie and theivorytide as profile names on social medias for the net.


Into the Vines A family is formed on a vineyard through extreme circumstances after a pilot rescues persons around the globe from disasters!


December 23rd, 2012

RSVP: Marie and Nicolas

*complimentary Vineyard Stay

“How many have responded?” he asked.

“Marie told me about forty family and friends responded, with ten additional from the vineyard Christmas guest book,” Brie answered.

“So with us that makes about sixty with all of us. There should be plenty of room if everyone is spread out amongst the two floors,” Olivier said.

“Two . . . floors?” she asked.

“Yes, you didn’t go upstairs?” he asked.

“Upstairs, you mean the bedrooms?” she answered.

“Brie, there is a large dance floor with piano and band area. A small bar for parties,” he said surprised she had not seen this.

“Really, you have a dance floor on the second floor?”

“Yes, you’re going to like it, if you like to dance.” He raised his eyebrows a little.

“I thought Marie would use the front hall and guest receiving area for the reception,” Brie said.

“Back in the day, they built these dance halls upstairs to entertain the guests and to look out over the vineyards. To entertain themselves and enjoy the festivities! You’ll see,” Olivier said.

“Did your brother and sister also hire a band?” Brie asked.

“Surprises, Brie, let’s just be surprised,” Olivier answered. Brie smiled. She liked surprises.

Brie looked out the window at the snow coming down; it made the countryside look beautiful. The moon was about half full, but bright, as it lit up the homes and chateaus. In the distance, she could see a very large, old chateau and she wondered who built these. They seemed so magical. She decided she needed to look at a book and read about this part of France. Marie’s gift shop probably had one. She should buy it for Olivier, and then he could fill in all the extras with his knowledge of the area. She looked over at Olivier, and he was in full control over his emotions. He seemed fine, no further episodes of dreaming or waking up to terror as of late. He was calm, happy, and not missing the missions. He was focused on the future, the new vineyard he purchased, their wedding, and even talks of children. Brie wasn’t sure what the future held, but she knew one thing: she would not worry because that didn’t help anyone.


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Brain to Books Blog Tour Day 6/#2

Ella Drayton

Brain to Books Blog Tour Ella Drayton

Fast Facts:

Author: Ella Drayton

Genre: Mystery/Thriller

Book: The Letters

Official Site


Ella DraytonWriter. Book Critic. Mother. Animal Lover. Twitter addict. Insomniac.

Ella is from a very small town in Alabama. When she is not day dreaming about her next story she spend most of her time caring for a Tiny Tyrant and her furry best friend, Mutt. Her house and her electronics are cluttered with books she’s read, books she’s reading, and books to be read. She also pretends to be a housewife in her spare time, occasionally cooking and cleaning for a wonderful husband who never complains. Writing and reading are her two biggest passions other than pretending to be a T-Rex princess pony that can only eat pink Starburst with her little one. Ella also uses movie quotes and song lyrics constantly in conversation and freaks out/passes out at the sight of slugs.


The LettersBrodie Barrett is a widowed mother of a 10 year old girl and a homicide detective for the Birmingham Police Department. Everything seems fine in her world until her ex-fiance, Keaton Maddox walks back into her life. She’s ready to start a new life with Keaton but he’s also got a pregnant girlfriend working at his restaurant. Things at work start heating up for Brodie when someone decides to send her love letters at work. These aren’t your ordinary love letters, though! These letters leave clues for Brodie to find bodies of her admirer’s victims. Who could be sending these letters and why do they want Brodie to find the bodies?

Book Review:
“For me, the mystery within The Letters carried just the right amount of weight. The story was well paced, offered plenty of provocative details to keep me enticed, and happily kept me guessing. Pacing is an important detail for me as a reader; based upon the pacing of this book, I look forward to reading more by Ms. Drayton.” – Cary Ellen Kramer

“I liked this book. It overcame something of a hurdle I’ve had in enjoying mysteries for a long time: patterns of clues and behaviors that don’t hold up when you consider that cell phones and the Internet both exist. I’ve often worried that the onward march of tech was going to lead to the end of mysteries of the kind I used to love, but I’m now reassured that the art of writing good mysteries is alive and well.” — John Blackport


“What do you want?”

“Feel like company?”


“Too bad. I’m at your front door.”

“Go away.”

“I’m using the key.”

“Shove that key up your ass.”

