when one thing leads to another

Lately I've been sharing mostly excerpts from my historical novels, but I have a lot of contemporary also. I've always mixed it up between today and yester year. 

This clip is from a book that was based in Arizona and introduced a secondary character who ends up having his own book down the road. David Bannister's coming to Nogales will change the course of his life. When I first met him through his interaction with Jake Donovan, I knew only that he was an agent-- and good at his job. And Jake knew only that this agent was good at using people to get what he wanted. They ended up in what I call a bromance (and something I much enjoy writing-- strong friendship between two men who are equals).

Next week I'll use an excerpt from the book where David heads to Oregon to solve a murder but more than that... Never mind, more on that next week. Today this is from Desert Inferno.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     Bannister opened his wallet and flipped an identification card to the front. He watched as Donovan read the name of the agency for which he worked.

     "Hmmm I heard of you boys. Kind of a secretive bunch."

     "We don't like publicity.”

     "So what are you doing in Nogales? Wouldn't think we'd have anything big enough down our way to bring you here."

     "A body." Bannister folded his long body into one of the chairs across from Jake.

     "Any particular one in mind?"

     "Winston Joseph Franklin, 55 years old, late of New Jersey. Very recently dead... Found west of here."

     "You have my interest."

     "I thought I might."

     "You got out here fast," Jake observed, putting his boots up on his desk and lighting a cigarette.

     "I was here. Mr. Franklin was a fence, a very exclusive fence."

     Jake raised his brows.

     "On a plea bargain over another charge, he had agreed to do a little job."

     "So little it cost him his life?"

     "We lost track of him until we heard about your dead guy."

     "Inconvenient—for him," Jake said, smiling thinly.

     "To say the least," Bannister agreed with his own sardonic smile. “Basically this sets our work back to zero, which is unpopular with my boss."

     "What was the job?" Jake asked, studying the handsome face of the agent. If the man had an imperfect feature on his face or flaw to his physique, Donovan couldn’t see it. For some reason that irritated him. He definitely didn’t like this guy.

     "Smuggling Mexican antiquities."

     "Say what?" Jake asked, drawing cigarette smoke deeply into his lungs before he expelled it.

     Bannister grinned. "The Mexican government has been more than a little upset to find some of its most important historical artifacts and treasures disappearing. Most likely across the American border. The most recent incident was last month. A truck, heading for a Mexico City museum with Olmec and Toltec pottery, jade figurines, masks and several ritual vessels, disappeared."

     Jake snorted. "Wait a minute with all the drug trafficking, the illegal immigration, possible terrorist bombs, and you guys are worried about frou-frou? You have to be kidding?"

     Bannister’s expression told him he was not. "We got into it at the request of our government and the Mexicans. Rather than make an international incident out of it--especially since so little is provable at this point--they asked us to find out."

     "Trinkets are worth murdering someone?"

     “It’s a lot more than that. It’s a national identity, many hundreds or even thousands of years old. If that doesn’t do it for you, their worth can easily be into seven figures. Multi-millions for the overall operation. Collectors will pay anything to acquire such rare treasures. When an assemblage like this disappears into private collections, it rarely surfaces. The case became more personal when three months ago we lost one of our guys." Bannister's face hardened; the pretty-boy look was replaced by a hard, seasoned expression, that of a capable, rugged man. "We'll get whoever did it. You can put money on it."

     Jake shook his head, still having a hard time believing the scenario. "You really believe this is all over pottery?"

     "Any operation is a mix but yes, this went from drugs to antiquities.”

     “And that’s worth murder?” he asked disbelievingly

     “There are those who kill for a lot less.”

 

Going Home

The weeks before a book comes out get a little crazy. There is the final edit-- one hopes, and writing of blurbs-- multiple writing of blurbs. Frankly it leaves my partner and me a little zoned out. Add to it that this is lamb and beef marketing time-- not a favorite for me but necessary. It'd be easier if we were more tolerant of feedlots and auctions. We are not. We want to sell direct or to someone who has an empathy with the animals. That takes more work and more craziness. It has to be done though as a rancher who sells no livestock soon is running a desert with starving animals.

On the writing and publishing end, this has been a crazy year. The poster above shows three historicals that are not yet out-- Lands of Fire and Bound for the Hills (#6 & #7 Arizona historicals) and Love Waits (#4 Oregon historical). 

This turned out to be a rather unusual year for how the books went. It seemed to grow in a rather organic sense-- at least that's what I'd like to think.

Having put off bringing out the Oregon historical series, written over a span of many years, I had decided, once I found the perfect image for its first cover, to bring all four out in 2015 at spring equinox, summer Solstice, fall equinox and finally winter Solstice. If I had stuck to that, the year would've been easier, but something else came along.

In late 2014, I got the idea for a novella--an elder romance, Rose's Gift. Rose and Ollie had each been in several of the earlier Arizona historicals. She was married. He was a dedicated bachelor. Her husband had died before Arizona Dawn. Still I hadn't really thought of these two together-- and then it was so obvious that nothing would do but to write their story. I had the rough draft done by Christmas but with multiple edits and all, it didn't come out until January 31, 2015. That was no conflict with the Oregon historical due out March 21st. It didn't even require writing another in the Arizona series-- except...

