MARCI!!! Congratulations to Marci. The lucky commenter from February 2nd's blog that kicked off The Wild Rose Press author's Valentine's Blog tour. Marci wins a $15 Wild Rose Press gift card AND a $5 Samhain gift card.
The following commenters were also drawn to be entered into the pot for the Grand Prize drawing at the end of the month:
1. Chantale Williams
2. Maria Yerton
3. Stephanie Suesan Smith
4. Ruby CRNA
5. Barb H
6. Emma Lai (Will be entered twice - she was drawn as the winning commentor on 2 blogs!)
7. Jordan Rose
8. Clancy
9. Stephanie Faris
Mark your calendars. Wednesday, February 9th will be your next chance to comment on all the blogs and vie for another weekly drawing or win a chance for the Grand Prize!
Friday, February 4, 2011
Thursday, February 3, 2011
The Servant and the Sailor
Are you ready for a story filled with eerie little twists and turns that will make the goosebumps tingle on your skin? I hope so! Because my friend, Rachel Lynne has shared another installment on her Paige Stewart series. And if that wasn't AWESOME enough, Rachel has also agreed to bestow a copy of her great new release from The Wild Rose Press, RING OF LIES to one lucky commentor. Be sure to read all the way to the end of the post to find out how to increase your odds to win. But for now, here's what you've been waiting for...more of Rachel's spine-tingling story:
Paige Stewart and the 17 Hundred 90 Inn
Paige Stewart ran under the 17 Hundred 90 Inn’s awning and caught a glimpse of herself in the glass door. She grimaced. Thanks to a careless trolley driver and an unexpected downpour, her hair hung like wet noodles down her back and her white shirt was plastered to her skin; nothing was left to the imagination. Perfect. I get to imitate Lady Godiva in a full lobby.
Paige opened the door then crossed her arms in front of her chest and ran up the stairs. To her relief, the hallway outside her room was deserted. She dug in her purse for the key, and then cursed as her trembling hands struggled with the lock. Finally, she heard the tumblers click. Dreaming of a hot shower, Paige turned the knob and walked straight into the door.
“Umph.” She shoved on the door and rattled the knob; it didn’t budge. “Ah, what the …”
Paige huffed and turned the key back and forth, hearing the lock roll over each time. There was no doubt it was unlocked. Why isn’t the damn thing opening? Paige shoved on the door again and kicked it for good measure.
She frowned. In an old building like the 1790, the damp day had probably caused the wood to swell. Wonderful, now she’d be forced to go back downstairs, in her soaking wet and totally transparent shirt.
She glared at the door. “Come on, give a girl a break.”
Determined to exhaust all avenues before resorting to the lobby, Paige laid her shoulder against the door and put all of her weight into one last shove. The door opened without a hitch.
“Ahh!” Paige tumbled into the room, landing face down on the carpet.
Sighing, she got to her feet and closed the door. Can my day get any better? The alarm on her phone went off, signifying there were only fifteen minutes remaining until her interview. Guess I answered that question!
She rushed to the shower. Minutes later, Paige hurried to the wardrobe and pulled a pair of black slacks and a lime green sweater out before crossing to the dresser for underwear and socks. She jerked open the drawer … and stared.
It was empty. Paige frowned. She distinctly remembered unpacking her suitcase and placing her things in the drawer. She shrugged and pulled open another drawer and then another. Nothing; they were all empty. Paige pulled her suitcase from the rack; no undies.
This is not happening. Paige drew a deep breath. The logical assumption was that someone had been in her room. But that made no sense. The 1790 was a prestigious Inn; hardly the kind of place she’d need to worry about theft. Besides, who in hell would want her underwear?
Irritated, she stomped over to the pile of wet clothes she’d left beside the bed and began to dress. The clammy silk made her skin crawl. Oh, but I’m going to give that manager an earful; after the interview.
Paige slung her camera bag over her shoulder, tucked the tape recorder into her pocket and pulled the door open. She paused as something by the window caught her eye. She had the strangest sensation that someone was watching her. A chill ran up her spine and the hair at the back of her neck stood on end.
She snorted. Writing these ghost stories is affecting my brain! Paige shook her head and stepped into the hall. As she reached for the knob, the door slammed in her face.
Paige shrieked. She drew a deep breath and stared at the door. What the hell was that about? A hand fell upon her shoulder. Paige gasped and whirled to find the manager standing behind her.
“Ms. Stewart? Are you all right?”
“Huh? Yes, I, um, I’m fine Mr. Laramie, I was just coming to meet you when …“
The wizened old man glanced at the door to her room and then back at her. A smile tugged at his lips. “Won’t you tell me what’s wrong, Ms. Stewart?”
Paige shook her head. “Nothing is wrong Mr. Laramie, I’m just a bit frazzled because I’m running late—“
“My dear, your face is as white as a gho—oh! You haven’t by chance had a run-in with our Anna, have you?”
Paige frowned. “Anna? I’m not sure what you mean.”
He chuckled and patted her hand. “Why I’m referring to Anna Powers of course. She lives in room 204.”
Paige frowned and wondered if the elderly man was a bit senile. “Mr. Laramie, 204 is my room.”
A twinkle appeared in his rheumy blue eyes. “Well of course you’re staying in room 204, dear, but it’s Anna’s room.” He walked over to the door. “No one has ever been able to convince Anna to leave, though I must confess with the current popularity for paranormal oddities we haven’t tried very hard.” He laughed and gave her a wink. “Shall we go in and see if Anna is about?”
Paige’s scattered wits finally settled enough for her to comprehend what the manager was telling her. A ghost, apparently named Anna Powers, occupied room 204; at least he wanted her to think so. The problems with the door now made sense. The 17 Hundred 90 staff must have decided to give the Paranormal Post reporter a ghostly encounter to spice up her article.
Her lips pursed. The haunted room routine might have worked on the amateur ghost hunters the Inn attracted but she was a seasoned investigative journalist; of real news. A haunted hotel, verified by a respected paranormal magazine no less, was very good for business. Her annoyance turned to curiosity. How far would they go? Paige smiled and opened her door.
“So my dear, shall we sit over hear by the windows?”
Paige nodded and chose one of the wing chairs standing opposite the fireplace. She unpacked her camera and recorder, and prepared to be entertained.
