Friday, August 31, 2012

Labor Day 2012 Blog Hop

Welcome to my stop on the Romance at Random Labor Day Hop, which will run from September 1 - September 15, 2012 (9/1/12-9/15/12).  There will be two contests you can enter at my blog during this hop.  One sponsored by Romance at Random and the other sponsored by Me.  

I hope everyone has a safe, relaxing and Happy Labor Day! 

Please be sure to check out all of the stops: 
  a Rafflecopter giveaway

  a Rafflecopter giveaway

Friday, August 24, 2012

VBT - Heart of the Ozarks by LeeAnn Sontheimer Murphy

Welcome to my stop on the Virtual Book Tour for Heart of the Ozarks by LeeAnn Sontheimer Murphy.  LeeAnn was kind enough to answer my interview questions below.  Please be sure to leave a comment or question for her below as LeeAnn will be giving away eBook copies of Heart of the Ozarks to fifteen (15) random commenters during her tour.  You can follow her tour here.  Please also check out my review of her book here.   



Me:  Several of the books you've written have been set in Missouri, where you live, with this newest one being set in the Ozarks.  What is it about the Ozarks that made this a perfect setting for this romance?

LeeAnn:  The Ozarks offers a lot of a natural beauty and it's long been a place where people from the larger cities come for some rest and relaxation.  My own journey here began, like the hero in the novel, coming to visit the region during the summer with my grandparents.

Me:  What was it like growing up in Neosho, the home of Camp Crowder with "Beattle Bailey" fame?  
LeeAnn:  I didn't actually grow up in Neosho - I'm originally from St. Joseph, MO, the old river town north of Kansas City where Jesse James met his end and the Pony Express began it's short-lived but well-known existence.  I moved to Neosho when my family relocated to follow my dad's career with the USDA as a teen.  I did start college at Crowder College, a local junior college on part of the old Army base.  It's funny but some locals still hate the Camp Crowder era because, as one older resident once told me, the changes to Neosho were like night and day.  There's still another elderly man who contacts me to rail about the loss of his family farm when the Army took the land to build the Camp.  As a college student, I wrote for the campus newspaper and did a series of articles about the transition from camp to junior college.  I dragged my photographer way out into the boonies to shoot pics of some of the remaining buildings and places.  Fewer still exist now and more of the former base is off-limits.  And, there is still an active Missouri National Guard installation on site.

Me:  Your first experiences as a "professional writer" were at a young age when you were one of the editors for "The Crowder Quill" - the campus magazine for Missouri Southern State University - when you look back on those days, did you ever think you would make a living as a romance fiction writer?
LeeAnn:  I served in an editorial basis for both "The Crowder Quill" (which was at Crowder College) and "The Winged Lion" at Missouri Southern State.  I hoped to make a living as a writer one day although I didn't really think about becoming a romance writer.  It was during my senior year, however, one of my professors called me to come chat about what I'd like to do in life and first suggested becoming a full-time writer, possibly an author could happen.  He didn't said it would but he said I had the potential to make it possible.

Me:  You've had various careers over the years; broadcasting, substitute school teacher, working at Wal-Mart, and now you write a weekly local history and nostalgia column for your local paper The Neosho Daily News.  Can you tell us how much research you do for your columns, or what type of research you do and what it's like to write non-fiction about the area you live in?
LeeAnn:  It's interesting.  I love history - actually majored in both Communication Arts and History in college - and the Ozarks are a rich region in history.  Some of the research that ends up in my novels is often also used in my columns.  As an example, the subdivision where I live was a flourishing fruit farm in the early 1900's and a beautiful brick house in town was built from one year's strawberry profits (or so the legend goes).  I wrote a column about it and then used the idea to create a fictional love story in "In Love's Own Time".   I've spent some time researching Camp Crowder and other local points of interest.  And sometimes I write about things in my life, tied in with the nostalgia and history theme.

