Counting Down to Nowhere to Hide - 2

What I'm reading: One Wrong Step, by Laura Griffin.


With just under 3 weeks until the release of NOWHERE TO HIDE, I thought it was time you met the hero, Graham Harrigan. I set him up with a reporter. Let's see how he fares.

**********

Meet Graham Harrigan

I tap on the door.

"Come in," says a female voice.

I enter and see a cluttered desk in an equally cluttered office. The woman seated behind the clutter looks up. Her eyes roam up and down my body, and she gestures to a chair with a well-manicured hand. "Sit. Relax. It's not painful, I promise."

I guess it's obvious I'm not sure what I'm doing here. I sit in the chair she indicated. "Terry Odell said you're expecting me?"

"That's right." She clears a spot on her paper-covered desk and sets a tape-recorder in the middle. "All right if I record the interview? Less chance of me getting something wrong."

Now I know why I feel so strange. I'm the cop. I usually conduct the interviews. Being on the other side is awkward. "No problem, as long as I get a copy."

She nods, her mouth curving upward. "I can do that. Or would you like to use your own machine?"

I don't tell her my recorder's been running since I hit her receptionist's office. Old habits die hard. Instead, I pull it out of my sport coat's pocket and make a show about fiddling with the buttons. "Might save time."

Mystery, Suspense and POV

What I'm reading: Almost Like Being in Love, by Christina Dodd
Thanks to Rosemary Harris for being my guest yesterday. My editor received my revised manuscript and is working on it. With that off my plate, I'd planned on jumping back into my new WIP, but the hubster and I went all the way down the mountain and spent copious amounts of money on new everythings for the house.

Eventually, they assure us, they'll actually be delivered and then our contractor will start installing stuff. Today it's supposed to be a water softening system, so that our new appliances won't get all gunked up with mineral deposits. And, living up here, one learns to consolidate trips, so we made at least half a dozen stops (ok, one was lunch) trying to take care of everything in one day. We did, but it was a LONG day.

On another front: I've just hooked up with a group of other Five Star Expressions authors in a new blogging venture. It's still very loosely organized, but today's my day to post there. Some of you might be aware that I hold job interviews for my characters, but if you haven't read what transpired when Frankie Castor auditioned for the female lead in WHEN DANGER CALLS, why don't you pop over to Author Expressions. You know the drill. I'll be waiting.

Right now, we blog on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. I'd love to see some of you there.

Meet Frankie Castor ... And Molly, from When Danger Calls

What I'm reading: Echo Burning, by Lee Child

Yesterday, I introduced Ryan Harper, the hero of When Danger Calls. The nature of a romance novel, regardless of sub-genre, is that the hero and hero share the page. Today, I'd like to share Frankie Castor's job interview. In addition, you'll see how, through sheer luck, I cast Molly in her supporting role.

Meet Frankie Castor ... And Molly.

"Yes?" I say when my secretary calls. I have a break between appointments, and I'm trying to refine some of my yet-to-be-discovered heroine's goals, motivations and conflicts.

"We might have a problem with the next applicant," she says.

I consult my list. Frances Marie Castor. Four o'clock. So far, all I've seen are women who look like they're applying for a job at a strip club, not an action-adventure romance heroine. True, there are a few scenes where the heroine will have to play a cocktail waitress, but that's not what I'm looking for. "What kind of problem?"

"Her sitter can't make it, and she can't find anyone to take care of her daughter."

"How old is the daughter?" I ask.

After a moment, my secretary returns to the line. "She's almost five."

I wonder. Would it asking too much that I might be able to cast both roles at once? "Tell her to bring her daughter along."

Promptly at four, my secretary informs me Ms. Castor and her daughter have arrived. "Show them in," I say. Giving a silent prayer that this will be my final interview, I flip to a clean sheet of my notepad and turn my attention to the door.

When it opens, my secretary leads the candidate in. She gives me a look that says, "Am I supposed to entertain the kid?"

More...

