Out of work fashion expert Samantha Kidd is strapped,
until the buyer of handbags for a hot new retailer turns up murdered.
When Samantha is recruited for the job, it comes with a caveat: she's
expected to find some answers. The police name a suspect, but Samantha's
convinced the label doesn't fit. With patent determination and a tote
bag of tenacity, she turns to a sexy stranger for help. As the walls
close around her like a snug satin lining, Samantha must get a handle on
the suspects, or risk being caught in the killer's clutches.
About the author:
I grew up reading both Trixie Belden mysteries and Vogue magazine and learned how to spot a counterfeiting ring and accessorize a wardrobe. When it was time to find a career I headed out to the mall...and nine years later was a buyer for one of the top luxury stores in the country. But while Paris, Milan, and New York satisfied my appetite for fashion, my passion for creativity went unfed. Now I sell fine apparel by day and uncover crimes of fashion by night, in the form of mystery writing. I still love accessories, only now some of them are accessories to murder.
Brian Connolly's latest book titled, ALPHIE, A Yellowstone wolf pup, was published in February of this year. He has written several books on the subject of wolves, but what I want to share with you today is part of his essay about a trip with his five-year-old grandson to Yellowstone. They made the trip just after Connolly underwent radiation treatments for cancer. He wanted to make memories with his grandson while he still had time. The essay was written for The Yellowstone Park Foundation and will give you an idea of his passion for wolves and his love of writing. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
About the author:
Brian A. Connolly graduated from Edinboro University in Pennsylvania where he received the Finnegan Award for Poetry. He completed his graduate work at State University of New York at Oswego and Cortland, Elmira College and UMass at North Adams. In addition to being a Project Adventure teacher, Mr. Connolly taught creative writing in NYS public schools for twenty-eight years before moving to Bend, Oregon to write. He is the father of Nathan and Heather. Bradley's Christmas Adventure, a children's book of his, illustrated by Gina Diamanti, was published in 1990. Wolf Journal, his first novel was selected as a finalist for the Oregon Book Award. A study guide for Wolf Journal was published in 2005. His short stories and poems have appeared in many literary magazines from Maine to Washington. Mr. Connolly grew up in Port Allegany, Pennsylvania, the setting for Not Far From Town.
As an avid wolf watcher, he spends three months each summer and one month during the winter helping field biologists spot wolves and report wolf behavior in Yellowstone National Park. It was his observations of the Druid Peak Pack, the Slough Creek Pack, the Agates, the Molly Pack, the former Geode Pack and the Leopold Pack that inspired Wolf Journal.
Excerptof Arlie and Papa in Yellowstone
by Brian A. Connolly
August, 2011
The most difficult part of the cancer diagnosis in April of 2011 was telling my grandson Arlie that we would have to postpone our Yellowstone trip. For two years this little guy, now five,practiced using the high powered scope I had set up in my living room. Standing on a short step ladder, he honed his skill on chipmunks and chickadees. In the Deschutes National Forest near Bend, Oregon where we live, he learned to read tracks and identify scat.
He has his own room at my house which is not far from where he lives with his mom and dad. He called me into his room and pointed at June 15th on his calendar. “We better cross this off, Papa,” he said. We moved the date to July 15th. Because of the twenty-five radiation treatments that I needed for ‘Papa’s bump’, as Arlie called it, we crossed that date off, too. But then a window opened up in August. My surgeon in Portland said that the sarcoma tumor just above my right knee needed to settle down for three weeks after radiation ended on August first, my birthday. Arlie and I loaded up the truck and headed for Yellowstone on August fourth.
Even though radiation treatments sap energy, I knew that this might be the only chance to share my favorite place on the planet with Arlie. The results of surgery were uncertain. Would they get all the cancer cells? Would the cells enter the blood stream and lodge in the lungs? Would I be able to walk or hike afterward? Would I lose the leg? Arlie had already lost his other grandfather. Best to make memories now, just in case.
Yellowstone is a two day drive from Bend. Driving eight hundred miles across the high desert of Oregon and southern Idaho with a five year old in the back seat was a challenge. I removed the headrest from the front passenger seat so that Arlie could have an unrestricted view. Also, I set up my computer with headphones on the truck console and powered it with a little inverter so that he could watch Scooby-Doo. We had a few dozen episodes. What a life saver.
What Arlie didn’t know was ahead was the electronic ban in Yellowstone imposed by Papa. At the end of the first day of our trip, we pulled into a motel near Mountain Home, Idaho. The temperature broke a hundred degrees Fahrenheit. The clerk gave me the price for the night which was twice what I could afford. I told her we had just stopped because they had a pool. She looked down into Arlie’s angelic face and said, “If you go next door, you can get a double 1 for cheap. Then bring him back here, and I’ll give you a guest pass for the pool.” Arlie swam for three hours. Later that night he had trouble falling asleep because he was worried that the sprinkler system in the room might go off. When I fell asleep, he was still staring wide-eyed at the ceiling shower heads above his bed.
***
One of the few advantages to getting older is that, at age sixty-two, we can buy a ten dollar, permanent Senior Pass which gets us into any national park and gives us free parking and half price camping there and in all national forests. I flashed my pass at the west entrance to Yellowstone and in we went.
