Maybe you didn't hear me: A HERO'S SPARK IS NOW AVAILABLE!

nd Gentlemen:

The third and final book in my Wicked Women trilogy is complete and ready for public consumption.  That's right, "A Hero's Spark" is now available for sale in print or digital by CLICKING HERE!  If you prefer your books in print and you'd like to see your favorite indie author (who doesn't have to be me, but boy it'd be cool if it were) get a bigger cut from the result of the blood, sweat and tears that goes into writing a novel, then you can purchase any and all of my books by clicking HERE!

Yes, "A Hero's Spark," the story of musicians Collier James and Miranda "Mira" Pierce is ready for your reading approval.

I'm excited, as I always am, when I'm done with a book because it means I've accomplished something that no one can take away from me.  If I never hit the New York Times Best Selling List, (Okay, that would blow big time) I'd be okay, really as long as people read and enjoyed my stories.  Most authors feel that way.  Sure, we all have big dreams of book signings with lines that wind through the massive book store.  But the reality is we write because we have to. Most of us pour our hearts out and craft books carefully.  And we indie e-pubs also have to handle cover art, editing, rewrites, and marketing.  (I don't care for the marketing end of it.  I'd like you all to just run over to Amazon and Createspace and buy the books.)  We e-pubs have a heavy burden on our shoulders to get you the stories, and hopefully a couple dozen of you will purchase the books so we can be encouraged just enough to write another one.

But I'm here to talk about the book, the new book.  What, you may ask, is "A Hero's Spark" all about?

I'm glad you asked.  Here's a quick description: 

Rejected by the woman he loves and abandoned by his band, Collier James is broke and alone, a thousand mile from his home in Nashville. Collier turns to his uncle who sends him to Rock Harbor, Wisconsin where he hopes recording mogul Shara Brandt can help him find the spark to take his music career to the next level. 

Miranda Pierce cannot escape her sister Madelyn's control. To do so would mean losing all contact with her son, Dusty. She's also unable to escape constant contact with Madelyn's husband, the man who raped her at fifteen, but who is now powerful enough to destroy her if she reveals that he's the father of her son. Madelyn allows Mira to return to their childhood home in Rock Harbor, and Mira hopes to build a music career that will support both her and Dusty.

In the studio Mira and Collier must work together in spite of their mutual dislike. Mira's lack of discipline clashes with Collier's single minded drive and sparks fly. As a tour date in Nashville nears, Mira and Collier strike an uneasy truce. Working together, sparks of a different kind pass between them. 

No amount of musical success can keep the walls from closing in on Mira as Madelyn tries to cut her out of Dusty's life forever. Desperate, Mira risks everything, even her life, to prove herself and protect her son.

Collier's worried about Mira's erratic, desperate behavior. As she spirals out of control he realizes he will have to sacrifice everything to save her from whatever it is that threatens to consume her. In the process, Collier discovers that this sacrifice might just be the spark his life needs.

Many of you may recognize some of the character names.  Yep, "Spark"  draws on characters and locales from my previous two novels, "Fresh Ice" and "Lies in Chance."

Was it easier writing a book where I'd already built many of the characters and the sets?  No.  Just ask my critique partners, who had to slog through many, many, many different spellings of Shara Brandt's band...if I hadn't mentioned them in "Lies in Chance," I would simply have given the band a simpler name to type.  But, since I couldn't change a name just because I didn't want to have to type it the same way more than once, I had to hope my critique partners, Authors Linda Schmalz and Kelly Moran, and my editor, the sublime Susie Harkeness Kline caught the mistakes.



SPOILER ALERT!
(But NOT for "A Hero's Spark")






Writing a book that ties two previous books together was not something I'd planned on doing until a number of people demanded that Collier James, the poor gent Izzy Marks passes over in "Fresh Ice," get his own book. That's when I realized Collier had the same last name as Archibald James, the lawyer who pretty much saves the day in "Lies in Chance."  (Oh, spoiler alert...those books have been out for over a year.  If you haven't read them, maybe you need to catch up on your reading!)

As it turned out, Collier had a lot to do for himself.  And Miranda Pierce, well, she might be the character most like me that I've ever dared to write.

This book goes to a far darker place than any of my previous work ever has.  Blame it on the past year.  As I was writing this book my family spiraled deeper and deeper into a very dark place.  Thankfully, each day now is a little better and I think the book reflects a determined optimism.

Friends, no artist works for simple cash.  If I did this for the cash, I'd have stopped years ago when "Dream in Color" failed to make me independently wealthy. Cash is great, don't get me wrong.  Buy my books!  I need to make some money doing this!  But I'm an artist, and I have stories to tell and characters you need to meet.

Since 2009 when I sold "Dream in Color" to The Wild Rose Press I've been blessed to publish four novels, two humor books  (Under Sarah Jayne Brewster) and a novella.  I've written countless blog posts and I've met so many fantastic people along the way.

I'm not stopping.  What's next?  Next I'm going to introduce you to Nora Hill, a young woman who needs to find lost children.

But for now, all you need to know is to CLICK HERE or CLICK HERE to purchase A Hero's Spark...my newest story.

Sneak Peak Sunday: A HERO'S SPARK!

Good evening!

Well it's done...at least the cover art is.  And I've managed to settle on a title.  So, ladies and gents, take a look at the cover for my upcoming novel:  A HERO'S SPARK

This is the final book in my Wicked Women series.  The other two, Lies in Chance and Fresh Ice don't tie to each other, but both books are tied together in A Hero's Spark.  So my advice, before this is released in early May, would be to read the other two books.  You don't have to, to understand this one, but really, why wouldn't you want to?

