A Moment with Nona Raines

1-Tell the readers a little about yourself.

Thanks so much for having me here today. I'm a former school librarian who enjoys all kinds of books, but especially romances. I've been writing off and on for a long time. But a couple of years ago I became determined to actually complete a manuscript.

Now I spend my days writing, reading and researching, hanging out with my pets and trying to ignore the dust bunnies that just grow bigger and bigger…

2-As an author, do you take time to read? If so, what do you like to read and who is/are your favorite author/s? 

I love to read, and think it’s so important for authors to keep doing it, even though it's hard to find the time.  Some of my favorite authors are Joey W. Hill, Lorelei James, and Cari Quinn. For less erotic romances, I love Mary Balogh and Lisa Kleypas. And though they write YA rather than romance, I also enjoy the works of Walter Dean Myers, Jacqueline Woodson and Virginia Hamilton.

3-How do you stay motivated when the Muse is uncooperative?

That's a tough one. I might take a break, read something, do a little housework (when I'm really desperate), take a walk.  Anything to re-energize the brain cells. Sometimes I try to write free-form and just let words spill out, even if they don't seem to make sense. Or I'll skip over a scene that's hard for me and work on something more appealing. Of course, you finally do have to go back to fill in the blanks, lol! Sometimes you just have to soldier on.

4-If you could go anywhere in the world on a romantic getaway, what would you do and where would you go?

There are so many possibilities, but I think it would be delightful to spend time in one of those amazing luxury Adirondack resorts. You get to enjoy the scenery of the Adirondacks while being pampered. If I had a couple thousand to spend per night, I'd be right there! 

5-What is the hardest thing for you to write?

The sex scenes! Once in a while I'll get on a roll and they'll flow smoothly, but often they're difficult because you want to get the right balance of hot and sweet. You want the reader to feel the heat, but have to remember the emotion as well. You're writing a ROMANCE, after all! Then of course, there's the little matter of making sure everyone's body parts are in the correct place and you're not having your characters do anything that's physically impossible, lol! 

6-If you could live the life of one of your characters who would you be?

I'd have to say Tania Talcott, one of the heroines of my latest release, Irresistible Impulse. She's  impulsive, gutsy and not afraid to say exactly what she thinks. In other words, all the things that I'm afraid to be! 

Let me share a little more about the story:

Ordinarily, Tania Talcott wouldn't be caught dead at a speed dating event, but she lost a stupid bet. Checking out the slim pickings, she's convinced the evening will be a total bust--until a classy, sensual, African American woman enters the room. A woman Tania met briefly once before and never forgot.

Latisha Hobbs is only attending this event to support her young cousin, who's ready to start dating again. Latisha's heart has been on ice for quite some time. But she finds herself immediately--and strongly--enticed by the friendly overtures of a vivacious redhead. Or are they more than friendly?

Fueled by an irresistible impulse, Tania wastes no time getting to know the beautiful woman. Latisha is drawn to Tania as well, but memories of an unhappy love affair make her reluctant to act. These two opposites definitely attract, but will their differences be too much to overcome?

7-The tag line on my blog is ‘Indulge Your Inner Romantic.’ What do you do to indulge?

What is life without indulging? Indulgence to me equals hot lattes, delicious chocolate and kicking back to attack the TBR pile on my Kindle or an old-skool paperback. To me, that's the lap of luxury! 

Thanks again for having me here today!

Nona Raines
Hot Contemporary Romance
Edgy ~ Emotional ~ Erotic
www.nonaraines.com

Facebook, Twitter, Blog

Ordinarily, Tania Talcott wouldn't be caught dead at a speed dating event, but the stupid bet she'd lost forced her to be there. Checking out the slim pickings, Tania's convinced the evening will be a total bust— until a classy, sensual, African American woman enters the room. A woman Tania met briefly once before and never forgot.