The road follows the Madison River. We had turned north toward the Norris Geyser Basin when Arlie, with binoculars hanging around his neck, asked, “Are we in Yellowstone?”
“Of course we are,” I said.
“Where are all the animals?”
I had forgotten about the films we had watched and the books we had read in preparation for the trip. They lead him to believe that animals are everywhere and always visible. I explained to him that because it was so hot, all of the animals were in the forest resting in the shade. Hopefully, they would come out near sundown when things cooled off.
“Remember, I said the time was called the crepuscular time of day, a word you’ll be able to pronounce when you’re ten.”
He repeated the word perfectly, and I acted shocked that he could already say it. We play that game a lot.
August is a difficult month in the park to see wildlife, but it was the only time we had. I had a slight panic. We hadn’t seen an elk, a bison, a blacktail deer or even a ground squirrel. Hopefully the elk hadn’t gone up to the high country and taken the wolves with them. But the landscape was still green. So I had a little hope. Arlie contented himself with the dramatic landscape. He loved Gibbon Falls, our first stop. Cool mist rushed up the canyon walls pushed by the thunder of falling water. Also, there was a low rock wall he could climb on. What I didn’t tell Arlie was that I was feeling nauseous and a little dizzy. Altitude can mess with you. I was sure it would pass as long as I kept hydrated.
A good friend of mine, Kathie, had recently bought a log cabin near Silver Gate close to the NE entrance of the park. So that I wouldn’t have to haul my camper on this short trip, she gave us her cabin for the week. We had to drive straight through the park to meet up with her and get a key.
We passed Canyon and drove over Dunraven Pass, so dramatic. Arlie held out his arms and pretended he was flying over the distant Yellowstone Grand Canyon. We slipped past Tower Falls and Roosevelt Lodge. Every place had memories for me, but I tried not to overwhelm Arlie with my stories in order to make room for the creation of his own. We turned east toward Lamar Valley. I slowed down on the high bridge that crosses the Yellowstone River. Arlie could see the rushing green water turn white as it crashed over boulders far below. He could hear the river’s voice, a rush of wind. Then he scrunched up his nose and said, “Papa, did you toot?”
I explained that the water contained sulphur which smells like poop and comes from geysers, hot springs and mud pots further upstream. Arlie loves volcanoes so he was excited to hear about all the hot lava under the park. I have spent two to four months of each of the past fifteen years in the Lamar Valley of Yellowstone as a wolf watcher. I have followed packs through the many years of their existence. I have known individual wolves through their whole lives. Wild wolves have walked within feet of me, dispelling all the myths that have so cruelly haunted them. With the help of friends, I created a YouTube video essay The Delisting of Wolf 253M. (Collared wolves have numbers for names.) Add to that the fact that since retiring from teaching creative writing in high schools back in New York State, I have become a writer.
At Pebble Creek Campground, I wrote two YA wolf novels, one in a tent, one in a camper. Even now I am working on the final book in a series for young readers that follows the life of a wolf pup through its first year. Much of the series was written at Pebble. The books are a way to share with young people the science of the wolf and its critical importance to wilderness. What a privilege now to share all of this with my grandson.
Arlie loved the Lamar, a broad, open valley framed by pine forests draped over high ridges and mountain slopes with the silver Lamar River snaking through it. There were the bison! There were the elk, the blacktail deer, and the pronghorn antelope! We cheered! Arlie admitted that he was most nervous about bison because his father had played angry bison with him and chased him around the house. Watching the huge beasts graze, calmed his fears.
Kathie was in the Hitching Post pullout east of the confluence of Soda Butte Creek and the Lamar River. This large lot is where many back country outfitters begin their trail rides. When we arrived, there was a buzz in the air. Laurie and Dan, good friends of mine, introduced themselves to Arlie and told us that a wolf had been spotted just up the road at Round Prairie. Kathie gave me the cabin key and jumped into her car to follow the line of vehicles heading east.
There were a dozen scopes set up in the tiny pullout when we arrived. Kathie leaned in the window and told Arlie, still in his booster seat in the back, that the wolf could not be found. Arlie pointed out the windshield across several hundred yards of grass and sage flats to the first line of trees of the forest. “How about that one walking by the tree trunks?” he said. Kathie put her binoculars on the distant forest. There was the illusive black. She turned to Arlie. “You are amazing!” Arlie beamed. She and I had forgotten how quickly kids can spot wildlife with their young eyes. I remembered being next to Kathie once when, after hours of searching a hillside, she located a wolf. The lady next to us quoted Pasteur, “Chance favors the prepared mind.” Today chance was favoring Arlie.
Moments later, standing in a line of wolf watchers, a man asked Arlie if he could find the grizzly that was thought to be nearby. Arlie pointed at the thick willows on the far side of Soda Butte Creek. “There’s something brown in there,” he said. Of course, it was the bear. Everyone was patting Arlie on the head. I was beaming! Arlie’s heart was racing. I knew he was hooked on nature. I wish every kid in America could have been in that pullout with us to experience real reality, nature, and be able to leave for a moment the virtual world so many of them inhabit. How do you explain to a child about the strength one gets and the calm one feels from nature? How nature can be the source of creative thinking? About nature’s ability to cleanse the mind? The answer is to give them time in a piece of woods. I think it is the obligation of every grandparent, parent, aunt or uncle to give that gift to children. Our trip was already a success, and we hadn’t even gotten to the cabin yet.
