Friday, 2 November 2018

A Christmas Star by Judith Keim


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Romance, Women's Fiction
Date Published: November 2, 2018


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Two years ago, Noelle North’s then-fiancĂ© left her waiting at the church on Christmas—her wedding day and birthday. She knows she cannot endure another holiday season at home in Boston. At the urging of four women at the assisted-living community where she serves as health director, Noelle decides to rent Seashell Cottage on the Gulf Coast of Florida for the holidays. She meets Silas Bellingham, the cutest seven-year-old boy she’s ever seen, and his great-grandmother, Althea. Noelle discovers Althea’s caretaker has been abusing her and goes into action, ending up with the temporary care of both Althea and Silas. Becoming part of the Bellingham household has an entirely different series of challenges when it comes to Althea’s grandsons, Jake and Brett, who are having problems of their own with hotels to run and their parents missing in a plane crash. But after sparring with her, Silas’ father, Jake, realizes Noelle is just what he and his family need, and when she finds the perfect Christmas star for Silas, they both know he’s right.





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 Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE


               On the Gulf Coast of Florida, Noelle North walked along the white, sandy beach that lined the shore like the fur on her slippers back home. The sun’s heat washed over her, hugging her with its warmth on this early December morning. She unzipped her light jacket and lifted her arms to the blue sky, welcoming the day with an embrace. She had a whole six weeks of freedom from work and her dismal life back home.

Her family had wanted her to stay in Boston with them for the holidays, but Noelle knew she couldn’t endure another Christmas of everyone feeling sorry for her. Two years ago, on Christmas Day, her fiancĂ©, Alexander Cabot, had left her waiting at the church on her wedding day, while he’d taken off with another woman, his best friend’s wife. She’d wanted to die of embarrassment. Even now, thinking of that humiliation, a shudder shook her shoulders, and her stomach filled with acid.

               The one thing that had helped her keep going throughout the healing process was the conviction that she’d never fall for a glamour guy again. Besides, at thirty-two and with her grim track record with men, she was pretty sure she was destined to be single for the rest of her life. The thought didn’t bother her as much as it used to. Why should it? She had the freedom to come and go as she pleased, nobody was around to tell her what she could or couldn’t do, and evenings after a hard day of work at the New Life Assisted-Living Community were blissfully quiet.

               Noelle stopped walking and gazed out over the water. Waves rolled toward her in a steady pattern, greeting the shore with a kiss and pulling away like a shy child. Above her, seagulls wheeled in circles, their cries shrill in the stillness of the early morning. She watched as a group of sandpipers darted toward the water’s edge, dipped their beaks into the sand for whatever little morsel they could catch, and continued on their way, leaving tiny footprints behind.

               A flash of black caught her attention. She turned to see a big dog galloping toward her, yellow tennis ball in his mouth. She braced herself to greet him and then chuckled as the dog circled and ran right by her toward a small figure farther down the beach.

               She walked on, watching with interest as the dog ran into the water and came out again carrying the wet ball in his mouth. As she came closer, she saw that the person throwing the ball was a boy whom she guessed was seven or eight.

               The boy smiled at her as she approached.

“Your dog is a very good catcher,” Noelle said. “What’s his name?”

“Duke,” the boy said. The dog, hearing his name, came and sat by him.

“And what’s your name?” Noelle asked, thinking the boy with dark red hair, bright green eyes, and freckles was one of the cutest kids she’d ever seen.

“Silas. Silas Bellingham.” He studied her. “Who are you? And why aren’t you working?”

She grinned. “I’m Noelle North, and I’m not working because I’m on vacation for the next month or so.” She glanced around. “Are you here by the water on your own?”

“Naw. My great-grandmother’s over there. See?” He pointed to a woman sitting in a wheelchair on the porch of a sizeable house overlooking the beach.

               Noelle smiled and lifted a hand in greeting, but the woman didn’t wave back.

               “See you later,” the boy said and ran toward his great-grandmother.

               Noelle watched him go, thinking of all her friends’ children back home. Of the four women who had stuck together through everything since college, she was the only one who was unmarried and without children. She’d always wanted a large family, but that didn’t seem possible now. At her age and with no prospects of a husband in sight, she would be lucky to have even one baby.

               Trying to fight off depression, Noelle resumed walking. It was bad enough to have been dumped at the altar on Christmas, but that day was also her birthday. With a name like Noelle,  she’d always felt the holiday season was something extra special, almost magical, in her life. Until two years ago, that is. Now, Christmas trees, Christmas decorations, and especially Christmas music were nauseating to her.

