UPDATE: The winner is…Sheryl Stark!
*~*~*

Want to win a tote filled with books from your favorite authors?
Want to find out ow Strike Force came to be?
Want to win a copy of UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER, Strike Force Book #1?
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In honor of the prerelease of ADVANCE TO THE REAR, Book #4, Strike Force, in my reader group I am running a contest for four more weeks. Each week we award one book but at the end of the campaign, on release day, February 12, some lucky person will win a Desiree Holt tote filled with signed books from some of your favorite authors, including the fabulous Delilah Devlin.

The concept of Strike Force originated from many conversations I was fortunate to have with a former member of Delta Force. He shared what he could of his experiences and patiently answered my tiring questions, so I could get it just right. In addition, I am so lucky to have become friends with a former member of one of the elite forces who is now in law enforcement. He has been invaluable in making sure my information is correct and that I don’t throw outrageous stuff into my books. In fact, he’s a fanatic about it, one of the reasons I dedicated the book to him.

The concept of ADVANCE TO THE REAR is, as they say, ripped from the headlines and is a very real probability.

Here is an exclusive excerpt.

Bang!

The explosion two streets over erupted in the night air. At the same moment, Slade detonated a small amount of Semtex on the back door and blew it open, the sound barely seconds behind it. Then they were in the rear room of the house, a room as barren as the one at Ibrahim’s. The two hostages, a man and a woman, huddled together in a corner, looking both terrified and bewildered. Both looked disheveled and each of them sported bruises on their arms and their faces.

Bile rose in Marc’s throat, as it always did when he saw how human beings had been unnecessarily been abused. Once out of here and back at the FOB, they’d get proper attention. Right now, though, the only focus was getting the fuck out of here.

This was always the hairiest part. They had scant seconds to pull this off. Slade held up a finger to his lips to signal silence, then mouthed “U. S. Army.” He and Marc pulled the hostages out through the back door, silent as ghosts. Beau and Trey had their guns out and ready to hit anyone who came through the door from the front of the house. In seconds they were all out in the alley behind the house where Ibrahim, good as his word, now waited in his cousin’s van. Seconds later they were all inside. Down the narrow street and around the corner. They stopped only long enough for Ibrahim to get out and melt away. If he was caught driving them he and his family would be annihilated.

Then Slade took over and they headed hell-bent for leather out of town.

The hostages sat silent and petrified in the middle seat, sandwiched between Trey and Marc. They clung to each other as if that contact was their only salvation.

“I know you can’t figure out what’s happening,” Trey said, his voice soothing. “All you have to know is you are with American soldiers and in less than thirty minutes we’ll all be out of here.”

Still neither of them spoke. Marc could imagine the treatment they’d suffered, the way their captors had terrorized them. But at least they weren’t screaming and trying to run away from the team, or doing anything else to hinder their departure. Beyond a cursory examination to make sure the two were mobile and didn’t need to be carried, the team had not questioned them.

“Still all clear back here,” Beau said from the third seat. He was on his knees, his rifle pointing out the window of the rear hatch door.

Marc knew he had one order to execute. If anyone came up behind them, shoot and keep shooting. Marc kept checking his watch, counting down to when the Night Stalker would be there. So far so good. They were out in the desert now, the driving slow going through the sand.

They were almost at the extraction point when Beau hollered back to them.

“Enemy vehicle on the horizon. Right on our tail.”

The MH-60 M Black Hawk zoomed in and hovered just past the van, skillfully handled by its Night Stalker pilot. Marc helped hustle the aid workers out of the van and into the chopper, handing them up to the two men crouched in the open doorway. Sand kicked up everywhere from the rotors, getting into even their eyes and teeth.

Beau was the last one in, crouched in the open doorway, positioned with his gun. Just as they lifted off, the four-wheel drive vehicle made it to the outskirts of Agadez and came plowing through the sand. The man riding in the rear began firing the vehicle-mounted machine gun while two other climbed out and started firing assault weapons at the chopper.

The pilot banked to the left, away from the line of fire, even as Beau fired steadily at the men below. And then they were out of range, rising higher until the desert was far below them.

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UPDATE: The winner is…Rebecca Merz!
*~*~*

Series lovers, I have one for you! Love a lot of badass alpha heroes, fast action, great sex, and humor? Well, that’s what I deliver in Montana Bounty Hunters! And another installment is set to drop next Tuesday!

