DOING TIME - NO, NOT THAT KIND

Oops, on Monday, August 6th, I have to be in three places.Which is why I'm late here.  I'm at Sky Purrington's gorgeous blog, A Writer's Mind http://skypuringtonwrites.blogspot.com/ and at the Keller-Fort Worth Writers As We Were Saying at http://kfwwriters.blogspot.com/ Please stop by if you have a chance. And on Tuesday, August 7th, I'll be at Rachel Brimble's blog in England. http://rachelbrimble.blogspot.com/ You can see I'm doing my time traveling via the internet.

WE HAVE A WINNER! The winner of Cindy Nord's NO GREATER GLORY is Kathleen. Cindy will be contacting you, Kathleen. Congratulations!

 Now to today's blog from me.


Thanks for stopping so I can remind you about my Heather Cameron cozy mystery series, DIGGING FOR DEATH.  This book is available in print and Kindle e-book. I love feel-good books, and DIGGING FOR DEATH fits that definition. Sure, someone dies, but he's the meanest man in town and it's off scene so the reader isn't exposed to the gore. So, pour yourself a worthy beverage (alas, mine is hot tea) and join me while I tell you about Heather and her family.

Heather’s great-great grandparents helped found the town of Gamble Grove north of Dallas on Highway 75. Gamble Grove is only a real town in my imagination. It’s near where Van Alstyne or Anna are on the map. My dad was born nearby at Pilot Grove and my own maternal great grandparents were named Gamble, hence the name. Like real towns in the area, Gamble Grove is rapidly growing and fighting to retain its small town charm as it copes with expansion. Local businesses struggle to compete with the big box chain stores.

Heather’s grandfather founded Gillentine Gardens and Landscape Design. In spite of the usual big box type stores that come with growth, customers are loyal to Gillentine Gardens. Heather, who majored in horticulture and landscape design at Texas A&M University, also holds a B.S. in business. She is a sharp young woman. The death of her parents when she was eight resulted in her being raised by her maternal grandparents and great grandmother. One of her companions what Walter Sims, who had been a good friend of her dad’s and worked for her grandfather. Now Grandpa Gillentine has retired and put Heather in charge of the business.

Here’s the blurb:

Garden center manager Heather Cameron is DIGGING FOR DEATH to prove her old family friend and employee, Walter Sims, is innocent of murdering the meanest man in town. Heather can’t trust the police to find the real killer when all clues point to poor Walter. The dead man was beaten to death with Walter’s shovel several hours after they were overheard arguing, and the two men had a long history of enmity. Walter definitely looks guilty, but Heather is sure—well, almost positive—okay, she certainly hopes her friend and mentor is innocent.

Heather Cameron

  Heather is compelled to scour the fictional North Central Texas town of Gamble Grove to exonerate her old friend. She’s encouraged when the new police detective in town, Kurt Steele, shows interest in helping her look for clues. Or, is Kurt just interested in spending time with Heather?
The deeper Heather digs into the dead man’s life, the more she justifies his ruthless reputation. Walter is indicted, but police begin to suspect the victim’s stepson as murderer. Heather is convinced the stepson couldn’t have murdered anyone either—although it’s clear no love was lost between the two men. The attempted murder of the victim’s real son creates a new twist. A chance observation at dinner after the reading of the murdered man’s will slips the last piece into the crime’s intricate puzzle. Can Heather solve the murder without becoming another victim?

Here’s an excerpt:


Lining the Rockwell’s drive nearest the new garden plot were a fire engine, an ambulance, a van, what was probably an unmarked police car, two black and whites and—dang, wouldn't you know it?—the Gillentine Gardens truck. The muscles in my stomach were like vise grips clenched on my insides as I drove past the other vehicles and parked. Sickly dread overwhelmed me at what I might find.
I wanted to turn my car around and drive home and run up to my bed and pull the covers over my head. No such luxury for me. I climbed out of my car and strode quickly toward the crowd, swallowing down fear’s metallic taste in my mouth.
Container rose bushes destined for Bootsy Rockwell's garden almost filled the garden center’s staked-bed truck. Miguel Diaz sat on the truck’s bed with his feet dangling off the end. Steve Harris sat beside him. Bad vibes shot through me. A uniformed policeman and another man stood talking to Miguel. Miguel looked ashen and ill, but he nodded to me. Steve said nothing, merely hung his head.
"Hello, Heather." Miguel shook his head, despair evident in his sad brown eyes. "It's really bad."
"What's happened?"
The officer turned to me. "You know the whereabouts of Walter Sims?"
"He's supposed to be at the garden center. What's happened?" I repeated my question.
Steve looked up, but said nothing.
Miguel looked as if he were trying to send me some sort of signal. "Heather, it's—“
The man in plainclothes quieted Miguel with a glance as he stepped forward. Good heavens, what a giant. Must be six-four with shoulders broad as our truck. Even a long, tall Texas gal like myself had to look up to meet his gaze.
Whoa. What a gaze it was. Worried and puzzled as I was, I couldn’t fail to notice his eyes were delphinium blue and his dark hair the color of moist peat moss was cut short. He wasn’t GQ handsome, but definitely attractive.

