fiction

A smart-mouthed P.I. & a by-the-book cop

November 7, 2015 By Barbara 2 Comments

The FALL BOOK BASH is still going strong! Nike Chillemi is with us today to answer a couple questions about her writing and to share an excerpt from DEADLY DESIGNS. She is definitely on my list of favorite mystery authors and her resume is pretty awesome.

Like so many writers, Nike Chillemi started writing at a very young age. She still has the Crayola, fully illustrated book she penned (colored might be more accurate) as a little girl about her then off-the-chart love of horses. Today, you might call her a crime fictionista. Her passion is crime fiction. She likes her bad guys really bad and her good guys smarter and better.

Nike is the founding board member of the Grace Awards and is its Chair, a reader’s choice awards for excellence in Christian fiction. She has been a judge in the 2011, 2012, 2013, and 2014 Carol Awards in the suspense, mystery, and romantic suspense categories; and an Inspy Awards 2010 judge in the Suspense/Thriller/Mystery category. Her four novel Sanctuary Point series, set in the mid-1940s has finaled, won an award, and garnered critical acclaim. HARMFUL INTENT released under the auspices of her own publishing company, Crime Fictionista Press, won in the Grace Awards 2014 Mystery/Thriller/Romantic Suspense/Historic Suspense category. Her new release is DEADLY DESIGNS. She has written book reviews for The Christian Pulse online magazine. She is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW) and John 3:16 Marketing Network.

Connect with Nike online: Author website Twitter Facebook

Give us an insight into your main character. What does he/she do that is so special?

Nike: Veronica “Ronnie” Ingels, the heroine in DEADLY DESIGNS, is a terrific gal. Nobody could want a better or more loyal friend. However, she can be trying and annoying. She’s got a lot of baggage and is socially inept. This comes from her dad having been openly and repeatedly unfaithful to her mom when Ronnie was a pre-teen. Then he divorced her mom and married his secretary. This was not only humiliating for Ronnie and her mom; it left them struggling in poverty. With great effort and determination, Ronnie was able to finish school, go to college, and make a career for herself as a private investigator. She’s got a sassy sense of humor and shoots off zingers to her friends and associates.

Do you have a special time to write? A special place to write?

Nike: I like to write in the morning, but after everyone’s gone to school or to work for the day. I’m retired so that works for me. Everything is quiet then and I can totally concentrate on writing. I find I also get a second wind in the late evening. Usually, things have calmed down by then. The dishes are done and the house has settled down. That’s also a good time to write. As far as a special place to write…I have my computer desk. We live in a two-floor, three bedroom, brick, attached-house in Brooklyn. A three bedroom in the city isn’t as large as one in the suburbs or in a rural area, and our lot is tiny. My writing space is my desk…that’s it. A lot has come out of this little writing space.

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Private investigator Veronica “Ronnie” Ingels teams up with Deputy Dawson Hughes to find a geeky radio broadcaster’s missing wife and young daughter. They fear the woman and child were taken by Islamic terrorists as revenge against the husband’s pro-Israel, conspiracy theory broadcasts.

Hughes has recently been promoted to lieutenant in the Taylor County, Texas Sheriff’s Department. He’s on leave on a special assignment with Authorized Operations (AO), a clandestine, quasi-government agency operating out of a sea-side mansion in Hither Hills, NY. The only thing is, many powerful politicians, and government big-wigs claim Authorized Operations doesn’t exist.

Ronnie is furious at both Hughes and the broadcaster for waiting thirty-six hours to start the search. She knows the longer it takes, the less chance there is of finding the child alive. The problem is, radio talk-show host Ed Harper has been hoping-against-hope that his pot-smoking, model wife is on one of her ‘esoteric experiences’ and has simply taken the child while she romps for a few days. He doesn’t want to seriously consider the other, more hazardous possibility… that his radio broadcasts have angered some very dangerous people.

DEADLY DESIGNS (excerpt)

Dunst, CT

Day One, Friday, Early Afternoon

Veronica “Ronnie” Ingels, Private Detective

What was wrong with Hughes? As a lawman, he had to have known better. He should’ve called in the local police a day and a half ago. What was he thinking? In a missing child case, time was essential, and they’d wasted a whole lot of precious hours.

I chewed off what was left of the pink polish on my thumb nail, gunned my Chevy Cruze Eco, and moved into the left lane on Interstate 95. In a time that now seemed distant, my late husband noted the car’s topaz-blue metallic finish matched my eyes. Of course, he’d been staring into another’s eyes, and I was the last to know about it.

When I resurfaced from my self-depreciating musing, New York State was behind me, and I-95 had become the Connecticut Turnpike. I hit the gas pedal again, but then changed my mind and slowed down. If I got pulled over for speeding that would waste even more time.

