Blast to the Past-All I Want for Christmas! Free Read!

 I loved the characters, the setting and the spirit of the holidays. Amanda McIntyre has the magic touch."-Rosemary, Amazon Reviews

FREE SEPT. 29- OCT. 3

The legacy continues....

Rein and Liberty MacKenzie are starting a family…make that trying to. In this sexy, heart-warming holiday tale, the Kinnison Legacy returns to End of the Line, Montana where this persistent couple face more on the road to parenthood than they bargained for.

Excerpt~

“This is Cody Ross.” The kind woman placed her arm around his tiny shoulders. “Cody, you remember Mr. and Mrs. Mackenzie from the house?”

The young boy ducked beneath Ellie’s arm, shielding his face in her shoulder.

She smiled and hugged the boy. “It’s okay, Cody. They are some of my best friends and I know they’d like to be yours, too. Why, I bet if you wanted, Mr. Mackenzie might even take you to see his horses at the Last Hope Ranch.”

The boy peeked at Rein.

“It’s true,”. Rein said with a nod. “We have a lot of horses and one of our dogs just had a litter of puppies. Do you like puppies?”

The boy glanced at Liberty, then back to Rein and nodded. He cautiously extracted himself from Ellie’s embrace.

Liberty’s eyes stung from unshed tears. She wanted nothing more than to scoop up the little boy and hug him. Her fear of whether she could love a child not her own was immediately replaced with that of whether she’d be able to let go of this one when the time came. “Do you like Christmas trees, Cody?” Liberty asked. “We’ve been waiting to put ours up.” She didn’t add that the reason had been her melancholy about the holidays in general. Liberty hadn’t been able to muster much Christmas spirit, despite being very happy for friends and family in the throes of having children—starting their families.

“I never had one,” he said softly. He rubbed his small fist down his cheek and glanced at Ellie, seemingly unsure if that was the appropriate answer.

Liberty smiled encouragingly. “Then this will be a very special tree indeed. One that you can pick out. How about that?”

His eyes narrowed briefly, followed by a barely noticeable nod before his gaze fell on the giant gooey cinnamon roll that Liberty had ordered.

“Would you like to try a bite? Betty makes the best cinnamon rolls on the planet.”

“It’s true,” Betty said with a grin for the boy. “At least, that’s what they tell me.” She placed a cup of coffee on the table for Ellie. In front of Cody she put a small mug of hot cocoa. “You looked like a marshmallow kind of guy. Here,” she said, “you’ll probably need a spoon.”

Cody accepted the spoon, then tentatively reached for the pastry.

“Oh, here. Let me help you with that.” Liberty sliced off a piece and placed it on the small plate Betty had brought.

Cody picked up the bite with tiny fingers and took a nibble.

Liberty held her breath, awaiting the little boy’s reaction.

“Do you like that?” Ellie asked, finally cutting the tension.

He thought for a moment, then smiled and nodded.

Rein leaned back with a grin as Cody quickly devoured the rest and reached for more.

“How about we get some bacon to go with that? Then maybe Mrs. Mackenzie will share a bit more with you,” Ellie offered. “Would you like that?”

The little boy nodded. For the next thirty minutes Liberty watched entranced by how the young boy’s demeanor changed from sullen to seemingly content. She wondered what kind of things those soulful little eyes had seen. Images of her childhood drifted into her thoughts, remembering things that no child should have to experience.

Ellie caught her gaze and smiled as though understanding the sum of Liberty’s thoughts. She turned to the boy. “Cody, how would you like to go with Mr. and Mrs. Mackenzie to see their house, and stay for a short visit? Maybe you could help with the new puppies?”

“They’re only a few weeks old and you’d have to be very gentle. Could you do that?” Liberty took his tiny hand in hers. The mere touch produced a strange lump in her throat.

Cody drew his hand away and, pushing to his knees, whispered in Ellie’s ear.