Kathie’s cabin, which is above seven thousand feet, was perfect. I spent early mornings with coffee next to the gas woodstove watching the valley fill with light. It gave me some alone time, before Arlie got up, to gather my thoughts and even make a few notes for my next chapter book. I hadn’t been able to focus enough to write since the spring, and it would be late December before the words began to flow freely. When Arlie awoke, he had room to play with his matchbox cars and draw and color at the table. Before the week was out, he wrote a story and illustrated it to give to Kathie as a thank you gift. From the deck we could see billions of stars at night and the steep, dramatic mountains by day. The first morning in the park we stopped at Barronette Peak to look for mountain goats.
The peak is over 10,400 feet high with three thousand feet of cliff face where goats forage for food. My scope has a 20 by 60 zoom with an 80 mm front lens which brings in lots of light. We found a half dozen goats including kids which looked like pieces of snow among the rock. Adjacent to the pullout was a large meadow. Before I knew it, Arlie had slipped away from me and was twirling in circles in the middle of the meadow singing some made up song. When I got to him, his face was alive and smiling. He said, “Papa, this field is so flowerful!” I looked around. It was full of wildflowers, unusual for August. For a moment we inhaled the perfumed air. It must be the altitude, seven thousand feet, that causes asters, yampah and wild onion to be the last to bloom and the first to catch the snow.
Unfortunately, I had to scold him a little about straying away from me. We sat down among the flowers and talked about the carnivores of Yellowstone. I began with wolves. We don’t have to worry about them. They avoid humans. However, Lesson #1: We are animals. Animals are made of meat. Bears and mountain lions eat meat. When we hike in Yellowstone, we are on the menu! (His eyes widened.) Never leave Papa! I showed him my bear spray. We talked about having a 360 degree awareness of our surroundings when in a wild place like Yellowstone. Bear attacks are rare, I told him, but they can happen if you don’t stay close to Papa. Arlie looked me straight in the eyes and said, “We’re animals?”
As a wolf watcher, it would not be uncommon for me to stand for hours in one place waiting for a Lamar Canyon pack wolf, or a member of the Blacktail Plateau pack, or for one of the Agates to show up. Or maybe a Mollie. I had to remind myself that this was mostly Arlie’s trip. We had to move to his rhythms. I was just a guide. After an hour of looking, listening and being still in the Lamar Valley, we headed for a hike at Trout Lake.
The first quarter mile of the trail is steep. Arlie wore shorts, a teeshirt, his Junior Ranger vest with sheriff’s badge, a camel pack with compass, light, and whistle attached with carabiners. In his straw Junior Ranger hat, he looked like a three foot tall mounty. His pockets were full of granola bars and cheese sticks. Before we got to the lake, I showed Arlie my favorite tree. He ran his hand over the thick, dark bark of the ancient Douglas Fir which towered above us.
“How old?” he asked.
“Hundreds of years; it was probably a hundred years old when this park was made a park over a hundred years ago.”
“I can count to a hundred.” He turned up the trail counting aloud on his fingers.
The trail levels out as it wraps around this pristine mountain lake with its backdrop of basalt cliffs to the north. Had we been able to be here in June, Arlie could have seen the cutthroat trout spawning up the inlet, so astonishing. It’s an event that attracts osprey, eagles, river otters, and a fishing coyote. There are large rainbow trout in the lake, as well. The worry is that these non-native fish might mate with the native trout creating a hybrid cutbow trout. While there is a limit, fisherman may keep the rainbows they catch.
Following Arlie along a trail is like following a bear. There isn’t a rock that isn’t overturned. He’s looking for worms, centipedes, spiders, ant colonies, beetles, and snakes. The garter snake he did find wasn’t under a rock; it just slithered across the trail in front of him. He was delighted and did a little snake dance. As we continued circling the lake, we could see trout cruising in the cool, dark water.
Along the trail were Everett’s thistles. I told Arlie the story of how it got its name from Everett who, in the late 1800s, got lost in Yellowstone for many months, but was able to survive by eating thistle roots. Later I heard Arlie repeat the story to a tourist. Pointing at a thistle he said, “This prickly plant is named after Everett, a friend of Papa’s who got lost in Yellowstone and nearly died. He was skinny as a squirrel and ate thistle roots to survive, but it made him so he couldn’t poop until he ate bear grease! That loosened him up good.”
As we continued down the trail, I began to feel dizzy. We sat on a log for a long while and watched a few goldeneyes paddle out into the lake where a breath of wind wrinkled the surface. I explained to him that I had been experiencing some nausea and dizziness. If it persists, I told him, we might have to go home. His eyes teared up.
“But you said I could earn my Junior Ranger badge, Papa,” he whispered.
“That’s true,” I said. “Just in case we have to head home, let’s go get started on that badge right now.”
