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Spotlight AUTHOR B.J. DANIELS: MERCY

Author Q&A for B.J. Daniels Mercy

1.) Can you tell us a little bit about your upcoming release, Mercy?

I’ve never done a serial killer book because I like murders that are more personal. When I began writing MERCY (I write by the seat of my pants without any idea where the story is going until the characters tell me) I saw the opening and thought, “What is this about?”

The next thing I knew, I was on the trail of a possible serial killer with my rogue U.S. marshal Rourke Kincaid. I loved his perseverance (something writers know well.)
He took me for quite a ride before the book was finished. I ended up in the hospital at 3 a.m., 20 degrees below zero outside, with my first migraine. MERCY, the 5th book in the Beartooth, Montana series, became the book that almost killed me – and my first serial killer book.

2.) How did you come up with the title?

At the end of the first chapter, my killer is telling her victim to “Beg for mercy.” But to me the title is more about having been given mercy (compassion, love, understanding) at some point in our lives and how that makes us the people we are.
When I was doing research on serial killers, I became fascinated by how one person in the same type of family situation becomes a killer and the other person doesn’t.

3.) The cover illustration overlooks a small town. Can you tell us how this cover sets the tone for the book?

I write about small towns because that’s what I know. The Beartooth series takes place in and around a small Montana town where everyone knows everyone else – and their business. But there are always secrets. Also, things work differently in places where everyone knows each other, so I have more leeway when it comes to even how law enforcement operates.

4.) You said that the books that you struggle with the most are the ones that you end up loving the most. Can you talk about the writing process for Mercy?
You mean the book that tried to kill me? I do love this book though because of it. It was hard to write, but they say write what you know. I often write about characters from dysfunctional families. I grew up in one though I later realized there were families a whole lot worse than mine. Instead of becoming a serial killer, I became a writer. We both live in fantasy worlds where we settle scores, get revenge, make those in the wrong get what they have coming to them (at least what we think they have coming to them.)
Where I struggled with MERCY was giving the reader enough information and yet not giving away who the killer really was. I didn’t want any of them to be the killers at one point. I cared too much about them and what they’d been through. I kept telling myself that I was wrong about who I suspected. There had to be someone else who did the killings. Talk about denial.
Also this book took a twist I wasn’t expecting. I think all authors draw on their own life experiences. A lot of me and my life ends up in my books. I grew up with a mother who was…somewhat psychic. It scared her. I often wondered how that ability (who knows how strong it was since she fought it) would shape a person’s life – or torture that person.
So it was bound to end up in one of my books.

5.) Was there a scene in this book that was harder to write than others?

I often struggle with the action scene during the climax. I just feel as if every fight scene has been done. It’s easier to figure out how the good guys get the upper hand than the choreography of the fight.

6.) What was your favorite part of the book to write?

I loved creating all of the characters. I felt I knew them by the end. That’s why I didn’t want any of them to be guilty of the murders. They all wanted to be good people, but they were flawed and struggling with the hand they’d been dealt. We all know it isn’t fair to blame your childhood once you’re an adult, but that childhood is what shaped you and some people fight and fight to overcome it and just can’t.

7.) Can you tell us a bit more about the town of Beartooth, MT and the people who live there?

They are mostly rural people who appreciate where they live and don’t want it to change. They are often suspicious of newcomers. I know when I moved to a very small Montana town eight years ago, people kept asking me why I’d done such a thing. There are always those who dream of going to a bigger city. They are usually the ones who never leave though. So Beartooth and the community around it are people who know each other, who depend on each other and take care of their own.

8.) How do the dual locations of Seattle, WA and Beartooth, MT add to the story?

It’s interesting but when people leave Montana for the big city it is often Seattle. It is surprising how many Montanans end up there because of better paying jobs.
But in this story you have a marshal who is like a fish out of water in a small town like Beartooth. Of the two women in the story, most people go to a big city to disappear but Cassie came to a small Montana town. Laura is a prime example of someone leaving Montana for greener grasses.

9.) How much research went into portraying a serial killer?

