excerpt

Your middle-of-the-week mystery fix!

August 3, 2016 By Barbara Leave a Comment

Looking for a fun, new series with plenty of mystery, murder, and romance to go
around? Check out my Double Barrel Mysteries series. If you want to start at the beginning of the series, pick up a copy of book one, ROADKILL.

In book two, Much Ado About Murder, Blake and Shelby Gunner are setting up residence in Port Scuttlebutt and opening their own private investigations office. Hope you enjoy the excerpt below!

Shelby could hear the whine of the electric saw when she stepped out on the porch with her cup of coffee. Vanilla bean scented steam rose in the cold autumn air as she held her cup between the palms of her hands and sipped. She shivered in spite of wearing an angora sweater beneath a quilted jacket. It was hard to believe that days before Blake was working shirtless down at the boathouse. Today he’d need to wear long johns and flannel. It was already beginning to feel like Christmas. All they needed was snow.

The radio came on in the kitchen where Alice was busy mixing bread dough. It sounded like the weather report. Shelby gulped the rest of her lukewarm coffee and slipped back inside to catch the news. Maybe there would be something about the murder. The police had been tight-lipped about the case when Blake showed up asking questions. Even the brotherhood-of-blue mantra did little to open the way for him.

Blake was still upstairs sleeping, but he’d be down soon. He had an invitation to visit his grandmother at the big house for lunch. Apparently it was a single invitation, since he hadn’t invited her along, but that was okay. She had plans as well.

“Sounds like we might get snow by tonight,” Alice said, turning the radio down when the commercials came on. She slipped a clean towel over the lump of dough in the mixing bowl, and slid it closer to the stove to rise. “Good thing Mr. Dugan started early today. Maybe he’ll have the office windows and door in for you by this evening.”

“That would be wonderful.” Shelby refilled her cup from the carafe and leaned against the kitchen counter. “Especially if he turns out to be guilty.”

“Guilty? Did you find something incriminating out there at his place?” Alice peered over the refrigerator door as she pulled breakfast items from the shelves. “I mean… that would be terrible. For Tucker’s dad especially.”

Shelby shook her head. “Nothing like that. But we didn’t find anything to prove his innocence either, so…” she shrugged.

“Hey. Loose lips sink ships,” Blake said from the doorway. He pulled an imaginary zipper across his mouth. “Mrs. Private Eye, may I have a word with you?”

“Don’t worry,” Alice said, “I haven’t had time to get all the juicy details out of her yet.”

Shelby followed Blake into the sitting room and faced him, hands on her hips. “What was that all about? Paranoid much? If anyone in this town can be trusted, Alice can.”

“I know that. But sometimes things slip out inadvertently. I want to keep this ring business under wraps for the time being. I haven’t even questioned Pete Dugan about whether he knew his ex-wife was seeing someone else or not. First things first. Okay?”

“Fine. I won’t mention the ring to anyone.”

He stepped closer and tipped her chin up with one finger. “You know how beautiful you look when you’re peeved with me?”

“I’m not peeved. I just don’t like lying to my friends.” She’d done enough of that growing up. Lying to protect her alcoholic father from losing his job, lying to keep the social workers away, lying to bill collectors, the landlord, her friends.

“You don’t have to lie, babe. They’ll understand if you tell them you can’t talk about it. The same way you understood when I couldn’t share everything about the cases I worked on as a detective. Information is key. We have to keep it to ourselves until the exact right moment. Get it? Surprise attack. We want to get a natural, unguarded look at our suspect’s true feelings. Most people wear a façade, especially when they feel cornered.

“Now our client is a suspect?”

“Until I’ve proved otherwise.”

She leaned into him and he drew her close. She closed her eyes and breathed in his just-showered scent. “You smell like fresh strawberries.”

“I used your fruity shampoo. Mine was empty.”

“It smells good on you,” she said, nuzzling his neck.

“Hold on now.” He moved back out of reach, a silly grin on his face. “Are you trying to get an invitation to lunch, or…?”

“I can’t believe you’d think that. Only married four years and you’re already pouring sand on the flames.”

His brows came together. “Are you messing with me?”

“Of course. Who else would I mess with?” She reached out and tugged him back by the collar of his shirt. “Now kiss me before I leave. I’m going to the café for a chat with Luanne.”