Latisha Hobbs is only attending this event to support her young cousin, who's ready to start dating again. Latisha's heart has been on ice for quite some time. But she finds herself immediately—and strongly—drawn to the friendly overtures of a vivacious redhead. Or are they more than friendly?

Fueled by an irresistible impulse, Tania wastes no time getting to know this beautiful woman. Latisha is attracted as well, but memories of an unhappy love affair make her reluctant to act. These two opposites definitely attract, but will their differences be too much to overcome?

Genre: Contemporary sensual romance F/F

Buy Link - http://www.wilderroses.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=182&products_id=900 

Nona Raines became hooked on romances when she first picked up "The Flame and the Flower" by Kathleen Woodiwiss (and she's not telling how long ago that was). Romances may have changed since then, but her love for a good love story has not. She's been writing off and on for years, but it was only when she joined the Central New York Romance Writers Association that she finally gained the support and confidence she needed to complete a manuscript. 

Nona lives in upstate New York with her many pets and is currently working on her next novel. A former librarian, she enjoys reading books of all genres and discussing them with others. She is thrilled to finally be able to call herself an author and looks forward to hearing from readers.

Website / Facebook

Excerpt:

As they chatted and laughed Latisha again felt that sensation vibrate through her body, that combination of nerves and sexual longing. She was light-headed with anticipation and weak with fear. 

Of course, the alcohol didn’t help. But as Tania shared some funny stories about her experiences working with the public, all Latisha could think about was leaning forward and pressing her lips to Tania’s pink mouth. 

Don’t go there. 

Tania grew blurry as Danielle’s face floated in front of her. “I’m not in love with you.” The words echoed in her memory. 

Tania’s voice brought her back to the present. “Latisha? You all right?” 

“Excuse me.” Latisha stood so abruptly she bumped the table and made the glasses jiggle. “I need to use the bathroom.” 

“Is everything okay?” Tania’s eyes were wide with concern. “These drinks are delish, but they pack a pretty good kick.” 

“I’m not drunk.” 

“I never said—” 

She had to get away. “Excuse me.” 

She brushed past a waitress with a tray of drinks and several others in her rush to the Ladies’ Room. Once there, she washed her hands and patted her cheeks with a damp paper towel, trying to collect herself. 

Hot Pursuit

Many thanks to Lynn for answering my call for guest spots on Face Book to talk a bit about my new release with Ellora’s Cave in the Blush line.  She was very gracious and let the pushy guest invite herself on over. *Looks around for coffee cake and tea*

The story is called Hot Pursuit and it truly is a chase across the globe. It’s a fun romp if I do say so myself. My heroine is more than a bit sassy and many times I debated having her save some small animal to make her more appealing to the reader. She’s a bit abrasive to start with but she’s a lawyer so she has an excuse. Her journey in this story is to find out exactly what kind of person she is and I hope the reader is as surprised as Evangeline herself was when we arrived at THE END.

No blog post would be complete without a word about the hero. In this story, he’s part German, part British and is very yummy. Think Clive Owen on a particularly well-shaven day. Our hero is an Interpol agent who is intense and dogged in his pursuit of justice. Or is it the pursuit of the lawyer that’s making him so intense? Hmmm. 

BLURB:

Blush sensuality level: This is a sensual romance (may have explicit love scenes, but not erotic in frequency or type).

Racing across the globe to help a client isn’t part of corporate lawyer Evangeline Fleet’s normal legal services, but this is no ordinary client. She’s the beloved daughter of an old family friend. In her efforts to save the girl, Evangeline gets in over her head when sexy Interpol agent Cecil Waugh enters the picture in hot pursuit of her client. He follows the lawyer on an international chase from New York City to Rio de Janeiro where they forget their differences for a moment and fall into bed together. Before the sheets can even cool Evangeline makes a daring escape, leaving behind her lover.

Relentless in his quest to find Evangeline’s client, Cecil continues the chase across Europe. But it soon becomes unclear who his main target is—Evangeline’s charge, or the spitfire of a woman herself. Only time will tell how hot this pursuit will become.

