drink of beer and let out a satisfied sigh. Life didn’t get any better than this.
The Cowboys won the toss and lined up to receive the kickoff. The Steelers kicker took off toward the ball.
And there was a knock at his door.
Marc whipped around. Somebody at his door? In this storm?
Brandy leaped up and started barking. Marc grabbed the remote. With his old TV, he could find the Pause button in his sleep. But as he rose from his recliner, he was still fumbling around for it. Where the hell…?
There.
He hit the button on his way out of the room, tossed the remote down, and went to the entry hall. He opened the door. He blinked. Blinked again. And he still couldn’t believe what he saw.
A woman stood on his porch. Her hair was hanging in a dripping wad on one side of her head, and rain dripped off her nose. Raindrops clung to her eyelashes, shimmering in the dim porch light. Considering the storm, all that made sense. But what the hell was that monstrosity she was wearing? She looked like Glinda the Good Witch after a bout of mud wrestling.
But as he looked her up and down, light slowly dawned, and he had the feeling the first day of his new life had just gone straight to hell.
She was dripping wet. She was dirty from head to toe. She looked lost and lonely and helpless.
And she was wearing a wedding dress.
THE DISH
Where Authors Give You the Inside Scoop
From the desk of Debra Webb
Dear Reader,
It’s very exciting to be back again this month with RAGE, the fourth installment of the Faces of Evil series.
Writing a series can be a challenge. There are many threads related to the plots and the characters that have to be kept in line and moving forward (sometimes the characters like to go off on paths of their own!). Former Special Agent Jess Harris and Birmingham Chief of Police Dan Burnett have their hands full as usual. Murder hits close to home in this story and takes us to the next level of evil: rage. We’ve explored obsession, impulse, and power already and there are many more to come. The face of evil is rarely easy to spot. But Jess and Dan won’t rest until they solve the case and ensure the folks of Birmingham are safe.
While I was writing this story, a new character joined the cast. I wasn’t expecting a new character to appear on the page and demand some special attention, but Dr. Sylvia Baron, Jefferson County associate coroner, has a mind of her own. She stepped onto the page in her designer stilettos and her elegant business attire and told me exactly what she wanted to do. From hello Jess and Sylvia butt heads. The two keep Dan on his toes!
I hope you’ll stop by www.thefacesofevil.com and visit with me. There’s a weekly briefing each Friday where I talk about what’s going on in my world and with the characters as I write the next story. You can sign up as a person of interest and you might just end up a suspect!
Enjoy the story and be sure to look for Revenge coming in July and Ruthless in August!
Happy reading!
From the desk of Roxanne St. Claire
I packed a lot of emotional themes and intense subjects into my writer’s beach bag when I penned BAREFOOT IN THE SUN, from faith and trust to life-threatening illness and life-altering secrets. The Happily Ever After is hard-won and bittersweet, but that seems to come with the Barefoot Bay territory. The heroine, Zoe Tamarin, has to overcome a tendency to run away when life goes south, and the hero, Oliver Bradbury, must learn that, despite his talents as a doctor, he can’t fix everything. During their reunion romance, Zoe and Oliver grow to understand the power of a promise, the joy of a second chance, and the awesome truths told by Mother Nature.
But this is Barefoot Bay, so it can’t be all heartache and healing!
In lighter moments, Oliver and Zoe play. They kiss (a lot), they laugh (this is Zoe!), they swim (some might call it skinny dipping), and occasionally Zoe whips out her deck of cards for a rockin’ round of Egyptian Rat Screws (ERS).
I’ve mentioned Zoe’s penchant for ERS in other books, and readers have written to ask about the card game. Many want to know the origin of the name, which, I have to admit, is a complete mystery to me, as the