“Heaven help us all,” he said, and then gave her a proper goodbye kiss.

~~~

Ps. Book Three: Midsummer Madness is available now!

Thanks for stopping! Hope you enjoyed this excerpt. Please leave a comment below.

Barbara

Coming at you with both barrels!

December 17, 2015 By Barbara 2 Comments

I know I keep saying that book 2 in the Double Barrel Mysteries is in the works and coming soon. And it is! But whipping up a murder, clues, suspects, and opportunity, setting it all in the quirky little town of Port Scuttlebutt, and writing entertaining dialogue for my married sleuths, Blake and Shelby Gunner, takes time and finesse and lots and lots of chocolate and licorice breaks.

But because I’ve made you wait much longer than I anticipated, and you must wait a bit longer yet, here is an excerpt from Double Barrel Mystery #2 (title yet to be determined) for your enjoyment!

Excerpt:

Blake leaned over the sawhorse and braced one hand on the 2X4 he was cutting. The smell of pine floated on the air as the sharp-toothed handsaw steadily chewed through the wood, leaving a sprinkling of sawdust below. Sweat dripped from his brow and soaked his white t-shirt, making it cling to his chest like a second skin. A length of sawed off wood dropped to the ground and he straightened, a look of satisfaction in his blue eyes.

“Okay, I was wrong,” Shelby said, eyeing him with renewed respect. “You really do know your way around a construction site, babe. I never should have doubted you.”

“I told you I worked with a construction crew for six months before I became a cop.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know you’d look so good in a tool belt you could sell chain saws to old ladies.” She shielded her eyes with one hand, looking up at the house. “Hey, isn’t that Tucker’s pickup in the driveway? I wonder what he’s doing here.”

“Probably came by to see Alice over his lunch break.”

“I don’t think so. He’s headed this way.”

Blake leaned the 2X4 against the sawhorse and slanted her a grin. “Maybe we can put him to work. The sooner we get these offices finished, the sooner we can take on clients and pay for the place. Double Barrel Investigations may have been your brain child, but I got to be truthful with you Shel… when it comes to wielding a hammer, you suck.”

“If that’s your idea of flattery, I’d hate to be on your bad side.”

“I haven’t got a bad side,” he said flexing his muscles.

She rolled her eyes, trying not to grin. “Who do you think you are, Fabio?”

“Who?”

“Never mind.”

He held out the newly sawn board.

She shook her head.

“You want me to do it?”

“You’re the master.

While Blake was busy pounding the 2X4 into place, Tucker stepped into the gutted boathouse. He gazed around with wide-eyed interest at the office area they were busy framing. The smack of the hammer echoed off the walls before Blake turned around with a welcoming grin.

“Hey, Skeleton! You’re just in time.”

“In time for what?” Tucker’s gaze narrowed.

“To help us out. As I recall, you’re an experienced drywall installer.”

“A part-time job for one summer doesn’t make me an expert.”

Blake shrugged. “Okay. You’re a wet-behind-the-ears drywall installer. But we could still use your help. At this rate, we won’t be done before the snow flies.”

The boathouse had been set on fire a month earlier, damaging the entire front wall, door, and part of the roof. Blake had torn down the charred wood, leaving the entrance open to the elements for now. They planned to keep the exterior as rustic as before, while updating the front section with insulated walls and flooring for the offices of their new business. Another door would lead to the rear of the boathouse and the lake beyond. There was still ample room to store a small sailboat there if they ever found spare money in their budget to purchase one.

Tucker slipped his hands in the front pockets of his oversized green hoodie and leaned nonchalantly on one hip. “I’ll do you one better. What if I could promise you free help from a real construction expert?”

“That has the definite twang of tight strings attached.”

Shelby gave Blake a playful swap on the backside. “Looking a gift horse in the mouth much?” She grinned at Tucker. “Don’t mind him. Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind. What’s your deal?”

“It’s not exactly my deal. Just think of me as your agent. I have a client for you who’d be willing to pay your fees in hard labor.”

“Bartering? How medieval.”