Book video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1m1Ek3-nhX4&feature=youtu.be

EXCERPT:

An Excerpt From: HOT PURSUIT Copyright © JILLIAN CHANTAL, 2012 All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc. Barbara buzzed Evangeline’s office. Van was on the floor on her ab cruncher, dressed in a pair of black leggings and a sports bra. “Hang on, I’m across the room,” she yelled in the direction of the speaker. She rose, walked to her desk and picked up the headset. “Yeah. What? It’d better be a Federal judge or something. You know it’s my workout time.” She tapped her toe, impatient to get back to her exercise. “Not a judge but an Interpol agent. On the phone. He insisted I interrupt you.” “Barb, who do you work for? Me or that guy?” “You.” “Well, then. What’re you going to tell him?” “That you can’t be interrupted?” “See, that was easy, yeah?” “Yeah, boss. Should I get his number?” “Tell him I’ll call him back in thirty minutes. What’s his name?” “Cecil Waugh.” Van doubled over in laughter and held on to her stomach. “Oh God, what would a Cecil Waugh look like? A nerd in taped-up horn-rimmed glasses with his pants belted under his armpits and a pen protector in his shirt pocket?” “You’re terrible.” Barbara snickered. “And you love me for it.” Van laughed. “Yeah, right. I’ll tell him you’ll call back.” “Thanks.” Van hung up and finished her workout. She took a quick shower in her private bathroom. She dried her hair, curling under the ends of her pageboy cut and put on a red merino-wool pantsuit for the depositions she had scheduled for later in the morning. The suit was double breasted with three large buttons on an asymmetrical bodice. She slid on her red patent-leather stiletto pumps with the pointy toes, the ones she called her Wicked Witch of Manhattan shoes. She wanted to look especially tough since the lawyer on the other side was from Miami and had a reputation as a real asshole. She thought she might need to use the pointed toes on his butt. Kick some ass, as it were. Van nodded at herself in the mirror. Yep, the red is the right choice. Makes me feel more powerful. And it doesn’t hurt that it looks good on me. She grinned over her vanity, pinned on a white topaz broach, flattened the collar of the suit jacket and walked to her desk, ready for the day’s challenges. Before she could take her seat, her phone buzzed again and Barbara said, “That Waugh guy—” Van yelled into the speaker, “What? The nerd with the pocket protector on the phone again? He sure is an impatient little nerd, isn’t he?” “Er. Not exactly, boss—” Van’s door burst open and banged backward on the jamb. A gorgeous man with dark hair hanging over his brow, dressed in khakis and a polo shirt that showed off his toned biceps, strode into her office. There was no sign of a pocket protector anywhere on the man. He said, “Cecil Waugh, Interpol.” He thrust his hand toward her as if to shake hers. Ignoring his hand, furious that he’d come into her office uninvited, gorgeous or not, she said, “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Barging in here?” He dropped his outstretched hand to his side. “You didn’t call me back like your secretary said you would. I have a witness on the lam and you know where she is. I’m not a patient man, so I came over here to get some answers. Nerd that I am.” His gaze raked over her body with a sneer and he added, “Your secretary said you were too busy to come to the phone when I rang up earlier. Was that a lie? To avoid my call so you could keep hiding your client? Is obstructing justice a hobby with you?” “You rude son of a bitch. I’m not sure you have any authority in this country and you certainly have none here in my place of business. I have no obligation whatsoever to tell you anything. I definitely have no obligation to take or return your call. I suggest you leave before I call security.” She sat in her chair and reached toward the phone. “Look, I’m sorry I barged in but there’s some urgency to the situation. I’m not trying to be rude but I need to speak to Senoia Griffin. Now.” She glared at him. Held his stare for a full twenty seconds. Then, not breaking eye contact, she picked up the phone, pushed a button and said, “Leo, I need you in my office right now. I have an intruder.” Cecil said, “All right, all right, damn, I’ll go. Call off your security dog. But this isn’t over. Not by a long shot. I’ll be back with a warrant. Soon.” He turned to walk out, stopped and looked back. He looked her up and down for the second time then turned toward the door. She gasped at the audacity of the sneer he’d had on his face as his gaze raked over her. “Lots of luck with that warrant, buster. You’re in New York now. I think you’ll find that people here have rights. Now get out of here, you jerk.” He stalked out of her office, the door slammed behind him, so hard it rattled in the frame. Again. She got up and walked out into the secretarial area. Barbara stood there looking at the suite door and Van said, “Not so much a nerd, huh?” Barbara shook her head. “I know I’m wet. God, what a man.”

