Road Trip

I certainly hope everyone loves a good road trip. I know I do. I've decided to take a trip back to that small town on the Eastern shore of Virginia...St. Agnes. This town has grown from that tiny little town along highway Route 13in Virgina, north of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel. No one knows the exact population, however, they do know the people are loving and compassionate and yes a little mysterious. If you are running away from your demons, St. Agnes might be the place for you. If you are running away from your future, yes, move on over to St. Agnes. You'd be surprised the things that happen in this tiny town. From Doninique Rue hunting down the killer of her police , in Whispers in the Dark to Chief Hunter Roberts almost dying in his quest to save Jasmine in Visions in the Darl, my St. Agnes series is the place for you. And I can't forget the ordeal of Marcus running for his life in Lost in the Dark. Save the date. I will kick out my little road trip April 16. So make sure you come back and get a taste of St. Agnes.

Fly hat and other things

Well, well, well. I wish we could turn back the time so I could figure out where it went, who took it and why. I can't believe it's already March 2013. Life has been over whelming to say the least. But that's okay. If we didn't have it... think about the alternative. My year started kind of bitter sweet. One of my major publishers, Tease, closed their doors in February. I was really bummed. They were great but I understand sometimes we have to move on to other things. Again, life. However, other doors have opened. I've got some really great things going on this year. I just released book three to my St. Agnes series. Lost in the Dark. I'm working on another single title that takes place in New Orleans. Right now it doesn't have a title so I'm calling it The Big Easy. I know, funny, especially since it's a romantic suspense and that title is not going to do it. I'm pretty sure a title will come to me. Maybe I'll have a contest to get one. Today is also the Hot M.A.M.A Fly Hat Luncheon in North Carolina. I was so wanting to attend. I even had my hat picked out. My sister said she thought I was going to get something a little more exciting, a little more fly. I'm thinking it would have been perfect since the last time I wore any type of fancy hat was about thirty years ago. I know, that's kind of sad too. What's a girl to do? My hats consist of base ball caps or something along that line. Well, I'm wishing my fellow authors and the writers who attended today a great time. And for the winners of my raffle... drum roll please. The wining raffle ticket numbers: 1278471 and 178477. To redeem your prize please email me at contestwithdenisejeffries@hotmail.com or though my web site. Please email me your snail mail address and attach a copy of your winning ticket. Good luck!......................................................... LOST IN THE DARK St. Agnes series You don’t have to hide in the dark if you’re already lost. Always ready to write that breakout article, journalist, Marcus Reed stopped at nothing to ‘get it done’… until now. Now, he’s awake and running for his life. Having awakened in a strange city, covered in dirt, grime and blood, not his own, the only thing he can do is seek help from the most unlikely source. The last thing Natalia Lucas needed was for this strange man to wander into her police precinct. Nonetheless, there’s something about him that has piqued her interest. His eyes tell her there’s more beyond the dirt and confusion… the amnesia, especially since he’s supposed to be dead, having been killed two weeks prior when his car blew up. Having vowed to help, they set out on a trek of constant danger. Natalia has secrets of her own and she does not want them uncovered. That fear alone could destroy the woman she’s worked so hard to become. When it’s discovered Marcus is still alive, whoever killed him will do anything to complete the task even if it means killing them both. Knowing breaking this case could put her on the map, she’s determined to put light where there was darkness. Bound by a common goal of finding the truth, they will do everything in their power to ignore the attraction that has ignited between them. As danger builds, will the passion between two ill fitted people be enough to save them or will the darkness they uncover destroy them both.