Detective Kurt Steele

"I take it you're Miss Cameron? I'm Detective Kurt Steele and this officer is Sergeant Jack Winston. We need to ask you a few questions."
"Not until I know what's happened. Why are you questioning Mr. Diaz and Mr. Harris?" Darn, stress must have fried my mind. I couldn’t believe I refused a detective.
"Vance Rockwell was murdered early this morning. We want to speak with Walter Sims. No one here seems to know where Mr. Sims is.” He paused. “Do you?"
Rockwell dead and Walter missing? Panic rose with the bile in my throat.
No, please don’t let Walter be the killer.
At that moment, paramedics wheeled a gurney bearing a black body bag past the truck and loaded it into the ambulance. Oh Lord, Rockwell dead from Walter’s shovel? And Walter hated him.
Carole King was in my head, and the earth really did move. Dropping away from my feet, leaving me drifting. The sky tumbled down. Swirling, everything was swirling. Spiraling around me. I thought I might throw up or pass out—or both.
The detective stepped forward and grabbed my arm, anchoring me in the mixed up universe. "Miss Cameron? Maybe you should sit on the truck by Diaz and Harris."
But the sky still tumbled, the earth spiraled around me. I was a kid spinning until I was drunk with dizziness.  Sky flipped places with earth. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.
"Yes...Yes, I’d better." With Detective Steele's help, I staggered to the truck. I shrugged off his hand intent on levering myself onto the bed. But I stood there as if in a trance.
The detective hoisted me up onto the truck s if I were a kid. I sat there wondering if I were going to pass out.
I felt Miguel’s hand at my neck. “Your head, put it between your knees.”
I did as he instructed, closing my eyes and taking a couple of deep breaths. When I straightened, my head was throbbing but the earth and sky had resumed their correct positions.  Sky above, earth below.
Willing my eyes to focus on the detective, I insisted, "Walter wouldn't bash in anyone's head." I prayed I spoke the truth.
Detective Steele referred to his notes. "It appears he and Mr. Rockwell had a heated argument yesterday about a quarter of five. Mr. Sims stalked to the truck—“he pointed at Steve”—where Harris waited, and peeled off."
Drat Walter, coming here when I’d ordered him to stay at the garden center. "If you consider anyone who argued with Rockwell a suspect, you'll be interviewing half the state." I almost included myself but thought better of it. "Besides, you said Walter left."
Sergeant Winston said, "Maybe he returned."
"Phffft." I peered at Detective Steele. "Sounds like you’re grasping at straws. What kind of detective work is that?"
Steele's clenched jaw displayed a small tic.
Oops, I shouldn’t have said that.
He stood directly in front of me and glared. "We just started the investigation. If we had some cooperation, maybe we could wrap this up in time to buy donuts before we take our lunch break."
Way to go, Heather. Not a good idea to annoy the police.
I took another deep breath. At this rate, I’d soon hyperventilate. “There’s no need for sarcasm. I don't know where Walter is, but I know he wouldn't kill anyone, not even Vance Rockwell."
He raised his eyebrows, making his nice blue eyes more noticeable, darn him. "Not even? What does that mean?"
"Rockwell was not a popular man. I imagine you'll find a long, long list of people with motives, detective. Leave Walter alone." I glanced at Miguel slumped beside me and patted his shoulder. "Leave all my employees alone. None of them would have done such a thing."
Detective Steele poised his pen over his notebook. "Where were you just after midnight, Miss Cameron?"
I thought again about his nice blue eyes, but pushed those thoughts aside because of his nasty question. "In my apartment. Asleep."
He raised one eyebrow.
I shot him a glare. "Alone."
"So, you have no alibi?"
"People who live alone never have an alibi. That doesn't mean they're guilty of anything more serious than drinking juice from the carton."
He pulled out a business card and handed it over. "We'll be in touch. Call me if you hear from Mr. Sims."
"Can Mr. Diaz and Mr. Harris go?"
Detective Steele nodded. Miguel and Steve slid off the truck bed to the ground, and Miguel helped me down. While they walked to the truck's cab, the detective speared me with another no-nonsense glare.
"If you hear from Walter Sims, you'll be doing him a favor if you convince him to call us. We need to talk to him, and the sooner the better."
I turned and walked back to my Jetta. My heartbeat fluttered and my throat threatened to close so I couldn’t breathe. I was afraid I wouldn’t make it to the car, but I climbed in and turned the ignition.

I hope that excerpt tempted you to buy DIGGING FOR DEATH. It’s available from
Amazon http://www.amazon.com/Digging-Death-Caroline-Clemmons/dp/1478159421/ref=sr_1_13?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1344267587&sr=1-13&keywords=caroline+clemmons

Thanks for stopping by!

THE MYSTERY OF THE 777 MEME

Jacquie Rogers

What is the 777 meme? Is it a mystery to be unfolded one clue at a time? Nope, it's a game, sort of a promotion game for authors who want to trick readers into buying their books. No, wait, I didn't mean to say that. No, no, of course not. The 777 meme is a fun way for readers to find out more about books. Yeah, that's better.Sure.

Friend and author Jacquie Rogers (author of the hilariously clever MUCH ADO ABOUT MARSHALS and other linked books) tagged me in a 777 meme. Jacquie is a fellow western historical author who also writes craft books for writers.

Apologies to Jacquie, but instead of a western historical, I've chosen the 7th line on page 77 of my contemporary cozy mystery, DIGGING FOR DEATH, which is the first of the Heather Cameron series. I'm currently at work on DIGGING FOR BONES, the second Heather Cameron adventure, while I also am writing my western historical HIGH STAKES BRIDE, the second of the Men of Stone Mountain trilogy. I don't understand why I'm compelled to write two books at once, but a writer's mind is positively unfathomable.None of us claims to be totally sane.Of course, I don't have two computers at which I type simultaneously. No, it's a mood thing. In addition to being slightly nutty, writers are often moody and capricious. No, no, make that writers are flexible. Yeah, sounds better, doesn't it? Sigh. But I digress.

