Friday, July 29, 2016
Cover Copy for WHERE THE DEAD LIE!
Here's the cover copy for WHERE THE DEAD LIE, the next Sebastian St. Cyr mystery, coming April 2017. Cover reveal coming soon!
In the latest mystery from the national bestselling author of WHEN FALCONS FALL, the gruesome murder of a young boy takes Sebastian St. Cyr from the gritty streets of London to the glittering pleasure haunts of the aristocracy . . .
LONDON, 1813. Sebastian St. Cyr, Viscount Devlin, is no stranger to the dark side of the city, but he’s never seen anything like this: the brutalized body of a fifteen-year-old boy dumped into a makeshift grave on the grounds of an abandoned factory.
One of London’s many homeless children, Benji Thatcher was abducted and tortured before his murder--and his younger sister is still missing. Few in authority care about a street urchin’s fate, but Sebastian refuses to let this killer go unpunished.
Uncovering a disturbing pattern of missing children, Sebastian is drawn into a shadowy, sadistic world. As he follows a grim trail that leads from the writings of the debauched Marquis de Sade to the city’s most notorious brothels, he comes to a horrifying realization: someone from society’s upper echelon is preying upon the city’s most vulnerable. And though dark, powerful forces are moving against him, Sebastian will risk his reputation and his life to keep more innocents from harm . . .
Wednesday, July 20, 2016
Not Whining
This isn't intended as a whine, but I thought I'd let you know what's going on in my life at the moment.
My husband is suffering a spinal problem that is making it hard for him to walk, impossible for him to drive, and causing him enormous pain. My life has been consumed for the past three weeks with medical appointments and physical therapy and picking up all the minutiae of our daily life that he normally takes care of, all under a huge cloud of worry. In the midst of this, Huckleberry died; my daughter is getting ready to move to North Carolina (I had planned to make the drive with her but now can't leave Steve), and we've also had air conditioning, plumbing, and electrical problems that make it feel like the Fates are throwing mud at us.
I am also trying to keep writing Sebastian #13 and shepherd two books toward publication. Yes, two. I should be able to reveal the cover for WHERE THE DEAD LIE, #12, very soon. And I will also finally, finally be able to talk about that other book--the non-Sebastian one--that I've been hinting about for what seems like forever. Stay tuned.
My husband is suffering a spinal problem that is making it hard for him to walk, impossible for him to drive, and causing him enormous pain. My life has been consumed for the past three weeks with medical appointments and physical therapy and picking up all the minutiae of our daily life that he normally takes care of, all under a huge cloud of worry. In the midst of this, Huckleberry died; my daughter is getting ready to move to North Carolina (I had planned to make the drive with her but now can't leave Steve), and we've also had air conditioning, plumbing, and electrical problems that make it feel like the Fates are throwing mud at us.
I am also trying to keep writing Sebastian #13 and shepherd two books toward publication. Yes, two. I should be able to reveal the cover for WHERE THE DEAD LIE, #12, very soon. And I will also finally, finally be able to talk about that other book--the non-Sebastian one--that I've been hinting about for what seems like forever. Stay tuned.
Wednesday, July 06, 2016
Huckleberry
As many of you know, Sebastian and Hero's big, long-haired black cat was inspired by my own inimitable Huckleberry.
Huckleberry came to us as a tiny kitten just months after we moved to the States. Big, beautiful, smart, vain, and highly intolerant of most other cats, he was never demonstrative (you were allowed to hold him--only like a baby--for perhaps two minutes, then he'd had enough). But he was always, always, intensely affectionate, and he pined miserably whenever I left him, even for a few days. He followed me around the house all day, sleeping in the To Be Filed basket under my desk or in the special box I kept just for him under the coffee table near where I sit to write my books in longhand. He went with me up to the lake on my weeklong writing retreats--an excursion he always loved because he got to be an only cat. At night he slept on a dolls' bunkbed at the foot of my bed--Huck on the top bunk, Thomasina (his foster mom, adopted as a two-year-old rescue at the same time) on the bottom.
I love all my cats, but Huck was my special baby. He was at my side (meowing) through all the heartache and horror of Katrina and its aftermath. He comforted me when my mother died and when my girls spread their wings and flew. Three years ago I almost lost him to a flare of what we discovered was chronic toxoplasmosis (most cats are able to wall it off; Huck couldn't, and I learned it had killed his mother at age 8). I knew it would only be a matter of time before it flared again. I strongly suspect his grief over Thomasina's death six weeks ago sent his immune system into a tailspin that left him vulnerable.
Yesterday, I had to thank my darling for all the joy and love, laughter and sweet, sweet memories he brought into my life, and said goodbye. He has left a giant hole in my heart and in my life, and I am frankly devastated.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)