Meanwhile, here's a tidbit from Spark to whet your appetite:

COLLIER

          What woke him, Collier didn’t know, but even still in the haze of deep sleep, he knew he wasn’t alone in the loft. Someone latched the door quietly and stepped closer to the bed before turning on the overhead light.

          “Who’s there?” he called out as the light flashed on, momentarily blinding him. A woman’s scream pierced through the shock of light and he squinted in her general direction. He recognized the black hair immediately. “What are you doing here?”

          “I could ask you the same thing.” She held her bulky shoulder bag in front of her like a shield. “Who are you?”

          Collier shifted to sit up. She froze. “Don’t move.  I’ve got mace in here.”

          “Calm down. I’m not going to move, since I’m pretty much naked here.” Collier grinned at her. “But you don’t have mace in there.”

          The angry light in her eyes quavered, giving way to uncertainty. “How would you know what I have in my bag?”

          “Well,” he kept his voice calm, sensing she was more afraid than dangerous, “because if you had mace in there, you would have started spraying it the minute you realized there was a man in the room. That’s what I hear from most women, anyway.”

          She blinked away the uncertainty, her face settled into a mask of defensiveness. “Oh, and you know most women, do you?”

          “No, Miss, I don’t. But I’m pretty sure most women wouldn’t ask any questions before mentioning they have mace. So relax, put the bag down and tell me what you’re doing here.”

          “Shara lets me stay here sometimes, when I need to.”

          “Sound mysterious. And also like a complete lie.”

          “Yeah, well, I’ve lived here almost my whole life, and you’re a stranger.  That’s enough mysterious for me to call the cops. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.”

          “My uncle said I could stay here and Molly Hunter brought me here.”

          She seemed less likely to want to kill him, but her countenance remained stony. “Who’s your uncle?”

          “Archibald James.”

          “The lawyer?”

          “The same.”

          She relaxed. “Okay, maybe you’re not a mass rapist.” She sat in the rocker. “But still, you can’t stay here.”

          “Why not?”

          “Because, I’m staying here.”

Collier chuckled. “I was here first. And, I’m not wearing pants.”

          “I’ll close my eyes. Get dressed, and get out.” Her tone was clipped, cold.  Collier again sensed she was covering fear.

          “Why should I get out? I got here first. I was sound asleep, and you woke me up.” He gave her a small smile, hoping to soften the deep furrows in her brow.

          She shrugged. “Not my problem. You can’t stay here.”

          “It is your problem. I’m not leaving.” He grinned. “We could both stay here. It’s a big enough bed.” He patted the spot next to him.

          She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Of course that’s what you want.” Her eyes flashed hot and angry.

          “It’s not what I want, Ma’am. I want to go to sleep. But if you have other ideas, well, I am from the South.  We believe in accommodating women whenever we can.”

          She stared at him, and Collier doubted his humor was warming her attitude toward him. Clearly, some sort of battle waged behind her emerald eyes.

Her face slacked into exhaustion.  “Look. I need to stay here. Alone.”

          Collier’s curiosity made him push the point further. “Well, I’m from out of town and have no place else to go. From what I hear, Miranda Peirce, you live in Rock Harbor which means you do have someplace else to go.”   

          “Don’t call me that.”

          “Isn’t it your name?”

“Call me Mira.” A shadow crossed her face. “I’m not going to that house tonight. You can’t make me.” her voice held the echoes of a willful child. “And how do you know my name…oh, wait…”

          “Molly Hunter.”

          Mira nodded. “She knows everyone and everything thing in this town. Steer clear of her if you want to keep anything private.”

          “She didn’t strike me as a person who spread gossip.”

          “She doesn’t.  She just knows everything.  The potential is always there.”

          An interesting read on the lovely Miss Molly.  “So the two of you aren’t grand friends then?”

          She leaned back in the rocker. “I try not to make attachments. It’s easier to leave if there aren’t any attachments.”

          “Sounds like someone who wants to run away.”

          “I’ve always wanted to run away. I feel like I’m running away from something every day of my life.”

          Collier wanted to be annoyed by her cryptic statement, but he sensed it was probably the one completely truthful thing she’d said. Collier studied her, trying to assess her age. “You’re what, thirty? You’re old enough to go out on your own. What’s stopping you?”

          “I’m twenty-eight, thank you.”

          “Oh that’s a huge difference.” Collier nearly laughed out loud at the wounded expression on Mira’s face.

          “I can’t leave because it’s complicated. But I can’t go home tonight.”

          The glimmer of true fear returned in her eyes. Collier relented. “Fine. Just go…go in the bathroom for a minute, let me get my crap together and I’ll go sleep on the hay downstairs.”

          “You sure you’re okay?” She suddenly sounded younger, almost childlike.

          “Oh now that you’ve won the bed, you want to know what my opinion is?”

          The softness melted from her face and her jaw line hardened. “Not really. I couldn’t care less where you sleep tonight, so long as it’s not in here.”

          “Suits me fine. I’d rather sleep with horses than up here with you. Less shit to deal with.”

          “Oh very nice. They teach you that language in the south where men are supposed to be so mannerly?” She glared at him as she stomped into the small bathroom and slammed the door.