I heard the phone go dead and then my front door opening. Walker had been my best friend since junior high. I had given him that key after my husband, Grayson, had been kidnapped and killed by a man who had been stalking me. His body was found on our fifth wedding anniversary.

I decided since Walker was already in my house and there was no chance of going back to sleep, I might as well get up off the couch. I walked into the bathroom and flipped the switch nearly burning my eyes with the fluorescent light that flooded the room. As I was about to brush my teeth, he appeared behind me in the mirror. Walker, who was a chubby kid in high school, had become a muscular gym rat. He traded in his shaggy brown hair for a bald head, stopped fighting the beard that kept trying to grow (he kept it very closely shaved, however), and wore most of his designer clothes so tight that you didn’t have to imagine what that muscular body might look like without them. At nine forty-five in the morning, he looked like an Abercrombie model in his light pink button down shirt and faded jeans with the holes strategically placed down the legs. I looked like shit.

“You’re really rocking that whole t-shirt and sweatpants look. Nice bun, too, grandma.”

“Who left your cage open?”

“I was just wondering how you comb your hair so the horns don’t show.”

“Gee, you’re hilarious. Have you ever thought about doing stand-up? What do you want? This is supposed to be my off day. As in, I’m off from everything. I do not exist to the rest of the world. It’s just supposed to be a ménage trios between me, the couch, and my TV.”

“A ménage, huh? I didn’t know you were into such kink. I could make that a lot more fun for you, you know?

“Oh, Walker,” I said between strokes of my toothbrush. “I’m not your type, sugar. I’m not inflatable.”

“I wish there were words to describe how much of an ass you are.””

“There are. They just aren’t covered in ‘Run, Spot, Run’ so you’re not familiar with them.”

“Ha Ha. Wash your face and let’s get something to eat. My treat?”

My eyebrows shot up and I stopped wiping my mouth on my towel. Walker was apparently up to no good. He never offered to pay for anything unless he was trying to talk me into something or sweeten the blow of something he’d done. He’d purchased my senior prom dress and brought it to my house in the hopes that I wouldn’t be pissed at him for breaking my date’s nose two days before the prom. I can also remember two separate occasions that he paid for a weekend vacation at the beach to make up for backing into my car and for setting my custom built shooting house on fire. The stories of how these two instances actually came about were still kind of vague. Needless to say, Walker was an accident waiting to happen and believed that money could smooth anything over.

“Your treat means something is up.”

“You always were a smart one. Hurry up.”







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Brain to Books Blog Tour Day 6/#1

J.S. Burke

Brain to Books Blog Tour

Fast Facts

Author: J.S. Burke

Genre: Young Adult Science Fantasy

Book: The Dragon Dreamer of the Dragon Dreamer Series

Official Site


J.S. BurkeI have worked as an artist, chemist, teacher, and as a marine biologist, studying creatures of the dark abyss and diving on coral reefs. I toss lightning with dragons and quest across the sea. I’ve published five marine research papers, two hands-on chemistry books for children, one art/science activity/coloring book, and one science fantasy novel.

I was manager of a marine research program for the Florida Department of Natural Resources. I have degrees in Math, Science, Marine Science, and Education, with certification to teach Math, Science, Middle Grades, and Gifted.

 Author Accomplishments:

I have a free math/science/art lending library for local teachers and homeschoolers with my books and classroom sets of crystals, kaleidoscopes, shark’s tooth, etc. Crystal Geometry has hands-on activities that use the angles of beautiful crystals to explore chemistry and geometry. Crystal Colors has math and science activities with shells, crystals, and a huge fossil shark’s tooth. Other writers shared their craft knowledge with me; I have passed this along with constructive reviews and occasional edits for other authors.

Book Blurb:

The Dragon DreamerTHE DRAGON DREAMER is a young adult science fantasy/adventure with flying dragons and an undersea world, layered for readers age 9 to 99. A secret gift. An unlikely friendship. A dangerous quest.

Arak is a misfit, called “Dreamer” and tormented by other young dragons. Determined to prove himself he leaves on a dangerous quest, is caught in a fierce sea-storm, and crashes on ice. Wounded and alone, he faces death. Then a fearless, undersea shape-shifter named Scree heals him, and an unlikely friendship begins. When an undersea volcano erupts it triggers a towering tsunami and a deadly chain of events. Can Arak use his unique talents to save the dragons?

