An angry David plunges into insanity, forcing his twisted world view upon his new protégé as his old enemy seeks final revenge. Taking on all comers in the fight of his life he closely guards his dark secrets.
Barbara loves Bob, but why do Marty and David conspire to keep them apart? It can’t be the business that drives David, so what is it? What unmasks this bizarre evil genius?
People disappear. Hush money changes hands. Secret keys hide secret files behind secret doors. Suddenly thrust into a life or death situation, Barbara creates a clever plan to hunt down a key piece of evidence.
A quiet night is shattered by her dead mother’s voice. A priest who can’t possibly know her makes a mysterious appearance and stirs her to act. Can she risk her family’s trust and money to go away with her man? If they reach the Cedar River, will she have the strength to ford its raging current?
Erotic, thrilling, and deeply probative into the debauched thoughts of a ghoulish psychopath, When the Butterflies Come will haunt you, take your emotions for a roller coaster ride and make you an unshakable believer in true love and the magical spirits of butterflies.
I’m reclusive by choice. I live near the edge of a wilderness area and my best friends are the forest animals. I love watching them go about their lives. I like to disappear into the wild for several days or a week at a time to get my best ideas and do my thinking. I have one house pet, a big tabby cat named Bud.
My interests are varied. I’m fascinated by peoples’ varied personalities and forever curious about how different people came to behave the way they do and think the way they do. I like to write about things where I believe I can tell a story that sheds a fresh perspective on a possibly misplaced common perception, or when I can perceive something about the future that, for reasons I do not fully understand myself, I can develop a story around and use that story to project what will happen. I try to feel what my characters feel in my stories. In fact, sometimes I cry when I write about sad things, and sometimes I cry happy cries when I write about things that relieve a character from stresses or something bad. I also feel a terrible sadness for my bad boy and bad girl characters because they can’t help themselves from being bad. When my characters fall in love, I try to put into their minds the same feelings I think I would have if I were them.
It’s hard to explain what inspires me to write. It’s more because I enjoy doing it than anything else. I get to thinking about someone I knew or read about or heard about and then a story takes form. Some mornings when I wake up there are thoughts about one or more of my characters swirling through my mind and I hurry to write those thoughts down because they are the very best outlets to express the story. Somehow they bubble up from the sub-conscious. Likely the mind is more miraculous than any of us realize. Writing is a way for me to give to others by releasing my feelings. I’m always hopeful that my work will help someone gain a perspective they didn’t have before or someone will better understand a person they couldn’t understand before.
In the evenings I like to write my first drafts in pencil by an oil lamp. There’s something special about thought processes that take place when I’m alone with my lamp, my pencil, the wonderful silence and Bud. He loves to walk on my draft paper or lie down and stretch himself out on it. That’s his goofy way of telling me he needs my attention. Then I hold him close to me like he’s a little baby and give him gentle hug rubs until he purrs. That’s how I know he’s happy and feeling healthy. He has a great purr. He goes “purr, purr, purr, purr purr.” The rubs help him slip into another world, cat dream world I guess. My place gets a little untidy when I’m immersed in writing but it’s always clean, except for when Bud leaves a fur ball someplace. He can’t help himself when he does that. He’s a cat!