          “No!” Collier yelled as he pulled on his jeans. “I learned manners just fine, because where I come from the women aren’t complete bitches!” He stuffed a few things into his duffle bag and slammed the door behind him, startling the horses in the stalls below.

          There was a blanket hanging from a hook near a stack of hay bales. Collier spread the blanket over the bales and stretched out on the hay, thankful his years on the road in the Renaissance Faire circuit had toughened him. Staring at the ceiling, he watched the light that glowed from between small cracks in the loft floor. When the light switched off, he closed his eyes. Still, she is pretty.

          Pretty bitchy.

MIRA

         

          Mira waited for Collier to settle downstairs.  Within a few minutes, everything was still and quiet. She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off her boots, letting them drop to the wooden floor with a loud thud.  Collier’s muttered curse made her smile.  She wasn’t sure why annoying him gave her pleasure.

          She stretched out on the bed, still warm with his body heat.  She pushed her face into the pillow and inhaled his scent.  It wasn’t unpleasant.

          Closing her eyes, Mira saw him again, sitting in the bed, shirtless, the sheet and blanket pooled at his waist.

          Also not unpleasant.

          She shook her head.  Now is not the time to be thinking about a guy. No matter how good he might smell.

          She picked up her boot and tossed it in the air, giving it more velocity so that when it hit the wooden floor it sounded like a thunder clap.  The sound of the horses below whinnying and rustling in their stalls didn’t cover Collier’s curses, this time spoken at volume she knew was meant to reach her ears.

          Mira smiled, closed her eyes, and went to sleep.

Sneak Peak Sunday: Spark of a Hero

Good morning friends!

I've been slaving away at cover art and the first round of serious edits this weekend and I thought I've give you another little peak at the new novel.  This has been a challenge for me because I'm using characters from both Lies in Chance AND Fresh Ice to create a new romance.  It's been a challenge, but I'm also really, really excited about it!

To the left here is one of the rough ideas I'm working on for a cover. You can vote for which cover you want by reading my last post on this blog and voting here or by going over to my Face Book page and voting.

Meanwhile, ENJOY!

The rain north of Green Bay fell mercilessly. By the time Collier reached the city limits of Rock Harbor, he was exhausted and unable to find the county highway address Archibald gave him. Collier eased the Mercedes into a muddy parking lot outside a bar called "Dirty Dog Dave's." He parked as close to the door of the hulking building as he could, and ran inside.

The inside of Dirty Dog Dave's was cavernous. The place seemed deserted, though the lights were on. Collier took a seat at the bar and tapped his fingers. "Hello?"

The only answer to his single word was the click of a hand gun safety releasing. Collier stopped tapping his fingers, his blood frozen.

"Put yer hands on the bar where Ah ken see them."

Collier squinted to the darkened end of the room, searching for the face to match the low, guttural voice and the completely fake Southern accent. He splayed his hands out on the dented bar, trying hard not to recoil at the sticky feel of the scarred wooden surface. "I'm not here to cause trouble. I just need directions."

"Ah'll just bet y'all do."

In spite of the clear danger he was in, Collier struggled not to smile. The hidden man's accent was simply too funny. "No, really. I'm trying to find Shara Jacobs' place."

As if his words were some sort of incendiary device, the man with the gun leaped from around the corner, and grabbed Collier by the collar. The man was enormous, and holding an even more impressive handgun. "Just whut would y'all be wantin' with Miss Shara?"

"Oh for the love of all that's holy, Dave, put that man down!"

Collier held his breath as Dave's grip on his collar tightened. He heard woman's quick foots steps behind him and in a beat a tall, beautiful woman the color of a perfect cup of mocha stood next to him.

"Chanel, now this doesn't concern y'all."

"It does when you're pointing a gun at a customer. Put that thing away and give the man dinner or something."

Dave didn't loosen his grip on Collier. "Chanel, this man is driving Mr. James' Mercedes. But look at him, he's no driver for Mr. James. So either he stole the car...or he stole the car. Plus, he's lookin' fer Miss Shara."

Chanel turned her focus to Collier. "Did you steal Mr. James' car?"

"No." Collier tried to swallow, but Dave's enormous knuckle was in the way. "No, I'm his nephew."

"Ah don't buy it."

"You don't buy anything." Chanel frowned at Dave. "Look, Mister. Dave here just got his concealed carry permit and he's itching to use that beastly thing. If I were you, I'd say something a bit more convincing."

"My uncle, Archibald James, sent me here. I'm a..." Collier struggled for air.

"Oh for heaven's sakes, Dave, put him down and let him talk."

Reluctantly, Dave let go of Collier, sending him back to the bar stool with a thump. "Now talk...and Ah'd best lahke whut you say."

"I'm a musician. I'm a singer, and my uncle thought I should work with Shara Jacobs. Said she's a client of his. He's letting me use his car because mine is back home."

"Where's thet?"

Collier cleared his throat and turned a baleful eye on Dave. "Nashville. Tennessee. Where people have real accents."

Chanel burst out laughing. "Dave, you have to give this man free burgers for life or he may just blow your cover!"

Collier allowed himself a weak smile. "I don't want to blow anyone's cover or anything. I just...I'm looking for this address." He held up the piece of paper. "I can't find it in the rain."

"Of course you can't, Sugar." Chanel strolled behind the bar and filled a glass with beer. "Here you go." She slid the glass to Collier.

"Now just a minute! Since when do we give free beer to strangers?"