“Mr. Laramie, I gathered basic information on the 1790 but, to avoid any preconceived notions I don’t read any articles on a location’s paranormal incidents. I’d appreciate your confirming the basics and then tell me about Anna.”
The old man nodded. “Certainly. Let’s see, the Inn is comprised of two houses built, of course, during the year 1790. We are Savannah’s oldest Inn and the only one with a full service restaurant and lounge. We have fourteen rooms, all with restored fireplaces, and the brick floors in the public areas are original to the houses.” Mr. Laramie paused, “Wouldn’t you like to hear about our ghost, Ms. Stewart? She’s so much more interesting …”
She laughed at his wistful look and gave in to his plea. “Alright, Mr. Laramie, you can tell me about your ghost.”
His smiled. “There are several versions of her story but we tend to think ours is most accurate. From what we can gather, Anna Powers was a servant here back in the mid 1800’s. It seems she fell in love with a sailor and, well, found herself in the ‘family way’, if you know what I mean? “
Paige nodded and fought the urge to laugh.
The humor faded from Mr. Laramie’s face. “Her sailor promised to make a respectable woman out of Anna.” He pointed to the window behind them. “On the day of the wedding, Anna, dressed in her wedding finery, stood at this window, waiting for her tardy groom. Anna’s perch presented a perfect view of the river and afforded her the opportunity to see her lover’s ship sail out of the harbor.” He shook his head and sighed. “Poor Anna was brokenhearted and, in a fit of despondency, she plunged from the window and died upon the bricks below.”
Paige’s mouth dropped open. “She killed herself? How terrible! I assume she’s an unfriendly ghost?”
Mr. Laramie’s eyes widened. “Oh my heavens no! Anna is charming, though a bit mischievous. She seems to have a fascination with our modern gadgets. Guests have reported finding their cameras, phones, even jewelry, moved or hidden. She’s also been known to flicker the lights and turn on the clock radio in the middle of the night. One couple even claimed she jerked the covers off of the bed!” He leaned closer to Paige and lowered his voice. “Anna also seems to enjoy our female guests’ unmentionables.”
Paige’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by, enjoys?”
The old man began to fidget under her gaze. “Um, well, she means no harm you understand, and things are always returned, er almost always, –“
“Mr. Laramie, what happens to women’s underwear in this room?”
He wrung his hands, obviously unnerved by her changed demeanor. “It doesn’t happen to all of our guests but there have been a few incidents of women’s lingerie disappearing. We think Anna must be fascinated by the um, vast differences in today’s intimate apparel. She seems to borrow the items for a short while and then returns them; though not usually to the original location. Once, we found a guest’s undergarments hanging on the Christmas tree in the lobby!”
Paige spoke through gritted teeth. “Mr. Laramie, this has gone far enough. As I think you know very well, I returned to my room this morning to find all of my underclothes missing. If you think for one minute that I’m going to buy the explanation that a ghost came into my room and removed them you are sadly mistaken. Furthermore, I am not inclined to write favorably about any establishment that wastes my time with such obvious hoaxes.” She rolled her eyes. “I come closer to believing you are employing a pervert!”
“Oh Ms. Stewart, please, please watch what you say!” He gulped and glanced around the room. “Anna is a sweet spirit most of the time but she has taken a severe dislike to several people, especially those that scoff at her!” He straightened in his chair. “And as for your missing items, I apologize, but I assure you that the 17 Hundred 90 Inn does not encourage our staff to construct paranormal encounters for our guests; there is no need. And all of our people are highly qualified professionals.”
Paige smirked. Professional pranksters anyway. She set her recorder down on the table and rose. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, but I think I’ve heard enough about the Inn’s so-called spirit.” She crossed the room and opened the door, motioning for him to precede her. “Perhaps we should take a tour of the Inn.”
Paige pulled the door closed and followed the manager to the stairs. “I won’t hold this against the Inn when I write my article, however I expect my clothes to be in their drawer when I return.”
He looked at Paige. She had to hand it to the man. His look of fear would fool most people; unfortunately for him she wasn’t most people.
“I can’t promise your items will be returned because no one on my staff took them.” He bit his lip. “In fact, I fear you may have angered Anna enough that she won’t give them back.”
Paige gasped. The man was still sticking with his story. She could take a joke but this … someone had gone into her room and pawed through her things! She drew a deep breath and fought the urge to shout. “Perhaps you’d better have a chat with ‘Anna’ then because my patience is wearing thin.” Paige slipped her hand into her pocket and found it empty. She sighed. “I’ll be right back Mr. Laramie, I’ve forgotten my tape recorder.”
Paige unlocked the door, wondering if it was still rigged. The door swung open without a hitch. Seems they got the message! She walked through the door and slammed into an invisible and icy barrier. Frigid cold enveloped her and unbearable pressure built around her chest. She opened her mouth to scream, but the air was forced from her lungs. The room began to spin and spots formed in front of her eyes. Everything went dark.
“Ms. Stewart, are you all right?”
Paige blinked. She was standing in front of the fireplace. “How did I … what am I doing in here?”
The old man frowned. “My dear you came back to retrieve your tape recorder. Don’t you remember?”
Paige gulped and sank down onto the chair. She stared at the tape recorder in her trembling hand. “Mr. Laramie? How did I get into this room?”
The manager sat next to her and took her hand. “Ms. Stewart, are you feeling well? Forgive me, but you don’t look good. Shall I call the –“
“No!” Paige softened her tone when the elderly man jumped. She forced a smile. “No, Mr. Laramie, I’m fine. I just … I felt dizzy a moment ago and I must have stumbled ….” She willed her legs to stop shaking and rose to her feet. “I’m probably just in need of food, no need to worry.”
He nodded. “Well … if you’re sure.” He walked to the door. “Why don’t we go downstairs and have lunch?”
Paige shook her head and retrieved her suitcase from the luggage rack. “Thank you for offering, Mr. Laramie, but I’m going to check out.”
“Today? But you have two nights reserved.”
“I know I’m booked for another night but I’m afraid my plans have changed.” Paige shuddered and began piling her things into the suitcase, trying to convince herself that what she’d felt moments ago was indeed caused by a lack of food. That has to be it. Any other explanation was ridiculous. Still, there was no way she’d spend another night in room 204, or any other room at the Inn.
