Next Wednesday, my new book, MURDER ON THE HOOF, will be released on ebook for Kindle. It's a departure for me, with new characters in a new venue, doing things a little differently than Skip and Peri. For one thing, my main character is an amateur sleuth, forced to investigate a murder because she is the primary suspect. As you can imagine, no one wants to cooperate with her, especially the police.
And no, her BFF isn't a coroner. She's a horse trainer.
For all you Benny lovers out there, I'm sorry there is no Dino-worshipping in this book. There are a couple of actors, both of TV and movies, who appear. I'm not giving them real names, but perhaps you'll be able to connect the dots.
Here's the jacket copy, and an excerpt:
* * * * *
She was looking for a horse. What she found
was romance. And danger.
Willie
Adams is at the L.A. Equestrian Center shopping for her first horse. A young
widow struggling with the idea of dating again, she never expected that a
gorgeous trainer like Tyler Ransome would notice her. But he did.
He
wasn’t the only one, either. Bobby Fermino is not as handsome, nor as pleasant.
After attacking Willie he ends up dead in her tack room, leaving her the most
likely suspect.
Willie
has to convince Detective Lucas Macy that she’s innocent, but her physical
attraction to him isn’t making the task easy.
With
growing evidence pointing to her, and two famous actors drawing attention to
the investigation, Willie decides to take the reins. She must find the murderer
before they find her, but will she survive opening her heart to someone new?
* * * * *
It wasn’t the first time a handsome man
looked through her, and she figured it wouldn’t be the last. It was, however,
the first time a pair of blue eyes made Willie want to turn and run. Their
glacial hue popped from the dark lashes and eyebrows, punctuating a face of
such angular ruggedness and spectacular beauty, she suppressed a gasp.
Her heart balked, but she planted her feet.
“Tyler Ransome?” She extended her hand. “I’m
Willie Adams. My trainer, Emily Jungers, is meeting me here to look at one of
your horses.”
He remained in his seat and stretched his
hand to meet hers—a slow, deliberate move, as if he was considering whether to
shake her hand or not. His palm felt firm and dry, one pump of a shake, then
withdrawn.
“Nice to meet you.”
Willie glanced into the stall used as a
makeshift tack room. A rack holding saddles and blankets was visible in the
shadows. She could still see a corner of the large red sign hung on the front
of the barn aisle, proclaiming “Tyler Ransome Performance Horses” in large
black letters. Two canvas-backed folding chairs sat, unopened, against the
chipped, faded beige wood.
She gripped the travel mug of coffee in her
hands, and found herself taking small, nervous sips to fill the silence. The
warm aroma of hazelnut caffeine was chased by the smell of hay and horses and
leather.
“Seems a little cooler this morning.” Her soft
voice jarred against the quiet, but she felt the need to conquer her
uneasiness.
He nodded, the brim of his faded blue
baseball cap shading his eyes from the July sun.
So much for the weather, she thought. Perhaps
I could ask him how he likes the Dodgers. Of course, it would help if I knew
something about baseball.
A rattle of spurs made her look up, thankful
for the distraction. Emily Jungers, a tall, lithe redhead, strode toward them
and held out her hand. “Tyler, good to see you.”
“Hey, Em, how are you?” The cowboy unfolded
his long limbs from the chair and stood, offering his hand in return. “You
wanted to see the little mare?” He pointed down the barn aisle and strolled
away with Emily.
Willie took a step to follow, then looked
down at the mug in her hands. Once a comfort, it now felt awkward. She glanced
around. There was no table outside to leave it on, so she went to the tack room
and stuck it inside the door, then hurried after the two trainers.
Emily’s long steps were easily keeping up
with Tyler. The only way to catch up to them would involve running. Willie
decided to get there when she got there.
Damned long-legged people, she thought. Would
it kill them to wait for me?
The stalls on both sides of the barn aisle
had horses in them, all hanging their heads over the Dutch doors. She looked at
her watch. It was a little past ten, so they were probably waiting on a
mid-morning snack. The air was warming toward its goal in the high eighties, a
typical summer day in southern California. She savored the beauty of each horse
as she walked by, then observed the people walking in front of her.
The girls at her stable were right. When she
had mentioned him, Elliot’s owner Barbara had said, “Ooh, Tyler Ransome, rhymes
with handsome.” He was easily a head taller than Emily, broad-shouldered and
lean under his tan T-shirt. Of course, she couldn’t see much of his face from
her current position, but the view was still mesmerizing.
What’s wrong with me? I’m way too old to be
gasping at a pretty boy. And what would I want with him anyway? We have nothing
in common. A face like that, he’s got to be a player. He’s not like my Hank at
all.
Hank had been gone for three years now,
leaving her a widow at barely thirty. The good news was there were no children
to raise without him. The bad news was she would have adored raising his
children. Photographs and videos couldn’t be hugged in the middle of a bad
night, and her memories of their carefree marriage did not feel like much of a
legacy.
* * * * *
There's more to come...