               She walked on wishing her grandmother was alive. From an early age, she and Gran had had a special relationship. In fact, Gran was the reason why, as a graduate of Boston College’s nursing program, Noelle decided to specialize in caring for the elderly. She now headed the health program at an exclusive, assisted-living community outside of Boston. Over the past several years, some of the more active residents had become dear friends. Without them, she would not be in Florida.

               Noelle smiled at the memory of Edith Greenbaum confronting her with three of her closest elderly friends. “Now you listen here, young lady,” Edith had said with great earnestness, “it’s time for you to go somewhere, kick up your heels, and have a little fun. I was doing some research on the internet, and I’ve come up with the right place for you.”

               Shocked and pleased, Noelle had played along. “And where might that be, boss?”

               Edith and the other three women had tittered happily.

               “I’ve printed it out for you.” Edith handed her a sheet of information on the Seashell Cottage just south of Clearwater Beach in Florida.

               The minute Noelle saw the picture, she knew it was a perfect idea, the perfect place. Sitting on the edge of a broad expanse of white beach, a small, pink cottage beckoned to her.

With its painted clapboards, wide front porch, and two palm trees spreading shade nearby, it was everything she’d imagined in a beach getaway.

               “Thank you, Edith,” she’d said with meaning. “I’ll see if it is at all possible.”

               “You know we’re right, Noelle,” Edith replied kindly. “It’s time for you to move on with your life. If you don’t do it for yourself, at least do it for us. We’re stuck here. But you’re not.”

               Tears stung Noelle’s eyes as she’d embraced each one. It was the perfect time of year for her to do as they suggested.

               Thinking of those dear women, Noelle’s spirits lifted and she began to run.

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               For the second morning in a row, Noelle awoke and stretched, relieved to be away from home. She’d wanted to come to Florida in time for Thanksgiving, but her mother had put her foot down and insisted that Thanksgiving be spent with all four of her children at home. Noelle loved her parents and her three older brothers and their families. But being with them for Thanksgiving had convinced her it was right to come to Florida for the Christmas holidays. Chaos reigned when the whole family was together. Eight nieces and nephews between the ages of one and fourteen were enough to rattle anyone. Even her mother, Jen, went to bed as soon as she could after everyone else had gone, leaving Noelle to do the last-minute tidying.

               Noelle put on her fuzzy pink robe, padded into the kitchen, and turned on the coffee maker. Through the kitchen window, she saw that the clouds the weatherman had predicted were marring the blue sky and hiding the sun. Still, with ice and snow back home, the day seemed full of promise.

               She took her cup of coffee out to the front porch and gazed out at the water. A sense of peace washed over her. Edith had told her life was full of challenges, forcing people to grow and change. Thinking of the past two years, she realized she’d been stuck in a pattern of self-doubt and hurt. No man, she vowed, was worth it. Edith was right. It was time for a change.

               With a fresh resolve to enjoy each day free from the past, she went inside, changed into shorts and a T-shirt, and headed out to the beach. Though the air was cool, the sun felt warm on her face as she headed down the sand at a brisk pace.

               Along the shore, egrets were dipping their beaks into the shallow water, retrieving small, silvery fish. Noelle loved their long legs and the orange beaks that accented their white feathers. How long has it been, she wondered, since she’d taken the time to stop and study the beauty around her.

               A number of people, children included, were searching the sand at the water’s edge for seashells. Some of the more experienced searchers held net bags that sagged with the weight of their treasures. She understood how hooked some people could be on searching for the best and the most unusual shells they could find. Each shell was truly a gift from the sea.

               As she got closer to the part of the beach where she’d met Silas, she slowed. But neither Silas nor the dog named Duke was in sight. Sorry to have missed them, she walked on.

               When she reached the long, wooden pier that reached out into the water like a finger testing for coldness, she sat down on one of the benches at the end of it. For a while, she watched fishermen patiently waiting for a strike. She especially liked to watch the young boys and girls fishing. The hope on their faces was priceless.

               Yawning softly, Noelle headed back to the cottage. The sea air, sun, and freedom from home were working their magic on her body, relaxing muscles that had been tight too long.

               In the distance, she could see Silas and his dog playing on the sand. Picking up her speed, she headed toward them.

               Duke bounded toward her. His black paws pounded the sand in steady, eager beats. Wagging his tail, he stopped in front of her, tongue hanging out. Laughing, she patted him on the head. “Hello, Duke.”

