Sunday Author Feature: RC Boldt

Good morning and Happy Valentine’s Day!

2a2dfd_83e7816563654998a51e12de5cf6cb74Today, in conjunction with Iron Claude Author Services, I am proud to present a feature post on RC Boldt, the author of the Teach Me series!

RC Boldt is the wife of Mr. Boldt, a retired Navy Chief, mother of Little Miss Boldt, and former teacher of many students. She currently lives on the southeastern coast of North Carolina, enjoys long walks on the beach, running, reading, people watching, and singing karaoke. If you’re in the mood for some killer homemade mojitos, can’t recall the lyrics to a particular 80’s song, or just need to hang around a nonconformist who will do almost anything for a laugh, she’s your girl.

You can find her at the following social media links:

Website: http://www.rcboldtbooks.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/RC_Boldt
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/rcboldtauthor/timeline
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14543027.R_C_Boldt
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/rcboldt


WildestDream-eBookBook 1:

WILDEST DREAM

Release Date: December 8, 2015

Blurb:
The Teach Me series starts off with the story of Raine and Mac, the most unlikely of best friends…

Taken from his parents and bounced from one foster home to the next, former Navy SEAL turned math teacher, Callum “Mac” Mackenzie had a rough childhood. The only time he’s let himself get attached to anyone has been with his military “brothers”. He’s convinced he doesn’t know how to love and certainly doesn’t “do” relationships. He’s spent fourteen years in the Navy and now he gets to live out his other dream: teaching.

Her thirtieth birthday fast approaching, science teacher, Raine Thompson feels as if her time to find “the one” is running out. She knows life is short, especially after dealing with breast cancer two years ago, and wants to experience her own happily ever after. But is it in the cards for her?

Finally acting on the simmering attraction they have long ignored, Raine and Mac decide to have a fling and they discover what it’s like to have someone who knows you inside out also be the one who makes your body come alive.

But it was only temporary…

Goodreads:
https://goo.gl/GaQF1i

Buy links:

Amazon Kindle: http://goo.gl/uhBV5W

B&N Nook: http://goo.gl/fu7zDM

Kobo: https://goo.gl/jY936S
iBooks: https://goo.gl/j2H8gL 

EXCERPT:

He turned his head to see her in profile as she was lying there, staring up at the slivers of moonlight and shadows on the ceiling. Mac wasn’t sure what made him do it but he slid his hand over almost hesitantly, his fingers linking with hers. He watched as she turned her head to look at him, an easy smile coming over her face.

“So.”

“So,” he echoed, returning her smile. Lying there with her, her hand in his, with that trademark smile on him, he felt like his heart staggered a bit in that moment.

Mentally shrugging it off, he spoke. “That was . . .” he trailed off, trying to find the right words.

“Subpar? So-so?” she supplied, eyes wide in innocence.

The smile slipped off his face as he stared at her. “Really, Thompson? That’s how you’re going to be?”

Raine shrugged nonchalantly and gave a dramatic sigh, turning away as if to get up. “Well, I’ll be going, now.”

He rolled to his side, his arm snaking out and grabbing her, pulling her back flush against his front. “Oh, no you don’t, missy,” he growled. “Not before giving me a chance to redeem myself. It’s only fair,” he said, smiling into her hair.

“Well, if I must,” she sighed despondently and wiggled against him as if to get more comfortable. He felt himself start to harden in response to her movement.

“Oooh. Somebody’s ready for round two already?” she remarked. “Too bad I’m too tired,” she yawned loudly. A very fake yawn.

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Woman, you should know better than to provoke me.”

“Oh, yeah? You planning to punish me?” she teased.

He slid his hand up over her hip and down to the center of her thighs. Her legs parted easily for him as he glided his fingers over her to slide one inside with ease. The sound of her quick inhalation made him grin.

“I think I’m rather fond of your punishment,” Raine told him breathlessly.

If he were to judge by the way she came apart in his arms after that as well as the other three times throughout the night, he would have to agree with her.