Book Review by Maranda on Amazon

I really enjoyed this fantasy journey. The plot was good, filled with lots of action and excitement to keep things moving along, but my favorite things about the book were the characters and the author’s gift for detail.

To me, characters are what truly make a book engaging, regardless of the genre, and I immediately found myself invested in Arak and Scree. As the book went on, many other characters appeared but I think Arak and Scree remained my favorites throughout. I have always been fascinated by “healers” so that element about Scree appealed to me greatly. I found it kind of unique to have an octopus as a main character in a fantasy book about dragons, but I felt that it worked well.

As for the detail, I mention that because the author truly has a gift for painting scenes with words. I love books where I can really picture what is going on in my head and for some reason, that definitely worked for me with this book. Even though this book is technically a middle grade fantasy, I think young adult and adult audiences would greatly enjoy the tale as well!


“Please be careful.” Orm’s arms curled and uncurled with anxiety. “It’s not safe to be alone, away from the pod.”

Scree sighed. It was unnatural to travel alone. Most octopi appreciated the security of a village, with its seafood farms and sturdy dens. Each spring, many thousands of octopus eggs hatched. The tiny hatchlings drifted far from home on sea currents. Few survived. Orm was a young juvenile on the return migration when a shark tore by and killed all of his comrades. Scree still saw the haunting memory in his eyes. He could not believe that anything she found was worth the terrible risk of exploring. She twined two arms affectionately with her mate. “Your research can be done here, but I must leave to gather healing supplies.”

Orm handed her a large pearl. “For luck.”

“A black pearl . . . that’s new. It’s beautiful.” She placed it in her bag and looked into his eyes. “I will be careful.” Scree flowed away into the darkness.

Scree pulsed through the inky dark waters toward the starlit surface, seeking rare items for her healer’s bag. She also sought solitude and the magic of the stars, which shone in their full glory during the new moon. Few octopi ventured so far from home. Fewer still risked the dangers of a journey through open water, with no place to hide.

Scree twirled beneath the starry sky. Then she headed for a small ice floe that she’d found earlier, where a weathered branch protruded.

A golden streak seared the dark sky. A falling star! Her eyes widened as it plunged toward the small ice sheet, growing to the size of a shark. The crash shattered the night, rocking the ice and almost knocking her off her log seat. The star flopped, in a very un-starlike manner.

Scree had never seen anything like it. She instantly camouflaged, changing her color to match the log perfectly. Scree could stretch about two feet across between the tips of her arms. But this frightful, alien creature must be at least eight feet long and it had gleaming sharp claws. She trembled and flowed away, matching the log as she moved, invisible.

Scree glanced back, ready to slip into the sea, hanging by the tip of one arm.

The creature writhed.

Scree stopped. It looked more dangerous than a shark, but it must have been injured in such an incredible fall. She felt the weight of her healer’s bag, and the responsibility. She struggled to look beyond the deadly claws, noticing instead the crimson splashes of blood that stained the snow.

Scree rippled back onto the branch.

Connect with J.S. Burke

Jenny S. Burke




Buy The Dragon Dreamer

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“Like” my Facebook author page from your home page (or like three posts on my author page if you’ve previously liked the page) and leave a message here: You will be entered into a random drawing for one of THREE free kindle copies of The Dragon Dreamer. Winners will be contacted within three days after the event.

See additional Giveaways for the Brain to Books Summer Blog Tour here at Lu J. Whitley’s site!

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Brain to Books Blog Tour Day 5/#2

Sylvie Nickels

Brain to Books Blog Tour

Fast Facts:

Author: Sylvie Nickels

Genre: modern fiction with emphasis on reconciliation, effects of war, positive attitude towards aging

Book: It’ll be Better Tomorrow

Official Site 

BioI started writing as a child in World War Two, and have barely stopped since. Much of it has been as a travel writer for major UK newspapers and magazines. More recently I have returned to my first love of writing fiction and have self-published several novels, two anthologies of short stories, and a true adventure (The Big Muddy – a canoe journey down the Mississippi with my late husband).

A recurrent theme has been the effect of war on the children and grandchildren of participants (as in my trilogy ‘Another Kind of Loving’, ‘Beyond the Broken Gate, and ‘Long Shadows; and, more recently, ‘The Other Side of Silence’). Reconciliation is also a recurrent theme as is my belief that it is better to be part of the cure than part of the problem. My first attempt at a YA novel deals with the problem of addiction. ‘It’ll be Better Tomorrow’ is my most recently anthology and puts the matter of aging in a positive light.

