A New Review for Ravished by a Highlander by Paula Quinn

I was able to read and review Paula Quinn's latest release, Ravished by a Highlander which releases next month. I fell in love with Robert and Davina and I know you will too. Below s the blurb from Ravished by a Highlander and my review.


FORBIDDEN LOVE
Davina Montgomery is no ordinary English lady. For her own protection, she’s been locked away from society, her true identity the Crown’s most closely guarded secret. Until a shocking betrayal—and a bold rescue—land her in the arms of a fierce Highlander, a powerful warrior whose searing gaze and tantalizing touch awaken her body and soul.

UNDENIABLE DESIRE
As the firstborn son of a powerful Scottish laird, Robert MacGregor has no loyalty to the English throne, but he’s not the kind of man to leave a woman in distress, even if she is English. He vows to deliver Davina to safety, unharmed and untouched. Yet one stolen kiss leaves them both smoldering with desire… and desperate for more. With Davina’s secret threatening to destroy his clan, Rob must choose between everything he holds dear and the one woman he can’t live without.

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Ravished by a Highlander by Paula Quinn
Book #1 in The Children Of The Mist series
April 2010

Davina Montgomery has been in hiding for most of her life in an abbey called St. Christophers because of a royal secret. The nuns and a small army have been guarding her for as long as she can remember. Her life has never been her own because of a father she has never met. The abbey is burned to the ground by men who want her dead. Now, because of her secret innocent men and woman have died keeping her and her secret safe.

Robert MacGregor is the first born son of the Clan Chief of the MacGregors of Skye. Robert knows his father but his life has also never been his own. He has been raised to take over after his father passes so his life has revolved around the clan and its security.

Davina watches as the family she ever known is killed because of her. Edward Asher, the captain of the army that has been in charge of protecting her can’t hold out much longer against the soldiers meant to kill her. Robert is heading to England for King James coronation when he and his fellow highlanders come upon the devastation. Edward begs Robert to take her and keep her safe but won’t tell him why. Robert rescues her and promises to keep her safe but how can he when others have died trying? Both are duty bound to a life that has been chosen for them by birth but neither Robert nor Davina imagine their hearts would rule instead.

Ravished by a Highlander by Paula Quinn was an absolute roller coaster ride of emotions. Ravished is the first in the Children of the Mist series and what a great beginning it is too. Davina is a lady but is so much stronger than she looks. Living in the Abbey for all of those years can’t hide the maturity in her eyes. Her life has always been in danger and secretive but she has never let go of her dream of a real family. Robert is amazed by the small woman and how she puts herself before others time and time again. The more time they spend with each other the more they want to give up everything for a chance to make their own decisions even if it means a death sentence.

BLOOD WILL FREEZE by Tony-Paul de Vissage

BLOOD WILL FREEZE: A cautionary tale to cause further anxiety among those worried about the arrival of 2010.


It is July, 4012.

A summer exactly two thousand years after a comet crashed into the Earth, ironically in the year the Mayan calendar ends…2012. Out of the ensuing chaos, there are two types of survivors, humans—not so many of them but enough—and the Undead—ejected from their coffins deep within the Earth to a world frozen and gray. A world where the sun never shines and vampires may walk during daylight hours.

It doesn’t take long for the Undead to inherit the Earth. They now reign, fighting among themselves for the continents, dividing them to the strongest. Now, only two remain, Alixandra, empress of North and South America and a little more inhumane in her treatment of her mortal slaves, and Celadon, lord of Europe and Asia, deadly, unscrupulous, and a sociopath par excellence, murdering his way to the top of the nosferatic food-chain. Once lovers, these two are now bitter enemies, engaged in a struggle for ownership of the planet and its few surviving humans, their rapidly-dwindling food source. Alix takes her people to Mt. St. Helens, building a tower inside the volcano’s buried cone; there the heat will keep her little herd of mortals alive, With the aid of Michael, her virginal, mortal steward, only one of six children born in the last twenty-five years, Alix awaits Celadon’s attack. Alix trusts Michael; she also lusts after him, but the young man has the ability to ignore her enticements. He alone is free from mental slavery, because Michael is a Freeley, one of the rare human mutations born immune to the vampire’s enticements.

