I'm still driving down the writing highway and have decided to make a sharp detour. I've fallen in love with another book. I know. I know. While I was elbow-deep in my next work-in-progress, a little niggling story line kept popping in my head, nudging me. Ok, it was really erecting a billboard in my brain with big, red letters, 'WRITE ME'. How can I resist that?
And, since the book I was working on is actually part two of HEAT RISING, which is out in agent-query land, I thought it best to move on to something unrelated for the moment.
Here are some random tidbits about what's in the works now:
Beckett and Darby were high school sweethearts until a racially-fueled tragedy forced Beckett to turn his back and walk away. Beckett isn't just any member of the Red Rock tribe of Ojibwe--he's prophesied to be the strongest healer in their written and oral history. Beckett knows chasing Darby off is for the best--especially when death threats against her start showing up. When she shows up in Red Rock ten years later, both of them know their connection isn't broken. There's racial tension, murder, suspense, some creepy stuff and a whole lotta lovin' and hot romance. Promise!!
- This book is a contemporary romantic suspense. No paranormal this time. I know--sad face. More parasexies in the future though, I promise.
- You want Beckett Isham to be your doctor. You will make up illnesses as an excuse to see him. Daily.
- Darby Petit is one damn lucky woman and you want to hate her because she gets the doctor all to herself (eventually).
- There are 64 steps going down the cliff. How do I know that? Because the steps going down are the exact steps I ran up and down as a kid to get from our cabin to Lake Superior.
- Red Rock is really a mixture of Bayfield and Cornucopia, Wisconsin, where we had a cabin. Pictures to come as soon as I get them scanned.
- Beckett is based on a real person. Any guesses on where I got the inspiration for the name, Beckett? (P.S. QUANTUM LEAP: Samuel Beckett #swoon)
- Yes, I'm part Ojibwe, but you'd never, ever know it. My Grandmother, who raised me, was a member of the Red Cliff band. She celebrated her Ojibwe heritage and grew up speaking the language, though she forgot much of it over time. She'd still dream in Ojibwe though. Isn't that cool? I speak a very tiny bit of the language, but will save you from how badly I mutilate it.
- Someone does get killed.
- There are lots of sexytimes.
- You'll never look at a S'more the same way. Ever again.
To tide you over, here is my visual Pinterest board for this new work. You're welcome:
