FREE first chapter read - and a summer to remember!
It’s been a summer to remember. I’ve missed a few weeks posting as a Pop
Culture Diva because my life’s been brimming over full and I’ve been on the
road more than I’ve been home. Living
out of a suitcase can be fun and romantic but it grows old too. My life ramped into high gear about April as
my twin daughters prepared to graduate from high school. After that milestone, life’s been a blur.
Since my daughters plan to build their lives on the East
Coast, I made a trip with them, first to New York City where my daughter Megan
plans to relocate and live, then on to Washington DC. My daughter Emily will be attending George
Mason University in nearby Fairfax, Virginia and I leave again in three days to
take her to move in her dorm room.
In the meantime, I’ve had several new releases, each of
which made a few bestseller rankings on Amazon.com and elsewhere, including Jove’s Passion and The Comanche Vampire.
My latest, an action packed contemporary romance, Ryker’s Justice, released on Thursday, a
day after my son started the eighth grade at our local junior high school. In addition to travel, my son’s new school,
writing, my everyday living, and more, my job as a substitute teacher in the
local district is changing. I won’t work
for the district any longer but for Penmac who will operate the substitute
teacher program. Lots of changes.
But here’s the blurb for my latest plus the entire first
chapter! Meet Jude Ryker!
Home for Jude Ryker is the rugged Ozark
Mountains. When he returns as a
Department of Justice agent to investigate a major moonshine operation, he
doesn’t share his assignment with anyone.
As far as the locals know, he’s back, like a bad penny. While he digs into the case for ATF, he puts
in time as a handyman at a local inn. When he meets guest Nicole McAdoo, he
wants more and before long, they in a relationship. He shares first with Nicole, then with his
family his true purpose. When he uncovers the truth about the moonshiners,
things get serious and could prove deadly – for them both.
Chapter
One
In
his natural element, Jude moved over the fallen autumn leaves with stealth, so
quiet that his feet made little sound.
The woods enveloped him as he blended with his surroundings. He belonged here and he knew it. Growing up as the youngest of the half wild
Ryker clan, he’d spent many childhood hours beneath these trees. Jude knew where the deer grazed beneath the
full moon, where the sweetest wild grapes grew, and how to track almost any
forest creature with success. He’d
hunted here, slept on this ground, and sought solace from nature as long as he
could remember. This forest nurtured his
spirit and often sustained his body when the cupboards at home were bare. When he left to join the Navy, he had grieved
at losing this patch of woods almost as much as he regretted leaving his family
behind.
Returning
to the old Ryker place, more ramshackle than he remembered, hadn’t been
easy. If he hadn’t been on assignment he
wouldn’t be here now. In his fifteen years away, he’d learned to appreciate the
sea and to let the never-ending waves provide a sense of comfort, but he’d
never forgotten the rocky hills and secret glens of his native Ozark Mountains.
Until now, he’d been back a handful of times, the most recent when his
father died in May. After spending a
week scrubbing away the grime of decades, cleaning until his back ached and
fingers bled, he had managed to make the old house habitable.
Jude
had burned most of the trash and debris he hauled out of the house. He
purchased both a new mattress and sheets for the bedroom, then bought a couple
of used recliners in town so he’d have a place to sit. No way in hell did Jude consider sitting on
any of his dad’s aged and stained furniture.
What he hadn’t burned, he’d stored in the barn.
On this October morning, he inhaled the loam of
the woods and savored it. The wind
brought a hint of wood smoke, a familiar fragrance. It reminded him he’d have to cut wood soon so
he could heat the old house. The first
frost of the season two weeks earlier had brought a chill to the long nights
but he’d hunkered under a heavy-duty sleeping bag and one of his late mother’s
old quilts found in a closet upstairs.
Although she had died when he was six, he remembered the smell of the
rose scent she favored, the soft timbre of her voice, and the loving
contentment he’d known in her arms.
Until she died, she’d rocked Jude, the youngest of the family, to sleep
every night and sang to him. The maple
rocker remained in the living room, although he hadn’t dared plant his muscular
frame in the seat. Having it there was
enough.
A
yellow leaf fluttered to the ground, slow and lazy. Jude hoisted the rifle he carried higher on
his left shoulder and scanned the treetops for squirrel. Fried squirrel sounded fine for supper or if
he wanted to make the effort, so did squirrel and dumplings. He hadn’t had either for years but he
remembered the taste. He’d grown up
eating game--squirrel, rabbit, venison, and deer, sometimes coon or wild
hog. The rest of the Ryker’s diet revolved
around hamburger, hot dogs, and bologna.
A pot of beans had simmered on the stove through the winter, seasoned
with ham if they had it, bacon if they didn’t.
His mom had made fried chicken, he recalled, but his father never did. Fried fish from the river, though, had been
another favorite.
He
sniffed the wind, hoping to catch the elusive aroma of cooking mash so he could
track down the still he suspected wasn’t far, but all he caught was the river’s
smell. Ten years in the Navy gave him an
appreciation for saltwater[A1] but he’d never abandoned his original
affection for a wild river. Five years
spent working as a special agent for the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms,
and Explosives had brought him back to the United States. Jude had been assigned everywhere from the
California coast and the urban sprawl of Washington D.C., to the Appalachian
mountains, but when ATF got serious about busting a major moonshine operation
in the Ozarks, they pegged him as the agent for the job.
No
one but his supervisors knew why Jude Ryker returned home, not even his
brothers. Everyone assumed he’d exited
the military for whatever reason and being a Ryker, considered shiftless in the
eyes of the community, he’d crawled home because he had no place else to go. His brothers had never left so his prodigal
return had been long expected. Local
gossip said no Ryker could make it long in the outside world and although he’d
spent a decade in the Navy, on ship and later as a submariner, no one figured
Jude to be an exception. None of the
rest of his family had gone anywhere.
They followed the expected pattern and even his brothers’ successes
weren’t acknowledged by the locals.
Adam
still worked at the feed mill, Noah as a supervisor at the poultry processing
plant, and Elijah taught wood shop at the county high school. His two sisters, Abigail and Esther, were
both married with children. His siblings
welcomed him back with the devoted yet casual sense of family they’d always
shared. When necessary, they were tight
and connected. Adam remained closest to
Jude, friend as well as brother, but he hadn’t even shared with Adam his real
reason for return.
I should’ve asked Adam to come squirrel
hunting with me, Jude thought, but he dismissed the idea as quickly as it
came. He couldn’t, not when he scouted
around for any evidence of a still nearby.
He doubted anyone would dare to trespass enough to put their still on
Ryker land but it wasn’t impossible either.
With Daddy dead for more than five years and Jude absent until last
spring, someone might think their presence might go unprotected. And if they had, Jude figured they’d pulled
up stakes since he came back in May.
But
he believed the still to be close, probably on one of the adjacent
properties. If he could discover it,
then he’d make major progress in identifying the participants, making the bust,
and shutting down the illegal liquor operation in the county. He’d accepted the duty and he would carry it
out.
Right
now, though, he wanted to enjoy the morning in the woods, shoot a few
squirrels, and just be Jude, not Special Agent Ryker. So he ambled through the woods along the
familiar paths. He savored the minimal
warmth of the late October sunshine filtering through the trees. His feet moved across the forest floor and
when he came out of the woods to the riverbank[A2] , he paused to admire the water.
Sunlight
danced across the surface and highlighted the ripples. The current moved fast here, always had. Across, on the opposite bank, Cockrell’s
Country Inn stood as silent as a sentinel and cast a shadow over the
water. The frame structure dated back to
the early 1900s and although Jude remembered when it sat empty and almost
derelict, the owners had refurbished it in recent years. Rick and Mary Cockrell had accomplished the
near impossible by turning it into a viable inn with a good business. Since he came home, he’d worked for them as a
handyman when needed. It made as good a
cover as any.
He
tilted his head up to gaze at the second story and when a curtain fluttered,
Jude grinned. The room belonged, at the
moment, to Nicole McAdoo. He knew little
else about her but her name but she’d intrigued him from the day she arrived at
the inn. He’d spoken to her, a polite
good morning or an evening how-do-you-do but nothing more, although he wanted
to very much. Jude ached to know why her
eyes were shadowed with sadness and why she seldom smiled. He’d like to be the guy who made those eyes
sparkle and those lips curve into a sweet smile.
Aware
of her gaze, he lifted one hand in greeting.
He hadn’t expected a response and thought she’d probably jump back from
the window, startled. Instead, Nicole
opened it and leaned out. “Hello, Jude Ryker!”
A
grin spread across his face. Her
boldness came as a surprise but it pleased him.
She’d seemed too timid to hail him from across the river. “Hello,
yourself, Nicole,” he shouted back with a wave.
Then, before the encounter could turn into a calling match sure to
attract attention, he turned back into the cover of the trees. Later, he vowed, he’d get better acquainted
with the lady.
For
now, though, he did as he’d planned and scouted the perimeter of the land in
search of any clues or evidence. He
found nothing out of the way and by the time the sun stood straight overhead,
his empty stomach rumbled. Jude settled
down at the base of a favorite tree, a broad oak so wide it had to be at least
a century old. After resting his .22 rifle
against the trunk, he dug out a bologna and cheese sandwich from his backpack. He ate it without haste, savoring each bite
of the simple lunch with relish. The
solitude rested easy on his soul as he ate. He washed the sandwich down with a
bottle of strong, sweet iced tea he’d brewed that morning.
During
moments like this he didn’t regret coming back.