Me:  Do you base the characters in your stories on local people in the area you live?  On family members and friends?
LeeAnn:  None of my characters are 100% based on anyone real but I often use characteristics from relatives, maybe even a few friends.  People who know me well often try to guess who a character is based upon or try to point out the similarities.  Sometimes they nail it and sometimes not.

Me:  Who has been the biggest writing influence in your life and your most staunch supporter?
LeeAnn:  My paternal grandmother (Granny) wrote a beautiful class prophecy essay when she graduated from school and when I read it in my teens, I had to ask her why she hadn't become a writer.  Her simple words offered inspiration - "I couldn't," she said.  She didn't have to list reasons why - I knew as a wife and mother through two world wars, the Great Depression, twice widowed, a single mother, she couldn't.  Then she added, "But you can - and should."  She encouraged me to write and to reach for the stars and so did her youngest son, my dad.  Both supported me in every way possible and although both are gone from life now, the legacy continues.  I also have an amazing group of other family members including everyone from my kids to dozens of cousins who support me all the way.

Me:  You have school age children, write fiction and non-fiction, have a husband and belong to several writing organizations.  What is the best advice you can give to a new author about balancing your time and focus?  
LeeAnn:  You must make up your mind writing is a serious business, not a hobby, not a fun pastime.  Writing has to become a priority even if you can only write for fifteen or thirty minutes a day.  Have a routine and stick to it.  Don't be afraid to accept constructive criticism and develop a thick skin.  Keep learning, always improving.  I'll be very honest and share when my writing career as an author really began to happen came after I made up my mind to treat writing as if it were a job.

Me:  Can you tell us what your working on next?  What can we expect to see from you in 2012 and 2013?
LeeAnn:  For the rest of 2012, I have at least four new releases slated...a historical 1930's romance, Dust Bowl Dreams coming September 17 from Rebel Ink Press, a collection of connected short stories coming October 3, also from Rebel, called Kosovo Tales: Two Hearts, One Love, another Romance on The Go short work from Evernight Publishing in October, An Emerald Heart, a contemporary November 3, Devlin's Grace, from Rebel Ink Press, and I'm not sure if it's scheduled for this year or next but one more from Rebel, Three Encounters of the Close Kind.  
In 2013, I have my first title coming out from Secret Cravings in both eBook and paperback, The Sin Eater's Redemption, in January and May, I believe.  I also have another from Champagne Books, Urban Renewal coming in March 2013.  I will also have a short stand alone with some of the characters from my first Rebel Ink Press release, Love Never Fails, titled Three of Hearts out early next year.  Plus many more, I hope!

Right now, I'm working on one for Rebel Ink Press, untitled but contemporary.  I also have several other projects in the works as well.

Quick Get to Know You Questions:

Favorite Color?  Red
Favorite Snack? Popcorn
Favorite Childhood Author? Betty Smith (I read adult books at an early age)
Currently Reading? A biography of Rudolph Valentino
Favorite TV Show? Numb3rs!
Favorite Vacation Spot? Anywhere with a beautiful beach
Favorite Song? Take Me Like I Am....Johnny Horton
Heels or Boots? Boots
Title: Heart of the Ozark
Author: Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy
Publisher: Rebel Ink Press
Length: 75,000 words
Genre(s): Romance
Sub-Genre(s) Contemporary
Sub-Categories: Second Chance at Love
Heat Level: Steamy (Hot sex scenes/language, but not explicit)



After St. Louis TV weathercaster Cole Celinksi loses his almost estranged wife and three children in a car crash, his boss orders him to take a leave of absence.  Against his will, Cole leaves the city in late May to find the rest and relaxation everyone else thinks he needs. Without anywhere else to go, Cole heads for Lake Dreams, a resort on the quiet side of Lake Taneycomo in the Ozarks he visited each summer as a child with his grandparents.  Some of his best memories were made in the lakeside vacation haven with his summer friend, Maggie.