Teasers:

WildestDream-teaser1(1)WildestDream-teaser2(2)teaser-one(1)


Book Two:

HardToHandle_ecoverHARD TO HANDLE

Release Date: February 2, 2016 

Blurb:
RC Boldt’s Teach Me series gives us a closer look at just how thin the line is between love and hate…

Fifth grade social studies teacher, Laney Kavanaugh, is no stranger to being left behind – her father taught her that at a young age. That’s why she always has her eyes wide open when it comes to men. She’s determined she will never again be the one left behind. She doesn’t let sex blur what they’re really doing; it’s always just sex.

Until Zach.

Zachariah Mayson, fifth grade writing and English teacher, has been the bane of Laney’s existence from the moment they met at their shared elementary school. She can’t stand him. He gets under her skin like no other and is always utterly obnoxious in his attempts–and successes–in getting a rise out of her.

Until the wedding.

The night of their friends’ wedding, Laney gives in to a moment of melancholy, knowing she’ll never be able to let her guard down enough to let a guy close, let alone someday get married. She and Zach end up having the hottest night she’d ever experienced, showing her another side of him, a softer, sweeter one he’d hidden from her until now. Because now, he hoped she was finally ready to “see” him.

But when you’ve always guarded yourself against falling in love, can you let go of the past in order to embrace the future?

Goodreads:
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/27831210-hard-to-handle

Buy links:
Amazon Kindle: http://amzn.to/1KaTMYd

B&N Nook: http://bit.ly/20sPMq3

Kobo: http://bit.ly/23tuhIf
iBooks: http://apple.co/1lSx8si

Excerpt:

“What the hell do you—” He stopped mid-rant as his eyes fell on who was standing on his doorstep.

Laney looked mad as hell … and never more beautiful. With anger flashing in her hazel eyes and lips pressed thin, red and kissable. And that dress she wore? Oh, hell. It had taunted him the entire time they had been at The Turtle. Just for the simple fact that it accentuated the curves on the body he’d had his hands on, mouth on, lips on just a few days prior.

“What the hell do I want, you ask?” she snarled at him as she shoved past him to enter the house, pushing the door shut behind her with a loud thunk. “Oh, I’m so glad you asked. I want to know what the hell was with that gift. The one you shoved at me.” Her volume increased, her words forceful, demanding. “Why did you give me that gift?”

She was upset because he gave her a nice gift? Fuck that.

Because it made me think of you!” he practically screamed. He watched Laney’s eyes go wide, lips parting in shock or disbelief, he wasn’t sure which. They stood there, staring at each other, fiery gazes clashing.

He wasn’t sure who moved first, but one minute they were having their angry standoff and the next, their bodies collided, lips meeting in a kiss filled with a fierceness, tongues warring. Knocking into the wall before he righted them as they pulled off articles of clothing, they made their way down the hallway to his room. Leaving a trail of her flip flops, sweater, dress, panties, bra, and his pants in their wake, they made it to his bedroom.

Zach pulled his lips from hers. “Just one night, again, Kavanaugh?” He heard the slight bite in his tone.

Her eyes searching his, she quietly answered, “Just one night. Again.”

Hearing her repeat the words, he felt like there was a massive weight on his chest, making it difficult to breath.

Oh, he would give her one night, all right.

His mouth slammed down on hers, devouring her, tasting her deeply. Having her curves pressed against him made him nearly weak in the knees at how right it felt to have her in his arms.

It’s only for one more night.

Those words haunted him and he slid his fingers into her hair, tugging her head back to tilt it, moving his lips to her throat.

Teasers:

HTH love and hate teaser with 3D bookHTH ad with 5 star review quotes

Happy Reading!

 

Bitter Bonds Excerpt

A sneak preview of my upcoming historical romance. Enjoy!


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Chapter One

May, 1834

Jefferson Parish, Louisiana

“A commoner? Father, you do realize our family can be traced back to the echelons of European royalty? You still correspond with relatives in England and France.” Francine Beaumont was hardly ready to lay down her virginity for a man who bought his way into high society.

“What a despicable thing to say about a man you do not know. Besides, he can offer you a large plantation, slaves, and wealth. We are faltering, my dear. Certainly you have seen how household expenses have been cut in the past year,” Lord Arnaud Beaumont admonished his eldest daughter.

Francine had spurned nearly every suitor placed in her path, but now it was time to marry off the bane of his existence. How had something so vicious spawned from such a gentle-born woman as Francine’s mother? If only she were living now. Perhaps genial Marie would have been able to calm their daughter’s ire.