As with most of my books, the setting is Texas, this time north of Dallas about where Van Alstyne is located. My dad was born nearby in Pilot Grove, and Darling Daughter 1 lives not too far southeast of there. Hero and I lived in Richardson when each of our daughters was born. You can see why I feel an affinity for that area of North Texas.

Before I give you the 7th line of page 77, let me give you the blurb and set up:

BLURB:
Garden center manager Heather Cameron is DIGGING FOR DEATH to prove her old family friend, mentor, and employee, Walter Sims, is innocent of murdering the meanest man in town. Heather can’t trust the police to find the real killer when all clues point to poor Walter. The dead man was beaten to death with Walter’s shovel several hours after they were overheard arguing, and the two men had a long history of enmity. Walter definitely looks guilty, but Heather is sure—well, almost positive—okay, she certainly hopes her friend and mentor is innocent.
  Heather is compelled to scour the fictional North Central Texas town of Gamble Grove to exonerate her old friend. She’s encouraged when the new police detective in town, Kurt Steele, shows interest in helping her look for clues.
The deeper Heather digs into the dead man’s life, the more she justifies his ruthless reputation. Walter is indicted, but police begin to suspect the victim’s stepson as murderer. Heather is convinced the stepson couldn’t have murdered anyone either—although it’s clear no love was lost between the two men. The attempted murder of the victim’s real son creates a new twist. Can Heather solve the murder without becoming the killer’s next victim?

SET UP:

Heather Cameron

Heather attends the murdered man’s funeral with her grandparents and great-grandmother. But I can’t tell you more or I’d have to kill you. ☺ No, the truth is that I simply don’t want to spoil the plot. Here’s line 7 of page 77 plus a bit more:

This time the organist got busy. A portly man I didn’t recognize walked forward and sang “How Great Thou Art.” Then, the minister took the lectern. He was known locally for long, rambling sermons. I was glad my family went to the Presbyterian Church a block away. I hoped he wouldn’t drone on or spout false virtues about the deceased. I’d heard Bootsy attended church here, but I wondered if the minister had even met Vance Rockwell.
During the times I’d met her, Bootsy had seemed a delightful, good-natured scatterbrain with an unchecked lavish sense of style. Her quiet weeping now unsettled me. No matter how much I disliked Rockwell, I couldn’t help sympathizing with his family.
In record time for this long-winded minister, the service was over. We all stood as the casket was carried out of the sanctuary, followed by the bereaved family. We waited our turn and filed out behind the others. Kurt spoke to Winston, the officer who’d been at the murder scene questioning Miguel and Steve, then both men left the church.
On the portico, we saw Kurt and Winston watching the Rockwell family drive away in a stretched black limousine.
Gigi poked Kurt’s arm. “Hello there, young man. I’m thinking about your marriage proposal. I may take you up on it.”
People within hearing turned to stare, saw it was Gigi, and went on their way. Something to be said for getting old and being able to say whatever you wished.

Kurt Steele

Kurt grinned. “Glad to hear it, Gigi. Sad occasion this, but how are you?”
“Any day a person my age goes to a funeral and it isn’t mine is a great day. You remember my granddaughter, Heather?”
Grandpa said, “He ought to, out strolling the town with her half the night.”
Beside Kurt, Winston coughed, and I had a feeling he covered a chortle. Kurt actually blushed, but he smiled at me and winked.
“I couldn’t let her walk around on her own, sir, and there was no talking her out of it.”
Grandpa shot me a glare then shook hands with Kurt. “You don’t have to tell me about this girl’s stubborn streak. Her mother was just the same. Appreciate you keeping an eye on her.”
He sounded as if I were ten and needed someone to hold my hand crossing the street. But I knew better than to protest and open that can of worms in public. “We’d better hurry to the car if you plan on going to the cemetery.”
Kurt offered his arm to Gigi. “Allow me to help you down the steps.”
Darned if she didn’t reward him with a flirty smile. “Always ready to have a handsome man escort me.” She looped her arm with his. “I hope they hired an extra awning. I’m not standing, especially not with the sun blazing on my skin.”
  “Must be why your complexion has remained so lovely.”
On the other side of him, I said, “Steele, you are so full of it.”
He only grinned as he stopped at the bottom of the steps and handed her off to me. “See you at the cemetery.”

I hope that tidbit teased your interest and you can’t wait to purchase this cozy mystery from Amazon, so here’s the BUY LINK:
http://www.amazon.com/DIGGING-Heather-Cameron-Mysteries-ebook/dp/B0086PAIDK/ref=sr_1_11?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1340754357&sr=1-11&keywords=caroline+clemmons

Now, I’m tagging Anna Kathryn Lanier, Vonnie Davis, Linda LaRoque, Linda Swift, Paisley Kirkpatrick, Susan Macatee, and Callie Hutton to either blog their 777 meme or post it on Facebook.

Thanks for stopping by!

THANK YOU TO LOYAL READERS!