Sometimes he considered what it might be like if he’d come home without
an assignment and could stay. After
years aboard first battleships, then submarines, then time spent as a special
agent pursuing a wide spectrum of criminals, life in the Ozarks offered
possibilities he’d love to explore. As a
single guy, he’d managed to save a fair amount of money over the years. When Daddy was alive, he’d sent money home
each month but after his death, Jude had no other family obligations.
Leaning
against the oak, he contemplated coming back on a permanent basis. A lazy lifestyle with no supervisors and no
duties appealed to him. He could hunt
and fish to his heart’s content, keep up his handyman duties at the inn, maybe
even expand and offer odd jobs to the public.
His choices would be his own, his decisions self-dictated, not career
driven. Maybe, he thought, maybe
after this assignment, I’ll think about it.
Comfortable,
he heaved a contented sigh and shut his eyes.
He slept little most nights, consumed with desire to find the
moonshiners and shut down their operation.
The past haunted him, too, sometimes.
Although he didn’t believe in ghosts, at night he often thought he heard
the floorboards creak or caught the smell of his mother’s perfume. Memories, the good and the ugly, assaulted
him and kept him awake.
In
the quiet forest, he let the bird songs lull him to sleep. A squirrel chattered overhead, fussing at
Jude’s intrusion, and if he concentrated he could hear the quiet gurgle of the
river. Distant highway sounds, an
eighteen wheeler shifting gears, and the whine of steel-belted radials against
the pavement filtered through the other sounds but they didn’t disturb. Completely relaxed, Jude drifted into a light sleep, aware that if
anything happened, he’d wake. He’d been
trained to rouse at the slightest interruption and he knew he would.
No
dreams came and when he woke, Jude judged by the sun’s position that he’d slept
about two hours. Time to bag a few squirrels and head home, he decided. He rose and stretched his tall, muscular
frame. He marched through the woods,
quiet and with cunning. Unless the tree
rats had changed their habits, he knew where to find a large squirrel
population. When he reached the site,
the animals scampered overhead. He aimed
and fired, bringing down the critter with a single head shot. Jude got two more and decided three would be
enough for his solitary supper. He field-dressed
them to save time and headed for home through the woods.
Jude
washed them at the huge, old-fashioned kitchen sink and cut each into four
pieces. He tossed them into a bowl,
added water and a little salt, then stuck them into the ancient
refrigerator. To pass the time, he
sifted a little flour and cornmeal together, then added some seasonings from
the cupboard. A little salt, a bit of
pepper, some Cajun seasoning blend, a dash of onion powder, and a hint of
garlic would do, he decided. On impulse,
Jude shook a little cayenne pepper into the mixture, too.
As
he glanced at the clock to see if he had time to split some wood, his cell
phone on the counter buzzed. “Ryker,” he
said as he answered, in case his supervisor phoned.
“Jude?”
Mary Cockrell, who ran the inn with her husband, said. “Are you busy?”
Supper
could wait. “No,” he drawled. “What’s up?”
“I’ve
got an electrical outlet that fried,” she told him. “And the bar sink won’t
drain again. Can you come fix them?”
“Sure,
I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
Mary
laughed with relief. “Oh, thank you. You know I love you, Jude?”
The
woman had to be sixty, at least. He
chuckled. “I know, Mary, like the son you never had.”
“Exactly
right and I’ll see you when you get here.”
He
changed out of his hunting camouflage into faded jeans and a snap-button
Western shirt. As soon as he pulled on
his oldest cowboy boots, Jude headed out to the truck, a beat-up forest green
Ford, and drove to the inn. If he hadn’t
had to cross the river, he could’ve been there in five minutes, not fifteen.
After
he parked across the narrow two-lane old highway, Jude paused for a moment to
look at the place. The grey clapboard
structure dated to 1910 or 1915 with its high gables and full porch. It sprawled out in haphazard fashion, some
sections added over the years to the original.
Crisp white curtains covered each window and the vintage rocking chairs
on the porch sent out an invitation to unwind.
The place radiated homey charm and he liked it.
With
toolbox in hand, he mounted the porch steps and entered the lobby. A fire crackled in the massive fieldstone
fireplace to his left and the desk loomed empty. Jude rang the shop bell on the counter and
waited for Mary or her husband Rick.
When he heard footsteps on the stairs behind him, he didn’t turn around
but he knew they didn’t belong to either of the Cockrell’s.
“Hello,
Jude,” Nicole said. He would recognize her voice anywhere, a little deep for a
woman with the rich, sweet sound of honey in her tone. “You made it back from the woods, I see.”
A
grin stretched his lips as he faced her. “Oh, yeah, I did.”
Nicole’s
perfume wafted across the lobby and he inhaled it with pleasure. The sweet aroma of summer roses filled his
nose and his body prickled with anticipation.
After he did the jobs, he thought maybe he’d linger at the inn awhile.
His
planned fried squirrel supper could wait.
Available at
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