“Oh, about the same time we started pulling guns on people who show up looking for directions.”  Chanel grinned at Collier. "Dave, you say one more word to this boy and I'm going to let him tell everyone that you've never been further south than Kenosha." Chanel turned back to Collier, her voice easing back to a warm tone reminiscent of thick hot cocoa. "Now, go ahead and finish what you were saying."

Collier took a swallow of beer, the amber liquid warming him. "I'm a sort of traveling musician, but my band...broke up. So my uncle sent me here to do some recording work with Shara Jacobs. He said I could stay at their place."

"Probably means the loft."

Collier didn't miss the softening of Dave's features. "You know Miss Shara?"

Dave chuckled. "Know her? I discovered her."

Chanel clicked her tongue against her teeth. "You did not discover her, Dave. She had to beg you for months to let 'Teachers' Pets' play here, and you know it. Now, what's your name honey?"

"Collier. Collier James."

"Okay, Collier James, I'm about to open this place up for the evening, but I promise you, if you don't mind sitting here a bit and having the best burger you're ever going to eat, I'll see to it that someone gets you out to the Jacobs' place tonight." Chanel patted him on the shoulder.

“We’re giving him food, too?  What, you’re trying to bankrupt me?”

“No, Dave,” Chanel rounded the bar and stood in the kitchen doorway, “I’m trying to keep him from suing us.”

Collier was amused by the couple. His initial fear of Dave melted. The smell of grilled meat emanating from the kitchen made Collier's stomach growl. "Ok, I guess I wouldn't mind a burger at all.”

*

Time in Dave’s, Collier realized, was a relative thing. It seemed like hours before the first customer crossed the dank threshold and yet when he looked at his watch at the height of late night revelry, Collier was astonished to see that several hours had passed.  Dirty Dog Dave’s transformed from a dark cave to the epicenter of sound and music and joy. It reminded him of Second Chance’s in Nashville, and Collier felt a rare pang of homesickness.

          “Collier James, I’d like you to meet a good friend of mine,” Chanel took a break from waiting tables to talk to him. Next to Chanel stood a beautiful, older woman, the kind of woman, Collier sense, got more attractive as she aged. Though she was, Collier assessed, probably in her fifties, she retained a youthful glow and smoothness of features most would envy. “This is Molly Hunter.”

          “Miz Hunter, pleased to make your acquaintance,” Collier extended his hand.

          “Shara told me to expect you.” Molly shook his hand with a firm grip, “Pleased to meet you. Chanel tells me your Mr. James’ nephew?”

          “Yes Ma’am.”

          Molly smiled. “I see you have his wonderful manners too.”

          “Molly here is a good friend of Shara Brandt’s. I told her you needed some help finding the place.”

          Collier nodded his thanks to Chanel, who faded back to the welling throng of people.

          “So what does Mr. James want you to do with Shara and Bryan?”

          Collier shrugged. “I’m a musician. I guess he thinks I should work with Shara.”

          Molly nodded. “He’s a wise man. Come on, I’ll lead you up there.”

          “You’re sure it’s okay?”

          “Absolutely. If Mr. James sent you, you have every right to stay there.”

          Collier pushed his glass away and turned to leave the bar when the singer on stage caught his eye. She was striking with long raven colored hair that flowed to the middle of her back. As she settled herself onto the stool and shifted her guitar to a comfortable place on her lap, Collier could not help feeling he’d seen her before.

          “Who is that?”

          Molly glanced over her shoulder. “You’ve got an eye for beauty. That’s Miranda Peirce. Sometimes she’s goes by the stage name, ‘Mira Star.’”

          “Is it wrong that I think that sounds like a stripper name?” Collier laughed. “Guess I’ve been doing it wrong all these years, going under my given name.”

          “Some say she’s explaining away that huge star tattoo on her upper arm.” Molly shrugged. “I think it’s more to put distance between herself and her sister.”

          “Why’s that?”

          “Oh they haven’t liked each since Miranda was little. The older sister is married to a state senator, very prim and proper and serious. Miranda’s much younger, and she’s always been a bit of a free spirit.”

          “She’s got a decent voice.” Collier studied her with a critical eye. “And she’s pretty.”

          “She is. I liked her better before, though.”

          “Why’s that?”

          Molly opened the door and stepped into the rain soaked night. “I think she looked better with her natural hair color.  It was a really pretty sandy brown. She dyed it black recently. The dark hair makes her look older.  Although, now that I think about it, it does bring out the green in her eyes.”

          Collier glanced over his shoulder and trying to picture the woman on stage with blonde hair, and realized why she seemed familiar. She’s the woman from the Renaissance Faire. No hair color change could hide eyes that green.

          Molly was already to her car, starting the engine. Not wanting to be lost again, Collier let the door close and headed for his uncle’s Mercedes.

Cover art...I need your help!

Good afternoon!

I'm NOT what one would call an excellent cover artist. But I do enjoy the process and, with much trial and error, I've been able to create a couple fairly decent covers for some of my books.

Now, with Spark of a Hero's release announcement just around the corner, I need to do come cover art.

I also need to decide what the title is actually going to be.

Friends, I need your help BIG TIME!

I need you to vote on the art and the title.  Now, please forgive me, the pictures are rough and they do have the watermarks of the stock photo websites where I got them.  (Thank you, Dreamstime and Shutterstock!  I'm a faithful customer!!  But if you look at the two covers I've cobbled together today, as well as the titles, I'd like some feedback.  Which direction gives you a more favorable response?