“Would you see to my checkout please? I really need to leave; immediately.”
Without thought, Paige pulled the dresser drawer open. She gasped as her gaze took in the neatly folded stacks of lingerie. “When did you … how did my things get here?”
The manager looked over and shrugged. “It’s not of my doing, Ms. Stewart.”
She glared. “Mr. Laramie, I know these clothes were not here earlier.”
A gentle smile curved his lips. “I believe you, Ms. Stewart. As I said, Anna often takes—“
“Stop.” Paige shook her head. “Please just stop. I don’t believe—I’m going to finish packing. Please have my bill ready, I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
“As you wish, Ms. Stewart.” He started to pull the door closed.
“Leave it open!” She took a deep breath and lowered her voice. “Please leave the door open, Mr. Laramie.”
He smiled and Paige cringed at the knowing look in his eyes. “It’s gloomy in here, I need the extra light.” It sounded weak, even to her, but the old man merely nodded.
Paige waved her hand in response to the manager’s good-bye and then ran around the room, gathering her things; everything but her underclothes. She stared at the bras and panties, willing herself to touch them. A rustling from across the room propelled her into action. Hands shaking, she threw the clothes into the case, and zipped it closed.
Shoving her luggage into the hall, Paige scanned the room for anything she’d missed. Her heart sank as she spotted her camera lying on the floor beside the fireplace. There was no hope for it; she couldn’t leave the magazine’s camera. Common sense said nothing was going to harm her and nothing had tried, but she wasn’t interested in what common sense had to say at the moment. Focusing on the camera, Paige willed her legs to take one step, and then another. It was a lack of food! Bolstered, she took two more steps and reached the end of the bed.
The camera lay a few feet away. She took a deep breath, rushed over to the fireplace, and grabbed it. She hugged the camera to her chest and laughed at her nonsensical fears.
“There is no such thing as a ghost!
Paige crossed to the door and leaned over to secure the camera. As she zipped the bag closed, a cold wind ruffled her hair. She straightened and slowly turned around.
The door slammed in her face.
*****
“Welcome to the Kehoe House, Ms. Stewart, we hope you enjoy your stay with us!”
“I’m sure I will.” Paige laughed and jingled her room key. “As long as this isn’t Anna’s room!”
Maeve, thank you so much for allowing me, er Paige, to visit your blog! Intrepid reporter Paige Stewart may be fictitious but the legends and lore of Savannah’s 17 Hundred 90 Inn are all true … to one degree or another. Paige should learn to do her research. I’ve heard the Kehoe House is a lively place!
Rachel Lynne
You can find me, and my books, at my website http://www.rachellynneauthor.com/
If you want to see what happens to Paige at the Kehoe House, visit my Blog; the link and date of the next adventure will be posted in the News column. http://wwwrachellynneauthor.blogspot.com/
And, if you can’t wait for another suspenseful tale set amidst the beautiful and historic city of Savannah, may I suggest my romantic suspense novel Ring of Lies? http://www.thewildrosepress.com/ring-of-lies-p-4350.html
Secrets, Lies, and Murder surround Ivy Michaels amidst the backdrop of Savannah’s annual St. Patrick’s Day festivities!
Book Trailer for Ring of Lies (http://www.youtube.com/user/rachellynne1?feature=mhum )
A café owner and an ex-cop must solve the mystery of a hot blue diamond in order to catch a stone cold killer!
Excerpt (http://www.rachellynneauthor.com/ringoflies.html#excerpt )
One lucky commenter will win a pdf of Ring of Lies. Want to increase your odds of winning? You’ll get an extra entry in the prize drawing if you indicate in your comment that you’ve joined my newsletter, (link to newsletter subscription http://groups.yahoo.com/subscribe/RachelLynneAuthor?user=enter+email+address&Click+to+join+RachelLynneAuthor.x=56&Click+to+join+RachelLynneAuthor.y=27
or FaceBook Fan Page (link to fan page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Rachel-Lynne-Escape-the-ordinary-/126136164085946
(No worries about email overload, I’ve yet to send out an issue! What can I say, I live a boring life? But Paige might be persuaded to give my newsletter readers the inside scoop on some of her wilder assignments!)
Paige Stewart and the 17 Hundred 90 InnPaige Stewart ran under the 17 Hundred 90 Inn’s awning and caught a glimpse of herself in the glass door. She grimaced. Thanks to a careless trolley driver and an unexpected downpour, her hair hung like wet noodles down her back and her white shirt was plastered to her skin; nothing was left to the imagination. Perfect. I get to imitate Lady Godiva in a full lobby.
Paige opened the door then crossed her arms in front of her chest and ran up the stairs. To her relief, the hallway outside her room was deserted. She dug in her purse for the key, and then cursed as her trembling hands struggled with the lock. Finally, she heard the tumblers click. Dreaming of a hot shower, Paige turned the knob and walked straight into the door.
“Umph.” She shoved on the door and rattled the knob; it didn’t budge. “Ah, what the …”
Paige huffed and turned the key back and forth, hearing the lock roll over each time. There was no doubt it was unlocked. Why isn’t the damn thing opening? Paige shoved on the door again and kicked it for good measure.
She frowned. In an old building like the 1790, the damp day had probably caused the wood to swell. Wonderful, now she’d be forced to go back downstairs, in her soaking wet and totally transparent shirt.
She glared at the door. “Come on, give a girl a break.”
Determined to exhaust all avenues before resorting to the lobby, Paige laid her shoulder against the door and put all of her weight into one last shove. The door opened without a hitch.
“Ahh!” Paige tumbled into the room, landing face down on the carpet.
Sighing, she got to her feet and closed the door. Can my day get any better? The alarm on her phone went off, signifying there were only fifteen minutes remaining until her interview. Guess I answered that question!
She rushed to the shower. Minutes later, Paige hurried to the wardrobe and pulled a pair of black slacks and a lime green sweater out before crossing to the dresser for underwear and socks. She jerked open the drawer … and stared.
It was empty. Paige frowned. She distinctly remembered unpacking her suitcase and placing her things in the drawer. She shrugged and pulled open another drawer and then another. Nothing; they were all empty. Paige pulled her suitcase from the rack; no undies.