He cheered up, and off we went to the ranger station near Roosevelt lodge. The nice girl behind the counter spent twenty minutes warning new backcountry permittees about the dangers of camping in bear country. The phone rang. There had been a wolf incident, and the family involved was on their way to meet with a law enforcement officer at the station. Finally Arlie got the ten page newspaper filled with activities for him to complete to earn his badge. Outside, a lady law enforcement officer was listening to the family of five tell about their wolf encounter. I was curious, but Arlie was already focused on earning his badge. Next to my truck, he and I perused the activities. I didn’t read to him the part that said if you were five, you only needed to do four of the ten activities.
As it happened, John, a ranger friend of mine who was in charge of many bear jams, arrived. He suggested that the wolf incident family talk to me. The mother said that near Slough Creek a wolf had walked up the trail toward them and had gotten quite close before it veered off. By now, the officer and the backcountry ranger were listening to what I had to say. The family wondered if they were in danger. I went on for half an hour about individual animals having different flight distances, about how lucky they were to have such a dramatic story to tell the rest of their lives, about my own close encounters with wolves (with the precaution that, when possible, a watcher should get in a vehicle to avoid habituating a wolf or any animal), and that when I visit schools, I tell students that I would rather meet a wolf in the woods than a human because you know that a wolf will do you no harm. The daughter had moved over by Arlie and kept him occupied during my impromptu talk. I finished by telling them that the wolf’s presence in the wild has an important, positive effect on trout, streams, willows, cottonwoods, aspen, eagles, ravens, bears, coyotes, foxes, pronghorn, moose and even elk with which they have coexisted for hundreds of thousands of years. I ended the talk with the fact that about a dozen wolves in the park had been killed by elk. Little did I know that within a few months, the mother, a teacher in Bismark, North Dakota, would have her students reading my stories.
“Lets go, Papa!” Arlie cried. “We have stuff to do!”
And stuff we did. We visited Old Faithful, hot springs, mud pots, canyons and waterfalls. We spotted coyotes, blacktail deer, bison, sandhill cranes, bighorn sheep, eagles and osprey. Arlie printed the animals’ names on a map to show where he had seen each one. He drew pictures of a geyser erupting. He drew a picture of himself as his favorite animal. His pages were filled with lists of plants, reptiles and small mammals. Arlie’s imagination was on fire! In his mind a ranger was equal to Superman, Batman or Ironman. He was about to become one of them, a superhero who would protect the animals in the park and bring bad guys to justice!
One morning, driving through Lamar Valley, we came upon a tow truck trying to hook up to a dead bison not far off the road. A ranger explained to Arlie that the bison had been gored to death by another bison in a fight over a female bison. It was still mating season. The two thousand pound animal with its legs up in the air had to be removed because it would be dangerous for predators to feed on a carcass so close to the road. We had already been in several bison jams unable to move forward because of the hundred animals in the road bellowing, head butting and mounting each other. In one jam I pointed out a bison that had his tail straight up in the air and explained to Arlie that the raised tail meant he was going to charge or discharge. Discharge means poop, I said. The bison discharged. The point is that Arlie had an understanding of and a respect for the primitive power of these magnificent beasts. I could tell he was moved deeply by the death of this animal. He looked at me with wet eyes and said, “I think he was just trying to defend his habitory.” I agreed.
By late Tuesday, our fourth day in the park, my dizzy spells and nausea disappeared. I discovered later in the reams of paper from doctors that make up the manual on how to understand and cope with cancer that those symptoms are common after radiation treatments cease. The radiation burn and the ugly red bump growing on my leg was something Arlie asked to see over the summer. His parents agreed that if we kept it hidden from him, his imagination would conjure up something far worse. He asked to see it often and would watch as I put ointment on it each day. His curiosity continued even after the bump was gone. He wanted to see the three and a half by four and a half inch incision as well as the curious red rectangles higher on the leg where skin was removed for grafting onto the incision.
Most days now he would ask, “How’s your bump doing, Papa?” When we would read, or color, or sit on a rock in the woods, he’d say, “Is this your good leg, Papa? May I sit there?”
Tuesday night we were back wolf watching at Hitching Post. Arlie found another garter snake on a rock. He showed the snake to Bob, a filmmaker who has made exquisite wolf films for Nature and National Geographic. Bob and Arlie studied the snake carefully. I photographed the snake. I realized then that most of my trip photos were of Arlie seeing things and not the things he was seeing. Also, I try to take a minimum number of pictures in order to experience nature and my grandson more deeply. A good story is worth a thousand photos I always say. Besides, wolves and bears are usually out of range of my camera, but not my pen.
We didn’t see any wolves that night, but a large grizzly made his way slowly up Soda Butte Creek. Arlie stood on the ladder and, using the scope, followed the bear for three quarters of an hour. He even called some kids over to look through the scope and taught them how to use it. When the bear came into focus for them, their startled responses made Arlie look at me and smile. ‘This is why you keep coming here, Papa,’ he was thinking.
Wednesday morning we finished the last of the Junior Ranger activities and decided to drive over to Canyon to the new visitor center where Arlie could see the displays, turn in his activity papers and take the oath. On our way we stopped to visit Dan and Cindy at their log cabin and photo gallery in Silver Gate. Dan had done the cover photos for both of my novels and my short story collection. Visiting him is like talking with John Muir. Dan is a naturalist first, a photographer second. He is full of amazing stories, something both Arlie and I are partial to. While he photographs wolves, bears, mountain lions and other charismatic megafauna, his real passions lie with pine martens and great gray owls, or any owl for that matter. He lectures, teaches, guides and photographs, but it’s Cindy who keeps him organized and the business moving forward. Arlie was star struck. The stories, the photos in the gallery, the woodsmoke and the log cabin made him swoon. We even got a chance, on a different day, to attend one of Dan’s owl talks at the historic Range Rider Hotel in Silver Gate.