Last week when I offered readers the gift of a free copy of my new cozy mystery, DIGGING FOR DEATH, I belatedly realized there were terrible formatting problems. My sincere apology! I immediately corrected the error, but to atone I’m once again offering the book FREE. Yep, free cozy mystery giveaway Monday, June 11, through Tuesday, June 12 on Amazon Kindle. One thing I would very much appreciate is IF you like the book, please put a favorable review on Amazon. If you hate the book (how could you hate my baby?) then please keep it a secret except to email me why so I can perhaps correct any plot errors in the next book.

The book’s protagonist is Heather Cameron, 28-years-old, who manages her family’s garden center and landscape firm. Her master’s degree from Texas A&M qualifies her to do a great job, but she is compelled to prove herself to her grandparents. Heather’s parents died when she was eight, and her grandparents, Meg and Richard Gillentine, along with her great-grandmother, Elizabeth “Gigi” Gamble Gillentine, raised her. Helping Heather is her assistant manager, Miguel Diaz, and her shop manager and best friend, Chelsea Bedford. Heather is excited that she scored a plum landscaping job, but the client’s husband is the meanest man in town, Vance Rockwell. What a jerk he is.  

Here’s a blurb about DIGGING FOR DEATH:

Garden center manager Heather Cameron is DIGGING FOR DEATH to prove her old family friend, mentor, and employee, Walter Sims, is innocent of murdering the meanest man in town. Heather can’t trust the police to find the real killer when all clues point to poor Walter. The dead man was beaten to death with Walter’s shovel several hours after they were overheard arguing, and the two men had a long history of enmity. Walter definitely looks guilty, but Heather is sure—well, almost positive—okay, she certainly hopes her friend and mentor is innocent.
  Heather is compelled to scour the fictional North Central Texas town of Gamble Grove to exonerate her old friend. She’s encouraged when the new police detective in town, Kurt Steele, shows interest in helping her look for clues. The deeper Heather digs into the dead man’s life, the more she justifies his ruthless reputation. Walter is indicted, but police begin to suspect the victim’s stepson as murderer. Heather is convinced the stepson couldn’t have murdered anyone either—although it’s clear no love was lost between the two men. The attempted murder of the victim’s real son creates a new twist. Can Heather solve the murder without becoming the killer’s next victim?

Here’s an excerpt:

Lining the Rockwell’s drive nearest the new garden plot were a fire engine, an ambulance, a van, what was probably an unmarked police car, two black and whites and—dang, wouldn't you know it?—the Gillentine Gardens truck. The muscles in my stomach were like vise grips clenched on my insides as I drove past the other vehicles and parked. Sickly dread overwhelmed me at what I might find.

I wanted to turn my car around and drive home and run up to my bed and pull the covers over my head. No such luxury for me. I climbed out of my car and strode quickly toward the crowd, swallowing down fear’s metallic taste in my mouth.

Container rose bushes destined for Bootsy Rockwell's garden almost filled the garden center’s staked-bed truck. Miguel Diaz sat on the truck’s bed with his feet dangling off the end. Steve Harris sat beside him. Bad vibes shot through me. A uniformed policeman and another man stood talking to Miguel. Miguel looked ashen and ill, but he nodded to me. Steve said nothing, merely hung his head.

"Hello, Heather." Miguel shook his head, despair evident in his sad brown eyes. "It's really bad."

"What's happened?"

The officer turned to me. "You know the whereabouts of Walter Sims?"

"He's supposed to be at the garden center. What's happened?" I repeated my question.

Steve looked up, but said nothing.

Miguel looked as if he were trying to send me some sort of signal. "Heather, it's—“

The man in plainclothes quieted Miguel with a glance as he stepped forward. Good heavens, what a giant. Must be six-four with shoulders broad as our truck. Even a long, tall Texas gal like myself had to look up to meet his gaze.

Whoa. What a gaze it was. Worried and puzzled as I was, I couldn’t fail to notice his eyes were delphinium blue and his dark hair the color of moist peat moss was cut short. He wasn’t GQ handsome, but definitely attractive.

"I take it you're Miss Cameron? I'm Detective Kurt Steele and this officer is Sergeant Jack Winston. We need to ask you a few questions."

"Not until I know what's happened. Why are you questioning Mr. Diaz and Mr. Harris?" Darn, stress must have fried my mind. I couldn’t believe I refused a detective.

"Vance Rockwell was murdered early this morning with Walter Sim’s shovel. We want to speak with Mr. Sims. No one here seems to know where he is.” He paused. “Do you?"

Rockwell dead and Walter missing? Panic rose with the bile in my throat.

No, please don’t let Walter be the killer.

At that moment, paramedics wheeled a gurney bearing a black body bag past the truck and loaded it into the ambulance. Oh Lord, Rockwell dead from Walter’s shovel? And Walter hated him.

Carole King was in my head, and the earth really did move. Dropping away from my feet, leaving me drifting. The sky tumbled down. Swirling, everything was swirling. Spiraling around me. I thought I might throw up or pass out—or both.

The detective stepped forward and grabbed my arm, anchoring me in the mixed up universe. "Miss Cameron? Maybe you should sit on the truck by Diaz and Harris."

But the sky still tumbled, the earth spiraled around me. I was a kid spinning until I was drunk with dizziness.  Sky flipped places with earth. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.

"Yes...Yes, I’d better." With Detective Steele's help, I staggered to the truck. I shrugged off his hand intent on levering myself onto the bed. But I stood there as if in a trance. The detective hoisted me up onto the truck s if I were a kid. I sat there wondering if I were going to pass out.

I felt Miguel’s hand at my neck. “Your head, put it between your knees.”