I give her a quick headshake. "Please come in, Ms. Castor." Outwardly, she's got promise. Honey-blonde, with clear, blue eyes. Minimal makeup, and a few strands of hair escape her ponytail. She's wearing khakis and a beige-and blue striped polo. Definitely not the stripper type. Girl next door all the way. My hopes lift a little higher. My gaze lowers to the child who's hanging back, clutching a backpack to her chest like a shield. Strawberry blonde, slight. Not exactly the image I had. For tension and conflict, I was looking for someone who resembled the Hispanic youngster Ryan Harper had failed to rescue before the book started.

Frances hesitates. "I'm sorry for the … inconvenience, and I really appreciate you seeing me today. This is Molly." I detect a quick nudge to the child, who lifts her head and gives me a polite smile, still keeping her eyes downcast. "Hello."

"Molly knows this is grownup time. She'll sit and read, or color. And will be very quiet." Another nudge.

I get up, circle my desk, and crouch to Molly's level. "Hi, Molly. Do you like to read?"

She nods.

"Well, I love to read, and I love to write stories, too. What's your favorite book?"

She meets my gaze with a smile, and her cobalt-blue eyes are irresistible. I'm already revising Molly's character description from a brown-eyed, dark-haired child to a blue-eyed strawberry blonde. Writing is all about the rewrites, after all.

"Green Eggs and Ham," she says. "I have it in my pack. I can read it to Mr. Snuggles all by myself."

"Very good," I say. I settle her on the loveseat against the wall. "You can read here while I talk to your mommy."

Molly unzips her pack and takes out a well-worn copy of the Seuss. Next comes a well-worn, once-white stuffed dog, which she places on her lap. Mr. Snuggles, I presume. I make another mental note. As soon as she opens the book, she's reciting the familiar rhymes in soft tones.

I haven't mentioned the role of a child, and I don't say anything yet. Casting children is a headache. I prefer to see them in their natural state, not performing, but it's almost impossible. Today is a rare exception.

"Please sit down, Ms. Castor." I direct her to one of my client chairs. "Or should I call you Frances."

"Call me Frankie," she says. "Only my mom calls me Frances, and then it's usually Frances Marie Castor, which means I'm in trouble." She sits. "Excuse my appearance. I had to come straight from work—I teach elementary school art—and I didn't have time to change. We've been working on collages."

As she sits, I get a brief whiff of Elmer's glue. Much nicer than the cloying scents I've been exposed to all day. "Tell me why you applied for this job."

She takes a breath. "Bottom line? The money."

Honest, straightforward. I jot a note. "You mentioned you have a job. Teaching."

"I'm only a sub while the regular teacher's on maternity leave. I had to move from Boston because my mother fell and broke her wrist, and my sister's husband got a great job, but it was in London, and they moved, and there was nobody to stay with Mom, so Molly and I moved out here and things are tight." She glanced at Molly, then gave me a quick grin. "Sorry. I … um … tend to babble when I'm nervous."

"There's no need to be nervous. Tell me about yourself. Your backstory, as we say in the business."

She jumps right in. "I was born in Broken Bow, Montana. I wanted to experience the city life, couldn't wait to get out. I wanted to be a photojournalist. Went to school in New York. Things got … complicated." She looked at Molly again, her gaze lingering this time. She turned back to me. "I ended up working for an interior design firm in Boston, until I got the call about Mom. And I'm worried about her. She forgets things, and the budget—well, it's in trouble, and the furnace needs to be fixed—replaced would be better—and there's Bob, her new boyfriend, and—" She gives me another wide grin. "I'm babbling again, aren't I?"

I smile and add some notes to my page. "Not a problem." After making sure Molly is still engrossed in her book, I lean across my desk and lower my voice. "You do know that you'll have to have a consummated relationship for the job. Will that be a problem?"

She, too, checks on Molly. "Do I have to be … you know … real experienced? Because I'm not looking for a man now. Not unless he's going to put Molly first, and I've pretty much given up on those. I haven't … you know … done it. Not since—" Another glance at Molly.