After another forty-five minutes, I bore down on the exit for Dunst. Following the instructions of the female voice on my GPS brought me to Main Street of this working-class village. It wasn’t exactly run-down, but could use some renewal in places. But, then, who was I to pass judgment? I lived in Brooklyn where the pigeons were as large as some single-engine planes and the subway rats even larger.

I made a turn onto Pequot Street and three houses later pulled into the driveway of a quaint, gray salt-box house, with miniscule front windows and a tiny garage. I parked behind a black Ford Explorer rental, and a tricked-out Harley Davidson motorcycle.

After grabbing my conceal-and-carry shoulder bag, I got out of the car, and clicked the key fob to lock the doors. When I’m driving long distances it’s more comfortable to have my Glock in a handbag than in a clip-on holster, sticking me in the side mile-after-mile.

I rang the bell and a geeky guy with squarish horn-rimmed glasses opened the door. Dawson Hughes stood several feet behind him.

A shadow passed over the man’s eyes and they narrowed. I couldn’t determine if it was confusion, or guilt and remorse. He took a faltering step back. “Um, come in, won’t you?”

I did, and marched directly to Hughes. “We’re thirty-six hours into a missing child case. Why haven’t the police been called?”

Hughes grimaced and held both hands up, palms out, in a stopping stance. “Whoa. Janus Agard notified the authorities over an hour ago.”

“I’m thrilled somebody finally decided to do something. Just who is Janus Agard, and what’s he got to do with the case?”

*** Purchase DEADLY DESIGNS ***

Hope you enjoyed the interview and excerpt. Please leave a comment below!

Barbara

We’ve got a mystery floater!

November 4, 2015 By Barbara 4 Comments

I’ve enjoyed all of the great excerpts so far in the Fall Book Bash. Some of these authors I’ve read before, but there are a couple I have yet to try. My personal TBR list is growing quickly. So many great books, never enough time…

Today, author Debra Purdy Kong is sharing an excerpt with us from the first book in her new Evan Dunstan Mystery series, DEAD MAN FLOATING. I love a good mystery and I have greatly enjoyed books by Debra in the past, so I can honestly say you will not be disappointed. She is a terrific mystery writer.

Author of six full-length mysteries and over fifty short stories, Debra has won numerous awards for her work. When she’s not writing, she is a substitute facilitator for the Creative Writing program with Port Moody Parks & Recreation. Debra’s a member of Crime Writers of Canada and the Burnaby Writers’ Society. More information about her books and her blog can be found at www.debrapurdykong.com

Also visit her FB Author Page https://www.facebook.com/pages/Mystery-Author-Debra-Purdy-Kong/139005706175139

Or find her on Twitter @DebraPurdyKong

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Security guard Evan Dunstan would lose too much by reporting the body in the stream, so he walked away, until someone found out. When it’s discovered that despised plumbing instructor George Krenn was murdered, Evan has a lot of explaining to do. So does his friend Sully, Krenn’s least favorite student. Evan uses his hacking skills and campus knowledge to keep them both out of jail, but the investigation forces him to question Sully’s innocence.

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DEAD MAN FLOATING (excerpt)

Security guard Evan Dunstan pedaled faster. He didn’t have to check his watch. He knew he was behind schedule thanks to Jenson Freakin’ Morlee, the world’s biggest supervisory douche bag. What in holy hell had he done to piss Jenson off this time? Or was the moron so bored that he thought it would be fun to make the bike patroller ride across Southwest Trades & Technology’s entire campus just to unlock a damn door for the janitors? The foot patrol guard in this zone could have handled the request. Judging from the radio silence, the newbie hadn’t had a busy shift.

Evan raced down the walkway next to the stream that ran along the eastern perimeter of campus. It had rained an hour ago then stopped. But the April night air still felt so damp and heavy that Evan figured the sky would crack open and dump on him any second. Thank god his shift was nearly over.

He’d almost reached the footbridge when a large dark blob in the stream caught his attention. Shit. When would people stop dumping bags of garbage in the damn water? With a new subdivision being built north of campus, a light industrial area to the west, plus six crowded dorms on the premises, the culprit could be anyone. Evan skidded to a stop and frowned. Although floodlights from the engineering building cast some light on the narrow stream, it was too dark to clearly see the bag. Wait a sec. Something was off. What was that white stuff protruding from the bag?

Propping the kickstand, Evan removed the small flashlight attached to his belt then stepped nearer the water. Oh shit! It was a hand! A freakin’ hand! And legs! He moved the flashlight up the body until he spotted the grey fringe circling a bald head that glowed like a moon. Evan shivered. Was the guy alive? He wouldn’t have to perform CPR, would he? That first-aid course last year didn’t go so well after he broke that manikin.