I did as he instructed, closing my eyes and taking a couple of deep breaths. When I straightened, my head was throbbing but the earth and sky had resumed their correct positions.  Sky above, earth below.
Willing my eyes to focus on the detective, I insisted, "Walter wouldn't bash in anyone's head." I prayed I spoke the truth.

Detective Steele referred to his notes. "It appears he and Mr. Rockwell had a heated argument yesterday about a quarter of five. Mr. Sims stalked to the truck—“he pointed at Steve”—where Harris waited, and peeled off."

Drat Walter, coming here when I’d ordered him to stay at the garden center. "If you consider anyone who argued with Rockwell a suspect, you'll be interviewing half the state." I almost included myself but thought better of it. "Besides, you said Walter left."

Sergeant Winston said, "Maybe he returned."

"Phffft." I peered at Detective Steele. "Sounds like you’re grasping at straws. What kind of detective work is that?"

Steele's clenched jaw displayed a small tic.

Oops, I shouldn’t have said that.

He stood directly in front of me and glared. "We just started the investigation. If we had some cooperation, maybe we could wrap this up in time to buy donuts before we take our lunch break."

Way to go, Heather. Not a good idea to annoy the police.

I took another deep breath. At this rate, I’d soon hyperventilate. “There’s no need for sarcasm. I don't know where Walter is, but I know he wouldn't kill anyone, not even Vance Rockwell."

He raised his eyebrows, making his nice blue eyes more noticeable, darn him. "Not even? What does that mean?"

"Rockwell was not a popular man. I imagine you'll find a long, long list of people with motives, detective. Leave Walter alone." I glanced at Miguel slumped beside me and patted his shoulder. "Leave all my employees alone. None of them would have done such a thing."

Detective Steele poised his pen over his notebook. "Where were you just after midnight, Miss Cameron?"

I thought again about his nice blue eyes, but pushed those thoughts aside because of his nasty question. "In my apartment. Asleep."

He raised one eyebrow.

I shot him a glare. "Alone."

"So, you have no alibi?"

"People who live alone never have an alibi. That doesn't mean they're guilty of anything more serious than drinking juice from the carton."

He pulled out a business card and handed it over. "We'll be in touch. Call me if you hear from Mr. Sims."

"Can Mr. Diaz and Mr. Harris go?"

Detective Steele nodded. Miguel and Steve slid off the truck bed to the ground, and Miguel helped me down. While they walked to the truck's cab, the detective speared me with another no-nonsense glare.

"If you hear from Walter Sims, you'll be doing him a favor if you convince him to call us. We need to talk to him, and the sooner the better."

I turned and walked back to my Honda. My heartbeat fluttered and my throat threatened to close so I couldn’t breathe. I was afraid I wouldn’t make it to the car, but I climbed in and turned the ignition.

Here’s the link:
http://www.amazon.com/DIGGING-Heather-Cameron-Mysteries-ebook/dp/B0086PAIDK/ref=sr_1_22?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1338736184&sr=1-22

The next book in the series is DIGGING FOR BONES, but it’s probably not going to be released until 2013. However, I do plan to release DIGGING FOR DEATH in print in the very near future.

And if you enjoy mysteries with a sheriff protagonist, you might also enjoy ALMOST HOME, a Link Dixon mystery.
http://www.amazon.com/Almost-Home-Dixon-Series-ebook/dp/B005J865J8/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1339192012&sr=1-1

Happy reading! Thanks for stopping by!

FORMATTING PROBLEMS CORRECTED ON DIGGING FOR DEATH! TODAY ON KINDLE!

Yesterday, the first day DIGGING FOR DEATH was free, Cassie kindly notified me my formatting was screwy. So sorry if you're one of the people who downloaded it! Now, the formatting has been corrected and it's ready to download and read for FREE.

Isn't free a wonderful word? And my cozy mystery, DIGGING FOR DEATH, is free today on Amazon! This is the first of the Heather Cameron mystery series. One thing I would very much appreciate is, if you like the book, please put a favorable review on Amazon. If you hate the book (how could you hate my baby?) then please keep it a secret except to email me why so I can perhaps correct any plot errors in the next book.

Heather
Cameron

The book’s protagonist is Heather Cameron, 28-years-old, who manages her family’s garden center and landscape firm. Her master’s degree from Texas A&M qualifies her to do a great job, but she feels compelled to prove herself to her grandparents. Heather’s parents died when she was eight, and her grandparents, Meg and Richard Gillentine, along with her great-grandmother, Elizabeth “Gigi” Gamble Gillentine, raised her. Helping Heather is her assistant manager, Miguel Diaz, and her shop manager and best friend, Chelsea Bedford. Heather is excited that she scored a plum landscaping job, but the cordial client’s husband is the meanest man in town, Vance Rockwell. What a jerk Rockwell is, and Heather isn't the only one in town who thinks so.

Here’s a blurb about DIGGING FOR DEATH:

Garden center manager Heather Cameron is DIGGING FOR DEATH to prove her old family friend, mentor, and employee, Walter Sims, is innocent of murdering the meanest man in town. Heather can’t trust the police to find the real killer when all clues point to poor Walter. The dead man was beaten to death with Walter’s shovel several hours after they were overheard arguing, and the two men had a long history of enmity. Walter definitely looks guilty, but Heather is sure—well, almost positive—okay, she certainly hopes her friend and mentor is innocent.
  Heather is compelled to scour the fictional North Central Texas town of Gamble Grove to exonerate her old friend. She’s encouraged when the new police detective in town, Kurt Steele, shows interest in helping, but Kurt warns her away from her own investigation. She doesn't believe the police will exonerate Walter without her assistance. The deeper Heather digs into the dead man’s life, the more she justifies his ruthless reputation. Can Heather solve the murder without becoming the killer’s next victim?

