Here’s the one-page resource for everything you need to know about me and my books…especially how to buy them!
I’m one of several indie authors who are posting a sneak peek at their latest work today. You can find a whole lot of other great authors RIGHT HERE.
And I’ve got a preview for you from my upcoming book, “Dream Vacation”. Enjoy!
It’s four-thirty when I get back, and Grace still isn’t home. “She called right after you left. She said they going to stay at the mall until it closes at five and then start on home,” my mother informs me when I ask.
I start preparing dinner, and five o’clock comes and goes. By the time everything is finished and I’m dishing up places, six o’clock has come and gone, too. We should have heard something from Grace by now.
I call her cell phone, and it rings several times with no answer. That’s against the rules. One of the conditions of giving her the phone was that whenever Brian or I call, she has to pick up, no matter what she’s doing.
She’s never lied to us – not seriously, anyway. She’s never skipped school, or broken curfew or any of the other usual teenage things.
As far as I know.
The twins come in, attracted by the smell of pot roast. Steffy asks, “Where’s Grace?”
“That’s a good question,” I say, a lot more calmly than I feel. I go into the living room, and pick up the Entertainment section of the newspaper with trembling hands. It takes me just a few seconds to confirm my suspicion: there’s no Will Smith movie playing at the theater up in Beacon.
Which means Grace didn’t go there. And I also suspect that she’s not with her friend Tammie, either. Five minutes and a quick call over to the Meitners later, I know I’m right.
I look down at my hands to find them balled into fists. How could she lie to me like that? I trusted her! I’ve trusted her just the same as all my other children – just the way my parents trusted me! How could she betray that?
It was deliberate, too. She planned it all out. She knew I wouldn’t call to check up and confirm she was really going with Tammie and her brother. And she called this afternoon, to keep up the lie.
And then something more worrisome comes into my mind. What if something happened to her after that call? Unless she’s actually running away from home – and no matter how distraught she is about Will Harper, that’s just inconceivable – she must have planned to be home at a reasonable hour.
But she’s not. Why? Where is she? Is she not answering her phone because she can’t? Because she’s lost it, or it’s been stolen or she’s…?
So the first/second draft of “Dream Vacation” is done and the book is off to my fantastic beta readers now. We’re still very much on track for the October 31st launch….
And the audiobook of “Waking Dream” is in Amazon’s hands as they do quality control. It should be out sometime in the next two weeks…
Design: Robin Ludwig of Robin Ludwig Design, Inc
Release Date: October 21, 2014
Too many betrayals.
One last chance.
a cold winter day, a woman calls a number halfway across the world.
fourteen years, Laura St. Bride hears the voice she has never
forgotten, the voice she will remember with her last breath…
when the love of your life
is the last person you should love?
great family estate in Virginia.
sisters growing up in the shadow of their father’s obsessive drive to recapture
his lost muse, the woman he threw into the cold Irish sea.
scion of an old family, falling in love with the wrong sister, blind to the ice
at her core.
woman haunted by a moment of blood and violence, when she reached out and took
a man who didn’t belong to her.
man living a life of regret and sacrifice, given a second chance to claim the
woman he should have loved all along.
across a crowded London square, unknowing, unseeing, the serenity of her face
captured in the flat surface of the theatrical poster. The light noon rain ran
down in small diagonal rivers across her, crinkling the smooth plain of her
forehead and the gentle cut of her jaw. She wept, large, abandoned tears that
warred with the lovely turn of her mouth.
they called her.
had come to Leicester Square, hunting for half-price theater tickets,
gravitated to her, beckoned by her eyes, lured on by the legend of mist and
mystery that surrounded her. A few balked at the price of “An Intimate Evening
with Cat Courtney.” Others realized to their sorrow that they had conflicting
tickets, meals planned with in-laws, flights to catch. Three nights only,
announced the poster, and this, unfortunately, was the last night.
them all, oblivious to their concerns, uncaring of the rain wetting her face.
tourist who came walking into the square, his daughter by his side, did not
notice her at first. The rain had stopped for a few minutes, and other matters
engaged him: folding up a handy umbrella, glancing at his watch, reading a
guide book over his daughter’s shoulder. For one minute longer, he remained
merely a tourist on a much-needed vacation. For one minute longer, the Great
Cat never crossed his mind.
could wait, and for this man she would wait forever.
a decade before, both of them reeling from the blood of their folly, in a
deserted cottage on a desolate shore on the other side of the world. Had she
eyes to see, she would know him instantly.
ended. Eventually, Richard Ashmore lifted his head, his eyes scanning across
the theatrical posters, in search of an evening’s entertainment suitable for a
young girl. The titles made little impression – Les Miserables, The
Graduate, Noises Off – until he saw her and everything around her blurred
Julie touched her hand to his. “Do you think we can get tickets?”