Upon his arrival, Cole learns Maggie now runs the place.  Twenty years have passed but from the minute he returns, they reconnect and soon their mutual attraction ignites.  He fishes in the lake, takes Maggie to visit some of the places he remembers and begins to find out who he truly is. Before he can heal, he must learn to deal with his loss and to see if he can create a new family with Maggie and her children. It’s a task he’s not sure he can handle but if he wants to be with Maggie, he must. A near tragedy brings them all together into a close knit unit and afterward, Cole may be able to make his dreams reality.


Maggie took three steps forward until she stood in front of him and put one hand on his chest.  She stared at him for a moment stretching out long and then stood on tip-toe to kiss his mouth, very gentle and soft.  It wasn’t a lover’s kiss, not quite, but intimate and Cole’s reaction surged through his body with a rush.  Her mouth’s brief caress whispered affection and familiarity.

“Go get changed,” she said, “We’re not fancy at Dove Chapel but shorts won’t do.  I’ll come pick you up in a half hour, okay?”

“Sure,” Cole said, “I’ll be ready.”

When she rolled to a stop beneath the cabin’s porch, he hurried down, wearing the single pair of Dockers he’d brought along with a button-down shirt. Maggie smiled, dressed now in an attractive navy blue and white print dress, hose, and dark blue heels. She’d also put on more make-up than he’d seen her wear yet and tamed her hair into a bun on the back of her head, held in place with a plastic clip.

“You look lovely,” Cole said, his eyes drinking in her beauty.

“Thanks,” she laughed, “Don’t turn my head or I’ll get nervous.”

She drove around the winding curves along the back roads to the old church, handling the car with skill. They didn’t talk much but she sometimes broke into song, practicing he guessed.  Cole realized he’d never ridden with Maggie at the wheel before. He recalled during the last summer he spent here driving Pop’s Impala with Maggie riding shotgun to Dove Chapel.

When the church came into view Cole’s chest tightened with sudden anxiety.  Too late to turn back, now he wasn’t sure he should have come. He offered up his first prayer in a very long time and begged God no one be present from St. Louis.

“Will people ask who I am?” he said as they climbed out of the car.

“Probably,” Maggie replied, “And everyone will stare at you and be nosy.”

His heart slowed and his stomach clenched.  “Tell me you’re kidding.”

She grinned, “I’m not, really but it’ll be fine, Cole.  Trust me, okay?”

If he hadn’t wanted to hear her sing and watch, he’d gone back to the car but he sighed instead. “All right, I’ll try to be on my best behavior.”

They settled into a pew midway down the right side of the aisle.  As Cole looked around the once familiar church, he could almost believe he’d been transported back to Mayberry or to a sound stage somewhere. The humble country church appeared to date to the early 19th century and he figured it probably did.  Before he could analyze his thoughts further, a couple in their sixties appeared and greeted Maggie.

“Oh, you look so pretty, honey,” the woman said, “Who’s your friend?”

Cole cringed and restrained from ducking his head like a bashful child as Maggie rested one hand on his knee and said, “This is Cole Celinksi, an old friend.  He used to spend his summers at the resort when we were kids.  Cole, this is Irene Matthews and her husband, Tom.  They used to own a little motel over on the other side of Taneycomo, where Branson Landing is now.”

“Hi,” Cole said, extending his hand in greeting. “It’s nice to meet you.”

He repeated the phrase for the next ten minutes until the service began and everyone settled into place for worship.  Maggie remained in the pew through the opening song but then she headed up front. Cole watched, awestruck, as she stood in front of the upright piano and clasped her hands.  From the rear of the church, someone struck up guitar chords for the melody and she sang in a clear, full voice.  The sound of it filled the little old church and resounded around the room.  For Cole, it seemed as if she sang to him alone. Her eyes never left his face as she trilled out the lively song and as the message tucked within the music penetrated his heart, tears trailed down his cheeks, slow and steady.