“Wait a minute. A client? What are we investigating? A cheating spouse?” Blake’s brows pulled together.

“Hear him out, Gun. After all, beggars can’t be choosers. We need the help.”

“Fine. Who cheated on who?” he asked, slipping the hammer into the loop on his tool belt.

Tucker shook his head. “You got it all wrong. This is serious and right up your alley. Pete Dugan and my father go way back. They’ve been friends since high school. Dad wanted me to ask you if you would take on this case as a personal favor to him.”

“Well, I can’t really say no to that, can I?”

Shelby sat on an overturned bucket. “What are we investigating?”

“Pete found a body buried on his property a couple days ago and now the police are treating him like their number one suspect. He thinks someone set him up and he needs you to help clear his name.”

“A murder?”

“Looks that way. Bodies don’t usually bury themselves, do they?” Tucker asked with a straight face.

Blake stroked a hand over his jaw, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Shelby knew he was intrigued and ready to take off in pursuit of a killer, happily leaving manual labor behind. She could see his wheels spinning already. He was still a cop at heart, despite his forced retirement last year after a shooting that left him with a bum leg and a burning desire to move back to his hometown.

“The police don’t usually jump to conclusions without good reason,” he said. “Who was the victim?”

Tucker cleared his throat and his gaze shifted to the partially framed wall. “Dugan’s ex-wife.”

Blake’s laughter was anything but mirthful. “You’ve got to be kidding me. A man’s ex-wife turns up buried on his property and you think it’s strange the police view him as a suspect? Nine times out of ten it’s the husband or boyfriend.”

“I know. I know. But my dad is certain Pete’s innocent and I had to ask.” He blew out a breath and slowly backed toward the dock. “Sorry to interrupt your work.”

“Hold on!” Shelby jumped up and ran to Tucker. Clasping his hand, she tugged him gently back. “Blake didn’t say no. He’s just stating facts. That doesn’t mean your father’s friend is a murderer. He may well be that one time out of ten. Right, Blake?” she said, shooting him a hard look.

He shrugged. “Sure. I’ll talk to him. But I can’t promise anything. If I think he’s guilty of murder, hell or high water won’t keep me from assisting the police in their case.”

“That’s fair.” Tucker gave a short nod and dug his pickup keys out of his pocket. “I’ll let Dad know.”

“Your dad was always good at seeing through lies and deception, Tuck.” Blake swiped sweat from his forehead with the edge of his shirt. “He certainly never fell for any of our wild stories. So it’s hard to believe he’d be a lifelong friend to a man capable of murder. I’m going to work this case on the assumption that Pete Dugan is an innocent man, because I trust your dad’s instincts.”

“Thanks.”

“What about the construction help?” Shelby reminded him. “If Blake and I are investigating the murder, someone has to be here to finish this.”

“Dugan was a construction foreman for over thirty years. He’s newly retired, but if he’s anything like my dad he’ll jump at the chance to get back into it.”

“So,” Shelby narrowed her gaze, “you haven’t actually discussed bartering labor in exchange for our services, have you?”

“Not technically, no.”

“Great!” Blake threw up his hands and huffed. “We’re back where we started.”

“Quit being a whiner, Acky Breaky. I got this covered. If Mr. Dugan chooses to pay you in cash rather than hard labor – which I can’t see happening – I promise to come back and help out as much as I can. I’ve got a new kid working part-time at the store now and he’d probably love some extra hours.”

“Thanks, Tuck,” Shelby gave him a hug and wasn’t surprised to feel ribs beneath his baggy sweatshirt. He definitely lived up to his nickname. He ate like a three hundred pound linebacker but never seemed to gain an ounce. “You should stop up at the house and have some of that raspberry pie Alice baked this morning. You are wasting away.”

“I thought you told me you were working out,” Blake said.

Tucker lifted a brow. “This is me in the best shape of my life. You can’t see it? I’m totally ripped. Alice says I’m buff.”

“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,” Shelby teased.

His cell buzzed and he slipped it out to read the message. “What a coincidence. I’ve been invited for a slice of pie. Later, you two!”