Richard closed his fingers around hers, a talisman to ward memory off. “Don’t
get your hopes up, Julie. Her concerts usually sell out.”
there,” suggested his daughter, pointing across the square to the ticket kiosk.
“Maybe someone bought tickets and can’t go. Maybe someone dropped their
tickets, and someone turned them in. Maybe —”
maybe,” he teased, but already he was allowing her to drag him across the
stones towards the waiting queue.
places in line. Julie was glowing with excitement, the happiest Richard had
seen her since the morning before her grandparents had died. He was less
optimistic. Others ahead of them had requested tickets, and the possibility of
stray tickets lessened as they moved up the line. He sought to cushion her
against disappointment by letting her plan the afternoon. They were only a
couple of blocks from the National Gallery, or would she prefer to hop the tube
Julie immediately. “And tea, Dad.” She leaned in against him to look at his
guidebook. “I have my birthday money from Lucy. I want to get something to wear
to the concert.”
kitten.” He wished that they had never seen the poster. Selfish, yes, but if
meeting her eyes in a poster disturbed him, how would he feel to see her again,
even in the black anonymity of an audience? Better not to know, better to go
back to an occasional evening of listening to her songs in the dark and trying
to make some sense of what had happened.
endured enough recently.
in line now, behind a couple attempting to get tickets to the latest Andrew
Lloyd Webber. Good luck, thought Richard, who had tried for three months. They
bought him a few minutes of reprieve while they settled for a sex comedy
Courtney,” he said, and if the gods had been with him, just this once, he would
have been told in that inimitable British way, Sorry, sir, but that show has
just sold out….
tickets have been turned in,” and his fate was sealed. He and Julie looked at
the seating chart. She sparkled as she so seldom did, and as he paid for the
tickets he thought that he would bear any pain, any guilt, to see that look on
seats,” said the man behind him, another American from the sound of him. “I’ve
seen her before, and she’s worth twice the price.”
usual shyness with strangers. “I can’t wait! I’ve wanted to see her for so long
Southern accent said kindly, “You know, darlin’, you’re just the picture of
Julie. “I’m glad I am. She’s my aunt.”
Ashmore looked at the tickets and realized, with a shock, that it was June 9,
and he had been married for seventeen years.
his life, Richard Ashmore had made three mistakes with women. Not that three
was so unusual; no man reached his thirties without suffering the particular
pain that women could inflict and without inflicting it in return. He was
luckier than most men, perhaps, for he had erred early and grievously, and
caution had been driven into him like a bullet. He carried with him permanent
reminders of his follies: a marriage gone disastrously wrong, the painful
conscience that he had not always been the upright man his daughter loved, a
shoulder that ached in cold weather.
unattainable once attained, a monumental mistake made in all the first flush of
adolescent desire and pride. Too young to marry, too blindly in love to
recognize the ice behind her eyes, he had turned a deaf ear to his father’s
warning that his princess was hollow at her core.
silver-quick smile and hungry eyes, and his own need for the warmth of a
woman’s arms. The dangerous combination of a magnum of champagne on New Year’s
Eve and three years of exile from his marriage bed had erupted into a
springtime of madness. The gods had demanded their due: a marriage wrecked
beyond salvage, a family foundered, two young women cast adrift.
Oh, but even now, all these years later, he stood before her picture, and he
still did not understand. She watched him from the poster, more animated in
flat gray and white than he had ever known her. But he knew those eyes. He knew
how they adored him, how they burned in fever and desire, how they haunted odd
moments of the day and dark pockets of the night.