I currently have two further projects in my mind. One is yet another anthology, this time venturing into the world of semi-fantasy and parallel universes. The other is concerned with the growing problem of dementia in what is a massively increasing number in our aging population in the UK (and probably the world). Having cared for a husband with mild dementia, with all the humour and frustrations that go with short term memory loss, I am also keenly aware that beneath the illness remains a very worthwhile companion and friend. His long term memory remained phenomenal and has led me to create a new type of hero for my next book: a man with mild dementia who provides the solutions to a mystery involving identity theft.

Author Accomplishments

My late husband (my best mate George died in February 2013) and I travelled widely, walked a great deal and were responsible for creating a marked circular walk in our corner of England (north Oxfordshire).

My Swiss grandfather was a forester and I was responsible for the creation of a wood in the same part of England: very small but it has added a new small green patch to the map of our county. It belongs to a national charity called the Woodland Trust, but we had to raise a lot of money in a hurry to qualify for their planting of the trees – all native trees and now – nearly 20 years later – looking really splendid. It’s a great magnet for walkers and children.

I belong to and am active in U3A (not sure if it exists in the U.S., but it’s an organisation for retired people, organising groups with shared interests such as writing, art history, philosophy). If you don’t have it, I suggest you start it (they will have a website).

At nearly 85, I guess my stamina isn’t quite what it was!


Read reviews at The Book Bag

Read reviews at S. Nickle’s Books


The older generation don’t always get a good press, but some of them are quite remarkable. For example, teenager Buzz was blown away when he found how his Granny Em had put his lessons on computing to very unusual use (Grannies dot com). Harry Briggs was another one who managed to turn the tables with a little help from his grandson and modern technology (Wake Up Call). In contrast, Elli (The Class of ‘65) and Phillida (The Don’t Care Generation) had both left an impression on the Third World; Alice learned at last to stand up for herself (The Wrong Track), Robert Sinclair kept his exploits to himself (Reluctant Hero), and Astra finally solved the mystery of her father’s World War Two trauma (Just Nineteen Days). But maybe the last word remains with Ben whose mantra provided the title for this book. When pushed about his uncertain future, he unfailingly said “It’ll be Better Tomorrow.”

These are some of the stories of Manorfields’ residents, their relatives and their carers. There is humour, poignancy, even romance, but above all they demonstrate that life is very often stranger than fiction.




Amazon Author Page

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Brain to Books Blog Tour Day 5/#1

Janet Roberts

Brain to Books Blog Tour

Fast Facts

Author: Janet Roberts

Genre: Historical Love Story

Books: ‘The Clumber Love Story’

Official Site


Janet RobertsI live in Nottinghamshire, right in the middle of England, not far from Robin Hood’s haunt of Sherwood Forest!

As a frail child I was unable to gain popularity at school by being good at sports, but instead I was the class story-teller, a good training for a writer!  In those days we were given ‘set books’ to study, often Dickens or something similar, and at the end of the year we would be examined about the story/characters etc.  A lot of my class never read the books, they just relied on me to tell them what was going on, using different voices and expressions, so that the story was alive and vivid for them!

Later I started writing stories for women’s magazines, and once the children were grown I began to write more seriously, for national magazines, finding my interest was increasingly in historical facts.

I wrote this book after going to a slide evening held at our local library.  The historian would put up a picture, and the audience would enthusiastically call out the location and name of the subject – until he showed a picture of a small, somewhat dark building, that had got everyone puzzled.  After much encouragement from the speaker, someone tentatively suggested it was ‘that strange building near Milton Moor’.  This was correct – it was in fact the Milton Mausoleum, which I, and I think most of the audience, had never heard of.  The speaker then showed a picture of a marble statue, showing a reclining woman holding two babies, one in each arm.  No one had a clue where this was, but he assured us it was within the Mausoleum!

This was something I just had to see, the statue was so lovely.  However, on going to visit a few days later, I discovered the sad little building locked and totally inaccessible.  It was a very long time before I saw the statue for myself, but I had established that I could find out more about it by going to Nottingham University and studying the diaries of the 4th Duke of Newcastle – the chap who had commissioned both the Mausoleum and the statue.

