Monday Morsels: Dark Justice

DARK JUSTICE

by Angela Smith

Luke—Twelve Years Ago

“All rise for the jury.”

I stand, my legs unsteady. The jurors filter in, one by one, their eyes downcast. Those who look, only glance at the prosecutor. Not me or my defense attorney.

Wayne’s breath hitches. It’s a whispery whoosh, a sound he likely doesn’t realize he’s made, but it tells me everything I need to know. I almost collapse in defeat.

He thinks they found me guilty. And by their expressions, I agree.

I size up the crowd gathering in the courtroom. Most of them sit on the prosecutor’s side. Clint is there. Once my best friend, but now I’m convinced he’s a killer. He’s next to Lauren. The love of my life and the one I presumed would stand by my side forever. But since she believes I killed her sister, I guess I can’t blame her for turning her back on me.

But Clint? Fear curls my spine. He’s charming, I’ll give him that, but he’s an absolute psycho. Nobody in Lauren’s family will listen, especially Lauren. And before all this, I wouldn’t have believed Clint is the killer. He killed her sister. How do I know she won’t be next? How can I protect her if I’m locked in prison for the rest of my life?

The judge drones on about the charge, then asks the jury if they’ve reached a decision. Wayne shifts and gives me a blink that tells me he wants to make sure I’m aware of what’s going on. I’m eighteen, for God’s sake. How could anyone my age understand criminal justice?

He’s warned me of how you can never predict a jury, but this group of fourteen holds their heads high as if they’ve never been surer in their lives. Two of them are alternate jurors, so it’s up to five men and seven women to decide my fate.

An older gentleman hands the bailiff the verdict. I hold my breath, and the judge reads. “We the jury find the defendant, Lucas Donovan Fuller, guilty of murder.”

Gasps fill the room. Chaos erupts, at least in my bones. More like a commotion, nothing too disastrous to alert the judge, and something he’s probably accustomed to. He only regards the crowd. A lot of loud talking, crying, and my mother’s wails. He’s way more patient than me and waits for everyone’s reaction to subside.

My muscles grow weak. I badly want to sit and wonder when I’m allowed. I want to reach out to Lauren. Tell her I’m sorry this happened, I didn’t do it, she has to trust me, and please, please don’t trust Clint. I open my mouth to say these things, but my attorney stations his hand on my shoulder, as if his one palm is going to keep me silent.

He warned me over and over not to react. I’m not allowed to speak. I am barely allowed to move, and I can’t look her way, although I shift to do so. The bailiff puffs out his chest and walks closer, as if I’m going to bolt.

“Calm down,” Wayne says. “We still have punishment. Don’t make a scene.”

Why shouldn’t I react? This is life changing. My life is over. I’m going to prison. The judge hasn’t declared a final sentence but after everyone’s testimony, I’ve started to believe my own guilt. I’m likely going to prison for the rest of my life.

****

Luke—Present Day

Luke Fuller’s pen scribbled across the page. His heart hammered while he wrote the words, ears filling with the deep drum of his heartbeat as if he was re-experiencing the event. Tired of writing, he shut the notebook and tossed it on the wrought-iron table beside him, along with his cap and shades. He stood and opened the grill to check the ribeye.

Food would be ready in a few minutes, and all he needed was right here. A little salt and pepper, paper plates and plastic forks to eat with, and a cooler full of drinks. Even a hundred feet from the river, the bullfrogs’ croaking put him at ease.

A sound he never expected to hear again.

He closed the grill, grabbed a beer from the ice chest, and lounged on the patio chair. It took a while for his heartbeat to settle. Writing these memories was difficult, harder than he expected, and his body ached from the flashbacks.

The sun descended, a showcase of gold fueled by rain clouds and humidity. He loved the open porch and didn’t want a screen to filter him and the outdoors. With bug spray, sleeping out here at night was a dream come true, despite the oppressive mugginess. Lightning flashed in the south, implying the much-needed shower was near. Nothing better than the clatter of rain on the roof.