She smiled and glanced at Rein and Liberty. “Mr. Mackenzie isn’t your father, no, but he and Mrs. Mackenzie have offered to let you stay with them for a while. But I’ll be up to visit you in a day or two.”

“We’ve got a special room ready for you, buddy,” Rein said. “You’ll have your own bed. Your own toys.”

“Tractors?”

Rein blinked, then grinned. “Sure, absolutely. John Deere. And when the weather clears we’ll go down to my brother’s ranch and see the horses.”

“I like horses,” Cody piped up without reservation.

“Then we’ll need to get you a pair of real cowboy boots, I’m thinking. What do you say?”

“And a hat… like yours?” He pointed to Rein’s perched on the hook by the booth.

Liberty caught Rein’s eye and grinned. The little guy wasn’t the least bit shy once he felt comfortable.

“Well, then, Cody, I guess let’s go get your things out of the car,” Ellie said.

Rein stood. “I’ll go take care of the bill. Liberty can go with you. I’ll be right out.”

Ellie handed the boy’s coat to her. “Into the deep end, girlfriend.”

That’s what I’m afraid of. She knelt in front of the little boy. A million questions and concerns spun in her brain. Only one kept swirling to the forefront. Can I do this? She glanced up at Ellie as she stood.

Ellie smiled. “It’s going to be fine.”

Liberty looked down at the little boy who stood holding his mitten-clad hand out to take hers and her heart took a tumble. 

I LOVE THE HOLIDAYS, ESPECIALLY CHRISTMAS MUSIC AND MOVIES (ANYONE ELSE BINGE HALLMARK MOVIES?)

What's Your Favorite Holiday Movie?

So here's my GIFT this season for readers to sample my writing!

FREE September 29- October 3 

PICK UP YOUR DIGITAL COPY 

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS 

May your holidays be filled with many blessings!

The Perfect Dress from New York Times Bestselling Author Carolyn Brown

A plus-size Texas gal has designs on an old crush in New York Times bestselling author Carolyn Brown’s exuberant, bighearted romance.

In the small town of Celeste, Texas, Mitzi Taylor has never quite fit inside the lines. Nearly six feet tall, flame-haired, and with a plus-size spirit to match every curve, she’s found her niche: a custom wedding-dress boutique catering to big brides-to-be with big dreams. Taking the plunge alongside her two best friends, she’s proud they’ve turned The Perfect Dress into a perfect success.

Just when Mitzi has it all pulled together, Graham Harrison walks back into her life, looking for bridesmaid dresses for his twin daughters. A still-strapping jock whose every gorgeous, towering inch smells like aftershave, the star of all Mitzi’s high school dreams is causing quite a flush.

For Mitzi, all it takes is a touch to feel sparks flitting around her like fireflies. She can just imagine what a kiss could do. Graham’s feeling it, too. And he’s about to make that imagination of Mitzi’s run wild. Is it just a hot summer fling, or are Mitzi’s next designs for herself and seeing her own dreams come true?

Here's an excerpt:

    “Men! Can’t live with ‘em, and if we shot 'em all, we’d be out of business,” Mitzi grumbled as she entered the back door of the custom wedding dress shop that she owned with her friends Jody and Paula.

    “Ain’t it the truth.” Jody adjusted her beaded headband, and filled three cups with herbal tea. She threw her long blonde braids over her shoulder. “Some days I could poison Lyle.”

    “And yet, if anyone else even mentioned that, you’d burn them at the stake.” Paula picked up a cup of tea and carried it to the table. She’d gotten her dark hair and dark eyes from her Texas mother, but all the superstition came straight from her Louisiana father. She waved a hand over the cup three times before she tasted it. At thirty-five, she’d never been married, but then technically, neither had any one of them. Jody had lived with Lyle since they’d graduated from high school, but they rejected the tradition of a marriage license.

