Meet my cast of characters from RETRIBUTION. This is how I pictured them when I was writing the book…
6 teenage girls have been kidnapped, brutalized, and murdered in the Washington DC area and the FBI’s SPCD Unit – the Sexual Predators of Children Profilers – are nowhere close to finding the monster responsible. How are the victims chosen? How does the killer find them, contact them, lure them into his sick web? Questions the team has no answers for.
When a high-ranking US Senator’s daughter is the next victim, SPCD team leader, Tucker Petrie, is forced to call upon retired profiler — and his last partner — Kella O’Brien for help. Kella’s been out of the game for 10 years, but her expertise and insights into a serial killer’s mind are unparalleled. If anyone can discover who this madman is, it’s Kella.
But as the team rushes to prevent another young girl’s death, clues the killer leaves behind have Kella wondering if his endgame is all about…her.
I am so excited to finally be able to reveal that I have joined in with a fabulous cast of writers to benefit a more-than-worthy cause! And today is the cover reveal for the anthology.
Ta-da….
Wednesday, Coffee, & Books presents: Love, Lattes, & Holiday Tales a collection of brand-new unique short stories for the festive season. Snuggle up with some sweet and spicy romance from multi-genre authors, including New York Times and USA Today Bestselling.
These amazing multi-genre holiday stories featuring Hounds & Grounds and a loving pet will leave you believing in love and a happily ever after.
All the proceeds go toward 4 Paws for Ability, a non-for-profit organization matching service dogs with Veterans.
Featuring authors: CJ Warrant & Rochelle Bradley CJ Barlowe Rochelle K Bradley Sharon Hamilton NYT & USAT Bestselling
Phoebe Alexander USAT Bestselling Monica DiSmone USAT Bestselling Marie Hall USAT Bestselling
LC Taylor USAT Bestselling Miranda Lynn USAT Bestselling Faith Alexander C.J. Baty Sutton Bishop Cynthia Carver C. J. Corbin Aliya DalRae Hope Daniels Anna Hague Miski Harris Sara Hurst Juliette Hyland Peggy Jaeger ( THAT’S ME!!) Margaret Kay Tessa McFionn Sharon Michalove Charli Rahe AJ Renee Tori Ross Aurelia Yates
My little story is called MY PUPPY MATCHMAKER. Here’s the cover:
Dog Trainer Celia Mills has better relationships with dogs than men. She’s got a track record of dating self-centered, narcissistic, alphaholes and her therapist thinks it’s because she’s got a fix’em complex. Celia’s methods for changing behavior works with errant dogs, so why shouldn’t it with men?
Is it any wonder she’s still single?
When new client Ben Masters hires her to train his aunt’s dog, Celia’s lust-ometer goes into hyperdrive. But there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with him that needs fixing.
Could that be a sign she’s finally found her for-a-lifetime guy?
Because RETRIBUTIONreleases in just 14 days, I figured today would be appropriate for another little snippet from the book.
Brainstorming is the best way for the SPCD team to come to a meeting of the minds about who the killer might be. Here’s a quick little scene after they find the most recent dead girl.
“The cause of death in all the victims, including Brittany Chasen, was massive blood loss from surgical trauma, namely the removal of the girls’ reproductive organs. From the preliminary drug result data, no systemic anesthetics were used, and I couldn’t locate any topical applications either.”
Anna inhaled sharply.
“This sick creep opened these girls without providing any kind of pain relief. I can only hope they were unconscious, or already half dead when he did it.”
“Any physical findings?” Tucker asked.
“There was substantial muscle decay, indicating they were starved for the length of their captivity. You know about the ritual cutting of the arms and legs. Nothing that was deep enough to kill, but some of the open wounds were topically infected. Each girl had evidence of sodomy, vaginal rape, and swollen pharynx indicative of oral rape. Microscopic investigations showed no fibers, no DNA, no blood, nothing. Their bodies were scrubbed clean inside and out with bleach, probably postmortem, before they were dumped.”
Tucker nodded. “Anna?”