“It is tantamount to selling me off to the highest bidder, Papa!” Francine attempted to use the childhood endearment so often uttered by her much more pliable sister.

“The matter is settled!” Lord Beaumont pounded his fist on the top of the polished desk, causing Francine to flee the room in tears, past her younger sister, Adrienne. She watched the retreating form of Francine for a few moments before creeping into her father’s study.

Arnaud was relieved to see his sweet, patient daughter appear in the doorway. Her pleasant face was encircled with golden ringlets, her clear, blue eyes full of love and concern. Adrienne, his pride and joy, so much like her mother in every way, would never have protested an arranged marriage. She would have considered it her honor, and duty, to oblige. She was the opposite in every way to her tantruming sister.

“Papa, you mustn’t let Francine trouble you. Remember your constitution…” Adrienne had always been aware of the troubles plaguing her father. They had caused him to suffer horribly with stomach pains, only recently diagnosed as ulcerous. She knew Francine had no idea, nor would she care.

Ma petite, you are too kind. If only it were you who Henri Du Cormier sought.”

Seventeen-year old Adrienne was already well-versed in the matters of arranged marriage, knowing though she had more chance of marrying for love than her titled, elder sister. Francine looked upon Adrienne with contempt, envying her freedom, however minute.

“Papa, if I could, I would gladly take her place. Why does Monsieur Du Cormier seek a bride with a title? Surely such things do not matter here anymore.” Louisiana was a part of the United States. The French Revolution had dispatched with the monarchy, and the British held no control over them. Titles were obsolete relics of the past.

Arnaud rubbed the bridge of his nose, removing his silver-rimmed spectacles, and closing his doleful chocolate brown eyes. His greying, dark brown hair only betrayed his age. “I wish I knew, ma petite. He came into this money suddenly, only able to buy St. Esprit through sheer luck! I wish it were different. My title, therefore Francine’s, is useless.”

Adrienne crossed the room, kneeling at her father’s side, no care that she wrinkled her carefully pressed silk gown. “Mayhap we could speak to him? Surely he would not want such a wife as Francine, once he sees her ways.”

“Francine would never disgrace herself by behaving poorly at a public function, especially with the height of society attending.” Arnaud shuffled some papers aside. “It would alleviate my anguish greatly if you were to find a husband, someone to make you completely happy beyond your wildest dreams.”

Smiling warmly, Adrienne gazed up at her mother’s portrait above the fireplace. Her mother, Marie, was captured in the prime of youth and beauty. She saw her mother’s features in herself, knowing this was why her father favored her so. “You mean like how you were with Mama?”

Arnaud lifted his gaze, peering up at his beloved. They had grown up in a tumultuous world in pre-revolutionary France, hiding their aristocratic upbringing. When Arnaud had prospered in the shipping business, the young couple made their way to the French owned Louisiana territory. How they celebrated when the United States bought it, knowing their daughters would grow up in a free country.

Adrienne was three when their mother passed away from consumption. She vaguely remembered the tender-hearted woman who soothed her nightmares with soft, French lullabies. Often, her dreams were full of the music, as she twirled her small fingers into the woman’s blonde ringlets. She felt cheated not to have spent more time with her mother, but guilty for those feelings at the same time.

Finally, Arnaud spoke, “Yes, like how I was with Mama. I wish she were here. She had a way with Francine. Francine would throw the most violent tantrums, sending nannies and maids running from the nursery. Marie walked in, composed, and quieted the storm.”

Before melancholy could descend over the pair, Adrienne changed the subject. “Helene says everything is prepared for this evening. All the silver is polished, and the ballroom floor has been swept and cleaned. She wanted me to ask your approval on the canapés for the hors d’oeuvres.”

Patting his daughter’s hand, Arnaud left the final touches to Adrienne. “I am sure what you decide will be scrumptious. Is she preparing a full course meal, or a buffet?”

“I believe she thought it best to provide guests with titbits of food right in the ballroom. It’s very new-fangled. I believe I will ask for the salmon and dill. It is my favorite, after all.” Adrienne rose, brushing the fabric of her pale pink dress.