Are you caught up? No? Then click on a cover to pick up your copy of one of these fast-paced stories and begin your blitz-read through the series, because next Tuesday Animal is coming!

  

 

 

Contest

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Tell me whether you’ve ready any of the series, and if you have, which book are you on?

Excerpt from Animal…

Animal tuned out the crackling, thudding sounds of his team members moving through the forest.

On day three after he’d joined the hunt, he wasn’t regretting his decision to give MBH a try. He’d been unwilling to make any long-term promises. Hadn’t signed a contract or filled out a W-9. Not yet, anyway. When Fetch had described what Tibbets had done, and then talked about the hunters who were already on his trail, Animal had felt a stirring of interest. Manhunts were something he was familiar with. So, he wasn’t hunting a high-dollar target through the Hindu Kush mountains. Wasn’t dropping into some walled compound to sweep a house in the dead of night.

Still, this felt familiar. Moving through the bushes. Tracking a target. Looking for campfires, footprints, signs Tibbets had stopped to piss or shit. That morning, they’d found a butchered deer. Most of the carcass had been left for scavengers. So, it hadn’t been left by a game hunter. He’d taken a portion of a haunch, had roasted it over a quickly built fire, and had eaten as much as he could before moving on.

Looked like Tibbets was feeling pretty sure he’d slipped the noose. He hadn’t even bothered to try to bury the evidence he’d been there.

The first afternoon, Animal had ridden along with Carly and Reaper. They’d shown him the warrant and pictures of Tibbets and his family. They’d canvassed businesses in Olney—gun shops, grocers, gas stations, but no one recalled seeing him or his cousin Murray.

That evening, they headed to Tibbets’s favorite haunt again. The women sat at the long polished bar, chatting up the bartender and the waitresses. Dagger and Mace played pool with two plugged-in and gossipy locals. Reaper and Animal sat at a table, watching the doors. But none of them were getting any bites.

About an hour into their surveillance, Hook and Cochise arrived.

Hook slapped a map on the table. “Found the parcel his family owns. It sits on a creek.”

“’Bout damn time,” Reaper had muttered.

The next morning, they’d geared up and surrounded a small, ratty camper trailer. Tibbets had been there recently but was now gone. After tearing through his belongings, searching for clues where he might have gone next, they bagged up dirty clothes for Mace’s dog Taco to scent on.

The moment Taco lowered his nose to the ground, following Tibbets’s trail from the camper’s metal steps, they’d realized the man had headed straight into the woods, afoot, rather than driving out.

They’d left Dagger, Lacey, and Cochise behind to watch for any movement in town, to keep an eye any one of his relatives who looked ready to head north with supplies to help him out, but the rest of the team grabbed their gear from their vehicles and began tracking him into Flathead National Forest.

Animal didn’t mind the rough conditions. He was accustomed to long marches and sleeping on the ground. None of the hunters, even Carly Stenberg, complained about the conditions, even after they’d endured a chilly rain the previous day. They’d dried their clothes beside a fire last night, reasonably assured they were still a day’s hike from catching up to Tibbets. Conversation had flowed around him, but he hadn’t felt the need to try to contribute.

This was a tight, well-trained crew, and they knew each other well. But they seemed to understand he wasn’t the chatty type. He rather liked the fact they let him be.

They came to the edge of the woods. A large meadow stretched before them, mountains in the background. The meadow was broken on one side by ridges of exposed rock.

“We got company,” Reaper said quietly. They all held back, remaining hidden by the brush. Reaper lifted an arm and pointed.

Animal pulled out his tactical telescope and followed Reaper’s direction, at last spotting a slender figure standing beside an outcropping. Not their mark. A woman. She stood in front of a tripod and peered into a camera. She had wheat-colored hair drawn back into a messy braid. She wore a red plaid shirt and a khaki vest over blue jeans and boots.

Suddenly, she jerked back her head, giving him a glimpse of her profile. Her eyebrows were lowered, her mouth dropping as she stared down the hill.

He turned his telescope toward whatever had caught her attention and immediately understood her concern.

A baby black bear ambled into the clearing, heading upward toward her location.

“Where’s mama?” he whispered.

As though answering his question, a loud bellow sounded from the forest farther down the tree line. A bear ran out, huffing and bellowing, heading toward the woman.