Referring to the device at her fingertips, she said, “Interviews with the parents of each victim have proved fruitless so far. All were somewhere other than they were supposed to be when they disappeared. Brittany was thought to be at soccer practice and instead was seen at a music store. Emily Johannson was due at school play practice but was last seen going into a CVS. Margaret Pearl had a piano lesson she skipped and went to a local mall instead. Erin Heuser missed a guitar lesson to go to a Quick-Mart. Paula Killarney dodged basketball practice for a coffee shop. And Magdala Profinsky was due to babysit for her cousin and wasn’t seen anywhere after her last class of the day. There’s no common link between them. All six attended different schools, lived in very different neighborhoods and came from widespread financial and social backgrounds. They didn’t know each other and there are no friends that link them. They were, for all intents and purposes, total strangers.”
“What’s the common thread?” Tucker asked, removing his glasses and cleaning them with a handkerchief.
“Physically, they resembled one another in basic makeup,” she said. “Each was approximately five feet three to five feet five inches tall. Each was a blonde with shoulder-length or longer hair, blue eyes, and trim physiques. White. None of them weighed more than a hundred and ten pounds. Two were vegans. Four played a sport, and two played instruments. Nothing stands out.”
Today’s five are a few more things about RETRIBUTION that I hope enthrall you and make you want to read it. These are all little pieces of info about and concerning the book,
this was the first full-length book I’d ever written. I penned it 20 years ago, stuck it on a file on my desktop and then forgot about it. When VELLA became a thing I published it to that venue and had a great deal of positivity come back to me, so I decided to update it and publish it for real.
I was serial killer obsessed back in the day. I’m that girl NETFLIX documentaries about them was invented, (LOL) and still am, to this day.
there is no real-life team called the SPCD ( Sexual Predators of Children DIvision) at the FBI, but there should be. I know there are a few dedicated to child trafficking and plain ol’ serial killers, tho.
shouting a gun ambidextrously ( as Kella and Anna can) is more common than you’d think.
The psychology of studying the serial killer mind is relatively recent in history, starting in the past 1880’s. With the advancement of criminalists and forensics, it has become much easier to target a serial killer’s crimes, if not the actual killer.
This week, we are back to my upcoming Heaven’s Matchmaker Book 2, LOVE MATCH, releasing on 5.21.24. Here’s the meet cute!
After moving from the outer office, Layla glanced down at her phone to note the time and while walking through the opened elevator doors barreled straight into someone alighting from it.
The someone was built like an army tank and Layla, literally, bounced off it like a coin dropped on a military-made bed.
“Oh.”
Just as she was about to fall backward and – mortifyingly – land on her ass, hands wound around her upper arms and squeezed to keep her upright.
Incredibly strong hands.
Layla’s gaze shot to those hands, which were tanned and sun-kissed, then traveled up the arms encased in a thick brown leather jacket to land on a jaw covered with a half week’s worth of ash-colored whiskers. A tiny vertical crevasse under the bottom lip, sitting squarely in the center of the chin peeked its way through the stubble.
Layla’s mouth watered. A chin dimple was her sexual kryptonite.
A long pair of legs ensconced in faded jeans hugged thick thighs and tapered down to rough-and-ready work boots covered with old paint splotches. His head was bare despite the cold of the day and the shock of unruly and errant wavy brown hair covering it made her fingers twitch for a touch. While she’d always liked a man with a chin dimple, the rough and ready workman look didn’t ordinarily strike her fancy. All the men she’d ever dated, including her now infamous ex, had been suit, tie, and pocket square guys who had monthly manicures, doused themselves in expensive cologne, and rarely – if ever – had unruly hair.
To say she had a type wouldn’t be wrong. To also say she finally realized that type was a bit of a douche would be equally true.
“Excuse me.” His voice was deep and tinged with a seductive rasp that Layla felt reverberate through her.
Ignoring the words, she concentrated instead on the lips they sailed through. Thick and full, their dusky rose hue reminded her of the color of tropical sunsets. Lifting her gaze up to the rest of his face she encountered a perfectly straight nose and a pair of Hershey’s Kiss-colored eyes shaped like almonds.
