One Deadly Sin (45 page)

Dear Reader,

Have I got something to share with you. It’s the story of Mitch Hancock, a man living on the run, his identity so lethal its discovery could unleash a nightmare of horror on himself and his innocent daughter, Julia. Unfortunately, since Mitch is in one of my books, things don’t go the way he planned. Which is lucky for you, because that’s only the beginning of what I hope will be a page-turning story of love, sacrifice, and murder.

To whet your appetite for my next book, here’s the event that kicks everything off.

The day Sarah Jean Miles jumped into the For-bidden River was sunny and warm for October. The trees along River Road were splashed with crimson and rust, and even as she stood on the bridge staring down at the dark, swirling water, Sarah Jean knew it was a glorious day.

She just didn’t care. Glorious days were for the other eighth-grade girls. The ones who knew how to put on eyeliner and flatiron their hair. Who could giggle with the boys without blushing. Who wore bras and had MySpace pages with lots of friends.

Sarah Jean would never be one of those girls. She would never be anything.

She realized this in a moment of clarity on the bridge.

She would never be anything. Not because she couldn’t be, but because she didn’t want to be. She only wanted the sun to go away and the blackness to come and cover her.

And the water was so very dark. It swayed and circled around itself, beckoning like a pair of open arms. It made her drowsy. She could hardly take her eyes away.

Except that a sound jolted her. It came from a distance, slowly penetrating like the heart of a dream. She looked over her shoulder, a reluctant, gradual slide, as if her head was still tethered to the water below.

A truck was coming over the bridge. A black pickup.

She watched it come, a creature from another world. Land-based, sunlit.

Choose, her mind told her. You have to choose.

Her head, rubber-banded as it was to the river, turned back. Had she climbed the railing? She didn’t remember. But there she was, high above the water.

The truck had stopped. Someone was getting out, waving arms. Shouting.

But all she could hear was the voice of the water. She flew through the air to greet it. And when it claimed her, she sank deep in the river’s cold, bottomless embrace.

Happy reading!

THE DISH

Where authors give you the inside scoop!

From the desk of Elizabeth Hoyt

Gentle Reader,

Whilst researching my latest novel, TO BEGUILE A BEAST (on sale now), I came across the following document, which was written in a Suspiciously Familiar hand. I append it here for Your Amusement.

THE GENTEEL LADY’S GUIDE TO CLEANING CASTLES

Written for the Express Purpose of Guiding the Lady of Quality who may, through no fault of her own, be hiding under an Assumed Name in a Very Dirty Castle Indeed.

1. If at all possible, the Genteel Lady should choose a very dirty castle
not
inhabited by a Male (one cannot use the word
Gentleman
!) of a foul and disagreeable disposition.

2. Even if the Male in question is rather attractive otherwise.

3. An apron, preferably in a becoming shade of light blue or rose, is important.

4. The Genteel Lady should immediately hire a large and competent staff—even if it is against the express wishes of the Disagreeable Male. Remember: if the Disagreeable Male knew anything about cleaning, his castle wouldn’t be in such a deplorable state in the first place.

5. Tea is harder to make than one might imagine.

6. Beware birds’ nests hiding in the chimney!

7. The Genteel Lady should never deliver the Disagreeable Male’s luncheon to him in his tower study by herself. This may result in the Lady and the Male being closeted together—alone!

8. Should the Genteel Lady dismiss the Above Advice, she should not under any circumstances participate in a Passionate Embrace with the Disagreeable Male.

9. Even if he is no longer Quite So Disagreeable.

10. Finally, the Genteel Lady should never, ever engage in an Affair d’Coeur with the Master of the Castle. In doing so she puts not only her virtue in peril, but also her heart.

Yours Most Sincerely,

www.elizabethhoyt.com

From the desk of Annie Solomon

Dear Reader,

Everyone always asks me where I get my ideas. Sometimes I get them straight from the newspaper. Or a song lyric might start an idea rolling. Places often give me ideas, especially if they’re new to me. But in the case of my latest, ONE DEADLY SIN (on sale now), the idea for the book came from a tour guide to Iowa.

My brother was moving, which was sad because we live next door to each other, and also happy, because it meant he was taking a job that was exciting and challenging and something he always wanted to do. As a parting gift, someone had given him a guide to interesting places in Iowa, and while flipping through it one day—trying to ignore the boxes that were piling up in his living room—I happened across a famous midwestern legend about a monument in an Iowa cemetery. A monument that supposedly turned black overnight because the man buried beneath it was guilty of crimes of the heart.

That got me thinking. What if the person buried beneath the angel was innocent? What if someone wanted to prove it? What if proving it cost that someone his or her life?

That’s the nugget that got me started on Edie Swann, the tattooed, Harley-riding heroine of ONE DEADLY SIN.

They say you can’t go home again. For Edie, going home is murder. Out to revenge her father’s long-ago death, she’s caught in her own trap by a maniac who wants to see the sins of the past paid in full. With Edie’s blood.

You can check out an excerpt on my Web site,
www.anniesolomon.net
. You’ll also find more on the legend that started the story circling in my head. And while you’re there, don’t forget to check out my blog for behind-the-scenes stories in the life of a writer.

Happy Reading!

From the desk of Lillian Feisty

Dear Reader,

Have you ever had a crush on a rock star? Have you ever watched
American Idol
and your heart began to pitter-patter as you saw a performer belt out a song, straight from his gut? Have you ever stared at a musician’s fingers as he strummed his guitar and thought, “Wouldn’t it be fabulous to be tied up by that rock star as he did wicked things to me?”