Reluctantly, we moved on. The road from Tower Falls to Dunraven Pass follows Antelope Creek. We pulled over to walk in the fields and look for whatever might be moving. There are beautiful vistas across the creek where the Agate pack traditionally dens in April, over the Yellowstone River above which the osprey soar, along the south slope of Specimen Ridge where Wolf 42F met her end back in’04, and up to the ten thousand foot top of Mount Washburn where so often I have hiked with friends. The previous fall, this whole area burned. I saw the valley shrouded in smoke in October. Now much of it was once again green.
Our wilderness reverie was interrupted when my phone rang. I had forgotten that there was cell service there. Also I had forgotten that I had agreed to meet the girl who was on the phone. She had read my novels a few years ago and was now in college in Texas. She was here with her parents and just wanted to talk about being a writer. When they arrived, she and I talked shop while Arlie gave her parents a tour of the hillside. Good people. The girl had that unmistakable glow on her face of someone who knows her own dream. All she wanted from me was the map that shows the way. I think she already had the map.
“Let’s go, Papa!” cried Arlie. “We have to get the badge!”
The first thing the ranger at the visitor center noticed about Arlie’s activity packet was that he had completed nine of the ten activities rather than just the four required for little kids. She went over every page asking him detailed questions about each activity.
Then she said, “Raise your right hand and repeat after me:
As a Junior Ranger, I promise
to learn all I can
about Yellowstone
and to teach others
to love and respect
its beauty, its plants, and its animals.
Of course, my eyes teared up. The same was true for the dozen tourists who had gathered near the information desk. Arlie’s voice was steady through the whole ceremony; he knew this was an important moment. After the pledge, the ranger leaned over and pinned the badge on Arlie’s vest.
She said, “Arlie Connolly, you are now the newest Junior Ranger in Yellowstone National Park.” And she saluted. Everyone applauded. Arlie beamed. I cried.
When
three month old Alphie, a wolf pup of the Lamar Pack, woke up from a
long nap, he discovered that he was alone. His pack had moved to their
high country rendezvous at Opal Creek accidentally leaving him behind to
face the wild valley on his own. He was lost and frightened. His tiny
howls attracted a grizzly and a mountain lion.
After facing many dangers during long days and longer nights, Alphie
is rescued by an old wolf returning to the pack. Grandfather becomes
Alphie’s protector and teacher. Their meeting marks the beginning of a
long friendship that weaves its way through all of the exciting
adventures that Alphie experiences during his first year as a
Yellowstone wolf pup.
Alphie, a Yellowstone wolf pup is a verbal map of the northern range
of Yellowstone National Park. Beautifully rendered sketches fill in the
details. The story introduces young readers to this special wilderness
and wild places in general. Wandering the Lamar Valley, with book in
hand, a reader should be able to locate Druid Peak, the Ledge Trail, the
rendezvous site, Jasper Bench, Chalcedony Creek, as well as other
landmakers in Alphie’s Territory.
Reeling from his wife's unsolved murder, Malcolm Cutter is just going through the motions as a chauffeur and bodyguard for Hollywood's rich and famous. Then a pair of Guatemalan tough guys offer him a job. It's an open question whether they're patriotic revolutionaries or vicious terrorists. Either way, Cutter doesn't much care until he gets a bomb through his window, a gangland beating on the streets of L.A., and three bullets in the chest. Now there's another murder on Cutter's Mind. His own.
Praise for Athol Dickson's novels:
"Atmospheric, well-paced and powerfully imagined . . . a highly entertaining nail-biter." (Publishers Weekly)
". . . elegant prose . . . very well written." (The New York Review of Books )
Excerpt from January Justice
ONE OF THE STRANGEST THINGS ABOUT THE CITY was the sudden way it disappeared around the edges. One minute you were down on Sunset Boulevard surrounded by glass and concrete, and the next thing you knew you were up on Mulholland Drive, alone in the rough country. From a high window or a rooftop almost anywhere in Los Angeles you could see the mountains, and there was always something ravenous up there looking down.
I was up among the hungry creatures, standing at the edge of a cliff, with Hollywood and Santa Monica far below me in the distance. One step forward and I would be in midair. I was looking down and wondering if Haley had considered how suddenly you could go from city to wilderness. Then I wondered if it was a distinction without a difference, if the city might be the wilderness and the wilderness the city, and maybe Los Angeles’s edges seemed to disappear so suddenly because there really was no separation between sidewalks and mountain paths, buildings and boulders. Up in the mountains or down in the city, either way the carnivores were in control.
I imagined Haley, out of her mind, running full speed off the cliff. I wondered what it had been like, that final second or two before she hit. Had she realized what was happening? Did she recognize the city lights below for what they were, or did she really think she was flying toward the stars? And did she think of me?