He didn’t have even a millisecond to think through a better plan. Animal dumped his pack and ran into the clearing, tearing at his shirt. When he’d ripped off the buttons down the front, he flapped the edges, trying to make himself look bigger. “Ha! Ha!” he yelled as loud as he could to draw the bear’s attention away from the woman.

Mama Bear bounced on her front paws and spun toward him.

“Don’t shoot unless you have to!” Animal tossed over his shoulder to Reaper.

“Don’t get in my line of fire!” Reaper shouted back.

“Don’t shoot her!” the woman screamed.

“You, shut up!” Animal yelled, still running, still flapping.

The bear’s head moved from Animal to Reaper behind him, and again to the woman, likely trying to decide who was the biggest danger to her cub.

The baby bear squalled and changed direction, running for his mama.

Just when Animal feared the bear would charge, she spun and ran into the woods, her cub running right behind her.

Animal halted, breathing hard. He gave another flap of his shirt. “Ha! Ha!” he shouted, hoping she’d been startled bad enough not to turn around.

Then he heard a whirring sound, coming from up the rise. He turned his head toward the woman. The sound came from her camera. Animal gave her a fierce glare then began to stalk up the rise.

When he reached her, she straightened and flashed him a wide smile. “Thanks for that. Thought for a second there I was going to be lunch.”

“What the hell!” he bellowed, anger shot through him. Didn’t she have a clue how close to being “lunch” he’d been, trying to rescue her? And all she’d thought about was taking her damn pictures?

Her eyebrows shot upward, and she stood still.

Behind him, he heard more of his team stomping up the hill. He should have turned and walked away. Should have let Reaper handle getting her packed up and off the mountain. Away from him.

Instead, anger vibrated through him. He glanced at the gear strewn around her feet. “Who the hell comes out to the wilderness without a goddamn gun?”

“The only shots I plan to take are with my camera,” she said icily, lifting her chin.

He ground his teeth as his face heated.

“Wish I’d been shooting video though,” she said. “The footage would’ve gone viral. Do you chase bears often?”

He narrowed his gaze, not liking her smartass tone. Did she know how close he was to exploding? Men he’d fought with knew better than to talk to him when he was like this.

A throat cleared beside him. “Ma’am, you need to pack up,” Reaper said, his voice even.

Her hazel gaze darted from Animal to the man standing beside him. “Why? She’s gone.”

“The bear’s the least of what you have to worry about out here.”

She seemed to finally take in the fact that she was surrounded by five well-armed strangers. “Were you tracking her?”

“We don’t hunt bear,” Reaper said, his voice lowering.

Animal felt a little of his steam begin to cool hearing Reaper’s clipped delivery. Someone else here got the fact she had no business out here. Alone.

“Well, I thank you for your advice, but I have no intention of packing up and leaving. It took me three days to get here. I’ll be setting up camp.” She bent and swiped at the straps of her backpack then reached inside it. She pulled out a small 9mm Colt Defender but had the good sense to point it away from the group. “I’m not unarmed.”

Animal grunted. “Think that would have stopped her? If you didn’t hit her in the head, you’d just piss her off.”

“Well, that’s not your worry, is it?” Again, she lifted her chin.

Damn, if his body didn’t go hard. The way she locked her gaze with his, she didn’t show any fear. Foolish was what she was. He could get around her gun and have her on the ground in the time it took her to realize he’d even moved.

“This is no place for a woman on her own, not today,” Reaper said.

Her back stiffened. Her cheeks paled just a bit.

“We’re not what you should fear,” Carly said quickly, stepping past Animal and Reaper. “It’s gonna take a few minutes for these two get over the adrenaline rush to explain. I’m Carly,” she said, reaching out her hand.

The woman passed the gun from her right to her left and shook Carly’s hand. “Carly, it’s nice to meet you.” She didn’t smile, and her gaze kept scanning the rest of them, like she expected them to make a move against her.

Animal drew a deep breath. He knew what she saw. He wasn’t into scaring women. Happened naturally, often enough. He set his hands on his hips and glanced at the ground while he waited for the tension in his body to ease.

“We’re bounty hunters,” Carly said. “We’ve been tracking a dangerous felon. He’s in this area. It’s not safe for you to be here.”

As Animal glanced up again, the woman’s frown deepened. “I’ve been here a day. Haven’t seen anyone but you. How do I even know you’re telling me the truth?”