“Hey!” Evan called out. “Can you hear me?”

No response. Sweat broke out on Evan’s back. He glanced around for help but no one was around. Where the hell was the foot patrol guy anyway? He was supposed to help monitor water levels whenever it rained. On his knees, Evan extended his arm and touched the wrist. Oh, man. Ice cold. He lifted the man’s head out of the water and gasped at the vacant eyes. Scrapes ran across the bulbous forehead and nose. Evan yelped and recoiled, landing on his butt.

The widely despised George Krenn, head of the plumbing department, was about to give him nightmares for the rest of his life. Evan felt the dampness seep through his cargo pants, but he was too busy freaking out to care. Shit. Why hadn’t he ignored the blob and kept on riding? Oh, god. This was bad.

Evan spotted a booze bottle on the edge of the bank. Scrambling to his feet, he walked cautiously along the wet grass and then poked the bottle with his toe. Vodka. Krenn’s favourite, and it was nearly empty. So, the asshole had gotten wasted once again. Only this time he lost his balance then fell and drowned in three feet of water. Figured. Krenn was a reckless guy with a God complex.

Evan’s shift ended in less than ten minutes. If he reported this, there’d be questions, then cops, then more questions, and report writing. He hated writing reports. Worse, he’d miss his only chance to hook up with Cecelia, the hottest woman he’d ever met in his life. All because of a nasty dip-shit who’d tried to get him fired two weeks ago?

“Oh, hell no.”

Evan struggled to his feet and scanned the area again. Still no one in sight. No surprise, he supposed. Evening classes ended over an hour ago and there were only two cars in the parking lot next to engineering. Obviously, no one was in the sports field on the other side of the stream. Maybe the emptiness was a good thing. Even if the newbie found Krenn, Jenson would make the whole team stick around to account for every second of their whereabouts.

“Alpha One to Alpha Two.”

Speaking of that ass-wipe…Jenson hadn’t seen something, had he? Oh, no. What about the cameras? Camera twenty-one kept tabs on the east entrance to engineering and twenty-two monitored the parking lot. But both could be panned to cover the field and portions of the stream. Evan wiped his hands on his pants then pressed the button on his shoulder mic.

“Go ahead,” he replied as calmly as he could.

“Have you locked up engineering yet?”

“En route.”

“Change of plans. Head to admin. CFO needs help with the alarm code again. Alpha Three will take care of engineering.”

“Ten-four.”