COVER/TITLE  A

COVER/TITLE B

Now, in order to vote, either leave a comment here on the blog or hop on over to my FACE BOOK PAGE and leave a comment on there.  All you have to do is say "cover A"  or "Cover B" and "Title A" or "Title B"

I am definitely on the fence with both of these, and I know cover B is not as large, so it's not as easy to make out.  But there's a lot going on in both pictures.

And yes, I am leaning one way...slightly.

Readers, I depend on you for help!

And OF COURSE, everyone who votes will be entered into a drawing for a FREE COPY of the new book when it comes out!

Sneak Peak Sunday: Spark of a Hero

Good evening all!

It's been a marathon writing weekend, I have to say, and I'm within a couple pages of finishing the first draft of my newest WIP, "Spark of a Hero."

I thought I'd share a bit with you, to inspire you to read the other two books in my Wicked Women Series,  Lies in Chance and Fresh Ice.  (Click on the book covers to check them out at Amazon). While you don't NEED to read those two books for this one to make sense...hey, it wouldn't hurt.

Anyway, enjoy!

MIRA

Mira pulled into Dave’s parking lot, her speed lower, but her rage still heating her body. She slammed her car door, the feel of the force calming her a little. By the time she was inside, much of her anger had cooled. “Hey Chanel.”

          “Hey there, Mira. You’re not…you’re not waiting table tonight are you?”

          Mira wanted to laugh out loud at the concerned expression on her friend’s face. “No, I’m not. And you don’t have to pussy foot around it, Chanel. I know Dave’s pissed at me for my last performance. Hell, everyone around here is pissed at me for one thing or another.”

          “You’re just in a rough spot, that’s all, girl.”

          “I know. I know. But I’ve got something. I think I really have something, I just need to work on it. I was hoping I could use the backstage piano?”

          Chanel looked around and shrugged. “It’s quiet tonight. Go ahead. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

          “Dave won’t mind?”

          Chanel grinned. “If he is, I’ll take care of him, don’t you worry. You just go write something brilliant so you can get back on track.”

          Mira grinned. “Thanks Chanel. I knew I could count on you!”

          She wasted no time heading to the dark back stage area where a battered old piano was parked in directly beneath the lone light bulb in the space. She opened the cover and sat on the bench. She set her music folder on the music rack, and pulled out the sheets she’d covered with notes and lyrics. Taking a deep breath, she touched the scarred keys lightly, listening to the echo in the wide room. Softly, almost in a whisper, she sang as she played, stopping only to write a note here or there on the music.

          Time stopped while she was working. She knew, with each note she played, this was a good song. She liked the overall feeling, but today, after her encounter with Madelyn, a second, darker verse popped into her head and she really liked how the lyrics paired with the music. It was definitely a song to be proud of, and it was all hers.

          She stopped playing for a moment and wrote a few more notes on the music. She sensed, as she wrote, someone behind her. Looking over her shoulder, squinting at the shadows, she saw him. “You. Can’t you ever not be where I am?”

          Collier stepped into the dim ring of light. “Sorry. I was in the back, putting away dishes and I heard you playing.”

          “Yeah, well, you can go back to putting away dishes. I’ve got work to do.”

          “You’ve got a good song there.”

          “Not that I need your opinion.”

          “I’m just sayin’. It’s good.”

          She hated that his approval gave her a sense of calm. “Whatever. I’m playing it for Shara tomorrow.”

          “Oh, well, that’s good, right?”

          She grit her teeth. “Yes, Ren Faire Boy. It’s great. It’s freakin’ awesome that she was able to take some time out of her busy day of praising you to listen to what I have to offer. It’s super amazing that I have to beg and scrape for time now that you’re the golden boy at the studio.”

          “Hey, look. I’m not the one who can’t play when the tiniest distraction shows up. I’m not the one who had a freak out on stage the other night.”

          “No, but you always seem to be right there when I screw up.”

          “Why is that, I wonder. Are you threatened by me?”

          She didn’t miss the glimmer of humor in his steel gray eyes. “I’m not threatened by you. And I have more talent in my left hand than you’ll ever have in your entire life.”

          “That might be true. But talent isn’t always going to be the thing that gets you what you want in your career.”

          She wanted to punch him in the throat. Her right hand balled into a fist. “No, what gets you where you want to be in your career is being the spoiled nephew of Shara’s lawyer.”

          “That has nothing to do with it.”

          “The hell it doesn’t. If it weren’t for your uncle, you’d be begging your guys from your pirate band to take you back.”

          His expression registered a minimal amount of surprise and just a touch of hurt. “So that story’s gotten around I see.”

          “It doesn’t take much in this town. But don’t try to deny it. If you weren’t a relative, there’s no way you’d find your way up here.”

          “You don’t have to be bitter.”      

          “Oh you’re right. I don’t have anything to be bitter about. No, I’ve lived in this town forever and I’ve worked my butt off to get a chance at working with Shara and then you swoop in, you second rate cover singer, and you get my spot.”

          “I might be a second rate cover singer, but you’re an unstable mental case. And that is always going to get in the way of your talent.”

          She hated how calm he was. She hated how little her barbs seemed to affect him. Mostly, she hated how much he was probably right. “Get the hell out of here Collier James. I have work to do.”

          “Fine. I’m going. I’m going. I just wanted you to know…that’s a good song you’ve got there.”

This Sneak Peak Sunday brought to you by
a coffee fueled weekend!

          As he left, she shook her head, trying to dislodge any sense of pleasure she got from his compliment.