This is not happening. Paige drew a deep breath. The logical assumption was that someone had been in her room. But that made no sense. The 1790 was a prestigious Inn; hardly the kind of place she’d need to worry about theft. Besides, who in hell would want her underwear?
Irritated, she stomped over to the pile of wet clothes she’d left beside the bed and began to dress. The clammy silk made her skin crawl. Oh, but I’m going to give that manager an earful; after the interview.
Paige slung her camera bag over her shoulder, tucked the tape recorder into her pocket and pulled the door open. She paused as something by the window caught her eye. She had the strangest sensation that someone was watching her. A chill ran up her spine and the hair at the back of her neck stood on end.
Paige shrieked. She drew a deep breath and stared at the door. What the hell was that about? A hand fell upon her shoulder. Paige gasped and whirled to find the manager standing behind her.
“Ms. Stewart? Are you all right?”
“Huh? Yes, I, um, I’m fine Mr. Laramie, I was just coming to meet you when …“
The wizened old man glanced at the door to her room and then back at her. A smile tugged at his lips. “Won’t you tell me what’s wrong, Ms. Stewart?”
Paige shook her head. “Nothing is wrong Mr. Laramie, I’m just a bit frazzled because I’m running late—“
“My dear, your face is as white as a gho—oh! You haven’t by chance had a run-in with our Anna, have you?”
Paige frowned. “Anna? I’m not sure what you mean.”
He chuckled and patted her hand. “Why I’m referring to Anna Powers of course. She lives in room 204.”
Paige frowned and wondered if the elderly man was a bit senile. “Mr. Laramie, 204 is my room.”
A twinkle appeared in his rheumy blue eyes. “Well of course you’re staying in room 204, dear, but it’s Anna’s room.” He walked over to the door. “No one has ever been able to convince Anna to leave, though I must confess with the current popularity for paranormal oddities we haven’t tried very hard.” He laughed and gave her a wink. “Shall we go in and see if Anna is about?”
Paige’s scattered wits finally settled enough for her to comprehend what the manager was telling her. A ghost, apparently named Anna Powers, occupied room 204; at least he wanted her to think so. The problems with the door now made sense. The 17 Hundred 90 staff must have decided to give the Paranormal Post reporter a ghostly encounter to spice up her article.
Her lips pursed. The haunted room routine might have worked on the amateur ghost hunters the Inn attracted but she was a seasoned investigative journalist; of real news. A haunted hotel, verified by a respected paranormal magazine no less, was very good for business. Her annoyance turned to curiosity. How far would they go? Paige smiled and opened her door.
“So my dear, shall we sit over hear by the windows?”
Paige nodded and chose one of the wing chairs standing opposite the fireplace. She unpacked her camera and recorder, and prepared to be entertained.
“Mr. Laramie, I gathered basic information on the 1790 but, to avoid any preconceived notions I don’t read any articles on a location’s paranormal incidents. I’d appreciate your confirming the basics and then tell me about Anna.”
The old man nodded. “Certainly. Let’s see, the Inn is comprised of two houses built, of course, during the year 1790. We are Savannah’s oldest Inn and the only one with a full service restaurant and lounge. We have fourteen rooms, all with restored fireplaces, and the brick floors in the public areas are original to the houses.” Mr. Laramie paused, “Wouldn’t you like to hear about our ghost, Ms. Stewart? She’s so much more interesting …”
She laughed at his wistful look and gave in to his plea. “Alright, Mr. Laramie, you can tell me about your ghost.”
His smiled. “There are several versions of her story but we tend to think ours is most accurate. From what we can gather, Anna Powers was a servant here back in the mid 1800’s. It seems she fell in love with a sailor and, well, found herself in the ‘family way’, if you know what I mean? “
Paige nodded and fought the urge to laugh.
The humor faded from Mr. Laramie’s face. “Her sailor promised to make a respectable woman out of Anna.” He pointed to the window behind them. “On the day of the wedding, Anna, dressed in her wedding finery, stood at this window, waiting for her tardy groom. Anna’s perch presented a perfect view of the river and afforded her the opportunity to see her lover’s ship sail out of the harbor.” He shook his head and sighed. “Poor Anna was brokenhearted and, in a fit of despondency, she plunged from the window and died upon the bricks below.”
Paige’s mouth dropped open. “She killed herself? How terrible! I assume she’s an unfriendly ghost?”
Mr. Laramie’s eyes widened. “Oh my heavens no! Anna is charming, though a bit mischievous. She seems to have a fascination with our modern gadgets. Guests have reported finding their cameras, phones, even jewelry, moved or hidden. She’s also been known to flicker the lights and turn on the clock radio in the middle of the night. One couple even claimed she jerked the covers off of the bed!” He leaned closer to Paige and lowered his voice. “Anna also seems to enjoy our female guests’ unmentionables.”
Paige’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by, enjoys?”
The old man began to fidget under her gaze. “Um, well, she means no harm you understand, and things are always returned, er almost always, –“
“Mr. Laramie, what happens to women’s underwear in this room?”
He wrung his hands, obviously unnerved by her changed demeanor. “It doesn’t happen to all of our guests but there have been a few incidents of women’s lingerie disappearing. We think Anna must be fascinated by the um, vast differences in today’s intimate apparel. She seems to borrow the items for a short while and then returns them; though not usually to the original location. Once, we found a guest’s undergarments hanging on the Christmas tree in the lobby!”
Paige spoke through gritted teeth. “Mr. Laramie, this has gone far enough. As I think you know very well, I returned to my room this morning to find all of my underclothes missing. If you think for one minute that I’m going to buy the explanation that a ghost came into my room and removed them you are sadly mistaken. Furthermore, I am not inclined to write favorably about any establishment that wastes my time with such obvious hoaxes.” She rolled her eyes. “I come closer to believing you are employing a pervert!”
“Oh Ms. Stewart, please, please watch what you say!” He gulped and glanced around the room. “Anna is a sweet spirit most of the time but she has taken a severe dislike to several people, especially those that scoff at her!” He straightened in his chair. “And as for your missing items, I apologize, but I assure you that the 17 Hundred 90 Inn does not encourage our staff to construct paranormal encounters for our guests; there is no need. And all of our people are highly qualified professionals.”