BUY LINK: http://www.jasminejade.com/p-10324-hot-pursuit.aspx 

Visit me on the web: www.Jillianchantal.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/JillianChantal 

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/#!/jillian.chantal 

Teaching Officer Lonesome

1-Tell the readers a little about yourself.

Hi!  I live in Southern Oregon with my husband and two little girls.  When I'm not writing, I'm reading, watching movies, or hanging out with my friends and family.  I'm a pretty average Joe :)  

2-As an author, do you take time to read? If so, what do you like to read and who is/are your favorite author/s?

I'm such a book worm.  I blame my parents for that.  They taught me and my siblings to love reading from a very young age.  I can remember spending hours and hours in our rocking chair, reading in front of the fire.  My dad would keep adding more logs to the fire, smiling the whole time.  He knew that fostering this love of reading would be a lifelong gift for us.  And he was right.

I like to read the kind of stories I like to write.  Romantic suspense and paranormal romance.  But I also love mysteries, true crime, chik lit and books on the craft of writing.  Stephen King's On Writing is one of my all time favorite books.  I have an autographed copy!  My pride and joy :)

3-How do you stay motivated when the Muse is uncooperative?

Ugh.  That's a toughie, as all writers know.  I think for me, reading is one of the best motivators.  Reading a great story makes me want to write one.  I also get in the mood to write after watching a really good movie.  Especially ones with a sexy hero or two.  Yummy!  

Sometimes I get a little burned out when my characters or storyline is being uncooperative.  That's when a day off from writing really works wonders.  I've found that I need to give myself a chance to miss it a little.  And I do.  I can't go for more than a few days at the most, or I start to climb the walls.  Then I'm ready to get back at it and the words usually flow much better.

4-If you could go anywhere in the world on a romantic getaway, what would you do and where would you go?

Oh, boy.  Italy.  Everything about that country seems romantic to me.  The wine, the rich European history, the beautiful countryside.  Maybe it's also because one of my favorite movies is Under The Tuscan Sun, and Marcello is such a hearthrob ;)  Frances is a writer and rediscovers her gift when she moves to Tuscany.  Such a great story.  

5-What is the hardest thing for you to write?

I hate transition scenes.  They're a necessary evil, but seem so boring to me.  I struggle to write them in a way that'll still keep my readers interested.

6-If you could live the life of one of your characters who would you be?

What a great question!  I think I'd be Josie from A Death That Lingers.  She's married to an abusive rock star and ends up leaving him to go back to her small home town in Kansas.  She starts a brand new life running her family's antique shop on Main Street and falls in love with the local chief of police (a total hunk).  The only problem is, she ends up being haunted by a very persisent and angry ghost. 

I really love everything about Josie's life (even having to deal with a ghost).  Even though she's moved back to a sleepy, midwestern town, there's never a dull moment for her there. 

7-The tag line on my blog is ‘Indulge Your Inner Romantic.’ What do you do to indulge?

Great tag line!  I like to indulge in time with my best friend.  Once a week we go out for a girl's night, have wine and see a movie.  It's so nice to spend quality time with my husband, but seeing my bestie is like the cherry on top of the sundae.  She balances me out, makes me a happier, more fulfilled person.  That's a healthy indulgence, I think.

A sexy cop with a broken heart is about to be taught a lesson.