What an adventure that turned out to be!  Not only did I have to look on the map to find out where the University was located, but on arrival I had to have an interview, to established that I was a serious student, and of good character! Only then was I given a Reader’s Card, and told I was limited to a pencil and a notebook, and then the ordering system explained.  With the help of the librarian I selected the first surviving diary of the 4th Duke, and a white-coated porter eventually appeared, bearing the precious book on a white pillow!  This was placed before me, and I was aware of being watched like a hawk as I carefully opened the precious book, to discover that the very first surviving words, written in the Duke’s distinctive handwriting were: May 27th 1822: On this melancholy day we have lost our dear child Anna-Marie – about a week and two days since she complained of weakness and no appetite.”  How sad was that!

Many years later I became a guide at the Mausoleum on the couple of days a year when it was open, and people were captivated to hear the story of this most loving couple.  I am delighted to say that a ‘Friends of the Mausoleum’ has recently been formed, the building has been much improved (even with glass in the windows instead of being boarded) and it is open several Sundays a month – so many more people are seeing the statue and hearing the story behind its commission.

Author Accomplishments:

As well as writing e-books and booklets, I am kept busy with the Local Talking Newspaper for the Blind, an excellent organisation that I have been involved with for several decades. Over that time I have carried many different roles, but now I concentrate on producing scripts to be read onto CD’s or Memory Sticks.  The challenge is not so much writing the feature, or even getting it the right length, but endlessly thinking up suitable topics which would appeal to people who are blind, remembering that for some this has been for a lifetime, for the majority it is something that has developed together with old age.  This week I have chosen a section from the excellent book ‘Consider the Fork – A History of Invention in the Kitchen’ by Bee Wilson.  I was also very fortunate in being able to track down this author, who has most kindly said I can quote directly from the book, with the necessary credits of course, but this has saved a lot of work, as well as capturing her delightful style.
Every week I also go to ‘Healing Hands’ a group that has been functioning in nearby Mansfield for some 18 years.  It’s run on a drop-in basis for members of the general public, and Reki is offered by trained practitioners.  My role is running the library of what I hope are suitable, and very mixed books, with something for everyone.  I also think it’s important to be sociable and welcoming, especially during tea and biscuits at the end of the afternoon, for many people are lonely and this might be their only interaction for several days. Most importantof all, I am responsible forsending Distant Healing.  I became increasingly aware that not everyone could come to a healing session, and knowing that many churches run healing books, we also offer this  service.  I like people to write the name of the person in the book themselves, as this makes it more personal, and I prefer not to know anything about the problem, my reasoning being that if a person has, say, a diagnosis of cancer, not just the site will be affected, but the whole person’s mental and physical well being will be in turmoil.  A holistic approach I feel is most suitable  I also have no problem with people adding animals to the list, after all they too are part of God’s creation, although I do find it easier to visulise if I know if Sparky is a dog, cat or a horse!  As a direct result of this work, I wrote the small handbook
‘The Power of Distant Healing’ details of which you can on my web page.
In additon my friend and I are collectors for the charity ‘Tools with a Mission’.  The idea is that when someone has an unwanted item, such as a knitting or sewing machine, carpentry tools or an old typewriter, rather than just throwing it away, we go and collect it. This excellent charity refurbishes everything, and then it is sent to Africa, where people can start their own business.  This seems so much more sensible than just sending money.  This way they can feed and educate their children for years, rather just having a meal for a day. For more information please see
My friend lives with me, after a terrible 50 years of abuse and maltreatment.  I told them that the past may have been rubbish, but for however long we had left we would do everything that sounded like fun!  Consequently my blog: chronicles some of our adventures, and tells fellow travellers what I thought of the places we visit.

Book blurb:

Cover - Clumber Love StoryThe 4th duke of newcastle was a sad and unhappy man until he met and married 18 year-old georgiana in 1807. he took his 18 year old bride to clumber house, a fine mansion in the middle of sherwood forest.
tragically their idyllic marriage ended with her death at the age of 33 but his thoughts and plans remain vividly in the diaries he wrote at the time.
these form the basis for this ebook

Book Excerpt:

30th January 1822:  Today is my birthday.  I have this day completed my 38th year.  A heavy cloud hangs over me, and affects me greatly.  I cannot help comparing my situation now to what has been in former years.  On this day I used to receive the earliest congratulations of my dearest wife, enhanced by a thousand kindnesses and amiable attentions.  Now what a change, a dreary blank…’