    Jody’s brown eyes flashed. “Oh, honey I wouldn’t waste gasoline or wood to burn anyone. I grow my own food, remember? I’d poison the tomatoes, and it would look like whoever bad-mouthed my boyfriend had had a heart attack. And you don’t have to do that with your tea. I wouldn’t dream of poisoning you.”

    At almost six feet tall and fitting into a size eighteen jeans, Mitzi had learned to be comfortable in her skin but not until she was an adult. Before that she’d endured lots of bullying about her size. Of course today it came rushing back, all over a wisecrack a man made in the tiny little pastry shop on Main Street in Celeste, Texas.

    “Dammit!” she swore. “I forgot to bring in the doughnuts. I’ll be right back.”

    Someone must’ve forgotten to inform the people who made calendars that in East Texas, summer didn’t wait until the last days of June. The official day was still three weeks away, but that day in May the weatherman said it would reach three digits. Mitzi’s dad had joked that he’d already seen a few lizards carrying canteens.

    Sweat beads had formed on Mitzi’s upper lip by the time she returned. She set the box on the table and grabbed a paper towel to dab at her face. But before she could get the job done, her maternal grandmother, Fanny Lou, slipped into the back door. Mitzi’s dad had bought the house for them to put their business in, but Fannie Lou had given them the seed money for fabrics, new sewing machines and the separate air conditioning unit for the dressing room. She refused to be called a partner, but she loved to drop in at any old time. Not that Mitzi minded. After being away for so many years, she loved to have her grandmother around, not matter what time of day it was.

    Fanny Lou wasn’t quite as tall as Mitzi, unless she was wearing her cowboy boots. Her bright red hair sat on top of her head in a messy bun that looked somewhat like she’d stuck her finger in a light socket. Set in a bed of wrinkles, her bright blue eyes always twinkled behind wire rimmed glasses. That day she was dressed in bibbed overalls, a faded red T-shirt and her signature boots. She set a paper bag filled with tomatoes and cucumbers on the table.

    “Hotter’n the devil’s pitchfork out there. I brought y’all some stuff from my neighbor’s garden. Lord knows, I can’t eat all that and if I could, I wouldn’t. Old women like me don’t have to eat their vegetables. They can eat doughnuts when they want.” She sniffed the air. “I smell coffee.”

Purchase The Perfect Dress:

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2YmVsHu

B&N: https://bit.ly/2SMXvkb

Meet Carolyn

Carolyn Brown is a New York Times, USA Today, Wall Street Journal, Publisher’s Weekly and #1 Amazon and #1 Washington Post bestselling author and a RITA finalist. With more than 90 books on the market, she’s a recipient of the Bookseller’s Best Award, and the prestigious Montlake Diamond Award, and also a three-time recipient of the National Reader’s Choice Award.

Carolyn and her husband live in the small town of Davis, Oklahoma, where everyone knows everyone else, as well as what they’re doing and when—and they read the local newspaper on Wednesday to see who got caught. They have three grown children and enough grandchildren to keep them young.

When she’s not writing, Carolyn likes to sit in plot new stories in her backyard with her tom cat, Boots Randolph Terminator Outlaw, and watch him protect the yard from all kinds of wicked varmints like crickets, locusts, and spiders. Visit her at www.carolynbrownbooks.com.

Follow Carolyn:

Website: https://bit.ly/2TtQUeI

Twitter: https://twitter.com/thecarolynbrown

Instagram: https://bit.ly/2FApe47

FB (Author’s Page): https://bit.ly/2GZ2HAz

Buy Links:

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2YmVsHu

B&N: https://bit.ly/2SMXvkb

Thank you so much for inviting me back to Get Lost in a Story! I love getting to visit with all y’all! I’ve got coffee in one hand and a doughnut in the other one so bring on the questions.

E.E.: Who is your favorite villain?

Carolyn: That would have to be Rhett Butler in Gone With The Wind, but if we’re talking about television series, it would be Boyd Crowder in Justified. By the time that series ended I wasn’t sure which I liked better, the hero or the villain.