Layla had a weakness for almonds. And an absolute penchant for chocolate.
The unusual jealousy that bounded through her at the length and fullness of his eyelashes stunned her. She wanted to press her fingers against them, see if they were real, while at the same time rub her lips against that fabulous mouth to taste him.
She blinked a few times, then shook her head back and forth to rid it of the alien thoughts taking up residence in her brain.
“You okay?” he asked as he flexed his hands around the sleeves of her coat.
In just 2 weeks DON’T MESS WITH MISTLETOE goes live, so, of course, today’s teaser is from that!
(I swear, I’m a marketing genius – LOL Lol LOLOLOLOLO!)
The kitchen light was on as he came through the back door. Since he’d been the last one out the night before with his mother, he knew it had been off.
Had Winston arrived early?
Quietly, he pushed the door open enough to peek beyond it.
Surprise knocked the cautious adrenaline from his body. Even facing away from him, Michael recognized Julia Maryland seated at the table, a cup in one hand, a book on the tabletop in front of her. Clad in a faded pink, terrycloth robe, her hair spilled around her shoulders in a chaos of untamed waves. He hadn’t seen it down yet, since she’d worn it in a knot on top of her head while she’d waitressed.
Why was she sitting in the diner kitchen at four-thirty in the morning, drinking what he assumed was a cup of coffee, in her robe?
Michael pushed the door open all the way and in a quiet voice, said, “Julia?”
It was as if he’d shouted. She shrieked, jumped up, and dropped the book in her hand all in one jerky motion. Thankfully, she had a better grip on the mug. Swinging around to face him, her free hand flew to her chest.
She hauled in a jagged breath. “You scared the heck out of me.”
“What are you doing here? How did you get in?”
“Amy gave me a key.”
“To the diner? Why?”
Julia placed the mug down on the table, landing it with an audible thud. It was then he noted how fiercely her hands shook.
“Not to the diner,” she managed to say after taking another breath. She lifted her hands to hug them around herself. “To the apartment. You don’t need a key to get in here from there.”
Confusion made him say, “The apartment? Upstairs?” which, he realized as soon as he said it, was a stupid question, because there was no other apartment but the one above the diner. “Why?”
She nodded. “I’m staying there.”
He shook his head. “You’re staying in the apartment?”
Another nod, then a head tick with a question. “You didn’t know?”
“No. I intended to move in tomorrow. I thought it made more sense I be on site if I’m running this place for a few weeks than staying out at the house.”
“Oh, I’m…I didn’t…know. Amy said since it was empty I could…” she flipped her hand in the air. “I’m sorry.” She bit down on a corner of her lip. “Does your mom know you were planning to stay here?”
“Yeah, she does.” He shoved the keys in his coat pocket then shrugged out of it. He’d told her he was going to be moving in after Thanksgiving. Had she somehow forgotten? With everything going on, it was a distinct possibility. But he didn’t think she had. Amy Charles’ brain was stronger than a computer’s memory board. Once something was input, it was never erased.
The question was, why hadn’t she told him about Julia using the space? He had a sneaking suspicion and it had nothing to do with it having slipped her mind. With an internal headshake, he chastised his mother for her matchmaking busybody-ness.
“I’m sorry,” Julia said again, twisting her hands together.
With a quick glance at the wall clock, he said, “Don’t be. If she’s letting you use it I’m sure there’s a good reason,” he put his hand up in the air when she opened her mouth again. “One I don’t need to know about.”
My addition to the 2023 Dickens Holiday books releases on 11.1.2023. If you haven’t read the books in the Dorrit’s Diner series yet, you can catch up with the Charles family for just 99 cents each until release day. And DON’T MESS WITH THE MISTLETOE is currently available for preorder for just 99 cents. But that price won’t last after 11.1, so get in on the savings now!