I can laugh about it now but a year ago the first week of September I took a whole stack of research books on serial killers and headed for the mountains. I was off the grid for a week and did nothing but read about serial killers. I swear between the grizzly bears that wandered through camp and the serial killer true stories, I had nightmares.

10.) Did things get too real when writing this book?

They did get too real in this book. I remember interviewing Tim Cahill years ago when I worked for the newspaper. He was writing Buried Dreams: Inside the Mind of a Serial Killer, the story of John Wayne Gacy. I remember him telling me that his wife hated it when he came home after interviewing Gacy. He said it was impossible not to bring it home with him and that thoughts of it lasted for years.

11.) Did you base the character of Callie Westfield on anyone?

I base my characters on no one and everyone. I’ve known people who did well in life and others who didn’t. I’ve always been curious about what made them the way they were.
Callie had a classic serial killer background. One characteristic of a serial killer that I found very telling in my research was the person’s relationship with his/her mother. The mother seemed the key.

12.) Can you tell us a little bit about Rourke Kincaid’s internal struggle?
If you have ever loved someone you shouldn’t, then you know what Rourke is going through. Love picks us sometimes, not the other way around. It is hard to go into something like that with rational thinking. You know you shouldn’t for so many reasons and yet when you see that person, all rational thought goes out the window.
Also don’t most of us think love can conquer all? Even as we are getting in deeper, we make excuses. We tell ourselves that we’re fine, that we can get out at any time. Or worse, that the other person will change.
If this wasn’t true, then there wouldn’t be so many bad relationships where the warning signs were apparent before the couple went into it – and yet they couldn’t seem to help themselves.

13.) Who would play Callie and Rourke in a movie?

I would love Amy Smart for Cassie and Alanna Uvbach for Laura. For Rourke…Paul Walker!

14.) What is the best advice you received when writing Mercy?

To not give up. It is hard sometimes. I would go home after work and tell my husband that this could be the book that never gets finished. He always says, “Oh, you’ll be fine. You always finish them.” He’s not helpful.

15.) What do you want people to take away from reading this book?

I hope they enjoy the mystery and the romance and it takes them away for however many hours it takes them to read it. I don’t kid myself. I write escape fiction. It’s okay too if I scare them a little. Mercy intrigued and scared me. Ultimately, there are some people who can’t be saved – or let loose on the rest of society.

16.) What is your next project?

The Beartooth, Montana series continues with the six-book series: The Montana Hamiltons. The first book, WILD HORSES, will be out in March, followed by LONE RIDER, in July. It is the stories of the six Hamilton sisters. Their father, Senator Buckmaster Hamilton, is running for president of the United States. But as each of his daughters find romance – and trouble – it threatens his candidacy. The future of the country hangs in the balance by the sixth book because Buckmaster has a mystery of his own.
http://www.bjdaniels.com

Praise for
New York Times bestselling author

B. J. DANIELS

“Daniels is truly an expert
at Western romantic suspense.”
—RT Book Reviews on Atonement

“Will keep readers on the edge of their chairs from beginning to end.”
—Booklist on Forsaken

“Action-packed and chock-full of suspense.”
—Under the Covers on Redemption

“Fans of Western romantic suspense will relish Daniels’ tale of clandestine love
played out in a small town on the Great Plains.”
—Booklist on Unforgiven

Also available from
B.J. Daniels
and Harlequin HQN

ATONEMENT FORSAKEN REDEMPTION UNFORGIVEN

B. J. DANIELS

If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

Recycling programs for this product may not exist in your area.

ISBN-13: 978-0-373-77895-9

Mercy

Copyright © 2014 by Barbara Heinlein

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereinafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage
or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin HQN, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A. For questions and comments about the quality of this book,
please contact us at CustomerService@Harlequin.com.

® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Enterprises Limited or its corporate affiliates. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.

Printed in U.S.A.

I joke that this book tried to kill me. I realize now that the ones that really grab me are the ones that I struggle with and end up loving the most. This one grabbed me and wouldn’t let go. So this book is dedicated
to the man who saw me through it, even the three a.m. trip to the hospital with my f irst migraine.