From the seed of Michael’s free will, rebellion has taken root. Yes, Michael is readying his people for the coming attack, assuring his Undead mistress of victory but it will be a victory neither Alix nor Celadon nor even Michael himself expects.

Blood will Freeze appeared in the February, 2009, issue of Sounds of the Night Magazine. It is available at http://www.genremall.com/zinesr.htm#soundsofthenight.


CONTEST: Answer the question and win Two Vampire Tales. Send your answers to: tpvissage@neb.rr.com.

QUESTION: Dracula is written in a first-person, journal style. How many narrators does the novel have and who are there?

Help Lorie O'Clare KEEP THE HEA IN OUR LIVES

One of my favorite authors has come up with a wonderful idea! So many people are losing their homes these days. Lorie O'Clare has started a fundraiser to help those that have found themselves in that situation. Help Lorie give others their HAPPY EVER AFTER!



HEA is a fund raiser program I’ve started (along with my accountant to make sure I do it right) to help those who are facing foreclosure. Recently I’ve heard the stories from a few good friends, people who have always worked hard, who have good kids, and who have put their sweat and blood into their homes over the years to make it nice for them. Times are hard. The programs available for those facing losing their homes don’t work for everyone. Please keep reading to learn how you can help!

Let’s do what we can to keep the HEA in our lives and ensure it always means HAPPILY EVER AFTER!

Many out there are in the same boat. Quite a few of those facing losing the home they’ve raised their children in, have loved and fought in, are too proud to admit they need help.
Will you help those who would leap to help you in a second? Offer a donation or buy a book, or several books. All money goes to help HEA!



Click on the home above to save it! Authors learn how you can donate. Readers learn how you can donate!

One way you can help is to donate cash. All donations are fully tax deductible. Donate any amount you wish. 100% of donations will go to help keep a family in their home.

Let's welcome Kenneth Weene today!

1.Did you always know that you wanted to be an author or did you have another dream?
As I kid I loved to read books, and I wanted to write; but I gave that dream up to pursue the “reasonable and responsible” goals of becoming a professional, in my case a psychologist.

I returned to writing about twenty-five years ago. At first I wrote a lot of poetry and some essays for local newspapers. Then the novels started to demand their way into my psyche.

2.How long did you write until you were finally published?
My poetry and a few professional papers were published right off, but the first novel took about twenty years during which time I’ve actually written three. In addition to “Widow’s Walk,” which came out in September, I have a contract for a second book, “Memoirs From the Asylum,” which should come out sometime next year. The third, a conspiracy novel, is still looking for its home.

3.When you sit down to write, is there a ritual you have to do before you start?
No ritual, in fact, I don’t even have a set place. Some of my writing is done at the computer, but I also go to the coffee shop or bookstore with my pencil and notebook. The one thing I do require is a handy cup of coffee or tea and the inspiration – that powerful yet elusive voice that suddenly puts word in motion.

4.Do you plan the story out or just let it flow?
I start with a plan, but then the characters take over. They tell their story through me. For example, the main love affair in “Widow’s Walk” wasn’t suppose to be about love; Arnie and Mary were supposed to have a mentor-student relationship, and Mary was supposed to meet another man. However, they fell in love; and there wasn’t much I could do about it. Another example from “Widow’s Walk” is the love relationship between Kathleen and Danny; that was supposed to end happily, but it didn’t work out that way.

I guess writing is like life: You can start with all kinds of plans, but you can never really know what fate will bring.

5.Do you have any WIP that you might want to share with us?
My next novel is “Memoirs From the Asylum.” It’s finished, and I have one contract offered. Let me share an excerpt from this new tragic-comedic novel.