“I leave it all in your more than capable care, ma petite. Now, hurry along and reassure Helene. I am sure she will be beside herself, wondering what my decision shall be.” Arnaud winked and stood, placing a doting kiss on his daughter’s brow.

“I will, Papa.” Adrienne exited the room in a rustle of skirts, her heels clicking delicately on the wooden floor.

Arnaud sat down again, pressing his hand to his stomach to find some relief from the gurgling sensation building there. He slid open a drawer in his desk, and took a dose of the prescribed laudanum. Reclining back in the chair, he waited for the pain to recede, praying to his long silent God that Francine would do something for the family, for once in her life.

~

“Helene?” Adrienne poked her head into the kitchen, breathing in the smell of freshly baked honey bread. “Mmmm!” She crept over to the place where the bread was cooling and reached to break off a chunk.

“Mademoiselle Adrienne! That is for the midday meal! I have a fresh pot of stew bubblin’ away.” Helene bustled from the pantry, wiping her hands on her worn apron.

Snatching her hand back, Adrienne smiled warmly at the old cook. Helene had been there as long as she could remember, with her kind, brown eyes and work-worn features; always stern but kind. “I am sorry, Helene. Papa asked me to come down and say the salmon and dill will be fine for the canapés.”

“Well, it’s about time! I’ve been frettin’ for hours! Now, shoo. You’ll want to have a rest before the guests descend on us like a holy plague!” Helene ushered Adrienne out of the kitchen, but not before slipping a fresh, honey bread roll into her hand. “Don’t you say I’m never good to you, missy!” Her eyes crinkled as she smiled.

Adrienne felt the warm confection in her hand and ascended the stairs, only to be met at the top by Francine, green eyes red-rimmed from her heart-wrenching sobs. “What were you doing down there?”

“I was delivering a message from Father about the hors d’oeuvres for tonight,” Adrienne spoke carefully, knowing her sister was quick to anger. She still felt the sting of many hair pulls from their childhood. She secreted her prize in the folds of her skirt with subtle movements, knowing Francine would steal it, if given the chance.

“Tonight? You mean the evening where my life comes to an end? Where I am forced to marry a man I know nothing about?” Francine, ever the expert in dramatics, slumped delicately against the wall.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Adrienne strove to soothe her sister. “Have you met him yet? Perhaps he is devastatingly handsome.”

“How could he be? He is not from our class of people!” Francine flounced off down the hall, punctuating her flight with more sobs.

Adrienne shook her head. Francine would surely bring the entire mood of the house to a head. Everyone would be on edge, worried about upsetting their volatile charge. Bringing her treat once more back into sight, she pressed her nose to the top, breathing in the sweet smell and biting into it, letting the flavors fill her senses. Maybe this marriage to Henri Du Cormier would be good for all of them, if it got Francine out of their lives.

~

The evening arrived swiftly. Adrienne stood proudly by her father’s side as hostess, as Francine was too sulky to perform the duty. Her new dress was the color of the midnight sky, lit by a full moon. It fell in soft waves down the full skirt, accented by white lace. Her gloves were of the best quality, and her hair was styled meticulously. Despite the financial troubles, Arnaud always managed to dress his daughters to their standing.

Francine was a contrast to her sister, choosing a low-cut bodice, almost daring. Her emerald dress mimicked her disagreeable personality, and she chose black accents, instead of the more delicate white. Her ebony hair upswept in corkscrew curls around her pinched face. There was no persuading her otherwise. She maintained her position in the ballroom, away from the arriving guests, seething in silent rage. When was this Du Cormier meant to arrive? She pondered this question over and over, wanting to do something to dissuade him, but not wanting to ruin her name in the process.

“Francine, darling! You look…divine!” Rosalind Denis floated towards her in a divine creation of burgundy.

One of Francine’s only friends, the woman was quick to confide in her. “Rosalind, darling, something horrible has happened!”

“Oh my, do tell.” Rosalind flicked open her fan, surveying the entering guests, and attempting to discern who the eligible bachelors were. Her hazel eyes scanned the room eagerly, using a free hand to gently puff her blonde coiffed hair.

Francine drew her attention back, exasperated at the lack of sympathy from her friend. “I am to be married.”

“Married? But isn’t that wonderful? You will have your own household and expenditures. It will be divine.”