Paige smirked. Professional pranksters anyway. She set her recorder down on the table and rose. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, but I think I’ve heard enough about the Inn’s so-called spirit.” She crossed the room and opened the door, motioning for him to precede her. “Perhaps we should take a tour of the Inn.”
Paige pulled the door closed and followed the manager to the stairs. “I won’t hold this against the Inn when I write my article, however I expect my clothes to be in their drawer when I return.”
He looked at Paige. She had to hand it to the man. His look of fear would fool most people; unfortunately for him she wasn’t most people.
“I can’t promise your items will be returned because no one on my staff took them.” He bit his lip. “In fact, I fear you may have angered Anna enough that she won’t give them back.”
Paige gasped. The man was still sticking with his story. She could take a joke but this … someone had gone into her room and pawed through her things! She drew a deep breath and fought the urge to shout. “Perhaps you’d better have a chat with ‘Anna’ then because my patience is wearing thin.” Paige slipped her hand into her pocket and found it empty. She sighed. “I’ll be right back Mr. Laramie, I’ve forgotten my tape recorder.”
Paige unlocked the door, wondering if it was still rigged. The door swung open without a hitch. Seems they got the message! She walked through the door and slammed into an invisible and icy barrier. Frigid cold enveloped her and unbearable pressure built around her chest. She opened her mouth to scream, but the air was forced from her lungs. The room began to spin and spots formed in front of her eyes. Everything went dark.
“Ms. Stewart, are you all right?”
Paige blinked. She was standing in front of the fireplace. “How did I … what am I doing in here?”
The old man frowned. “My dear you came back to retrieve your tape recorder. Don’t you remember?”
Paige gulped and sank down onto the chair. She stared at the tape recorder in her trembling hand. “Mr. Laramie? How did I get into this room?”
The manager sat next to her and took her hand. “Ms. Stewart, are you feeling well? Forgive me, but you don’t look good. Shall I call the –“
“No!” Paige softened her tone when the elderly man jumped. She forced a smile. “No, Mr. Laramie, I’m fine. I just … I felt dizzy a moment ago and I must have stumbled ….” She willed her legs to stop shaking and rose to her feet. “I’m probably just in need of food, no need to worry.”
He nodded. “Well … if you’re sure.” He walked to the door. “Why don’t we go downstairs and have lunch?”
Paige shook her head and retrieved her suitcase from the luggage rack. “Thank you for offering, Mr. Laramie, but I’m going to check out.”
“Today? But you have two nights reserved.”
“I know I’m booked for another night but I’m afraid my plans have changed.” Paige shuddered and began piling her things into the suitcase, trying to convince herself that what she’d felt moments ago was indeed caused by a lack of food. That has to be it. Any other explanation was ridiculous. Still, there was no way she’d spend another night in room 204, or any other room at the Inn.
“Would you see to my checkout please? I really need to leave; immediately.”
Without thought, Paige pulled the dresser drawer open. She gasped as her gaze took in the neatly folded stacks of lingerie. “When did you … how did my things get here?”
The manager looked over and shrugged. “It’s not of my doing, Ms. Stewart.”
She glared. “Mr. Laramie, I know these clothes were not here earlier.”
A gentle smile curved his lips. “I believe you, Ms. Stewart. As I said, Anna often takes—“
“Stop.” Paige shook her head. “Please just stop. I don’t believe—I’m going to finish packing. Please have my bill ready, I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
“As you wish, Ms. Stewart.” He started to pull the door closed.
“Leave it open!” She took a deep breath and lowered her voice. “Please leave the door open, Mr. Laramie.”
He smiled and Paige cringed at the knowing look in his eyes. “It’s gloomy in here, I need the extra light.” It sounded weak, even to her, but the old man merely nodded.
Paige waved her hand in response to the manager’s good-bye and then ran around the room, gathering her things; everything but her underclothes. She stared at the bras and panties, willing herself to touch them. A rustling from across the room propelled her into action. Hands shaking, she threw the clothes into the case, and zipped it closed.
Shoving her luggage into the hall, Paige scanned the room for anything she’d missed. Her heart sank as she spotted her camera lying on the floor beside the fireplace. There was no hope for it; she couldn’t leave the magazine’s camera. Common sense said nothing was going to harm her and nothing had tried, but she wasn’t interested in what common sense had to say at the moment. Focusing on the camera, Paige willed her legs to take one step, and then another. It was a lack of food! Bolstered, she took two more steps and reached the end of the bed.
The camera lay a few feet away. She took a deep breath, rushed over to the fireplace, and grabbed it. She hugged the camera to her chest and laughed at her nonsensical fears.
“There is no such thing as a ghost!
Paige crossed to the door and leaned over to secure the camera. As she zipped the bag closed, a cold wind ruffled her hair. She straightened and slowly turned around.
The door slammed in her face.
*****
“Welcome to the Kehoe House, Ms. Stewart, we hope you enjoy your stay with us!”
“I’m sure I will.” Paige laughed and jingled her room key. “As long as this isn’t Anna’s room!”
Maeve, thank you so much for allowing me, er Paige, to visit your blog! Intrepid reporter Paige Stewart may be fictitious but the legends and lore of Savannah’s 17 Hundred 90 Inn are all true … to one degree or another. Paige should learn to do her research. I’ve heard the Kehoe House is a lively place!
Rachel Lynne
You can find me, and my books, at my website http://www.rachellynneauthor.com/
If you want to see what happens to Paige at the Kehoe House, visit my Blog; the link and date of the next adventure will be posted in the News column. http://wwwrachellynneauthor.blogspot.com/
And, if you can’t wait for another suspenseful tale set amidst the beautiful and historic city of Savannah, may I suggest my romantic suspense novel Ring of Lies? http://www.thewildrosepress.com/ring-of-lies-p-4350.html
Book Trailer for Ring of Lies (http://www.youtube.com/user/rachellynne1?feature=mhum )
A café owner and an ex-cop must solve the mystery of a hot blue diamond in order to catch a stone cold killer!
Excerpt (http://www.rachellynneauthor.com/ringoflies.html#excerpt )
One lucky commenter will win a pdf of Ring of Lies. Want to increase your odds of winning? You’ll get an extra entry in the prize drawing if you indicate in your comment that you’ve joined my newsletter, (link to newsletter subscription http://groups.yahoo.com/subscribe/RachelLynneAuthor?user=enter+email+address&Click+to+join+RachelLynneAuthor.x=56&Click+to+join+RachelLynneAuthor.y=27
or FaceBook Fan Page (link to fan page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Rachel-Lynne-Escape-the-ordinary-/126136164085946
(No worries about email overload, I’ve yet to send out an issue! What can I say, I live a boring life? But Paige might be persuaded to give my newsletter readers the inside scoop on some of her wilder assignments!)
