VISION AND VERSE DISCLAIMER
Note:
Vision and Verse does not store any personal information like email addresses, home addresses, etc. We do not give any information to third parties. And cookies? We eat cookies.
VISION AND VERSE DISCLAIMER
Note:
Vision and Verse does not store any personal information like email addresses, home addresses, etc. We do not give any information to third parties. And cookies? We eat cookies.
VISION AND VERSE DISCLAIMER
Note:
Vision and Verse does not store any personal information like email addresses, home addresses, etc. We do not give any information to third parties. And cookies? We eat cookies.
Just when she feels she is destined to find lost pets and missing luggage for the rest of her life in her beautiful new office, complete with business cards, magazines in the waiting room, and her Red Cat logo painted on the frosted glass door, a lovely, mysterious woman named Ms. White hires her to find out who is stalking her. A dead rat on her car. Being run off the road. A car bombing. Someone wants her frightened or maybe…dead.
The trail of graft and corruption leads Cat into danger as she hides the mystery woman with the old, reclusive lawyer Detrick Bittmor for safe keeping.https://www.amazon.com/February-White-Lies-Collier-Mystery-ebook/dp/B01BJYOTQG
Excerpt:
Chapter One
DNA Proof
“T |
he roads are horrendous! It’s freezing out there. I don’t think you should go. His flight arrives in the middle of the night. He told you not to go get him. It’s extremely dangerous and inconvenient. He’ll find a way home,” my mother snipped.
“I’m sure he could find a way home, but I want to go get him. I’ve missed him.” I spoke calmly but glared at the phone, wondering if my mother called me just to make me crazy.
“That’s not a smart decision,” she said. I could hear her wrinkling up her nose.
“Well, I’m going anyway, Mother.”
“If you’re not concerned with your own safety, then what about all the poor, hapless people who happen to be on the road at the same time as the daredevil Cat Collier?”
“I’ll steer clear of all other vehicles. Don’t worry about me, or any unfortunate soul on the highway with me. We’ll all be fine. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Good night, Mom.”
“Good night, wild child. Be careful.”
After the conversation with my mother, I needed aspirin and a nap before heading to the airport to pick up my boyfriend because alcohol, my first choice, would have seriously impaired my driving ability.
Hours later, I pulled out of the parking lot of my apartment building, refreshed, excited, and in happy anticipation as I slowly crawled through the icy, snow-covered, country roads to the Youngstown-Warren Regional Airport.
“Flight 211 from New York has landed. Passengers will be arriving at Gate Three,” the United Airlines flight representative announced. I scrambled to the gate and waited as the weary, red-eye travelers quietly trickled passed me from the gate. The sleep-deprived commuters shuffled to baggage pick-up in a zombie-like state.
But my eyes were glued on the doorway. Finally, I saw his gorgeous head of dark, wavy hair towering above the others.
Now, you need to know something about me. I never get the handsome guy. I’m never even in the running. I’m short, more round than the publicly sought after elongated image of beauty, and I have this wild mop of uncontrollable red curly hair. I have freckles. I’m stubborn. I have an odd sense of humor. I don’t like to be told what to do.
My mother says I lack social refinement. I don’t care. She also says I have bad taste in men and has never liked one of my boyfriends…until Carter, that is. Why this sweet, kind, smart, handsome creature left his underwear model girlfriend for me, I don’t know. But I’m deliriously happy.
“Carter!” I shouted and waved. I startled some of the near-by sleepwalkers. “Sorry,” I whispered.
He searched the waiting crowd, broke into a giant grin when he spotted me, and rushed towards me as fast as he could without knocking over the stragglers.
“You’re here!” he picked me up, hugged me, and kissed me. “I told you that you didn’t need to come and get me. I would’ve rented a car. It’s the middle of the night. And it’s freezing.” His smile lit up the airport terminal. His hug was warm and strong. Everyone else was dragging, but the tall, dark, and handsome Erick Carter Larsen was full of energy. “Thank you for coming, sweetie.”
“Oh, my pleasure,” I said. I saw he had his carry-on bag. “Do we need to go to baggage pick-up?”
“No, I had the rest of my stuff shipped. It’ll all be here Wednesday.”
“Then let’s go home,” I said. I reached for his hand.
“Home. Sounds wonderful,” he said, clasping my hand as we walked out the door.
We slipped and slid our way to my old, red Chevy Cruze, clutching onto each other for support.
