Thanks for asking me to visit today, Alicia. I’m offering a $25.00 gift certificate to Kat’s Kustom Karry Alls and/or Aprons With Attitude to one person who leaves a comment AND an email address to contact them. 🙂
Thank you for being here, and for giving away such a fabulous prize!
Do you have another occupation, other than writer?
I am a retired nurse, currently a raging empty nester as a result of my youngest grandchild going off to all day kindergarten last month. It has not given me any more time to write but I now have a lot more time to sew and I like that a lot.
What do you love that most people don’t like and wouldn’t understand why you do?
I am also a retired victim advocate, a profession which causes many people to develop a wicked gleam in their eye [the tell me all the gory details sort of reaction] or turn away in horror. I loved that job; it made me a better person, a better woman.
What’s your favorite book of all time and why?
Too many to count but “Shanna” and “Ashes in the Wind” by Kathleen Woodiwiss, “Carolina Moon” and “Carnal Innocence” by Nora Roberts make me laugh out loud.
What’s your favorite childhood book?
Mila 18 by Leon Uris. I started reading things well beyond my grade level at a young age—something that caused great consternation among my parents and uncles after I started asking questions about anti-Semitism and genocide.
What is your favorite quote?
Any Ouiza Boudreau dialogue line in Steel Magnolias. Rather, any Ouiza Boudreau line out of the mouth of Shirley MacLaine. I loved that movie. Adored it.
Movies: Steel Magnolias and The Stoning of Soraya M.
Music: anything by the Bee Gees, George Gershwin and the Four Seasons.
Place you’ve visited: Saranac Lake in the Adirondack Mountains of northern New York State.
Place you’d like to visit: I’d love to take a Viking River Cruise through eastern Europe
TV show from childhood: 77 Sunset Strip
TV show from adulthood: Right now it’s Longmire and Justified
Food: anything except raw fish.
Sports team: Now that Moe Rivera and Derek Jeter have retired I have no favorite team.
This attraction: Complete madness or—sheer magic?
P.I. 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 by 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. There, in this quaint tourist town on the shores of Lake Ontario, she earned the love and respect of new 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, each discovering a new side to the other, sides that make them consider making drastic changes for the rest of their lives.
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.
Five years had evoked more than a few changes in Annunciata Doyle. Much thinner, he noted, but as far as he was concerned she’d always been a bit on the hippy side. Back then her weight was something she’d thrown around with ease—or when the mood suited. When it came to cops, it suited her often. The hair was another matter. Who knew when she freed the ruthlessly tight bun she’d always sported, her hair would fall past her waist in a curtain of black velvet curls?
In the costume of a Witchy Poo—and wasn’t that appropriate considering what she’d done to several of his fellow officers—her current manner of dress was looser, certainly more feminine than the severe straight-jacket type suits she wore back when reporters hung on her every word and judges clamored for her to speak as an expert during the sentencing portion of criminal trials. Counselors and advocates proclaimed her the patron saint of victims and survivors.
Which, in his opinion, was complete bullshit.
“You hear me, boy?”
“What? Sorry, Uncle Hank. I got—distracted.”
“Easy to do with that one. Be careful though.”
She took the first step leading into the gazebo. As she moved the thigh high split on the dress opened to expose a slender silk covered leg. “Why is that?”
“Folks around here call her the Black Mamba. Dangerous for any man who shows much of an interest.”
No big secret there, Nick mused sourly.
The Crone his brother officers had called the Director of Crime Victim Services back then. A woman who proved herself fully capable of destroying a man’s career with one carefully placed phone call to the police brass—or worse—the local media. Or, as she accomplished with one blow, dropping a name during during a notorious child sex abuse trial.
The ensuing scandal ended badly for all concerned, including the loss of several careers and, in the case of Nick’s best friend, suicide.
To purchase Caper Magic or any other book by Veronica Lynch or Kat Henry Doran, go to: www.thewildrosepress.com, click on author search
Writing under the names Kat Henry Doran and Veronica Lynch, author Kathy Cottrell uses her experience as a nurse, victim advocate and insurance investigator for background in her award winning novels and novellas. Her stories are set in her favorite places to visit: the Catskill and Adirondack Mountains as well as the Saint Lawrence River in the historic Thousand Islands region of Upstate and Northern New York State.
When not writing, or chasing grandchildren, Kathy spends her time designing and making tote bags and aprons to custom order.
To contact Veronica Lynch, go to: VlynchAuthor@Yahoo.com or WildWomenAuthors@Yahoo.com