E.E.: Is there a “Blooper” in your story (it may have been changed before printing)?

Carolyn: Not in The Perfect Dress, but there was surely one in one of my previous books. The hero had this pet duck that followed him around. In the story the duck waddled up the stairs, and I bought an “i” instead of a “u”. Y’all can figure out exactly what waddled up the stairs. I was glad for a good editor.

E.E.: What’s the first thing you do when you finish writing a book?

Carolyn: I always say that I’m going to take a whole week off and clean my house, but after the office is cleaned, it seems a shame not to use it, so I start plotting the next book.  But in all honesty, after I write THE END, I take a deep breath and give thanks that I met my deadline!

E.E.: If you could interview one person (and it doesn’t have to be a writer) who would it be?

Carolyn: My great-great-great-great-great grandmother Martha Cummins. I’ve been told my whole life that she came to the United States from Ireland and married a Native American, but my DNA test showed that I didn’t have an ounce of Native American blood. So I’d like to ask her about her husband. Wait just a minute while I go write this idea down for a future book about a heroine who doesn’t believe her DNA test!

E.E.: If you were given a chance to travel to the past where would you go and specifically why?

Carolyn: Probably to Ireland.  I’ve always been intrigued about that place. Maybe it’s that DNA test calling me home to where my roots really started.

Today, Carolyn  will give away a signed copy of The Perfect Dress. Just leave a comment and enter the raffle.

Do you recall your wedding dress? What did you love about it? 
If not yours, someone else's.

Thank you for having me again, and thanks so much for the folks who asked questions. 

Join me on my Author’s FB page today from 11 to 12 central standard time if you have anymore questions!!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Between the Lines w/ Amanda McIntyre

Where do you get your inspiration? 

I can remember the first time I was asked this question. As a writer early in my career, I can remember thinking off the cuff answers like--observing people in airports, hearing snippets of songs on the radio (my first published book, Unfinished Dreams is inspired by the opening of the song "She Said Yes," by Brad Paisley) and maybe standing in line at the grocery store hearing pieces of conversations.

And while I was a "townie" growing up, my community was supported by area ranchers, dairy farms, and corn farmers. We had/have small cafe's where guys in overalls met every morning to share coffee and talk about grain stocks and the planting season. The scent of the local hardware and farm implement stores with the bags of feed stacked high. The excitement of "chick days" at the local farm supply store (yes, I have the T-shirt!) There are plentiful local bars with colorful clientele and a movie theater that is a slice of American nostalgia.

After many years of schooling, work and more schooling, my husband (also a hometown boy) and I wound up back in our hometown, 1) to give our kids a closeness to grandparents, and 2) to give back to the community we so dearly loved

Meet some of the folks from End of the Line!

My current series work began with a trilogy (The Kinnison Legacy) and has now got two interconnected series, (Last Hope Ranch) and End of the Line) All were inspired by my own experience of living in a small Midwestern farm town.

In the historic little Montana town of End of the Line, once a pop-up town of the gold rush of the late 1800's, I have taken the inspiration of my growing up years and tried to integrate them into a place people will want to visit, with people they'd like to get to know.

Betty's Sunrise Cafe': Set on one corner of the town square, and in every story of these related books, Betty's is a mainstay to the town. This is the place if you're looking for the best cup of coffee in town, an array of home-cooked comfort food, or the latest gossip. Run by Betty and Jerry, they have the biggest hearts and the latest scuttle on everything happening in town. Betty's now has a bakery next door with sweet treats and baked goods managed by Rebecca Greyfeather--pie maker extraordinaire and wife of Michael Greyfeather. There's rumor Betty has a cookbook in the works! We'll see how that pans out!!