Grateful to get away from this horror show, Evan pedaled as fast as his rubbery legs would allow.

~~~

After that excerpt you probably want to download the rest of the story and keep reading, right? I know I do. Click on the links below:

Amazon.com

Smashwords

Kobo

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Have a question or comment for Debra or myself? Please do so. We love to hear from readers!

Barbara

Shop while you Read!

November 1, 2015 By Barbara 2 Comments

The FALL BOOK BASH continues! November is already here and if you’re like me, you haven’t even begun to think about Christmas presents. Have I got some stocking stuffers for you!

Books, books, and more books! And what better way to find a great book than by reading a few excerpts. Pull up a chair and jump right in! Don’t forget to check out the last four Fall Book Bash blog post book excerpts as well.

Today, author Tammy A. Doherty is sharing an excerpt from her romantic/suspense novel, SHE’S MINE. This is the first book in Tammy’s new inspirational series, The Mystique of Naultag. Tammy also has an inspirational western series you should check out. (the 1st book is Free) You can find it here.

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SHE’S MINE (Excerpt):

The note was taped to her front door, just as before. Remember where you belong. Jealousy enrages. No mercy will be shown when I take revenge. Fear sent an icy current down Caitlin’s spine, radiating out to her fingertips. She stepped back inside, locking the door.

No one was out there. Not now. Sometime during the night, while she slept unaware, the vicious note had been placed on the heavy wooden door, inside the screen door. Who hated her so much? Marci Coffey? Maybe, but Marci didn’t seem like the type to leave notes. She worked in more devious ways. Besides, Marci had no reason to be jealous.

Janelle, warning her to stay away from Scott? Twelve years of friendship and not one sign of jealousy. Until Saturday. Yet, Janelle hadn’t said she didn’t trust her. Caitlin had assumed the implication.

This note resembled the first one. Thick black marker, bold handwriting. The question of where she belonged.

Adam. “Stay with me Caitlin. We belong together.”

It hadn’t been her imagination playing tricks on Saturday. He was here. Why? She told him she wasn’t interested. Made it quite clear. And though he knew she was moving, she’d never told him to where. Had she?

Tears dripped onto the paper. Get a grip, Caitlin. Call Eric. He’ll know what to do. A police presence should scare off Adam. Just like in Lynn, when her roommate had called the police to complain about Adam sitting out front in his car, all night.

The trembling inside stilled as she looked up Eric’s number. He’d do something to help. She hesitated. What if Marci answered? Maybe Caitlin should call him at the police station since it was official business. Asking for Eric might start a rumor. If Marci found out, she’d have fuel for her anger, even if it was imagined fuel. Talking to someone else and saying she suspected Marci…wouldn’t that get Eric in trouble? Telling a complete stranger about Adam was out of the question. She hadn’t even been able to bring herself to talk with Janelle about the incident.

Caitlin set the cordless phone down on the desk. She couldn’t call anyone. Lord, how could you let this happen? I thought you’re supposed to watch over me and keep me safe?

* * *

Sean stared at the weather report on television. Eighty percent chance of rain today. Twenty percent chance of Caitlin wanting to see me again. Worse if she realized he’d followed her yesterday, even if it was only as far as the emergency room entrance.

Did the doctor prescribe something for her pain? He could call, offer to help change her bandage. What was the worst that could happen?

This was the worst. Caitlin stuck in his thoughts. She wasn’t the first woman he found attractive. Although, since breaking up with Melissa there hadn’t been anyone serious.

Beautiful, flawless Melissa. She wore her wealth with charm and grace, exuding sophistication. And she’d chosen Sean to be at her side. All he had to do was let Melissa mold him into her vision of perfection. She picked out his suits, introduced him to the right people, planned his future. She had painted an exquisite picture in his dreams. But that’s all it had been, a dream. When he had refused to turn the campground into house lots, her anger boiled over.

“Do you know how much that real estate is worth? I deserve that money.” Her face had bloomed red beneath layers of makeup as her voice rose. “After all I’ve done. You were just a dumb hick when we met. Now look at you. Mingling with the crème de la crème. Dining at the poshest restaurants. A position with one of the best firms on Wall Street. I made you who you are today. You owe me.”

Melissa used her father’s money and name to get what she wanted but it wasn’t enough. She needed a husband who could support her opulent way of life. She only saw him as a tool for maintaining her bank account. She was in love with his earning potential. And she was his stepping-stone. He’d been attracted to her family’s money. Her prestige. Her lifestyle. They used one another. The only difference, Melissa did it consciously. Sean had fooled himself into believing he was in love.

Why was he letting a woman monopolize his thoughts and dreams again?

Caitlin was beautiful, but it went beyond that. She didn’t flaunt her father’s wealth and fame. The farm could be sold off as building lots for a great deal of money. Instead, she’d moved into the house, keeping it in the family. She looked comfortable and at ease here in Naultag. Like she belonged.

She had backbone and nerve but got scared of imaginary monsters. She didn’t want anyone’s help, yet managed to get stuck in an unlocked basement. When she interacted with the Bartlett twins she’d let down the bristly facade. Warmth infused her voice, reflected in her eyes.