Here’s an excerpt:

Lining the Rockwell’s drive nearest the new garden plot were a fire engine, an ambulance, a van, what was probably an unmarked police car, two black and whites and—dang, wouldn't you know it?—the Gillentine Gardens truck. The muscles in my stomach were like vise grips clenched on my insides as I drove past the other vehicles and parked. Sickly dread overwhelmed me at what I might find.
I wanted to turn my car around and drive home and run up to my bed and pull the covers over my head. No such luxury for me. I climbed out of my car and strode quickly toward the crowd, swallowing down fear’s metallic taste in my mouth.

Container rose bushes destined for Bootsy Rockwell's garden almost filled the garden center’s staked-bed truck. Miguel Diaz sat on the truck’s bed with his feet dangling off the end. Steve Harris sat beside him. Bad vibes shot through me. A uniformed policeman and another man stood talking to Miguel. Miguel looked ashen and ill, but he nodded to me. Steve said nothing, merely hung his head.

"Hello, Heather." Miguel shook his head, despair evident in his sad brown eyes. "It's really bad."

"What's happened?"

The officer turned to me. "You know the whereabouts of Walter Sims?"

"He's supposed to be at the garden center. What's happened?" I repeated my question.

Steve looked up, but said nothing.

Miguel looked as if he were trying to send me some sort of signal. "Heather, it's—“

The man in plainclothes quieted Miguel with a glance as he stepped forward. Good heavens, what a giant. Must be six-four with shoulders broad as our truck. Even a long, tall Texas gal like myself had to look up to meet his gaze.

Whoa. What a gaze it was. Worried and puzzled as I was, I couldn’t fail to notice his eyes were delphinium blue and his dark hair the color of moist peat moss was cut short. He wasn’t GQ handsome, but definitely attractive.

"I take it you're Miss Cameron? I'm Detective Kurt Steele and this officer is Sergeant Jack Winston. We need to ask you a few questions."

"Not until I know what's happened. Why are you questioning Mr. Diaz and Mr. Harris?" Darn, stress must have fried my mind. I couldn’t believe I refused a detective.

"Vance Rockwell was murdered early this morning with a shovel owned by one of your employees. We want to speak with Walter Sims. No one here seems to know where Mr. Sims is.” He paused. “Do you?"

Rockwell dead and Walter missing? Panic rose with the bile in my throat.
No, please don’t let Walter be the killer.

At that moment, paramedics wheeled a gurney bearing a black body bag past the truck and loaded it into the ambulance. Oh Lord, Rockwell dead from Walter’s shovel? And Walter hated him.
Carole King was in my head, and the earth really did move. Dropping away from my feet, leaving me drifting. The sky tumbled down. Swirling, everything was swirling. Spiraling around me. I thought I might throw up or pass out—or both.

The detective stepped forward and grabbed my arm, anchoring me in the mixed up universe. "Miss Cameron? Maybe you should sit on the truck by Diaz and Harris."

But the sky still tumbled, the earth spiraled around me. I was a kid spinning until I was drunk with dizziness.  Sky flipped places with earth. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.

"Yes...Yes, I’d better." With Detective Steele's help, I staggered to the truck. I shrugged off his hand, intent on levering myself onto the bed. But I stood there as if in a trance.

The detective hoisted me up onto the truck as if I were a kid. I sat there wondering if I were going to pass out.

I felt Miguel’s hand at my neck. “Your head, put it between your knees.”

I did as he instructed, closing my eyes and taking a couple of deep breaths. When I straightened, my head was throbbing but the earth and sky had resumed their correct positions.  Sky above, earth below.
Willing my eyes to focus on the detective, I insisted, "Walter wouldn't bash in anyone's head." I prayed I spoke the truth.

Detective Steele referred to his notes. "It appears he and Mr. Rockwell had a heated argument yesterday about a quarter of five. Mr. Sims stalked to the truck—“he pointed at Steve”—where Harris waited, and peeled off."

Drat Walter, coming here when I’d ordered him to stay at the garden center. "If you consider anyone who argued with Rockwell a suspect, you'll be interviewing half the state." I almost included myself but thought better of it. "Besides, you said Walter left."

Sergeant Winston said, "Maybe he returned."

"Phffft." I peered at Detective Steele. "Sounds like you’re grasping at straws. What kind of detective work is that?"

Steele's clenched jaw displayed a small tic.

Oops, I shouldn’t have said that.

He stood directly in front of me and glared. "We just started the investigation. If we had some cooperation, maybe we could wrap this up in time to buy donuts before we take our lunch break."

Way to go, Heather. Not a good idea to annoy the police.

I took another deep breath. At this rate, I’d soon hyperventilate. “There’s no need for sarcasm. I don't know where Walter is, but I know he wouldn't kill anyone, not even Vance Rockwell."

He raised his eyebrows, making his nice blue eyes more noticeable, darn him. "Not even? What does that mean?"

"Rockwell was not a popular man. I imagine you'll find a long, long list of people with motives, detective. Leave Walter alone." I glanced at Miguel slumped beside me and patted his shoulder. "Leave all my employees alone. None of them would have done such a thing."