~~~

You can purchase the 1st book in The Double Barrel Mysteries, ROADKILL, at these fine stores: Amazon Barnes&Noble iTunes Kobo Smashwords

ps. ENTANGLED and CHOSEN are both still FREE at all online stores as well. Get your copies to read over the holidays!

Thanks for stopping! Leave a comment and tell me what you think about the excerpt!

Barbara

Reality is just a dream

December 7, 2015 By Barbara 2 Comments

~~~FALL BOOK BASH ~~~ FALL BOOK BASH ~~~ FALL BOOK BASH~~~

So many terrific authors have dropped by this fall to share excerpts from their books in The Fall Book Bash. I love reading bits from so many different genres and finding things I probably would never have picked up otherwise. My to-be-read list has definitely grown in the past two months, but I’m planning to take care of that over the holidays by reading as much as I can. I hope you have been able to find some great holiday reads and gifts as well.

Today, Beth Honeycutt is sharing an excerpt from her young adult novel, What Dreams May Come. So if you love young adult novels or if you know someone who does, check out the excerpt below and find your next great book.

~He knows her darkest secrets, sees into her dreams. Math class will never be the same.

Reality is overrated. Or so Ellie Cross believes. She greatly prefers the dreams she shares with her imaginary friend and lifelong BFF, Gabe, to the nightmare of her real life. And okay, so yeah, lately Ellie’s noticed that Gabe’s kinda hot. Make that incredibly hot. But that doesn’t mean she’s crazy or anything. So what if she happens to have an itsy-bitsy crush on her reality-challenged friend? Who’s it hurting, really?

But when the hot new guy at school walks into her math class, Ellie finds herself staring into eyes remarkably like the ones she’s been dreaming of all her life. To make matters worse, the new guy seems to know things about Ellie that he shouldn’t have any way of knowing. Has Ellie finally lost it, started confusing dreams with reality? Or is there something else going on, something she never could’ve imagined, even in her wildest dreams?~

WHAT DREAMS MAY COME (excerpt)

Ellie handed a menu over to Gabriel. “You have to try a piece of pie,” she instructed. “You can’t miss it—their pie is the best. And I bet I can find just the kind you’d like,” she said, pointing to a small blurb on the back of the menu entitled, The Psychology of Pie. “You can learn a lot about a person from the type of pie they like,” she teased.

“Oh really?” Gabriel returned, joining in the lighthearted fun. “I’ll take that challenge. I bet I can pick out the kind of pie you like best, too.”

“You’re on,” Ellie challenged. “You order the pie you think I’d want and I’ll do the same for you. Then we’ll see who knows the other best,” she finished smugly, sure she was going to win. She’d been thinking about this for a while now.

They both studied the menu until the waitress came over to take their order. She was a middle-aged woman who looked tired from the long day and, no doubt, the long evening of dealing with teenagers.

She was quick and efficient taking their order and returned in just a couple of minutes with the pie and their drinks. She placed their respective refreshments in front of them and laid the bill to the side, then went back to the front.

Gabriel pushed the plate that was in front of him toward Ellie. It held a single slice of cream-colored pie with a slightly darker, golden-yellow top, all supported by a delicate crust with fluted edges. He took his fork and cut off the tip of the pie, putting it into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. He swallowed and nodded to himself, satisfied. “Sugar cream pie,” he said, supremely confident that he’d pegged her favorite.

“Interesting,” she responded, refusing to give anything away just yet. She wanted to hear his reasoning first. “Why that one?”

“It just seems like you.” Gabriel shrugged. “Light, unpretentious, with a delicate crust that’s not too thick or too thin. There’s hidden depth to the flavor that you aren’t expecting. It’s sweet, but not so rich that you can only take it in small doses. You could eat a whole pie and still want more. And it’s a classic—good for any occasion, any time. The perfect pie.” He held her gaze as he listed the attributes and she found herself blushing again at the message in his eyes.

It was probably ridiculous to feel so complimented, being compared to a piece of pie, but she did. He forked up another bite and held it out to her, waiting for her to take a taste. She did, closing her eyes at the creamy texture and light sweetness nestled within the flaky crust. It was the perfect piece of pie.

When she opened her eyes again, he was watching her closely. His eyes were dark and kept straying to her lips, making them tingle. She decided a change of topic was in order, so she pushed the piece of pie she’d chosen out to the middle of the table. It had a thick coating of nuts on top, with golden-brown, gooey filling hidden beneath. Its crust was thick and firm. Like he had done, she forked up a bite and ate it slowly, testing it on her tongue, thinking through what she wanted to say. She swallowed and took a drink of her water. “Pecan,” she declared decisively, pleased with her choice.

“Oh, really?” he asked, one brow raised. “And why is that?”

She smiled impishly. “Tough and strong on the outside, gooey and sweet on the inside. Oh, and a sturdy, dependable crust. And maybe just a little nuts,” she added with a smirk. She forked up a bite for him and held it out, her eyes alight with good humor.

He rolled his eyes, but leaned forward to take the proffered bite. He chewed carefully and swallowed. “Not bad,” he conceded.

“Oh, come on!” Ellie protested. “You know you loved it!”

“What about you?” he challenged. “How was the sugar cream?”

“You’re right, it is my favorite,” Ellie admitted. Though she put on a good show, she was secretly thrilled that he knew her so well. “How’d I do with yours?”

“Truthfully, I’ve never really had a favorite kind of pie,” Gabriel said, sounding almost apologetic.

“Pie’s not something I’ve had a lot of.” Ellie felt her heart squeeze at this reminder of how very different his upbringing had been from hers. But then he grinned, face alight with happiness. “I gotta say, though, I think pecan is my favorite now.” His gaze on her was warm. “Though let’s not let that ‘gooey and sweet on the inside’ stuff get around, all right? I mean, pecan pie has a reputation to protect, yeah?”

Ellie burst out laughing. “I’ll do my best to keep a lid on it,” she promised, eyes twinkling.

A professional writer and editor, Beth has written everything from poetry and short stories to proposals for government contracts, science textbooks, and standardized tests (yes, you have her to thank for those!). Her real love is writing fiction, though, especially YA. She loves to travel and has been to nine different countries (more if you count layovers!). At home or abroad, she can usually be found with her head in a book or madly scribbling down ideas for a book of her own. She loves spending time with family, stories of all kinds, and happy endings. She firmly believes in the enduring power of love.

Connect with Beth online:

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Buy What Dreams May Come

Hope you enjoyed this excerpt. Please leave a comment or question for Beth below!

Barbara

Between the Lies on The Fall Book Bash

December 2, 2015 By Barbara 3 Comments