Who was crazier—a woman who sees imaginary monsters or the man who wanted to vanquish them for her?

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Find Tammy’s books here:

Amazon/Kindle Barnes & Noble (for print book)

Connect with Tammy: Facebook author page Amazon author page

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Thanks for stopping! Have a question for Tammy or just want to say hi? Leave a comment!

Barbara

Autumn, Authors, & Awesome Reads!

October 21, 2015 By Barbara 2 Comments

FALL BOOK BASH!!! For the next two months I have a selection of author friends who will be sharing excerpts from their books with us. Christmas is looming closer and closer and now is a great time to discover new authors and books to add to your “To Be Read” list during the holidays or great gift ideas for family and friends. So, get ready for some fun!

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Felicia N. Mires is with us today, sharing her romantic murder mystery, UNSEEN. Felicia has over twenty published books in the Christian fiction market. She writes romance, mystery, and even has a Mossad spy series that looks really good:) Read the free excerpt and then check out her other books by clicking the links below.

Detective Caleb Forest has just been assigned his first case as lead detective in a murder. He’s also been assigned to teach the ropes of detecting to a romance novelist, Miss Destiny Knox. This tag-along comes with a zany giggle and stilettos that would put a hooker to shame. She’s much too attractive to wander the confines of a police station, inhabited as it is by men with less than stellar appetites. How does Caleb solve a murder when he spends more time explaining his delectable sidekick than he does detecting?

UNSEEN (excerpt):

I know where you are. I bet you thought I forgot about you and what you did to me. You’ll be sorry. It’s only a matter of time. I’m coming for you all. Watch your back. Of course, it won’t do any good. I was always smarter than you. This is really going to be fun.

Caleb Forest swallowed hard and bit back a sharp retort. No, he did not want a tagalong while he investigated a murder. No, he did not want some dorky author writing down everything he said about police procedure. And no, he especially didn’t want some female, some yakkety-yak riding in his car. Was he going to tell his captain that? No. He kept his expression blank as the captain talked on.

“Ya got that, Forest? Me and the little lady’s grandpa go way back. Don’tcha let nothin’ happen to her.”

Caleb nodded. “Yes, sir. You can count on me. How long do you think the uh…little lady will want to accompany me…an hour…two?”

“Don’t be a smart mouth. Her name’s Destiny Knox, and she’ll be riding with you ’til ya solve the new murder.”

“Cap’n, please. I just got that case…what? Two hours ago? It could be weeks…even months before we make an arrest!”

“Whithersoever, Forest, whithersoever.” Captain Jonas smiled without mirth and leaned his chair back so far Caleb thought he might flip it. “Now get outta here. The coroner’s waitin’ for you ta take a gander at that stiff so he can bag it. And Forest…Destiny’s sitting in the corridor. Ferry her along with you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Caleb turned and quietly closed the door behind him. What had he done to deserve this? On Homicide for just over a month, and he was sure to knock heads with the Captain. And, for what? Some old bag with a macabre desire to see a murder scene.

His feet dragged across the fading linoleum as he approached the chairs lining the wall of the precinct. Three women waited, along with two disreputable-looking young men with more tats showing than skin. Of the three females, Caleb discounted the youngest. Though her luxurious brown hair might have been attractive if not teased and streaked with pink glitter, the tight black mini and stilettos bespoke a career in prostitution. She completely ignored him as she filed her long nails. Was she really so jaded at her age? Thank God, he didn’t work Vice.

Caleb tamped remorse and shifted to the other women. Which of the two would hound his heels over the coming days?

“Detective Forest?” The prostitute vaulted out of her chair and held out a hand. “Destiny Knox. I’m so pleased to meet you.”

Caleb’s mouth opened and closed several times before words issued forth. “Uh, yes. Detective Caleb Forest.” He continued to stare, taking in her clear green eyes, heavily painted lids, and her unblemished skin.

She pumped his hand as she chattered on. “I can’t thank you enough for allowing me to ride along on your rounds. The desk sergeant said you just got a new murder. How thrilling! Let me get my notebook. I don’t want to overlook one detail.”

She abruptly twisted away and sashayed back to retrieve a notebook and jacket off the chair she’d vacated. How in the world did she walk in heels that high? She had lovely legs and a very nicely rounded…

Caleb closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and raised his gaze to the teased mass of curls on her head. This was going to be a greater trial that he’d thought. He held out a hand and pointed at the side door. “Over here, Miss Knox.”

The portly desk sergeant smirked as Caleb walked past. He ignored the affront. He’d be doing that a lot if this case dragged, particularly if Miss Knox’ choice of attire remained so visually stimulating. Their elbows bumped, and he looked down then just as quickly glanced away. It wasn’t that her clothes revealed anything. The dress wasn’t particularly low-cut. Miss Knox just happened to be well-endowed, extremely well-endowed. Caleb thought of a few choice words he’d like to say to his new captain. Words he’d never utter.