To my husband, Parker, who takes good care of me so I can just write. I couldn’t be more grateful for your loving support or the wonderful meals you cook me
or the patience you have deadline after deadline.
I couldn’t do this without you. I love you.

CHAPTER NINE

there waS no traffic on the two-lane north of Big Tim- ber at this time of the night. Laura wasn’t that wor- ried about deer on the highway either. There was an almost full moon that turned the landscape silver. After driving in Seattle for so many years with traffic at all hours, day or night, this was a treat.
She hadn’t been back to Montana since her mother had awakened her in the middle of the night and rushed her downstairs to an old pickup waiting just outside. She’d never seen the man behind the wheel before or since. She just remembered her mother paying him when they reached the bus station in some distant town. Most of her life she hadn’t known even the name of the town where they’d moved to before her mother lost her job and they had to move again.
That time, when she’d awakened, they were in Mich- igan. When she asked what was going on, her mother told her they were making a new start and she was never to mention the past again.
Tonight Rourke had been surprised to hear not only that her mother was alive, but also living nearby in a small Montana town. She shouldn’t be angry with him for knowing so little about her. When he’d first asked about her family, she’d let him think her mother was dead. She’d made the mistake of mentioning her sis-

ter, Catherine, only once, but Rourke hadn’t forgotten. He’d asked if she was coming for a visit.
What he didn’t know was that she hated her sister’s visits. They were only once a year, fortunately. She couldn’t keep Catherine away longer.
She never talked about her family. Nor did she tell anyone else. She’d put that life behind her years ago. But she especially didn’t want Rourke knowing. The last thing she wanted was his pity.
Given that she knew everything about him, it did seem unfair that he knew nothing about her. He’d been raised on a ranch in Wyoming. When his parents had re- tired, they’d sold the ranch and left him enough money that he never had to work. When his parents were killed in a small-plane crash, he’d already graduated from col- lege, been working in law enforcement and had finally crossed her path at the Seattle P.D.
If she was honest with herself, she’d always be- lieved that fate had thrown the two of them together. Seeing him again had made her realize that she’d al- ways thought that someday they would be a couple. She knew it was crazy and certainly the feeling was all on her side. Rourke had never had an interest in her other than as a cop. Why she’d thought that would change, she had no idea.
It didn’t keep it from hurting, though. Her psychia- trist insisted that if she told Rourke how she felt, she would finally be able to move past it.
Well, the best she could do now was to try to keep him alive, she thought as she came over a hill and saw the rotating white blades of the Judith Gap wind farm in the distance.
Closer, she could see the lights of Harlowton, Mon-

98 mercy

tana, ahead. All her misgivings about coming here hit her in a rush. For all she knew, her mother was already dead, taking her secrets with her.
Laura’s foot came up off the accelerator. It wasn’t too late to turn around. Or she could get a motel in town and get out of here tomorrow.
She felt that old tightening in her stomach at even the thought of seeing her mother. She didn’t want to be here. What was the point in digging up all those bad memories?
Ahead, she saw the highway sign. Turn around or drive into the heart of the small Montana town to her mother’s house, where she couldn’t even conceive what might be waiting for her?

rourke hadn’t been able to sleep after Laura left. He’d traveled light to Montana, so it hadn’t taken long to get settled into the cabin. The fall night was still warm, although there was talk of an early winter storm com- ing in later in the week.
Restless, he stepped out on the cabin porch into the moonlit night. Laura’s visit had left him shaken. So much of what she’d said made sense. So why did all his instincts tell him she was wrong?
Knowing he wasn’t going to get any sleep, he de- cided to go for a walk. As he headed down the mountain into town, he looked at the small western community. The old buildings shone in the moonlight. The café was closed, had been for hours. Nor were there any lights in the apartment over it. Callie would be asleep like the other few residents who actually lived in and around Beartooth. Even the Range Rider bar was closed, al- though several pickups were still parked out front.