Nan's Sporting Goods & Repair: Run by widow, Nan Patusky and started with her late husband Andrew, a WWII veteran and high school sweetheart. They married after the war and opened their business and became involved in teaching fly-fishing to kids when it was discovered they couldn't have kids of their own. In my upcoming book, WORTH THE WAIT, Nan will discover an explosive secret that will change her life forever!

**SEE SPECIAL BELOW**

Dusty's Bar & Grill: Run by Dusty, he employs Dixie, his only waitress who does NOT believe in skimpy denim shorts and Stan (grill cook) The hub of social life, particularly on Friday and Saturday nights for locals and area residents. Dusty's boasts Karaoke fundraisers, great burgers, and is not without the occasional brawl as you can read about in RUGGED HEARTS, with Wyatt Kinnison going toe-to-toe when someone makes a move on second grade school teacher,  Aimee Worth. A woman who set his world topsy-turvy in more ways than one!



Tanners Meat Market: Just across from the Got-n-Go gas station and grocery,
it's run by Sam Tanner. Confirmed bachelor who has the swoon-worthy looks of Sam Elliot and about the same disposition is your guy to go to for the best cuts of local beef, deer jerky, and your Thanksgiving turkey. He also carries homemade frozen soups and seafood. Sam has a few skeletons of his own which come out in the book, LOST AND FOUND. More on Sam to come!

Last Hope Ranch Cabin rentals: On the property of the Kinnison's sprawling ranch, Rein MacKenzie and his wife, Liberty (Wyatt and Dalton's step-sister) have built a row of modern cabins designed and built by Rein in accordance to the wishes of his Uncle Jed Kinnison's diary. Once a successful cattle ranch, time and Jed's passing made it necessary to sell off most of the herds. With the help of a Crow horse whisperer, Michael Greyfeather, old friend of Uncle Jed, the ranch became an overflow to an equine rescue ranch which led to the cabins. Together they provide the beauty of the country and working with the horses on the ranch to provide healing to those in need. Clay Saunders (NO STRINGS ATTACHED)  and Liberty Belle Vaughn (RUSTLER'S HEART) are just two of the folks that 
discover the healing power of the ranch and the small town support in End of the Line.

In the weeks to come, I'll be highlighting more from this quaint community and sharing some of its history yet to be told! There's more to come from End of the Line, Montana!!

Meantime here is my special gift to you!

October 18-October 22, 2018 

Snag the book that started it all!

RUGGED HEARTS IS YOURS--FREE !!

KINDLE EDITION 

LIMITED TIME ONLY!

To celebrate my upcoming next book in this beloved series, watch for more special giveaways n the weeks to come!

Be inspired. Be kind.Be grateful.

From the Author's Desk

Today I'd like to digress from the norm and talk a little about what it's like to be an author--specifically the part of being an author where I begin a brand new book that's the start of a brand new series. I'm in this position right now--working on something completely different for me, a Scottish contemporary series.  In my case, agreeing to take on this task means a) I willingly and knowingly put myself into permanent panic mode for two years; b) I get many many opportunities to hone my procrastination skills; c) I learn perseverance because eventually I'll have a brand new book.

This post is not shameless promotion for me (yet) since only three chapters of the new series exist, and I have a lovely agent who'll see them first and give the thumbs up or thumbs down. This is a promo for all authors--I want to shine a light on just how off-base people are when theyimagine writing as oh-so-glamorous!

The first thing that happens when I start a new book/series is I get a shiny new idea (SNI). This is  the really fun stage. A place, a character, an idea--anything can inspire the SNI. In my case, the catalyst was a hiking trip to Scotland last summer. I mean, I was blessed to visit the country--it would be unnatural for a writer to ignore the bombardment of ideas.

 

The second thing that happens is also fun. Research. First, into my characters. In this case, three American siblings (two brothers and a sister) whose Scottish mother died when they were all under five. They inherit the family farm in the Highlands from relatives they never knew they had.