               She looked up to see Silas running toward her, waving.

               Her heart filled at the sight of him. She’d hoped for a little boy just like him one day.

               “Hi,” said Silas, beaming at her. “You’re early today.”

               “Yes, it was such a beautiful morning I decided not to stay in bed. How are you?”

               He looked down, kicked at the sand, and looked up at her with a sour expression. “Mrs. Wicked is back.”

               “Mrs. Wicked?”

               He nodded. “She’s my Nana’s nurse. I don’t like her. She’s mean. She was on her break. And now she’s back.”

               “I see. Well, nursing can be difficult,” Noelle ventured to say, unsure what the real problem was in the house.

               Silas took hold of her hand. “C’mon! I’ve got to hurry back. I’m supposed to stay right in front of Nana’s house. If I don’t, Mrs. Wicked will be mad.”

               Noelle allowed herself to be hurried along.

               Standing in front of Silas’s great-grandmother’s house, Noelle studied the old woman.

Even from a small distance, she seemed bowed in spirit and fragile as she sat in her wheelchair staring out at them. Others might not recognize these signs, but from her years of experience with the elderly, Noelle was used to seeing this. On a whim, she turned to Silas.

“Let’s go say hello to your grandmother.”

“She doesn’t talk much,” Silas said with a note of sadness in his voice.

Noelle smiled. “That won’t matter. I bet she’s curious about me and might like a visitor.”

As they walked toward the front porch, a figure emerged from the house. Noelle observed the big-boned, broad-chested woman and guessed that this was the person Silas called Mrs. Wicked.

“There she is,” whispered Silas.

Pretending not to have heard, Noelle lifted a hand in greeting. “Hello!”

The woman did not return Noelle’s greeting and, instead, went inside.

Noelle climbed onto the porch, walked up to Silas’s great-grandmother, and held out a hand. “I’m Noelle North, a new friend of Silas’s. I thought I’d come to say hello to you.”

From among the wrinkles and the downcast look on her face, her blue eyes lit and a smile emerged. “I’m Althea. Althea Bellingham.” Noelle could see how beautiful the woman must have been and wondered what kind of injuries kept Althea in a wheelchair when there seemed so much life to her.

“She’s Mrs. Bellingham to you,” said the woman emerging from the house to stand behind Althea. Dressed in dark slacks and a white shirt, she scowled at Silas and turned her disapproval on Noelle.

“And you are?” Noelle asked, curious about Silas’ name for her.

“Betty Wickstrom,” the woman said with a challenging expression.

Noelle held back a chuckle. Mrs. Wicked seemed such an appropriate name. She turned to Althea. “Maybe someday Silas and I can get you out in the sun for a bit. He and Duke play a mean game of catch.”

Althea nodded and then glanced at Betty.

“She’s doing very well right where she is. Right, Althea? And now it’s time for her medicine. So say goodbye to her.”

Althea’s expression changed to one of defeat.

“Silas, time for you to come into the house,” said Betty.

“No! I don’t want to go inside. I want to stay with Noelle. She lets me play with Duke.”

Noelle smiled at both women. “I’m happy to stay with him for a while longer. Will that is okay?”

“No!” said Betty.

As Althea reached up to touch Betty’s arm, her long-sleeved shirt revealed a bruise on her forearm. “Yes.”

“What happened to your arm?” Noelle asked as calmly as she could while suspicion rolled through her in a wave of unease.

Althea glanced at Betty.

“She’s fine, just a little clumsy, that’s all,” said Betty, waving away Noelle’s concern.

“You hit Nana there,” said Silas, moving closer to Noelle. “I saw you.”

“Why, you little … You know that didn’t happen. That’s where I helped her up from another fall.”

Silas clasped Noelle’s hand and shook his head. “Adults aren’t supposed to lie.”

Noelle knelt down in front of Althea’s wheelchair and spoke softly. “Althea, you can trust me. I’m a registered nurse who helps the elderly where I live in New England. Are you being hurt?”

Althea looked at Betty, turned back to Noelle, and nodded. Then she lifted her shirt. Bruises were everywhere.

Noelle scrambled to her feet and faced Betty, her hands fisted. The burning desire to attack the awful woman was almost overwhelming. Through gritted teeth, Noelle said, “I would suggest you pack up your things and leave now, Betty, or I’m calling the authorities.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” snarled Betty.