Until then, he’d never realized how angry he’d been with a god who allowed his kids to die or how high a wall he’d erected around his faith to hide it. Listening to Maggie’s pure voice, he realized God sent joy to his people, a joy to dance about even when the devil’s on your back. He’d shut himself off from joy and wallowed in sorrow.  In her voice, he heard echoes of his children’s laughter and Cole moved his lips, singing along with Maggie without sound. As soon as she finished, she came to the pew and slid in beside him.

Cole reached out and squeezed her hand, speechless with emotion.  As the pastor took the pulpit and began to preach, Maggie handed him a tissue from her purse and whispered, “Are you okay?”

He nodded, mopping away his tears. “I’m good, Maggie.  Your song touched me.”

Maggie slipped her arm through his and leaned against him.  Her whisper came like a breath of wind, for his ears only, “I’m glad.”

Although the sermon lasted a full thirty minutes and the volume increased, Cole didn’t hear a word of it.  His mind reflected on the song but his awareness of Maggie beside him increased until he thought of nothing else but her and where their friendship might go from this point.

Her soft perfume permeated his nose and beneath it he could smell her lavender shampoo.  Each breath she drew he felt and when the congregation joined in song, her voice matched his.  Since he came to Branson, Cole’d known several quiet moments with Maggie but this one eased his inner turmoil in a different, more powerful way.

The thought struck him he belonged with Maggie and maybe he’d find his way home with her help.

He liked it almost enough to forget the idea scared the hell out of him.




Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy is a full-time romance author.  A native of the old historic city of St. Joseph, Missouri, one time home to both Jesse James and the Pony Express, she now lives and writes in the beautiful Missouri Ozark region.  Her romance novels include Love Never Fails, Witness Protection Program, Sing We Now of Christmas, A Patient Heart, In Love’s Own Time, Miss Good Samaritan, In The Shadow of War, Guy’s Angel,  and Heart of the Ozarks, all from Rebel Ink Press.  She also has six other novels and several novellas available. Her work also appears in more than twenty anthologies and she has multiple short story/non-fiction credits.

She is a member of RWA, Missouri Writers Guild, EPIC, and the Ozarks Writers League. Her work also appears in multiple anthologies. She earned a BA degree in both English and History from Missouri Southern State University as well as an AA Degree in Journalism from Crowder College.  She worked in broadcast media for a decade and also has a background in education.  Her weekly column “Hindsight” appears each week in the Neosho Daily News.

She is married to Roy W. Murphy and the couple has three children, Emily, Megan, and Patrick Murphy.

If Lee Ann – or Lee as many of her writing friends know her – isn’t writing, she’s reading or spending time outdoors.

In Neosho, Missouri, the small town she now calls home, she serves on the local library board, is active in the annual Relay For Life fight against cancer, has worked with the local Arts Council, and is active in her parish.

Rebel Writer - Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy:
Seanachie Stories: Tuesday Tales And More:

Don't forget to leave a comment or question for LeeAnn below.  Please use the Rafflecopter form below to enter her giveaway.  You can follow her tour here.

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Review - Heart Of The Ozarks by LeeAnn Sontheimer Murphy

Title: Heart of the Ozarks
Author: LeeAnn Sontheimer-Murphy
Publisher: Rebel Ink Press, LLC
Publication Date: August 1, 2012
Length: 202 Pages
Heat Level: Sensual/Mildly Spicy

Purchase Links:

Amazon |Barnes and Noble | All Romance eBooks 


After St. Louis TV weathercaster Cole Celinksi loses his almost estranged wife and three children in a car crash, his boss orders him to take a leave of absence. Against his will, Cole leaves the city in late May to find the rest and relaxation everyone else thinks he needs. Without anywhere else to go, Cole heads for Lake Dreams, a resort on the quiet side of Lake Taneycomo in the Ozarks he visited each summer as a child with his grandparents. Some of his best memories were made in the lakeside vacation haven with his summer friend, Maggie.