         

COLLIER

         
          The next morning, Collier got up and helped Bryan with the chores. He liked the way physical labor made him feel, like he’d actually accomplished something once the task was done.  He appreciated that Bryan didn’t feel the need to fill every moment with talk. They could work together, cleaning stalls, moving hay bales, filling the water tank, without much chatter.  It was calming for Collier who’d spent so long trying to make as much noise as possible to shut out thoughts of Izzy.  Now, in the morning stillness of the barn, he realized he hadn’t thought about her in a couple days.

          After chores, Collier shared a companionable pot of coffee with Bryan and headed to the studio to work. As he got close to the building, he didn’t have to open the door of the studio to hear the argument raging inside. He stepped into the building with caution, surprised to hear Shara Jacobs’ voice involved in anything quite so heated.

          What didn’t surprise him was Mira, once again voicing an opinion opposite Shara’s and the other members of Teachers’ Pets. Collier eased open the booth door and sat in the shadows, his curiosity rising by the second.

          “I’m not doing a duet!” Mira stood in front of them all, her back turned to the booth window, her fists balled at her sides. “This is a song I wrote and I want to sing it. Alone.”

          “Well that’s just fine because the one thing Teacher’s Pets doesn’t do is country.” Jake did nothing to hide his acrimony, his arms crossed and his eyes blazing.

          “It’s not a country song.”

          “Really? Because all I hear is twang, twang, twang.”

          Mira was about to retort something when Shara put her hand up. “Enough. Mira, this is a good, solid song. But I’m with Kelly and Jake on this one. This is definitely a duet, and I’d like to package it as such.”

          Collier watched as the room settled into an unsteady truce.

          “That said, it does skew a bit country and Jake’s right, Teachers’ Pet is definitely not a country band.”

          “Told you!”

          Collier stifled a laugh. Jake looked like a four year old, and Collier knew Mira was struggling to keep from sticking her tongue at him.

          “Although there was a time when this band didn’t allow ‘chicks’ in either, if I recall correctly.” Shara shot a glare at Jake, who settled down immediately. “Guys, I think it would be really appropriate for us to at least think about performing this song when we do the holiday tour. We’ll be in the heart of country music and wouldn’t it be nice to stretch our fan base just a little bit?”

          “Shara, okay, fine. But it’s a duet, like you said. So who do we get to sing it? I’m no country singer.  Kelly’s no country singer.  And Tony and Dave,” Jake grinned, “They’re not singers at all.”

          There was a general shout of protest from the guys in the band. Collier could see Mira’s confidence crumbling little by little. For all the fight and snarling she had in her, Collier realized her music might be the one thing Mira had that wasn’t protected by her thorny outer shell. It was the one place where she was completely honest. 

          “I’ll do it.”

          Everyone turned to squint at the glass. Collier whipped his finger off the speaker button, shocked as anyone that he’d spoken.

          “You haven’t even heard the song. You might not like it.”

          Collier stepped into the studio and ignored Mira’s icy glare. “I heard part of it last night, Tony, and I liked it. Besides, if Miss Shara says it’s good enough, it’s good enough. If you guys aren’t sure about it, I’ve got a connection in Nashville where she and I,” he nodded at the still fuming Mira, “could try it out on stage. I know a few musicians there who could back us up, so you wouldn’t have to do anything but listen. You guys can gauge the crowd reaction. That way we can perform far, far away from Teachers’ Pets, but we can still sort of do some promotion for you guys. It’s a win all the way around, if you think about it.” He grit his teeth, hoping they bought the idea because he doubted he could suggest performing at Second Chances’ again. There were too many memories in that old place.

          “I like the idea, but I think you two should work on this a bit before you sign anything. Starting now. Guys?” Shara held open the studio door for the others to leave.

          Alone in the studio, Collier sat at the piano and looked at Mira, who hadn’t moved a muscle in the time he’d been there. “So let’s hear it from the top.”

          “Like I really want to share this song with you.”

          Collier shrugged and got up. “Suit yourself. I’ve got my own stuff to work on. Teachers’ Pets want me to come with them for the holiday tour as the opening act.” He put his hand on the doorknob.

          “You really got a connection in Nashville? A good one, not some dive?”

          Collier grinned and turned around. “Well, ‘Second Chance’s’ is a dive, but it’s a great place to work out new material. Mostly a college crowd, but very music savvy. I used to try out new material there all the time. The food is sort of horrible, but the wine list is decent.”

          He looked at her closely. There was definitely something different about her.

          Mira ran a hand through her hair. Collier frowned. She looked ghostly and thin.  He hadn’t noticed it last night, but she’d lost some weight recently. “Hey, are you okay?”

          “I’ll be fine.” Mira sat down and shook her head. “When I’m writing, I forget to eat, that’s all.”

          Collier wasn’t quite convinced, but he wasn’t going to push. “Okay, so show me what you’ve got and let’s see if we can’t put a little country into Teacher’s Pet. Then I’ll get you a burger over at Dave’s.”

          Mira nodded and handed him some sheet music. “It’s a song about not getting anything handed to you. How some people have to work for everything they get while others just get everything.” She bit her lip, then gave him a defiant look, daring him to cut down the song.

          Collier read the lyrics and was instantly hooked. “I can definitely get behind this one. Let’s get to work.”

2013-2014: Looking backward and forward

Good evening!