Carly glanced back at Reaper. “Show her the warrant.”

Reaper reached into his pack and pulled out the folder. He passed it to the woman.

She held the folder in the crook of the arm and thumbed through the documents. “Okay, so I believe you’re what you say. But since you’re on his trail and he’s not here, why do I have to leave? Obviously, he’s already passed my location.”

“Because there are going to be more teams out here, combing the area. We’ve got the jump on everyone else. When other teams arrive, our skip might double back to evade them. No place in this wilderness is safe.”

Her lips thinned then twisted. Her gaze went back to Animal. “Dammit, I just got here.”

Animal stepped forward, using his body to intimidate her. Yeah, he felt no shame doing that. Not when scaring her into making the right choice could keep her safe. “You’re not safe on your own. Pack up.”

Damned if the woman’s mouth didn’t twitch like she wanted to laugh.

He glared.

She arched a brow. “You’re right. It’s not safe to be alone out here.”

Her expression gave him no ease. He narrowed his eyes until they were slits as he waited for what else she intended to say, because there was no way in hell she was giving up so easily.

She gave a little shrug and grinned. “I’ll go with you.”

How many of you have been shut up with a kiss? I, for one, find this terribly romantic. Us women tend to rattle on when we’re nervous, and I like a take-charge kind of guy who grabs an opportunity to move forward. End our misery. Show us how much they adore us despite our tendency to leak words under pressure. Have I ever been shut up with a kiss? Yes. It was a first kiss and kind of sloppy. I was young, he was hot, and I didn’t mind the mess because I was too relieved that I didn’t have to find another subject to talk about. I guess my story isn’t the type we romance writers put in a book, but the concept makes my heart go pitter-patter. When I see it in the movies – *SWOON*!

As I write this, I’m thinking back, trying to remember if I ever put a kiss like that in one of my books. Of course I did, but I don’t think it was a first kiss, more like a feverish “shut up and admit we belong together” kind of moment. I love those, too. I wonder how many of you will read this and internally point out the ones you’ve read (or experienced) and remember.

And so we segue into my books that are either free or on sale. For those of you who don’t know me, hello my name is J.A. Dennam and I write contemporary romantic suspense. My Captive Series is a reader favorite. Book 1, Truth and Humility, received a 5-star rating from Coffee Time Romance. Book 2, Between Faith and Fear, is now on sale for .99 until January 31st. Book 3, Crystal Mac, is FREE when you sign up for my newsletter (link to my website below), and book 4, Hell’s Hilltop…okay, you’ll have to shell out the full $4.99, but when you’ve read the first 3 books, you WILL NOT want to miss the fiery conclusion to this steamy, action-packed series. If you like cozy mysteries, you won’t find one beneath these covers. My Captive Series characters are tough, sexy, and they most definitely take prisoners. 😉

Be sure and visit my website at https://www.jadennam.com to sign up for my newsletter and get your free book! It’s also the best way to keep tabs on my special offers, promos, and new releases like Flesh of Innocents, coming in March. Hope to hear from you soon!

J. A. Dennam
JADennam.com

Cheers! Here’s a toast to 2018!

I’m kind of glad to see this year end. Yes, I’m a year older (I hit the big 6-0!). Don’t care. We’ll never mention it again.

I lost my grandmother to a painfully slow process, which I witnessed firsthand since I was one of her caregivers.

My father, who is diabetic and on dialysis, fell and broke his hip. Again, I’m pitching in with care. He’s mending, but with so many health issues, we just hold our breath day to day.

On the good news side, my dear SIL began work with the local PD—so, you know I’m waiting for that ride-along! Kids are healthy. I’m doing fine. Could use a little more rest and ME time, what with the babysitting and caregiving, but that’s life and you do what you have to do when it’s family.

On an even happier note, there are the 2018 books I delivered. Yes, some were previously subbed stories I had to revise and reissue, but there were some new stories, including five new Montana Bounty Hunters! I love writing that series, and I’m really happy readers are enjoying them so much, too!

But in case you missed what was new in 2018, here’s the list!

