Preview my new release, More Than Truth!

The first book in this series, More Than Memories, released in the spring quite a while ago… years ago actually! It was a standalone romantic suspense novel, and it wasn’t until about two years ago that I realized there was much more to tell here.

The first book revolved around Molly’s return after a four year absence due to memory loss. That loss comes back in this book; as you’ll see, it opens during the summer after all of them graduated.


https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FZRSTN46

More Than Truth on Amazon

Some truths should stay buried. Others refuse to die.

When a convicted killer is released on new DNA evidence, Trent Williams expects controversy. Instead he gets a new case and a possible killer in town. They were all at the lake party that summer long ago, the night Wendy Harper vanished. The real killer could be any one of them: one of their friends, a local cop, or town resident.

The original evidence was ignored, which pointed to several suspects. The wrongly imprisoned man now wants to find the truth. Then a copycat murder rocks Ridge City—and Trent’s family becomes the target of a chilling message: You ruined my life.

It all happened the summer Molly Williams disappeared. Her memory of that time is scattered at best… and yet certain images keep coming back to haunt her, like a cabin in the mist.

The past is haunting them all. But is the killer hunting them right now?


Prologue

The July Fourth After Graduation

A shooting star streaked across the black sky high above their campfire and circle of chairs. Eighteen-year-old Alicia tracked it until it disappeared behind the old growth forest crowding around the lake. Was it a sign? It had to be good luck for the rest of their lives, starting this summer.

A few of them were singing or humming along with the song playing in the pickup a ways off. A fitting song about living in a small town.

She shivered as the night air settled around them, even though her face and arms were hot from the fire. They’d all swam in the lake as the sun set, and her damp hair felt cold on her neck.

Once it was dark, some of the guys lit fireworks over the lake and on the sandy beach where it was big enough to be safe. She liked watching them… But this was better. The quiet noises of nature, the crackling fire, and laughter.

Suddenly another huge star blazed across the sky, this one so bright it had a long tail.

“Did you see that?!” Alicia squealed and pointed up, sitting across the bonfire from her older brother Trent. Slightly older brother Trent. “That’s the biggest shooting star I’ve ever seen!”

She looked back down at their circle of friends: Trent and Molly, Wendy and Colby, Mark, and his cousin Jaycen with his girlfriend Lauren. They were a couple years older, so that automatically made them seem more sophisticated. Plus, they’d driven up from California two weeks ago, both with golden tans and honey blond hair like a Hollywood couple. So far everyone liked them.

“It’s technically an asteroid,” Colby said under his breath to his girlfriend Wendy. Alicia rolled her eyes but didn’t comment.

“Let’s make a wish!” she said.

“I wish…” Wendy closed her eyes while her mouth moved silently. Her dark hair looked extra shiny in the campfire light.

“I want another six pack!” CJ yelled from out in the darkness, and a couple football players with him whooped. They were hanging out about thirty feet away by the tree line, at the back end of the pickup truck with the tailgate down to hold the beer coolers.

Groans followed from around the campfire where her group sat.

In between songs, an owl screeched off in the distance, probably across the lake from them, reminding them of all the nature out there in the dark. Sometimes they even heard coyotes out here but no one really worried about them.

“Seriously!” Alicia added loudly. In a normal voice, she added to her friends, “What should we wish for? For all of us?”

“More nights like this,” her brother Trent said, soft orange light dancing on his face. He turned his head to gaze at his girlfriend Molly. They sat snuggled up, their heads resting against each other, her dark curls falling on his shoulder.

Molly was Alicia’s best friend… and it was a little weird that she was dating Trent. Or, it was at first. Now it seemed like it was always meant to be.

“Yes!” Mark raised his beer. “More campfires! Fishing trips. And smooth sailing when we apply to the Police Academy.”

Alicia raised her Pepsi with only a little hesitation. She wanted her brother to be happy. Both Trent and Mark wanted to be officers on the Ridge City police force. Mark was focused on his goal, ignoring everything else. Trent, on the other hand, spent a ton of time with Molly. Was that good for someone who wanted to be a cop?

Mark and Alicia were the only two single people sitting around the fire, but they’d always been just friends. He was good-looking. Tall, lean, an easy smile. Curly blond hair that made all the girls want to touch it. Maybe the two of them never entertained the idea because he was her brother’s best friend. But he had been there for her too.

Everyone here was woven into the memories of her growing up years. Almost everyone out here at the lake too. Ridge City was a small town and everyone knew everyone. The jocks, skaters, and smart kids had their own groups but it all overlapped.

“Mol, what about you, babe?” Trent asked, pulling their blanket over her shoulder where it was slipping. Molly leaned her head back to give him a sly smile.

“A nice house, babies… and some kind of cool business.”

Everyone snickered. Molly had a different business idea for every day of the week. Alicia almost cracked a joke but the love was sizzling between her brother and best friend.

“Maybe some wedding bells in there?” Trent said, his low voice making Molly giggle. Those two.

“Yes, some wedding bells too,” Molly whispered.

“Get a room!” Colby said even though he was tucked in with his girlfriend too. Or, actually, Wendy was in her own chair.

Alicia wanted romance like that. Sometime later, maybe. She had plans and didn’t want to get sidetracked.

“I wish we could stay longer,” Lauren said wistfully. She was an outsider, but she came here with Mark’s cousin, Jaycen.

Alicia looked her way and tried to read her expression in the flickering orange light. She was kinda fancy for their group, not that they were snobs or anything. Just… Lauren really dressed to impress even though it sounded like she came from a small town too. Alicia’s mom had commented it seemed like Lauren was “putting on airs” to make up for something.

Anyway, her wish surprised Alicia.

Lauren’s light blond hair gleamed as the fire crackled and popped. They were a fun couple. Well, Jaycen was super fun. Always singing and joking. Maybe it’d be cool if they got to stay longer, but he’d come for a seasonal summer job.

“You never know, honeycakes,” Jaycen said jokingly, but in that honeyed voice of his, while his arms wrapped around her so one draped between her knees. “You never know what the future holds.”

Lauren didn’t smile. Alicia tried to read her expression better but couldn’t. It was Jaycen’s face catching the light, his wide smile and thick blond hair. It was straight and shiny, a little long like he wanted to look dangerous. Or sexy. Dangerous was a funny word to use.

“Alicia, what about you?” Molly asked her, breaking into her thoughts. “College and taking on the world?”

“Yeah, what about you?” Wendy asked from right next to her. Everyone was under a blanket with their boyfriend, Wendy included. She was sitting with Colby.

Alicia turned their way. “You first.”

“I want…” Wendy paused, thinking, but Alicia knew her friend had plans. Maybe she was nervous to share them. “I want to go to U of O, for Ocean Studies.”

“For what?” Colby asked in a condescending way.

“Ocean Studies,” Wendy said with a scoff. “As if you care. Or know what that is.”

“That’s super cool,” Alicia told her, cutting off the argument before it started. Wendy was one of her close friends. Not quite as close as Molly, her best friend. Still, she hoped all of them would stay close after this summer. Everything was changing…

An awkward silence was building so Alicia shared.

“I wish… that I get all A’s in college.”

“Seriously?” Colby asked while also covering a burp with his elbow.

“Gross!”