Next, there's research to do into the country, customs, mythologies and legends. In the new series, I'll be introducing kelpies (flesh-eating water horses), brownies (house elves that do helpful jobs for people in exchange for food), faeries, and magic. And what have I found? Scottish legends are much darker than many--no leprechans or pots of gold in these tales. Oh, and of course there are kilts.

Once those two (did I mention fun?) things are done, the work starts. I have to write the first draft. The fun for me temporarily ends here. Authors come in a couple of basic types--those who love the first draft process, which is creating stories and worlds out of thin air, and those who prefer the editing phase. I am definitely in that second category. Creating the words is like pulling blood, sweat, and tears from my soul. Revising those words and making them pretty and perfect is what makes writing fun.

The bad thing that happens in the writing phase is that I start to procrastinate, eat, and whine in that order. I'm a big baby when I'm starting a book and my husband is going to heaven for sure because he's so patient with this phase of my work.

Once the book is past the first three chapters, things smooth out for the 100 pages or so. I can breeze along pretty well and get a lot of plot established. Then comes the middle of the book, and I'm back to visiting the refrigerator or the Nutella jar in the cupboard until six chapters before the end. Then, at last, the end is written. A small brag:  I'm pretty good at endings. But maybe that's only relief talking whenever I finish a book.

The sweetest thing any author ever writes is "The End." We love and adore those words--even when we still have to start revisions.

Revisions get done, at least two passes of editing and proofreading take place, the printed copy is read one last time, and then ... we're not done.

Promotion. Now there's a subject for another blog--or to be swept under the rug and never spoken about. Suffice it to say, I have to come up with giveaways, swag, advertisements, Facebook posts, newsletter upgrades, and promoting myself and my work--which I hate.

It's only all worth it when see our book for sale online or hold our babies in our hands, bound and pretty paperbacks. So why do I (we) do this? Some of us can't help it. Some of us love meeting readers. Some of us just like excuses to eat Nutella or post pictures of Sean Connery in a kilt.

But the biggest reason we write is for the rare moments when a reader tells us our stories touched them--made them laugh, made them stay up too late, made them cry, allowed them to escape. That is is so very important to a writer. So--what I really want to say (other than the working title for my new book is "Highland Surprise" -- you had to know there'd be ONE promo moment) is that every one of your favorite

authors goes through a process similar to mine. Not identical, but filled with blood, sweat, and tears to go with the satisfaction. So, never hesitate to tell an author you loved the book. And if you can possibly do it--leave a review anytime you finish a novel. Never know--you might save a jar of Nutella from a crazed novelist!

I'd love to know about YOUR job. Tell me how glamorous (or not glamorous) it is.  I don't have a Scottish contemporary for you yet, but one commenter will have her choice of any of my backlist books!

PJ Fiala's ... FORD

I'd like to share a couple of chapters of my brand new release, Ford with you.  I just love this book and can't wait for you to read it.  Let me know your thoughts, won't you?

Chapter 1

Pulling his pickup truck into a parking spot at the edge of the lot, Ford inhaled deeply as he looked at the majestic brick building which had stood longer than any other building in Lynyrd Station.

A tornado had swept through town twelve years ago and wiped out most of the town. Few buildings were left fully standing, the courthouse being one of them. Others were partially destroyed and now had new additions added on to the formerly standing walls. So, the courthouse was revered in a special way as indestructible.

Today, he only hoped it ended this black chapter in his life.

 Spotting his sister, Emmy Lou, and his brother, Dawson, waiting for him at the top of the steps in front of the entrance, he pulled his keys from the ignition and exited his truck. Swallowing the lump in his throat as he neared them, the somber looks on their faces told his story. They were scared, worried, and sick to have to be here today but eager to get on with life. Their new life.

 His boots made soft thumping sounds as he ascended the steps to greet his siblings. The sun beat down, already creating a bead of sweat on his temple, and he could feel moisture gather at his back. Another scorcher today.

