From Mr. Write: Book One in the new Sweetwater Series.
"The cat purred, and Tucker scratched its belly. He guessed it was kind of cute, despite the Jabba-the-Hutt thing it had going on.
Tucker’s head came up.
“Useless, where are you, you obstinate little butthead?”
Fighting back a grin, Tucker looked down toward the ground. Sarah stood near the hedge, glowering toward his house.
“Looking for someone?” he called down, satisfied when she jumped.
Shielding her eyes, Sarah looked up through the branches. A stray beam of sunlight turned her hair to flame.
“Not you, though it’s nice to know you recognize those qualities in yourself.” Then a little less sassily, “I seem to have lost my cat again.”
“Does he look like this?” Tucker held the animal up to the open window.
“I can’t believe you named your pet that.”
“He’s a neutered male. Don Juan seemed cruel.”
“He got stuck in my tree.” Tucker tried to resurrect his earlier resentment, but between amusement and the purring cat, he just couldn’t find it in him.
“I ran into the house for something and he made his escape. Guess he was hoping to catch you in the shower again.”
“You want to come up and join me, I’ll be happy to let him watch.”
“That’s very generous, but I have some paint I need to watch dry.”
He grinned. “Sooner or later, Red, I’m going to make you eat those words."
From Admit One: Book Two in the new Sweetwater Series.
Her hand bumped against something hard, something that made a sharp, hollow sound as it rolled away. A glass bottle, she thought. Like a beer bottle. That was the other scent she’d smelled. Had Harlan…
No. Allie refused to believe it. Harlan was almost six months sober. He’d worked too hard to get sober to fall off the wagon now. She only wished they’d realized he’d had a problem before it got so bad. He’d started drinking in high school, but that wasn’t so unusual. Most teenagers –
Allie froze. Teenagers. Drinking.
Her head spun, and she had to grab it with both hands. The dizziness passed, but behind it came a rush of horrified awareness.
The mausoleum. Someone had broken into the mausoleum. She’d stopped to see if they needed help and…
A whimper emerged from Allie’s throat, the sound of a wounded animal.
She knew exactly where she was.
From Serendipity: Book One in a Series
Jordan looked out the bank of windows behind the kitchen table. The sky was a pure cerulean, softened, as if by an artist’s brush, with thin strokes of wispy clouds. Tulips stuck up like lollipops from the big pots the florist had positioned on the sidewalk. Cars blurred past, people strolled out of the coffee shop carrying fat pastries and skinny lattes, a little girl skipped, hand-in-hand with her mother, toward the preschool on the corner.
A beautiful spring day in a beautiful city.
And somewhere, among the cobblestones and horse drawn carriages,
the haze of history and specters of the past,
lurked a modern day monster.
From Forbidden: Book Two in a Series
Sailboats, wings unfurled, glided past other pleasure craft on the silent waters, which lapped gently along the seawall in undulating waves. A salt breeze blew in periodically, carrying the scents of diesel and brine, breaking the stillness of the air which hung thick and damp after the earlier storm. Lingering raindrops fell from the fronds of the nearby palmettos in a steady, rhythmic patter. A lone blue heron, unfurled wings more graceful than the sailboats’, soared high and far into the heavy cover of dusk.
It was too beautiful a view for a degenerate.
Sighing, Clay loosened his tie from his sweat-dampened collar, trying to catch some of the cooling whisper of air as it sighed past. He was hot, tired and disgusted. More than ever, he’d like to pack it in and call it a day.
But there was a monster still out there somewhere, who saw dollar signs in a young girl’s innocence. And since he had to get into the forbidden corners in the mind of that monster, he, like evil, couldn’t sleep.
From Deception: Book Three in a Series
“One push,” he told her softly. “One push from my thumb and its lights out, Samantha. A shame,” he continued in that conversational tone that was completely divorced from the current reality. “I didn’t want to have to kill you.”
The tip of the needle pressed into the soft skin of her neck, and though he was obviously threatening her to keep her quiet, her throat was too bruised for her to do much more than squeak. He dragged her backwards toward the edge of her brother’s bed, heading farther away from the doorway. Sam looked plaintively toward that opening hoping one of the nurses or orderlies would come in.
But given the noise still coming from the hall she figured she was on her own.
From Nemesis: Book Four in a Series
Screaming like the hounds of Hell were upon her, Sadie forced her battered body to haul ass. She managed to put several yards between herself and her pursuer when she saw another shape lunge out from the shadows near the front porch.
Shit. The second intruder.
Without the least bit of hesitation, Sadie launched herself toward the fence. Grasping the top with bloody fingers, knowing that the rough wood was digging into her torn flesh but currently incapable of feeling the pain, she used every bit of adrenaline-fueled strength she had left to heave herself up and over. Her head and shoulders went first, her left leg closely following, and just when she thought she was home free an enormous hand grasped her right foot.
Howling, crying, feeling those beefy fingers biting into her flesh, Sadie kicked as best as she could manage from her awkward position hanging upside down. Another hand joined the first on her ankle, and she twisted maniacally like a human windsock. Managing to loosen the man’s grip with her crazy wriggling, given the fact that her skin was impossibly wet, Sadie watched in horror-filled fascination as her untied shoe slipped off in his hand.
She hit the ground with another bone-jarring thud, and started screaming Declan’s name.
From Obsession: Book Five in a Series
“Justin.” James’ tone was as neutral as the one Justin had just used on him. “I realize that you are a doctor and your first instinct is to rationalize a situation in terms of potential medical problems. But look at me.” He met Justin’s gaze with a level stare. “I did not make a pot of coffee. Now, normal people who are not trauma surgeons might ask the question: if my brother, who is the only other resident of the house, did not make a pot of coffee, then who did?”
“What are you talking about? Who would randomly, what, break in and brew a pot of coffee? And then leave? And besides, the door was locked.”
“Just like your truck was locked.”
The coffee he’d drunk swished uncomfortably when Justin’s stomach gave a little lurch. He stared at the mug in his hand as if it were a serpent about to strike.
He looked up and met his brother’s gaze. James looked far more serious than he’d ever seen him. “You might not want to drink any more of that.” He nodded toward the mug. “And Bro? Change the house locks, too. Because I think you have a problem.”