Those dingy green-yellow hospital walls are really off-putting. It’s like living inside a puddle of puke. The people are the chunks of undigested food – no longer human just unidentified floating objects. Some of them are really revolting. The others, “the patients,” aren’t so bad.
Mostly, the diagnosed only want to be left alone – alone – caught between the grief of being and the terror of not. Once in a while there’ll be somebody who wants to fight the world, but mostly the world they want to fight is that revolting staff so you silently root them on. At least, that is how I see it.

Charlie wants to rape the nurse’s aide – good for Charlie. The nurse’s aide is twice Charlie’s size and has a right like Muhammad Ali – too bad for Charlie. Charlie ends up with an ass full of Valium – good for him. They lock Charlie on the violent ward – who the hell was Charlie?
Charlie comes back to the ward – good for Charlie. He’s had enough shock to fry his brain – too bad for Charlie. He shuffles along and drools; when he’s excited he shouts “Oh boy!” in a repetitive Tourette bark – now Charlie fits in. Good for Charlie? Nope, good for the system. Modern medicine has won another round. The world of the asylum grinds the people; it makes pabulum of their brains and mush of their wills. The system works; the person doesn’t. We all celebrate Charlie’s return by standing around and rocking from side to side.

Some of us stare at the television. There’s a soap opera on. The picture rolls. Nobody seems to notice. Certainly, nobody cares. Most of our minds are rolling, too. Half the staring patients are watching their own programs, the ones in their heads. Vertical hold is not a strong point among the crazy.

Jack wants to take over the world. He plans on leading a revolution; he plans to start in Australia. He stares at the television and sees troop movements. In his program, he is leading an army. He is riding on a large black horse and is dressed in fatigues. He carries a magic sword. A bit anachronistic, but what the hell, it’s his program. It doesn’t matter; he’s too doped on phenothiazines to walk across the room without being told. Instead he pill-rolls his fingers and shakes. They’re supposed to give out Cogentin for the Parkinsons, but the nurses don’t bother. Instead one of them sells the bottles in town. It doesn’t bring much, but they save up for their Fourth of July party. They could get more for other drugs. Valium is good on the streets, but they don’t get much extra; they’re too busy shoving it into us. Mostly they just unload Cogentin and some antibiotics. It buys them a case of beer to commemorate their freedom – to celebrate the all-important fact that they have the keys.

6.What character is more like your personality or is it a combination of more than one?
I draw on my own personality and on people in my life to develop characters, but in the end they all take on their own characteristics and ideas. Many people know me and have who have read “Widow’s Walk” think that I’m very like Arnie Berger; but I think I’m more like Jem, the very wise woman who is more in the background yet seems to know so much about life.

I love Jem’s comment toward the end of the book:

Jem shakes her head when she hears the coroner's findings. "I guess he don’t know much about souls," she observes. "There's pains of the body, and there's pains of the soul. This poor lady died of the pains in her soul. They say that God don’t give no one more than they can carry, but He sure done give her too much … way, way too much."

7.When you have a moment to sit down and breathe, what kinds of books do you read?
I enjoy almost all kinds of books. I’m a major history buff and biography. I will on occasion try to read in philosophy, science, and, of course, religion. Then there’s the fiction. I try to read at least one novel a month. I just finished Kawabata’s “The Sound of the Mountain.” I loved the way he related to nature. I can’t say that the story worked for me.

The next book on my pile – the pile of books I’ve put aside to read - is Gottlieb’s “The Dream of Reason.” However, I do have a couple of review books from friends that need a good look.

Last, I should mention that I read (and write) a good deal of poetry. Just for fun, I’ll share this short poem I wrote recently.

On viewing a picture of a dervish

The slow dignity of the dervish dance; the eternal mystery of the poet's chant: Allah be merciful to me, a lowly ant; cast down on me one sacred glance.