~~~ FALL BOOK BASH ~~~ FALL BOOK BASH ~~~ FALL BOOK BASH ~~~

Author Joy DeKok is sharing an excerpt from her novel, Between the Lies, with us today. I’ve read this one and I can tell you that it is an absorbing story. It would make a terrific addition to your Christmas gift selections for that book-loving friend or family member you have a hard time buying for… or a little holiday gift for yourself.

Joy has been writing since she was a little girl. Her dream of being an author was front and center in her mind and after years of hard work, she has several books in publication. She has been traditionally published, but is now an indie author.

Joy works part time for her husband and puts in as many hours writing as she can. She prefers writing in the solitude of her office, but can also be found in area coffee shops now and then where the voices and energy of the real world infuse the words on the page.

She’s been married to Jon for 38 years. They live on 35 acres of woods and field between Pine Island and Rochester. Joy loves riding their John Deere Gator with her dogs, Sophie & Tucker, taking pictures and enjoying God. Although unable to have children of their own, they love their nieces, nephews, and the children of their friends. And most of them are having kids of their own and don’t mind sharing them with Joy and Jon at all.

Her latest release is Between the Lies. It’s the first book in a mystery/suspense series. Joy took some risks with the main character. As a former “kept” woman, Olivia Morgan is not easy to like, but she’s the character Joy was given to write about. Writing is like that.

Connect with Joy online: Facebook Twitter Google+ Tumblr LinkedIn

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BETWEEN THE LIES (excerpt)

Security called to let me know the private elevator was out-of-order, and I was told to use the public elevator. That had never happened in the ten years I’d lived there, but then neither had the night ahead of me.

A black stretch limo waited at the curb to take me to the ball. And I did it all without a fairy god-mother. Who needed a fat little old lady with a wand and a warning? Not me. No way.

Not until I found the dead guy anyway.

Lloyd, the building security guy, called to tell me my ride was waiting. When the elevator doors whispered open, I stepped in with a practiced little swish. I say practiced, because I had taken three trial runs and added what I thought might be an elegant little entrance move.

The guy in the elevator didn’t notice. He stood in the corner with his chin on his chest and his eyes half-closed and with a Twins cap sitting off-kilter on his head. What a stiff.

When the doors shut, our descent began with a slight shudder, and the man lurched forward and fell face-down near my feet.

“For crying out loud, man, it’s too early to be so drunk,” I muttered.

When the doors opened, I called out to the head of security who was seated at the front desk, “Can you help me with this guy?”

Lloyd, a former marine, rolled the man over, then jumped back. “Olivia, this man is dead.”

I gasped and stared at the guy and noticed his eyes were empty—devoid of life. His face, neck, and scalp were severely scarred. His cap now lay on the floor beside him. I assumed he used it to cover his face which looked tight and melted.

Instead of screaming or fleeing I went to my secret place; the one deep inside me I’d discovered the first time my father came to my room. I hadn’t been there in a long time, but I let the calm flow over me as I shut the door to my feelings. Besides, I had someplace to be, and losing it was not an option.

“Lloyd, I have to get going. You can handle this, right?”

“No. You are a witness and may have evidence on your dress or the bottom of your shoes.”

“Can you please get me out of here?” The body was blocking my exit, had ruined my elegant entrance into the foyer of the building, and was going to make me late for the evening.

Lloyd raised his hand as I tried to explain why I had to get out. He was already on his cell phone, telling someone Mr. Lyons would not appreciate it if the St. Paul police department didn’t send someone over “pronto.” When he hung up he looked at me and said, “Stay put.” He left no room for argument so I stayed with the guy. The very dead guy.