Detective Steele poised his pen over his notebook. "Where were you just after midnight, Miss Cameron?"

I thought again about his nice blue eyes, but pushed those thoughts aside because of his nasty question. "In my apartment. Asleep."

He raised one eyebrow.

I shot him a glare. "Alone."

"So, you have no alibi?"

"People who live alone never have an alibi. That doesn't mean they're guilty of anything more serious than drinking juice from the carton."

He pulled out a business card and handed it over. "We'll be in touch. Call me if you hear from Mr. Sims."

"Can Mr. Diaz and Mr. Harris go?"

Detective Steele nodded. Miguel and Steve slid off the truck bed to the ground, and Miguel helped me down.

While they walked to the truck's cab, the detective speared me with another no-nonsense glare.
"If you hear from Walter Sims, you'll be doing him a favor if you convince him to call us. We need to talk to him, and the sooner the better."

I turned and walked back to my Honda. My heartbeat fluttered and my throat threatened to close so I couldn’t breathe. I was afraid I wouldn’t make it to the car, but I climbed in and turned the ignition.

Here’s the link:
http://www.amazon.com/DIGGING-Heather-Cameron-Mysteries-ebook/dp/B0086PAIDK/ref=sr_1_22?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1338736184&sr=1-22

The next book in the series, DIGGING FOR BONES, is scheduled for early 2013 release.

Thanks for stopping by!

LAUNCHING MY NEW COZY MYSTERY SERIES!

Thanks for stopping by to help me celebrate the launch of my new Heather Cameron cozy mystery series, DIGGING FOR DEATH.  I am beyond excited that this book is now available for readers. While it’s only at Amazon Kindle for now, I’ll be releasing it in print as soon as possible. So, pour yourself your beverage of choice (alas, mine is a cup of hot tea) and join me while I tell you about Heather and her family.

Heather Cameron

Heather’s great-great grandparents helped found the town of Gamble Grove north of Dallas on Highway 75. Gamble Grove is only a real town in my imagination. It’s near where Van Alstyne and Anna are on the map. My dad was born nearby at Pilot Grove and my own maternal great grandparents were named Gamble, hence the name Gamble Grove. Like real towns in the area, Gamble Grove is rapidly growing and fighting to retain its small town charm as it copes with expansion.

Heather’s grandfather founded Gillentine Gardens and Landscape Design. In spite of the usual big box type stores that come with growth, customers are loyal to Gillentine Gardens. Heather, who majored in horticulture and landscape design at Texas A&M University, also holds a B.S. in business. She is a sharp young woman. The death of her parents when she was eight resulted in her being raised by her maternal grandparents and great grandmother. One of her mentors has been Walter Sims, who had been a good friend of her dad’s and worked for her grandfather. Now Grandpa Gillentine has retired and put Heather in charge of the business. Her best friend, Chelsea Bedford, works for Heather in the garden center shop. Heather's overall assistant manager is Miguel Diaz, a man so reliable and loyal that he receives a percentage of the year's profits.

Here’s the blurb for DIGGING FOR DEATH:

Garden center manager Heather Cameron is DIGGING FOR DEATH to prove her old family friend and employee, Walter Sims, is innocent of murdering the meanest man in town. Heather can’t trust the police to find the real killer when all clues point to poor Walter. The dead man was beaten to death with Walter’s shovel several hours after they were overheard arguing, and the two men had a long history of enmity. Walter definitely looks guilty, but Heather is sure—well, almost positive—okay, she certainly hopes her friend and mentor is innocent.
  Heather is compelled to scour the fictional North Central Texas town of Gamble Grove to exonerate her old friend. She’s encouraged when the new police detective in town, Kurt Steele, shows interest in helping her look for clues. Or, is Kurt just interested in spending time with Heather?
The deeper Heather digs into the dead man’s life, the more she justifies his ruthless reputation. Walter is indicted, but police begin to suspect the victim’s stepson as murderer. Heather is convinced the stepson couldn’t have murdered anyone either—although it’s clear no love was lost between the two men. The attempted murder of the victim’s real son creates a new twist. A chance observation at dinner after the reading of the murdered man’s will slips the last piece into the crime’s intricate puzzle. Can Heather solve the murder without becoming another victim? (Of course she can...it's her series!)

Do you like the cover?

Here’s an excerpt of DIGGING FOR DEATH:

     Lining the Rockwell’s drive nearest the new garden plot were a fire engine, an ambulance, a van, what was probably an unmarked police car, two black and whites and—dang, wouldn't you know it?—the Gillentine Gardens truck. The muscles in my stomach were like vise grips clenched on my insides as I drove past the other vehicles and parked. Sickly dread overwhelmed me at what I might find.
     I wanted to turn my car around and drive home and run up to my bed and pull the covers over my head. No such luxury for me. I climbed out of my car and strode quickly toward the crowd, swallowing down fear’s metallic taste in my mouth.
     Container rose bushes destined for Bootsy Rockwell's garden almost filled the garden center’s staked-bed truck. Miguel Diaz sat on the truck’s bed with his feet dangling off the end. Steve Harris sat beside him. Bad vibes shot through me. A uniformed policeman and another man stood talking to Miguel. Miguel looked ashen and ill, but he nodded to me. Steve said nothing, merely hung his head.
     "Hello, Heather." Miguel shook his head, despair evident in his sad brown eyes. "It's really bad."
     "What's happened?"
     The officer turned to me. "You know the whereabouts of Walter Sims?"
     "He's supposed to be at the garden center. What's happened?" I repeated my question.
     Steve looked up, but said nothing.
     Miguel looked as if he were trying to send me some sort of signal. "Heather, it's—“
     The man in plainclothes quieted Miguel with a glance as he stepped forward. Good heavens, what a giant. Must be six-four with shoulders broad as our truck. Even a long, tall Texas gal like myself had to look up to meet his gaze.
     Whoa. What a gaze it was. Worried and puzzled as I was, I couldn’t fail to notice his eyes were delphinium blue and his dark hair the color of moist peat moss was cut short. He wasn’t GQ handsome, but definitely attractive.
     "I take it you're Miss Cameron? I'm Detective Kurt Steele and this officer is Sergeant Jack Winston. We need to ask you a few questions."
     "Not until I know what's happened. Why are you questioning Mr. Diaz and Mr. Harris?" Darn, stress must have fried my mind. I couldn’t believe I refused a detective.
     "Vance Rockwell was murdered early this morning. We want to speak with Walter Sims. No one here seems to know where Mr. Sims is.” He paused. “Do you?"
     Rockwell dead and Walter missing? Panic rose with the bile in my throat.
     No, please don’t let Walter be the killer.
     At that moment, paramedics wheeled a gurney bearing a black body bag past the truck and loaded it into the ambulance. Oh Lord, Rockwell dead from Walter’s shovel? And Walter hated him.
     Carole King was in my head, and the earth really did move. Dropping away from my feet, leaving me drifting. The sky tumbled down. Swirling, everything was swirling. Spiraling around me. I thought I might throw up or pass out—or both.
     The detective stepped forward and grabbed my arm, anchoring me in the mixed up universe. "Miss Cameron? Maybe you should sit on the truck by Diaz and Harris."
     But the sky still tumbled, the earth spiraled around me. I was a kid spinning until I was drunk with dizziness.  Sky flipped places with earth. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.
"Yes...Yes, I’d better." With Detective Steele's help, I staggered to the truck. I shrugged off his hand intent on levering myself onto the bed. But I stood there as if in a trance.
     The detective hoisted me up onto the truck s if I were a kid. I sat there wondering if I were going to pass out.
     I felt Miguel’s hand at my neck. “Your head, put it between your knees.”
     I did as he instructed, closing my eyes and taking a couple of deep breaths. When I straightened, my head was throbbing but the earth and sky had resumed their correct positions.  Sky above, earth below.
     Willing my eyes to focus on the detective, I insisted, "Walter wouldn't bash in anyone's head." I prayed I spoke the truth.
     Detective Steele referred to his notes. "It appears he and Mr. Rockwell had a heated argument yesterday about a quarter of five. Mr. Sims stalked to the truck—“ he pointed at Steve ”—where Harris waited, and peeled off."
     Drat Walter, coming here when I’d ordered him to stay at the garden center. "If you consider anyone who argued with Rockwell a suspect, you'll be interviewing half the state." I almost included myself but thought better of it. "Besides, you said Walter left."
     Sergeant Winston said, "Maybe he returned."
     "Phffft." I peered at Detective Steele. "Sounds like you’re grasping at straws. What kind of detective work is that?"
     Steele's clenched jaw displayed a small tic.
     Oops, I shouldn’t have said that.
     He stood directly in front of me and glared. "We just started the investigation. If we had some cooperation, maybe we could wrap this up in time to buy donuts before we take our lunch break."
     Way to go, Heather. Not a good idea to annoy the police.
     I took another deep breath. At this rate, I’d soon hyperventilate. “There’s no need for sarcasm. I don't know where Walter is, but I know he wouldn't kill anyone, not even Vance Rockwell."
    He raised his eyebrows, making his nice blue eyes more noticeable, darn him. "Not even? What does that mean?"
     "Rockwell was not a popular man. I imagine you'll find a long, long list of people with motives, detective. Leave Walter alone." I glanced at Miguel slumped beside me and patted his shoulder. "Leave all my employees alone. None of them would have done such a thing."
     Detective Steele poised his pen over his notebook. "Where were you just after midnight, Miss Cameron?"
     I thought again about his nice blue eyes, but pushed those thoughts aside because of his nasty question. "In my apartment. Asleep."
     He raised one eyebrow.
     I shot him a glare. "Alone."
     "So, you have no alibi?"
     "People who live alone never have an alibi. That doesn't mean they're guilty of anything more serious than drinking juice from the carton."
     He pulled out a business card and handed it over. "We'll be in touch. Call me if you hear from Mr. Sims."
     "Can Mr. Diaz and Mr. Harris go?"
     Detective Steele nodded.
     Miguel and Steve slid off the truck bed to the ground, and Miguel helped me down.
     While they walked to the truck's cab, the detective speared me with another no-nonsense glare.
"If you hear from Walter Sims, you'll be doing him a favor if you convince him to call us. We need to talk to him, and the sooner the better."
     I turned and walked back to my Jetta. My heartbeat fluttered and my throat threatened to close so I couldn’t breathe. I was afraid I wouldn’t make it to the car, but I climbed in and turned the ignition.

I hope that excerpt tempted you to buy DIGGING FOR DEATH. It’s available from
Amazon Kindle at
http://www.amazon.com/DIGGING-Heather-Cameron-Mysteries-ebook/dp/B0086PAIDK/ref=sr_1_23?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1338171621&sr=1-23

Thanks for stopping by!