“Seriously,” Alicia said, raising her soda can in a toast to herself. “College and taking on the world.”

She wasn’t ready to tell anyone she wanted to write novels.

Campfire smoke caught her in the face then and she tilted her head back to breathe.

She saw another shooting star. This time, she made a silent wish. Two wishes.

I wish to be a writer someday.

And… I wish we’re always friends.

Chapter One

Molly Williams – Present Day

Molly Williams stepped outside her front door to retrieve the morning paper. She paused to appreciate the soft mist clinging to the tall evergreens on the other side of the private road leading deeper into the property. The morning sun was burning through the mist to create a halo bursting through the old growth trunks.

Robins hopped through the Rhodies growing close to the house, chirping good morning to everyone. She loved their yard, and this entire property where they would ride horses and take the kids on picnics.

She sipped her steaming black coffee and grabbed the paper, then stilled as she caught sight of a few words.

…Killer Colby Whitbourn…

She knew that name.

She shook it out to read the full title before stepping inside and hurrying back toward the kitchen and her husband, Trent. Her two children stopped their play to look up as she sped by, trying not to slosh coffee.

“It’s okay, kids!” she called. Shyann had poked her head into the hallway. Molly glanced back to make sure her daughter had rejoined Lucus. They were already giggling.

Trent startled, setting his own mug down without taking the planned drink.

“Have you seen this?” Molly slapped the morning edition of the Ridge City Review down on the table in front of his coffee, anger and fear burning in her chest. “Candice didn’t think to call us?”

Candice, a tall reporter with pretty brown eyes, ran the local paper on her own, and was somewhat of a friend. At least, they helped each other. Before retiring from the police force, Trent shared some information with her and she did the same. Candice had been working with Trent’s sister Alicia on a book, too, about a true crime here in Ridge City.

They kept a subscription to the paper over their friendship.

Trent lifted the paper to read the headline out loud, “DNA Evidence Exonerates Convicted Killer Colby Whitbourn. What…? How is this possible?”

Two photos sat side by side on the front page. On the left, a mug shot showed a young and despondent Colby Whitbourn, his head tilted forward as he glared at the camera. His dark blond hair looked greasy, slicked in different directions. Molly could remember his light green eyes that made up for his plain face. The photo didn’t capture his eye color well.

On the right, a young woman with light blue eyes and dark hair smiled for her senior photo. How sad that her life and name would always be shadowed by her murder.

“What happened that summer?” Molly asked, sitting down and springing up again to pace. “All these memories are swamping my brain…” She bracketed her head with her hands, flustered. “I didn’t forget this too, did I?”

Trent held out a calming hand, waiting until she looked him in the eye.

“It’ll come back, and if it doesn’t, I’ll talk you through it, okay?” He waited for her nod and refocused on the paper.

She’d lost her memory a long time ago, and although she regained it, once in a great while something popped up that made her question things from the past. This was one of them.

“What evidence? Is it new?” he mumbled to himself, beginning to read.

Colby Whitbourn spent over a decade in prison–for a crime he didn’t commit. Whitbourn was convicted for the murder of Wendy Harper, a recent high school graduate at the time. All the clues pointed to him, and he was convicted on circumstantial evidence.

Whitbourn maintained his innocence and this past year the Innocence Project worked with state authorities and new technologies to clear his name.

While police did discover DNA evidence during the investigation, it was inconclusive at the time and not usable in court. However, new techniques have developed ways to test the old samples, and this revealed that Colby Whitbourn is innocent. This story is unfolding and more information will be forthcoming.

Trent leaned back, his gaze focused on the slider. It offered a view of their expansive backyard that backed into forest, but Molly doubted he was actually looking at the view.

“This says Colby wasn’t a match to the DNA sample, but that doesn’t mean…” He glanced over and let the rest of his words fade away.

Molly folded her arms and chewed on a fingernail while pacing. It sounded like Trent was already working a case while she was trying to process this.

“I’m not sure why it’s upsetting me so much,” she said quietly. “It’s like I’m remembering it for the first time since… since that summer and what happened. I feel horrible, like I simply pushed it out of mind all this time.”

“Mol, hey,” he said, reaching out to her. She didn’t go to him. “That was the summer before you lost your memory, when you hurt your head and your parents took you and fled town. That year before has always been fuzzy for you. Don’t blame yourself.”

He had a point. She’d spent four years in California after that, no memory of who she was or what had happened here in Ridge City. That could be why this got all but erased. Now, however, it was burning up through her memories and wrecking havoc on her stomach.

Almost like there was more to it.

Trent rose and pulled her into a tight hug, rubbing a hand up and down her back. They stood together, body to body, sharing heat and strength. Molly laid her head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat, going back in time.

Did she remember that year correctly, or was it tinted through the trauma of the next few years?

“That was a great summer until things went south,” he murmured, and she knew he planned to talk her through things and calm her nerves. “We were so young. Fresh out of high school. We were secretly talking about marriage anyway. Maybe not so secretly. Alicia was all fired up about going to college. Mark knew he wanted to go into law enforcement.”

“So did you.” She remembered all of that, and how they were trying to fit in as much life and memory making as possible, because some of them were moving on. Life was a big open road ahead of them, full of possibilities, and change. “Do you remember her?”

“Wendy Harper… Yeah, of course I do. I knew we weren’t super close, but she went through all twelve years of school with us. She hung out with us a lot our senior year and that summer.”

“I remember going to the lake with everyone… more than once.”

“More than once,” he echoed with a small laugh. “More like once a week. Our smaller group, anyway. You and me,” he started listing, “Mark, Alicia, Colby, Wendy, and Jaycen. That was Mark’s cousin, and Jaycen’s girlfriend, Lauren too. They stayed for two months.”

“I don’t remember him…”

“They were just visiting anyway.”

As she remembered, she smelled the lake, the campfire smoke, and Trent’s cologne that he wore back then. She could see the stars in the black sky, the tree line across the lake, as she sat by the campfire with everyone.

She remembered swimming in the lake in the evenings, jumping off the dock, and then how cold the air grew late at night.

She remembered that summer… but not the exact night Wendy vanished.

“Hmm.” Trent made a noise that meant he wasn’t happy about something. “The thing that’s always stuck out to me… It wasn’t what I saw, but what I missed. I don’t know if I talked to Wendy that night, and I just barely remember seeing her once or twice. I didn’t have any useful information.”

“That’s not your fault.” She tried to look up at his face but couldn’t see his expression.

“Still.”

“Wendy went to the bathroom,” she said almost like a confession. “And didn’t come back. Once we realized, everyone started looking and yelling for her.”

Molly leaned back. Trent loosened his embrace so they could see each other before he said, “It came out that Wendy was starting to see another guy and Colby found out. I’m not sure if you were here to hear that, or the end of the investigation.”

“End of the investigation?” She didn’t follow.

He sighed. “A month later, a hiker found a gravesite out past the reservoir. It turned out to be Wendy.”

She stepped back and wrapped her arms around herself. Did she remember that? Her memory grew foggy sometime during that summer.

Little Lucas ran into the room, giggling, with Shyann right behind him. She wiggled her fingers in front of her like monster claws. They ran around the table, and back out again, with Shyann’s curls making a long cape behind her.