Holly Jacobs was introduced in Arizona Dawn and again in Rose's Gift with the idea of eventually writing a romance that centered around prehistoric ruins, archaeology, and reincarnation. I needed a hero, and he had been in one of my earlier books and a short story. Hero, heroine and a plot. I couldn't turn away from it.

The writing went smoothly although, I was by then promoting the first Oregon historical-- that has to start a month before a book comes out-- and continues on a long time after it. I could have let Echoes from the Past set for a year, I suppose, but I didn't. I brought it out August 5th... and then, well it turned out the hero had two other brothers, who needed their own love, and...

I won't go on with this as I am sure you can see how this thing snowballed. Writing has a way of doing that. So this has been the year of Oregon and Arizona historicals and not sure I will ever do something like it again. It was fun, if a little confusing for readers maybe.

If you have been following the Oregon historicals and read its excerpts, that book came out yesterday. Its paperback will be available sometime this week. Going Home.

With the blurbs mostly written, I am onto editing the sixth Arizona historical, which was a story I really liked writing (of course, if I don't like them, I don't write them). There really is no end in sight to the work-- not for awhile anyway.

more controversial than I figured...

When writing Going Home, I knew I was taking on some controversy when I had my hero fight for the South. This also is the most multicultural book I have written with secondary characters who are Chinese, Jewish, Native American, and half black and half white. What I did not expect was my own country again to be debating the causes of a war that was fought from 1861 to 1865. This was a war though that tore a nation apart and the healing didn't happen quickly even in far off places like Oregon. 

My hero, Jed, faced more than those who hated anyone who fought for the South. Eastern Oregon was caught up in another Indian War-- The Snake War was one of Oregon's most violent. This clip has three men discussing the current and previous situation. They sat on a porch in Eastern Oregon as night made them reflective.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Excerpt from Going Home:

“Part of my crew are two Warm Springs,” Jed said as he watched the smoke rise. The moon had just come up and was casting an eerie glow on the other men’s faces. He supposed his also. “I wonder if they will feel safe to return.”

“They might not want to leave their people,” Rand agreed. “The Snakes aren’t any friendlier to peace loving Indians than they are to whites. Right now they want to wipe any sign of us from their land.”

“Again,” Adam said, “I understand how they feel, but I’d have to kill them also to keep my own safe and protect my land. I wish there was a better way for men to resolve their differences.”

Phillips looked then at Jed, met his gaze. “Sometimes there isn’t and yet here we are, sipping a whiskey, smoking, when a year ago, Jed and I would have been trying to kill each other. Rather ironic, isn’t it.”

“You expect the Indian conflicts could end up the same way?” Jed asked with a touch of disbelief even if he wished it to be so.

“Once there is a clear victor.”

“You expect there will be,” Jed said laconically.

“Eventually. Hard feelings or not, this is a problem of land. It seems unlikely to be settled short of a lot of dying. I may not like it, but it’s how the world has always operated. The military tries to make peace but again and again it’s undermined by those who want control. What do you do about that?”

“Peace is found in a cemetery and sent there with a bullet,” Jed said with some bitterness. Two of his brothers had paid the ultimate price as they had tried to secure their land. Just because it had always been that way didn’t mean it should.

 

Going Home in pre-release

 Because Going Home is my new historical romance, it gets the lion's share of my time for writing blurbs and other notifications regarding what it's about and why it will be of interest. The eBook is released 9/21/15, but can be ordered by clicking on the link at a sale price of $2.99 (it'll be $3.99-- 9/22/15).

Going Home

is the third Oregon historical. The Civil War has just ended. The Stevens family (from Books 1 and 2) is pretty well settled in the Willamette Valley (well, except for Belle). Their life though is about to make a major change. 

One drawback to a pre-order is the reader can't read the sample. So I am going to put the beginning here.

Excerpt:

June 1865 Portland, Oregon

     Raine Stevens, along with the rest of the cast, walked from the wings to stand in the lights at the front of the stage. They took their bows, as the remaining gaslights were brought up to illuminate the auditorium. A sense of accomplishment filled her, as the audience rose to give them and Kirk Edmonton’s exciting play a standing ovation. Even a few bravos rang out. She smiled at her mother, step-father, sister, and brother-in-law in the first row.

    Russell Grayson walked up the aisle with a large bouquet of red roses, but her gaze was drawn from him to the back of the auditorium. A man, taller than those around him, stood watching her. His features were sharp. Tawny hair hung almost to his shoulders. He resembled, but no, he couldn’t be Jed Hardman.

    To clear her head, she looked back at Russell, who was now at the edge of the stage. It wasn’t the first time she had been wrong in thinking she’d seen Jed. She knelt to take the roses from Russ. Smiling, she thanked him and rose, clasping them to her breast. At the back of the large hall, people were beginning to stream out the doors. There was no unusually tall man among them.