“Oh, safe!” he said as he closed the car door. “The sidewalks and parking lot are treacherous. Have these people never heard of rock salt?”
“It’s too cold for rock salt to work right now and… we’re not safe yet. The roads are slick. Luckily, everybody else is home asleep, so we’ll have the road back to Heaton Valley all to ourselves. Buckle up, honey, and hold on tight.”
I pulled out of the parking lot and slid sideways, just missing the unmanned ticket booth.
Carter shrieked and covered his face while I howled with laughter. I’m used to driving in this kind of weather.
“You almost took out that ticket booth,” he panted.
“The operative word being ‘almost.’ Quit fussing,” I laughed. “I had a good four-inch clearance.”
Carter groaned. “I think there are more dents on your car since I left you last week.”
“No. Some cowardly paint may have run off in fear, but no new dents.”
Carter raised an eyebrow at me.
“Excuse me, Mr. Larsen, would you prefer to drive?”
“No, absolutely not, Miss Collier. You’re doing a great job. Fantastic. No complaints.” He searched the floor and in the back seat.
“What are you looking for?”
“Helmet. Mouth guard. Knee pads. Shin guards. Rosary beads to wear around my neck. Holy water. Race car shoulder harness. Tibetan prayer shawl.”
“Rough flight, honey?” I laughed.
“Not until now,” he teased with a wink and a smile.
I took the center of the snow-covered, deserted road.
“Don’t you have to pick a lane here in Ohio?”
“Not until we see something coming at us. The center’s not as icy as the traffic lanes.”
The night was pitch black against the iridescent white snow. I followed the broken white line down the center of the road.
“You’re unusually quiet,” I said. “Are you sleepy?”
“No. Scared. I don’t want to take your mind of the road. We’ll talk later.”
We arrived at my apartment unscathed.
“Want some coffee?” I asked.
“I’ll make myself a cup. I think you ought to get some sleep. I’ll be fine out here on the couch.”
“Nonsense, it’ll only take a minute.” In a few minutes, I carried in a hot, steamy cup of coffee and put it on the coffee table in front of him. I sat down and curled up next to him.
“Ah, thank you. Mmm, good,” he sipped. “I brought a book and my iPad. I can entertain myself until I get sleepy. You need to go to get some rest.”
“I do have to be at work by nine. But I can work from home in the afternoon, so I’ll be home at noon. Things are bad at work. I may soon be out of a job.”
“Don’t worry about it. Writing obituaries for a small town newspaper doesn’t really suit you anyway. Something will come along that’s perfect for you.”
“I think something already did,” I giggled and snuggled up against him. He pulled me closer and enveloped me in a warm and tender kiss.
“Do you plan on going to see Bittmor today?” I asked.
“I don’t want to, but I have to,” he groaned. “I can’t put it off any longer.” He rubbed his forehead.
“I’ll come with you if you want.”
“I do. Is he doing any better since being released from the hospital?”
“He seemed depressed when I saw him in the hospital, but Dr. Butler said he should make a full recovery from the stroke. I haven’t seen him this week. I told him to call if he needed something. Okay, I’m off to bed. I’ll get you a pillow and some blankets. Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
“Yes. I appreciate you coming to get me at the airport. Now go get some rest. I’ll be fine.”
I brought out a pillow and some blankets.
“Good night, Cat,” he kissed me and ruffled my hair. “I’ll be right here on the couch if you need me.”
“Good night, Carter. I’ll be right in there,” I pointed to my bedroom, “if you…”
“No, don’t say it. I’m staying put right here on this couch until seven thirty in the morning. Now, go.”
“Love you,” I whispered.
“Love you more,” he answered.
One more goodnight kiss and I crawled off to bed, warm in the fact that Carter was back in Ohio, in my apartment, and on my couch.
Around seven forty-five, I awoke to the aroma of toast, coffee, and the crackling sound of something cooking in the kitchen.
Now, I am not a morning person, but the sight of Carter in the kitchen with plates of toast and cheese omelets and a full pot of coffee made me smile.
“Good morning, sweetie. Ready for coffee?” he beamed.
I nodded, not big on words too early in the morning. It seemed the last part of me to become fully awake was my ability to force coherent words out of my mouth.
He poured coffee in my favorite mug and sat it down on the counter in front of me.
“Come here,” he beckoned, arms open.
I edged my way into strong, warm arms and kisses that enveloped me with a sense that all was right in my world, for now anyway.