Hope Marlow is a twenty-two-year-old seasoned vet when it comes to steamy one-night stands. Hope has had a hard life. From the wrong side of the tracks and abandoned by her mother, she finds herself trying to raise her little sister on a salary that barely pays the bills each month. She's tough, jaded, but when she's pulled over one sweltering summer afternoon for not using her turn signal, she meets her match in a sexually inexperienced cop twice her age.

The day Jack Malone stopped Hope is one he can't forget. It's more than the way she looked in the miniskirt and hot pink tank top, it's her confidence that keeps coming back to haunt him. But Jack is still reeling from his wife's death a year ago, and Hope represents things he thinks he can't have with a woman—passion and a new beginning. Plus, there's the fact that she's practically half his age.

Hope sees things differently. The age difference doesn't bother her, but while Jack craves an emotional connection, Hope has no interest in that. She's an expert at pushing her emotions aside, and she knows that if Jack would let her, she could teach him how fulfilling lust alone can be. With that in mind, she sets out to seduce the sexy cop.

It's only during their first night of passion that they both discover how much they've been missing.

Content Warning: contains sensual sex and some explicit language

About The Author

For Kaylie Newell, storytelling is in the blood. Growing up the daughter of two gifted writers, she knew eventually she’d want to follow in their footsteps. While she’s written short stories her whole life, it wasn’t until after her kids were born that she decided to shoot for the moon and write her first romance novel. She hasn’t looked back since!

Kaylie lives in Southern Oregon with her husband, two little girls, an elderly Chihuahua mix, and two indifferent cats.

She would love to hear from you! You can find her at:
Website: http://www.kaylienewell.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/KaylieNewell
Twitter: http://twitter.com/KaylieNewell

Excerpt

Before her knees could touch the linoleum, Jack grabbed her and pulled her up again. "I don't even know you, Hope. And you don't know me. Don't you think there's something off here?"

"No."

He grunted.

"Well, I don't," she said. "You're a guy. Guys like sex. They understand it. They relate to it. It's how you operate. Lucky for you, I happen to speak guy."

The beginnings of a smile touched his lips. "I don't operate like that. I don't just sleep with random women. I need more than this."

More than this. Hope considered herself pretty tough. She was young, but she'd seen a lot. Her father's abuse, her mother's abandonment, extreme poverty. She'd seen her fair share. But despite that, hearing those words coming from this man, hurt. A lot. She wasn't good enough.

She dropped her hands and stepped back. "I see."

He must have recognized the look on her face, because he immediately reached out again. She pulled away and sat heavily on the couch.

"That's not what I meant."

She bit the inside of her cheek, unable to look at him. "I know what you meant. And that's okay. It really is."

Liar. It's not okay. It's never going to be okay. The steel wall around her heart magically gained another layer as she made a bitter mental note. It's official. Sexy, older soccer dads who look fantastic in their work uniforms, and who also happen to be handy around the house, are off your list, missy.

Jack bent down and took her hands. When she tried to pull them back, he tightened his grip. "Will you listen to me for a second?"

She stared at the floor as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. When he touched his fingers to her chin, they were warm and calloused, rough and sexy. He raised her head gently until she had no choice but to look him in the face.

"That's not what I meant," he said, his voice low. "You're a beautiful young woman. Any man would be lucky to have you."

She clamped her teeth together. I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry.

"I didn't mean I need more than this." Emphasizing the last word, his eyes fell, lingering for a moment on her breasts. "I meant I need more in the form of a relationship."

"A relationship?" She searched his face for any sign he was joking, but found none. He really was too good to be true. "Seriously?"

"Why's that so hard to believe?"

"I've just never met a guy who actually wanted a relationship before sex." She smiled a little, but he remained serious.

"I don't think sex should be a casual thing. I think you should love someone first. Or at least have feelings for them."

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she wondered if she could convince him otherwise. She happened to know sex could be mind-blowing even if you weren't head over heels in love.

"Can I ask you something?" she said.

He sat back on his heels. "Shoot."