8.What author or authors inspire you to write the way you do?
I can list some of my favorite authors, but I don’t know that they really inspire the way I write. Kurt Vonnegut is one of my favorites. I love Conrad. Isaac Singer is another. Perhaps Steinbeck had the greatest impact on me when I was younger. And, no list, not even this partial one, is complete without mention of Chekhof and Kafka.

I think that there is a wonderful melding of external and internal worlds within the novels I like. What is attended to in the environment of the book is related to what the characters are experiencing. I don’t like extraneous description that is unrelated to the story and that is added for the sake of sounding literary. A direct, sparse and yet complete quality is what I strive for in my own writing.

9.Do you have any tips for those aspiring authors out there?
Write! Then write more!
Find friends with whom you can share, and don’t be afraid of the process of discussing your work.

Think about words. Choose with care. The best place to start that is with your speech; speak slowly and think about your word choices.

Write down ideas and overheard bits of dialog that intrigue you. Even jot a bit of description if there is a sight that captures you imagination.

Try to write poetry – real poetry, not just your own emotions but studies on metaphoric meanings. Writing is about symbols as much as it is about narration.

Now, write some more.

And, let me end with another excerpt from “Widow’s Walk.”

The paths along the banks of the reservoir are uneven. It takes all a jogger's concentration to keep from tripping and tumbling into Boston's water supply. That is probably why so many joggers have passed her prone body without noticing. It is only when one, glancing up at the sound of a scurrying animal, starts back in shock and lands on his seat that she is seen. "Oh, my God!" he exclaims as he scrambles back to his feet. “Oh, my God,” he repeats so taken aback that he doesn’t even notice the pain from his fall, “somebody get help. Somebody, anybody, for Christ’s sake, get help!”
Gingerly, as if he is approaching a dangerous animal, he inches his way towards her. "Miss, Miss. Are you OK?" His voice is at first a whisper, which grows louder and more tremulous.
Kathleen doesn’t stir.
"Miss!" He is shouting now. His wide eyes take in the scene. Her panty hose have been ripped off. They and her shoes are in a small tangled pile a few feet away. Next to them are her well-worn green parka, scarf, and dark green gloves with leather palms. The sheepskin hat with ear flaps that Karen had given her is tossed farther from her body. Kathleen’s plaid skirt has been ripped. It still clings to her waist but has been pulled up and now covers her torso rather than her legs and buttocks. Her head is turned sideways, and the jogger can see that there is a thin stream of blood still coming from her mouth and soaking into the ground next to her broken glasses.
He bends over her, afraid to touch. "Get help," he shouts into the frosty air – still to no one. They are alone. "For God's sake, get help," he repeats once more. He isn’t sure, but he thinks he sees her body moving ever so slightly. "Is she still alive, or is she dead?" he asks aloud in the frigid empty air. "Help!" he screams.
There is a handbag nearby. Instinctively he reaches for it. He can not bring himself to touch her body, but the inanimate handbag is less threatening. Its contents seem untouched. "Mrs. Dougan," he whispers to her. If yelling hasn’t worked, something in his brain tells him that softness might. "Mrs. Dougan," he tries again.
He is looking at an identification card that Kathleen carries in her wallet. Ironically, it is the one piece of identification on which she still uses her married name. It is her library card, something that she had stopped using once she had decided that her life would never move forward. At one time Kathleen had been an avid reader, but that had been when she thought it would still matter if she were to learn – that had been before it had seemed that her life had stopped.
Knowing Kathleen’s name makes her seem more alive. The jogger focuses himself enough to pull off the top of his jogging suit and use it to cover her upper body. Still he can’t bring himself to actually touch her, not even to adjust her clothing.
Kathleen makes no response. "Oh, my God," he exclaims again.
He hears the sound of another runner. Even though the trees are bare, the jumble of bushes makes it difficult to see. Jumping up from his crouched position near Kathleen’s head, the jogger waves his arms and yells, "Over here. I need help. Over here." He can hear the pace of the other runner quicken.