New in 2018

1. 01/02/18 – BOUND & DETERMINED, Texas Cowboys series
2. 01/23/18 – SLOW RIDER, Texas Cowboys series
3. 02/13/18 – NIGHT WATCH, Texas Cowboys series
4. 02/27/18 – PIRATES, A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology
5. 03/06/18 – LAYING DOWN THE LAW, The Triplehorn Brand series
6. 03/08/18 – DAGGER, Montana Bounty Hunters series
7. 03/20/18 – IN TOO DEEP, The Triplehorn Brand series
8. 04/03/18 – A LONG, HOT SUMMER, The Triplehorn Brand series
9. 04/05/18 – REAPER’S RIDE, Montana Bounty Hunters series
10. 04/27/18 – THE BOUNTY-2, The Bounty series, short story
11. 05/11/18 – TRUE HEART
12. 05/22/18 – LONE HEART
13. 06/26/18 – COCHISE, Montana Bounty Hunters series
14. 07/17/18 – GARGOYLE’S EMBRACE
15. 08/21/18 – LION IN THE SHADOWS
16. 09/11/18 – SEX ON THE BEACH, SEALS in Paradise/Montana Bounty Hunters series
17. 10/02/18 – SIN’S GIFT, Veiled Alliance series
18. 10/16/18 – HOOK, The Montana Bounty Hunters series
19. 11/07/18 – LOCKDOWN, Veiled Alliance series
20. 12/07/18 – WOLF, The Montana Bounty Hunters series 
21. 12/18/18 –STEPBROTHERS STEPPING OUT: WITH HIS CLIENT, short story

My personal favorites from among these stories…?
Here’s my list, in my order of preference.

  

  

 

As for what’s coming in 2019…?

Well, you know I have more Montana Bounty Hunters coming. Not just the guys in Bear Lodge, but the Kalispell crew, too. And there’s a spinoff coming. I’ve introduced some of the people from R.I.P., so I hope you’re ready to meet my spec ops guys headquartered in Montana!

And remember, if there’s something you’d love to see me write, drop me a line. I love hearing from you, and I’m open to suggestions as I slog along in my writer’s cave. 🙂

Thanks Delilah for another opportunity to visit your fun and informative blog. I love being here!

Today I’m talking about HOME.

Home. Homesick. Right at home.

The hackneyed “Home is where the heart is” is hackneyed for a reason. It’s true.

For me, home means loved ones, friends, family. Or that certain loved one, the significant other.

With him, I might be in a tiny apartment or stranded on a deserted island, or camping under the stars, but together… we’d be home.

Still most of us have been thrown, alone, into unfamiliar places and circumstances where we’re forced to adjust and try to settle in. Feel at home. I’ve moved a dozen times. Maybe you’ve been a student or a soldier or transplanted worker far from home. In those situations, how do you get from homesickto at home?

Maybe home becomes a photograph or a painting, or a ring, or a book? It could be the soothing sound of a familiar accent, the snoring of a pet, an old song played on a guitar or piano or blasted from a car radio? Is it a favorite movie? Maybe it’s a TV show where you can recite the episodes line by line. Friends anyone? The Office?

Is home the sound of the dawn train in the distance or the smell of chicken roasting in the oven?

Someone asked me what the overarching theme of my stories is. At first, I had no answer. My stories are born from a spark of an idea that I turned into a story. A romance. But the more I thought about it the more I knew the people in my contemporary romances are searching for home. Home as a place. Home as a calling or career. And because these are romances home as a person.

Where is your heart? What means home to you? What do you bring from place to place to give you comfort and joy?

My talismans have changed over the years but right now to feel at home I need my dad’s wedding ring and a photo with me and my husband, my daughters and their partners on vacation in California.

CONTEST

Tell me in the comments and leave me your email address (or send it directly to my email address, charlotteoshay@gmail.com), and I’ll gift two random commenters with an ARC of one of my two soon to be released books Their No Strings Affair or my novella Forever in a Moment, OR an ebook copy of one of my first two books, The Marriage Ultimatum or A Model Engagement.

By the way, my publisher, The Wild Rose Press is offering 40% off their entire ebook catalog until December 31, 2018. Check out my contemporary romances and other great stories by my fellow authors there. Just till tomorrow. Click below for the SALE ~ Best deal in town.

Thanks for reading!

charlotteoshay@gmail.com

Click here for The Wild Rose Press Sale
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I’ve spent some time this last month thinking about being an author and what it means to me. A few weeks ago an aspiring author was telling me she models herself after me.

What?