Trent watched them with a soft smile on his face. Molly waited for him to call out for them to slow down but he was too distracted. He refreshed his coffee mug and handed it to her. With a wave toward the paper, he said, “Candice probably thought we knew. I mean, I’m not on the force but Mark’s my best friend.”

“Surely he knew? He’s the chief now. How come he didn’t know?”

“Or didn’t tell us,” Trent said softly, implying that Mark Stone, the Ridge City Chief of Police, might have chosen not to tell them. “I’ll find out more when I head in. I’m sure Mark will want my help digging into the old files.”

Again? She didn’t like how often he was pulled back to the station, to his old life as a detective. They ran a retreat on their property now, which had been Trent’s idea.

But, the old life still pulled at him. The past always wanted them back.

Corvette Coverup – a thriller mini

So, it’s taken me a good while but I finally did a thing – I created a reader magnet, a novella that you get for free when you sign up for my newsletter. Of course, you might already signed up here for my blogs, but I wanted to share this gripping story and the cover with you.

Just click the title or cover to visit my sign up page and download the story today!

Corvette Coverup

When a famous actress is found murdered in her Corvette, the similarities to Aubry Lane’s upcoming novel are impossible to ignore—especially when Aubry’s name is discovered at the scene. Facing public suspicion and police scrutiny, Aubry steps into the spotlight to control the narrative, confident that stories—when told correctly—can protect as much as they reveal. But the deeper she digs into her past, the more she begins to suspect the real danger isn’t the story she told… …it’s the one someone else has been editing for years.

Assitant for Hire: A High-Stakes Thriller of Lies, Luxury, and Survival

What would you do to save your sister?

Zoe Montgomery needs money fast—more than she could earn in 10 years as a nurse—to keep her little sister alive long enough to receive a heart transplant. Then she finds a possible miracle.

Looking for a female assistant. Must travel. Must adapt. Must disappear into a role.
Payment: life-changing.
Terms: classified.

When she finds an ad seeking a female “travel companion” for a two-week luxury trip, she knows it’s dangerous. Vague. Too good to be true.

And she goes anyway.

Soon Zoe is swept into a world of billionaires, boardroom sharks, and carefully staged affection… all in paradise. Her new role? Pretend to be the girlfriend of the elusive Leighton Forester. Why? She has no clue and isn’t allowed to ask. No touching, no questions, no complications.

But rules are only real until someone breaks them.

Someone else is pulling strings behind the scenes. Someone who knows why Zoe was chosen, who benefits if this relationship fails publicly—and who won’t let her walk away.

Zoe thought she was being paid to play a part.

Now she’s realizing she’s the weapon in someone else’s war.

~ ~ ~

Why did he hire Zoe? Why is he lying to everyone? What’s really at stake?

Find out…

Download today! Kindle Unlimited and Paperback

Paws for Clues, a new cozy mystery series by friend Gabriele Ewerts

I hope you had a Merry Christmas … and Happy New Year! It’s almost 2026 – so crazy!

I’m spending today, the last day of 2025, thinking of everything I’ve accomplished this year, including writing a new series and planning several new thrillers. My next novel, Assistant for Hire, is releasing in mere days!!

Before that, however, I wanted to give a shout out to my friend Gabriele Ewerts, who is launching her first cozy mystery series. She’s been writing fantasy for years and how has a super fun mystery series! I enjoyed the story and had to share. It’s available in KU and print – check it out at https://a.co/d/fcWzzZc

A telepathic dog, a dead body, and a widow who refuses to roll over.

Still reeling from her husband’s sudden death, Trudy barely has time to grieve before his secrets start surfacing—beginning with a telepathic dog who won’t stop talking. After losing everything, the widow moves into a quirky mobile home park with her outspoken new companion and vows to rebuild her life.

But when she stumbles upon a dead body, Trudy’s fresh start takes a deadly detour. Determined to clear her name, she and her four-legged sidekick dive nose-first into the mystery. Can this unlikely duo sniff out the killer before she becomes the next victim?

Ghosts of Echoes Past – new cozy mystery! (Sneak peek!)

Book Three in the Mystery Falls Cozy Mystery Series

Sometimes the past echoes through generations


When Drew Davenport finds an old plane ticket tucked inside a used book, he never expects it to uncover a century-old tragedy… Or a family secret that ties him to Mystery Falls. The faded notes on the ticket point to Colette Davenport, a young woman lost in a plane crash and parents who vanished into the mountains soon after.

As winter closes in, a modern-day couple disappears near the same ridge. Locals whisper about ghostly lanterns and voices that echo through the canyon. Together with Ava Fairchild, Drew follows a trail of letters, legends, and lies into the snowy wilderness to stop history from repeating itself.

Cozy, haunting, and full of heart, Ghosts of Echoes Past weaves small-town charm with a chilling mystery of love, loss, and the secrets we inherit.

Chapter One: Drew

A swell of pride and contentment filled me as I parked by my bookstore entrance. I glanced up at the partly cloudy sky as I carried the last box of books inside the store. The air had a bite that hinted of snow but not quite yet, just the sharp, clean chill that made my breath curl in front of me. 

I nudged the door open with my hip and stepped into the stillness of Booksy Bar, where the scent of roasted coffee beans and old paper mingled with the invigorating, woodsy pine from the garland Ava had hung.

The place was dark and quiet on this Sunday morning before Thanksgiving, our usual day off. No soft laughter drifting between the stacks, no clinking mugs, no friends gathered near the fire. 

Don’t get me wrong, I love that bustle too, seeing customers linger and talk, their voices blending with the low hum of the espresso machine, but I love being here and doing what I want. I can browse books, organize, sit by the fire to read without anyone around. 

Well, seeing as I’m alone, I can be honest and say my very favorite time here is with my business partner Ava, sitting at the bar counter with her hair in a messy bun, debating what new cider to try or teasing me about organizing books by emotion instead of genre. 

I dropped the boxes off in the back sorting room and went to make a hot chocolate at the café counter. The weather called for it. I would need something warm before the hike into Mystery Falls in a few hours. We were all going, partly because Ava, and our chef Tony, had yet to see the falls. I actually hadn’t been in a few years, either. It’d be fun to hike in, forage for mushrooms, and spend time with our team away from work. Well, as long as the skies played nice and didn’t rain on us. 

Steam rose from the mug as I settled onto a stool by the sorting table. The boxes came from the attic at home, the one room I haven’t completely gone through since taking ownership of my late parents’ house. When I saw the boxes contained books, I stowed them in the car to bring them here. 

The first box held old novels and comic books, odd finds, since these came from my parent’s stored things in the attic. I expected to find my father’s historical texts or my mother’s cookbooks, not pulp covers and superhero capes. I smiled, shaking my head. Dad had probably tucked them away to “keep them safe,” which usually meant forgotten.

I started a small keeper pile on the shelf I jokingly called my Vault: books too interesting to sell or too rare to part with. The comics looked promising due to their age and the pristine packaging.  

The next box held paperbacks with faded beach covers. Mostly romances, book club fiction, dog-eared adventures. A few big hits like The Help by Kathryn Stockett. There were a few old westerns and even crime fiction. The Dan Brown titles had been huge. 