Kenneth Weene will be here tomorrow 12-3-2009

Kenneth Weene will be here tomorrow so in the mean time I thought I would give you a teaser.

Title: Widows Walk
Author: Kenneth Weene
Publsher: All Things That Matter Press



Blurb:
Mary Flanagan, caught between her sense of religion and obligation on one hand and her very human desire for love and life on the other, is in emotional limbo. When she meets Arnie Berger, who becomes both her lover and philosophic guide, Mary’s world seems to be transformed.
Changes also come for Mary’s children, who have been trapped in their own dilemmas. Sean, a quadriplegic, is looking for a fulfilled life. Mary’s daughter, Kathleen must cope with infertility and anger in her search for happiness.


The lives of all three Flanagans are turned upside down by happiness and tragedy.



Website:http://www.widows-walk.webs.com/
Facebook Page: http://www.facebook.com/kenneth.weenev=info&edit_info=all#/home.php?ref=home
Buy Link: https://www.createspace.com/3391435



Excerpt:
They continue their northern progress. Their objective is the outlet stores in Freeport, Maine. Arnie has always wanted to visit L. L. Bean. He has been buying clothes from their catalog for years. Even though, except for his army experience – as a clerk in a reserve unit – he has never spent any time in the woods, he has always fancied himself the outdoors type – whatever that might be. So he has bought flannel shirts and hiking boots, chino pants and parkas – and he has made his own fashion statement as he has wandered the bookstores and coffeehouses of Boston.


Occasionally a student will ask him about his love of the outdoors and his favorite activities. Arnie is always honest and self-deprecating in his responses. He talks about his PrestoFlame log fires and the books that he likes to read while sitting beside them.


The couple hasn’t thought to make reservations so early in spring so they have to continue on to Old Orchard Beach before they find an empty motel room. "If you're here for the shopping," the clerk offers, "the best time is around two or three."


“So, we’re too late?” May asks.


“Nope, too early. Two or three in the morning.”


"Why's that?" Arnie asks.


"Cause that’s when most of folks are in bed. You can get into the stores. Most times you can’t even get a parking spot. AAy-yup, Try the middle of the night. That’ll be best. Aay-yup!" His broad a accent makes this all seem normal and reasonable.


It hasn’t occurred to them that they will be among the thousands of people from along the east coast who will have flocked to Freeport on this lovely early spring weekend.


They follow the clerk's suggestion for a place to eat an early supper. It’s busy but friendly, and the fried clams and potatoes are excellent. Better, it seems to have more locals than tourists which pleases Arnie. After supper they take a walk along the boardwalk. It is still too cold for the attractions to be opened, but they’re able to buy a box of saltwater taffy. Each of them tries a piece and almost simultaneously take the pieces of candy out of their mouths.


“God, that’s awful,” Arnie observes.


“I’ll bet dentists love it,” Mary adds. “It could pull every filling out of my head.”


They go back to the motel. Having set the alarm clock for two and finding nothing of interest on the television, they turn out the lights and try to sleep. The last of the day’s sunlight is poking its way though the gaps in the curtains and around their edges. Bands of light fall across the head of the queen-size bed and others reflect from the full-length mirror to play on the fading floral print of the wallpaper. "We're not going to go to sleep," Mary observes.


"I guess not." Arnie kisses her ear and fondles her breasts. She reaches down and caresses his genitals.


"You're so beautiful," he whispers.


She never tires of hearing his compliments. Still she feels compelled, as she always has, to demur. "Oh, you just say those things."


Arnie rolls away from her and stares at the ceiling. He turns back and looks directly into Mary’s eyes. She is startled by the seriousness in his eyes. "Mary, I swear to you that in my eyes you are more beautiful than any woman in the world." He waits for her to say something, but she doesn’t – she has no idea what to say. Arnie continues, “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”


“What?” Mary isn’t sure what’s happening but knows that it’s important. There is a thin gasp of nervousness in her mind.