Francine opened her mouth to protest, but then pressed the full lips together. She had not considered this. Du Cormier had come into money; a great sum, if rumors were to be believed. “Oh, I did not consider this.”

“Of course not, my dear. You were thinking with your heart. Foolish really.” Rosalind returned to her perusal of the men.

Francine balked at the accusation. “Foolish? My heart? I fear you’ve confused me with Adrienne.”

“Who is your betrothed then?”

“Nothing is formal yet. It is Henri Du Cormier though.”

Rosalind’s eyes went like saucers, and she snapped her fan closed. “Oh my, aren’t we the lucky one? Did you know he recently bought St. Esprit, with all the slaves, and money to spare? The previous owner, sadly, was a gambler. I don’t blame him. His wife ran off with some merchant.” She prattled on about the scandal, but Francine was no longer listening. She had to make Du Cormier love her, no matter what.

Adrienne glanced over her shoulder, watching Francine conspire with Rosalind. Each was as bad as the other. The sound of her father’s rumbling voice uttering a familiar name had her turning her head. The new arrival did not go unnoticed, as a hush fell over the room.

“Monsieur Du Cormier, such a pleasure to see you again. May I present my daughter, Adrienne?”

Henri Du Cormier wasn’t like any knight in shining armor. His features were plain, intensified by high cheekbones, and a square jaw. He had long, black hair pulled back in a queue, and dark grey eyes that seemed to pierce her very soul, bringing a blush to her cheeks.

“Monsieur, welcome to our home.”

Henri took the delicate beauty’s hand, pressing his lips to the back. “A pleasure, mademoiselle.”

Francine huffed in indignation from across the room. She was not going to let Adrienne steal this man’s attentions. She pranced over, pushing her sister aside. “Monsieur! So sorry I was detained. I am Francine Beaumont.” She held out her hand expectantly, carefully perusing his appearance. She did not care much for the facial hair, but that was something she could easily change, once they were married.

Adrienne wisely chose the moment to retreat, leaving the perplexing man to her sister. She did not want a husband she had to decipher on a daily basis. Simple, loving, and kind was more than enough for her.

Women’s History: The First Female FBI Agent

 

Much like my post on Female Soldiers During the American Civil War, I like to give a bit of historical background to the novels I write. Female FBI agents are very prevalent in the United States today, making up 19% of the bureau’s special agents. This left me curious. When did women first start working for this elite agency?

As a tie in to my novel, The Fairest of Them, I decided to delve into the history of the Federal Bureau of Investigations, a.k.a the FBI. According to their website, the FBI stemmed from a special group of law enforcement agents, founded during the presidency of Theodore Roosevelt. He teamed with Attorney General Charles Bonaparte in 1908 to lay the foundations to what would later become the FBI. In 1918, with the end of WWI, the group of Special Agents was renamed the “Bureau of Investigations.”

davidson_alaska_10-44-33_am

Alaska Packard Davidson

But this isn’t a history lesson on the formation of the FBI! I’m here to tell you about women in the FBI! The history on this subject is sparse, but one name I found was Alaska Packard Davidson. She served as a special agent from October 1922 to June 1924. She was 54 years old when she was appointed. When J. Edgar Hoover took over the Bureau, Davidson, along with several other female agents were dismissed.

Hoover is only known to have hired one female Special Agent during his entire term in office. That was Lenore Huston, an agent from 1924-1928.

lenore-huston

Lenore Huston’s credentials

After, according to the FBI’s website:

On July 17, 1972, the first two women of the modern era entered the FBI Training Academy at Quantico, Virginia. Fourteen weeks later they emerged as special agents. Over the next 40 years, women agents reshaped the Bureau, achieving leadership posts across the U.S. and around the world. This series looks at their roles, their challenges, and the rewards of a demanding career as a G-woman.

A pretty big gap in history! You can learn more by going to: http://www.fbi.gov/news/stories/2012/may/women-agents_051612/women-agents_051612

fairest-ebook-with-awardDon’t forget to look for The Fairest of Them, with my own Special Agent Rae Hatting.

Meet Special Agent Rae Hatting!