Maybe these had been yard sale finds, or possibly a stash they started because I always talked about opening a bookstore. My mom had loved the idea of me starting one here.

I sorted them into stacks, mentally plotting a “Summer in December” sale with the beach reads. They were used so it’d be a nice deal for anyone wanting to stuff stockings.

One book, The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown, had something wedged inside the pages. I flipped it open to find an old plane ticket dated 2010. The name read Arthur Davenport, my grandfather.

Oh, wow. Maybe these boxes had been his.

I brushed dust from the edges, intrigued with this little piece of history. I found plenty of makeshift bookmarks inside used books: grocery lists, receipts, even a pressed flower, but never a plane ticket.

The flight was from Portland to Bend. He must have driven from there. My parents had lived here about eight years at that time. I wasn’t able to make it here to see him… I only remembered because it was the last time my grandfather came here before he died. If only I could pick up the phone and call Heaven, and tell him, “Guess what, Grandpa! I moved to Mystery Falls too!”

I’d have to search for photos from that visit. Acute regret and longing hit me.

Blinking tears away, I turned the ticket over to see if it had any other info. On the back, someone had scrawled notes in neat, purposeful handwriting:

Birth mother — Colette Davenport
Birth place — Mystery Falls, OR
1944 or 45?
Thomas Jones? William Gray?

“What in the world…?” I set the ticket on the table, heart ticking faster. “My grandfather was born here?”

Was this some forgotten piece of family lineage, that didn’t mean much, or was it hidden on purpose? I had no clue I had any ties to Mystery Falls, and I couldn’t fathom how or why my parents overlooked telling me.

I had never heard of Colette, but she had to be my great grandmother. My grandfather was born in 1945.

A flash of irony made me look at the book’s title again: The Lost Symbol. Interesting.

My parents retired here twenty years ago. My father died ten years ago, and then this last summer, my mother. But they were both alive when my grandfather visited with this ticket. They never mentioned any links to the town. In fact, I felt sure they led me to believe they had chosen this place for its quaint setting, friendly people, and close access to hiking and outdoor adventures. They’d never said anything about my grandparents being from here—or anyone named Colette.

That was the other thing. My grandfather was adopted? Or was I misunderstanding this?

What else could this mean, other than he was looking for his birth mother? The part that made me doubt my assumption was the two names that followed: Thomas Jones and William Gray.

Why would my grandfather have his mother’s name, Davenport, if he was adopted? 

If I wanted to dig any further, I’d have to run home.

“Oh, shoot,” I muttered, checking the time on my phone. Eleven. I was supposed to meet Ava and the others here at noon for the hike. I came here planning to stay until it was time.

Still, curiosity tugged hard. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had stumbled onto something important. Plus, if I ran home, I could switch vehicles in case I ended up driving out to the falls.

I used the boxes to organize the books for the used book sale, the ones I wasn’t keeping anyway. 

Taking the book and plane ticket with me, I made a trip to the café to reheat my cold cocoa. It was quiet on the bar side, but Ava was probably up… I thought about sharing this with her but something completely stopped me. It felt like a fresh wound. 

I locked up and headed out to the car.  The white Camry had belonged to my mother, and it made sense to keep it for the better gas mileage… and the memories. 

The town’s decorations had morphed from creepy to full-on harvest time, including some decorative turkeys. A few leftover pumpkins sat on the street corners, some with holes pecked into them. Straw brooms with fake orange flowers marked the tail end of autumn. Some businesses had strung up orange lights, making our streets cozier. 

Our claim to fame was, “Most Bigfoot sightings in the world!” But we also leaned into the small town charm, especially for Christmastime. Did that charm hide something? Something deeper and mysterious? Maybe there was a reason for the Bigfoot sightings. I mean, where else can a bitter wife frame a 100-year-old ghost for her husband’s murder?

That was a good point: it was always a person behind it, not some paranormal activity. Even the Bigfoot sightings. Nathan Harper had dressed up as Bigfoot this year for Spooky Fest and kept his identity hidden for the entire week, winning the yearly costume prize.   

Back home, I went inside and jogged up the stairs to my father’s old office. I had sorted this room during this summer and fall, carefully boxing letters and sorting ledgers, so I wasn’t sure what I hoped to find now. 

I rifled through drawers and checked the file cabinets but didn’t see anything helpful. Where would they keep that? I wasn’t sure Dad would have it in here…

The photo albums! I hurried downstairs and turned to take in the wall of family photographs. It reminded me of the night I had Ava over for dinner and she spent a good while taking them all in. At the foot of the wall, my mom had a short, long shelf full of photo albums. I kneeled down and began sliding them out one at a time, looking for her labels.

I pushed an album in and reached for the next, but stopped when I found a folder labeled Family Records. Bingo. 

I laid it on the floor and opened the cover, hoping documents would be in some kind of chronological order. There were a few marriage certificates, copies of birth certificates, school related papers, and the older documents.

One thin, very old paper had family information typed out. The top of the page showed my mother’s family tree, going back four generations. 

On the bottom half, it listed the four generations of the Davenports, but it oddly didn’t mention Colette or her parents. It started with someone else.  

Harold & Elise Davenport (m. Portland, Ore) 

→ Arthur Davenport (1945–2018) 

→ Michael Davenport (1966–2015) m Elaine (b. 1973) 

→ Drew Davenport (b. 1994)

Strange… Arthur was looking for his birth parents here in Mystery Falls, not Harold and Elise. They must have adopted him… So how were they related to Colette? She lived here but her baby was raised elsewhere. I had so many questions. There was only one thing I could draw from all of this. My family hadn’t just come to Mystery Falls. They’d come back.

Download now in Kindle! Paperback available as well.

For people who like small town cozy mysteries with ghosts, Christmas, and slow burn romance!

Cover Reveals & New Releases!

So the third Mystery Falls novel is releasing right now… the paperback is out and the ebook will release Sunday. That one has holiday cheer, ghosts, a bookstore, mystery, inherited secrets, and slow-burn romance… and it was so much fun to write! It really put me in the Christmas spirit as the story starts around Thanksgiving and goes through the holidays.

Click to see this bookstore cozy mystery series on Amazon!

I’ve been working on a few thrillers too and wanted to share the covers…

Check out my Thrillers page for a full description…

Assistant for Hire is a game of “What’s really going on?”

That’s what drives my thrillers – the curiosity and journey of trying to discern who is really doing what.

The tone of this story is similar to The Perfect Husband… and a bit different from my other stories because it happens in paradise with warm weather and tiki drinks. And lots of intrigue.

This will be out this month!!


After that one, I’m working on a story with lots of mystery, family drama, intrigue… I’ll share more soon but I LOVE this cover and just had to share it with you.

The Enemy’s Game releases this Friday!

The Enemy’s Game – Romantic Thriller

Releasing Friday in Kindle and Kindle Unlimited! For readers who enjoy remote cabin thrillers… out in the Oregon wilderness… and stories about lies, games, and intrigue… You can pre-order to ensure you get it Friday!

She can’t trust him. She can’t survive without him.

Cora suspects her father’s employer isn’t above board, and then her father suddenly disappears. The only person who can help is the one man she can’t trust: Nick Holloway, the employer’s son.