Stepping closer to the edge, I slid the toes of my shoes into the air. I looked down two hundred feet, toward the spot where she had broken on the rocks. I stood one inch from eternity and tried to imagine life without her. I could not summon up a single reason why I shouldn’t take that final step, except for one. I thought about the kind of animal who would drive someone to do what my wife had done. Predators like that were everywhere. I should know. I had trained for half my life to be one of them. I was hungry, looking down on the city. If I was going to live, the hunger would have to be enough, for now. But I would sink my teeth into him, sooner or later. I would do that for Haley, and for myself, and then maybe it would be my turn to see if I could fly.
I stepped back from the edge.
About the author:
A master of profound suspense.
Athol Dickson's mystery, suspense, and literary novels have won three Christy Awards and an Audie Award. Suspense fans who enjoyed Athol's They Shall See God will love his latest novel, January Justice, the first installment in a new mystery series called The Malcolm Cutter Memoirs. The second and third novels in the series, Free Fall in February, and A March Murder, are coming in 2013.
Critics have favorably compared Athol's work to such diverse authors as Octavia Butler (Publisher's Weekly), Hermann Hesse (The New York Journal of Books), and Flannery O'Connor (The New York Times). Athol lives with his wife in southern California.
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Prolithic author Karolyn James is here to talk about her novel, All Access (Brothers of Rock #1), published on March 1, by Hundred to Home Publishing.
Interview with Karolyn
Welcome, Karolyn. What do you like best about writing?
My favorite part of writing is thinking of characters and stories, then letting them come together in my mind. It sounds strange but that’s seriously how it works for me. I think of people and I think of what kind of mess they can get into...then I sit back and make them get out of it! How did you come up with the title of your book?
Well, to start with the series...Brothers of Rock: It’s about a band. They’re brothers through music, through the connections they make with fans with that music, and in concert. I wanted a titled that was catchy but had meaning.
Do you outline, write by the seat of your pants, or let your characters tell you what to write?
Oh, I’m an outliner! I have to be. The story usually comes to me so fast, I have to write, type, whatever it takes. I treated myself to an iPad over the holidays and use an index card app to keep track of notes. I need to have a detailed outline before I write...but it’s never set in stone.
Sophie’s choice: Do you have a favorite of your characters?
I knew this question would come up! I’m going through the entire band of Chasing Cross in my Brothers of Rock series. And I already ‘know’ each member long before writing the books...but I really like Johnnie. He’s tall, built, and beautiful. His heart is huge, and without him, the band couldn’t function. THEN AGAIN...I also have a special spot in my heart for his younger brother, Danny and the always-in-pain drummer, Rick.
When you start a new book, do you know what the entire cast will be?
For the Brothers of Rock books, I have to know what’s going on. The series is connected even though you could read each book as a stand alone. The band is in each book and elements will carry through book to book. Which character did you most enjoy writing?
As of now, it’s the female lead in the second book in the Brothers of Rock series (Broken Sound). Anna is such a sweetheart. She’s left in debt from student loans and credit cards (the latter thanks to an ex boyfriend), and she fights everyday to survive. She’s a teacher and works part-time as a waitress. She’s as regular as they come, but her fairytale dream, after meeting guitarist, Davey, is just the beginning...Something about her being innocent, smart, and yet strong just made her appeal to me.
Tell us about your favorite scene in the book.
In All Access, Johnnie wakes up and catches Jess singing in the shower. He sneaks into the bathroom, but instead of perhaps enjoying the moment of a naked woman in his shower, he tape records her singing. He’s so enamored by her voice that he can’t help himself. I loved writing it because it showed Jess opening up (finally), and it showed just how important music was to Johnnie.
How do you handle criticism of your work?
I read it and I appreciate it. I respect everyone and their opinions, and my gosh, without readers, I wouldn’t have a job! Now, I certainly can’t please everyone, but I do my best to see if there’s something suggested over and over...something maybe I can work on. I try not to let it get to me personally, but we’re human as writers, so yes, sometimes it stings. But I always handle it professionally and remember that someone took their time and their hard earned money to buy my book. They have every right to voice an opinion.
Do you have a routine for writing? Do you work better at night, in the afternoon, or in the morning?
I LOVE writing early in he morning. I’m using up at 5am and going, well before my house is awake and crazy. My family works on a tight schedule, and since this is my full-time job, we have to treat it that way.
Do you ever get writer’s block? What do you do when it happens?
I work on another project when I get stuck. Sometimes you just have to remove yourself and let your mind work it out. I’ll move to another book or just mess around with notes and ideas. I try to keep my mind off whatever caused the writer’s block and let it work itself out. What are you working on now?
Right now, I’m looking at the working outline for Brothers of Rock book three! It’s titled A Bitter Farewell and follows Johnnie’s younger brother (and guitarist), Danny, as he must face some tragic news. Since he’s Johnnie’s younger brother, he’s always been somewhat sheltered. Now he has to stand up and face things on his own.
Besides that, I actually have another romance series in the works. It’s a series about second chances. None of the books are connected but have the same underlying theme...people going back to move forward.
And of course, for all my steamy readers out there, I have some erotic romance projects in the works. I’m continuing my Rock Her Curvesseries and have a concept for a curvy photographer series too. I never stop writing!