“I would, I can, and I will,” said Noelle, flexing her fists. The abuse of the elderly wasn’t new, but each time she saw an example, it made her sick to her stomach.

Noelle turned to Silas. “You stay here with your great-grandmother. I’m going inside to make sure Mrs. Wickstrom leaves.”

Mrs. Wickstrom placed her hands on her hips and glared at Noelle. “You can’t make me leave. You didn’t hire me.”

“If you don’t leave, I’m calling the police. I mean it. I’ve handled cases like this before,” Noelle said, well aware this really wasn’t her business. But she wouldn’t, she couldn’t let the abuse continue. The sight of those bruises felt like a punch to her gut.

“Okay then, I’m not leaving until I get paid,” said Betty.

“Write down what you’re owed, and I’ll see that you get the money. That’s the best I can do under the circumstances,” said Noelle. “It’s the nicest offer you’re going to get because if it were left up to me, you wouldn’t get a dime. You’d get a jail sentence.”

“You have no proof that I did anything wrong,” countered Betty.

Noelle’s smile was cold. “Oh, but I do. I have two very credible witnesses and, if necessary, I’ll take photographs to show the authorities. Now, get your things, and I’ll escort you to your car.”

Noelle followed Betty inside and to a bedroom off the kitchen in the back of the house. She watched carefully as Betty hastily threw her things into a small suitcase. When she’d zipped her suitcase closed, she turned to Noelle.

“What are you going to do about it now?”

Noelle drew a deep breath. “I’m taking your keys to the house and escorting you to your car.”

“And then what?” sneered Betty. “Althea isn’t an easy woman to deal with. Too stubborn, too demanding for her own good.”

“We’ll see about that. Come on, let’s go.”

Noelle escorted Betty outside, wrote down the license number, and stood by as Betty threw her suitcase into the back of a small, blue sedan and climbed behind the wheel. After starting the engine, Betty gave her a middle-finger wave and took off with a roar.

Alone, Noelle stood in the driveway, breathing in and out in a calming pattern to slow her heartbeat. What in the hell had she done? She didn’t know Althea Bellingham. And now she was in charge of her until her family could find other help for her.

She went inside the house and out to the seaside porch. Silas was sitting next to the wheelchair, holding his great-grandmother’s hand. Althea was asleep in the chair. At the sweet sight of them, tears sprang to Noelle’s eyes.

“Hello,” she said softly to Silas. “Mrs. Wicked is gone. Come with me. I need your help.”

Silas followed her into the kitchen.

“Who do I need to call? Where are your parents?” Noelle asked.

Silas gave her a look that was so sad, Noelle’s heart clenched. “My dad is in New York. He’ll be back at the end of the week.”

“Do you have a phone number for him?”

Silas smiled and pointed to a printed list by the kitchen phone. “It’s the one on the top. His name is Jake.”

Noelle studied the mounted paper. Jake Bellingham’s phone number was listed at the top. She picked up the phone and dialed the number.

“The Bellingham Hotel New York. How may I help you today?” came a practiced, professional-sounding voice.

Noelle’s heart pounded with dismay. Bellingham Hotel? The family-owned hotels? “May I please speak to Jake Bellingham?”

“I’ll buzz his office for you.”

After a minute, a feminine voice came on the line. “Mr. Bellingham’s office. How may I help you?”

“Please, I need to speak to him. I’m a visiting neighbor calling from his grandmother’s house in Florida.” Noelle’s pulse sprinted at the idea of telling him what she’d done.

“Please hold, and I’ll see if he can take the call,” his secretary said.

A moment later, Noelle heard a deep voice say, “Jake Bellingham.”

Noelle swallowed hard. “Mr. Bellingham, you don’t know me, but I’m a new friend of Silas’s. My name is Noelle North, I’m a registered nurse visiting from Massachusetts, but not licensed in Florida, and I’m calling to tell you that I just escorted your grandmother’s caretaker out of the house for abusing her. I specialize in care for the elderly and recognize abuse when I see it. I did not call the police. I need to know what you want me to do next.”

“Let me get this straight. You don’t know me, my grandmother, or the woman who was taking care of her. Yet you had the balls to throw her out after, what, five or ten minutes in the house?  Is that it?”

“Yes,” said Noelle with a confidence she didn’t feel. “That’s about it. As I said, I am a registered nurse, so I’ve seen too many cases of abuse like this before. She has bruises on her arms and torso that are very telling.”