Christmas has never filled writer Abra Charles with undiluted pleasure. If you’d been left on a doorstep on Christmas Eve morning, you might have a few issues with the holiday as well. Abra’s avoided her hometown of Dickens for the past twenty Christmas seasons, but now she’s returned in an attempt to get her writing mojo back. Twice-divorced and with her third engagement ending in heartbreak, anger, and blackmail, Abra is now six months behind on submitting her current book. She hopes renting Copperfield House and immersing herself in solitude will cure her writer’s block and get her life back on track. The house she rents isn’t helping her achieve her goal, though, as one thing after another breaks, collapses, or floods. Colton Bree, Dickens’ very own Mr. FixIt, can’t help but wonder if the new resident of Copperfield House is cursed. After being called to repair a broken window, he’s then needed to fix an exploding coffeepot, an overrunning toilet, and a washing machine that has a mind of its own. Bree doesn’t mind all the unexpected repair jobs, though, because the sexy renter is something to look at despite being a little neurotic and a whole lot of snarky. Can Abra get her book done with all the distractions and craziness of her life, the biggest distraction being the flannelled hunk with the bedroom eyes and scowling yet oh-so-kissable mouth? Or will Dickens’ Mr FixIt have to step in and save the day and in so doing, fix Christmas for Abra forever?
After a terrifying incident derails Sasha Charles’ career and confidence, she moves back to her hometown of Dickens to heal, reorganize, and start over.
The only problem? The paralyzing panic attacks that plague her whenever she thinks about going back to nursing. Sasha is mentally, and emotionally stuck, and has no idea how to move forward.
Steve Caldwell is the new Director of Services at Dickens Memorial Hospital. After witnessing her save the life of a local resident in Dorrit’s Diner, he knows Sasha would be perfect for the new trauma center he’s planning. When she refuses his job offer outright, he sets out to change her mind.
But Sasha has thick, protective walls erected around her so Steve must first break through them. With patience and kindness, he does. As the two grow closer, each begin to have second thoughts on what their futures should look like, until idle, small-town gossip threatens to derail their budding relationship.
With the imminent arrival of Christmas, will Steve be able to convince Sasha he has her best interests at heart?
It’s the holiday season in the tiny town of Dickens and pilot Michael Charles is home for his annual visit. His wanderlust has him itching to get back up in the skies as soon as possible, especially since he’s got a full schedule of rich and famous clients waiting to be transported to warm, exotic locales for the winter.
When his heavily pregnant sisters present him with a plan to give their workaholic mother some time off from managing the family diner, he balks. But one look at how tired the woman who took him into her home and heart is, and Michael agrees to run Dorrit’s Diner for a month so Amy Charles can get some well-deserved rest.
He’ll be back in the skies by the New Year.
The diner staff functions like a well-oiled machine, most of them long-term employees. The exception is new waitress Julia Maryland. The beautiful blonde has a past filled with heartache, a charming six-year-old daughter, and a smile Michael could spend the day getting lost in. But starting a relationship with her wouldn’t be wise because his visit is temporary and Julia seems like a permanent kind of girl.
When a family emergency requires him to rethink and reassess his life, Michael wonders if it’s time he becomes a permanent kind of man.
28 days is, in actuality, one month ( 4 weeks) so even though today is October 4th and the book releases on 11.1, it’s still 1 month away ( technically!)
So…..
YAY! Just a few more weeks until you can all meet Michael Charles and Julia Maryland.
Opposites attract, workplace romance, adoption, and past child abuse are all the themes in this romance – and yet, there’s tons of humor, too! It wouldn’t be a Dickens Holiday Romance if it wasn’t funny.
Michael Charles, the youngest of Amy and Andy Charles’ adopted kids is home for a quick Thanksgiving visit. Or so he thinks. Through the machinations of his “demon sisters,” Michael is sticking around until the New Year to give their mom a break from running Dorrit’s Diner, then he’ll be back in the skies.
As a reader, I know that some books leave you with a book hangover or the notion you wish you could go re-read it again for the very first time.
This book did both those to me – and I wrote it!!
I think Harper and Dylan are my favorite love match so far. And I know you’re not supposed to pick favorites among your kids, but…
This little gem releases on Monday, 9.18, and I just put so much of my heart and soul into writing it. I was penning it at the time I was going through a huge upheaval in my life this past year and just being able to escape into the lives of Harper and Dylan helped me barrel through that tumultuous time.