He hugged Emmy first. Her long, dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail at her nape, her dark eyes so much like his held the emotions of a hundred people in them. He wrapped his arms around her tighter and pulled her closer, whispering in her ear, "We'll be okay. We can do this."

 "I know. I'm not used to being on this side of the courtroom, and I'm nervous as hell."

 "’Bout time you see what some of your clients have to go through. It'll make you a better lawyer for them."

 She scoffed and slapped at his shoulder, but the weak smile she gave him said it all. She thought so too. She was a damned good lawyer, though she often found herself working for the worst clients. Drug dealers and pedophiles—as a defense lawyer, she got them all. But she always believed a fair trial kept these scumbags from getting an appeal and kept them in jail where they belonged. Good thing they didn't know she felt that way.

 Turning to Dawson, Ford wrapped him in a warm embrace. "Love you, man. It's going to be all right."

 "I know, Ford. We're finally going to see this piece of shit go to jail for killing Mom and Dad. I haven't been able to sleep, thinking we'd finally be getting justice for them."

 "It's all I've been able to think about for the past four years."

"Yeah, I get that." Dawson, the youngest of the three of them and the most emotional, blinked away the wetness gathering in his eyes. Dawson's sandy brown hair and blue eyes were just like their mom's, and Ford had to swallow the lump that had grown in his throat at the thought. Their parents had been killed in a fire set by Bobby Ray June just over four years ago; he'd been tracking Bobby Ray ever since. Then, Bobby Ray was a suspect in the fires that burned through Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, and Ford had been so damned mad that he hadn't gotten to him. He stepped up his efforts which required him to be away from home for five months and finally brought him in eight months ago. Getting to this trial had seemed like an eternity, and his heart was heavy that he hadn't been able to get justice for his parents. That is, until now.

Finally. Stepping back, he inhaled deeply and asked, "Shall we head inside?"

 They turned to enter the old brick building, the sun still high in the sky. The cloudless day seemed a good omen for them.

"Ford! Hey, wait up."

 He turned to see Detective Rory Richards briskly walking toward them. Leaning forward to shake hands with his high school friend, Ford could see the trouble in his eyes.

"Hey, I hate to be the one to tell you this, and I'm so sorry." He cleared his throat. "Bobby Ray June escaped as he was being transported to court this morning."

"What?" Emmy yelled. "Honest to God, didn't you have that animal chained up in every way possible?" Tears instantly raced down her cheeks as she looked to Ford for their next move. His jaw clenched, and his heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach, threatening to spill the meager contents inside.

"He had help. We're thinking Waylon June." Rory's fingers shook as he handed the grainy pictures to him. "We'd like you on this, Ford—if you think you want to track this asshole down again."

 It was hard to make out distinct features, but the resemblance was certainly the mark of family. Sliding each picture off to Emmy and Dawson as he looked them over, the last one was a gut punch. Both Bobby Ray and Waylon giving the camera on the prison escort van the finger and wearing smiles on their disgusting pudgy faces. Emmy gasped as she saw the last picture. Dawson swore and choked back a sob.

Emmy grabbed Ford’s arm and turned him toward her. "You have to go. You have to go and get that motherfucker again."

Chapter 2

"Good morning!" she cheerfully said to no one in particular but to all who were within earshot. 

"Morning, Megan. I've got your breakfast all ready. It's chicken day, so you're gonna be busy, need to eat to build up your strength." Nila's deep, gravelly voice could be heard over the clatter of dishes and frying foods. A large woman in her early sixties, Nila had hired Megan when she needed a job, and they'd been together for the past four years. Everyone in town loved Nila's broasted chicken and her apple pies. Megan loved that Nila took care of her, and she returned the favor. It wasn't uncommon for Nila to forget to eat herself—especially on chicken day.

 "Thank you. I'll just do a quick sweep of the dining room with the coffeepot before I sit."