“Abuse? Really? Put Silas on the phone,” growled his father.

Noelle handed Silas the phone. “Your father wants to speak to you.”

Silas’s eyes grew round. He took the phone and listened, then he spoke in a series of staccato sentences. “Yes! I told you Mrs. Wicked was mean! Yes, I like her! Her name is Noelle and she’s here on vacation. Nana showed Noelle her bruises. That’s why.”

After a pause, Silas said, “Love you too, Daddy,” and handed the phone back to Noelle.

“I had no idea this was happening to my grandmother,” said Jake. “I have you to thank for uncovering the situation. I’ve been mostly away for the last several weeks, and Althea never mentioned any problems with Mrs. Wickstrom. Nor did I notice anything like that. I’m sorry, but I can’t make it home for another few days due to some international legal problems. Can you stay with my grandmother and Silas until I can send someone else to take over for you? In the meantime, who can I call for references on you?”

“You can speak to anyone at the New Life Assisted-Care Community outside of Boston. I handle the health program there. I’m in Florida for a vacation, and as I mentioned earlier, I’m not licensed to practice in Florida, and won’t be able to stay with your family for any length of time, and then only as a caretaker, not a nurse.”

“Until just this weekend, I promise,” said Silas’ father. “And if I can find a better service than the one I used for Mrs. Wickstrom, it could be for only a few hours. Don’t worry, I’ll pay you well.”

Noelle bristled. “You may be used to paying people to do your bidding, but it’s not necessary for me. I’ve done this because I care about others. Not to get your money.”

“Whoa! I didn’t mean … Forget it! I’ll be in touch.”

Noelle hung up the phone, still steaming from the notion that she and her work were for sale when she was just voluntarily helping to resolve a very tough situation.

“You’re going to stay with me now?” Silas asked, giving her a wide smile. “Maybe for a long time.”

“Just until your father can find a replacement,” Noelle said, not wanting to get Silas’s hopes up for something that wasn’t going to happen. She already knew she didn’t like Jake Bellingham.



About the Author

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Judith Keim was born and raised in Elmira, New York, and now makes her home in Idaho with her husband and their two dachshunds, Winston and Wally, and other members of her family.

Growing up, books were always present being read, ready to go back to the library, or about to be discovered. Information from the books was shared in general conversation, giving all of us in the family a wealth of knowledge and a lot of imagination. Perhaps that is why I was drawn to the idea of writing stories early on. I particularly love to write novels about women who face unexpected challenges and meet them with strength.

A hybrid author who both has a publisher and who self-publishes, Ms. Keim writes heart-warming stories of strong women who face challenges and find love and happiness along the way. Her books are based, in part, on many of the places she's lived or visited and on the interesting people, she's met, creating believable characters and realistic settings her many, loyal readers love.

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Saturday, 27 October 2018

The Hidden Children (The Lost Grimoire #1) by Reshma K.Barshikar

~ Cover Reveal ~
The Hidden Children (The Lost Grimoire #1)
by Reshma K.Barshikar


‘What price would you pay to be extraordinary? What would you do to speak to a butterfly? 

Shayamukthy cruises through life: shooting hoops, daydreaming and listening to her favourite books. Even moving from the US to India, to a new school, a new culture, hasn't really rattled her. But something isn't right anymore and it begins when 'New Girl' joins the school. 

She pulls Shui into a world of magic and wonderment, a world she has been hidden from all her life. What starts as a quest to look for a lost book, hurtles Shui into a world where people live in trees, talk to the dead and speak to butterflies. 

But like all power, magic comes at a steep price, and under all things wondrous lie demons waiting to crawl out. The more Shui learns, the more she doubts everything and everyone around her.   

Will she be able to master her powers, or will they devour her and everyone she loves? 



Releasing on 10th November

About the Author:
Travel writer and novelist Reshma K Barshikar is an erstwhile Investment Banker who, as she tells it, ‘fell down a rabbit hole and discovered a world outside a fluorescent cubicle.’ As a travel and features writer, she contributes to National Geographic Traveller, Harper’s Bazaar, Grazia, The Sunday Guardian, SilverKris, The Mint Lounge and The Hindu. Fade Into Red, published by Random House India was her debut novel and featured in Amazon Top 10 Bestsellers. She also holds well renowned workshops for young adults at both BDL Museum and Kala Ghoda and is keen to build a strong Young Adult reading and writing community to fill the desperate lack of young adult fiction in the Indian Market. Her new Young Adult novel, The Hidden Children, will be launching at the Vizag Junior Literary Festival. Reshma is from the ISB Class of 2003. She calls both Mumbai and the Nilgiris home. 