Instead of helping, he follows his family’s orders and takes her to a remote cabin in the mountains. They think he’s proving his loyalty. Nick says he’s keeping Cora alive and buying time for her father.

Nick swears he’s on her side. That he’s risking everything to protect her. That his lies are meant to keep her alive. Is he playing both sides for some secret goal?

When Alexander Pierce, a man even the Holloways fear, offers his own brand of help, Cora realizes she’s trapped in a deadly game of deception, desire, and betrayal.

Someone knows where her father is. Someone knows what happened to the missing money. Everyone wants her under control.

The clock is ticking. The lies are closing in. And the only way to save her father… is to play the enemy’s game.

TEASER ~~~

“Where are you taking me?”

“There’s a tiny cabin up in the mountains,” he answered while glancing in the rear view mirror at Alexander’s head lights. Or was it Alexander behind them? Maybe Nick was lying so she’d cooperate. “Please don’t be scared, I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Her rattled nerves didn’t need this.

“Then why are you driving me out to a secluded cabin?” While speaking, she slid her arm down the armrest, feeling for a lock button. There didn’t seem to be one. She glanced at the door, saw the controls, and slammed her hand into them.

Nothing happened. Neither button opened the window.

Nick glanced at her hand. “Alexander disables the locks and windows on all the passenger doors. He altered my car a few days ago too.”

Tears stung the inside of her eyelids. Mortified, she rubbed her face, hoping he wouldn’t notice. It seemed likely he was playing both sides, acting like he wanted to help her even as he kidnapped her.

Check it out on Amazon

Preview Sarah’s Song

I can’t wait for you to meet Sarah, her best friend Melody, and our hero Michael and his band mates Aidan and Conor.

Too bad Conor from the story wasn’t here to do a drum roll… because I’d like to share the prologue and first chapter!

Prologue

Sarah Austin

Eugene, Oregon, USA

“God, Sarah, I just wish you’d think about someone else for once.”

Ian’s words burned into me. Sliced into me. Filled me with rage – an emotion so sudden and new that I had no idea what to say. I clenched my fists in my lap and glared out the passenger window, not seeing the people milling around downtown Eugene in the mist. Sunshine broke through for a second and I saw myself reflected back in the window, outrage in my dark eyes. The silence inside the car rang loud and long.

Think about someone else? That’s all I’ve done!

I’ve spent the last three years thinking of him, taking care of him, putting my life on hold for him. Could I ever make up for my horrible mistake three years ago and make things right again? No, I knew better than that. But I only wanted to take a girl’s trip with my best friend Melody. Was that so selfish?

He drummed his fingers on the wheel, fast, irritated. He had cracked his window, even though he knew it bothered my ears, and even the tires rolling on wet pavement sounded passive aggressive.

I worked so hard to erase his pain, to make things right in his life, but they never got better. Really, things were getting worse. Maybe I had finally reached my breaking point.

“Time shouldn’t matter,” he added in a low voice, and the cold anger startled me. “Everyone thinks I should get over it, but what do they know? What do you know, Sarah?” He said my name like it was a dirty word.

A tiny whisper somewhere in my head asked, what about me? Do I ever get to move on? Hadn’t I paid enough?

A feeling had been growing inside me, something restless and wild, and it was reaching a critical point. I wanted more—more what, I wasn’t sure. More life? More adventure? More direction? More connection with other people? I wanted to live a life and not just take care of Ian, alone all of the time.

Maybe it was selfish but the desire was growing more each day.

I worked my jaw side to side to loosen the tension. “I never once said you should just move on. You know that. You know I’ve been there for you.”

Like, every… single… day.

I couldn’t remember how to think about myself anymore. I just wanted a few days to breathe, to think. Honestly, I wasn’t sure what I needed to think about, but I just needed to step back from my life to see it. Right now, it all felt like a fog that I couldn’t escape, where I couldn’t really see anything clearly.

In the last few weeks, the trees started budding for spring. The earth was renewing; starting over. Some days, it felt as if everything else on this planet got a fresh start but I wasn’t allowed one.

Some other faint thought followed that one, but I couldn’t grab onto it. A memory? An echo of a dream? Maybe it was a song – I could almost hear a man singing.

If you want to fly, I’ll let you fly away…

I know you were tired of running… I’ll let you fly

 The music was just out of reach. It felt like I was trying to remember something urgently important, something that would change everything. I wanted to pull it out of the mist and convince myself I wasn’t going insane.

“I can’t move on,” Ian said so low it took a few seconds for the words to register.

Half of me wanted to turn toward him and reassure him, but what could I say? ‘It’s alright, you don’t have to move on. We’ll stay in our apartment together, just us, and wallow in the pain.’

No. Maybe I didn’t deserve to move on, but I needed to. Wanted to. I wanted to go back to work and see people and live again. Instead of saying any of that, I continued to glare out my window, feeling my heart beating too hard.

We’d driven through downtown to the other side where the intersections were wider. Soon we’d hit the split and turn to go up Coburg. He stopped at a light for a split second before stomping on the gas. I looked forward and gasped.

“Ian, it’s red.”

He slammed on the breaks. The car screeched to a halt right in the middle of the intersection, nothing in front of us.

“What are you doing? Don’t stop! You have to go.”

He gripped the wheel in both hands, staring forward. Horns blared at us. A car flew by from the right, inches from the front of ours. I looked in that direction. A giant silver truck barreled toward us. Our car still didn’t move.

“Ian! It’s not stopping! You have to move!”

Why wouldn’t he move—

Lauren McAlister

Dublin, Ireland

Lauren pulled a long sip from her drink before reaching over and hitting “record”.

Her reflection stared back at her, with her sky blue eyes and strawberry blond hair looking washed out. An odd feeling overcame her, like she was looking at someone else. She dropped her gaze. It was her, not the video quality that was fading.

It took a second for her shaky fingers to find their place on the guitar strings. Then she strummed, closing her eyes, pulling the intro out like taffy. She wanted to feel the music, really feel it like she used to—in her heart and soul.

Music made her. It saved her. But not anymore.

That could be a line in another song but those songs were for someone else to sing, not her.

Lauren brought her attention back to this song, the one that had been weaving itself inside her for weeks.

As she strummed, she talked.

“I’m not sure what this is titled. I’m calling it ‘Carry me Home’. It’s more about carrying my music for me. I wanted to share it and say… I wanted to say I love you all. And… and rock on.”

She started to sing.

A bird in a tree, singing

Does the world hear?

A bird in a tree, singing,

Does the world care?

It’s my song

Maybe your song

something we all need to hear

A cry from the deep, secrets meant to keep

Except the bird is singing

So much hurt, everything so weighted

All the time I wasted, all the things I hated

Hope had a home but I couldn’t see

Music was my phone, my way home

Now it will find you for me

Sing, keep the music alive

Just sing

Take wings and find a home

Take my words and roam

Don’t waste away like me

Find somebody, find somebody

Let the world see

Let the world hear

A bird in a tree

… is singing for me –

somewhere

Chapter One

Michael Singer

Red Rock Beach by Dublin, Ireland

Who are we now? Is Mystic Mist done?

The spike of anger surprised me. It was new, and I didn’t like it. I didn’t want to be angry at Lauren—that was how her dad reacted to everything. I was her safe place. Or had been.

Lauren was gone. Really gone.