"I've found that one experienced partner is usually enough," I say. "But it does happen on the page."

She blushes a delightful shade of pink. "The guy isn't going to be a brute or anything, is he? Or too ... kinky?"

"No, definitely not a brute. And I don't write erotica, so there's a very low kink quotient."

After a brief moment of lip-chewing thought, she says, "I think I'll be fine with it. No, I know I'll be fine with it. There's always a bright side to anything, and a little romance, even pretend, seems like a definite bright side to me right about now."

I run through the last few questions quickly, making sure she's willing to deal with a German Shepherd, and isn't afraid of horses or heights, before I drop the final question. "How would you feel about Molly being in the book with you?"

Her eyes pop open. "I don't know. She's so young. It's an adult book, after all."

"If she can differentiate between real and pretend, she can probably handle the job. And I'll run any of her scenes by you first, for approval."

"That sounds fair. But those … romance scenes?"

"Trust me, she won't be on the page during any … romance." With a smile, I add, "And she'll get paid for her time. Same rate as you."

Frankie chews her lip again. She gets up and sits beside Molly. She whispers in her ear. Molly's eyes widen. She looks at me. "Can Mr. Snuggles be in the story too?"

"Of course," I say. He'll be very important."

Molly grins. She stuffs her book in her pack and dangles Mr. Snuggles in front of her face. "We can be in a storybook. Just like Sam I Am."

Frankie crosses back to my desk, her hand outstretched. "We'll do it."

I shake her hand and escort the pair to the door. "My secretary has the paperwork. We'll start Monday, if that's all right."

"It'll be fine," Frankie says. They leave, and I tell my secretary to cancel tomorrow's appointments and to hold all my calls. I have some writing to do.

Meet Ryan Harper from When Danger Calls

Today marks the one-week countdown to the release of my new Five Star Expressions Action-Adventure Romance, WHEN DANGER CALLS. I've found that in order to ensure I have the perfect characters, I have to interview them before they get the job. I'd like to share Ryan's interview with you today.

Meet Ryan Harper

As soon as he opens the door to my office, I'm sure there's been a mistake.

"I'm Ryan Harper, ma'am," he says.

I check the list my secretary gave me first thing this morning. No mistake. Number five just left, and number six is definitely Ryan Harper. I give him my, Thanks for coming smile. The one that I normally flash as they leave, not when they enter. But to be fair, I should hear him out.

I motion him inside. "Come in. Have a seat."

He's certainly tall enough, over six feet, but as he crosses to the visitor chair at my desk, he's favoring one leg. Still, there's nothing hesitant about the way he walks. Strides, actually, limp and all. Interesting. He's got a scruffy full beard, and his hair hangs in unruly brown tendrils over the collar of a neatly-pressed blue oxford cloth shirt. His jeans, also neatly-pressed, bunch at the waist under his belt, which clearly has been tightened a notch. He grasps the arms of the chair and eases himself into it. I see his jaw clench.

More...

I try to keep my expression neutral, my voice pleasant, but I know he's aware I've noticed the pain he's tried to hide. "Mr. Harper, you're aware this position is for an action-adventure romance hero, right?"

"Yes, ma'am." He stretches his legs in front of him. There's a faint pallor under his tan. His gaze meets mine, and my heart does a quick flip. The weight of the world sits behind those whiskey-colored eyes. Thoughts of finishing ahead of schedule and an early lunch vanish. I fumble for a pen.

"What made you apply for the job, Mr. Harper?"

"Please, call me Ryan."

"Ryan." I'm tempted to return the first-name invitation, but I normally reserve that for my characters after I hire them. "I have to be honest. You're not exactly what readers expect when they meet the hero in one of my books."

His eyes never leave mine. He runs his hand across his beard. "I'm just back from an assignment. Things didn't go so well, and frankly, my boss insisted I take time off. Lying around the beach didn't appeal, and there were some … issues. I resigned. I saw your ad. I've had a lot of experience in the action-adventure realm." He rubbed his knee. "That's how I got injured."

"What kind of an injury?"