Within minutes, a swarm of police and other officials had the area cordoned off with yellow tape, and hustled around like bees in a hive. At first glance, it seemed chaotic, but their movements were strategically choreographed.

And there was a coroner. I’d always pictured people who work with the dead all looking like old Dr. Frankenstein: gaunt and grisly. This guy was movie-star handsome. “Hello. I need your corner.” His voice sounded so warm it could melt an iceberg. “Would you mind stepping onto these slightly sticky sheets of paper? They will catch any particles from your shoes we might need.” He offered me his hand and helped me step over the dead guy onto large sheets he placed on the elevator floor.

I have no idea what came over me, but I heard myself say, “Thank you, kind sir,” and I curtsied. Maybe it was the dress.

Whatever it was, it must have been contagious because he bowed slightly and said, “My pleasure, lovely lady.”

“Olivia, are you okay?” Lloyd’s bushy eyebrows nearly met in the middle as he narrowed his eyes at me. His voice sliced through the air, ruining a fun moment, and I felt myself stand a little straighter. I squelched the urge to salute and swallowed a giggle.

Instead, I took a deep breath and said, “I suppose I’m a little shocked, but this night is important. I have to go. Please help me . . . it’s for Jillian.”

Lloyd walked over to an officer in regular clothes and pointed at me. They talked for awhile and she made a couple of calls. When she hung up, she walked over to me and said, “I’m detective Harper, Homicide Division. I understand you have an important event to attend tonight. I’ve talked to my boss, and Mr. Alan Lyons, who vouched for you. Both said you can leave if you allow me to inspect the bag you are carrying. I also want to meet with you tomorrow at time decided on by me. Do you agree with these stipulations?”

“Sure,” I agreed.

After she inspected my clutch and tucked a card into the pocket, the detective said, “Your driver is waiting.”

I walked toward the handsome doctor of the dead and heard him say, “The body is still in the elevator. I’d like to get it out of there so your team can look for evidence.” I noticed him look in my direction. As I turned, my dress swished just so. Funny the things that matter at a crime scene and when a handsome man might be watching.

The driver who held my door open looked familiar, but I had no idea from where. He wore reflective sunglasses that wrapped around his eyes almost to his temples.

Something about him made my nerves jangle. Just like the homeless guy did at the cemetery. I wrote it off as anxiety from looking into the eyes of a dead man.

I opened my clutch and took a moment to apply powder to my face and freshen my lipstick. The little beaded purse held those two items, along with a credit card, my key cards, and my cell phone. I looked at the card the detective had tucked inside. On the back was her cell phone number under the words, Talk to you soon. ~~~