Where to buy the book:

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Brain To Books Blog Tour Day 4/#3

This and That

Brain to Books Blog Tour

This and That

I have a few days planned for this blog tour that I’ve set aside for a little something extra to share. A collection of poems and excerpts from one of our featured authors, Ed Ireland.

authorpic Ed Ireland is a gypsy wanderer with a passion for words. His life has taken quite a few twists and turns, some happy and some on the regrettable side. It all shows up in his collection of short stories and
poems, Forgotten Treasure. Each story and poem strikes a nerve of some event in his life or shows his ability to fascinate or confound his readers.
The poetry is inspired by emotions. Anger, joy, love and spirituality all find their way out in them. The short stories are studies in different genres. There is humor in the Wiki-esque biography of Popeye the Sailor and the irreverent “When the Music Stops”, fantasy in the “Bonds of War” and drama in “Silver Lining”. No matter what hits the chord with you, chances are you’ll find it in this book. Reviewers have said “Every part of this book has something interesting to say. The poetry especially is quite outstanding, really speaking to the heart.” and “Reading through this book encouraged a wide range of emotions and feelings, and that to me is a sign of a good book.”
Forgotten Treasure will be available for free at for
the duration of the tour. You can also visit Ed’s website and join his member’s area for news on when
Forgotten Treasure 2 will be available.

Excerpt from Forgotten Treasure:

Treasure6“My Regret” by Ed Ireland

In the twilight times of my days
I sit solitary, surrounded by the voices
Of a thousand wrongs I’ve done
Chastising and screaming for honor to be restored
Honor lost never to be regained
Such is the price of fear
Lost in the twilight times of my hours
Surrounded by the specter of loneliness
Gripped by the cold hands of self-imposed punishment
My strongest regrets are the loves I let slip
Through my unwieldy hands
And my unopened heart
Until finally in the twilight of my minutes
The stone hearts of the multitude open
Their searching eyes resting on what is left of my soul
Their grasping hands reach to render my life
All thoughts turn to you
And the hope you saw the child
And forgave my fear

A little something by H.L. Burke

This is from Thaddeus Whisker’s, a YA fantasy by H.L. Burke.

Thaddues Whiskers and the DragonThaddeus F. Whiskers is a pampered palace pet, a kitten enchanted to never become a cat. Princess Clarice loves him, for in the entire kingdom, there is no other kitten as cute or as clever. He leads a life of cushions and cream until a wizard’s “gift” results in his banishment. Determined to make it back to the princess he loves, he escapes into the wilderness where he discovers the lair of a dragon.

Grandious, the dragon, doesn’t care about anything besides himself. He wants to be left alone with his treasure. However, there is something about Thaddeus that has him entranced. He finds himself opening his home and his heart to the little cat.

Thaddeus is a small creature in a big world. Between him and his beloved Princess stand conniving wizards, would-be-step-mothers, and rampaging rats. However, when danger threatens both Clarice and Grandious, Thaddeus won’t allow his size to get in the way of saving his friends.


For the first several steps, the floor was damp, slick stone, but as he moved inward the ground dried. The warm red glow flickered like the fire in a hearth, one of Thaddeus’s favorite things. He glanced up and stared at the great stalactites jutting from the ceiling like teeth. His tiny mouth dropped open. He put a paw forward, and the ground slipped beneath him with a clinking sound. He stepped again. Clink, clink, clink came each paw-fall. He nudged at one of the strange pebbles, flat and perfectly round, smooth and cold, gleaming in the fire light.

Coins? Thaddeus didn’t have much use for such things, but he knew humans liked them. He vaguely remembered when Hermes had chosen him from a farm cat’s litter to be the princess’s gift. Hermes had given the farmer two of these coin things, and the farmer had seemed quite pleased–even though Hermes had clearly gotten the better end of that deal.

Coins were cold, hard, and not tasty. What was the use of such objects? No wonder they’d been left in a cave.

The only treasure that interested Thaddeus was the source of the light. Light meant fire. Fire meant warmth. Warmth meant dry. Also, someone must have started the fire, which meant there might be humans there. Humans who could feed and care for him.

Water dripped from Thaddeus’s whiskers. He left wet paw-prints as he picked his way over the pile of gold. Coins loosened and slid down the hill in a tinkling avalanche. Thaddeus paused. Had anybody heard that?