"Nothing permanent. Just my knee. It's healing fine. I guarantee it won't interfere with the job."

I'll be the judge of that. But his erect posture, the set of his jaw say he's right.

"All right, we'll assume the knee is a minor inconvenience. Tell me about yourself. Where you grew up, education, work history, your whole backstory."

The first glimmer of a smile appears at the corners of his mouth. "I grew up on a ranch in Montana. Horse ranch. Older brother, younger sister. I started college, dropped out to join the Navy. Did a couple of years as a SEAL, then went to work for … for a high-end San Francisco security company."

Quite a bit of hopping around. I don't need quitters in my books. "What made you drop out of school?"

Sadness flashes across his face, quickly controlled. "My mother died. I needed to get away for a while."

"And this company?" I ask. "What were your duties?"

"Just about anything." He lifts his gaze to the ceiling as if searching for the right response. Shrugs. Leans forward. Lowers his voice. "But, you see, there's a covert side. I can't talk about it much, but we do a lot of hostage rescue, go places where our government doesn't want to get involved, either for political reasons, or because to them, what the client wants is just small potatoes."

My pen seems to be writing notes of its own accord. Plot points appear on my pad. He waits. I go down my checklist. "Married?"

"No."

"Ever?"

"No, ma'am. My job takes me away at a moment's notice." He sucks in a breath. "Took me away, I guess, since I'm not working there anymore. But it never seemed fair to ask someone to accept that kind of a life."

"I'm assuming your job entailed dangerous assignments."

He nods.

"I'm also assuming you're well-versed in firearms, combat techniques, survival."

"Yes, ma'am. Our teams are the best."

"Teams?"

"That's right. We're all trained across the board, but we each have specialties."

"And yours was…?"

A pause. "Sharpshooter. Sniper."

"You've killed?"

A longer pause. He swallows. "Yes, I have."

"I take it you don't enjoy it."

"No, ma'am I don't. Frankly, it sickens me, but there are times when it's the only way. The world has an ugly side."

"Can you work alone? Without a … team … backing you up?"

"Definitely."

"All right, then let's get to the other side. This is an action-adventure romance novel, and everything happens on the page. Everything. Do you have any problems with that?"

He gives me a sheepish grin. Suddenly, I wonder what he'll look like when he shaves. "None at all."

I scribble another note. "Dogs?"

"We had an Irish setter when I was a kid. Rusty. I'm fine with dogs."

"I was thinking German Shepherd."

"Fine breed."

"Children?"

He looks at me, a puzzled expression on his face. "Children?"

"You'd be working with a single mother. She has a five-year-old daughter. Can you handle it."

For the first time, I see something akin to fear cross his face. He closes his eyes for a moment, then gives me an even stare. "Not a problem."

Definitely a problem. But that's going to be his problem, not mine. I glance at my list of potential conflicts for his character and put two asterisks by that one.

I stand and offer my hand. "Thank you, Ryan. When can you start?"

He gets to his feet. Slowly. Smiles and shakes my hand. A warm, firm grip. A working man's hand. "Any time, ma'am."

"Call me Terry."

His smile is a genuine grin now. "Terry. Thank you."

"If you'll stop by my secretary's desk, she'll have the necessary paperwork."

He heads for the door. I watch him leave. The limp is barely visible. Or am I distracted by the view? I wonder if Frankie Castor will enjoy it as much as I do.

Counting Down to Hidden Fire

What I've been reading: Over Hexed by Vicki Lewis Thompson, Without Due Process by J.A. Jance, Animal Magnetism by Maggie Shayne, Paradise by Meljean Brook, Snowfall at Willow Lake by Susan Wiggs

Back from Colorado after a wonderful visit with family and a fantastic mingling with writers, agents, editors, experts. So nice not to feel crazy!

Hidden Fire is only a week away. I'm counting down. Check here and at my website for excerpts, character interviews and behind the scenes fun.