"How many women have you been with?"

His face colored, even through the thick, dark stubble which prickled his neck and jaw. "That's none of your business, Hope."

"I think it's relevant to the conversation we're having."

"I'm not discussing this with you."

"Maybe you should."

He was quiet for a minute, and so was she. They stared at each other for a long moment before he spoke again.

"I'm flattered. I really am. But I'm too old for you."

"You think you're too old for me. I feel differently."

He smiled in a way that said he was done talking about it. "I'm too old for you. But I'd like to be friends. Do you think we can manage that?"

Sure. Whatever.

Sticking his hand out to shake, he was suddenly Officer Malone again. The aloof and businesslike cop who had stopped her last week for the blinker thingy.

"Sure," she said, feeling like a little girl with a hopeless crush. "Friends."

Book Spotlight- Tide of Lies by Sarah Ballance

Blurb: A devastating secret. A shocking betrayal. A deadly obsession.

Haunted by three unsolved murders, Detective Holden Whitlow is stunned when his cold case takes a heated turn. Julia Cohen, his ex-lover, is back in town, and in the face of a brutal attack she’s ready to run. No matter how tightly she holds her secrets, for Holden, turning away from the woman he’s spent a decade trying to forget isn’t any more an option than walking away from his job . . . even when it threatens to cost Julia her life.

Julia is still reeling from a past she can’t bear to face. When she becomes the target of a killer, fate throws her back into Holden’s arms, but she’s yet to recover from a truth that has stripped her of everything—and everyone—she loves. Will she tell him the secret that will destroy him, or will her lie destroy them both?

Buy Links: Noble Romance / Amazon / Barnes & Noble

EXCERPT

Another one.

Holden Whitlow could have done without that grim utterance from his sergeant re-entering his life. He exhaled, wishing the hot, summer sun would dissolve some of the unease weighing him down. But the scorching rays cutting through the windshield only left him hot and sticky, prompting his sunglasses to slide down his nose and his shirt to plaster against his back. The discomfort, however, didn't best the miserable prospect of walking onto a crime scene and confronting the fourth murder victim of his short career.

Two years ago, a stalker turned murderer and took three local women as victims. The cases remained unsolved. Holden had been sopping wet behind the ears at the time, but his inexperience landed him a top-notch partner in Greg Martin, the lead detective who since retired. Although the whole Barrier Shoals PD had, at some point, worked the stalker case—Martin even checking in from his living room—guilt led Holden to carry the weight of the unsolved murders solo. It dug deep under his skin, and whether or not his cold case had just been set ablaze, the heat was on.

He wasn't a math guy, but oh-for-four rang in his ears like nails on a chalkboard.

This murderer wouldn't get away.

Spying the convenience store marking the crime scene, Holden steered his Crown Vic into the lot and parked on the far edge, intending to close the last sixty feet on foot. There was no reason to hurry or risk driving over evidence. The girl was dead.

Holden's partner had beat him there, a faux pas the older detective would never let Holden live down. Detective John "Bear" Barrett surveyed the surroundings, fingers splayed on his hips, one hand in the vicinity of his badge and the other in close quarters with a Glock.

"You're late," he said, not bothering to look up as Holden neared.

Holden snorted. "I thought you were on vacation."

"Was. I came back for the show."

"I'm sure our vic appreciates your dedication to the cause," Holden said, not feeling the edge of his own humor. He cast a cursory glance around the defunct Quik-Stop. Dented gas pumps stretched in a forlorn line, islands in a sea of broken glass. Thin lines of grass snaked over the lot, marking cracks in the pavement. Holden smelled the stench of abandonment, felt the pulse of death. "Where's the body?"

"Hospital."

Holden consulted his phone for the time. A quarter hour had passed since the call. A couple of techs had their noses to the pavement, plucking at the scattered, nearly microscopic debris of the abandoned lot with tweezers, but the coroner, David Frankel, was nowhere in sight. Short of disavowing protocol and shoving the body in his trunk, there was no way he could clear a scene in fifteen minutes. "The morgue? Already?"