Any Season Chicken Salad

We were talking about chicken salad at work yesterday and it got me thinking, I make the best chicken salad in the whole wide world. After all the talk it got me hunkering for some so I made it today. Now I'm begging my hubby to save me some. He's on his second trip to the frig as I speak. I should have made double because now I remember the last time I made it people were fighting over the last bit. So to keep the peace in the land, here's the recipe and take my word for it, if there are more than two of you, make double. You won't be sorry. ANY SEASON CHICKEN SALAD 1 whole rotisserie chicken. (I’m especially partial to Sam’s Club but have used others like Farm Fresh’s Culinary Circle Rosemary Garlic.) Skinned, deboned and coarsely chopped. ½ Granny smith apple, peeled, cored and coarsely chopped. 2-3 Tbs Miracle Whip. 1Tbs mayo. 2 Tbs sweet relish. ½ c chopped walnuts (may add more if you like). 1 celery stalk, sliced length wise and coarsely chopped. 1/4 c onion finely chopped (optional). Ground black pepper to taste. Mixed ingredients and enjoy. The key to this fantastic chicken salad is the rotisserie chicken because the seasonings are cook through and through and by chopping the ingredients coarsely you get all of the other flavors. You may also substitute cranberries or grapes for apples if you like or use some of each. This chicken salad is great for sandwiches, on a bed of lettuce or with a nice garden salad. Even a nice cracker will do. Bon appétit.

Retribution, an ecerpt

RETRIBUTION

“What the hell!” Denver blinked back to reality but not fast enough before Mr. John Doe’s hand shot up and clamped around her throat. So much for the coma. Instinctively her fingers curled around his wrist, tightened, but she didn’t exert any pressure. Confusion and fear lit his eyes, shining like the full moon, or was it anger. It shimmered across her skin like a blast of cold windy air when someone opens a door in the dead of winter. She stared back as she patted the back of his hand. Energy sizzled through her fingers and up her arm. She forced herself to not snatch her hand back, but continued to caress his skin. “Where?” His voice sounded dry and strained. He tightened his grip as he sucked in a breath of air. “Are they?” Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, he stood and back walked her to the wall. “Not here.” Denver tried to soothe but it didn’t work. His hand squeezed tighter, cutting off what little air she reserved in her lungs. Okay, now would be a good time to get this man off me. “Listen buddy,” Denver coughed, “It’s all right. Nobody here’s going to hurt you. Let me go.” “Why?” His voice sounded stronger than it did a second ago. She could make him, would make him in another second if he didn’t release her. Denver curled her lips up into an ominous snarl and grunted a laugh. Being mindful of his injuries, yet ignoring his grunt of pain, she pivoted. Her body changed positions so fast in the blink of an eye she had released his hand from her neck, pinned him against the wall and had her face an inch from his. “Because--” she knew her eyes flared red, then instantly went back to brown just as she curled back her lips to show the points of her fangs descending from her gums. “--I said so.” “Aw hell.” His voice slurred. “You’re one of--” The muffled grunt escaping his throat hurt as much as the pain riddling through every bone and muscle. Not being able to hold his weight any longer, he went down on one knee, almost dragging the woman to the floor with him. “Hang on.” She grasped his arm and slung it across her shoulder, hefted him up and walked him back to the bed. Propping him against the side, she cursed just as lights exploded inside his head. He felt his eyes roll to the back of his head and once again had no control over the darkness as it overtook him. Reed let the thunderous clouds close in on him. He was too tired, in too much pain and too sick to care. Not sure where he was, what was going on or who the woman was standing guard over him, he drifted on a wave of nothingness. Her voice floated above him like a summer’s breeze. Although he couldn’t grab it he knew it was there. In more ways than one, he considered her voice an anchor. It kept him from plummeting too far into the darkness. It was what he heard before he grabbed on to it and allowed it to pull him out of the void he’d been trapped in for too long. Every day his body waited for her to enter his room. He didn’t care what time. Hell, time meant nothing to him. All he knew was it was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard. Warm. Soothing. Arousing. She’d talked to his body as if he knew her, but he didn’t. He didn’t know anyone. Not in this town wherever it-- he was. The trail of the serial killer he’d been following was almost cold until an anonymous tip brought him to the town. . He thought it was one person until he’d stumbled on their hideout. Four men of various sizes and age sat around a beat up television, plotting out their next kill. They had already killed his brother, claiming they were cleansing the earth of vermin. He was next on the list. They knew who he was and probably where he was. His only hope of survival was to kill them before they killed him or anyone else like him. Thoughts of bringing them in for justice were long dead. That was one road he’d never travel on again. Justice and fairness meant nothing to these people. They wanted to cleanse the earth. He was going to help them. Denver. Yes, she’d introduced herself to his unconscious self on the first day and he’d not forgotten her name. Denver, like the town in Colorado, she’d said with a chuckle. She wiped a blessedly cool cloth across his forehead. She always knew what to do. The warm caress of her fingers across his skin, on more than one occasion, made his mind sizzle. The pain riddling his body was from more than his injuries. From the first time she’d touched him, he’s wanted to make her his own, brand his being into her soul but he could never reach out. And now, now he’d done nothing more than try to break her neck. Thankfully he was unsuccessful. “Open your eyes, John.” Her voice slid through his mind, making his heartbeat slow in response. “Reed.” He didn’t move. Couldn’t if he wanted to because of the pain it was best to lay still. “My name’s Reed.” “You got a last name… Reed?” He didn’t answer. Denver didn’t press the subject. “How are you feeling, Reed?” She asked without missing a beat. “Like I’ve been hit by a Mack truck.” “You probably have.” Her hand continued to caress the side of his face. Slowly he opened one eye then the other and stared up into her face. Damn, she was beautiful. Like an angel descended from the heavens to pull him back. Sucking in a ragged breath of air that hurt more than he thought it would, he pushed up. “Whoa! Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Her hand cupped his shoulders and with a gentle tug pushed him back to the bed. “Shit.” On a better day, she wouldn’t have been able to do that, he told himself as his body descended back to the mattress. “I’ve got to get out of here. They’ll be here soon.” “Who are they, Joh—Reed?” “Them. The ones…” His voice slurred off when he moaned. “The ones who tried to kill me.” “Nobody’s going to try to kill you.” Denver turned away from the bed and lifted a syringe from the table. “You need to get some rest.” “No.” Before he could breathe another protest, she swiped the portal to the IV sticking out of his arm and injected the medicine. “Go to sleep, Reed. Its oh-two-hundred dark. You’ll feel better in the morning.” “Doubt that. He didn’t finish the sentence. The gray pressing into his mind gave way to the darkness. “I’ve got to get out of…”