My career is a work in progress. The more I learn, the more I find that I don’t know a thing. Publishing is constantly changing and the demand for Romance is high, but so is the output from authors. I love that Indies have broken through the barriers and can give readers what they want and what they didn’t know they needed. The days of Gatekeepers are done and readers can find a story about almost any combination of partners and players. We are also faced with a tough economy, declining sales, sky-rocketing advertising costs, and a genre that is filled with many sub-par to downright crappy books. Everybody is entitled to their opinion and some feel the need to not only state in a review they didn’t like the book, but to attack the author personally.

So What’s A Writer To Do?

1. You create a village of support. Find your tribe. This doesn’t happen overnight; you will gain and lose members of your circle. You hold on to those that are kind to you and then repay them with the same.
2. You get over your damn self. This world is filled with ego. I believe that you have to have a healthy one in order to survive. However, diva-like ways are not acceptable. Think before speaking and then think again. Do not become a professional victim, instead be the one that others turn to for strength. Please know that in order to succeed and survive that you have to hustle every day.
3. Give back. When I was starting this journey, I had author friends share great advice with me. I was disheartened to find that one of my favorite authors, and friend, was not helpful. In fact, she looked at me as someone who was trying to take money from her pocket. She is an award-winning author who hits lists with almost every book in no way was I her competition. I decided not to be like her. If you are new, ask me and I will try to give you a good and very honest answer. I’m a cheerleader—I want you to succeed because then I can enjoy your victories.
4. Like REO Speedwagon says, “Roll with the Changes” (Google the 80’s band). Enjoy the highs and trudge through the lows. In this business, it can change within the next hour. Turn off social media, talk to your trusted friends, take a walk, love on your pet. It will get better!
5. Get a Team and treat them well. In the beginning, I had “people.” It took me about two years to figure out that they weren’t giving me their best effort. So I broke up with them and I found other people. My Admanistrative Assistant dropped into my life because we both worked the overnight shift and were bored out of our heads. He read and wanted to learn more about how a book is created, and I have the talent of breaking a computer, so he taught me how to do things without making the screen go blank. I use two cover artists for different series and I adore them both. I speak their creative language and designing covers is a joy. Finding the right editor took time. I started with a highly recommended company, but the critiquing style nearly broke me. I lost my confidence and dreaded the day when the returned edits hit my inbox. When I finally had enough, I started looking around. The relationship with your editor is one of faith, guidance, and a good bit of hand-holding. I trust this person with my most intimate thoughts regarding my ideas. I took an online class and loved how the instructor handled some pretty zany ideas. She never said, “That sucks,” or “Are you insane?” Instead, she gently offered a different direction or explained how the idea could be better served. I mustered my courage and asked if she was taking on new clients, she was, and we are still together. She knows I will never handle commas correctly and I trust that she will make my story better, so I listen when she shares her thoughts. She is a nurturer and that is exactly what I need.
6. Know when it is time. If you are unhappy, dreading “writing time,” or cringing anytime you think about your career—get out. Life is too short to do something that makes you miserable.

So yeah, I’m an Author. I love what I do even through the tough times, the uncertain times, the days where I reread what I wrote and wonder how I could have done it any worse. To me, all of that is part of the deal. The good outweighs the bad. Because of writing I have made friends all over the world, traveled to events where we discuss books, I’ve met artists that I admire, seen more than my share of stupidity, and listened to hurtful comments and wondered if I belonged. Still, every morning I wake up and look forward to sitting down with my laptop, sharing the scene that plays over and over in my head, and telling you my story.

Stay Strong and Remember what REO preaches.

 

Thanks for hosting me, Delilah. I love to talk about the inspiration for my new mystery romance, Flotsam and Jetsam: the Amelia Island Affair.

Flotsam & Jetsam: the Amelia Island Affair is a cozy mystery romance set on a barrier island in north-east Florida. Released December 17, 2018 by Wild Rose Press, it arose out of a visit to the island.

I first visited Amelia Island to attend the Amelia Island Book Festival, and was struck by the crazy quilt of events it had witnessed. Known as the Isle of Eight Flags, it had seen wave after wave of conquering armies, some big—like the Spanish, and some tiny—like the Patriots of Amelia Island, who mustered nine gunboats and maybe a hundred men. Timucuan Indians, French, Spanish, pirates, Scots mercenaries, Confederate and Union soldiers—all occupied the tiny island at one point or another. It also has a sizable Geechee (Gullah) community. Faced with a setting like that, who wouldn’t want to craft a nice little murder mystery?