Laura the Cat.
had a special weakness for shuttered eyes that invited a man in with promises
implied and unkept, for wild autumn hair spread gloriously across a pillow, for
tall, elegant figures and clear, sweet voices and beguiling, destructive ways.
They all three had this and more in common, and why not? They were sisters,
Forrest, a lead writer/editor for an international information company, writes
about income tax but prefers to dream of heroes and heroines and grand romance.
With the publication of her trilogy, she checks off the top entry on her bucket
list. She lives in north Texas with her family and cat and has a five-year plan
for becoming a full-time novelist and editor of indie fiction. When she isn’t
working or writing, she amuses herself with reading, needlepointing, tramping
around historical sites and houses, and outbidding everyone who gets in her way
The first draft of “Dream Vacation” is just about finished – I’ve only got about 5,000 more words to go and it’ll be done.
At the moment, it’s the shortest of the books. It’s going to come in probably right around 80,000 words once the front matter, acknowledgements and everything else is added in (for comparison, “Dream Reunion” (book six) is currently the shortest book, at 84,000 words; “Dream Family” (book four) is the longest, at 109,000).
And the audiobook for “Waking Dream” is almost done, too. I’m just waiting on final edits from my fantastic narrator and then it’ll be approved and in the hands of Amazon’s Quality Control people…
September 30th 2014
Publisher: Infinite Ink Books
Pre-Order on Amazon
Her name is Evangeline and she is Nephilim.Evie
is stuck in the Underworld until she can find a way to be released from
her new found role as Hades. And the longer she remains in Hades the
more secrets are revealed about her true origins. A confrontation with a
Dark Angel brings two revelations to the Evie – the true identity of
Daniel, the Master of the Irin’s assistant, and who is he to Evie
While a trip into the depths of Hades leads Evie into the fiery depths
of Tartarus and eventually to the eternal peace of Elysium, will Evie
find the peace she seeks? And what about the smoking hot Julian, god of
Hades? How far is he willing to go to keep Evie at his side?
Her name is Evangeline and she is Nephilim.
to the Brotherhood Irin and together with all the other Angels of the
world she is protector to humanity, protector against evil. But evil has
found its way into the Brotherhood. Someone has murdered her guardian
and Marcellus, the New Master makes demands of the warriors that go
against all they stand for. Demands Evie just can’t carry out.
uncovers Marcellus’ plan to collect a set of special seals, but when a
high-level demon reveals the truth behind the Seals of Hades, Evie know
there is no way she can allow the Master of the Irin to get his hands on
them. But will keeping the Seals from Marcellus cause her to sacrifice
more that she should? With the life of Julian the uber-hot King of Hades
at stake, will vengeance for her guardian’s death be enough or will she
need more to satisfy her Immortal soul?
I have been a writer from the time I was old enough to recognize that reading
was a doorway into my imagination. Poetry was my first foray into the art of
the written word. Books were my best friends, my escape, my haven. I am
essentially a recluse but this part of my personality is impossible to practice
given I have two teenage daughters, who are actually my friends, my tea-makers,
my confidantes… I am blessed with a husband who has left me for golf. It’s a
fair trade as I have left him for writing. We are both passionate supporters of
each others loves – it works wonderfully…
resides in South Africa where my old roots still remain, and my heart still
longs for the endless beaches and the smell of moist soil after a summer
downpour. My love for Ma Afrika will never fade. The other half of me has been
transplanted to the Land of the Long White Cloud. The land of the Taniwha,
beautiful Maraes, and volcanoes. The land of green, pure beauty that truly
inspires. And because I am so torn between these two lands – I shall forever
I’m participating in Sneak Peek Sunday – a whole bunch of great authors post a short preview from their latest work. you can go HERE to see all the other great books. And you can just keep on reading for mine!
That would be DREAM VACATION, the eighth book of the Dream Series. This is a lighter moment, not quite midway through the book…
We all take our places, and my parents serve dinner to everyone in turn – it’s Dad’s famous lasagna. This is our last dinner all together for a couple of weeks, after all. Somewhat to my surprise – and Chrissy’s disappointment – nothing is spilled on the floor. And my mother-in-law even restrains herself from any criticism of the way I keep my house.
