Tess Copeland lives a quiet life in Gatlinburg, Tennessee. Thanks to the government’s witness protection program, she enjoys the freedom of never having to glance over her shoulder to see if someone is following her. Life has become safe, serene...and boring. Her heart longs for something more than just existing...until a ghost from her past shatters her serenity.
Once upon a time, Tess was caught between the FBI and the men the feds were trying to take down. Jake Coleman is the U.S. Marshal who extracted her from the jam she was in with the FBI, a man she could have fallen for...hard...if she had let herself. It’s been a year since she last saw Jake, and in all the months that have passed, he’s never tried to find her. The longer he keeps his distance, the more she wonders why his absence hurts so much.
When a stranger comes to town searching for her, all of Tess’ old fears are resurrected. Asking Jake for help with her current crisis might lure him into a dangerous trap involving murder, kidnapping, and revenge. When Jake and Tess come face-to-face with the past, they will have to use all their wits to survive.
Once upon a time, Tess was caught between the FBI and the men the feds were trying to take down. Jake Coleman is the U.S. Marshal who extracted her from the jam she was in with the FBI, a man she could have fallen for...hard...if she had let herself. It’s been a year since she last saw Jake, and in all the months that have passed, he’s never tried to find her. The longer he keeps his distance, the more she wonders why his absence hurts so much.
When a stranger comes to town searching for her, all of Tess’ old fears are resurrected. Asking Jake for help with her current crisis might lure him into a dangerous trap involving murder, kidnapping, and revenge. When Jake and Tess come face-to-face with the past, they will have to use all their wits to survive.
The late afternoon sun warmed my face as I trudged down the street toward the trolley stop. The atmosphere held the pleasant promise of fall and color. I arrived in Tennessee last year just as the trees were turning gold, crimson, orange, and yellow, a gorgeous autumn. I hadn’t yet had the chance to indulge in a trip into the mountains, something I longed to do, but I didn’t own a car. That’s why I had to bum a ride to work every morning. The trolley didn’t start running until eight, sometimes ten, depending on what time of year it was.
Autumn had turned to a hard winter last year. The necessities of settling into a new life had consumed my waking moments until the first hard freeze. The ground had frozen and so had my heart. That’s when my thoughts had turned toward Trevor again. Snowbound landscapes always reminded me of him. His memory heated my core, and I wished with all my heart he hadn’t left me cold.
I missed him, missed him like crazy. As good as I was at running, he was even better at leaving. The last time was more than I could take, and I’d asked my handler to move me out of Arizona. No, more like begged him to send me somewhere else—anywhere Trevor would have a hard time finding me.
We were no good for each other.
I’d had too many men in my life tell me they cared only to take what they wanted and then leave me with nothing but loneliness and pain. My relationship with Trevor had developed so fast, and I had assumed he was no different than any other man.
I was wrong.
He was different, but his differences were not enough to keep him by my side when he had the urge to indulge in adventure wherever he could find it. He was a private investigator, a bounty hunter, and a solver of mysteries, and he couldn’t be tied to one spot too long. When I first went into witness protection, he stayed three months with me in Tucson and then one night he left without saying goodbye. I ranted and raved, then settled down into being a single, pseudo-mother for Joyce, my sister’s child. When Trevor had showed up at my front door four months later, I let him in, hoping he was back to stay.
I was wrong again.
I pulled my mind back to the present. With the advent of spring, my heart had thawed a bit. Then right before tourist season kicked in, I took the job at Sadie’s. Summer kept me hopping from one Hiker’s Breakfast Plate to the next with no time to dwell on what pained me. Autumn had made an appearance after the last cold snap. My favorite season. This year, the expectation of crisp days and cold nights failed to cheer me. All the vibrancy drained from me when I recalled the police officer at the stoplight and the icy cold stare as his eyes met mine across the roadway.
What was Iverson doing here? How had he gotten another job in law enforcement?
I glanced over my shoulder. No one trailed me down the street. At least, I didn’t think so. Was that man staring at me? Did that car slow as it passed? Was there a hint of malice in the air?