He listened, both ears stretching towards the ceiling. He heard something: a repetitive wheezing in and out, like the bellows the maid used on the fire. Lowering onto his belly, Thaddeus crept to the top of the coins and gazed into the center of the cave.

There, curled among the coins and chests, gems and pearls, lay the largest creature Thaddeus had ever seen. Terror gripped the kitten. His tail stuck straight up.

It glistened bright green with scales like a fish’s but solid and dry, rather than supple and covered in butter and lemon juice. Claws, similar in shape to Thaddeus’s but twice the size of his whole body, tipped each of the monster’s four limbs. Great bat-like wings rested in folds at its sides. He remembered seeing a picture of one in Clarice’s books. A dragon. Thaddeus doubted if the creature would fit in King Victor’s throne room.

A creature like this could swallow him without even noticing. As bad as outside was, inside the cave was worse. Where could he go now?

Thankfully, the dragon’s eyes were closed. If Thaddeus backed out slowly . . .

He stepped backwards and something within the pile shifted. The surface Thaddeus had been standing on rolled forward, pulling him with it. He landed on his back even closer to the dragon.

“Lies” by Angela B. Chrysler

As seen in “Broken”

“There at love’s bitter end when the deadened heart is done,

The moon it wanes with one last sigh and the silence breaks. It breathes, “The end.”

And Death it calls as the stone crow breaks. Streaks of blood malform its face.

Death becomes its withered eyes and the shadows whisper, “Lies.”

Broken by Angela B Chrysler 1600x2500Now within the dying ground as I hear my maddened sound,

From the eaves the darkness seeps. It is there that the shadows whisper, “Lies”

With outstretched hand, I call, I moan. My fingers graze Death’s withered hand,

“My love,” I gasp. Despair clamps down, yet all I hear are lies.

With words of love, you kiss my face. Your sodden tears they fall like rain.

With twisted smile or upturned frown, you walk away, my death unfurled,

And I regain my heart betwixt your love, my blood, the lies, the pain

Yet you see none, and there I lay remembering your lies.

Belittle were your words of love, despite the warmth within your touch

You made my body sing and cry, and smiling you would watch me writhe

Voiced with words and sweet caress, you impaled me with your flesh

Now, upon my death we part. Still, the shadows whisper, “Lies.”

Throwing back my naked breast, cold death’s grip, I welcome it.

And at last, with final breath I open up, invite him in.

Through me, riddles Death’s cold hand, as he rakes my skin from bone,

Death, in peace, at last I’ll sleep while the shadows whisper lies.

There at love’s bitter end when the deadened heart is done,

The moon it wanes with one last sigh and the silence breaks. It breathes, “The end.”

And Death it calls as the stone crow breaks. Streaks of blood malform my face.

Death becomes my withered eyes and the shadows whisper, “Lies.”

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Brain To Books Blog Tour Day 4/#2

A Voice Among Many

Brain to Books Blog Tour

Voices Among Many

From the pen of Charlene Diane Jones

This poem doesn’t appear in any books but free flows through readings I have done over the last couple of decades.

I performed poetry with my poetry partner Linda Stitt across much of Southern Ontario

throughout the last decades of the millenium, and have focused through the new millenium on being at home to write, poetry, prose (my novel The Stain is available at

I have a radio program twice monthly on 102.7 fm in which I interview writers. Let me know if you are interested, by contacting me at

I also have a blog space at I love science, which often sounds in its amazing and surprising details like poetry to me. I particularly love Neuroscience and have just completed a small book called Medicine Buddha/Medicine Mind on the power of visualization as explained by neuroscience. No, really, it’s an easy to read primer to those two subjects.

Anyway thanks for taking time here with me. I look forward to more contact later!


“Beading” by Charlene Diane Jones

Snow falling, near midnight

your voice on the phone.

I walk the long mile to your house

my black cape flaps like a crow’s wing

you remove, down to my eager skin.

That was long ago.

Now, between my skin and this wall

your face appears, rises and dissolves.

Memory and dream

wind on the same skein.

Our waking days bead

the braided string.

This day I wake to cigarettes,

scotch and this wall,

where memory frames

you stepping into my kitchen

or ambling with me through villages

where a your man snakes his hips

under the low-slung silk skirt

his kohl-darkened eyes burning,

beckoning the older man, his partner.