Rae Hatting teaserMany of you will remember Special Agent Rae Hatting from the short story, “Crushed Gardenias.” Response to this wee, stand-alone story was so great, I decided I couldn’t let her stay put! My latest work in progress brings Rae to the novel scene (yay!). The Fairest of Them will release later this year and I will keep you all posted about when that will be!

Special Agent Hatting finds her match in Detective Lucas Thompson, a transplanted Texan in California. The pair come together in a volatile match as Rae takes over an unsolved case involving strange circumstances. A serial killer is on the loose with a penchant for dressing up his victims as characters from fairy tales. Intrigued? Rae certainly is!

I thought I would offer a preview of the first chapter. This book will be comprised of three parts, the first being from Detective Thompson’s perspective (don’t worry, it will make sense when you read it!). I hope it will be the first of a series involving the pair, if I can keep thinking up creative crimes.


Excerpt from The Fairest of Them **unedited and subject to change**:

The trail led to a clearing surrounded by redwood trees. They provided shade from the harsh afternoon July sun, their shadows dancing on the ground. In the very center of the ring, a woman lay, her hands folded over her abdomen. Blonde ringlets framed her face and her vivid blue eyes were wide open, staring blankly into the abyss. The slender form was draped in a pink dress with lace accents at the sleeves. Over it, she wore a stark white pinafore. Hikers had stumbled on the eerily staged scene in MacKerricher State Park, and called in the authorities.

Yellow crime tape was wound around the statuesque trees. It was as if they were standing guard, tall and silent. Upon closer investigation, a slim book was discovered, poking out of the pocket of the starched pinafore. It was quickly bagged and tagged as evidence before the body, carefully sealed in a black bag, was transported to the coroner’s office. I remember turning my face upwards, gazing at the majestic trees and wishing they could talk. If they could, my job would have been infinitely easier.

I had come to the small town in Mendocino County, California, early in 2003 with no intentions of taking up another job on the force. My legacy was safely tucked away in Dallas, Texas, after I solved a series of prostitute rapes and mutilations. The newspapers lauded me as a hero. The whole situation made me feel completely sick, not good for a detective. We were meant to be impartial and I found myself blaming the working girls I had so often warned about the dangers of streetwalking.

The circumstances leading me to resuming a position as a detective with the sheriff’s department were not something I wished to discuss with anyone. I would simply change the topic when brought up in conversation. I supposed that it was some sort of calling, unable to let me rest until I helped as many people as possible.

I drove back to the station, radio off, the red-taped evidence bag taunting me on the passenger seat. I knew what it contained, but I was reluctant to confirm it. I turned the bag over to the technicians at the lab and returned to my office with an off-hand reminder to let me know what they found. The book would be swabbed, submitted to latent fingerprint testing, and returned to my desk with the same report as last time: no conclusive trace evidence found. As I predicted, it’s what happened. I retrieved the book, setting it down on my desk in the plastic covering.

Snapping on a pair of latex gloves, I ran my hand over the leather cover. It was a first edition, like the rest. I carefully cracked the cover and the black print stood out on the creamy ivory paper: Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Beneath it, penned in perfect cursive were the words: She should not have taken what did not belong to her. I slammed the book shut in frustration. The taunts were becoming more and more specific as time went on.

Throwing the gloves in my trashcan, I decided to take a walk and see if Dr. Sabine Lawson had found anything on the body. The glimmer of hope had long since faded that she actually would. The curvy, African-American coroner was meticulous in her reports, so I doubted she would be even down to the woman’s breasts at this point. I had to do something to settle my nerves, though, or I would snap.

The squeak of the metal swinging doors signaled my entry into the disinfectant-scented room. I grinned at the sight of Sabine in her element. She wore her hair in narrow braids, pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail. Her skin was the color of coffee with cream. There were many days I lusted after Sabine, but she made it clear to me from day one she was committed to her job. There was no room for “torrid affairs with wild cowboys,” as she put it.

“Whatcha got for me, Doc?” I went through the motions of putting on another pair of gloves to avoid Sabine’s scowl.

“Nothing yet and you know it. You’re restless, cher.” The drawl of her New Orleans accent came out like liquid silk.

I leaned against the counter and watched her work. “Damn straight. I can’t wrap my head around this guy. He was sticking to the classics and now this jump. Why Goldilocks?”

