It's guest day, and we're happy to have C.B. Clark!
She was a Friday person in a Monday world. That’s how people described my mother. She
always smiled, was always happy, always fascinated by other people. I was with
her one time when she stopped a harried mother of three rambunctious toddlers on
the sidewalk and told the woman that the color of her blouse brought out the
blue in her eyes. When the woman realized mom was sincere, a smile broke over
her face, and she walked away with a strut in her step, her day a bit brighter.
Mom always
asked how you were doing, and she cared, really cared. Due to complications from
severe osteoporosis and life-long diabetes, she was in constant pain, but you’d
never know. She forced a smile and went out and talked to people and made them
feel better. Her philosophy was that no one really wanted to hear about your
aches and pains, so put on a happy face and get on with your life.
Years of
attending functions with dignitaries for my father’s work honed her social
skills and she was an excellent schmoozer. She met Queen Elizabeth, Prince
Philip, Prince Charles, a variety of Hollywood celebrities, and even Colonel
Sanders from KFC, when they visited our small town in the North, and she’d have
them feeling comfortable in minutes.
Mom was my
biggest supporter with my writing career. She was always eager to share news of
my latest book release with anyone she met. I’ll miss her, that’s a given, but
I’ll take her lessons to heart and try and follow her lead. With luck and
practice, I too will become a Friday gal in a Monday world. Love you, Mom.
Book
Blurb:
After five
years of hell with an abusive husband, Natasha Hartford vows never to trust
another man. Then she stumbles onto a murder scene and meets sexy, stubborn
Homicide Detective Chase Brandon, a take-no-prisoners tough guy who’ll settle
for nothing less than the truth. Sparks fly, but Chase’s suspicions and
Natasha’s innate distrust block the way to happiness.
The
detective struggles with his own troubled past and is determined to find the
truth behind the shadows dimming Natasha's eyes. As more murders occur and a
possible connection to her ex-husband appears, Chase fears her life is in
danger.
Natasha
and Chase race to find the killer before he strikes again. Their survival
depends on their willingness to overcome their mistrust of one another. Will
they overcome their fears and find love again?
Excerpt:
The
thick carpet muted the tapping of her high heels as she fled through the
reception area and down the hall to the elevators. In spite of her cowardly retreat,
she wanted to shout in triumph. She’d been terrified of angering the surly
detective, but she’d dragged up her courage and told him what she thought.
Blood buzzed through her veins, fueled by the adrenaline rush. Damn. It was good to have her old fire
back.
She
glanced down a short corridor on her left and stumbled to a stop. How had she
missed the ropes of yellow police tape blocking the entry to one of the rooms?
Her breath hitched in her throat. That must be where the grisly crime had
occurred.
The
shocking truth struck her like a blow—Jonas Waverley was dead. Murdered in cold
blood. She staggered and grabbed onto the wall.
“Ms.
Hartford, wait.”
She
glanced back.
Detective
Brandon strode along the corridor toward her, his long legs eating up the distance,
a determined expression on his face.
Her
earlier spurt of courage vanished, and she whirled and dashed toward the bank
of elevators. Chest heaving, heart pounding, she hit the button for the
elevator, jabbing it again and again.
“Look,
I’m sorry,” he said, catching up. “I was hard on you, but I’m just doing my
job. A man was murdered.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I have to examine
every possible lead, question every person of interest.”
She
shuddered and stabbed the down button again. Person of interest? Her? She was a
person of interest in a murder investigation?
“Can we
go somewhere and talk?”
She shot
him a look, making it clear what she thought of his suggestion.
He
lifted one shoulder. “Maybe we could grab a coffee? I have a few more questions
I’d like to ask.”
The
elevator pinged, and the doors opened with a hiss, revealing a middle-aged man
and an elderly woman who stared at them with vague interest.
Natasha
stumbled toward the elevator.
Detective
Brandon grabbed her arm, holding her back. “Ms. Hartford, wait.”
Warmth
from his large tanned hand seeped through the thin material of her raincoat and
raised goose bumps on her arm. “Let me go.” Her voice was shrill with rising
hysteria. She tugged, but he held on, his grip tightening.
Buy
Links:
The Wild
Rose Press:
Amazon:
iTunes:
Nook:
Kobo:
GoogleBooks:
Connect with C.B. Clark here:
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