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Set that HOOK!
I'm so pleased to have author Jennifer Jakes as my guest. We're kicking off our blog tour discussing that oh so important first line and how it's so significant. Jennifer: what are YOUR thoughts?
Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I have ADHD. Or maybe it’s just the “give-it-to-me-now” world we live in. Whatever the reason, I have the attention span of a hummingbird jacked-up on Mtn. Dew. If something doesn’t grab my interest immediately, chances are I’m moving on to something that does. This applies to First Lines too.
Oh, no! An author might think – I know I do – how can I accomplish this in one line? Let’s be realistic. It’s not probable that every story ever written will hook the reader with the first line. But with a little luck and a lot of work, I think it’s possible to interest the reader after the first page. At least I hope.
I will spend hours, days, coming up with a first line, then the first page, trying to find the perfect combination of words to “set” the entire story. That’s how important I feel they are. First lines or pages should draw a reader into the world, into a problem or make us need to answer a question. What kind of question? I think that depends on the genre. If it’s Romantic Suspense, then it might be a life or death question; if it’s Category Romance, then it might be a more common problem but with devastating effects on the heroine’s world. And if it’s erotica, then it might be a sexual question, one that the heroine must explore with a hero. Or two . :-)
Think of first lines like a first meeting, a first date. You’re looking for a promise of something great. So for now I’m going to leave you with a few first lines that I think are great.
“I should warn you about my cousin.” From ROMEO by Gail Faulkner
“Oh, my God, what have I done?” From BOUNTY HUNTER’S BRIDE by Carol Finch
“Unhand her this instant!” From A REPUTABLE RAKE by Diane Gaston
“Father must protect me or I am dead.” From HER ONE DESIRE by Kimberly Killion
“I’m going to have to shorten his willie.” From DISTRACTING THE DUCHESS by Emily Bryan
Love that last one! What reader doesn’t want to know why the hero’s “willie” has to shortened? Please share some of your favorite lines with us! If you do, you’ll be entered into a drawing for some great gifts!
Thanks so much for having me here today, Maeve!
About Jennifer:
After trying several careers—everything from a beautician to a dump truck driver—Jennifer finally returned to her first love, writing. Maybe it was all those Clint Eastwood movies she watched growing up, but in her opinion there is no better read than a steamy western historical.
Married to her very own hero, she lives on fifteen acres along with two beautiful daughters, two elderly horses, two spoiled cats and two hyper dogs.
During the summer she does Civil War re-enacting and has found it a great research tool, not to mention she has continued appreciation for her microwave and hot water heater.
You can also find Jennifer at these places:
http://www.jenniferjakes.com/
http://authorjenniferjakes.blogspot.com/
FB: Jennifer Jakes
Twitter: @erotichistory
And check out her upcoming release RAFE'S REDEMPTION - available from The Wild Rose Press on February 25th.
He rode into town to buy supplies, not a woman.
For hunted recluse Rafe McBride, the raven-haired beauty on the auction block is exactly what he doesn't need. A dependant woman will be another clue his vengeful stepbrother can use to find and kill him. But Rafe's conscience won't let him leave another innocent's virginity to the riff-raff bidding. He buys her, promising to return her to St. Louis untouched. He only prays the impending blizzard holds off before her sultry beauty breaks his willpower.
She wanted freedom, not a lover.
Whisked to the auction block by her devious, gambling cousin, and then sold into the arms of a gorgeous stranger, outspoken artist Maggie Monroe isn't about to go meekly. Especially when the rugged mountain man looks like sin and danger rolled into one. But a blizzard and temptation thrust them together, and Maggie yearns to explore her smoldering passion for Rafe.
But when the snow clears, will the danger and secrets that surround Rafe and Maggie tear them apart?
Excerpt:
Maggie wanted freedom, not a lover…Oh, Lord. He was going to kiss her. She shouldn’t want this. She was confused enough. Respectable women didn’t kiss men they barely knew, certainly not men who made them have wild, exotic dreams.
It was crazy. He was making her want crazy things. Making her not give a damn about her reputation or her virginity. Or her long-awaited freedom. All she could think about was that dream, and the way his sinful mouth had felt. The table was only a step away, and honey was just as sweet as peach juice…
She swallowed hard and looked up into his hooded eyes.
“Maggie,” he groaned. “Don’t be scared. I’d never hurt you.”
Her mouth parted to object, but firm lips covered hers, hungry, demanding. She gasped, shocked at his hunger, but even more at the illicit response coursing through her. An aching heat unfurled low in her stomach, pulsed between her legs. Oh, yes. It started just like in the dream.
He deepened the kiss, coaxed her lips with his warm tongue. Long, languid strokes teased the inside of her mouth, encouraging, tempting before he pulled back to nibble the corners of her lips.
Oh, God. Is this what all kisses felt like? Hot, lethargic? Melting her like molasses over warm bread?
“Kiss me, Maggie,” he breathed.
************
Whew! Wasn't THAT an awesome excerpt? Thanks for sharing it with us, Jennifer. Okay, folks. Here's those other links I promised so you can leave comments and increase your chances of winning those lovely prizes:
Meet contemporary YA an adult romance author Linda Kage at http://amielouellen.wordpress.com/
Meet contemporary, paranormal, and historical romance author Caroline Clemmons at http://authorjenniferjakes.blogspot.com/
Meet historical and paranormal romance writer Lilly Gayle at http://www.ajbooks.blogspot.com/
Meet Amie Louellen, author of fun and whimsical contemporary romance at http://lynneroberts.blogspot.com/
Meet author AJ Nuest at http://amycorwin.blogspot.com/
Meet author Lynne Roberts at http://www.jilljameswrites.com/
Meet paranormal romance author Maeve Greyson at http://www.katduncan.net/writeabout
Meet author Amy Corwin at http://lindakage.blogspot.com/
Meet contemporary and paranormal romance author Jill James at http://carolineclemmons.blogspot.com/
Meet romantic suspense author Kat Duncan at http://lillygayleromance.blogspot.com/
Friday, January 21, 2011
Do you ever listen to your intuition?