Bear knelt, balancing on the balls of his feet, and cocked his head, studying the ground. Shifting his sunglasses away from his eyes, he raised an arm and motioned over a young woman from forensics.

"Make sure you catch this trail," he said, pointing first to his feet, then in a line toward the building. Without waiting for her response, he righted himself and returned the shades to his nose. "I said hospital, Whitlow. Not morgue. Considering the victim is still breathing—but barely—I don't think she'd take kindly to a tour of the basement."

"She's alive?"

Bear paced the twenty feet to the painted brick corner of the store. A metal door on the side hung slightly ajar, the word "JON" displayed with crooked, stuck-on letters. He nudged open the door wider with his foot. Seconds later, his head jerked to the side as if the stench had reached out and slapped him.

Laughing, Holden edged closer. "I could have told you not to breathe, Detective."

He pulled a penlight from his pocket and directed it inside the stall, pressing his mouth in a thin line to suppress his gag reflex. Questionable patches in various shades of brown smeared the floors, and the toilet held what appeared to be a solid mass of waste he didn't care to investigate. His quick sweep of the room came to an abrupt end at the sink, where dark crimson marred the already stained porcelain.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Holden asked, glancing to Bear, who had joined him in the doorway.

"Looks like blood to me." Bear shook his head. "I'd sure hate to be the guy sopping up DNA out of that shit hole."

Holden scratched the back of his neck, surveying the handful of officers and forensic techs scattered over the scene. "I can't imagine why anyone would want to go in there, criminal or otherwise."

That particular restroom had never been golden. When he was at the tender, scheming age of fourteen, he and his buddy, Bridger Jansen, used to buy cigarettes from an elderly—and half blind—cashier and hide in the bathroom to smoke. Fully functioning, it hadn't smelled much better than it did now.

Bear covered his nose and mouth with his forearm.

"Well, someone wanted in, and recently," he said, his voice muffled. "See a rookie due for a hazing?"

With a rueful glance through the open doorway, Holden shook his head. "That's why I don't work forensics."

"Yeah," Bear said, walking away from the building. "Someone else does the grunt work, and we get the glory. Cushy job, huh?"

Glory. Not much of that in three unsolved murders. Holden joined Bear by the curb where he stood—his foot propped on the concrete—and shook off a squirrely sense of déjà vu. No. This one was different. "She's alive, you say?"

"Catch up, Whitlow. Unconscious when they found her, but breathing. Who told you she was dead?"

Holden mentally wheeled back through the phone call from his sergeant. He hadn't specifically said the woman was dead, but the implication had been there. Another one.

"The victim, where was she?" Only a few rushed footprints disturbed the grime and . . . stuff on the bathroom floor. The victim couldn't have been there in a state of failing consciousness, which begged three questions: Where had the blood come from? Whose blood was in the bathroom . . . and how did it get there?

Pointing to a cluster of uniforms, Bear said, "Victim was balled up over there on the pavement. Kid in the jeans called it in. Said he thought he saw her breathing but was afraid to get too close. Didn't want the breeze blowing his DNA on her or something."

Holden followed Bear's gesture, pegging the kid at the other end of it for about fifteen. He was tall and scrawny, with the height of a man but none of the bulk. Head down and sans his shoes, he toed the end of a skateboard, causing it to clack against the pavement. Long, blond bangs obscured his face. "Did he see anything?"

"A lump out of the corner of his eye. He was cruising down the sidewalk when he noticed her. He came over to investigate. When he realized the object was human, he freaked and dialed 9-1-1 from his cell phone. Or that's his story, anyway."

Holden's jaw clenched. He didn't like getting his information secondhand. Bear had a good eight years of police experience over him, though, and his work was meticulous. Whatever information he had would be good. "You don't believe him?"

"It's the scene of the crime, Whitlow. I don't believe anyone yet."

