Romance & Adventure in the Dusky Tropics
Since my new release
won’t grace the internet until next year, I thought I’d do a little backlist
surfing. Today I’ll focus on two of my novels set in exotic locales—Whirlwind Romance, and Orion’s Foot: Myth, Mystery, and Romance
in the Amazon.
Whirlwind Romance is romantic suspense at its best—complete with a mysterious royal hero and evil power-hungry usurpers. It’s set mainly in the Western Caribbean on a tiny island. Warning: it is one of my early, spicy (R-rated) novels.
Blurb
In the aftermath of a hurricane, Lacey Delahaye finds
herself marooned on an island on the Gulf coast of Florida with a mysterious
man. They are immediately drawn to each other, but before Armand can confess
his identity, they are kidnapped and taken to a tiny island in the western
Caribbean. With the help of her son Crispin and a cadre of loyal followers, she
and Armand must face down pirates, power-mad ideologues, and palace intrigue,
if they are to restore the once idyllic tropical island to its former glory.
 |
| The beach where they escape |
Excerpt (G): The Escape
Lacey looked out again. “What’s the other castle, the
one on the northern point?”
“It’s the ancestral estate of the Proctors. The first
secretary has always come from their ranks. Edrigu is the current
officeholder.”
“The first secretary is like what, a vizier?”
“Yes. And treasurer, chief steward, commander of the
army—”
Lacey stifled a giggle. “An army of one?”
Armand looked down his nose at her. “For your
information, our muskets still work, and both Stefan and Luis are well trained
in hand-to-hand combat.”
“Should it ever be needed.”
He turned grave. “I hope to God it never will be.”
It reminded Lacey of their predicament. “Where is
Ulisses, do you suppose?”
Almost as if he’d been listening, the door sprang
open, and Traficant entered, carrying a coil of rope. “I have an appointment
with a man named Damiano.” He put Lacey on the cot and tied her hands to the
bedposts. Dragging a chair to the other side of the room, he lashed Armand to
it. “Now stay put. I won’t be long.” He left.
They heard the splash of the anchor. A little later,
the sound of oars dipping into the water told them their captor had taken the
dinghy. Spread-eagled on the bed, her arms stretched painfully, a familiar
panic smothered Lacey’s senses. She had never been able to stand having her
arms pinioned. She laid her head back and tried to relax, but her breathing
quickened and hysteria washed over her. She concentrated on the gentle rolling
and pitching of the boat.
“Here, let me.” Warm breath misted the back of her
head.
She tried to jerk upright, but the ropes pulled her
back down. Her eyes wild, she opened her mouth to scream, but a rough hand went
over it. “Shhh, quiet, Lacey! You’ll
wake the dead.”
“Armand! You’re…you’re free! I thought…I thought…”
“Now if you will kindly wiggle your fingers.”
Lacey did so and soon felt a loosening of the bonds
around her wrists. “How did you manage it?”
Armand held up his hands, free of rope. “Unlike
American prep schools, Eton teaches useful skills such as fencing and
lock-picking.”
“I bet you’re a big hit at parties.”
“As a matter of fact…” He picked up her hand and
kissed the tips of her fingers.
Lacey took a deep breath, and peace flooded back into
her body. “So, your degree is in escape artistry?”
“Among other things.”
She rubbed her wrists. “What do we do now?”
“We get off this boat.”
“You mean, swim?”
“If we have to.” He stood up and paced the cabin.
She stopped him, hand to his chest. “You can walk!”
“What?” He looked down as though discovering his feet
for the first time. “Oh, yes. The ankle is nearly healed.”
“But you were limping heavily only last night when
Ulisses took you.”
“That was for his benefit. If he thinks I’m still
lame, he won’t worry about our getting away.”
“I see.” She went to the door and tried the handle.
“Locked.”
Armand held up what looked like a needle. “Standard
school supplies.” He fiddled with the lock until the door sprang open.
“Why didn’t you use that before?”
“And go where?”