Verbally, anyway. She does glare very pointedly a couple of times at the twins, who are sitting on the floor rather than in chairs. I think it’s safe to assume that nobody ever ate while sitting on the floor at her house. But – maybe this is bad parenting, but I have to pick my battles – it’s easier to let them sit on the floor for the occasional meal than to have a major fight about it. I can live with Helen’s judgment – if that’s the only thing she can find fault with, I’m doing pretty well.
But that’s wishful thinking, of course. After dinner, Helen hands out two envelopes: one to Brian, and one to Grace. They both very carefully open them up, and inside are – I don’t understand – credit cards?
“There’s no better city on Earth for shopping than Paris,” Helen says, probably the hundredth time I’ve heard her say it. “It’s a gift. Five hundred dollars for each of you.”
That’s – wow. That’s totally extravagant. I count – Brian has four cards, and Grace has five in her hand. That’s $4,500 – I don’t even know what to say. Except – I do have a question, but Grace asks it first.
“Thank you, Grandma,” Grace says. “But why’d you give the cards to me?”
She’s beaming as she answers, all kindness and benevolence. “Well, they’re prepaid credit cards, five hundred dollars each, one for each of you. Like I said. Brian has the cards for himself, Ben, Matty, and for you, Howard,” she says, smiling indulgently at my father. “He’ll know what to buy. And, Grace, you have the cards for yourself and Lizzie and Steffy, and your mother and Betty.” What? Why – never mind. I already know the answer. “I’d give them to your mother, but I know she doesn’t have the time to keep up with the latest fashions. I think you’ll do a wonderful job picking out clothes for your sisters and your mother and Betty.”
Well, if that doesn’t win the all-time prize for sticking the knife in with a smile, I don’t know what does. “Thank you, Helen,” I say, forcing a smile myself. What else can I do? Especially because – if I’m really honest with myself – she’s probably right.
You can find all the Dream Series books on Amazon - just click here!
I’m happy to be hosting a stop in the book tour for Voss Foster and his new book, “The Jester Prince”
Hands covered Tobias’ eyes. His heart raced, muscles tightened. Until he drew a breath. A familiar smell. A good smell. Cheap tobacco and clay. “Marley.”
Marley let go of Tobias and slid around to the front. Tobias looked him up and down, taking in the image. They hadn’t seen each other since setup the night before. Too long for Tobias. He followed the lines of Marley’s stout legs, the ample curve of his hips, the slight bulge of his midsection. Strong chest, arms hardened and scarred from heat, and a soft face, scruff across the chin and cheeks. He swept the floppy cap from his head and pulled out a thin, hand-rolled cigarette and a silver lighter. “You were pretty damn good, babe.” He held the cig between his lips and lit it, the orange tip burning down as he took a long drag. “But you’re good every night.”
Marley, bastard son of King Jester. And now he’s been stolen, kidnapped. But why? Why is he important? What’s one more half-breed child to King Jester, among his hundreds? Or one more soldier among thousands?
No one knows where Marley fits in, but Toby doesn’t care. Toby knows the only thing that matters: he will get Marley back.
Can he succeed? Find out in The Jester Prince, Book Two of the King Jester Trilogy.
With the destruction of Zirkua Fantastic, King Jester, the spirit of discord, has been unleashed once more upon the Earth. Only Toby, a fresh, untrained immortal, and the other former members of Zirkua Fantastic dare to stand against his chaos. But their hold is tenuous, and they are only truly safe from his power within the bounds of their camp. King Jester grows more powerful and more dangerous with each passing day. But he’s made one mistake. That mistake could be his undoing. He’s stolen Toby’s soul mate, Marley. When he discovers Marley’s location, Toby knows what he has to do. He will rescue Marley, even if it means he has to face King Jester alone.
But the others don’t let him go at it alone. Marley has information about the resistance. They can’t afford to let him stay in King Jester’s control. In desperation, the immortals raise an army to storm the compound. But will it be enough to challenge the embodiment of chaos himself? All they can do is hope. Hope and put their faith in love.
Available through Prizm Books. you can buy it right here:
And you can follow Voss at his website: http://vossfoster.blogspot.com/
“What’s going on, Toby?” Yvette, wrapped in a thin blanket, sat on one of the boxes Toby had pulled from the old prop truck. “Is something wrong?”
