Happy Holidays, an Intro to Jenyfer Matthews, + Excerpts

It's been a wonderful week, and can't wait till Christmas now. I updated my MySpace to look gaudy, clashy, and Christmasy - reds, greens, and animated GIFs.

Last night I went to a dessert party at Jane Beckenham's. You know Jane - the author of Hiring Cupid and He's the One? Well, she hosted a number of fledgling authors at her home for a Christmas celebration, and I had the opportunity to meet some incredible people. My friend Yvonne Walus was there, too. Yvonne just returned from a book tour in South Africa, promoting some of her crime novels. She arrived back just in time for her Sir Julius Vogel Award nomination! Way to go, Yvonne!

I want to introduce you to a fellow Cerridwen Press author today, Jenyfer Matthews. Jenyfer describes herself:
"Jenyfer is an American currently living in Cairo, Egypt. In addition to writing contemporary romance, she is also a full time mother, quilter and aspiring wine snob. She's a chatty sort and is addicted to email. If you want to know more about Jenyfer visit her website or her blog."

Here's an excerpt from her book,Here to Stay:

Julia nearly collided with Patrick who stood on the porch, poised to knock. When Julia opened the door, he lowered his hand and tucked it into his pocket. “Hello, Blue.”

She stood looking at him, gripping the edge of the door tightly. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged. “I’m going back to Chicago, but I didn’t want to leave things like we did the other day. I hope that we can at least be friends. Here, I brought you a house-warming gift.” He thrust a colorful gift bag toward her.

She took the bag from him and turned away, leaving the door open behind her.
Patrick frowned and followed her into the house. It wasn’t hard to see that something had her upset—more than just his showing up unannounced. He wanted to help if he could. If she’d let him.

He followed Julia back to the kitchen and found her leaning against the counter, looking out of the window over the sink. She’d set the bag on the counter beside her, untouched.

He wanted to go to her and hold her but feared what her reaction might be. Instead, he stopped near the kitchen table, trying to decide what to do next. He looked down and saw the estimate the contractor left her.
No wonder she was upset.

He had no idea how much money her aunt had left her, but he guessed it wasn’t much based on the way the house had been kept and by her reaction to the builder’s estimate.

Julia stood looking out at the sky. She was doing some deep breathing exercises and thinking. Trying to regain her calm.

The contractor’s estimate was nothing to lose hope over, she assured herself. She had known that starting her life over here, in this strange place, was going to be difficult.

She had to trust herself, trust that she would make it. She would find a way to support herself. She would resume her marketing career if she had to. She was close enough to New York to commute if need be and her former boss had assured her of a glowing reference if she should need one.

Her house needed a roof. The floors needed refinishing and the walls needed a paint job, inside and out—there were just too many things to mention. She would do everything, just not all at once. It would take some time. This was her house now and she wasn’t going to give it up.

Dealing with Patrick was a different story though. She found it difficult to remain calm when she looked into the warm golden brown of his eyes. She took one last deep breath to steel herself before turning to face him.

He stood near the kitchen table with a paper in his hand. She walked closer. “What’s that?”

He pushed it across the table to her. “Is this what has you so upset?”
“It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

He grabbed her hands in his. “Let me help you. Please.”

She looked up at him. His touch felt so good. She hadn’t realized how much she needed human contact, to be held and reassured, but she couldn’t seek solace from Patrick. She had to maintain her distance. She squeezed his hands and pulled away.

“I don’t need your money, Patrick. I’ll be fine.”

“I wasn’t talking about money.”

She shook her head. “Then I don’t understand. How can you help me?”

“Let me do the roof for you.”

She gaped at him in surprise. “What? You?”

“Why do you look so skeptical?” he asked. “Dad is a contractor, you know and I worked with him every summer during college. I’ve done lots of roofing.”

“It’s not that,” she stammered, “what about your job? You have to go back to Chicago.”

“I took a leave of absence,” he answered. “So, you see, I’m at your disposal.”

She looked away, trying to regain her equilibrium. This was all happening too fast. She needed to have the roof fixed but to have Patrick do it?

“Come on, Blue, let me help you this one last time. You’ve made your feelings clear. I’ve signed the divorce papers. I promise that I won’t pressure you for anything more.”

That was true enough. He had signed the papers. She looked him in the eye. He looked sincere. And she really did need that roof done.

“I don’t know. I’m sure you’ll be sorry—it’s a big job,” she said, trying to give him an out.

“I like a challenge,” he responded with a confident smile.

She wished she felt as confident as he looked. Still, it might be the perfect solution to her problem.

“Okay,” she answered slowly, “if you’re sure. Thank you for offering.”

He grinned at her. “I’ll go take a look at it right now.”

She shook her head as she followed him. She could see he was pleased and against her better judgment she felt a spark of excitement too.

It’s just the roof, she reminded herself. Nothing more. He’ll be gone before you know it.

AND NOW ONE FROM MY BOOK, In Flames, written under my pseudonym, Melody Knight:

Peri knew Sophie was up ahead—a rattle, a scuff, a scraping of rock warned her. She paused, unwilling to use the flashlight, instead focusing her night vision glasses carefully on the path. There was enough residual light here, whether vented moonlight, or glimmers from Sophie’s distant flashlight, to make the glasses useful.
The path was rock, dirt, worn stones. Easy enough to follow.

Unless… Peri hesitated. There’d been four or five intersecting tunnels so far. Could Sophie have wandered down one of those? Echoes in a cave system could throw you. Peri wondered whether she should call out. Surely, if Sophie realized Peri was following, she’d wait.

Unless she figures what she's doing might be hazardous to your health.

There was another answer, but Peri didn’t like to consider it. Sophie might not be exactly “herself”, at the moment.

It wasn’t until Peri came to yet another intersection that another possibility came to mind. What if it's not Sophie?

Which seemed ridiculous unless you were working under the premise that Gerald Beaumont had some idea you were going to be here, or at the very least, that Sophie was. If any of it was true, or even if they’d triggered some hidden security switch in opening the secret door…

…then I left them a sign saying where I was.

Maybe it didn't matter whether it was Sophie in the tunnels. Maybe being a trespasser was condemnation alone.

Peri was panicked. If she hadn't been, she would have brought rationale and logic and reason to the fore. She had the owner’s permission, after all…

But her own intuition was screaming. As a footfall sounded behind her, Peri began to run. It could be they were looking for the one who’d defaced their ancient stone path with fluorescent paint.

Me.

Peri kept picturing monks and group rapes—specters from Sophie’s dreams. For some reason, the more likely scenario of armed security guards never even occurred to her. There was too much here that matched Sophie’s nightmare, and made it seem more like memory. If that was the case, Peri didn’t think either one of them should be going this alone.

Another footfall at her back.

Peri picked up speed.

She was moving as fast as she could; nearly overrunning her night-vision lenses. Silence and subterfuge suddenly seemed as stupid as racing through the dark. They knew she was here.

But maybe they didn’t know…as yet…that she was female. Maybe, there were no thoughts of group havoc here—just the capture of an unanticipated security risk.

In that case, her best shot lay in outdistancing them, confusing them further—and finding a place to hide until she could locate Sophie.

With these confused thoughts in mind, as she tore down the path, Peri decided it was time to toss caution to the wind. Light might give them a target, but there were enough bends in the tunnel to avoid giving them a clear shot.

Decision made, she lifted the night-vision goggles at the same instant she flicked on the flashlight. She missed the apparition emerging from the side tunnel, full-on in her path.

Her light wavered, wobbled, and fixed. She was looking into the face of a dead man.

READ IT...AND SHIVER. In Flames