EXCERPT: Meadows of Gold
A gentle breeze sighed,
undulating the meadow grass lazily and whispering past the forlorn figure
slumped on the tree trunk, hands clasped tightly in his lap. Thomas, a forest
leprechaun, released a long melancholy breath between his cracked, dry lips. A
single plump tear meandered down his stubbled cheek.
The sun sent bright
shafts of light through the pine boughs and around the wooden pedestal upon
which the morose figure resided. Ignoring the dancing beams, the leprechaun
pulled a shuddered breath into his lungs and stared at a spot in front of the
stump where a crumpled daisy chain necklace lay withering in the warmth of the
afternoon. Another plump tear snaked down his unshaven face.
In the distance, a lone
figure scuffed up the lane, which crossed in front of the tree stump. Thomas paid
no heed to the approaching form, pulling a thin silver flask from inside his
rumpled vest. He blindly opened the lid, placed the opened top to his lips and
pulled a deep draught from the container. Refitting the cap to the top, he
slipped the silver spirit holder back into his vest. His next shuddered breath
was interrupted with a hiccup.
The figure on the road
drew closer. Thomas raised his head and squinted his eyes. Was she coming back?
He hiccupped and straightened up. Maybe she had been teasing him when she ran
away and now she realized how much he cared for her. His eyes brightened and a
smile began to touch his lips.
The figure came around
the bend and toward him. The last he'd seen her, she was wearing a diaphanous,
thin dress. Had she changed? The form nearing him was clad in leather breeches,
a braided leather tunic, and knee-high, soft leather boots. A sword blade
strapped to the figure's back flashed in the sunlight. Was Cary so angry she
meant to cut him in little pieces? His heart began to pound in his chest and
inside his mouth his tongue stuck to the roof.
The figure stopped two
lengths from him and raised a hand to shade its eyes from the brightness of the
day.
Thomas realized he was
shaking. This was it…his life was over. He hung his head.
"Thomas?"
The voice was familiar
but it didn't sound like Cary. If it wasn't her…
BLURB
Detective Corey Williams is
content with his small town Virginia home. Normally, his busiest night is Saturday, but when his best
friend’s ex-wife attempts to have him killed, Corey gives his promise to ensure
justice is served. Meeting a red-haired, Harley riding goddess has thrown a
wrench in his quiet staid life. Only one hiccup in this situation; the goddess
is a reporter. When the ex-wife of his friend flees the country, the reporter
makes sure she is right behind Detective Williams. He is oath bound to bring
the fugitive ex-wife back for trial. What he hadn’t counted on was falling for
the Harley riding reporter.
REVIEW:
Moon in Mazatlan
C. L. Kraemer
978-1-62420-223-0
By Jeffrey Ross
4.5 Stars out of 5
This fast-paced detective story has something for everyone! Moon in Mazatlán
contains international intrigue, mile-high romance, Russians fighting the
Mujahedeen in the 1980’s, and a hard-working detective who learns to love
again.
Narcissistic murderess Ashlee makes a bold hospital escape after
inflicting an injury upon herself while in custody. Ashlee, a bad girl to the
nth degree, and her too-wiling accomplice (and cop-gone-bad) Kurt, flee to
Mazatlán using a carefully crafted plan to escape justice. They are pursued relentlessly by Detective
Corey Williams and his new “partner”—a beautiful, curvy, read-headed
Harley-riding newspaper reporter named Riona.
Author CL Kraemer does an excellent job of moving the story along. The ambient temperature in this romantic
drama fluctuates between steaming hot and chilling—while the main characters’
passions rise and fall like waves on a Mexican beach. Kraemer does a superb job
of showing the dualities of human nature—and illuminates the treacherous gaming
which so often occurs between lovers.
(I gave this 4.5 out of 5 stars only because I didn’t want the adventure
to stop! Moon in Mazatlán is a classic—a great read!)
No comments:
Post a Comment