Upon his arrival, Cole learns Maggie now runs the place. Twenty years have passed but from the minute he returns, they reconnect and soon their mutual attraction ignites. He fishes in the lake, takes Maggie to visit some of the places he remembers and begins to find out who he truly is. Before he can heal, he must learn to deal with his loss and to see if he can create a new family with Maggie and her children. It’s a task he’s not sure he can handle but if he wants to be with Maggie, he must. A near tragedy brings them all together into a close knit unit and afterward, Cole may be able to make his dreams reality.

My Review:

Heart of the Ozarks by LeeAnn Sontheimer-Murphy is beautiful second chance romance between two young lovers who haven't seen each other in almost 20 years.  With likable characters and sharp dialogue, Ms. Murphy captured my attention from the first page and didn't let go until the end.  The emotional journey both primary characters, Cole and Maggie, undertake is full of heartbreak, sorrow and then hope.  Watching their re-kindled friendship and then romance come back to life was a joyful experience.  Part of the reason I wanted to review this book is because it's set in my home state and I've visited the Branson area several times, Ms. Murphy did a wonderful job capturing both the tourist attraction and small town vibe the area is known for and reading this book was somewhat of a stay home mini-vacation.

Cole Celinksi is a man who's lost everything; his wife and three kids perished in a car accident, which he feels guilty for.  Torn between guilt and loss, he's barely managed to keep his head above water.  When Cole is placed on a mandatory leave of absence from his job - he decides to head to Lake Taneycomo and the cabin where he enjoyed spending his summers as a child with his grandparents.  He knows he needs to make some changes and grieve for his family, but he never counted on an old friend helping him regain his zest for life.

Maggie Brown remembers her childhood friend and first sweetheart but isn't prepared for the changed man Cole has become.  Determined to help an old friend she hasn't seen in years, Maggie encourages Cole to release his pain and enjoy the time he's been given away from work.  Maggie knows a lot about pain and loss, she never planned on becoming a single mother or running the Lake Dreams Resort after her parents retired.  As Maggie helps Cole regain his zest for life and love, she rediscovers her love for her childhood friend.  

As Maggie and Cole become closer, Cole is able to let go of the pain and guilt which has taken over his life.  As he bonds with Maggie's kids, Keifer and Kaitlin, Cole begins to dream of a future with a new family.  When tragedy strikes, will the love Cole and Maggie have be enough to help them through the dark period they have to experience?  You;ll have to read Heart of the Ozarks to find out.  I loved this story and I'm looking forward to reading more of Ms. Murphy's work.

My Rating:  5 out of 5 Crowns

VBT - The Dark Man's Son by Meg Whitlock

Hello and welcome to my stop on Meg Whitlock's Virtual Book Tour for The Darkman's Son.  Meg was kind enough to do a guest post below.  Please be sure to leave a comment below as Meg will be awarding 1 eBook copy of The Dark Man's son to each of fifteen (15) randomly drawn commenters during her tour.  Please make sure to enter the Rafflecopter form below and follow her tour stops here.  The more often you comment, the better your odds at winning a copy of her book.


Title: The Dark Man's Son (Guardian Chronicles, Part 1)
Author: Meg Whitlock
Publisher: Self
Length: Approx. 385 pages
Genres: Historical Paranormal/Fantasy Fiction


She claimed the muggers were demons, but of course Jason didn’t believe her. At first.

When a mysterious woman appears in a dirty alley to rescue Jason Latimer from a pair of muggers, he tries to write her off as a garden variety lunatic. But he can’t shake the memory of her intense green eyes that seemed to flash gold, or the glowing sword she’d worn on her hip.

She calls herself Alex (no last name) like she’d made it up on the spot, and she offers Jason her protection. From what, she can’t or won’t say. He refuses, and that night he dreams of a dark man with the same offer. His black eyes flash blood and garnet, and he smells of burning things. Jason refuses him, too.