I've posted before about sequels and spinoffs. Hidden Fire is a true sequel to Finding Sarah. How did Randy and Sarah feel about coming back to center stage? I asked them, and here's what they said. What do you think? One lucky commenter to any countdown post will win a download.

When Randy and Sarah Return.

"Come in, Sarah," I say, covering the mouthpiece of the phone with my hand. I motion her to the chairs opposite my desk. "I'll be with you in a jiffy."

She smiles, and I detect a hint of nervousness. She takes a seat in the chair closer to the wall, adjusts the collar of her pale blue blouse, then twists the strap of her shoulder bag.

I cut my call short, hang up and stack the array of papers on my desk into a semblance of order, finding a fresh notepad and pen. "Sorry about that. Can I get you something while we wait for Randy? Coffee? Chamomile tea?"

She shakes her head and does some more strap-twisting. "I'm fine. I hope this won't take too long, though. Jennifer has to leave the shop by four today." She checks her watch.

"Randy should be here soon. He's on duty today, right? I'm sure it's hard for him to get away sometimes."

Sarah lowers her gaze. "Yes." Her voice is barely a whisper, but I hear a touch of resentment. Maybe more than a touch. I jot "Conflict" on my notepad, and underneath I write, "Job issues."

Moments later, Sarah checks her watch again. She frowns. Before the silence becomes uncomfortable, there's a knock on the door, which opens immediately. Randy Detweiler ambles in, all six-feet-six of him. Unlike Sarah, there's nothing hesitant about the way he extends his hand, first to me, then to Sarah. He lowers himself into the empty chair. I take him in, once again glad I didn't go with the stereotype 'drop dead gorgeous' hero. Tall, lanky, with his hawk-beak nose and the scar through his eyebrow, he's comfortable with himself as a man, not as a sex object. All cop, all business.

Sarah's nervousness hasn't abated. She's on the pale side, her freckles standing out across her nose and cheeks. I wonder if it's too soon after the ordeal I put her through to hit her with my new proposal. Too late for that, and she did agree to the meeting, so there's still hope. However, she's leaning back in her chair, away from both me and Randy. This might be a harder sell than I thought.

The initial pleasantries dispensed with, I bend forward, resting my hands on my desk. "No point in beating around the bush," I say. "How do you two feel about a sequel to Finding Sarah?"

"Sounds good to me," Randy says. He glances in Sarah's direction. She avoids his eyes. He shoves a lock of hair away from his face. "She won't be kidnapped in this book, will she? I can understand her reluctance to participate if she's going to have to go through so much trauma again."

It's a book. Only trouble is interesting. I don't voice my thoughts, however. "Of course not. Besides, readers wouldn't tolerate using the same device in two books."

"It's not that." Sarah twists her purse strap some more. I wonder if I noticed the habit in her earlier interviews or if it's something she's picked up from me. "I mean, the first book was a romance, so we've already covered the basics. First meet, first kiss, the sex, that awful black moment and we get together at the end. I thought romance sequels were more like spinoffs, like the way Starting Over is Colleen McDonald's story. Wouldn't another book featuring me and Randy break the rules?"

I try not to grimace. "First of all, they're not rules. Think of it as reader expectation. And I've figured a way around it. That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"You're not going to give me amnesia or anything, are you?" Sarah asks. "Too cliché, I think."

I chuckle. "No, nothing like that. But what do you think about a little separation?"

"How long?" Randy says immediately. His brown eyes with those enticing hazel flecks narrow.

"Not long," I reply. "Six weeks. I thought you might like some Violent Crimes Task Force training. But it means you'll have to go to San Francisco."

Sarah chews her lip and twirls a strand of her hair. She's let it grow out some. It seems brighter, more chestnut. Business must be picking up for her boutique. After a moment, she says, "That's a distinct possibility."

Randy doesn't look as positive. "Six weeks. All in San Francisco?"

"Afraid so," I say. "But think of the reunion scene. Could be intense. I thought we'd open the book with it."

He nods, obviously suppressing a smile. "I could deal with that." His cell rings, and he gives me an apologetic glance before he checks the display. "Sorry, I'll have to take this call. It's my chief."