Even the mosquitoes avoided the Texas July heat, but he’d take heat over the prison cell where he’d spent the past twelve years of his life. He’d take it over that any damn day.

LED lights strung across the porch offered a soft glow to ease him come sundown. He hated the darkness. Too many reminders of prison and the things he wanted to forget. But this darkness out in the country was peaceful, welcoming, different. Almost bearable.

A car drove up, the headlights zipping through the trees. His muscles tensed. He studied the nearby monitor attached to the front security camera. The car parked, the lights shut off. His lungs tightened, burned, then disintegrated when the woman stepped out and sauntered to the back.

She remembered. Friends always came to the back door. But she was no friend.

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She’s in love with her sister’s killer...
Lauren has loved Luke since first grade. They planned to marry—until he murdered her sister. The moment he was sentenced to prison, Lauren fled with her secret baby and made a new life. Now she’ll do anything to keep their daughter safe. But her hard won peace shatters when Luke is exonerated, and it sets her on a path of mixed emotions to discover the truth. Letting a killer into their tightly knit family is out of the question. Or is it?

She almost destroys her life by threatening his…
Prison stole his future with Lauren and twelve years of Luke’s life, so the last thing he needs from her is a knife in the back or a gun in his face. Lauren believes he killed her sister, and he has no plans to pick up where they left off. Luke can’t afford to trust her, but he wants nothing more than to convince her he’s worth fighting for.

Their daughter is in danger… 
Luke is heartbroken when he learns they had a child together. Now his daughter is in danger. Lauren trusted the wrong person for far too long, but he hopes she’ll now trust him. Luke will risk everything to keep them safe. And Lauren will risk everything if she lets him into her heart.

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Monday Morsels: The Girl Who Knew Da Vinci

THE GIRL WHO KNEW DA VINCI

by Belle Ami

It was nearly closing time, and there were few people left in the North Pavilion where pre-1700 paintings and sculptures were displayed. Natural light from the ceiling cast a warm glow, washing the precious masterpieces in a filtered luminosity. Alex Caine entered one of the gallery rooms and noticed a young woman sitting by herself. Something about her stillness drew him.

Her midnight hair, secured in a bun atop her head, and her black-framed glasses couldn’t hide her beauty. The prim accoutrements enhanced her high cheekbones and full mouth. He moved closer to get a better look at her. She was oblivious of him and showed no sign that her private sojourn had been intruded upon.

With her hands folded in her lap, the young woman sat like a statue. Her dark eyes were riveted to a painting. A portrait of a young man captured in eternal contemplation. The subject’s eyes were hidden from the viewer. Why Botticelli had chosen to paint the young man with his eyes downcast was a mystery. The youth was handsome, almost beautiful. Thick dark waves of hair framed his face. He wore a stylish red velvet tunic that distinguished him as a man of royalty or rank. However, wealth could not dispel the overwhelming sadness imbued in his face. In three-quarter profile, his finely etched brows portrayed a man of extreme sensitivity, his face and demeanor more of a poet than a man of commerce.

He recognized the painting of Giuliano Medici—he’d seen it before, in Berlin. But never had he witnessed such a visceral reaction to a painting as this young woman had. The woman was so deep in contemplation that he could have broken out in song and she wouldn’t have flinched.

He hovered for a few moments, inexplicably drawn to her serene beauty. She began to whisper as if she were speaking to the painting, but he couldn’t hear what she was saying. Peculiarly, the lights dimmed, and an encroaching darkness descended upon him and the young woman. Looking up, he noticed the skylight showed a clear, blue sky.

What the hell is going on?

A fog swirled up from the floor, forming a cloudy curtain, separating them from the other visitors to the museum, who seemed completely oblivious.

A sudden flash of light over the painting propelled Alex to protect the woman. He rushed to crouch in front of her, but she continued to stare at the painting as though in a trance.

“Are you all right?” he asked her with concern. He felt compelled to protect her, but protect her from what?

What happened next made him doubt his sanity.

Her eyes changed color, turning from dark brown to forest green. Her gaze fixated on the young man in the portrait as though he were alive and standing before her. Her expression reflected radiant, passionate, love. Intense. All consuming.