“…so I thought a first-hand view would give me a better chance of writing something believable.” Bright, trusting eyes gazed up at him.

Caleb pasted on a polite smile and reached for the door handle of his dark blue sedan. He had no clue what Miss Knox had just communicated. If he didn’t want the captain to have a few choice words for him, he’d better start listening.

“Oh, thank you, Detective, but you don’t have to open the door for me. I know you’ve much more important things to worry about.”

Seriously? “Please get in the car, Miss Knox, or I won’t be able to see to those important things.”

She giggled like a schoolgirl and climbed in. “Of course.”

Caleb walked around the back of the car. Thus far, he didn’t see how Destiny Knox had the brains to write a believable mystery. Maybe she was penning a true crime novel. Either way, he didn’t particularly care. He slid into his seat and started the engine, already focused on what he’d find at the scene. A young woman, dead.

Miss Knox pulled on her seatbelt then twisted to face him. “So, Detective. You have a plain car.”

“It’s got all the bells and whistles if I need them. Let me know if you get cold, I’ll turn on the heat.”

“I’m fine. I like that gun in your shoulder strap. Can I hold it?”

“No.”

“Can I see it?”

“No.” From the dancing humor of her eyes, she was laughing at him. He really didn’t want to indulge her.

“Ok. How long have you worked homicide?”

“About a month.”

“Ahh, a newbie. You know much?”

“More than you, apparently.”

Miss Knox giggled again and pulled out her notebook. “Touché. What did you do before?”

“Before I became a cop or before I made detective?”

“You did something else before you became a cop?”

“Nope.”

“Ok…let’s go with what you did before you became a detective.”

“Beat cop…downtown.”

“I guess you’ve seen your share of gang war, drugs, and hookers.”

He grinned over at her. “Yeah. You look just like one. Was that your intent?”

“I didn’t want to stand out at a crime scene.”

“Didn’t want to stand…Where did you think we were going? A brothel?”

“Sorry. Guess I didn’t think that through.”

“We’re visiting a residential area…the victim’s home, and you look like…” He glanced at her bowed head and relented. “Tomorrow, please wear something with a little less…color.”

Her head jerked up. “But this is black.”

With one look, he quailed whatever else she’d been about to say. She nodded. “Yes, sir. Something with less…color. Jeans and a t-shirt?”

“Fine.”

She turned away from him to gaze out the window. She seemed a small, forlorn figure compared to the bubbly young woman who’d gotten into his car. Already her exotic perfume had filled the air. Eventually, he’d have to open a window. When another five minutes passed in utter silence, he sighed. “Ask your questions.”

She fastened on him, eyes hopeful again, then clicked her pen. “What is the system for investigating a murder?”

“System? That’s a misnomer if ever I heard one. There’s no system in place, and we have more than 3,000 jurisdictions in our country.”

“Sheesh! Three thousand? If everybody does it differently, how do criminals ever get caught?”

“There are basic protocols and procedures, but it will make more sense once you see it in action. Essentially, when we get there, the scene will be locked down. No one goes in or out without going on the list and no one touches anything until the entire area is photographed. That should already be in progress.” He slowed as he approached a long line of parked vehicles with flashing lights. “And here we are.” He glanced at her one last time. “Try to stay…Just write your questions and ask me later…please.”

“Yes, Detective.”

Caleb rolled down his window and a rush of cool, fresh air wafted in the car. He flashed his badge at the uniformed officer blocking their advance. “Detective Forest.”

The unie nodded and pointed. “They’re waiting for you, Detective.”

Caleb parked the car and turned to Miss Knox. “Put this on and don’t take it off.”

She reached for the lanyard he held out, slid it over her head, then lifted the plastic I.D. to study it. “Visitor. Trent City Police Department.”

With a nod, Caleb grabbed his voice recorder and camera then climbed out, not waiting to see if Miss Knox followed. When he reached the yellow taped-off line, he held up his badge again. “Detective Caleb Forest and Destiny Knox. Miss Knox, please show your driver’s license to the officer.”

The young man copied their information and allowed them to pass. Caleb clipped his badge at his waist and lifted the yellow tape for Miss Knox. Briefly, he studied the faces in the crowd, the usual nosy old lady, an elderly couple, some housewives…just who you’d expect to see home at ten in the morning. Any one of whom could be a suspect or a curious onlooker. He snapped pictures of each. From the corner of his eye, he noted Miss Knox open her mouth, but she raised her notebook instead and wrote something. He hid a smile.

Zack Pemberly strode toward him and gestured at Miss Knox, his blond brows raised in question. Caleb rolled his eyes. He was never going to live this down.

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Links to UNSEEN:

Amazon USA

Amazon UK Amazon Canada

Barnes and Noble

Kobo Books

Find Felicia online:

Website: Felicia Mires | Author of Christian Romance For Any Genre

Twitter Facebook GoodReads

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Thanks for stopping! If you have a question for Felicia or just want to say hi, please leave a comment below!

Barbara

Double Barrel Mysteries Sneak Peek!

March 16, 2015 By Barbara 8 Comments

The 1^st book in my new Double Barrel Mysteries series, is set to release April 14^th! ROADKILL will be available just in time for a little tax relief. No, it won’t help you pay the taxes, but it will give you a great, fun story to distract you from the agony of paying taxes. Books do that and more.