Let me give you a rundown of my day. I start every morning by reading my horoscope. Most of the time, it's just for fun - but every now and then it hits eerily close to home. I'm an Aquarius and this is the horoscope that popped up on my blackberry this morning:
Your intuition is keen today, Aquarius. Allow it to govern you through a difficult process you are about to begin. Not all Aquarians are comfortable listening to their inner voice. That's because, as a practical and intellectual air sign, you are more likely to opt for logic or science to guide you. But you actually have quite an exceptional level of extra sensory perception, and you need to learn to tune into it more often. If you do so today, you will navigate through a challenge with ease.
My initial reaction consisted of a shrug and a "hmm...wonder what that means?", then off to work I went. I arrived in the cold (eleven degrees Fahrenheit), dark parking lot and stepped out of my car to be met by the sweetest black dog with the saddest pair of eyes. Here’s a photo that my plant manager took with his blackberry:
My intuition nudged me. I knew this dog. Where had I seen him? It finally hit me. We've got closed circuit video cameras aimed at the staging area to watch the truck drivers securing their trailers before and after loading. Yesterday, I’d noticed a driver playing catch with his dog while waiting for his turn to load.
I logged on to my computer and searched through the screens until I finally found the portion of the tape I needed. There he was - my forlorn little friend galloping across my screen during a much happier playtime with his master. I double-checked the date/time stamp and zoomed in on the truck number. I was able to locate the trucking company by matching the truck number with the check-in log.
I hesitated about calling the driver’s dispatcher. I couldn't imagine a driver leaving his dog behind. Lots of drivers have dogs as companions on their lonely hauls and this furry friend was big enough to make a person think twice about bothering his master's truck.
A driver and his dog are inseparable. I couldn’t imagine the driver leaving his companion but I just knew this dog was the same one playing catch on the video tape.
I called the dispatcher and warned him that I had a rather odd question. I asked if he happened to know whether or not his driver had lost his dog? The dispatched didn't know but he agreed to contact the driver via cell phone.
The driver stated yes, he had in fact lost his dog while at our facility. While securing his load, his dog chased off a pack of stray dogs always running through our area. The driver had called, "Rocky" and searched for hours but had been forced to give up and leave out of fear of losing his job. He didn’t want to report the dog missing to the mill. Most places he’d loaded wouldn’t have helped him. The driver was ecstatic when he learned we'd found Rocky and asked that we'd please shelter him someplace warm since Rocky was not an outside dog. He promised, if we’d watch over him for just a little while, he’d return right away. He'd traveled 150 miles from our mill but was in the process of turning his big rig around. He’d be there as soon as he could get there.
Security and I stashed Rocky in the scale house office with a sausage and egg biscuit, water and a warm blanket. While she scaled in all the trucks, Rocky slept at her feet. Approximately three hours later, Rocky's rig pulled back into our lot. When his master whistled over the CB radio, Rocky's head popped up, ears perked to attention. As the driver walked through the door, Rocky transformed from a droopy tailed, unhappy dog into an exploding bundle of joy.
Rocky and his driver's happy ending made my day. I'm glad I read my horoscope this morning and listened to my intuition. Do you ever listen to yours?
Monday, January 17, 2011
Have you ever met a baby Draecna?
Four of us remain, doing our best to win your vote for Best Secondary Character. When they asked us to submit our excerpts, William was an easy choice. I fell in love with my little Draecna and I hope you do too. I’ve always loved dragons and my beloved Draecna’s in ETERNITY’S MARK have many dragon attributes. In case you haven’t been to RT’s site yet, here’s William’s description that’s battling for the win:
Bumbling and inquisitive as a big-footed pup, William won Hannah’s love the instant his shimmering green nose pushed through the shell. A wiggling bundle of iridescent scales topped with wings and horns, William’s likeness to the prints of the mythical dragons Hannah once studied is only contradicted by his newborn size. The first of the Draecna hatchlings released from the protective spell of his egg, William becomes the full-of-mischief, exasperating son Hannah never had. When he’s not providing the castle with Draecna flatulence to ignite into balls of fire, he continues to forget the wise admonition: “Never piss into the wind.” Under the tutelage of the elder Draecna’s, William struggles with learning the tenets of his race while waiting for the power of his first flame. When war breaks out, William matures quickly, protecting Hannah and unleashing his first blaze to avenge them all.
Below, you’ll find an excerpt from my story to help get you acquainted with William a bit better. If you’d like to help us survive Round Four, after you enjoy the excerpt – please pop over to RT’s site and give us your vote. There's also a place to leave a comment, if you like. Here’s the link:
http://www.rtbookreviews.com/content/writing-stars-vote-secondary-character
I know William appreciates your support – but not nearly as much as I do! *wink*
Excerpt:
“He’s pissing on his feet again.” Gearlach nodded in William’s direction where he stood bouncing and peeing a healthy stream of steaming white urine all over his over-sized feet.
“William!” Taggart snapped at the young Draecna and barely jumped out of the line of fire as William swung around in answer to Taggart’s call. “Dammit, boy! How many times do I have to tell ye? Ye do not piss into the wind.” Gads, he’d forgotten how much energy it took keeping a young hatchling in line.
William shook off his feet and wiped them on the backs of his legs as he glanced up at Taggart with a sheepish grin. “Don’t tell Mother, ‘kay?”
“She is not your mother, William. She is the honored Guardian.” Gearlach flicked at William’s wing with a crooked claw as he nudged the hatchling’s tail with his toe. “Have ye not looked in any of the mirrors in the castle? She’s not got a single scale, claw or wing on her scrawny wee body. She’s pink and soft, while we’re hideous, scaly monsters. Or at least that’s what most humans on this side of the portal think.”
William kicked at Gearlach’s monstrous, three-toed feet and pounded on his over-sized belly. “She said I could call her Mama or Mother if I wanted. She told me ‘twas proper ‘cause she helped me to get borned out of my shell.”
“When do ye start your lessons with Septamus?” Taggart interrupted. The hatchling’s butchering of his native tongue made him want to cringe.