And I was thinking about the band? Honestly?

We trudged up the hill like we had an appointment, a destination besides the cliff. Once there, we stood in silence, Conor and Aidan on either side of me. As lead guitarist, I was often looked at as the leader of the band. I wasn’t leading anyone these days. I tossed the handful of sandy dirt over the cliff, watching the wind scatter it into oblivion, off into the Atlantic Ocean.

I had found her in her room this morning, her face so at peace that I couldn’t make myself understand that she was gone. Where had she gone? How could she be here last night and gone today? My brain didn’t bother with answers that my heart couldn’t comprehend.

After all the emergency people left, we’d been sitting around the band house in shock. Aidan decided we were coming here, to say goodbye I guess. Or maybe to have some quiet to gather ourselves. He chose here because this was a place that brought her peace.

Are ya at peace, Lauren?

Conor shook his head, drawing my attention. “She didn’t have to do it.”

The wind almost hid his hoarse voice but then we realized what he said. Both Aidan and I snapped in his direction.

“Conor,” Aidan started in a warning tone, his jaw tight. I clenched my fists but couldn’t contain everything. I threw my hands up, twisting and rushing away from them. Instantly, Aidan and Conor ran around in front of me. Both put a hand on my shoulder.

When I semi collected myself, I said, “We don’t know.”

We didn’t know. All her medical issues, the drugs, the booze… We just couldn’t say what happened yet.

“Yeah, we don’t know it was on purpose,” Aidan said, directed toward his cousin Conor. To me, it didn’t matter, but I wondered why there wasn’t a note or any kind of goodbye. Unless, maybe there was a note somewhere and I missed it? I would look later.

We turned toward the ocean again but didn’t walk back to the cliff. That would be too dangerous, too close to the edge. We were on the edge emotionally already. The daylight was fading away. I didn’t want this day to end this way, without her. But I couldn’t make the minutes stop. Waves roared far below, their briny scent rising up. Staring straight out into the blue endless sky, I picked out the faint shape of the moon. Maybe it was that faint because it was showing from the other side – where she was. Maybe she could see it too.

“Should we say something?” Aidan asked. But no one did. No one could. Especially after Conor’s comment—it was too fresh to even process yet. We couldn’t talk about how wonderful she’d been or how the world would be darker without her. She’d been like dynamite blowing through everything. Her fire went into our lyrics. Her passion and anger in her voice drew crowds at our gigs. She’d been consuming. But, without doubt, we all loved Lauren.

Thinking her name shot a stab of pain through my heart and I looked heavenward, fighting the tears. It wasn’t fair. She was hardly given a chance in life. I had tried so hard to make it better for her and carry some of her pain. I’d been her best friend, listening ear, sometimes her man. It’d been complicated but I had always been whatever she needed.

We started out as neighbors turned friends over a shared love of music. It didn’t take long for me, even as a boy, to know something was off in her home. We were ten the first time I heard fighting. We were playing a board game on the floor in the living room while music videos blared on the TV. She moved her piece on the board and went back to head banging. It took a minute to register the yelling from another room.

I watched the sparkle disappear from her eyes. The front door slammed, and her dad’s current girlfriend continued yelling from the front yard as she left.

Lauren shrugged and turned the music up. “It’s your turn!” she yelled, jabbing a hand at the game. I thought it was okay for a second, but even as a kid I noticed how stiffly she sat and the way she glanced behind me every few seconds.

We heard her father stomp up the stairs and slam another door.

“He’ll be fine after he drinks,” Lauren said as if that were normal. That was her typical reaction, at least the first few years. Then she started down her own path of drinking, drugs, and self harm. It spiraled out of control when her health took a dive—thanks to sickle cell disease running in her family, along with alcoholism and some schizophrenia. Talk about getting the shitty end of the stick in about every instance.

Some days, she was full of fire. Other days she just wanted to hide from all the pain, both emotionally and physically. And through all the days, we had music. Starting a band in my garage happened so naturally that I couldn’t remember who thought of it. We could escape the violence in her home and the entire outside world to get lost into our own.

I choked on a sob, trying to push the past away. Conor and Aidan both wrapped an arm around me.

Conor had been my friend since we could push toy trucks around. He joined the band to play the drums. We’d been lucky to know someone with natural talent, plus Conor’s parents had paid for private lessons from a young age. Conor took only one thing in life seriously, and that was drumming. In all other aspects, he had a ‘live and let live’ attitude.

Conor brought Aidan in to play bass—they were cousins but opposites in some ways. Conor was a ginger with light reddish blond hair. Aidan had dark hair like me, but with deep brown eyes. Their personalities were like night and day as well.

From a young age, Aidan was obsessed with bass players from all over the music world, Duff McKagan, Flea, Cliff Burton, Getty Lee, despite so many Irish bands not including the bass. He was the guy you could go to when you needed advice. He kept the peace when needed. It made sense that he thought of coming here to remember Lauren.

What did that make me? I wasn’t sure. I actually didn’t know my role in life besides making music, keeping the band on track, and keeping Lauren alive. Except I hadn’t.

“Is this the end?” I asked out loud, not thinking.

“What the hell?” Conor nudged my arm. He leaned forward to share a look with Aidan on the other side of me.

“What do you mean?” Aidan asked, “The end of what?”

“The band. Us,” I said. A long pause followed.

“We’re still here,” Aidan finally said quietly. “She didn’t want us to fall apart.”

But we would. I hated that thought, but wasn’t that how it worked? What if I didn’t want us to go on without her?

Conor shook his head. Cleared his throat. He was gearing up to say something important, which wasn’t his style. After some feet shuffling, he said, “People need us.”

I looked at him for a long moment, wanting to believe that but not sure I could. We weren’t that famous. Did our band mean anything to other people, or just to us?

 It had been something that kept Lauren going, until it didn’t anymore. Why did this have to happen? Everything felt wrong now. Why couldn’t I have just kept her alive?

Sarah

Eugene, Oregon

It was more than a thought or feeling, so much more, yet it stayed at the edge of my perception, ever so quietly and slowly coming my way. I wasn’t afraid. It wasn’t coming for me, just to me. Peace settled into my chest, like morning sunshine and music at the same time. Chords on a guitar played a soft song. Notes came in from another guitar, both acoustic. A man’s voice seemed to rise out of the song followed by a woman’s, singing in perfect harmony.

I’ll let you fly away . . .

Was this the memory that had tickled my mind? It didn’t matter. This felt so sweet, feeling the music flow through me.

This is what it feels like, I realized, to not be full of guilt.

 Then the peaceful feeling evaporated, replaced by darkness and a question: why would I feel guilty? That brought it all back: the argument about the girl’s trip, the intersection, the red light, the truck barreling toward my window as I sat still, helpless. No.

Ian, why didn’t you move?

“Sarah?” The voice was unfamiliar but when I pried my eyelids open, Melody’s face swam in front of me with tears pooling in her greenish-hazel eyes. Her cascading brown ringlets were swept over one shoulder as she leaned toward me.

Why was she so worried?

“Melody?” I tried to reach for her and she took my hand. My mind felt torn between a story it was weaving and reality, but each breath took me farther away from the fragmented thoughts I’d been chasing.

Melody wiped at her eyes, trying for a wobbly smile.