I truly hope if you read the book you enjoy their journey to their HEA as much as I did writing it for them.
Cyber Security specialist Dylan Keene is working undercover to suss out a corporate thief. The client wants answers – yesterday – and Dylan’s getting close. When he zeros in on coding expert Harper Vale, he thinks he’s found his mole and sets out to prove it.
Harper has a reputation as a coding savant and an introvert. As a woman competing in a male-dominated industry, Harper doesn’t make waves. Dylan’s interest in her is flattering, but after she’s implicated in the theft of the company’s protected software, she begins to doubt everything he’s told her.
When a series of potentially deadly accidents occur, all surrounding Harper, Dylan starts to wonder if she truly is guilty, or being made to take the fall. One thing is certain, though. The more time the two of them spend together, the more Dylan realizes he’s the one who’s falling – for Harper.
He slid his free hand into hers so he held both of them. “I hope you had a good time today.”
“I did. Surprisingly.”
He winced and winked an eye closed. “Ouch.”
“Oh, God, no. That’s not what I meant.”
Her cheeks turned five shades darker than the rest of her face.
“I meant I didn’t think tossing an ax around or beating up on inanimate objects was going to be fun, but it was. Really fun. Thank you for taking me. I’ve lived in this area for a while and never knew that place existed.”
Her nerves were adorable, another facet of her personality he shouldn’t be thinking about, because when he did it solidified he really wanted to kiss her.
Like, kiss-her-socks-off kiss her.
He nodded, then squeezed her hands. “Well, I’ve gotta head out. My brother gets testy when he’s kept waiting.” He shook his head and blew out a breath filled with dramatic exasperation.
When she grinned up at him, the free and easy laughter in her eyes warming his soul, he thought, what the hell, and let go of her hands to cup her chin.
The soft sigh of surprise that shot from her was almost his undoing. Leisurely, he rubbed her rosy cheeks with his thumbs as he watched her pupils dilate in the afternoon sun.
“Just for the record,” he murmured as he brought his head down, “I had fun today, too. More than I’ve had in a long, long time.”
And the funny thing was it was the truth.
Right before his lips touched hers, the notion to pull back and retreat from this madness blew into the front of his mind and was instantly kicked to the curb.
He knew he was playing a dangerous game, that one of them was sure to wind up hurt. But right now, with this gorgeous, fascinating, enigma of a woman standing toe to toe with him and looking for all the world like she was on board with the idea of kissing him back, he simply didn’t give a shit.
The moment his lips touched hers he knew a simple kiss would never be enough.
While his thumbs continued caressing her smooth, silky cheeks, Dylan let himself enjoy the delicate flash of desire he felt push from her.
If pressed before this moment, he would have admitted that while he liked kissing a woman and exploring all the ways he could stoke a flame of lust, what it ultimately led to was always more preferable.
But right now? That thought went out the proverbial window, because this simple kiss was more exciting, more pleasurable, more downright erotic than any other he’d ever given or received. He wanted to kiss her straight up the steps of her building, through her apartment door, and then in every room where she lived.
He’d thought her skin was soft, but her mouth, warm and responsive, was by far the softest thing he’d ever touched. He took a step closer, willing his hands to remain on her cheeks lest they’d drop and haul her flat against them.
The feel of Harper’s hands resting on his chest was twenty shades of delicious. She had to feel his heart banging against his ribs; had to know how excited he was. When she opened her mouth, the intoxicating taste of her drifting into him assured him he had to stop this madness, when all he wanted to do was…plunder.
On a sigh, he pulled back.
Her eyes, half closed and heavy-lidded told him she was as moved by the kiss as he was.
Slowly, he slid his hands from her face, hating he was no longer touching her.
The overpowering emotions careening through him made him nervous, something he never was with a woman. He cleared his throat and searched for something to say that didn’t sound lame or juvenile.
Harper opened her eyes fully, surprise jumping through them as she stared up at him.
Yeah, I know how ya feel, babe. Kinda shocked me, too.
Dylan cleared his throat. “Thanks again for coming with me today.”
Peggy Jaeger, Author 