A writer friend once said we never write our stories alone. This is a very true statement. From critiques to beta readers, to plot discussions, we have lots of help along the way to get those first words typed onto the page. Yes, there are those few who snub the rest of us, possibly because of our genre choices or maybe we’re just startng out whereas they’ve been around for a while, but overall, writers are the most supportive group there is. This doesn’t just consist of those others we know personally. I’ve had tons of help through those I’ve only met cybrally, through Facebook, Twitter, and chat groups. In person or not, I value each and every one.
I’m fortunate to have my own group-my girls-who I couldn’t do without. We’ve been getting together on a regular basis for a while. We come from different places, have diverse backgrounds, and our careers are spread across the map but we still have that common bond. We got together for a mini writers retreat last weekend.
So a great big thank you to all of my helpers out there. I couldn’t do it without you.
Don’t forget to check out my latest release, Echoes in the Wind, published from the Wild Rose Press.
Geology instructor Darla Hennessy’s dreams are shattered when her longtime boyfriend dumps her to marry someone else. On the rebound, she lets a friend drag her to a party where she meets former teen idol Eric Boyd, the Scottish rocker she had a crush on years ago.
Eric has one goal: return to the industry as a legitimate musician and earn the respect of his peers. But his manager is missing, someone is murdering his former band mates, and he might be next on the killer’s list. The last thing he needs is a relationship.
Despite their growing chemistry, Darla is wary of getting involved too. But when the killer attacks Eric, she can’t turn her back. On the run, they have to stay one step ahead of a madman even as their attraction heats up. It may be love, but can they survive long enough to find out?
Page Count: 286
Word Count: 72012
Darla could not lose control here. She needed to say something and leave. But the strange pattern on the fabric of her rescuer’s shirt grabbed her attention.
She tipped her head slightly and frowned. She stared harder, blinking several times. What th… A loud gasp escaped as she slapped a palm over her mouth. This night kept getting better. She lowered her hand and gaped at the pink tinge sprayed across the Raging Impulse lead guitarist’s chest.
“That’s not good.” He wiggled a finger over the scattered glass, apparently unperturbed she’d ruined his shirt. “What were you drinking? I’ll get you another.”
Darla stared, speechless. The inflections of his strong accent made him difficult to understand yet the mere sound of his voice caused her heart to almost stop. It was rich, deep, laced with enough of a rasp to carry a trace of seductiveness. The kind of voice that could convince a woman to do practically anything.
“What were you drinking?” he asked again. A long moment passed. Those disturbing cobalt eyes continued to study her. “Are you okay?”
Darla gulped. She was fine except her mind experienced a complete meltdown. Her heart beat in triple time, she couldn’t catch her breath, and she appeared to have lost the ability to speak.
“Wine,” she blurted. “White Zinfandel.” Surprised she’d almost found her wits, she paused and made an awkward gesture over the fresh stain on his shirt. “I don’t know what happened. Um, I got…you were there, it…” Her arm dropped, and she released a heavy sigh. “The glass slipped out of my hand.”
A slight curve formed across his lips as a wicked twinkle entered his eyes. “I noticed.”