Retribution

Denver Hamilton’s secrets have never been revealed to anyone… any human that is. She made sure of it, changing her life as it was warranted. Decades have passed and what she thought was a final stop is about to change. Everything she’s lived for, everything she’s hidden will come to light and all because of the day he came into her life. Reed was on the trail of a serial killer. He didn’t know he was the prey. He has never trusted anyone with the secrets he held within, especially not one of them. But now, his life depends on him trusting someone. Her. They aren’t even supposed to exist, but they do. Few and sparsely hidden, they will have to fight if they want to survive. The danger they’d been running from has closed in and has pitched two ill fitted lovers together. As the tables turn they will have to decide if what they feel for each other is enough for survival or will it destroy them both, as the hunted become the hunters.

Maiden of the Mist

Lia refuses to believe merfolk have but one true lone. One mate. If that were true then she wouldn’t have had a man fall to her from the sky. Paul’s life is in a shambles. It was one thing to have his fiancé walk out on him, but to do so with his business partner. What is there to live for? If he hadn’t hit his head when he fell into the water fall he would have thought he was going crazy when he woke with a mermaid in his tub. Can the far-fetched tale she’s dishing out be true. How much love will it take to bring them together forever?

A cool rainy day

I don't know if it was the sound of the rain hitting the ground outside my slightly opened window or the cool breeze filtering past the curtains, but I was over whelmed by feelings of home and comfort. I know I should have been writing like I promised but instead I found myself in the kitchen pulling out cook books. Dinner was already planned but not started yet, but the cook books were open on the counter and I found myself flipping through the pages. I remember when I was a younger one of my most favorit past times was sitting in the kitchen watching my mother cook, listening to her stories and instructions on how to do this and how not to do that. And interesting enough, momma rarely used a cook book. She only used it for her famout fruit cake. However, while she talked cook books were open in front of me and I loved perusing the pages, studying the pictures and dreaming of me in the kitchen cooking some of the recipes. As oddly as it seemed, when my mother died in 2002, the first thing I remember doing after the formalities where over, was getting those cook books and putting them in my suit case. They belonged to me, only me. So here I am today, feeling nostalgic and warm inside. It's been twenty years but Gracie is still there. Will always be. Who knows, maybe I'll make a walnut pound cake or some home made soup today.