Arnie gets up from the bed and fumbles in his jacket pockets until he finds a small box. He kneels on the bed and thrusts it at her and gasps, “Will you marry me?”


“Yes, oh yes," she responds. Taken by surprise, Mary feels as if she is spinning – spinning and simultaneously soaring in joy.


Arnie takes the ring from its box. Mary holds out her left hand, and he slips the ring on to her finger. “It’s beautiful,” she croons. “It’s so beautiful.” She kisses him, gently with the sense that he is precious and fragile.


“Oh, Arnie, I’m so happy.” Her voice is full of joy and excitement. She feels her heart beating with happiness. She hugs him and showers his face with kisses.


“Believe me, I am, too!” Arnie manages to say in between her embraces. He wants to dance around the room, to shout with joy, to fly to the moon. Not knowing what to do with his excitement, he pulls Mary from the bed and hugs her tightly. Gently, he lays her back on the mattress. “I love you so much,” he says.


“Oh, I love you. I love you. I truly love you,” Mary responds with all her heart.


Arnie kneels next to her on the mattress and kisses her body in a hundred places. She giggles at the intensity of his kissing. “I want to kiss you forever, make love to you forever, be with you forever.”


Mary wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him on top of her. “Make love to me now,” she moans. “Make love to me now – now and forever.” Their hands, their mouths, their souls touch and caress. Mary can feel the rough softness of his penis as it gently pushes inside her. She can feel the thrusting of his pelvis as one with her own. She can feel the sudden excitation of their shared fulfillment. She can feel the total togetherness that makes them as the first couple in the Garden of All Love.


When they have finished, Arnie and Mary lay, in mutual exhaustion – two spoons nestled on the bed – Mary behind Arnie, Arnie closer to the window.


The only sound in the room is the buzz of the heating unit. Through the window and the cracks around the door, they can feel the cold air coming off the ocean. The last shreds of sunlight make their way through the curtained window. Mary watches Arnie's back slowly rising and falling with his breathing. She runs her index finger along his spine. Arnie shivers slightly at the sensation – it is the shiver of delight. "I love you Mary Flanagan."


"And I love you, Arnie Berger."


That is the last thing either of them hear until the buzzer wakes them in the middle of the night.

Let's welcome Tracey Cramer-Kelly today!

Tracey Cramer-Kelly was nice enough to stop by and answer some questions. So grab a cup of coffe and come sit with me while we read her answers. Please leave Tracey a comment or ask Tracey a question, she loves to hear from her readers.

1.Did you always know that you wanted to be an author or did you have another dream?
I think it’s good to dream about doing or being many different things—and its okay when those dreams change! When I was little I wanted to be a veterinarian. By the time I started college I wanted to be a physical therapist. During college I daydreamed about making singing my career! In the end, I got a business management degree and within a few years I had discovered my true calling as an entrepreneur (I’m on my third business, www.LeaderMotorcycle.com). Although I wrote during high school, I never considered it a “career opportunity” (and frankly, I still have no interest in writing full-time or trying to make a living at it!)

2.How long did you write until you were finally published?
Some of the scenes in Last Chance Rescue were written in 1998-99 (after I ran into an old acquaintance at my high school reunion, just as Brad does in my book!). But still it took another ten years for me to settle down to write seriously. By that time I had four novels in progress. Last Chance really came together after I did some ride-alongs with medevac and search-and-rescue. From the time I really honed in on Last Chance to actual publication was two years (my daughter was born 16 months into that time frame!).

3.When you sit down to write, is there a ritual you have to do before you start?
I don’t have a particular ritual, but I do need QUIET (easier said than done since I have two young children aged 2 and 6) and no distractions (i.e., no internet!).

4.Do you plan the story out or just let it flow?
I might have the main characters pretty well ‘cast’ in my head before I start writing, but the ‘contributing’ characters (and sub-plots) often develop as I write. Perhaps I end up writing more this way (and cutting!) but there’s no wrong or right way to write!