Purchase Between the Lies: Amazon

~~~

Thanks for stopping! Did you enjoy this latest excerpt? Leave a comment or question for Joy or myself below.

Barbara

Politics as usual…

November 30, 2015 By Barbara 2 Comments

It may be the last day of November, but The Fall Book Bash continues with another great excerpt, this time from author Paul Cwalina. Reviewers of Paul’s first novel, DROPPING STONES, have used the words gripping, emotional roller coaster, disturbing, and literary classic to convey their appreciation of his story. Many of them hoped for a sequel. Well here it is! Today Paul is sharing an excerpt with us from the second book in his Dropping Stones series, KINGMAKER.

~~After a man destroys his own life, where does he go from there? Lost and confused, the mayor starts over, his new life a delicate balance between mourning and moving forward. A second shot at a political career comes to him, so he pursues his dream of becoming part of the Washington, DC power scene. Just when he thinks he’s getting it together, the balance is threatened as a woman bearing the fruit of his sinful past confronts him and demands accountability. Her determination and uncompromising ways force him to choose between what he wants and what he needs. He thinks he’s finally got it right until another equally determined woman relentlessly pursues him. She may have the ability to deliver his dreams and more, but at what cost? He squandered his first chance at success and true love. Will the siren call of power politics be his down fall again? ~~

Born and raised in northeastern Pennsylvania, Paul Cwalina is the grandson of immigrant

coalminers. By day, he is a marketing executive and an economics geek, as well as a politics junkie.

Citing Ernest Hemingway’s “Farewell to Arms” as the spark that ignited his desire to write, the author is now turning his long-dormant passion and hobby into a way to tell a story to the world.

“I don’t write ‘comfortable’ stories. I want my readers to be affected and to think; to get out of their comfort zones just a bit. The biggest compliment I receive on ‘Dropping Stones’ is that the story stays with a person long after they’ve read it. To me, that says ‘mission accomplished’.”

Paul lives with his wife and children in Drums, Pennsylvania.

Connect with Paul online: Facebook Twitter Amazon author page

KINGMAKER (excerpt)

The doors to the elevator opened as soon as I got back and we stepped in. The doors closed and I was still processing what I had just seen in the restaurant when Jennifer stepped in front of me and poked her finger into my chest.

“Don’t you ever try to stop me from speaking my mind again. I’m not some accessory you’re going to wear to cocktail parties,” she said.

With the back of my left hand, I swept her finger away. “Don’t give me that I-am-woman-hear-me-roar garbage. Do you have any idea what you cost me in there?”

“What I cost you? Excuse me?” she said in a raised voice.

“There is no way he’s going to put someone on the White House staff who has a loose cannon for a spouse!” I yelled back.

She stopped and stared hard into my eyes. Her anger melted into disappointment and hurt. “White House staff? You lied to me. You’re still planning to work here. To live here. You’ve been lying to me this whole time.” She stopped me cold. I was so consumed with anger that I unwittingly revealed what I had to keep hidden from Jennifer: that I never gave up on moving to DC. I put my head down and exhaled hard. “I wasn’t lying. I was just hoping you would change your mind.”

Jennifer turned, stepped back to my side and leaned against the back wall of the elevator. When the doors opened, she practically bolted for the door and kept walking. With her pregnancy it was easy to catch up to her, but that clearly wasn’t what she wanted. We were silent for the entire walk back to the hotel and the elevator to our floor.

“I’m going to bed,” she said as soon as we entered the room. “Turn around so I can get undressed.”

I turned and stared at the wall. I heard her slip out of her clothes. “There’s a time and place for everything. That wasn’t the time or place,” I said.

“And when would be a good time? You keep telling me this guy is going to be president. Should I wait until then? Should I wait until he’s insulated and cut off from the real world and surrounded by a bunch of sycophants and yes-men? I had the chance to point out the error of his thinking and I took advantage of it.”

“You embarrassed him.”

“His lack of insight did that, not me. And if he can’t handle it, tough,” she said confidently. “And if you can’t handle it, you know where the door is.” I heard her slip into bed.

“I certainly do,” I said, frustrated. I got undressed in the dark and collapsed into my bed.

I spent two restless hours trying unsuccessfully to fall asleep. I thought about the dinner with Rick, but mostly about the tension between Jennifer and me. I couldn’t tell which was more frustrating—our differences or the fact that I was falling in love with someone who wasn’t impressed in the least with my success or what I did for a living.

~~~

Thanks for stopping! Leave a comment or question for Paul and make sure to pick up your FREE kindle copy of the the 1st book in The Dropping Stones series November 30th!

Barbara

An unforgettable love

November 22, 2015 By Barbara 1 Comment

Today’s excerpt makes an even dozen in The Fall Book Bash! So many great books to choose from and Christmas only weeks away. Paperbacks make great under the tree gifts, but ebooks can be terrific stocking stuffers. They don’t take up much room at all:) If you missed any excerpts, make sure and scroll back through the earlier posts. We’ve had lots of different genres and authors.

Author Marianne Sciucco is sharing an excerpt today from her novel, BLUE HYDRANGEAS. It sounds like a very intriguing and possibly heart-rending love story. But you decide. Read on for the blurb, excerpt, and a little about the author…

What if the person who knew you best and loved you most forgot your face, and couldn’t remember your name? A care facility is everyone’s solution for what to do about Sara, but her husband, Jack, can’t bear to live without her. He is committed to saving his marriage, his wife, and their life together from the devastation of Alzheimer’s disease. He and Sara retired years ago to the house of their dreams, and operated it as a Cape Cod bed and breakfast named Blue Hydrangeas. Jack has made an impossible promise: He and Sara will stay together in their beautiful home no matter what the disease brings. However, after nine years of selfless caregiving, complicated by her progressing Alzheimer’s and his own failing heart, he finally admits he can no longer care for her at home. With reluctance, he arranges to admit her to an assisted living facility. But, on the day of admission, Sara is having one of her few good days, and he is unable to follow through. Instead, he takes them on an impulsive journey to confront their past and reclaim their future. In the end, he realizes that staying together at any cost is what truly matters.