It took his breath away.

Alex’s eyes shifted back to the portrait and what he saw sent his pulse racing.

The young man in the painting came alive, turned his face, opened his eyes and stared at the young woman, his dark eyes mirroring the same intensity as hers.

Alex was stunned. Never in his life had he witnessed such intense love in just one look, let alone directed at a portrait of a young man who’d died more than five centuries ago.

He shook his head, trying to clear his vision. Any minute he expected to hear Rod Serling’s voice.

Another flash of light, like a lightning bolt, shot out from the painting toward them. Reacting on pure instinct, Alex covered the woman with his chest and arms, feeling the jolt hit him in the back. Not pain, exactly. But certainly a shock.

He pulled away from the woman, hoping she was okay. And then something remarkable happened. She looked him straight in the eyes, laid her hands on either side of his face and spoke to him.

“Ti amerò per sempre.” I will love you forever.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she spoke.

“Sei l’unico uomo che amerò mai.” You are the only man I will ever love.

Alex had lived most of his life in Europe and was fluent in Italian. He understood every word she said.

She leaned in and pressed her lips to his, provoking him to respond. Desire seized him, his fingers tangled in the silk of her hair, pulling it free from the confines of her bun. A waterfall of dark waves cascaded down her back. Their tongues danced together and for long, breathless moments, he lost himself in her kiss.

Regaining his composure, he pulled away from her luscious mouth. The woman gazed at him with the same intense love she’d directed at the painting only moments before. Her eyes, still the color of forest-green moss. He was mesmerized. A yearning flowed through him, the likes of which he’d never felt before. He wanted this woman with every fiber of his being. Shocked at his own visceral response, he let go of her and leaned back, his gaze straying to the painting of the young man. He was relieved to see the portrait had returned to “normal” and the young man’s visage was turned away once more.

The young woman turned his face back to hers. “Siamo insieme in questo,” she whispered. “Devi aiutarmi. È il nostro destino.” We are in this together. You must help me. It is our destiny.

And without another word, she got up and left, walking through the swirl of gray mist.

The gallery filled with light again, the cloud lifted and the buzz of visitors walking by filled his ears. There was nothing to indicate anything out of the ordinary had occurred.

His heart was pounding, and he got up from the floor and sat on the bench. His face felt hot and feverish. The surprise kiss had unglued him. Hell, the entire experience had unglued him. He sought to find a plausible explanation.

He hadn’t had a PTSD attack in about two years. It had taken a year of intense therapy to mitigate the effects of four deployments in Afghanistan, capped off by a compound fracture that had nearly cost him his left leg when the Humvee he was driving was blown up. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and focused his mind until the raging storm passed. This didn’t feel like PTSD. This was something completely different.

Inanimate objects don’t come to life. It must have been the light playing with my imagination. And the kiss? Yeah, it’s been too long… This case must be getting to me.

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In the spirit of The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown comes a suspense thriller that unravels an unforgettable mystery  . . .The Girl Who Knew Da Vinci by Belle Ami.

One painting, three lifetimes, will her visions lead her to the truth?

Art historian Angela Renatus is haunted by dreams of Leonardo da Vinci and a mysterious painting of Giuliano Medici and his mistress Fioretta Gorini. A painting that, as far as the world knows, doesn't exist. Compelled by her visions, Angela is determined to find out the truth.

When Angela is contacted by art detective Alex Caine, she's shocked to learn that he too is seeking the same painting. Alex's client, a wealthy German financier, is determined to clear the name of his late uncle, Gerard Jaeger, an art historian, who went missing in Florence, during World War II. In letters written before his disappearance, the historian describes his love affair with a beautiful young Italian woman named Sophia Caro, and the discovery of an extraordinary painting by the great master himself—a painting depicting Giuliano and Fioretta.

Angela and art detective, Alex Caine journey to Florence in search of the priceless treasure. Is it a lost da Vinci, potentially worth hundreds of millions of dollars, or a wild goose-chase that will only lead to a dead end? But someone else is searching for the elusive painting—Alberto Scordato is a powerful man in the art world and a sociopath who will stop at nothing to get what he wants, even murder. Scordato knows something about Angela that even she doesn't know, something that could threaten both Angela and Alex forcing them into the crosshairs of fate.

