A week ago I
had the opportunity to participate in a Zoom video conference as part of the
Virtual Book Festival. It was a
gathering of several authors where I was in the spotlight. This was a great deal of fun and we shared a lot of
laughs.
I talked
about naming characters and how Jefferson Chene came to be. We discussed
outlines and my refusal to use them. I had the chance to share details about
all five of my novels, along with the short story (novella) “Stealing Haven”
which is part of the “Once Upon A Summer” collection through Inkspell
Publishing.
One author asked about doing research and if I had a memorable experience. I explained about an interview with Holly, a young lady I knew who was a fitness instructor. She described many different programs, but her favorite was teaching...pole dancing classes. As a form of exercise. The one instruction she gave her students was related to the fact that everyone will end up on the floor. "The key", Holly said, "was to Get Up Sexy!" Of course, that ended up in "Vanishing Act".
Diana, the
host of the show, then asked about my latest project. I described “Don’t Mess
With the Gods” which is due to be released later this summer (perhaps August)
as part of an anthology through Inkspell. What really got the attention of
Diana and the others was the one-two punch.
One, this was a paranormal/romance story, which is a genre I’ve never
tried before and Two, this was co-written with Elle Nina Castle. The group was intrigued by the project,
especially since Ms. Castle and I collaborated on this entire novella without
ever meeting.
You can see
the entire interview on Youtube. Just click the link here.
In concert
with the Book Festival, which will run the month of June, “Devious” the first
novel in the Jamie Richmond series, is on sale for just 99 cents. That’s right.
You can get an e-book version of this mystery/romance for less than a buck.
Here’s an
excerpt from the story. In this scene,
Jamie is riding along with Kleinschmidt (Smitty), a state trooper, to get
research on a character for her next book. That’s when things go sideways.
Suddenly, I saw a flash of light and
heard a muffled bang. Smitty pitched onto his back, his right hand clawing
feebly at his holster as a loud roar reached my ears. The door of the truck was
still open, a brown arm extended beyond the edge of the spotlight. A gun was
clutched in the gloved hand. I watched in horror as the trigger was pulled back
for another shot.
Everything that happened next must
have been instinct. Or maybe it was merely a reaction. Or dumb luck. Or the
Force. Yeah, maybe it was the Force. I don’t think I’ll ever know for sure.
I reached across and pounded on the
horn with one hand, flipping the buttons Smitty had used to activate the siren
with the other. The sudden noise startled the driver. His arm jerked back into the cab and the door
slammed. Spraying stones and dust behind, the truck lurched onto the road and
raced away.
Fumbling the microphone off the dash,
I thumbed the button. "Kleinschmidt has been shot! Send an
ambulance!" I dropped the microphone and managed to get my door open. The
frame around the window clipped my forehead and knocked me back a step.
I'd forgotten to turn off the siren
and its wail was splitting my eardrums. “Idiot,” I muttered, “stay calm.” This was easier to say than it ever was to
do.
Reaching back inside, I switched the
siren off then rushed around to the front of the car. Smitty was lying on his back on the edge of
the road. Blood soaked the gravel beneath him. His eyes were closed, but I
could see his chest moving.
I dropped to my knees beside him.
"You're going to be okay, Smitty. I called for help."
"Shot by a dog," he
whispered. Kleinschmidt opened his eyes weakly. "First aid kit in the
trunk. Stop the bleeding." His voice was fading so fast I had to press my
ear above his mouth. I got a whiff of grilled onions.
What if the truck came back? What if they were waiting right now, just
beyond the reach of the spotlight, waiting for me to get close so they could
kill Smitty? And kill the witness too? I cringed. They wouldn’t need to shoot
us, just drive right over us with that truck. My imagination was running away
with possibilities.
With a shake of my head, I chased
such thoughts away. I ran back to the car. I dropped the keys three times after
getting them out of the ignition before finally jamming the right one into the
trunk lock. There was a white metal box with a red cross on it. I lugged it back to Smitty and knelt beside
him. Where the hell was that ambulance?
There were latex gloves inside the
kit on top of all the equipment. I pulled them on and rummaged through the
contents. I found some large sterile gauze pads and some medical tape. Somehow
I managed to crudely tape the gauze to each side of his shoulder. The bullet
had entered through a small hole just beneath the collarbone on his right side.
The exit wound looked bigger than a golf ball.
"You're going to be all right,
Smitty." I don't know if I said this for his benefit or mine.
He groaned and closed his eyes again.
I didn’t know what else to do. I’d called
for help. I’d patched him up. There was no way I could move him. But I didn’t
think I was supposed to anyway. I thought he was still breathing, but I wasn’t
sure. Closed eyes meant death. I was
sure of it.
I rocked forward and slapped his
cheek. Hard. "Don't you die on me!" I screamed.
His eyes fluttered open.
My limited medical knowledge flashed
through my mind—coma, shock, heart attack, trauma, tonsillitis. I had no idea
what else to do for him. Where were the professionals? They should have been
here already!
My eyes kept flicking from Smitty’s
face, to his wound, to the direction the truck had taken. Suddenly I heard the
sound of a siren. Then another joined in. I swiveled my head, trying to find
them. Another groan escaped Smitty’s lips. My eyes searched his body for signs
of life. I thought it was too late.
The siren sounded close now. I
glanced up as the ambulance and another patrol car arrived.
"What the hell took you guys so
long?" I shouted as they rushed to us. The paramedics rudely pushed me
aside and bent over Smitty. I was about to kick one guy squarely in the ass
when someone grabbed me from behind and lifted me off the ground. I was carried
back to Smitty's car, struggling all the way. Finally, they sat me down on the
hood. My eyes focused and I recognized
Sergeant Malone.
"Relax, Jamie. Let the paramedics
do their job."
I was exasperated. How could he be so
calm when one of his own men lay there wounded?
"He could be dead by now, Malone. He's been lying there bleeding
for over an hour."
"It hasn't been an hour. It's
only been three minutes." Malone tried to smile but it never reached his
eyes.
"Three minutes?"
"Three minutes. Your call came
in two minutes after Smitty radioed in his position. His report was logged in
at ten-fourteen. Your call was at ten-sixteen. It's now ten-nineteen."
"Three minutes?" I
repeated.
Buy Links:
https://books.apple.com/us/book/devious/id1059428211
June is also
AudioBook Month.
Both of the Jefferson
Chene novels are available on Audible. Here are those links.
“Why 319?”
“Your Turn to
Die”
Music this week comes from John Mellencamp
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