The main town, Fernandina Beach, contains several historical buildings, a marina, and Fort Clinch. Built in 1847 by the US, the fort sits on the northern corner of the island, protecting the entrance to the Amelia River. South of it is Egan’s Creek, a marshy area.  In Flotsam & Jetsam, four bodies are discovered, ranging from north of the fort all the way to Egan’s Marsh. While Ellie and Simon investigate the deaths, they have to draw on much of Amelia Island’s colorful history. I hope readers find it as fascinating as I do.

Flotsam and Jetsam: The Amelia Island Affair

Who’s littering the park with corpses?

State Park Rangers Simon Ribault and Ellie Ironstone are used to dealing with messy campers and ravaging raccoons, but when three bodies wash up on the beach, they mobilize all their powers of deduction. Who are they and how did they get to the shore of Amelia Island? Are they connected to the secretive League of the Green Cross? Or linked to a mysterious Jamaican drug ring?

Ellie, new to Amelia Island, must penetrate a close-knit community if she wants to find answers to the mystery, all while deciding between two rivals for her affection: Thad, the handsome local idol, and Simon, the clever, quirky bookworm.

Simon, for his part, will have to call on his not-so-well-honed romantic prowess to lure Ellie away from Thad and at the same time use his wide-ranging research skills to solve the case.

 Excerpt: First Kiss

“Simon…”

The magic word. He walked the finger up her arm, circled her neck, and brought her lips to his. The kiss lingered, but not enough to satisfy him. He had adored this little creature for so long—since she arrived at the fort in fact, in a crisp new uniform, her campaign hat still unfaded, her expression a mix of terror and determination. He had fallen like a shooting star and could still feel the burn marks. But he had never in his wildest dreams thought she might feel the same way. He sat back, letting his hand fall.

She pulled him toward her and kissed him again. As the kiss wound down, they heard a tapping on the window. Georgia stood on the sidewalk grinning. “There’s a hotel around the corner, you know.”

Simon swiveled to look at Ellie and found himself the butt of a furious, hissing face. “You.”

“Me? What are you talking about?”

“Two-faced, two-timing, two-dollar bill. Or should I say multiple timing. How many other women do you have hidden in island nooks and crannies—this island which you know so well?”

“Huh?” This isn’t going as swimmingly as I thought. “I…uh.”

“Take me home. Now.”

“Ellie…”

“Now.”

When they rolled up in front of Ellie’s house, a cheery yellow bungalow on Fletcher Avenue with a wide porch and hanging geraniums, a silver sports car sat at the curb. Oh great, the mighty Thad.

Simon’s nemesis disentangled himself from the wheel. Slowly, as if for maximum effect, he unfurled his powerful body, planting his size fourteen shoes solidly on the ground. A beefy hand languidly brushed the sandy hair from his forehead. Strapping shoulders squared, he loped over.

Flotsam and Jetsam: the Amelia Island Affair
The Wild Rose Press, December 17, 2018
Imprint: Mainstream Mystery
Rating: Spicy (PG13)
Paper 430 p.; Ebook 97,578 words

Buy Links:
The Wild Rose Press: https://catalog.thewildrosepress.com/all-titles/6345-flotsam-and-jetsam-the-amelia-island-affair.html
Amazon:https://www.amazon.com/Flotsam-Jetsam-Amelia-Island-Affair-ebook/dp/B07JKTXYJC
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ITunes:https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/flotsam-and-jetsam/id1439717297?mt=11
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Indigo:https://www.chapters.indigo.ca/en-ca/books/flotsam-and-jetsam-the-amelia/9781509223350-item.html

About the Author

Although M. S. Spencer has lived or traveled in five of the seven continents,the last thirty years were spent mostly in Washington, D.C. as a librarian, Congressional staff assistant, speechwriter, editor, birdwatcher, policy wonk, non-profit director, and parent. After many years in academia, she worked for the U.S. Senate, the U.S. Department of the Interior, in several library systems, both public and academic, and at the Torpedo Factory Art Center. She has two grown children and a perfect granddaughter. Ms. Spencer has published twelve mystery/romantic suspense novels, and currently divides her time between Florida and Maine.

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