Some of the cowboys must have hitched a ride home rather than drive.
As he was headed back up the main drag, he heard an engine start up. A moment later, the glow of head- lights poured out onto the two-lane highway that was Beartooth’s main street.
Without thinking, he stepped back into the shadows as the old pickup turned in his direction. He stayed pressed against one of the old building’s stone walls as the driver passed.
Callie. He recognized her in the glow of her dash lights. Her hair was down, skimming her shoulders, her face pale in the dim light.
Rourke cursed himself for being without his own vehicle as he checked the time on his cell phone. Where was the woman going at a quarter after three in the morning?
Stepping out of his hiding place, he watched her taillights grow dimmer and thought about Laura’s con- viction that Callie was the killer he’d come looking for.
She touched her brakes at the end of town near the old gas station and garage. Turning, she headed back toward the Crazy Mountains.
Where did that road go? He didn’t know, but he planned to find out. Just as he would find out who she was going to meet in the wee hours of the morning up the mountain road.
He ran back to the cabin, jumped into his rented SUV and took off down the road in the direction Callie had gone. He kept thinking about the first time he’d seen her. His reaction still surprised him. Was Laura right? Was he obsessed with this woman and had been since he’d seen her face in a crime-scene photo?

100

mercy

If he was being honest, he’d had a theory since the first time he’d seen her image and realized she’d been at three crime scenes. He’d never thought she was a co-killer. But she was connected to the murders be- cause she knew who the killer was. Why she hadn’t come forward…well, he didn’t know. Like he said, it was just a theory.
He couldn’t explain it, even to himself. Just this gut feeling… He hadn’t shared his theory with Laura for obvious reasons. She had made it clear how she felt. Both of their reasonings seemed clouded by their own personal feelings. Laura really believed he was fall- ing for this woman.
He shook his head at the thought as he drove. He’d always trusted his instincts. But at the back of his mind was an inkling of worry that he was wrong. Dead wrong.
Rourke reminded himself of what was at stake as he turned and headed back into the Crazies, as the lo- cals called the mountains that shadowed the town of Beartooth. The gravel road narrowed quickly, turning to dirt. He had to slow down. When he came to a fork in the road, he stopped, unsure which route she would have taken since he didn’t know the area.
He tried the road to the right since it appeared to go deeper into the thickest wooded side of the moun- tains, but a few miles up the 4×4 trail, he finally had to turn around. The area was a honeycomb of old log- ging roads. She could have taken any one of them.
As he drove back to his cabin, he realized he wasn’t so sure about his theory anymore. Laura could be right. That sweet-faced woman who haunted his dreams

could very well be a serial killer who, since it was al- most October, was now looking for her next victim.
Or she could be somewhere in those mountains with the man who did her killing for her. In that case, who had she already chosen for her next victim?

Praise for
New York Times bestselling author

B. J. DANIELS

“Daniels is truly an expert
at Western romantic suspense.”
—RT Book Reviews on Atonement

“Will keep readers on the edge of their chairs from beginning to end.”
—Booklist on Forsaken

“Action-packed and chock-full of suspense.”
—Under the Covers on Redemption

“Fans of Western romantic suspense will relish Daniels’ tale of clandestine love
played out in a small town on the Great Plains.”
—Booklist on Unforgiven

Also available from
B.J. Daniels
and Harlequin HQN

ATONEMENT FORSAKEN REDEMPTION UNFORGIVEN

B. J. DANIELS

If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

Recycling programs for this product may not exist in your area.

ISBN-13: 978-0-373-77895-9

Mercy

Copyright © 2014 by Barbara Heinlein

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereinafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage
or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin HQN, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A. For questions and comments about the quality of this book,
please contact us at CustomerService@Harlequin.com.

® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Enterprises Limited or its corporate affiliates. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.

Printed in U.S.A.

I joke that this book tried to kill me. I realize now that the ones that really grab me are the ones that I struggle with and end up loving the most. This one grabbed me and wouldn’t let go. So this book is dedicated
to the man who saw me through it, even the three a.m. trip to the hospital with my f irst migraine.