“You really do have crazy long eyelashes,” I said, my voice airy like I hadn’t talked in a long time.

She gave a gurgled laugh. “Sarah, you okay in there?” 

“Hello, there.” The voice came from behind Melody. A young woman doctor waited for me to focus on her. Her brown eyes reached out, caring. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Sarah Austin. Melody didn’t tell you?”

The doctor smiled. “You weren’t so sure last time. This is progress.”

 Melody took a shaky breath. Her hand tightened around mine. “Sarah, welcome back.”

This was a hospital—this was like before, yet, it wasn’t. This was new.

 “Sarah, I’m Dr. Sharma. Are you in any pain?”

After a second’s thought, I said, “No, not that I can tell right now.” I almost shook my head but it felt weird. Maybe something was wrong.

“That’s good to hear.”

“Am I okay?”

“You have a concussion and contusions from the seat belt—that just means bruising. Those will probably get worse over the next few days but I can prescribe a pain killer. You’ve been in and out since arriving here, so I ordered a brain scan. No swelling or bleeding.”

I looked at Melody, confused. Hadn’t I just woken up? How long have I been here? The words didn’t come out.

The doctor had me track a light with my eyes while asking a series of simple questions to check my memory. When she turned to speak to the nurse, a long sheath of straight black hair swept down her back, swishing with her movement. She came back to me and said they were going to monitor me at least until the next day. “I’ll be around in another couple of hours, okay? If you need anything, call for your nurse.”

This all felt routine, but something felt very wrong. Once we were alone, I asked Mel, “What about . . . Ian? He’s gone?”

She nodded and I sucked in a breath.

“He left with his mother.”

My breath rushed out as stars sparkled in my vision from relief. Melody started gushing, “No, no, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean he died. He just left, and I haven’t seen him.”

“What do you mean, just left? Did he at least check on me first?”

Her gaze dropped as she gave a small shake. It didn’t make any sense that he would take off and leave me alone, like he didn’t care. Maybe my brain was rattled and I was missing something, or maybe his overly controlling mother forced him to leave. Still, he couldn’t stand up to her and stay for me?

“So he didn’t get injured, if he left? Do you know if he’s okay?”

When she didn’t have an answer, I asked for my phone. My things were in a bag and my phone still had a charge, so I called him.

It rang for a long minute, and just when I expected voicemail, he answered.

“Hello.” It was his mother’s chilly voice.

“Oh, hi Lucinda, is Ian alright? Where is he?”

“My son wants nothing to do with you. Leave him alone.” She hung up.

I stared at my phone and then looked at Mel, utterly confused and hurt. Melody must have known something was going on because she was quiet, just sitting beside me and holding my hand.

Just then I caught sight of blue uniforms lingering in my doorway. My heartbeat halted, my chest constricting.

“Sarah Austin?” The taller officer asked as he stepped into the room. “Can we ask you a few questions?”

Melody jumped in. “She’s confused right now—the doctor said she has a concussion. Ian was driving.”

“We talked to the doctor, got an update,” the officer said, catching my attention. He was slim and had a very pretty face, making him look like a catwalk model and not a cop at all. The shorter, stocky officer remained by the door. 

“What happened?” I asked, wondering if it was all wrong in my head.

“We’re here to ask you that. Do you remember what happened?”

At first, music filled my head, but I pushed past that. My mind didn’t want to go back to the accident, but I remembered the panic, the oncoming traffic, the scene playing out silently for some reason. Oddly, I didn’t remember a crunch or the sound of screaming. Just getting flung sideways.

“Ian ran a red light, then slammed on the breaks. I yelled for him to move, but he wouldn’t. He just hung onto the wheel. Then I saw a truck coming at us, at me. It was coming so fast.”

“I heard she was texting,” Melody said quickly, again sticking up for me, but it made me wonder if I looked guilty. Was I in trouble? The tall office started to glance at his partner but simply nodded instead.

“She didn’t look up in time.” He explained the oncoming truck hit the back end of our car, spinning it. Then traffic coming from the other direction hit the driver side, where most of the damage occurred.

For a second, I could visualize the car, crumpled in on all sides. I suddenly felt very lucky that I wasn’t seriously hurt. How did Ian walk away? But he must be okay if he left the hospital. I shivered, thinking of his mother, Lucinda Warrant, who loved to blame me for everything wrong with the world.

“Do you remember what happened before that?” he asked. Did the police want to find out what I did to cause the accident? Did they know about the other accident?

If I lied, they would find out. Lucinda would tell them, and Ian was possibly using me as a scapegoat for this accident. Lying would only make this worse, and I couldn’t think fast enough to lie anyway.

“We were arguing, I guess. Not like yelling, but he was mad. I wanted to go on a trip without him and Ian didn’t like that. He has trouble being alone, ever since

The first officer finished for me: “Since his accident three years ago?”

They knew

“Accidents happen,” the shorter cop said by the door, his tone light, as if those two words could explain it all away. “You don’t remember what happened?”

I didn’t want to remember this accident or the one three years ago. I closed my eyes for  a second. The second stretched out and I heard Melody tell them about my concussion and how I needed to rest.

If accidents just happened, why did they happen to me so often? Why did I cause so many?

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Happy Valentine’s Day! (And a sneak peek from Sarah’s Song, my work in progress)

Romance is in the air! It’s also a great day for thinking of the special people in your life like your mom, sister, and friends.

After a long period of beautiful, sunny weather here in Oregon, we’re having a stormy, rainy day today. I don’t mind! It feels like a perfect writing or reading day by the fire. (And I just happen to have a new book out if you need one! Check out my home page for all the links.)

You’ve probably seen my posts about my Billionaire trilogy. I’ve also been working on another book. It’s highly emotional and that’s one reason why I’ve been working on it longer. I wanted to share a little from the opening of that book.

Here’s the blurb:

Sarah Austin never had a musical bone to her body…until suddenly she does. When her life is turned upside down, she finds herself turning to music, playing the guitar and writing songs. Half a world away, Michael Singer, lead guitarist and singer of Mystic Mist, can’t believe he’s hearing his band’s unfinished song from someone else. How did this American girl steal it? They both want answers for very different reasons.

(There’s so much more to this story, but I don’t want to give away too much, too soon!)

Chapter One – Something’s gotta give

Sarah

Eugene, Oregon, USA

“God, Sarah, I just wish you’d think about someone else for once.”

Ian’s words burned into me. Sliced into me. Filled me with rage – an emotion so sudden and new that I had no idea what to say. I clenched my fists in my lap and glared out the passenger window, not seeing the people milling around downtown Eugene. The silence inside the car rang loud and long.

Think about someone else? That’s all I’ve done!

I’ve spent the last three years thinking of him, taking care of him, putting my life on hold for him. Could I ever make up for my horrible mistake three years ago and make things right again? No, I knew better than that. But I only wanted to take a girl’s trip with Melanie, and actually spend some quality time with my one real friend. Was that so selfish?

He drummed his fingers on the wheel, fast, irritated. He had cracked his window, even though he knew it bothered my ears, and even the tires rolling on wet pavement sounded passive aggressive.

I had worked so hard to erase his pain, to make things right in his life, but they never got better. Really, things were getting worse. Maybe I had finally reached my breaking point.