BLUE HYDRANGEAS (excerpt)

A chilly draft greeted him as he entered the kitchen and saw the sliding door to the deck was unlatched. Is Sara outdoors in this wretched rain? he thought. Has she gone for a walk? She never takes her walk until after her first cup of coffee. He noted the automatic coffeepot, silent on the kitchen counter, too early to brew. He ignored the rising panic in his gut and dressed for the weather, grabbing his jacket and putting on shoes before heading out the back door.

Jack circled the house, shouting her name. He didn’t find her in the cutting garden or in the back yard. He worked his way down the driveway, feeling foolish for panicking. She’d probably decided to take her walk before breakfast. Still, a troublesome thought in the back of his mind suggested this was not the case.

Sara had several routes to walk throughout the development. She used the established walking paths, but also traveled along the main streets, admiring her neighbor’s homes and gardens and stopping to chat with anyone she passed.

Jack took off along this route. He walked quickly and saw no one. With each step he tried to convince himself he worried for nothing, praying at any moment he’d turn a corner and see her coming toward him, a smile on her face, eager to tell him about a bird she’d observed or a new planting in someone’s yard. He didn’t see her.

As he approached the path to Falmouthport Beach, he paused, ready to turn back because Sara avoided the beach, complaining it was too breezy, especially when it was raining. Walking on sand was a struggle and she feared losing her balance. She preferred to stay on the road where the ground was level.

However, at the last moment something urged him to head for the shore. He quickly made his way there, the wind pushing against him. The tide was rolling in and the sound of crashing waves drowned out everything else. The beach was deserted. He shielded his eyes with his hands and searched the coastline.

She stood at the edge of the surf, her thick, white hair loose and flowing in the wind, whipping about her face, her legs splayed, her arms held out for balance. The open ocean rolled and churned toward her, making her seem small and frail. He raced toward her, screaming her name. She turned at his voice and stumbled, falling into the water, landing on her hands and knees.

He plunged into the water and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to her feet. “My God, Sara, what are you doing out here?” he asked, breathless from his efforts. He rubbed her arms in a desperate attempt to make her warm.

“I don’t know,” she cried. “I’m all mixed up.”

The frigid water soaked through his shoes and socks. She shivered against him, her thin, flannel nightgown plastered against her body. He covered her with his jacket and led her away from the water. They labored across the beach to the path that led home.

He draped an arm over her shoulders and they stumbled back to the house. It seemed to take forever. Sara shivered uncontrollably, short of breath, her chest heaving. Jack struggled with every step, winded by the exertion of holding her up and propelling her forward. The rain continued to pelt them, but it had subsided a bit and they were able to maneuver through it with little difficulty.

They finally arrived home. He guided her through the front door and into the family room where he removed her wet nightgown, covered her with a blanket, and led her to the couch, easing her onto the soft cushions.

She cried, making little gasping sounds and repeating, “I’m so mixed up,” in a pitiful voice that chilled him to his core.

He made coffee, brought her a cup, and held it to her lips. She sipped carefully and flopped back against the couch, her blue eyes shiny with tears.

“Oh, Jack,” she moaned. “What’s happening to me?”

Purchase BLUE HYDRANGEAS: Amazon Barnes&Noble

Now thru Nov 24th, get Blue Hydrangeas for just .99¢ and visit Marianne and her friends for a special Facebook event> AlzAuthors: Ending the isolation of Alzheimer’s

~~~

Marianne Sciucco is not a nurse who writes but a writer who happens to be a nurse. A lover of words and books, she dreamed of becoming an author when she grew up but became a nurse to avoid poverty. She later brought her two passions together and writes about the intricate lives of people struggling with health and family issues. Her debut novel “Blue Hydrangeas,” an Alzheimer’s love story, is a Kindle bestseller, IndieReader Approved, a BookWorks featured book, a Library Journal Self-e Selection, a 5-star Readers Favorite, and winner of IndieReCon’s Best Indie Novel Award, 2014. She also has two short stories available on Kindle, “Ino’s Love” and “Collection.” Marianne is currently working on a YA novel, “Swim Season,” about the new girl on the team who challenges a longstanding school record, to be released in 2015. A dedicated Swim Mom for ten years, you can find her during swim season at one of many Skyline Conference swim meets cheering for her daughter and her team. A native Bostonian, Marianne lives in New York’s Hudson Valley, and when not writing works as a campus nurse at a community college. She loves books, the beach, and craft beer, and especially enjoys the three of them together.

Connect with Marianne: Author website Facebook Goodreads Creatspace Youtube

Thanks for stopping by! If you enjoyed this excerpt, please leave a comment.

Barbara

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