I remember you said then

you wanted a man, a young man, that man.

Memories and dreams

wind on the same skein.

Our waking days bead

the braided string.

Now, I leave my house

to walk in snow

wrapped in ten years of dreams

and a need to forget

that dream about the plague,

you thin, blistered, fevered

choking in delirium

delusion about recovery,

need to forget how you said

last time we met

the dream about the plague was mine

how last time we met you said

that dream about the plague was mine.

How dreams and memory wind

together on the same skein.

Under my skin waking days bleed.

The beads spin.

Your death yanked the string.

From the Desk of B.R. Kingsolver.

From I’ll Sing for my Dinner by BR Kingsolver

I'll Sing For My DinnerWe went up on stage and he handed me a white Fender Stratocaster, a Jimi Hendrix guitar. Jared had been playing a hollow-body Gibson most of the evening, but switched for a few songs.

Strapping on the Strat, I strummed it to hear how it was tuned. And then one of my imps seized control. I launched into Purple Haze, running the entire introductory riff. When I stopped and looked around, everyone in the bar was staring at me.

Stepping to the mic, I said, “Sorry. I’m not used to driving a guitar this powerful. It just sorta got away from me.”

Everyone laughed.

We got me in tune with the rest of the band, and when the other members came back from their break, Jared introduced me.

“We have a special treat tonight, a psychedelic rocker from the East Coast.” That got a laugh. “Those of you who happened to catch her playing here during dinner last night or tonight know what a special talent she is, and she’s graciously agreed to sing a couple of songs with us. Please welcome Miss Cecily Buchanan.”

Their band was tight and I liked playing with them. Jared was an excellent lead guitarist, and their pedal steel player was pretty good. The bassist and drummer were also good musicians. The rhythm guitarist was adequate, but had a nice voice. We played half a dozen Emmylou Harris songs, including Luxury Liner, Quarter Moon in a Ten Cent Town, Roses in the Snow, Boston to Birmingham, Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, and I sang a duet of Hello Stranger with Jared.

I’ve never been shy on stage, and the applause and cheers as I put the guitar down and stepped off the bandstand felt as good as if I’d been playing Carnegie Hall. It’s better than food. I drank it all in shamelessly. For the first time in years, I felt whole, like myself. I remembered that I used to live for that feeling. How had I gone so far astray? This was so much better than any drug.

Jake came out from behind the bar and I skipped toward him. I threw my arms around his waist and gave him a hug. He hugged me back, in a friendly sort of way. His large strong hands on my back felt good. He didn’t try to pull me into him, and for some reason, it didn’t make me feel uncomfortable.

“Damn, Cecily, you’re incredible,” he said.

I looked up in his face. He was smiling and happy for me. Filled with approval. My heart seemed so full I thought it might burst. Where had this man been? Why hadn’t I run into him two years ago? Someone who seemed genuinely happy when I succeeded, instead of jealous?

I pulled his face down to mine and kissed him on the lips. “You can’t imagine how happy you’ve made me, and I’ve barely known you a day,” I said.


teaser 2I turned to the band, and launched into the opening rift of Dance All Night. After the second rift, they came in on time, and I turned to the mic to sing.

It’s been a lousy day

Come home to get away

Boss was a jerk, always down on me

Need to kick loose and move to feel free


Going to go out and

Dance all night

The music makes things right

Shake my ass and forget

Ain’t heard last call yet

Dance all night


Boyfriend called and moaned

Says he has to work ‘til dawn

Thinks I’m too dumb to catch on

He’s gettin’ some on the side

I ain’t staying home while he rides

Don’t want to sit around bored

Short dress and fuck-me shoes, hit the door


Going to go out and

Dance all night

The music makes things right

Shake my ass and forget

Ain’t heard last call yet

Dance all night


<guitar solo>


Don’t want to sit around bored

Short dress and fuck-me shoes, hit the door

Flirt with all the good lookin guys

Gonna find one to make me fly


Going to go out and

Dance all night

The music makes things right

Shake my ass and forget

Ain’t heard last call yet

Dance all night


When I finished, I did think the roof would come off. It was a new song, one I started thinking about in New York and finished in London. It had a dance beat, and the lyrics were inspired by all the women I saw alone in the clubs. I had practiced it with the band, but no one else had heard it. Neither Darlene nor Terrie had great singing voices, but when we practiced it we decided they should come in on the chorus.

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