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Friday, 26 October 2018

Beauty and the Horseman's Head






I'm a mom who writes books in her spare time: translation--I hide in the bathroom with my laptop and lock the door while the kids destroy the house and smear peanut butter on the walls. I was born in Utah but lived in Kansas until I was 13, in Texas until I was 18, and attended college in Hawaii—studying marine biology. I'm now back in Utah--"happy valley". I'm married to a wonderful husband, James, and we are currently raising 6 rambunctious children. My interests are reading, writing (of course), martial arts, visual arts, creating Halloween props, and spending time with family.

I signed with Clean Teen Publishing in 2013. My first published book Rising, quickly hit the best-seller lists and has maintained its status on those lists since it's release in September 2013. The sequel in The Rising Series titled, Descending, was released in late March 2014. It also hit best-seller status--reaching all the way to #1 in Mythology on Amazon.





~ Amazon ~





It's 1792 and Hope is on the run. She finds shelter in a glen called Sleepy Hollow. Luck is with her as the town is unexpectedly looking for a new teacher and Hope is hired for the job. 

Unfortunately, not everything is looking up for her. Not only is the mayor out to get her fired and the local witch determined to slice her up and brew her organs into potions, but hidden under the floorboards of her quaint little cabin, she finds a man. His name is Conall.



Conall is demanding, he's ornery, and though he has undeniably handsome features, he is missing something of vital importance...

His body.







Snippet:

“Hope,” he roared. “Come . . . back . . . inside! If you even so much as think of leaving me here, when I get my body back, I will whip you from now until Sunday.”
At those words, something in her snapped. The image of Eli assaulting her, driving her into hiding filled her mind—there was no way under heaven or earth she would allow another man to intimidate her again. If she were well and good crazed, she might as well do as she wished. With nothing else to lose, she stormed over to the door and threw it open, her fear turned to righteous anger. “No one lays a hand on me. Ever!”
“Brave words for a woman speaking to someone completely helpless,” he sneered. “But I warn you, with my body, I am a warrior the likes you’ve not seen. I have never been bested in battle, and I will darn well whip any woman I put my mind to whipping!”
“Whipping a woman is never a brave act,” Hope said. “A man who strikes a woman is a coward and a snake.”
“You use my own words against me,” he said. It looked like he remembered the day they met. He probably had a lot of time to think about it over the years. “I used those words for a man who would rape a woman. Whipping a woman who deserves it is a whole other affair. Sometimes a woman needs to be taught her place.”
“Taught her place?” Hope fairly screamed. “Did you say, ‘Taught her place?’”
“I did not stutter. You know exactly what I said.”
Hope stormed over to the box, took a fistful of hair, picked him up, and stomped over to the old chamber pot. Too bad it hadn’t been used lately. “I will teach you your place.” Without care, she chucked him inside. His roar and subsequent slew of profanity reverberated off the cabin walls. Hope ignored the vile man, draped an old cloth over the pot, and proceeded to get dressed. She could still hear him bellowing as she made her way down the path toward town.








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Thursday, 25 October 2018

Die, Sweet Di


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Suspense, Romantic Suspense
Date Published: May 2018

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Publisher: Painted Hearts Publishing


They told her one truth while hiding murder.

Knowing nothing more about her father than that he wasn’t the man she called Dad all her life, Diana wouldn’t have gone to claim her inheritance if her mother hadn’t insisted. To shut her up, she intended to do nothing more than to tell the lawyer to shove it. Step-siblings she never knew she had met her at the airport and misunderstood her suppressed demeanor as grief.

Telling her how happy they were that she was there, how they wanted her to stay and share their wealth, they tried to fool and manipulate her. The mansion wasn’t theirs left to them by their mother. The business that supported them wasn’t theirs. They were hers, left to her by her father. Furious over their deception, Diana planned her revenge with the help of new ally Steven. But could he be trusted?

When Steven's lies come to the surface, Diana must decide if she should continue her plan for revenge on her own, or run for her life.