“Septamus said Gearlach’s got to unteach me his stuff first. He told me I’ve got to be more mannerly afore he’ll fool with me.” William beamed a snaggle-toothed grin at Taggart and puffed out his scaly chest with pride.
Cutting his gaze over at Gearlach, Taggart dreaded the answer to the question he was about to ask. Gearlach had found an adoring protégé in William and Gearlach had barely reached maturity himself. “What have you done to the boy, Gearlach?”
With a chuckle, Gearlach nudged William with his foot while he stripped a tree branch to scrape the residue of his lunch from between his teeth. “Go on, William. Show him what we can do.”
Bouncing up and down, William clapped his claws together and bounded around the clearing. “Ye know I am too young to make flames just yet, but Gearlach lets me help.”
This couldn’t be good. Anytime Gearlach dabbled with fire, it didn’t end well. It’s a wonder the two hadn’t annihilated the entire tip of Scotland. “Gearlach if ye hurt the little one in any way, Hannah will kill us all. Ye know how she feels about him, right?” Taggart glared at the grinning Draecna with a sense of dread. What the hell had he taught little William to do?
“Now, Taggart. Ye know I’d never hurt the lad! We’ve done it dozens of times. Haven’t we, William?” Gearlach tossed his tree branch toothpick aside and nodded to the smiling young Draecna.
“Oh, aye!” Bending over, William flipped his tail over to one side, took a deep breath and strained. His face turned a deeper shade of green as he squeaked out a peeling fart that lasted several long seconds. “Now, Gearlach!” he shouted.
With a gentle puff, Gearlach sparked the Draecna methane bubble into a roiling ball of flames. It exploded into a brilliant circle of blazing sparks that roiled its way into the sky.
Covering his face with his hands, Taggart shook his head, then raked his hands through his hair. He stared at the beaming Gearlach then glanced over at William who stood waiting for his critique. “You two have set our kind backward in civilization over a thousand years. Do not do that again or I will spell ye both so that neither one of ye can either fart or breath fire again for several centuries. Do ye both understand me?”
His lower lip quivering just below his nubby fangs, William sniffed and stared down at his feet. “Gearlach said it was…was funny and quite talented. He said none of the other Draecna’s could do it.”
“Aye, well. He was right about none of the other Draecna’s doing it.” Taggart folded his arms across his chest and fixed Gearlach with a threatening glare. He couldn’t imagine where the fool had come up with the idea although Gearlach held an obsessed fascination with his flame and any type of explosion. “I hold Gearlach responsible, William. But ye’re getting old enough now to realize what ye should and shouldna do. And I want ye to start spending a great deal more time with Septamus rather than Gearlach. He’s a much better influence upon ye. Do ye understand me?”
“Aye.” William nodded and cut his flickering golden eyes over at Gearlach as if silently accusing him of sending him straight to the gallows.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
I am a FOUNT of useless information...
Anyway – here we go:
1. When plucking your eyebrows, make certain you are holding the CORRECT hair firmly with the tweezers because you WILL sneeze as soon as you begin to pull and it will come out leaving a bare patch –hopefully where you intended.
2. When you place twelve socks in the dryer, only eleven socks will come out. The twelfth sock is a sacrifice to the dryer god to prevent the dryer from breaking down BEFORE the last load is dry.
3. Speaking of socks: If you walk around the house in your sock feet, you will be the first to discover where the puppy had his accident and will also know how long ago said accident occurred by the warmth of the puddle.
4. If you visit your doctor for stomach problems and find yourself all alone – stripped down and waiting in the examination room: as soon as you give in to the explosive urge to release flatulence, the doctor will walk in the door.
5. You’re watching a movie you’ve been dying to see. It’s the last fifteen minutes of the flick and you’re about to find out whodunit and who’s gonna get the girl. ONE of the following will happen:
A. The phone will ring and from the number on caller ID, you know you can’t ignore the call.
B. If you’re on satellite, you will lose the signal and get a picture that looks like a mosaic and you’re missing the pieces you really need.
C. If you’re on cable, the power will go out.
D. For some unknown reason, your spouse will decide to have a meaningful conversation and expect you to respond.
6. You’ve completed your manuscript and prepared an award winning query letter. Everyone in the tri-state area has proofed it for typos and grammar. It’s perfect and ready to send to the editor/agent of your dreams. As soon as you hit the send button and take one last glance at the file saved to your copy folder, you notice a glaring error that your six year old granddaughter would’ve caught –if only you had let HER read it.
This is just the tip of the iceberg of all I’ve learned in my first fifty years on this spinning marble. I can’t wait to see what I’m going to discover during the NEXT fifty!
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Shh...Maeve doesn't know I'm on her computer
In case you don’t know, I’m Maeve’s writing partner and I REALLY need your help. You see, Maeve reads all her stories aloud to me and I let her know what I think. Old Maeve’s pretty perceptive and not half bad as a writer –for a human. But her tales have one problem that I just can’t seem to get corrected. Would you believe that woman doesn’t put enough dogs in her stories? It’s criminal!
BEYOND A HIGHLAND WHISPER (coming in February from The Wild Rose Press) only mentions a dog one time when Nessa (the heroine) says dogs are the only creatures capable of unconditional love. My Maeve nailed that one. Even though I’m sometimes forced to pee in her house-shoes to punish her for leaving me home alone, I’m doing it because I love her. AND I’ll always love her, no matter what. But she only mentions dogs ONE TIME in that story.
Her other story, ETERNITY’S MARK, is a little better. Hannah (the heroine) is a vet with an uncanny ability to know an animal’s thoughts. There’s a few more dogs in that story but not nearly enough to do us justice. By the way, ETERNITY’S MARK is the one she’s entered in some kind of contest. I think she called it Writing With the Stars? If you go to this link: http://www.rtbookreviews.com/content/writing-stars-vote-best-back-cover-blurb and vote for her, I would really appreciate it. Around here, if Maeve ain’t happy –NOBODY’S happy. She gets too quiet and wanders off into the woods when she's sad. Then I have to go find her and act like some sillly pup just to make her smile. You understand.
And one more thing, could someone please explain to me why it’s okay to pee on the trees in the yard but it’s NOT okay to pee on the fancy one that Maeve put in the house?
Whoops! Gotta go. I hear her heading this way. Remember, tell Maeve: MORE DOGS!
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