To get you in the mood for the kind of romance/mystery I write and to introduce you to my husband and wife sleuth team, Blake and Shelby Gunner, here is an excerpt from ROADKILL. Enjoy!

Chapter One

April 2014

When I was five, my mother died of pancreatic cancer. My father, vying for a Purple Heart in suffering, moved us from everything we knew and loved to a bleak, small town in the Iron Range of Minnesota. With nothing much to do there but read, my love of the written word went into overdrive. Being the daughter of a literature professor, the books lying around were not written by Dr. Seuss.

My name is Shelby Gunner and I’m the daughter of an alcoholic. I say that up front because it colors everything about me. For good or bad, my past experiences have much to do with who I’ve become. I love eggrolls, big band music, and Shakespeare. I detest the smell of Listerine in the morning, the song from the Scooby Doo cartoon, and blue-eyed pity. Some day I may tell you why.

I married the man of my dreams three years ago. Blake is a detective with the Minneapolis Police Department. He loves me, his job, and singing in the shower. Loud and proud. He has the mistaken notion that if some big record company exec happens by our home on a summer day when the windows are thrown open wide, he’ll pound on the front door and beg my husband to sign a record contract. The first po-po rappin’ about slappin’ on cuffs and making arrests. I’m sure the boys in the ’hood will be all over that. Did I mention that Blake is slightly deranged?

Blake and I were married on one of the coldest days of the year, and the same day three years later was no exception. April in Minnesota is often schizophrenic. One day it can be sixty degrees, the next it’s dropped to single digits and blowing snow. But despite blustery wind gusts rattling sleet against the windows, inside our cozy townhome, an electric log glowing in the corner fireplace, and Blake and I cuddled into a pile of down pillows on the bed, it was as warm as a summer day.

Curled together, my head snug against his bare chest and his arms around me, we lazily watched the sports channel on our flat screen television with the sound turned off. Blake loved hockey almost as much as he loved being a detective, so getting him to turn the sound off and gift me even half his attention on our special day was a huge win for me.

While The Wild moved a puck around the ice with lightening speed and got into minor scuffles with the opposing team, our sporadic conversation involved where we’d go on vacation once the case Blake was working on was resolved and whether or not we should get a dog in the near future.

“So I thought…” I paused and ran one nail lightly down his cheek to get his attention, “maybe we should stop by the animal shelter tomorrow and see if our puppy soul-mate is there just waiting for his new family…”

Blake Gunner, my husband and best friend–since I didn’t yet have a dog–pumped his fist in the air. “Yes!”

“Yes?” I frowned and pushed up on one elbow. I couldn’t believe it. He’d agreed so quickly and easily. I thought it would be much harder to get him to see our need of a dog. I hadn’t even tried my misty-eyed look on him yet.

“Hmm?” He peeled his gaze away from the screen for a second and looked up at me as though just noticing I was still there. “Did you say something?”

I rolled my eyes. “I said, this game is so exciting I can hardly stand to watch.”

“Babe, you know I’d do anything for you,” he said, managing to plant a quick kiss on my cheek before his eyes slanted back to the screen, “but can we do it after the game is over? I promise I’ll…” his words trailed off and he was gone.

Now you might think this story isn’t going anywhere, but that’s when the phone rang. If I knew then what I know now, I never would have answered it. God knows we humans would never choose the storm, but without rain there is no growth. Living things flourish in adversity. The strongest trees are regularly buffeted by the wind. Humans are no exception.

By mutual consent, we had both turned off our cell phones before climbing into bed two hours earlier, so hearing the home phone ring in the hallway outside the room was a little surprising. We’d talked about canceling the landline. The only people who called that number were either affiliated with a political campaign or trying to sell something… which is actually the same thing. Oh – and of course, someone with an imagined emergency who couldn’t get through on our cells.

Blake looked toward the open doorway. “Guess one of us should get that, huh?” He didn’t budge an inch.

I released a dramatic sigh and rolled to the side of the bed, planting my feet on the floor. With my new gauzy pink robe wrapped around my naked form, I moved past the end of the bed, blocking his view of the game for a split second, just long enough for the Blackhawks to plow past the Wild’s defenses and score. He yelped and threw up his arms in frustration.

“Oh my goodness!” I said, pausing in the doorway, hands on my hips. “You’d think there was no such thing as instant replay.”

He tossed a pillow playfully at my head and snatched up the remote, clicking the sound back on. With the announcers shouting over one another in the background and a grin on my face, I stepped into the hallway and picked up the ringing telephone. Boy, someone was persistent. “Hello?”

“Shelby, baby! How ya doing? Called to wish you and Gun a happy anniversary! Can I speak with him a minute?” The overly friendly tone of Blake’s partner made me scrunch up my nose like I’d smelled a dead rat. He might be a good detective, but he was a terrible liar.

“What do you want, Donny? You agreed to leave Blake alone today. You have him at your beck and call 364 days a year. I only have him for one.”

“I know, I know. And I’m real sorry. I wouldn’t interrupt your special day for anything other than a true blue emergency. I swear.”