Here’s an example: at one point while writing Last Chance Rescue, the antagonist (Quinn) starting taking over the story. I had to ‘cut him off at the legs’ so to speak, because this wasn’t his story. I don’t know how many pages I cut, but he became so real (and human) to me that someday it would be interesting to write his story.

5.Do you have any WIP that you might want to share with us?
I’m currently working on my next novel, which is about a military officer’s harrowing experience at the hand of terrorists, and his personal journey to learn what is truly worth fighting for, and what True Surrender means. In a fun twist, the main character in this novel is actually Last Chance heroine Jessie’s ex-husband!

6.What character is more like your personality or is it a combination of more than one?
Because of my hobbies and my military background, I’ve had the fortune of meeting, working and playing with some very interesting people, and there are bits and pieces of them in my writing. Yes, there’s a healthy dose of imagination and plenty of creative license, but a seed has to be sown somewhere, and for me it is often a ‘human’ interchange. I made the heroine of Last Chance Rescue (Jessie) an Iraq war veteran and gave her some of the qualities I saw in my fellow soldiers/medics (and perhaps myself).

7. When you have a moment to sit down and breathe, what kinds of books do you read?
Lately I’ve been reading military memoir (as it pertains to the subject of my next novel) and the “Left Behind” series. I try to read, um…widely!

8. What author or authors inspire you to write the way you do?
I like books with complex, more adult characters (Nicolas Sparks comes to mind); I am particularly fascinated by how a male character may change/be changed by events/situations (a major theme in Last Chance Rescue as well). I like unusual settings, but not to the point of unbelievability (which is why I did ride-alongs with a medevac team before I finished writing Last Chance Rescue). My ‘pet peeve’ is a book with too much ‘headhopping’ (constantly changing points of view).

9. Do you have any tips for those aspiring authors out there?
Forget about writing what you know (that would be so boring for most of us!), but do your homework to make it as real as possible (but don’t get too carried away—it is fiction, after all!. Don’t write for a particular goal or market; write what makes your heart sing.

10. Do you have any links of where we can find you on the internet?
Yes, I’m on the Web!
http://www.lastchancerescue.com/
http://www.lastchancerescue.blogspot.com/

Tracey Cramer-Kelly will be here on 11-18-2009

Here is an excerpt from Last Chance Rescue by Tracey Cramer-Kelly to get you in the mood for tomorrow. It looks like a great book! Enjoy!

The helicopter shuddered and swayed as it lifted off the helipad. Instinctively Brad Sievers gripped the edge of the bench, willing his stomach to calm down.

The chopper was so full he could hardly move, and he felt overly warm and claustrophobic. Though he wore a headset, he could hear the Colorado air pulsing through the giant blades above.

Minutes ago he'd been terribly insistent about tagging along on this search-and-rescue mission; now he wasn't sure it was a good idea. What the hell am I doing? he thought. I'm in advertising, for Chrissakes!

"Okay, listen up," the team leader said.

The movement of the chopper was so foreign to Brad that he had difficulty paying attention. The team leader talked about the missing snowmobilers -- what they looked like, where they were last seen and probable scenarios. He threw out a lot of numbers -- coordinates, Brad realized later -- and assigned teams to what he kept calling quadrants. "And Jessie will take our ride-along in CHIPS," he finished.

Brad had known Jessie Van Dyke since kindergarten -- in fact, it was entirely possible he'd chased her around the playground in "kiss and tell" -- but they'd been only casual acquaintances through high school. He hadn't seen her in ten years -- until he showed up at their high school reunion in Minnesota just weeks ago, hoping to impress his old crush, Aimee Kinderbach -- who blew him off in the end.

He must have had a blank look on his face because Jessie said, "CHIPS is our medevac chopper. It's equipped with heat-seeking equipment, electronic mapping, medical equipment -- the whole nine yards. It's parked at our rendezvous helipad." She tugged on Brad's harness, adjusting the fit like another woman would adjust a tie.