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Tuesday Special: The Devilish Duke

Maddison Michaels

www.maddisonmichaels.com.au

Devlin Markham, the notorious “Devil Duke” of Huntington, needs a woman. And not just any woman. If he can’t woo one of the most eccentric bluestockings of the Ton within the month, he can kiss his hard-earned fortune goodbye. But he’s always thought love a wasted emotion and marriage an inconvenience at best. And oddly enough, Lady Sophie Wolcott seems unmoved by his charm…

When Sophie learns her beloved orphanage is in imminent danger, she will do anything to save it. Even marry a ruthless rake who takes what he wants in business and pleasure. A man who’s everything she’s always feared most—but whom she reluctantly begins yearning for.

Then Sophie becomes the target of a killer lurking from the dark shadows of Devlin’s past. And they find not only their lives in jeopardy but their very hearts.

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Indoctrinated into a world of dashing rogues and feisty heroines when she was only 14-years-old, Maddison Michaels is a prolific reader and an award-winning writer of historical romantic suspense fiction. A member of the Romance Writers of Australia, Maddison is as passionate about her writing as she is about her other two loves; her family and her cups of tea. Maddison is the author of two novels:  THE DEVILISH DUKE, which recently won the Australian Romance Writers Historical Romantic Book of the year (RUBY), and THE ELUSIVE EARL.

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Meet Lyn Morgan aka Lyn Lawrence

The Write Way Café welcomes Lyn Morgan aka Lyn Lawrence,  whose life is made of stories.

 
What inspired you to become an author?  
I was always telling stories even before I wrote them down. Often to amuse my friends since I was a child in the ‘40’s and we devised our own fun without tablets or cell phones. Soon I began to write them down. Then when I was 12, my sixth grade teacher told me I would someday write books.
 
Can you share a little of your current work with us?  
Presently I am working on a television pilot titled BIGFOOTVILLE. Doing final edits on a new book to be published this fall titled, DARK WEB OF DREAMS and if that is not enough, my memoirs, MEMOIRS OF EVELYN ROSE CAT which has a potential publisher
 
Is there anything you find particularly challenging in your writing? 
When I write about things that are sad or have hurt other people or even have to write a death in a romantic suspense, I find those topics difficult and challenging.
 
Do you read your reviews? Do you respond to them, good or bad? Do you have any advice on how to deal with the bad?
I read them, I only rarely respond to them. For bad reviews, a best selling author once told me she was always driven to buy and read books with really bad reviews and was convinced some bad reviews were written by the envious. Haha, so I felt better about one in a romance magazine no longer being published that had gained me only one star.
 
What is your best marketing tip? 
I don’t market very well. I recently had good results with a Facebook boost on my author page and one on a page for a movie I co-wrote..

What is your least favorite part of the publishing / writing process? 
Well, if I have to self-publish, I do not enjoy the formatting phase. Thankfully I have a publisher for the book coming out in the fall and don’t have to do it. This publisher is new and is Southeast Media.
 
Is there one subject you would never write about as an author? What is it? 
I will not write erotica ever. I will rarely use bad language.
 
Why did you choose to write in your particular field or genre?  If you write more than one, how do you balance them? 
I write in more than one. My preferred genre is romantic suspense and I have written three that are in print. I like romance novels and I have written one historical romance. LOVE IS A VERB is in print. I have planned and partially written a Civil War series. And I also write scripts. And non-fiction. And books about my movies.
 
Where did your love of books/storytelling/reading/writing/etc. come from? 
Both my parents and grandparents were all avid readers. One grandmother was also a librarian. I was raised in a household filled with every kind of book and I read constantly as a child and until I finally started writing and publishing my own works. I have only limited reading time now. But I always have at least one book I am reading.
 