About the author:
Karolyn James is the pen name for award winning author Karolyn Patterson. She’s been published over 100 times, reached bestseller lists on Amazon, and writes in both romance and erotic romance. Her two newest series are the romance hit, Brothers of Rock, and the erotic romance series, Rock Her Curves.
Kathy Lynn Harris is stopping by on her CLP blog tour to share an excerpt from her novel, A Good Kind of Knowing. Enjoy the read!
About the book:
Sera Taylor's store is the one place in Lakeville, Texas, where individuals from all walks of life share a universal love for music and a respect for the gypsy-like woman behind the antique glass counter. Readers get a taste of the unorthodox connection between Sera and Mack, a young local cowboy and musician, and Sera’s previously untested devotion to her husband Bill. They learn of her relationship with Ruby D., the vibrant but misguided mother of five; with Louie, the shy high school band director; with Beverly, the religious, upper-class socialite; with Antonio, a local bar owner striving to make a life for himself; with Tommy Lee, a rich and directionless gigolo; and with Wes, the only out-of-the closet gay man for miles. As Sera battles a serious illness, the characters must overcome long-held stereotypes to save Sera’s store, and in the end, large parts of themselves.
What readers are saying:
“Engaging, emotionally accurate, visual and funny."
“You pulled me right in.”
“I feel like I’m right there—I can feel the Texas heat and see the small town and the people who populate it."
“The characters are diverse and interesting, and each has a unique personality that adds to the entire canvas of the story.”
“I know these people. What’s more, I like them, even despite their faults.”
“My
head is full of your story. It took me only two and a half days to read
the book cover to cover, which means I was doing it every spare
minute.”
“The pace is comfortable, the characters rich and
colorful. The events are anything but predictable; I was always
wondering what’s going to happen next.”
Excerpt from A Good Kind of Knowing
Mack made his way over to where the horses were grazing in the south pasture. To the west, a few teasing clouds held the sunset and rolled it around like a ball of clay. Above him, more clouds were building, growing in number like kids on a playground gathering to watch a fight. His brother’s new colt watched Mack from a distance, and Mack could hear him snorting, anxious for something. A black crow screeched nearby.
It was this time of year that Mack most missed the mountains, how they seemed to rise up from the Montana flatlands like afterthoughts. The same had been true for the large grove of aspens behind the barn, their trunks thin and looking like chipped white paint. He always envied the aspens in a way. True, they’d lose their leaves, but they’d always get them back and be whole again.
Mack knew there were stories in him, could feel them nesting inside, sometimes moving around like blood cells, or getting caught in the back of his throat. Sometimes the stories sank into his arms and legs, so heavy he could hardly move. And sometimes they rested right behind his eyes and stayed there as he fell asleep.
In his songs, Mack felt like he was trying to reclaim some layer of memory that perhaps wasn’t even his own. He found himself listening for the flat notes in people’s voices as they talked, learning that in the undertones was where the truth hid.
His mother had bought him his first guitar when he was ten years old and sent away for the Roy Clark guitar lessons book. From there, Mack taught himself. He had a natural ear for it. When he was old enough to sneak in without too much of a hassle, he’d drive up to Bozeman to visit the bars. His favorite joint was called the Mint, a place where men gathered during the afternoon to talk of flyfishing the Yellowstone. At night, the place turned rowdy and boisterous, and beer flowed like water. It was in places like that, that Mack listened and watched the hands of musicians. Then he’d head home at two in the morning and recreate what he’d heard.
About the author:
Kathy Lynn Harris is the author of two novels: Blue Straggler, a former
Amazon #1 bestseller in three categories, and the award-winning A Good Kind of Knowing. In addition, Kathy has written magazine and newspaper
articles, an online column on mountain living, short fiction, essays, and
really bad poetry. Her work has also appeared in numerous published
anthologies. In April 2013, Kathy will release her third children’s
book, Higgenbloom and the Dancing Grandmas. Kathy grew up in a South
Texas ranching family, but made the move from Texas to the Colorado
Rockies in 2001 to focus on her writing and soak up All Things Mountain.
Kathy’s blog, You Can Take the Girl Out of Texas, But …, can be found
on her website. She lives west of Denver in a
haunted (she’s sure of it!) 1920s cabin with her husband, son, and two
fairly untrainable golden retriever mixes.
I love doing character interviews, and I'm happy to have Jinx Delaney here today to talk about her new mystery novel, Murder is Ugly, by Price McNaughton. The book was released on April 9 by Talebearers Publishing.
About the book:
When Jinx Delaney accepted her friend Brynn Brookefield's invitation
to spend the summer with Brynn and her family, she expected a relaxed,
fun, horse-filled getaway that would hopefully help her find direction
and get her life back on track. However, upon her arrival at the
Brookefield’s exclusive community, she begins to suspect that not
everything is as perfect as the members of the wealthy, picturesque
neighborhood would like her to believe. Jinx finds herself embroiled in a
web of suspense and deceit as a series of grisly crimes sweeps through
the community, revealing dark secrets and tearing apart the residents’
seemingly perfect lives. As neighbor turns against neighbor, Jinx begins
to realize that when it comes to high society, murder really is ugly.