Sabine was used to listening to my ramblings and offering her interpretations. “Perhaps, she merely fit the profile of that character.”

“He’s not like that though. He plans this all to the letter. Every detail. Stalks these women for weeks!” I jiggled my leg anxiously. The change in the killer’s modus operandi rattled me more than it should.

“Calm yourself.” She began to speak into a microphone positioned above her work station.

“Female victim appears roughly 20 to 25 years of age based on bone development and pelvic placement. She has never given birth. There are signs of sexual trauma, but no ligature marks on her wrists or ankles. A small needle mark indicates that the victim may have been drugged. Sending a sample of blood and urine to the lab for further analysis.”

I interrupted her. “No trace of semen, I take it?”

She frowned at me. “No, like the others.” Sabine carefully made her opening incision in the abdomen of the victim and drew back the flesh. She busied herself with the remainder of her work, and I knew I was dismissed without her saying so. Pinging the gloves into a bin by the door, I walked out.


Crushed Gardenias coverIn the meantime, if you can’t wait, check out “Crushed Gardenias” to get a taster of Rae!

The Accidental Stalker series

23379321Last week, it was my pleasure to review for Readers’ Favorite a novel by Celia Kennedy entitled “Charlotte’s Restrained.” Find it here.

Although the review not live on the Readers’ Favorite website, here is a bit from my 5-star review:

“It was truly a pleasure to read Miss Kennedy’s novel. I will admit to laughing out loud at some of Charlotte’s adventures as well as more than a few of Liam’s jokes. There was a particular one about “hallway sex,” but I will not give away the details! The novel was a fun and relaxing read. I liked reading about different places and people. As well as Charlotte, I was introduced to a group of her friends, who I hope will be featured in books very soon, as they all sound like incredible characters. Miss Kennedy has an eye for detail, right down to the designer brands of clothing each person wore. I could imagine their light interactions and joking conversations with little effort.”

IMG_1014The lovely Celia Kennedy has given me an ARC copy of her next book in the series, “Kathleen’s Undressed” (yay!) and some things to share with you! First, a little about this amazing author!


Author Biography: Celia Kennedy was born in Wurzburg, Germany on a military base. Her parent’s penchant for traveling has stuck with her, she’s lived in and traveled through several countries.

The imagined world has always fascinated Celia. She has studied Art History, Interior Design, Landscape Architecture, and Architecture. Her thirteen year career at UW in Seattle ended in 1996. Not wanting to be homeless, she left the academic world and worked as a Landscape Architect, married the love of her life, became a mom, has been PTA President, Girl Scout leader and Boy Scout leader.

The unimaginable wealth in her life is the most fascinating thing to her. Her love of travel, the designed and natural world, friendship, self-discovery, wine, chocolate, AND love are the foundation of her books.

Celia published her first book, Charlotte’s Restrained, The Accidental Stalker in December 2012, Venus Rising in August of 2013, Sugar It’s Cold Outside, Cupid on the Loose Anthology, April’s Fool, Fool’s Rush In Anthology, 2015 AND Kathleen’s Undressed, The Accidental Engima on February 23, 2015. Three other works are in progress.


Blank white book w/pathWhat you’ve all been waiting for…this is about her newest release, Kathleen’s Undressed! This is from the back of the book:

The ladies from Charlotte’s Restrained are back together! Joining Kathleen in Paris, France, for Fall Fashion Week, the ladies and their men mingle with celebrities, royalty, and the fashion elite.

Kathleen’s thrilled to have her friends in town, but what should be a week of camaraderie and fun is about to take a darker turn. Because Kathleen has secrets. Dark secrets her friends would be devastated to learn.

A special someone enters Kathleen’s life who urges her to reveal what she’s kept hidden. It becomes clear she will have to make a choice when the group reunites for an unexpected wedding.

Will Kathleen continue deceiving her friends at the risk of their friendship — or reveal the truth at the risk of herself?

To say I’m excited to read this is an understatement! Stay tuned for my review!


If you want to find out more about the awesome Celia Kennedy, you can find her on her social media sites listed below:

Website: www.celiakennedy.weebly.com

Blog: www.womanreinventsself.blogspot.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CMKAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/KennedyCelia

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/celiakennedy/

Google +: https://plus.google.com/u/0/106475224814075459757/posts