To my husband, Parker, who takes good care of me so I can just write. I couldn’t be more grateful for your loving support or the wonderful meals you cook me
or the patience you have deadline after deadline.
I couldn’t do this without you. I love you.

rourke breathed in the sweet, mysterious scent of Callie Westfield as his mouth took possession of hers again.
She moaned, sending his already pounding heart drumming harder. He wanted this woman, wanted to get under her skin, wanted to know her intimately. He knew how dangerous it was. He didn’t care. She’d

been a mystery to him for too long. Now she was in his arms, her mouth opening invitingly to his, her breath mingling with his, her tongue—
Callie suddenly pulled back, her gaze locking with his again. He was breathing hard. He didn’t want to let go of her.
She took a breath, her cheeks f lushed. Her arms moved from around his neck. She pressed her palms against the front of his shirt—but she didn’t push him away, and he didn’t loosen his hold on her, afraid if he did she would slip away.
He watched her catch her breath, her dark eyes search- ing his face before her gaze locked again with his.
“Tell me I’m not wrong about you,” she whispered. “Tell me I’m wrong about you,” he wanted to plead, but instead he said, “I guess that depends on what
you’re thinking about me right now.”
Her smile was slow, her eyes bright with moonlight and desire. “That you’re going to break my heart.”
“I hope not. I sure don’t want to.”
She cocked her head, studying him. “You don’t know how much I wish I could read your thoughts right now.” “You would be disappointed. I don’t think much with you in my arms, and when you’re kissing me, my only thought is your mouth.” The truth of that made him smile. He certainly wasn’t thinking like a U.S. marshal. He could hear Laura’s warning. Don’t get too close. He realized he could have just kissed his first
serial killer.
“Have you had your heart broken before?” he asked, curious as both a man and a marshal.
Callie pushed back gently, still studying him. He loosened his hold, and she slipped from his arms, turn-

ing her back to him. He took a deep breath, mentally kicking himself for spoiling the moment. He let the breath out slowly as she picked up her empty beer bot- tle and glass.
“That was probably a mistake,” she said, her back to him.
“If you’re talking about that kiss, nope, that was definitely not a mistake.”
She turned to look at him, eyes narrowing. “And if
I was talking about something else?”
He wanted to say that only time would tell. Instead, he joked, “The mistake was stopping kissing. But then, maybe it wasn’t.”
She smiled. “I’ll bite. Why not?”
“Because if we hadn’t stopped, you would have wanted to make love in the moonlight by the lake.”
Callie laughed. “Is that right?” “I’m certain of it.”
“What about you?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.
“Oh, I think you could have persuaded me, but I
prefer to wait until the third date—not the first.”
She chuckled. “You’re considering this a first date?” He grinned and rubbed his thumb slowly along his
lower lip. “First kiss. First date, don’t you think?” Shaking her head, she smiled at him. She had a
great smile. Sometimes it even reached her eyes. “Think you can sleep now?” he asked.
She nodded slowly. Was that disappointment or re- lief he saw in her eyes?
“Good, then you don’t mind if I follow you as far as town,” he said, taking her glass and bottle from her

and picking up his own. “I would hate to see you run into Carson Grant again tonight.”

laura couldn’t Sleep. Like a scene out of a Poe tale, she could hear the trunk under her bed calling to her. Giving up fighting it any longer, she climbed out of bed and dragged out the trunk.
She realized she had no choice but to open it. She had to see what was inside. Her fingers trembled as she pulled out the key to the padlock, and then in a fit of terror, she shot to her feet to pace back and forth. Her mind listed all the reasons she should have de- stroyed the contents.
Reaching for her phone, she started to call her psy- chiatrist, but stopped herself. She knew what he’d say. The same thing he had been saying all along. She had to face her past, shine light on those dark holes of blank memory from her childhood and face her fears.
She stopped pacing to stare at the trunk. Why hadn’t she burned everything like she’d planned? Because she had to know all of it. Her mother had saved it for her. Saved it for this moment when she came face-to- face with her past.
Wasn’t it possible there would be something in the trunk that would prove Callie was the killer?
If she had any hope of saving Rourke…
But she feared it was too late. “No, it won’t be too late until he finds himself tied to a bed and a knife to his throat,” she said to the empty room.
Her mother had hidden this trunk in the basement. Locked it so no one else could see what was inside. Maybe especially her sister, Catherine?
That thought made her head hurt. She saw the clock