Beside her, Han stretched up, yawning. “Seriously. If it’s not that important, I’d like to sleep.”
“It’s about Marley.” They both sat straight up, eyes widening. Toby let them wait, spent his time lighting a fire in the middle of their tiny circle. Not a big fire, nothing to attract attention — no one else could know about this. He took as much time as he dared, making sure the tinder kept the flame. But the whole while, Han and Yvette stared down at him. He felt it in the chill on the back of his neck, saw it when he dared to glance up.
At last, he couldn’t waste any more time. He sat across from them, hands on his knees. “Marley’s dying.”
Shivering, Yvette rushed to his side, kneeled. “How do you know that?”
“Coyote, that guy that showed up today, he showed me. And he’s dying.” He tried to take a breath, calm himself, but the smoke blew straight into him. He sputtered, tears streaming down his face. “He’s dying, and I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”
“But what can you do?”
He wiped his eyes. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you.” He grabbed Yvette’s hand and gestured her back around the fire with a tilt of his head. Tobias cleared his throat. “You two can’t say anything about this, all right? Harlan and Madame Zerga wouldn’t understand. They can’t know.” They didn’t say anything, just stared down at the ground. Toby scooted closer to them. “Guys, please. I need someone else with me in this.”
Han nodded. “Of course.” He patted Toby’s shoulder. “I’ll help.”
“Yeah,” said Yvette. “I guess I will, too.”
Toby sighed. They agreed, but the knot of tension remained. They don’t want to betray Harlan. “I can’t let him die.” The thought chilled him again. “You two are the only ones I can even think about trusting with this. I need you.”
“What are we actually doing?” asked Yvette.
“I… we have to get him back. I just need to know I have you two with me. I’ll come up with a real plan later. But do I have you?”
Silence. They’ll say no. It was too much. They were humans: they’d die as soon as Coyote caught a whiff of them. They wouldn’t go against Harlan and Zerga, not after everything Zirkua had done for them.
Han stood first, put his hand back on Toby’s shoulder. “All right.”
Yvette came up on his other side. “You look shocked. Did you think we’d say no?”
This post is just one stop on the weekly Book Hooks hop, where a whole lot of great authors (including me!) post an excerpt from their latest work. You can go here to see who else is participating and read their work.
As for me, I’ve for something for you from the forthcoming eighth book of the Dream Series, “Dream Vacation”. This is from just before the midway point of the book:
Those herbal supplements really do work – I feel myself yawning now.
I’m sure the glass of white wine is helping the supplement right along. Hopefully we’ll all be asleep soon, so we’ll be as rested as possible when we land in Paris, six hours from now. I just wish I were falling asleep next to Brian…
Sara is in her seat, securely buckled in, Ben and Lizzie next to her, both sleeping soundly. Sara herself is wide-awake; the loud bang and sudden jolt a moment ago saw to that. She cranes her neck to see past her children and through the window of the plane. She can’t see the wing, or the engine; both of them are obscured by thick black smoke.
A fire? The engine is on fire? It’s the only explanation Sara can think of. And yet, she is not terribly upset by the idea. Obviously, she realizes, it’s not good, because the plane only has two engines, and presumably it needs both of them to stay in the air.
But she knows that she’s not in danger, nor are Ben or Lizzie, who haven’t even stirred at the noise or the turbulence. She does not fear for Grace or Steffy, or for the other three hundred people on the plane. Because Sara knows that her husband will take care of everything.
And there he is, making his way to the emergency exit over the wing. He’s got a cable clipped to his belt, and he carries a fire extinguisher in one hand and a toolbox in the other. Sara knows Brian never worked on this model of airliner, but she also knows that he can fix anything aircraft-related. He pulls the handle on the emergency exit and shoves it open. He’s out and closing the door behind him before any air can be sucked out of the cabin.
Somewhere in her mind, Sara is fairly certain it probably doesn’t work like that; that there’s so much air pressure that you could never budge the door at this altitude. But logic has no place now, not while she’s watching her husband walking out onto the wing, fire extinguisher shooting off, working to save her, and their children and everyone else on the plane…