Set
against a backdrop of a historic, Old South community and a high class
horse barn, McNaughton weaves a riveting tale of murder and suspense,
filled to the brim with twists and turns that will keep you guessing
until the end, while skillfully painting the ironic tale of a community
whose beauty lies only skin deep.
About the character:
Jinx Delaney is a recent college graduate who is looking for her purpose in life. She loves her horse, Ranger, and dreams of competing with him professionally, but she’s not sure what direction to go in. When she visits her sorority sister, Brynn Brookefield, for the summer, she finds herself swept up in mystery. The historic homes in the closed community her friend calls home are filled with secrets and gossip. Jinx finds that her summer may be more than she bargained for when one of the neighbors turns up dead.
Character Interview with Jinx Delaney
How did you first meet Price?
Well, Price had me in the back of her mind for quite some time. A mystery presented itself to her and then I rumbled up in my old blue and white truck, ready to solve it. Want to dish about her?
She’s nice, but a tad forgetful. She changed my name several times, and I still have trouble going by the new one, though it does have special meaning.
Did you ever think that your life would end up being in a book?
Not at all! I find that my writer and I are very alike, so I thought I would end up more like her. Definitely not involved in mysterious deaths and a secret community.
Tell us about your favorite scene in the book.
I think the night of the party was pretty special to me. I had never seen anything like it so it made a big impression. But that walk home in the rain...Brrr!
Did you have a hard time convincing your author to write any particular scenes for you?
No, she was willing to put me in pretty much every scene. I’m a little nosy, so it was easy to squeeze myself into some tight situations. In the future though, I want more time with Ranger and a stronger focus on our upcoming competitions. She’s assured me that it shouldn’t be a problem. What do you like to do when you are not being actively read somewhere?
I love riding! I can’t wait to start hauling Ranger to some local shows, but I’ve got my eyes on the big time. Maybe you’ll see the two of us in lights someday.
If you could rewrite anything in your book, what would it be?
It was hard on me to lose my newfound friends. I’d like to write them back to existence, but Price has told me that mysteries don’t work that way.
She's right. Tell the truth. What do you think of your fellow characters?
To be perfectly honest, I don’t care for many of them. In Murder is Ugly, I really only know one person, my sorority sister, Brynn. I find this closed community and some of the people who live in it to be a bit creepy.
Do have any secret aspirations that your author doesn’t know about?
I’d love to try some trick riding.
If you had a free day with no responsibilities and your only mission was to enjoy yourself, what would you do?
Exactly what I’ve been doing this summer. Riding in the morning and swimming in the afternoon.
What impression do you make on people when they first meet you? How about after they've known you for a while?
I think they think of me as sweet and innocent, but after they’ve known me for a while they find that I’m much more clever than they thought.
Ah, one of those. What's the worst thing that's happened in your life? What did you learn from it?
It’s hard to name just one thing, but knowing someone who was murdered was pretty terrible.
Tell us about your best friend.
Brynn is hilarious. She’s loyal and sweet. She’s also great with her horse, Banshee. We have so much fun together.
What are you most afraid of?
Murderers!!!
Are there a lot of murders in
your town?
No, not in my hometown, but I have found that there have been
a lot of deaths in Brynn's neighborhood. It's rather odd, now that I
think about it.
Yikes. What’s the best trait your author has given you?
I think my best trait is that I’m very down to earth.
What’s the worst?
My worst trait is definitely my overactive imagination.
What do you like best about Max? Least?
Brynn’s brother Max is fun, loyal, and handsome, but he’s also very mysterious. It’s hard to figure him out.
Honey, all men are hard to figure out. He sounds like a keeper to me. How do you feel about your life right now? What, if anything, would you like to change?
I’m in a strange place. I’m trying to figure out what I’m going to do with my future. It’s definitely time for a change. I would like to start competing with Ranger and work my way up to the pro level.
What aspect of your author’s writing style do you like best?
I like the way she describes spooky scenes.
If your story were a movie, who would play you?
My author!
Describe the town where you live.
The town where I live is very boring, so I’ll tell you a bit about the community instead. It’s closed off and everyone here seems to be rich. You would have to be to afford the upkeep the community demands. Everyone spies on their neighbors, and I’ve never seen people pass more judgement on others than here.
Describe an average day in your life.
Right now, I wake up, go jogging with Brynn, go horseback riding, hang out by the pool, and attend community functions. But after this summer, I don’t know what it will be like. Why? What happens after summer?
After this summer, I'll have to make new plans.
The Brookefields have kindly had me as a guest, but I'll have to leave
soon. I'm not sure what I'm going to do or where I'm going to go as of
right now.
Hopefully, it will come to me.
Will you encourage your author to write a sequel?
Of course! Ranger and I have a lot of stories and adventures left in us. She can’t give up on us now.
Well, good luck wherever you end up. I hope murder doesn't follow you, but if it does, and you end up in another book, come back to tell us about it, okay?
About the author:
Price McNaughton was born and raised in a small town in Tennessee. A
childhood steeped in the stories and legends of her ancestors as well as
the southern way of life led her to carry on the tradition and become a
storyteller herself. After years of traveling and working at a variety
of jobs, she has finally returned to her roots and devoted herself to
writing. A Vision of Murder is her first book. Note: A Vision of Murder is free on Kindle today, April 15!