Here we are, in the edge of yet another year.  World wide, good stuff happened, bad stuff happened and for the next several months, Hollywood is going to go crazy congratulating itself for all the work it's done in 2013.  (Ups and downs..."The Blacklist" is awesome.  "The Butler" is spectacular.  But did we need yet another Madea movie?  And "Fast and Furious 6"?  Really?)

In the spirit of the ending year I thought I'd look back and review my  year in writing, and then lay out my plan...a resolution if you will, for 2014.

2013 was wildly busy for me.  I got my rights back for "Dream in Color" and spent way too much time creating new covers for it.  I tried my hand at cover making for my books and for my friend, Author Linda Schmalz. 

I wrote and published my first short story:  Love is Elementary, which is actually going to be part of a bigger collection of short stories.  I'm so excited about writing shorter fiction.

I released my two Elsie W books, the first on in June, and the most recent one this past month.  (You can find everything at Amazon or on Smashwords. Just look for Sarah J. Bradley or Sarah Jayne Brewster.

November was awesome.  I took part in Nanowrimo and completed the 50000 word challenge.  As a result, my new novel, "Spark of a Hero" is well on its way to having a rough draft done. This is the book that will tie "Lies in Chance" and "fresh Ice" together so I'm excited about that.

So, after all that, what's up next for my writing life?  Well, quite a bit.  Which is funny, since when I was 13 and I started writing "Lies in Chance" I thought I had one story in me.  Turns out, I had a whole bunch of stuff going on in my head and I can't wait to get to work on it!

First of all, I have to finish "Spark of a Hero."  My goal is Valentine's Day, but let's be real...that's probably not going to happen quite that fast.

I have one more book in the Disaster Coworkers series...yes, Noelle C is getting a book.  I just have to buckle down and write it.

I've got three more short stories to go with "Love is Elementary" so there's that.

Finally, I'm and I really excited about this:  I'm going to create my third and probably final pseudonym.  S.J. Brady is going to be my name when I start my inspirational/mystery series.  I have a weak outline for the first book, but what's really exciting about this series is that it's a true series.  Nora Hill is going to be my new best friend as we wind up 2014 and get into 2015.

That's a ton of writing...but I figured something out this year.  I can sit down, I can write, I can produce even in the limited time I have to work between work, the kids, the husband, the house, and oh yeah, the cats.  I may not achieve all my goals in 2014, but I promise you this:  I'm going to keep you posted every step of the way, and I really hope I get feedback from you, because you are the ones reading my stories!

Sneak Peak Saturday: SPARK OF A HERO

Good evening!

It's been a couple weeks since I touched base here, since it's NANOWRIMO and I'm working like crazy to finish the first draft of my newest Novel, Spark of a Hero.

I'm excited about this novel because in it I'm doing something I've never done before:  I'm taking characters from previous novels and putting them in a whole new story.  In this case, I'm taking Collier James, who was my "best friend" from Fresh Ice and putting him into Rock Harbor, the world I created in Lies In Chance.  It's been fun going back and giving my old characters new life and creating new characters along the way.

So tonight, since it's my birthday, I thought I'd share something with you all:  A chapter from the new novel.  This is an early scene where Collier, our hero, has his first real contact with Mel, our heroine.  The scene, for those of you familiar with "Lies in Chance" takes place in the loft Bryan built for Shara.

Enjoy!

          Collier followed Molly’s car closely on the shiny, rain slick roads.  They drove through what felt like endless miles of dark farmland until Molly turned up a narrow drive.  Collier pulled the Mercedes into the round yard next to her car.  On one side of him was a small cabin.  In front of him was a garage and to his left was a small barn where, he surmised, would be the loft.  He got out of his car and tried to avoid the muddy puddles as he followed Molly to the barn.

          She slid open the barn door.  The soft whicker of horses greeted them.  “Shhh, Pepper, Shhh girls.”  Molly patted the horses in each of the four stalls.  “You’ll be up those stairs in the loft.  It’s really more of a small apartment.  There’s a bathroom.  It’s not glamorous, but it’ll suit I’m sure.  Light switch for the barn is at the top of the stairs.  I’ll close this door.”

          “Thank you, Miz Hunter.”

          Molly waved a dismissive hand.  “I know you’re southern, but plain old Molly is good enough for me. “

          “Okay, Molly it is.  So when will the Jacobs’ be home?”

          “Oh they’ll be back later tonight.  They’re just over at the Shepaski house for dinner. I think Shara said something about a Scrabble game .”

          Collier raised an eyebrow.  “Not exactly big recording mogul stuff.”

          “No, But Shara isn’t a typical big recording mogul.  She and Bryan could have both been big shots with huge fortunes.  They both turned it down, and it’s a good thing, too.”

          “How would turning down a fortune be a good thing?”

          Molly smiled and leaned against a stall door.  “They would never have met each other if either of them had stayed in their family’s business.”

          “My uncle said they had a romance for the ages.”

          “He wasn’t wrong.  And they have two precious children to show for it.  You’ll meet them soon enough”

          “I’m not sure I’m up for a happy romantic couple,” Collier kicked a bit of sawdust. 

          “Sounds like you’ve got secrets of your own.”

          “Not secrets.  Just stuff I don’t want to talk about.”

          “Well good luck trying to keep anything quiet around here,” Molly stepped out of the barn and pushed the rolling door halfway.  “You’ll find most folks have some sort of secret they want to keep hidden, but everyone knows it because,” she smiled, “you can’t keep a secret in a town this small. The winters are long and cable TV service is uneven at best.  We’ve got nothing else to do.”