    Half an hour later, in her dressing room, her mother helped her out of her elaborate gown. With its layers of lace and silk, she would only wear something like it in a play. In slips, she sat at her dresser to wipe off the heavy stage makeup, while sipping from a glass of water.

    “You’ve never given a finer performance,” her mother said. “I should have brought Eli.”

    “And Laura,” Amy added with a nod of agreement. “They would both have enjoyed it. They’re old enough now.”

    “There will be other opportunities,” Raine said, as she slipped into a simple, yellow dress and waited as her mother buttoned up its back. She felt full of nervous energy but was unsure how much was from the completed run of a play or those few seconds when she thought she had seen Jed.

    “I liked your character,” Amy said. “She was strong and willful, funny too. This is the first time I’ve seen you carry off comedy. I can’t recall the writer’s name, but he managed to insert humor into pathos. True genius to make an audience want to laugh and cry at the same time.”

    Raine perched on the edge of her dressing table and drank more water. “The playwright is Kirk Edmonton.”

    “Was he in the audience?” Amy asked.

    “He came opening night and seemed satisfied with how it had gone. He wasn’t here tonight. I agree about his gifts. His dialogue flows, feels real and yet as you said, can be funny and sarcastic. No wasted words. I always believe in his characters-- like in how he gave depth to Sadie and also the man she finally chose for her own.”

    “Well, you knew she’d get her way.”

“They don’t always, those strong, willful women,” Raine said with a smile. “I should do a tragedy next time-- just to show the other side.”

    “And then at least my daughter won’t be coming,” Amy retorted. “She isn’t ready for more life complexity than needful. When our neighbor, Eunice died, it was upsetting for her, had her questioning life and meaning. She was more aware than the younger ones.”

    “All right, no tragedies for now.” She didn’t need them either.

    “How is Fanny doing?” her mother asked.

    “I haven’t seen much of her since she came back from Eunice’s funeral,” Raine said brushing out here hair. “She is busy, living the life to which she was born, a large staff, a home to manage, causes to support, clubs to join. It was a huge loss to her though. No one will ever support her emotionally as much as her mother did.”

    “I thought we might see her and Horace tonight.”

    “They also were at the opening. The whole time we chatted, Fanny was trying to talk him into taking her to San Francisco for shopping. She’s finding our stores less than exciting now that she has more money to spend.”

    “They say familiarity breeds contempt,” Amy teased.

    “I will not take offense... or try not to. I do what I can to keep my stores up to date-- with new styles for the ladies as well as the home. Some people though cannot be satisfied unless it came from a city more exciting than Stump Town.”

    “There are those who love the excitement of big cities,” her mother agreed and then sighed. “I wish Belle lived closer, could see you in these plays. It disappointed me when, after college, she settled in Chicago—of all places. Why on earth there?”

    “Perhaps you should visit her and ask.” Pleasing parents wasn’t that easy in Raine’s experience. Her mother would like her living in Oregon City, but Portland was her home. While it might not yet be as cosmopolitan as San Francisco or Chicago, someday it would.

    “She would no doubt be no less evasive than she is in letters,” her mother said with that expression which told Raine she was thinking about more than she was saying. “But you are right, it’s not my business. Besides, whenever I’ve suggested visiting, she writes that she’ll be gone but will let me know a good time. She has yet to give me one.”

    “Family has never mattered that much to Belle,” Amy said, not hiding her disapproval.

    “That’s not all her fault,” Raine said, trying to be fair. “Being so much younger, she probably felt she grew up without the kind of closeness you and I enjoyed with only being a year apart.”

    “I give up, oh mighty peacemaker,” Amy teased. “Let’s forget her. Maybe next time we can talk St. Louis into coming with us. He complains that cities aren’t for him, can’t stand crowds, but he’d be so proud to see you in a play like this one—once he came.”

    “How is he?”

    “Feisty as ever.”

    “Good,” Raine said with a grin. “I’ll be up river soon anyway and will try to see him then.”

Listening to Amy and their mother talk about the children, the trip downriver on the steamboat, her mind was elsewhere and on those few seconds she had thought he was watching her. She had never told her family about Jed. Why would she, since there had been nothing to tell? Certainly nothing, she’d want them to know regarding her foolishness.

Maybe her feelings were tangled up in the Civil War finally ending. After Lee surrendered, she had thought maybe, if he had survived the fighting, he would return to Oregon. Except, a man, who had wanted to see her again, would have written. In four years he’d been gone, she’d received no letter. So many had died on both sides-- but more on the side for which he had fought, the South.

    She turned back to the mirror, attempting to wrap her hair into a bun. Frustrated, she gave up and used combs to pull it back from her face. In the mirror, she saw herself, her mother, and sister reflected. She didn’t have their black hair, but the three of them had fine boned faces and slim bodies. Raine’s reddish-brown hair, a product of her father’s heritage, was wavier than she liked. If she could have changed it to something smoother, more manageable, she would have. More silliness. Life was what it was. She wasn’t going to be changing anything.