Holden set his jaw. "Do you have a reason—?"

Bear grinned, and then leaned closer. "Between you and me, he's about to piss himself. Did I mention the kid was bleeding? Nice little gash on his hand. I bet my badge that blood in the bathroom is his."

"Yeah," Holden grumbled. "Empty wager. You just like toying with me."

"I'm a high stakes man." Bear grinned and cocked his head toward the restroom. "What do you want to believe he stepped in something?"

That would certainly explain why the boy was standing there in his socks. Nothing to ruin an afternoon like having your shoes hijacked as evidence. Holden tried to imagine how that excuse would have flown with his own mother, fast deciding it wouldn't. He hoped the kid was as innocent as he looked. Holden turned to Bear. "Hey, how did you get here so fast? You're making me look bad."

"Eh. My wife dragged me to the gallery around the corner for some watercolor exhibit. I drew the line at an hour-long session on interpretation, so she cut me loose to grab some coffee. I was right across the street when the call came." He held up a paper cup in mock salute.

Holden hadn't even noticed Bear's car was absent. Some detective. "I don't guess you saw anything?"

"Nope, not a thing. Everything was quiet until the sirens started blaring. I got here about the time the ambulance did. Cramer was the first uniform on the scene, but not by much. I watched him pull in. It's pretty quiet around here—especially for a Saturday afternoon."

That it was, especially for tourist season. A quaint resort town alongside the Atlantic Ocean, Barrier Shoals usually hosted tourists from May through September, and this morning shouldn't have been an exception. But other than a small crowd drawn by the police presence, the lonely corner now felt . . . dead.

Holden winced at the thought.

Bear crossed his arms and fixed his sunglass-covered stare on Holden. "You've still got your head in your ass over those murders a few years back."

"No . . . yeah." Holden blew a sharp breath and planted his hands on his head. "Hell, Barrett, I don't know. It's hard sitting on a case you never solved. The guilt doesn’t go away just because you close the file."

"Wouldn't know about that. My closure rate is pristine."

Holden rolled his eyes, dropping his hands to his hips. "If you're so smart, work the cold case. You find the guy."

"In due time, partner. We've got a hot one, so how about we stick to the living victims for now?" Bear's cell phone chirped. He consulted the screen, and then held up a finger signaling he needed a minute. Lifting the device to his ear, he said, "Barrett."

Turning to allow Bear a modicum of privacy, Holden rolled his shoulders and cocked his head, popping his neck. He was off his game, unable to shake the discord that arrived on the heels of the initial call. Another one. Clearly, Holden wasn't the only one haunted by the past. His sergeant's tone had carried the same wariness now lumped in Holden's chest. The question was, why?

What was it about this call that had set off eerie alarm bells in both their minds? The vic wasn't dead. Nothing about this scene seemed remotely connected to the others—and yet . . . Barrier Shoals was a small town. Most of the crime he handled was the minor break-ins and purse snatchings that seemed to plague the tourist season. A murder. An assault. These were rare. Rare enough to raise the sergeant's hackles. And after all the dead ends he'd been finding lately, Holden was on edge, as well.

Behind him, Bear cleared his throat. "You want to go talk to the vic? I can handle things here."

Holden turned, looking at Bear in surprise. "Me? It's not like you to give up a bedside encounter with a woman."

Bear dropped his cell phone in his pocket and shrugged, his self-proclaimed lady-killing grin in a lazy sprawl across his face. "You have a point there, but I'm not into sloppy seconds."

The dig worked. Holden froze. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You got me, Whitlow, but our vic is awake. Seems the lovely Julia Cohen is asking for you by name."

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Sarah and her husband of almost fifteen what he calls "long, long" years live on the mid-Atlantic coast with their six young children, all of whom are perfectly adorable when they're asleep.  She often jokes that she writes to be around people who will listen to her, but her characters aren't much better than her kids.  Fortunately, her husband is quite supportive, having generously offered to help her research "the good parts" . . .  and she's never had to ask twice.

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