I knew he had to face Detrick Bittmor, just a week after having a stroke, with the news that the DNA sample proved they were indeed father and son. That news would make Bittmor a very happy old man, but it made Carter miserable.
But for now, I had to get ready for work.
VISION AND VERSE DISCLAIMER
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So when she gets out of prison, she sets out to kill those responsible for her incarceration and brutal treatment on the inside.
VISION AND VERSE DISCLAIMER
Note:
Vision and Verse does not store any personal information like email addresses, home addresses, etc. We do not give any information to third parties. And cookies? We eat cookies.
The published novels are all from the ‘Empire’ series.
Empire: Country
Empire: Capital
Empire: Estate
Empire: Metropolis
The next ‘Empire’ novel, ‘Empire: Spiral’ is slated for release in February, followed by book six, ‘Empire: Judgment’ in April.
What is your favorite genre to write?
Mostly I write Dark Fantasy.
Favorite food.
Steak. Medium rare.
Tea or coffee?
Never really got into the whole coffee thing. Same with tea.
Pizza or ice cream?
I basically lived off pizza for a couple years in my younger days (worked at a pizza joint.) And I’ve always liked ice cream. Anymore, not so much of either. Gotta watch the waistline.
Wine or beer or soda or what?
Never was much into wine or beer. Drank way too much soda as a kid. These days…fruit juice.
Favorite musical artist.
So many. Does ‘big hair bands from the 80’s’ count?
Do you listen to music when you write? What?
I prefer silence when writing. Helps me focus.
What makes you laugh?
Cat videos.
Favorite work of art or sculpture.
Tough one.
Do pulp covers from the 70’s and 80’s count as ‘art?’
Yes. How old were you when you started writing?
Think I was like ten when I made my first effort.
Do you plan out your book with outlines and notecards? Or just write?
Anymore, the idea itself isn’t enough. Barring the odd experimental piece, I don’t start a tale without solid ideas of the beginning, middle and end. For longer works – over say, 15,000 words – I’ll put together a 3-4 page outline, with each chapter getting a few short phrases. That gets combined with a character list, with each character getting a few words describing their position.
Describe your perfect evening.
Participating in something that would make me laugh.
Where do you get your inspiration?
Anywhere and everywhere – books I’ve read (take an idea and twist it around) pictures, movies, news stories, walks in the woods, memories of time past, and attempts to extrapolate the future. Sometimes I’ll ask myself ‘suppose ‘X’ was actually possible’ and go from there.
What do you do when you get a writer's block?
In my experience, when the writing mojo up and leaves, it means the tale has taken a turn for the boring. Sometimes slow sections are needed to set up the next part of the story, likewise, sometimes you need to explain what is going on.
What I have done in the past is to look for ways to jazz up the slow patches. At times, I took an old cooking timer, set it for an hour, and forced myself to do nothing but write until the bell rang.
Who is your favorite author?
I read Tolkien’s ‘Lord of the Rings’ over and over again in my younger days.
Best book you ever read.
Again, that would be ‘Lord of the Rings.’
Last book you read.
I am currently reading ‘The Thirteenth Hour.’ I find the premise intriguing.
What would you do for a living if you weren’t a writer?
Not really making a living as a writer (I am ‘semi-retired.’) In the past I have done everything from carpentry to driving a passenger van. Most recently, I was USPS contractor.
Who is the one person who has influenced your personal life the most and why?
That would be my Dad. We did not see eye to eye (he was never into reading) but he did teach me about everything from automotive mechanics to building a house (yes, I’ve done that a couple times).
Don’t expect to get rich. Don’t give up on the first draft, even it is horrible. You can fix that later. Write a little every day.
Do you have some links for us to follow you?
Amazon links to the books -
Empire: Country - Empire: Country - Kindle edition by Goff, Tim. Literature & Fiction Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.
Empire: Capital - Amazon.com: Empire: Capital eBook : Goff, Tim: Books
Empire: Estate - Amazon.com: Empire: Estate eBook : Goff, Tim: Books
Empire: Metropolis - Amazon.com: Empire: Metropolis eBook : Goff, Tim: Books
Not that big on social media, but…
Facebook - (3) Eldritch Spheres | Facebook
Amazon Author Page - Amazon Author
VISION AND VERSE DISCLAIMER
Note:
Vision and Verse does not store any personal information like email addresses, home addresses, etc. We do not give any information to third parties. And cookies? We eat cookies.