A chance meeting brings Alex and Jason together again, and she tells him of the Guardians: two immortal beings created near the beginning of time with the express purpose of fighting for mortal-kind’s soul. She is Light, and the man from Jason’s dream is Dark. Jason must choose, because Lucifer, for reasons purely his own, has unleashed the armies of Hell to hunt Jason down.

But there are things about Jason that not even he knows, and he’ll face hard truths and bitter choices as he struggles to find his place in a world redefined. Will he rise to the challenge, or, when the time comes, will he falter?

From Renaissance Florence to the French Revolution, from World War II to the modern streets of New Orleans, The Dark Man’s Son is a riveting journey filled with unforgettable characters, wry humor, dark twists, and a touch of romance.


He turned away from the door with an angry huff of breath, and she followed him inside. Closed the door behind them. “The library’s through here,” he grumbled. “Do you really know anything about old books, or was this whole thing just some weird set-up?”

She followed him down the short hall and lingered in the library’s doorway to get a good look at the room. “That would be an elaborate plan, even for me,” she said, her eyes trained on the sprawling shelves. “No, the bookstore you called is mine, and I’m the one who does all the appraisals. When I saw your name in the appointment book…well, I figured it was just a funny little twist of fate.”

“Fate has a pretty messed up sense of humor.”

Her gaze moved to rest on him for the first time since they’d come into the library. “Yes. But she’s also a stubborn bitch, and arguing with her is futile. So here I am.”

He crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned back against the desk. Dark blue eyes narrowed as he watched her set the briefcase on the table and begin to unpack its contents. “Your brother says hi.”

She froze, though only for a moment. “Does he?” she said. He sensed the strain in her voice as she struggled to sound casual; her hands trembled; she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “And how did you two get on?”

Jason gave a lazy shrug. “Not so well, actually. He’s sorta pushy.”

She snorted and seemed to relax. “Nailed it. He’s very impatient, and very ruthless. I am a bit surprised he found you so quickly, though.” She pulled on a pair of white cotton gloves and flashed him a smile. “Where would you like to begin?”

“Are you serious about this?”

“You made an appointment, Jason. You obviously have need of my services,” she said with a gesture that encompassed the neat stacks and the mess he’d already made. “I wouldn’t think our prior meeting should have any impact on a possible business relationship, should it?”

“I’m sorry, I just…this is all a bit too weird for me.” He rubbed the tattoo on his upper arm like he did when he was anxious or deep in thought. She caught the gesture, and her eyes narrowed.

“Interesting tattoo,” she said.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I designed it myself.”

“Did you?” she murmured. “Hmm.” She took a few steps closer, and the whisper-soft feel of her gloved fingers against his skin surprised him. “What was your inspiration?”
“Um, you know, just…life? I don’t know, really. I wanted a tattoo, and I wanted something different. I sat down and started doodling, and this is what I came up with.”

“Hm,” she said again. Her expression turned quizzical, and she cocked her head to the side like a curious bird. “What do you do, Jason? When you’re not being attacked by demons or overwhelmed by an old man’s minutiae, I mean.”

He had to smile at the way she phrased it; it was the first genuine smile he could remember since hearing about his grandfather’s death. His navy eyes warmed and a dimple appeared in his left cheek; a shallower one flashed on the right. Her own mouth curved helplessly in response. “What’s so funny?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said with a shake of his head. “Everything. I don’t know. But to answer your original question, I work with wood. I guess you could call me a carpenter.”

“Like my brother,” she said.

“That creepy guy’s a carpenter?”

She made an impatient gesture. “No, of course not. My other brother.”