 Tying her spring green apron around her waist, she breezed through the double swinging saloon doors to the dining room and quickly assessed the capacity. About half full now. It wouldn't be long before it would be impossible to hear herself think as it filled with customers, all chatting, laughing, and enjoying the atmosphere. Small town meets southern charm meets the best deal in town—and the best food too. It was a business gold mine.

 "Morning, Ralph. Ed. More coffee?" She filled their cups without waiting for them to respond. They always wanted more coffee. Regulars came in at six in the morning and sat through the better part of breakfast, gossiping about who was where and when they came and went. Gossip central right here.

Edging her way through the tables set for four, the red and white upholstered chairs in shiny vinyl and chrome legs resembled a fifties diner. She continued chatting and pouring until she came to a booth in the corner. Stopping short of the table, her stomach plummeted as her eyes caught those of the occupant. Lazar blue eyes trapped her, causing her throat to go dry as her heart sped. Not again. This was the fifth day in a row. Why wouldn't he believe her and go harass someone else?

 "Marcus. I don't suppose I could hope that you're actually here for the food today?"

 Slowly pushing his cup to the edge of the table, she gritted her teeth as she concentrated on filling it but fantasied about dumping the whole pot over his head. 

"I think we both know why I'm here."

Lifting her eyes to his, she slowly inhaled and held her breath for a moment before exhaling.

 "I don't know where Waylon is. We're divorced. Have been for over six damned years. He doesn't check in. He doesn't call. He doesn't write. He doesn't visit. And I like it that way. I want nothing to do with him or you or any of your cohorts. Now, if I need to call the police about the harassment, I certainly will."

 A smile spread across his face in a slow slither, as if he were a snake—which was the perfect way to describe him. He was a drug runner, and unfortunately for her, so was Waylon. Also, unfortunately for her, Waylon seemed to have stolen a very valuable something from Marcus, and he wanted it back.

"I think you're blowing this all out of proportion. I'm sitting here drinking coffee, not unlike those gentlemen over there you chatted so nicely with, and I simply ask you a couple of questions about a mutual friend. Don't think the cops are going to be too interested in that story."

 She clenched her jaw tightly as her breathing increased.

 "Plus, with your record, I don't think the police are going to believe you over me. I don't have a police record."

 "Yet," she spat out.

 He shrugged.

 Turning abruptly, she hustled back to the kitchen, more to get away from him than anything else, but also … well, to get away from him. Ramming her fists into her apron pockets to hide the shaking from Nila, she walked past the table set with her plate and a fresh glass of orange juice, intending to use the restroom.

 "Hey girl, you need to eat," Nila called after her.

 Giving a quick wave of her hand and a glance over her shoulder, she replied, "Just gotta use the bathroom. Be back."

 Locking the wooden door behind her, she leaned against it, wrapping her hands around her stomach, hoping to quell the roiling. He was right in that he didn't actually do anything to her other than ask questions, but she knew for a fact that he'd followed her home yesterday and the day before. He watched her house most of the night too. She'd gone onto her front porch to water all of her flowers, and there he was, not even hiding the fact that he was watching her. In the middle of the night, she could have sworn she heard footsteps on the porch. Her heart beat so fast, she thought it'd take off and fly away. Listening for the jiggle of the door handle or the rattle of one of her old windows, she was finally able to relax after about an hour when no such sounds reached her ears. She didn't mention it today because she wanted to pretend it wasn't happening, and he wasn't getting bolder. She was probably being stupid. These weren't people you messed with. If she knew where that jackass ex-husband of hers was, she'd turn him over in a heartbeat.

  "Megan, honey, time to get rolling. You okay in there?" Nila knocked softly.

 "Yes. I'll be right out, Nila." Washing her hands, she breathed in and out a couple times and told herself it would be all right.

Leaving the bathroom, she smoothed down her apron, shoulders back, head high and forced herself to be brave. Then she heard Chad, the busboy, say, "Huh, never seen that guy before.”

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