Want to know a little bit more about Denise? She's a Southern girl who has lived in Louisiana all her life, and yes, she has a drawl. She has a wonderful husband and two incredible children, who not only endure her writing moods, but also encourage her to indulge her writing passion. Besides writing romantic suspense, she enjoys traveling, reading, and scrapbooking.
Accounting is a skill she has learned to earn a little money to support her writing habit. She wrote her first story when she was a teen, seventeen handwritten pages on school-ruled paper and an obvious rip-off of the last romance novel she had read. She's been writing off and on ever since, and with more than a few full-length manuscripts already completed, she has no desire to slow down.
Guest Post
What Does Finding My Voice Really Mean?
For me, finding my voice was one of the hardest literary concepts to wrap my head around. For a long time, I had the idea that my voice was that element of my writing that uniquely defines my work. Any one of my books will read like my writing, no matter if the story is dark or if it is light-hearted. I have a particular way I string sentences together, use punctuation, or reveal characterization. My word choices are peculiar to me. My narrative voice isn’t like anyone else’s.
But one day I had one of those “ah-ha” moments. Not only does voice refer to a writer’s style, but it can also refer to the persona of the main character, particularly when a book is written in first person. In this case, voice is what makes the character unique, those distinctions of speech, mannerisms, and thought patterns that define the character. A twenty-year-old college student should not have the same voice as a forty-year-old police detective.
I love writing in first person because when done well it is intimate, drawing the reader deep into the main character’s mind. Some books easily lend themselves to first person. I’ve written in first person when I wanted my main character to be an unreliable narrator or when I wanted the reader to only see events through the main character’s perspective. I’ve found first person to be particularly effective in suspense that has a strong psychological element.
Writing in first person can be tricky. If the writer is going to draw the reader deep into her character’s persona, she better make sure what she reveals through the character’s speech, internal narrative, and actions is consistent with the personality she’s developed. A writer must know her main character better than she knows herself. Readers notice inconsistencies.
One of the biggest risks in writing first person is the inclination to tell the reader everything rather than show the reader what’s happening through action and dialogue. A story is richer and more powerful when the reader is shown how the character reacts rather than told the character has reacted.
Every detail of the story must be filtered through the first person narrator’s perspective—what the character sees, hears, tastes, smells, hears, feels, or thinks. A first person narrator can only speculate or assume what other characters are thinking or feeling. This can be difficult when writing the romance genre. Romance is emotional. Readers expect to feel deeply both the hero and the heroine’s feelings. That means the hero is going to have to do a lot of talking and a lot of displaying of his emotions. He can’t be reticent, mysterious, or moody unless he tells the heroine why he’s acting that way. A romance reader needs to know why the hero and heroine are falling for each other.
Since staying in the point of view character’s mind limits the reader’s perspective, first person gives me greater flexibility in developing plot twists. What the first person narrator doesn’t know, the reader doesn’t know. I’ve found the best way to determine if a story would work well in first person is to “test drive” it. Write the opening both ways and see which one supports the plot the best. I enjoy writing from such an intimate perspective, but I also choose carefully which stories I write in first person.
October 13 – Chick Lit Plus – Review
October 14 – A Blue Million Books – Q&A & Excerpt
October 15 – What Shall We Blog About Today – Excerpt
October 15 – Chick Lit Club Connect – Guest Post
October 16 – Doorflower – Guest Post
October 17 – Ai Love Books – Review
October 20 – Jersey Girl Book Reviews – Review, Guest Post & Excerpt
October 22 – A Cup of Tea and a Big Book – Review, Guest Post, Q&A & Excerpt
October 23 – Kelly's Nerdy Obsession – Guest Post & Excerpt
October 23 – What’s Beyond Forks – Review, Guest Post Q&A & Excerpt
October 24 – Storm Goddess Book Reviews – Review & Excerpt
October 27 – The Book Obsessed Mama – Review & Excerpt
October 27 – Ski-Wee’s Book Corner – Review
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