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About the Author

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Larion Wills, a multi-genre author, also writes under the name of Larriane Wills. From the present to the past in historical westerns, too far in the future with science fiction, she holds up to her tag given to her by one of her publishers of ‘two names, one author, thousands of stories’, although not all of them are in print, yet. Born in Oklahoma but raised in Arizona she feels a native to the state and has settled in the high desert country. In a quiet, rural area with a family who tolerates her writer’s single-mindedness, she presents us with a collection of unique contemporary romances, many laced with paranormal settings, all with strong characterizations and suspenseful plots, capable of dragging you into a story in a genre you thought you didn’t care for. Under her other pen of Larriane she writes science fiction and fantasy. At her website, http://www.larriane.com , you can keep abreast of releases under both pen names, keep up with new releases through various publishers.

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Second Sight (Book 1 Prescience Series)






Denise is a Southern girl who has lived in Louisiana all her life, and yes, she has a drawl. She has a wonderful husband and two incredible children, who not only endure her writing moods, but who also encourage her to indulge her writing passion. Besides writing romantic suspense, she enjoys traveling, reading, and cooking. Accounting is a skill she has learned to earn a little money to support her writing habit.
She wrote her first story when she was a teen, seventeen handwritten pages on school-ruled paper and an obvious rip-off of the last romance novel she had read. She's been writing off and on ever since, and with more than a few full-length manuscripts already completed, she has no desire to slow down.





Desperate to begin a new life, Jerilyn Bowman changes her name and goes off the grid. Sparks fly when Det. Nick Moreau confronts her about her identity and then seems to follow her wherever she goes. When a stranger dies while gripping her chin in his hand, passing to her the gift of prescience, she begins to witness awful crimes before they happen.



Jerilyn’s claim that she’s able to see the future both frustrates and fascinates Nick to the point he can’t get her out of his mind. Are Jerilyn’s claims of second sight a cover for her own crimes? Will Nick discover the truth before Jerilyn becomes the killer’s next victim?







Snippet:

New Orleans, Louisiana
June 2014

Blue streaks and long spikes protruded every direction out of the ponytail elastic on top of Jerilyn Bowman’s head. Black lips and nails added to the dark, don’t-you-dare-mess-with-me look. Jeri had adopted the carefully crafted image on the day she decided to stay in New Orleans.
The persona she projected wasn’t her. Not at all. It was a disguise. In high school, she was a brainiac. Sensible clothes. Responsible habits. Excellent grades. Jeri knew herself well enough to know her true nature was somewhere between good little girl and badass bitch.
Her parents wouldn’t understand her choices, and she wasn’t going to try to explain. Not when the secrets they had kept from her for years were the main reason she wanted to keep them out of her life. So when she dropped out of medical school to bartend, she hadn’t told them about her decision. As far as she knew, they still believed she was studying anatomy and medical ethics at Tulane Medical School.
She slid a glass across the bar toward a regular customer. “Here ya go.”
Among all the tourists who ordered nothing but Hurricanes and Sazeracs, the local guy was a bit of a challenge. He always had a new drink for her to mix. Today’s choice was a concoction he called Royal Blood. She’d mixed his drink, adding a sticky red liquid that resembled strawberry syrup from a glass tube he’d brought with him. The mess smelled horrible and looked practically toxic.
Without looking at her, he grunted, lifting his drink and letting it hover near his lips for a long moment before taking the first sip. When he lowered his glass, a line of gooey red outlined his upper lip.
“Is that the way you like it?” She didn’t expect him to respond. The weirdo rarely spoke more than a few words.
He dropped a ten on the counter. Despite his homeless appearance, he was always a good tipper. Jeri’s shift ended at six in the morning, and the weirdo was always her last customer. The man stopped for a moment to gaze out the front window. No telling at what he was staring. He stood so still Jeri thought he might have died standing up. Then, he jerked, dropped something in the trash bin near the door, and exited the bar, leaving the place empty of customers once again.
The weirdo’s empty glass went into the soapy water behind the bar, discoloring the bubbles with a tinge of pink. She grabbed a damp towel and began wiping down the counter for the last time just as the night bouncer Herb turned over the closed sign in the window.
Until recently the bar had never closed, open 24/7, but ever since a brawl on the sidewalk outside had migrated into the bar at six in the morning and someone had taken a bullet right inside the door, the owner had closed it from six a.m. until ten a.m. every day. Darwin had grumbled that he didn’t want to spend his mornings watching his business and that no one should be up that time of day making trouble. If he didn’t take care of his business, it didn’t get taken care of, so he said. Hell, it wasn’t like Darwin stuck around much after midnight. He usually missed all the late night/early morning excitement that the bouncer handled without the boss ever knowing about it.
Jeri’s bare wrist slid across a few drops of the red slimy substance she’d put into the weirdo’s drink. Her head jerked up, her gaze darting across the empty bar toward the other side of the room. For a split second, she saw a woman lying on the floor. Her glassy eyes stared straight into Jerilyn’s soul. Jeri dropped the wet towel and rubbed her fists over her eyes. When she opened them again, the woman had disappeared.
“Herb?”
The bouncer turned toward her. “Huh?”
She pointed to the spot where she’d seen the woman. “Is there someone lying on the floor over there?”
It wouldn’t be the first time someone had passed out and woke up the next morning sprawled out on the floor right where they had fallen. That was another early morning joy that Darwin usually missed out on.
Herb squinted in the direction of the darkened corner of the room. “I don’t see nobody.”
The front door popped open, pushing Herb back a few steps, and a man entered. Herb groaned. Jeri had distracted him, and he hadn’t locked up fast enough.
She nodded toward the sign on the door. “We’re closed until ten.”
When the man’s gaze met hers, Jeri’s breath completely left her. His brilliant blue eyes held her stare. It was too bad he was so hot. He smelled like a cop.
Jeri remembered those gorgeous eyes. She’d seen him once before. He’d come into the bar one night with another cop. The two of them had tried so hard to appear as if they were just two guys getting a drink together and had ordered a beer on tap while they had scanned the crowded bar. They hadn’t found whoever they were looking for and had left their drinks behind practically untouched. She would have been glad to give them a go cup. There was no sense in wasting a perfectly good mug of beer.
She forced a smile and dumped the day-old cherries and orange slices into the trashcan beneath the bar. “What can I get for you, officer?”
Herb made a noise of disgust and locked the door with an angry twist of his wrist. Since he’d done time, first in the Orleans Parish jail and then at Angola, Herb had not been a big fan of law enforcement. He stood near the door with his beefy arms crossed over his broad chest. Herb had pumped so much iron during his incarceration that no one dared mess with him, not even cops.
The cop blinked and then grinned as if he had been caught in a criminal act. Before he spoke, he pulled a stool back from the bar and took his sweet time depositing his butt opposite her. One flick of his wrist gave her a quick peek at his ID. He tucked the badge back into his pocket and shoved a picture across the still damp bar.
“Have you seen her hanging around the Quarter?”
Jeri glanced at the picture and then raised her gaze to meet the cop’s eyes. Believable lies were all about projecting confidence. “Nope.”
So her parents had figured out that she had dropped out of Tulane. It had taken them long enough. She lifted the weirdo’s glass out of the soapy water and began cleaning it, trying to keep doing her job and appearing as casual a possible, while her heart pounded at a furious pace.
The cop sighed and pointed at the photo. “Jerilyn’s parents are worried about her. I would like to tell them she isn’t dead.”
It was a strange time of day for the cop to be following up on a missing person case. Didn’t he have more serious crimes to investigate at six in the morning?
As if on cue, the high-pitched wail of sirens caught her attention. She turned her head toward the street for a second and then returned her attention to the cop. “Sorry, I can’t help you with that.”
He leaned across the bar and whispered. “What do I tell them, Jerilyn?”
Jeri drew her brows together and crinkled her nose as if he had confused her. “You think I’m that girl?” She glanced at the picture again. “Maybe I look a little like her, but that’s not me.” Not anymore. “My name is Olivia.” She had paid a guy a nice fat sum of money to become Olivia.
He pushed his stool away from the bar. When he stood, she calculated he must be at least six feet tall. She dared look straight into his blue, blue eyes. He smiled again, and she almost smiled back.
“Well, Olivia…if you ever want to pass any news along to Jerilyn’s parents, here’s my card. Give me a call anytime.”
He was gone before she could shove the card back at him. She nudged it to the end of the bar with a long, black-painted fingernail and then watched it float into the trash bin.
Give me a call anytime. She snorted with contempt.
If he weren’t a cop…if he wasn’t looking for her, she might think the man had just hit on her. But he was a detective, and cops were pros at deception. He could easily fake interest to fool her into talking to him. She knew how they were because her father was a high-ranking officer with the Nashville police. No doubt, that was why the local PD was giving her particular missing person case personalized attention.
She glanced at the name on the card as it lay face up on top of the fruit. Det. Nicholas Moreau. Just her luck the hottest guy she’d ever met was a cop. She snatched the card from the trash and slipped it into the pocket of her jeans…just in case.








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