          She closed the rolling barn door and Collier headed up the stairs.  He snapped  off the barn light and turned on the loft light.  The room was small, yet about as cozy as any he’d ever seen.  He set his duffle bag next to the bentwood rocker and flopped onto the firm mattress that took up most of the floor space.   He opened the double hung window and gazed down at the cabin.  In the distance he made out the shape of another building, a farmhouse.  Recalling the conversation with Uncle Archibald, Collier surmised that was the recording studio, formerly a burned out shell of a farmhouse Bryan had converted to a studio as a wedding gift.

          Another perfect romance, another perfect hero for his woman, and I’m stuck in the middle of it all again. 

          Collier closed his eyes and tried not to picture Izzy.

          What woke him, Collier didn’t know, but even still in the haze of deep sleep, he knew he wasn’t alone in the loft.  Someone latched the door quietly and stepped closer to the bed before turning on the overhead light.

          “Who’s there?” he called out as the light flashed on, momentarily blinding him.  A woman’s scream pierced through the shock of light and he squinted in her general direction.  He recognized her instantly.  “What are you doing here?”

          “I could ask you the same thing.”  She held her bulky shoulder bag in front of her. “Who are you ?”

          Collier shifted to sit up.  She froze.  “Don’t move, I’ve got mace in here.”

          “I’m not going to move, since I’m pretty much naked here.” Collier grinned at her.  “But you don’t have mace in there.”

          “How would you know what I have in my bag?”

          “Well, because if you had mace in there, you would have started spraying it the minute you realized there was a man in the room.  That, at least, is what I hear from most women.”

          “Oh, and you know most women, do you?”

          “No, but I’m pretty sure most women wouldn’t ask any questions before mentioning they have mace.  So relax, put the bag down and tell me what you’re doing here.”

          “Shara lets me stay here sometimes, when I need to.”

          “Sound mysterious…and shady.”

          “Yeah, well, you’re a stranger around here, and that’s enough mysterious for me to call the cops.  Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.”

          “My uncle said I could stay here and Molly Hunter brought me here.”

          This visibly calmed the woman, although her countenance remained stoney.  “Who’s your uncle?”

          “Archibald James.”

          “The lawyer?”

          “The same.”

          She relaxed further.  “Fine. “  She sat in the rocker.  “But still, you can’t stay here.”

          “Why not?”

          “Because I’m staying here.”

          Collier chuckled.  “I was here first.  And, I’m not wearing pants.”

          “I’ll close my eyes, you get dressed, and get out.”

          “Why should I get out?  I got here first.  I was sound asleep, and you woke me up.”

          She shrugged.  “Not my problem. You can’t stay here.”

          “It is your problem, I’m not leaving.”  He grinned.  “We could both stay here.  It’s a big enough bed.”  He patted the spot next to him.

          She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.  “Typical man.  Look.  I need to stay here.  Alone.”

          “Well, I’m from out of town and have no place else to go.  From what I hear, Pamela Prier, you live in Rock Harbor which means you have a perfectly good someplace else to go.”

“Call me Mel.” A shadow crossed her face.  “I can’t go there tonight.  You can’t make me. And how do you know my name…oh, wait…”

          “Molly Hunter.”

          “Of course.” Mel nodded.  “She knows everyone and everything thing in this town.  Steer clear of her if you want to keep anything private.”

          “You don’t like Molly?”

          “Everyone likes Molly, and Molly likes everyone.”

          “And that’s a problem?”

          Pamela shrugged.  “Obviously not for her.”

          “We’re not talking about her.”

          She shrugged.  “I really don’t care.  I try not to make attachments.  It’s easier to leave if there aren’t any attachments.”

          “And you want to leave Rock Harbor?”

          “I want to leave Wisconsin.  Every single day of my life.”

          It was probably the one completely truthful thing she’d said.  Collier studied her, trying to assess her age.  “You’re what, thirty?  You’re old enough to go out on your own.  What’s stopping you?”

          “I’m twenty-seven thank you.”

          Collier nearly laughed out loud at the wounded expression on Mel’s face. 

          “And I can’t leave because it’s complicated.  But I can’t go home tonight.”

          There was a glimmer of true fear in her soft green eyes.  Collier relented.  “Fine.  Just go…go in the bathroom for a minute, let me get my crap together and I’ll go sleep on the hay downstairs.”

          “You sure you’re okay?”

          “Oh now that you’ve won the bed, you want to know what my opinion is?”

          The softness melted from her face and her jaw line hardened.  “Not really.  I couldn’t care less where you sleep tonight, so long as it’s not in here.”

          “Suits me fine.  I’d rather sleep with horses than up here with you.  Less shit to deal with.”

          “Oh very nice.  They teach you that language in the south where men are supposed to be so mannerly?”  She glared at him as she stomped into the small bathroom and slammed the door.

          “No!”  Collier yelled as he pulled on his jeans.  “I learned manners just fine, because where I come from the women aren’t complete bitches!”  He stuffed a few things into his duffle bag and slammed the door behind him, startling the horses in the stalls below.

          There was a blanket hanging from a hook near a stack of hay bales.  Collier spread the blanket over the bales and stretched out, thankful his years on the road in the Renaissance faire circuit had toughened him.  Staring at the ceiling, he watched the light that glowed from between small cracks in the loft floor.  When the light switched off, he closed his eyes.  Still, she is pretty…pretty bitchy.