What cultural value do you see in writing/reading/storytelling/etc.?  
Wow, is there culture without reading? Recently on a flight, I sat by two high school seniors and we talked the whole way about books and I was amazed at those they were familiar with. As for storytelling, it has always been a part of human life. Around camp fires, at family gatherings, anywhere.
 
How do you feel about ebooks vs. print books and alternative vs. conventional publishing? 
I read both ebooks and actual print books. Ebooks are easy on my old joints and my fading eyesight. I am now in my eighties and holding print books tire my hands. I love print books and am proud to say one of mine has made it into hardback, STONE JUSTICE, a true crime which in ebook form was on the top 100 list on Amazon for a couple of months.

What do you think is the future of reading/writing? 

There will always be readers. There will always be writers.
 
What are some ways in which you promote your work?  Do you find that these add to or detract from your writing time? 
Well, sometimes they do detract from writing time, but book signings, teaching classes at any venue possible from community colleges to informal ones at writers conferences, and critique groups and/or book clubs. I’ve done all of these.
 
What is your favorite place or way to meet readers?
At a book signing. It is always a treat, especially is they are my fans.

Do you have any tips for readers or advice for other writers trying to get published? 
Keep reading. Keep writing. 

So long folks!

Lyn Morgan aka Lyn Lawrence

BEST HOTEL ROYALE

In a seemingly haunted Hot Springs, AR hotel, 

Cassie fights for her independence and her 

baby daughter's life while falling in love 

with the owner of the hotel.

 

LOVE IS A VERB

A young Indiana school teacher

leaves her groom at the altar 

to head by steamboat 

to Louisiana to teach.

BROUSSARD BAYOU INN 

Shay and Tony, once both members 

of the Cajun posse's water patrol, 

are brought together again when he 

returns to town, but can they rekindle 

their love and solve the mystery 

which once drove them apart?

STONE JUSTICE

 The true story of the only woman 

ever electrocuted in the electric chair 

in Louisiana, Annie McQuiston 

better known as Toni Jo Henry.

 

SKOOKUM:THE HUNT FOR BIGFOOT 

The book based on the movie of the same name 

which was filmed in the beautiful Caddo Lake 

area of North Louisiana, it is a different look 

at Bigfoot, but could it be the right one?

About Evelyn Morgan: 

     Writing under the names Lyn Lawrence and Evelyn Morgan, she is a multi-published author, co-author, and screenwriter.
     Evelyn was born in Lake Arthur, a small town in the southwest corner of Louisiana where she spent her childhood. She now lives in the northwest corner of the same state.
     Evelyn is a Romance Writers of America member and a member of the RWA chapter, NOLA Stars. With two books in print and one script in post-production, she is currently working on three more scripts. She and her co-author will republish STONE JUSTICE, with new information and photographs and documents soon.
     A movie, titled THE PARDON, based on the same true story recounted in their book STONE JUSTICE, premiered July 23, 2010, at Stony Brook Film Festival on Long Island, NY. Their original script, though not used in filming the movie, will be included in the new edition of STONE JUSTICE.

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Monday Morsels: The Elusive Earl

THE ELUSIVE EARL

by Maddison Michaels

Chapter One 

1856—London, England

Miss Penderley was in trouble again. Of course she was. He should have known that was the case as soon as he’d received the summons from Sir Walter.

Daniel Wolcott, the Earl of Thornton, leaned back against the blue-brocade-covered armchair and regarded the man seated across the expanse of the desk. “She managed to become accidentally engaged to not one but two men and at the same time? Whilst in Italy, of all places. Do I have that correct?”

Sir Walter Penderley sighed heartily. “Yes, apparently so. Though, I do not know the exact details, my boy. Unfortunately, my wife’s letter was rather absent of important information. Apart from disclosing of my niece’s accidental betrothals, all she added was that help would be needed to delicately untangle Brianna from the predicament.”

Daniel swore softly. For over ten years, Sir Walter Penderley had been in charge of the intelligence department for the War Office, and for twenty years before that, a spy himself. Looking at him, though, with his easy smile, gray hair, and jovial girth, he would be the last man you would expect to have such authority and power on behalf of the British Empire. But he was excellent at his job. Just not so excellent at keeping his niece under control. “No offense, Sir Walter, but wherever trouble is, Miss Penderley is sure to be at its very center.”