“Yeah, sure.” I covered the mouthpiece with three fingers. “Blake! It’s for you!” I called out, wondering if my husband would be upset about having to cut our anniversary short or only because he’d miss the end of the hockey game.

Don was still saying something to me and I put the phone back to my ear. “…make it up to you, ’cause someday I’ll meet the right woman and you can interrupt our anniversary. I promise.”

I laughed. “Donny, you will never meet the right woman. There is no such person.”

The commercials had come on in the nick of time. My husband reluctantly slid off the bed and followed me into the hall. I handed him the phone as Don started to explain to me, for probably the billionth time, why chicks just didn’t get him. I know I didn’t. He was a nice enough guy if you liked overbearing, mannerless, thugs, who’d obviously been raised by a colony of Neanderthals, but most contemporary women didn’t. As my husband’s partner, I knew Donny would always have his back and even take a bullet for him if the opportunity arose. Unfortunately, women found him about as attractive as a plate of greens when they’re craving chocolate. It tastes bad and gives you gas.

“Hey,” My loquacious husband said, phone to his ear. He moved back toward the television and sat on the end of the bed. He nodded a couple of times and then glanced at me with that quirk of his eyebrow that used to make my heart race, but now made it sink like a stone. He was measuring me up for disappointment.

I sighed and sat beside him, resting my head on his shoulder while he finished his conversation. It wasn’t every day we got to enjoy spending the afternoon in bed together, even if it was mostly spent watching a hockey game. As anniversaries go, this one hadn’t been so bad.

Blake worked crazy hours as a homicide detective. If there was a fresh case to solve, he worked day and night, obsessed with catching the bad guy or gal so the victim could rest in peace. He said a murder had to be solved within a few days or the leads turned cold, and he couldn’t stand the thought that one of his cases would be filed away in a box and stored in a dark room, until the murderer was eaten up with guilt and walked in to confess. Which is what his partner would refer to as a nut-job miracle. Like the sighting of a unicorn or three-headed toad – it rarely happened.

“I’ll meet you there,” he finally said and clicked off. His smile was lopsided and meant to convey regret, but I knew he was also eager to be off to catch a killer. “Sorry, hon,” he said, standing up and pulling me into his arms. “I’ll make it up to you. Maybe we can have a late dinner. I’ll pick up carryout from China Jade on my way home… with a double order of eggrolls.” His kiss was quick before he moved to the closet and pulled on a pair of faded jeans. He took a blue knit shirt from a hanger and tugged it over his head.

I watched him dress in silence. This scenario was becoming a regular thing. Murders were up in the city, which meant homicide detectives were overworked and in short supply, and homicide detective’s wives were left alone to their own devices.

Mine was theatre.

Blake adjusted his shoulder holster before shrugging into his favorite brown leather jacket, then went and looked in the mirror over the bathroom sink to run a comb through his sandy-colored hair. His hair had a slight curl to the ends and always managed to look a bit messy and out of place, shaggy over the collar and forehead like a thirty-year-old Dennis the Menace. I loved it. He retrieved his badge and wallet from the dresser drawer and slipped them into the breast pocket of his jacket.

“I hope Donny’s snitch is right and the perp is still holed up in that motel where he was spotted. Maybe we can throw his butt in jail tonight and you and I can get a good night’s sleep for once.” He pulled me close again.

“If anyone can wrap this up in record time, it’s you Gun,” I said, using the nickname they called him on the job. “Come home safe. I’ll be waiting. Like always.”

“You’re never waiting. I bet before I pull out of the garage you’re dressed and ready to run off to that theatre you love so much.” He grinned and planted a kiss on the end of my nose.

I followed him down the hall to the kitchen and watched him grab a banana to eat on the way. I flashed him a smile. “Sid did say we could use another practice.”

“That’s my girl.” He opened the garage access door. “Better to stay busy than sit around and worry, like some cops’ wives.”

“Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say goodnight till it be morrow,” I quoted softly, and felt a sudden tingle of fear at Juliet’s famous line.

Blake didn’t seem to notice. He blew me a kiss and went out to his truck.

I stood rooted to the spot, a definite chill moving up my spine as gooseflesh broke out along my arms and legs. I didn’t believe in omens but… I glanced at the kitchen clock. Three minutes before three in the afternoon, on our third anniversary, three days before the opening of Romeo and Juliet at the Rapturous Dinner Theatre, I had a premonition that my husband was in danger. Three had always been bad luck for me. Well, sort of. When I was thirteen – which has a three in it – I fell from the schoolyard monkey bars and broke my ankle, thus ending my ballet career forever.

Rubbing away the gooseflesh on my arms, I shook my head, instantly dispelling such thoughts. It wasn’t a premonition; it was an actual gust of cold air from the open garage door when Blake went out, and me in a sheer robe. As Blake liked to say, my inner drama queen was showing again. I hurried to the bedroom to dress into something warm, comfortable, and appropriate for spending the evening rehearsing lines with Sid and the rest of the cast. That old theatre could be pretty drafty as well.

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Barbara