They disembarked on a plateau that was in the middle of nowhere according to Jessie. Brad wouldn't have known it; the plateau was lit up like the Fourth of July, a line of snowmobiles idling to one side. A blast of cold air hit him, making him thankful for the jacket.

Jessie tapped his arm. "This way." She led him around the helicopter they'd just landed in. Behind it was the smaller helicopter, CHIPS. It, too, had its propellers going.

Jessie swung open the back door and plugged in her headset.

"Hey guys," she said. "We've got company tonight."

She indicated that Brad should take the rear-facing seat, and showed him where to plug in his headset. She introduced him to "Pilot Sam" and "Navigator Rick."

"Brad's been hanging out with us and couldn't resist sticking around for the real thing."

Jessie settled herself into the seat across from Brad.

A pair of lit-up computer screens in front of Rick caught Brad's attention. "How does that work?" As if in response to his inquiry, a voice came over the radio. "Checking all systems ... all teams power up."

Lights began blinking on the computer screen. "Every team has a transmitter as well as GPS on their radio," Rick explained. "We can track them from above and the mission coordinator can track them from the base site."

Brad found himself riveted to the lights on the screen as the teams responded one by one: "Ready on Alpha." "Ready on Bravo." "Ready on Charlie ..."

It took him several minutes to realize what the words meant. "Team names?"

Jessie nodded. "Based on the military alphabet. That was the team leader, Dan, calling for the ready-check."

Finally Rick spoke into his mouthpiece. "We have audio and visual on all teams. We are ready to rock and roll."

"Ditto on the ground," another voice said. "Move out!" The helicopter began to rise as snowmobiles passed it on the right. Out the rear window panel, Brad watched as the launch pad and snowmobile lights disappeared from view. "How do you know where to look?" he asked.

"Sometimes we don't," Rick said. "But in this case, we have fairly reliable information about where they are."

"If we didn't, we may have been put on standby until the ground teams found them -- or first light," Jessie said.

"Or if the weather was really crappy," Rick added.

"Here. Make yourself useful." Jessie was holding something that looked like a cross between binoculars and 3-D glasses. "They're night-vision goggles."

Brad wasn't sure what he was looking for but it felt better to be contributing, so he strapped the goggles on and peered out the window at the ground below. His thoughts drifted to the woman across from him…

Their chance encounter at the reunion had stuck with him after he returned to his new job in Dallas. He tried to forget the way she touched his lapel when she said, "I never would have guessed you for advertising; I didn't think that would give you fulfillment." And the way her eyes searched his when she teased him about being shallow.

And then he lost his job.

And the self-doubt -- was he the reason they'd lost the account? -- started eating at him. He'd been drinking himself to devastation every night, but it hadn't made him feel any better. If anything, that brief conversation with Jessie came to mind more often. So, on a half-drunken whim, he'd driven from Dallas to her home state of Colorado, intending to put her "shallow" comment to rest.

But the conversation didn't go the way he'd envisioned it ...

"Team Foxtrot has a visual." The voice cut into Brad's thoughts, jarring him back to the present. He wasn't sure how long they'd been flying.

"Cannot confirm it's our target," the voice continued. "We'll check it out."

"Are we close enough?" Sam said.

Rick was studying a map on one of the computer screens. "That's southwest of us about 20 miles," he said. "If it's not legit, we can circle back easily and still cover prime terrain."

It was Sam's turn to radio. "CHIPS to back up Foxtrot." He swung the chopper around.

"Affirmative, Chips II."

"Who's on Foxtrot?" Rick asked.

"That would be Micah and Ryan," Jessie said. Brad had just had a long conversation about stock car racing with Ryan, a young Vietnamese-American who was full of jokes.

Fifteen minutes later Rick said, "We're coming up on Foxtrot."

"They look stationary," Jessie said. "I have a visual on their objective ... looks like a wreck, all right."

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