Somehow his mind made the impossible leap, and shook his head again at this new madness. “You’re insane. Are you trying to tell me your brother—”

“I’m a child of the Divine,” she said in that same serene, implacable tone. “So was he. Different, of course, but the same.” She shrugged a little. “There were many before him, a few since, and there will be more. It’s just the way of things.”

He didn’t have an answer to this, but she didn’t seem to expect one. “The creature you met last night—what did he call himself?”


Her expression turned sour. “Of course he would. Luke. He employs a thousand tiny cruelties. Do me a favor: next time you see him—and there will be a next time, I’m sure of it—call him Cassius.” Her eyes seemed over-bright, and her next words were brisk. “As for carpentry, he’s incapable of creating anything. He exists only to rot and destroy.”

“He called you a bringer of nightmares.”

She wandered away and began to carefully sort through some of the books he’d culled from the deeper parts of the library. “Yes. He would. To his kind, I am a nightmare.”

Jason ran frustrated hands through his hair; scraped it back off his forehead and tugged hard. “Could you please just explain to me what you are? I’ve been trying to find some sort of clue, but it’s like no one has ever heard of you.”

“I told you last night that we keep a low profile. It’s necessary when you’ve existed…as long as we have.”

“Enough with the riddles, lady—Claire or Alex, whatever your name is! I’m tired of these mind games. I just want a straight answer.”

She cleared her throat and stroked a leather binding. “Your grandfather seems to have an extensive collection of books on demonology, mythology, and religion.”

“Yeah, I noticed that. So?”

“Some of these are quite rare. Look at this. I haven’t seen one of these in centuries.” She held up a thick book, its binding dark and cracking with age, but Jason ignored it.

“You mean…no one’s seen one of those in centuries. Like…reports and stuff haven’t mentioned it. Not you, personally.”

Her jade eyes—flashing gold, like he’d noticed last night—met his, and the expression there terrified him. “I’m a daughter of the Divine, Jason. Do you have any idea what means?”

“Obviously I don’t. Why do you think I’ve been begging you for a little clarification?”
Her mouth lifted at one corner. “You won’t believe me.”

“I already don’t believe half the stuff you say. I don’t know how much worse it could get.”

She turned away and very deliberately set the delicate old book back on the table. When she faced him again, her eyes were entirely gold, no trace of the green. Jason blinked. “Your…eyes…? What…?” A trick of the light, it had to be.

“It’s not a trick, Jason.” She took a step toward him, and he pushed away from the desk and backed up. She kept advancing; he kept retreating. She stopped and sighed. “You’ve no reason to fear me.”

“You’re joking, right? I watched you beat up a guy three times your size. I met that freak show who calls himself your brother. Now you’re standing in my grandfather’s library with color-change eyes claiming that you remember a book from centuries ago. Either one of us is seriously unhinged—”

“Or it’s all true,” she said gently.

“I was gonna say ‘or we both are’.”

She pulled the desk chair out for him. “Sit down, Jason.” She claimed one of the chairs near the fireplace and dragged it closer. “We need to have a serious talk.”

Night Owl Reviews:
Lady Caella:
Close Encounters w/ the Night Kind:
Rabid Reads:
Laurie’s Paranormal Thoughts and Reviews:
Cathy Speight on Famous Five Plus:
Karen Bryant-Doering on FFP:
TeAmNeRd ReViEwS:



Meg Whitlock has been writing nearly all her life, and she’s glad she finally got over her laziness and wrote the book she’s been dreaming about for years. She graduated from Queens University of Charlotte with a BA in Comparative Arts with an Art History specialization and an Ancient History minor…which is a mouthful no matter how you say it. She has four cats (including an invisible one), a car named Babar, and a vivid imagination.

In 2001 her one-act play, “The Shoebox,” was produced by Catawba College in Salisbury, NC and presented at the American College Theatre Festival. She was honored by Art:21 and the Mint Museum of Art for her essay “Kara Walker: Using Stereotypes to Provoke Thought,” and she’s won awards for both her fiction and non-fiction writing.


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