by the bed. She didn’t have any more time. If there was something in that trunk…
Moving to it, she fished the key to the padlock back out of her pocket and bent down to insert it into the lock. It snapped open, feeling icy cold beneath her fin- gers. Removing the lock, she told herself it wasn’t too late. She could still burn the contents.
She thought of Rourke and felt a weight on her chest that made it hard to breathe.
With a curse, she reached down and grabbed the edge of the trunk lid and lifted it. The old metal creaked, re- minding her of her mother’s wheelchair. For just a mo- ment, she saw the pillow in her hand, the spot of blood on it, the blood on her mother’s lip… .
Laura threw off the disturbing image as she looked down into the trunk at the jumble of papers. Off to one side of the loose papers, she spotted what at first looked like a book.
With trembling fingers, she picked it up. A diary. Her mother had kept a diary? She opened it to the first page, her fingers trembling.
In her mother’s handwriting was Westfield 1987–88.

when rourke reached town after following Callie back, he parked on the main drag in front of the café. Originally he’d planned to just make sure she got in- side her apartment without any trouble.
But after parking, he decided to walk the perimeter to be certain Carson wasn’t hiding in the dark like he had been earlier lying in wait for her.
As Rourke made his loop around the café, he was surprised to find that Callie had gone up to her apart- ment, turned on the lights and then come back down.

She was waiting for him at the bottom of her outside stairs.
Moonlight played on her face, making her dark eyes bright. Her hair, which she’d had pulled back earlier, now framed her face, the raven locks against her pale skin. She couldn’t have looked more beautiful. Or more desirable. He felt a tremor inside him like nothing he’d ever felt before. Red f lag warnings were going off like fireworks in his head.
She smiled, and the moment he stepped to her, all he could think about was kissing her again. His mouth took hers hungrily, the kiss all passion and need as he pulled her into his arms. Lifting her off her feet, he pressed her against the side of the building. He could feel the soft curves of her body, the heat she radiated warming the October night.
Neither of them must have heard the vehicle approach- ing. Before they knew it, they were caught in blinding- bright headlights. Ducking back into the shadow of the building, they burst into nervous laughter, desire spark- ing like fireflies between them.
“Third date, huh?” Callie said, sounding as breath- less as he felt.
The light glowing in her apartment just yards away drew him like a moth to a f lame. He knew how dan- gerous this could be, and yet…
“I suppose we could consider this our second date,” he said, his voice husky with desire. “Maybe if I left and came back…”
She laughed and gave him a playful push. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, cowboy.”
“Go out with me tomorrow night. Dinner in Big
Timber. Say yes.”

Callie took only a moment to consider. “Yes,” she said, then raced up the stairs, stopping at the top to look back at him before disappearing inside.
He watched her go, asking himself if he hadn’t just made a date with a serial killer.

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About Just Reviews by:gabina49:

author educator book reviewer for authors reading and writing staff developer Book reviewer for manic readers, ijustfinished.com book pleasures and authors upon request blog tours on my blog and interviews with authors I am the author of five published books. I wrote three children's books in my Bertha Series and Two on Alzheimer's. Radio show talk host on Red River Radio/Blog Talk Radio Book Discussion with Fran Lewis the third Wed. of every month at one eastern. I interview 2 authors each month feature their latest releases. I review books for authors upon request and my latest book Sharp As A Tack or Scrambled Eggs Which Describes Your Brain? Is an E book, Kindle and on Xlibris.com Some of the proceeds from this last book will go to fund research in the area of Brain Traumatic Injury in memory of my sister Marcia who died in July.

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