"Not a problem," I say. "I think we've covered the important points. I'll be in touch when it's time for our next interview."

"It's a plan." He lifts the phone to his ear. "Detweiler." He exits, still talking on the phone, every inch the cop.

Sarah's lips compress to a thin line.

This could be perfect.

Sarah doesn't get up. "This might be a bad idea," she says. "Did you see what just happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"He's in the middle of a meeting. He gets a call and disappears. It's like I'm not even in the room. Not like we might have dinner plans. Not like I'm taking off from my job, too. And I can guarantee that when we see each other again, he won't mention the call. If I ask, he'll say it was nothing.

"Maybe I can fix that," I say.

Her eyes light up, glistening their stone-blue color, the color that Randy found so compelling when he met her. "You can?" She sits up straighter, her hands free of the purse strap at last. "But nothing obvious, right? He'd know if he's being manipulated."

"Don't worry about a thing. Of course, because your relationship was established in the previous book, there will be more emphasis on the mystery this time."

"That would be great. I've always thought that I could be helpful, if only Randy would see me as a partner. Not a cop, but an equal. He still has that white knight thing you gave him in Finding Sarah."

I jot more notes. "Point taken. But you have to agree that your character has to develop slowly. It's commercial fiction. I'm going to have to throw stuff at the two of you." Little does she know what.

"Can I take care of myself? Not get stuck somewhere waiting for Randy to come to the rescue?"

"No trouble at all, but I can't make you a kick-ass heroine right off the bat. Readers won't buy it."

"I have no desire to be kick-ass. I'm no wimp, but I'm happy being Sarah, boutique owner."

"You proved that before. You know my style. Things start out with seemingly solvable situations, but they keep escalating. And since it's categorized as a romance, you know you'll both be alive and together at the end." I wink. "But I have a few surprises for Randy."

We exchange conspiratorial smiles. Sarah rises. "Thanks, Terry. I'll look forward to the first draft."

I don't tell her Hidden Fire is already written.

Listening - to readers and characters

I had some kind words about What's in a Name? from a reader. She said, "You didn't miss a beat and you kept the tension high right to the end."

She also requested the chicken recipe Kelli cooked for Blake in the book. I'd wanted to add it to the manuscript, but things were too far along in the publishing process to go back and do it. However, the request reminded me about it, and I've posted the recipe in the Free Reads section of my website.

I also added what happened when Randy Detweiler came to me with a request while I was writing Finding Sarah.

Here's a snip -- the rest is on my site.

"Come in, Randy," I say. We've been working together for a couple of months now, but I still can't get used to how tall he is. I've written him as six-six, but I have a hunch he's even taller. But he's comfortable with his height, walks with an easy grace across my office and settles himself on the couch.

I remember his awkwardness at our initial interview. Like he was afraid it was a stereotypical casting couch and he might have to 'buy' his way into the job, or I was going to make sure he could handle the sex scenes.

"What can I do for you?" I ask.

His lips curve up in a shy smile and he shoves a lock of hair off his forehead. "I…um…I had a suggestion. For my character."

I give him my full attention now. He's never demanded—heck, he's never even suggested anything. Maybe he's nervous. We're about to get into his first real sex scene with Sarah. It's not like he's naïve or anything, but I know how characters can get self-conscious when they're actually asked to perform on cue. At least he's not one of the cocky ones, no pun intended, who thinks he can take over the scene.

Unexpected Surprises

What I'm reading: Traceless, by Debra Webb

What I'm writing: Chapter 17

Last week, Coffee Time Romances had a special day where their forum was open to character chats. Since for me, writing is all about the characters, I posted some of the interviews and discussions my characters have had. I've posted some of them here, and they're also on my website in the 'free reads' section.

I found out this morning that this was actually a 'contest' and my interview with Sarah from Finding Sarah was the winning post. Surprise, surprise.


If you're interested, you can read the "interview" with Sarah here:

And thanks to Suzanne Brockmann for the inspiration.