“Time shouldn’t matter,” he added in a low voice, and the cold anger startled me. “Everyone thinks I should get over it, but what do they know? What do you know, Sarah?” He said my name like it was a dirty word.

A tiny whisper somewhere in my head asked, what about me? Do I ever get to move on? Hadn’t I paid enough?

I worked my jaw side to side to loosen the tension. “I never once said you should just move on. You know that. You know I’ve been there for you.” Like, every… single… day.

I couldn’t remember how to think about myself anymore. I just wanted a few days to breathe, to think. Honestly, I wasn’t sure what I needed to think about, but I just needed to step back from my life to see it. Right now, it all felt like a fog that I couldn’t escape, where I couldn’t really see anything clearly.

In the last few weeks, the trees started budding for spring. The earth was renewing; starting over. Some days, it felt as if everything else on this planet got a fresh start but I wasn’t allowed one.

Some other faint thought followed that one, but I couldn’t grab onto it. It tickled my mind so I couldn’t make it out. A memory? An echo of a dream? Maybe it was a song – I could almost hear it.

If you want to fly, I’ll let you fly away . . .

I know you were tired of running . . . I’ll let you fly

 The music was just out of reach. It felt like I was trying to remember something urgently important, something that would change everything. I wanted to pull it out of the mist and convince myself I wasn’t going insane.

“I can’t move on,” Ian said so low it took a few seconds for the words to register.

Half of me wanted to turn toward him and reassure him, but what could I say? ‘It’s alright, you don’t have to move on. We’ll stay in our apartment together, just us, and wallow in the pain.’

No. Maybe I didn’t deserve to move on, but I needed to. Wanted to. I wanted to go back to work and see people and live again. Instead of saying any of that, I continued glaring out my window, feeling my heart beat too hard.

He stopped at a light for a split second before stomping on the gas. I looked forward and gasped.

“Ian, it’s red.”

He slammed on the breaks. The car screeched to a halt right in the middle of the intersection, nothing in front of us.

“What are you doing? Don’t stop! You have to go.”

He gripped the wheel in both hands, staring forward. Horns blared at us. A car flew by from the right, inches from the front of ours. I looked in that direction. A giant sliver truck barreled toward us. Our car still didn’t move.

“Ian! It’s not stopping! You have to move!”

Why wouldn’t he move—

~~~

If you want to read more, you can follow the book on Vella where you can read the first 3 chapters for free and follow as new episodes come out. I’m having fun writing for this new platform but I know it’s not for everyone. This story will be released as an ebook later this year as well.

I hope you have a fabulous Valentine’s Day and week!

A little preview….

The Billionaire Who Bought Me

Ch. 1. Just a sleazy fake girlfriend for sale over here

Of course I didn’t want to, but did I have any choice?

I glanced at the text from my friend Jenna that read, “Zoe, are you sure you want to do this?”

She knew I needed a LOT of money to save my sister’s life and get my family out of financial trouble. Jenna was even the one who told me about this site in the first place. It was called Pay to Play and it allowed men to buy video time with women.

At first I was shocked she’d do something like that, but we had both struggled the last couple of years, and Jenna had two small kiddos to think about. She video chatted with men at night after her kids went to bed. She had a waitressing job in the mornings, but it wasn’t cutting it.

I had tried not to judge her. Actually, I was more worried than anything else. Then my little sister got sick. My parents put all their earthy assets into getting her the best care, trying to keep her alive until she could get a heart transplant. She was only fourteen. The stress got to my dad, and ironically, he had a heart attack. Then my grandfather died. We were drowning.

 So, yeah, I asked her about the site.

I needed a way to make money while still having time to be with my family and help them. She showed me the ins and outs of the site, how to avoid things I wouldn’t want to do, and then we noticed the ad.

It was listed under “In person, extended projects” so I shouldn’t have been looking there in the first place. The title read, “Fake GF for a few weeks.”

That didn’t sound that bad. The ad read:

“Looking for female companion, someone with little or no online presence or a high profile job. Not what you think but it pays very well. Six figures. Must be willing to travel, sign NDA, and take on assigned persona. Reply with your photo and current job. ”

I just had to go on a trip with this man? Pretty easy for one hundred thousand dollars. Not what you think. It could be a really old guy who wanted a nurse or a pretty lady by his side. I could be changing diapers or living it up like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. Who knew why he was doing this. I didn’t care. And I wouldn’t want to get to know him ‘for reals’—just for the job.

And besides, I could keep Jenna updated on my whereabouts to stay safe, if I actually secured a job like this. Maybe I could also download an app that would track my location and report it to Jenna and my family.

I clicked a link to see more about the man behind the ad. His level said Billionaire, but I wasn’t sure it they had to prove their income level. However, I knew he had enough extra money to pay for this project. That wasn’t a small chunk of change to just hand over.

He hadn’t included a photo or any personal information in the bio section, just a sentence: You won’t need to get to know me, just the character sheets for myself and you.

Hmm. Maybe he liked mystery and the power it gave him. This could be about a power rush, something outrageous that he could do simply because he had the money. Would he be mean?

I sent a text back to Jenna: It’s not always about what we want, is it?

Then I sent another text promising to put safeguards in place. My fingers shook, but I hit ‘reply’ to the ad and wrote:

“My name is Zoe Montgomery and I’m a home health nurse, although I also work a few hours in my family’s bookstore when I can. My last client recently died so I’m awaiting a new assignment. Attached please find my photo. I just joined this site so I’m learning how it all works still. Thank you for your consideration.”

Seriously? It sounded like I was applying for a librarian job, not some fake girlfriend ad.

“It’s just an application, Zoe,” I told myself, questioning if I had the looks and body for a job like this. I was a nurse who liked helping other people, and a bookworm who collected old fairytales. This billionaire would read my response and laugh, unless he wanted a naughty librarian?

But I had to look into every way possible to make money to keep Belina alive.

Every time I doubted if I could do this, a memory flashed in my mind in a series of images. It was almost a year ago now. At first I would see Bel smiling at me, tall oaks behind her with loads of green leaves shading the park.

Belina looks so much like me, just as I look like our mother: the same long dark hair, same long body, same long legs. We all share a wide smile and dark eyes that get shiny with happiness or anger.  

A flash, and the picture changed. Her smile fell. Her face went blank.

Another flash. She looked at me, her expression both blank and full of dread. I could see something was very wrong.

Another flash, her eyes rolled back, showing white.

And then she fell.

I raced to her, checking for breathing and a pulse. I’d been trained in CPR when I worked at the pool as a teenager, and then again in nursing school. Half of me screamed in panic, but that half was inside. On the outside, I went into action with chest compressions and breaths.

An ambulance came with squad cars and the fire truck, a normal response I guess.

Belina’s heart stopped three times that we know of. The doctor at the hospital said I’d saved her life but it wasn’t over. I just helped her fight for another day. We didn’t know that at the time, of course. But now I had a real chance to do something that would matter, that would make a real difference.

I shook myself from the memory, and shook off the acidic fear it always brought. When it happened, I took action. But when the memory comes, it stops me cold.  

My hand hovered over the keyboard. Then, I closed my eyes and tapped a fingernail on the enter key. Message Sent.

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