“Yes, my niece has a tendency to get herself into some rather unusual predicaments,” Sir Walter agreed.

“Putting it rather mildly?”

“Possibly,” Sir Walter conceded. “But I must implore you to travel to Naples and extract her from the situation, Thornton. My wife and daughter are there with her, but I feel, considering the circumstances, a man needs to be there to assist. I would go myself if it wasn’t for this nasty Frantleigh investigation, but time is of the essence. You know what Italian men are like; they are particularly hot- headed when it comes to affairs of the heart. And I don’t wish for Brianna to try to intervene between the two and get hurt, or worse, married.”

“She should be married. Someone needs to control her impulsive ways.” The woman was far too headstrong and used to running headfirst into situations without properly considering her actions beforehand. She should have married years ago, and then perhaps, whoever the poor chap was could have had her well in hand before now.

But then Daniel shook his head. Who was he fooling? Miss Penderley was like a bright, burning flame, and one he doubted any man could control. He suddenly felt sorry for her unfortunate fiancés. They obviously had no idea what they were getting themselves into, becoming engaged to the chit.

“Are you offering, dear boy?” There was a look of eagerness on the old man’s face that alarmed him.

“Good God, no,” Daniel exclaimed. The thought of marrying Miss Penderley, and the ensuing mayhem it would cause to his well-ordered life, sent a chill down his spine. He wouldn’t wish that hoyden on anyone. “Any man who ends up stuc—ah, married to your niece would be in for a life of constant chaos, with her rash and headstrong nature. No disrespect, Sir Walter, but that is certainly not my idea of a suitable marriage. Besides, you know I have no particular wish to marry until I absolutely must.”

Sir Walter looked at him appraisingly for a moment. “You are not your father, my boy.”

The mention of his father had him stiffening up reflexively. No, he was not his father, and he damn well wasn’t going to end up like him either—a rake and a wastrel who had broken his mother’s heart time and time again, until eventually, he’d broken her spirit and been the catalyst for her death. A man Daniel had spent the better part of twenty years doing his hardest to never emulate, particularly as the man’s blood flowed in his veins. Hence why Daniel adhered to a well-ordered regime, at least in his personal life. There was no way in hell he was going to lead such a chaotic life as his parents had, nor would he take part in such a disastrously tempestuous relationship.

“It’s a moot point in any event.” Sir Walter slumped slightly in his chair. “She wouldn’t have you.”

“Wouldn’t have me?” For some reason, the man’s words rankled. He did, after all, have to spend the majority of his time at balls and assemblies fending off determined mothers from foisting their darlings on him. His sister enjoyed reminding him that he was considered quite the catch, thanks to his title and fortune—and much to his annoyance. But here Sir Walter was, saying the irrepressible Miss Penderley wouldn’t have him?

“No. She dislikes your ‘stuffy ways’—her words, not mine—as much as you abhor her rather free-spirited nature.” “Well, at least in that, we are agreed,” Daniel allowed. But still, the fact that she thought him to be stuffy annoyed him. Clearly, she didn’t know about the occasional clandestine missions he assisted Sir Walter with. She wouldn’t think him stuffy then. Although, why he was allowing Miss Penderley to affect him while she was over a thousand miles away was a mystery.

###


Brianna Penderley has a knack for getting into precarious situations, especially when it comes to her love for archaeology. In the heart of Naples, her terrible Italian has her accidentally becoming engaged to two men at the same time. Of course, Daniel Wolcott—the Earl of Thornton and the only man ever able to vex her—shows up to rescue her.

Daniel has spent the majority of his life exercising rigid control over his emotions, determined never to become the rake his father was. But when he goes to aid his mentor’s danger-prone niece once again, he finds himself struggling to control his attraction to a woman who is his complete opposite.

When their situation goes from bad to worse, Daniel and Brianna find themselves swept up into a perilous adventure, and they must work together to set things right. Now, if they can just avoid killing each other in the process.

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