TAGLINE: The attraction: complete madness
or sheer magic?
BLURB:
Investigator
Nick Forrester comes to Cape Brendan ostensibly to assist with Caper Madness, a
month long celebration of everything Halloween. In reality he is tracking a
woman on the run. Within days he is confronted with Annunciata Doyle, a vivid
reminder of a pain-filled past.
After
retreating to Cape Brendan in defeat and humiliation, Nunie Doyle's only hope
was to make the best of forced retirement. Here, in this quaint tourist town on
the shores of Lake Ontario, she has earned the respect of friends and
neighbors—and put her talent for helping women to good use.
With the
mutual goal of making Caper Madness the best ever, Nick and Nunie fight tooth
and nail on the personal level while discovering new sides to the other. Sides
that make them consider making drastic changes for the rest of their lives.
This
attraction: complete madness—or sheer magic?
EXCERPT:
Hank let out a
holler just before a huge toothy grin spanned the borders of his gaunt cheeks.
“Top o' the marnin' to ye, Missus!” he cackled to someone exiting the front
door of the stone cottage next door.
Taking the
concrete steps to the sidewalk in two lithe moves, a woman in a slinky dress
the color of ripe tomatoes glanced their way and responded in a distinct Irish
brogue. “And the ass end of the day to ye, Mistur Pierpont.”
Intrigued by
rich tone of her voice, Nick craned his neck and found one of the witches from
yesterday's parade—minus the droopy velvet hat—passing within steps of Hank's
porch. A bulging garment bag hung over one arm; she looked headed in the
direction of the pier at the end of Vincentian Lane. Damned if right then a
wind didn't jump up off the lake and mold the filmy length of scarlet against
each curve of her body. Long black hair—and there seemed to be a good ten
pounds of it—flowed over her shoulders, caressing her body like a lover as she
marched toward Dingle Pier. As his heart bumped into a trip hammer beat, Nick
reminded himself to breathe.
“Ferget yer
broom, Missus?” Hank called out to her retreating back.
“In the repair
shop,” she replied over one shoulder, winging that glorious onyx hair away from
lips painted to match her dress. “Gettin' fitted with a couple of those fancy
turbo boosters, it is.”
Hank chuckled,
then went back to his coffee. “Turbo boosters. That Nunie Doyle sure is a
pistol.”
An invisible
fist reached down to grab Nick's gut in a vise. As recognition flared, long
buried rage took a slow crawling path up his spine.
AUTHOR BIO:
Writing under
the names Kat Henry Doran and Veronica Lynch, author Kathy Cottrell uses her
experiences as a nurse, then victim advocate and insurance investigator for
background in her award winning novels and novellas. Her stories are sent in her
favorite places to visit: the Catskill and Adirondack Mountains as well as the
historic 1,000 Islands region of Northern New York State.
When not
writing, and chasing grand children, Kathy spends her time designing and making
tote bags and aprons to custom order.
Email: wildwomenauthors@yahoo.com
Blogs: www.WildWomenAuthorsx2.blogspot.com