Orion’s Foot: Myth, Mystery, &
Romance in the Amazon
Orion’s Foot is wild—it’s set deep in the Amazon at a research station, where a mysterious cryptid may be attacking the scientists. A cryptid can be a creature from myth and legend, a supernatural or paranormal entity, an extinct animal who may still inhabit a specific area. It’s often of unusual size or appearance—like the yeti, the sasquatch, or the Loch Ness monster.
Blurb:
The Mapinguari
Excerpt: The Mapinguari
They went back down the path they’d
come, surveying the ground and vegetation for any trace of a large animal. They
had reached the mahogany tree when Petra checked her watch. “Winston’s been
gone half an hour. Maybe we should—” Her words were cut off by a low snarl.
“Emory? Is that you?” She whirled around. “Where are you?”
For answer, the growl grew deeper and
more menacing. Sounds like a gorilla—but
they don’t live here, do they? She whispered, “Emory?”
“Shh.”
She looked up. Emory clung to a low branch of the mahogany tree. He held a hand
out. “Quickly.”
She grabbed a liana, hoping fervently
it wasn’t a Strychnos vine, and
scrambled up. The growl came again, closer. They climbed higher. Something
crashed through the woods, puffing. Whatever it was entered the clearing, and
the noise stopped. Petra held her breath and Emory’s hand. It must be looking for us. After a lengthy pause that left her
feeling chilled to the bone in the torrid heat, the puffing started again,
gradually diminishing into the distance. She waited five more minutes to be
sure it was gone before whispering, “Did you get a look at it?”
“No, the foliage was in the way, but
it sounded awfully big. And grouchy. I’m going to—” As he started to climb
down, a twig snapped below them. They froze.
Something’s
being dragged through the underbrush. They waited another five minutes. Finally, she ventured, “Do you think
it’s gone?”
“I don’t know. Let me go first.” He
ducked and touched the top of his head. “Uh-oh. I hope that’s not monkey scat.”
She raised her face to the canopy.
“It’s rain.”
“Just a drizzle. No problem. We…shit.”
The downpour came suddenly, drenching
them. They sat, huddled under the canopy of leaves, waiting it out. Petra
tasted a drop on her forearm. “They don’t have acid rain here, do they?”
“No—they have a lot of poisonous
species here, but no industrial pollution that I know of.” He shielded his face
and looked up. “We can only hope manchineel trees don’t grow here. We’ll have
to ask Aguirre when we get back.”
“Manchineel?”
“Small trees of the swamp. Their sap
is extremely toxic. If it drips on you, it burns and blisters the skin. Enough
exposure can kill you.”
“But if the poison is only in the sap,
we’re safe unless we tap into the tree, right?”
“I wish. It’s a particularly vicious
plant—even runoff from the leaves in a rainstorm can sluice the poison onto
your skin.”
“Great.” She began to shiver, mainly
due to nerves. The rain stopped.
They heard a shout. Winston came
tumbling into the clearing. “Up here!”
He looked up. “What are you doing up
there?”
“We heard something.”
“Never mind. I have news!” He panted.
“My…my…son…he saw it.”
“What?”
“The Mapinguari.”
Emory started to climb down but
paused. He stretched out an arm and grabbed at the hair, stuffing a hank in his
pocket. “We should study it when we get back.”
Petra followed him. When she reached
the ground, she found Winston, his face aglow with feverish excitement. “Your
son saw a Mapinguari? Is he sure?”
“It was running through the scrub.
Acarapi followed it, but in his hurry he stepped on a snake. He pulled up and
it got away, but he says it was very tall and hairy.”
“Where was he when he saw it?”
“Only a few yards from here. He was
picking herbs for the shaman. When the snake bit him, he went home for help.”
They crossed the clearing on the way
to the boats. Winston slipped but caught himself. “What’s this? Were you people
hungry? There is food in your backpacks.” He picked up a peel. “You shouldn’t
have eaten Francisco’s bananas. You will have to pay him.”
A stalk of bananas had been stripped
from the tree and dozens of empty peels lay about. Petra shook her head. “It
wasn’t us.”
