After the death of her beloved cousin, Lana Andrews has to get away to be alone, to grieve. She rents a quaint little beach house in Plymouth MA. Little does she know she would meet that one special love, an unexpected love. That one true love is Mike Ramsey, and he’s a U.S. Marshal and the beach house owner.
As their love grows, so do their troubles. Someone is stalking Lana, and Mike has to figure out who it is before the stalker gets her. Not only does he have to protect her, he must find the connection between Lana and the stalker before it’s too late. They soon find out this man desperately wants Lana, and he’ll go through any lengths for that to happen. Mike’s team find out how desperate this man is when he starts murdering innocent people.
Being a U.S. Marshal for years, he knows how to protect people. This time was different. This time, the victim is someone he deeply loves. No matter what, he will do what it takes to protect his beautiful Lana. Once he finds out the name of the stalker—he is not so sure he can.
Targeted Age Group:: 18+
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
Several years ago I took a vacation to Cape Cod and stayed at a beach house. It was early fall and the weather had already turned cold. Every day I took a walk along the beach and listened to the waves. One evening a man was also walking along the beach coming the opposite direction. I imagined him a stalker or even a serial killer. I held my breath as he walked by. Of course nothing happened except a hello nod from both of — but it was exciting. About that time, the lighthouse light in the distance turned on. It was a magical moment. That’s when I thought about writing a book. It had to be based around the beach and the lighthouse. When I started writing, one book turned to two, then three.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
I decided to base the story around an innocent woman who lost someone close. He had to be the protector who falls madly in love with her. Once I decide the two main characters, I outline the entire book. Then I write the ending first. I have to know what direction I’m going. After I’ve outlined and wrote the ending, I develop the second characters and villain. The second characters are developed during the writing of the book. I try not to pick more than a few because it gets too confusing.
Lana would have never found the beach house if it wasn’t for GPS. It was a beautiful drive. The sunset glowed, leaving remnants of orange and purple lingering in the sky. The ocean roared to her left, and she cracked the window so she could smell the salt in the air.
As she turned onto the cul-de-sac, she saw fire coming from the chimney. It was a wood-burning fireplace. As she drove closer to the house, she couldn’t believe the breathtaking view. Talk about a Thomas Kincaid setting. The house sat at the end of a cul-de-sac and behind it was the vastness of the Atlantic Ocean. The anvil clouds allowed the deep-setting sun to peek through just a little. Flickers of orange bounced over the waves as they capped, making the ocean look like a dream. Lights illuminated through the windows causing a faint glow. The hint of fog in the air made it look like Heaven, or at least how she imagined Heaven. Just the sweet look of the house made her feel content.
Next to the house sat an old, white 1982 Dodge pickup. She knew it was Mike’s truck, and although she never met the man, she imagined he looked like a ship’s captain—a gruff-looking man who was short, chubby, and grumpy. She imagined he had a long, white beard with a pipe. She knew he had a short temper with a get-to-the-point personality, and he’d be annoyed with her for being so late. Now that she saw his truck, she thought her initial description of him would be spot-on.
As she got out of the car she felt the crisp, salt air sting her face, and it felt good. The air was refreshing and for the first time in weeks, she felt at peace. However, that peace turned to nervousness when the front door opened, and Mike walked out to the front porch. She knew he would fuss at her but instead, she heard him say in his incredibly deep voice, ‘Welcome to Massachusetts! I hope you had a good trip. I have started a warm fire for you.’
His kindness surprised her, and she thought that gesture was a change for the better. Lana graciously responded, not quite paying attention to him. She preferred looking at the amazing scenery. “Hi, Mike. At first, I was going to say again how sorry I am that I’m late, but now I’m not. A few minutes later or earlier, I might have missed all this beauty. What a beautiful home you have, especially at sunset. This is far more awesome than I ever expected. I did time this perfectly I must say.”
She finally looked up and took a good look at him. She was shocked by his height; he was every bit of six-foot-four with salt and pepper hair, mostly pepper, piercing sky-blue eyes, and a smile that would brighten any gloomy day. He was in excellent shape with no chubby tummy on him. His five-o’clock shadow showed he’d had a long day. He wore jeans and a blue oxford button-up shirt with a black jacket. The shirt certainly brought out his blue eyes, even at dusk. She noticed his crisp, white T-shirt under his oxford and thought it looked refreshing.
His rugged good looks caught her off-guard, and she was at a loss for words. She fumbled with her keys and finally found the one for the trunk. Awkwardly, she managed to walk to the back to get her two bags. In just a few quick steps, he moved in close behind her, reaching for the suitcases. His strong arm brushed hers and just for a few seconds, their eyes met. Lana turned away knowing her face turned bright red. She happily noticed his did as well. He easily managed the heavy bags; it was like lifting a feather. She remembered how she struggled to put them in the trunk.
“Let me get those for you. As little as you are, I’m surprised you could lift them at all.”
“I managed, and thank you for helping.”
She scampered in the house and noticed how warm and inviting it was. At the front door was a small entrance with the living room straight ahead, and it had a glowing fireplace to the right. On the left was the elegant kitchen with an island that had a bar. Next to the bar sat a small but quaint dinette set. Off that room was the guest bedroom. To the right of the den was the master bedroom.
She loved the kitchen. The cabinets were made of old driftwood. All the appliances were stainless. This gorgeous kitchen would be one only seen in magazines, definitely a kitchen she could picture Mike building . . . or at least the captain she first visualized.
He had placed some Bella Casara cheese and crackers on the bar, along with a bottle of Pinot Noir wine.
He interrupted her thoughts. “I knew you probably didn’t have time to shop, so I bought a few things to get you through tomorrow. The wine is for you to enjoy this evening and relax.”
She glanced up at him to thank him, and his eyes stared squarely into hers before she embarrassingly looked down and said, “Thank you.” Her face flushed, and her stomach flip-flopped as he walked past her. She thought he mumbled the words you’re welcome.
When he reached the door, he told her where he hung the keys put his phone numbers. This time when she looked up, he didn’t pay her any mind. Then he left without a proper good-bye, but she was too tired to care.
As she stepped onto the back porch, the darkness didn’t allow her to catch a glimpse of the ocean, but she could hear it. The waves rolled in with a deafening roar. She closed her eyes and pictured them slamming the beach then disappearing into oblivion. She remembered as a child lying in bed and listening to the ocean talk to her. She hoped that same feeling relaxed her tonight. It was funny how she distinctly remembered the sound even though it was decades ago.
When she opened her eyes, her memory fast-forwarded to today and the reason she was here—to mourn. Then, an overwhelming sorrow plagued her heart, and her eyes filled with tears. Lana wiped them away and told herself no more tears today. Instead, she got busy checking out the fridge. She found some smoked turkey breast and fixed a sandwich with a glass of milk. She looked at the bottle of wine and decided to save it for the last night. Once the kitchen was clean, she sat in front of the fire and watched the flames. The fire relaxed her soul, leaving her with a much-needed feeling of contentment.
Exhaustion had overridden her sadness—a blessed alternative. She lay on the couch, and a smile crossed her face as she thought about how Mike didn’t fuss at her. Then darkness fell.
About the Author:
Lora Lindy is an Amazon best seller in crime fiction. She enjoys writing about the places she loves. The Days Trilogy came about after a vacation in Cape Cod. One evening she took a walk along the beach when she encountered a stranger. As he got closer she imagined him a stalker. Of course he wasn’t, but she thought it would make a great story. If you like a romantic thriller with hunky federal agents and a damsel-in-distress, this is the trilogy for you.
Get in contact with Lora Lindy:
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