How Much Scary do You Like in a Story?

Romance novels typically have a heat level rating that may be named differently depending on which author, reader, or blogger you're talking to, but essentially mean the same thing. There's sweet (sweet kisses only, no sex on the page) and steamy (open door sex scenes). And a few others that are in-between and some that go beyond that.(These are the kind I stay away from.)

If we have such a rating for heat levels on books, why haven't we any rating on scary stuff? The only website I know that uses such ratings is My Book Cave, where authors who add their books to their site are required to list by rating how much violence and/or gore is portrayed. (Of course, there may be more, but I'm not aware of them.) As a reader, I appreciate knowing the level of "scary" that I should expect when I settle in to read a novel. For instance, I know that I can't read a Harry Potter or even a Love Inspired Suspense book at night or else I'll dream about them. But I can read a romantic story with a lower level of suspense at night and be just fine.

The other part of this equation is that fictional stories need to have some kind of outer conflict, along with the main character's inner struggle, in order to move the action along. And for romantic stories, the outer conflict needs to involve more than just a misunderstanding between the couple that could be fixed in chapter five if they just talked things out. So, in an effort to present an interesting love story while keeping the content sweet or clean, most romance authors incorporate suspenseful elements. Again, the level of suspense may vary from author to author, or even from book to book.

 

About a year ago, I wrote An Agent for Meg, as part of the Pinkerton Matchmaker series, which I based off of the real-life experience of female investigative reporter Nellie Bly. Reading about the time she spent in an insane asylum on Blackwell's Island just about broke my heart. What a brave woman. Her job was to pretend to be mentally ill so she could be thrown into the asylum. There, she was able to expose the horrendous conditions under which the residents were living. Poorly prepared, moldy food, having to put on wet clothing right after taking a cold bath, and not being allowed to speak to each other--well, you can probably see where these horrible rules led. Of course the residents would be deemed insane after being subjected to such atrocities! I have no doubt that I would, too.

As a fiction writer, it's difficult to describe such demoralizing conditions without bogging down the reader emotionally, so I chose to keep that aspect on the lighter side while adding a sinister matron who wanted another woman's husband for herself, so she connived with him and the director at the asylum to declare this woman insane and lock her inside. She eventually planned this woman's demise, and might have gotten away with it had not Pinkerton agents Carl and Meg Porter found the woman just in time. To make this book even more suspenseful, I also decided to add a subtle yet effective snippet from Edgar Allan Poe's poem, "The Raven." He, of course, is known as the king of horror in his day.

I, myself, have never been in an asylum before, but I have a vivid memory from my childhood of going on a school field trip to the county jail. (Why we went there, I have no clue. Why would any teacher choose that particular place as a positive learning experience?) Anyway, I remember walking past a cell and having the prisoner--a female--stick her hand out, and in my 8-year-old mind I imagined that she was calling out for someone to get her out of there. It was a scary experience.

As one reader said in a review, "[An Agent for Meg] has some anxious moments, and some very anxious moments". (Love that!) Another reviewer said, "That tree branch scraping on the window still has me on edge." So suffice it to say that this particular Pinkerton Matchmaker story is a little more intense than some of the others, including most of mine. But there are lighter moments, too, one of which gives a nod to another Meg in literature--from Little Women. And since Meg appeared in an earlier story (An Agent for Hallie) as a spoiled young lady, I had fun humbling her a bit. She and Carl had a few earlier run-ins that made their interactions in this story enjoyable to write. Yet he was very tender to her as he realized all the struggles she had gone through with her family and was going through in the difficult circumstances in which they'd been placed. If you haven't read this story yet, I hope you will give it a try, especially since Halloween is coming up and it's time to put your spook on!

Here is where you can find An Agent for Meg: https://amzn.to/2YKHy2m

Or, click on the cover to go to the product page.

Sandra Crowley, Romantic Suspense Author

Hi y’all, I usually don’t yak about myself, but I’ll make an exception for this post. Hopefully, you won’t regret it.

Many of you may already know I spent a good deal of my childhood moving with my family. The constant change of environments and schools--thirteen in twelve years--taught me “home” isn’t necessarily defined by a location or the length of time spent there; it can be a state of mind nurtured by those who love each other. I believe that conviction flavors the stories I write.

Instead of boring you with a list of places we lived, learning which I believe impacted me most and why might interest you more. We had always lived in town until we moved to Oregon. We still lived on a street lined side by side by side with houses, yet who could resist the outdoor pleasures of an area called Treasure Valley?  It was there I fell in love with mountains and the wildness that offered me peace at the same time it demanded strength of body and soul. Riding horses became an extension of that for me. I wish I’d had opportunities to explore the high country more often from the back of a quarter horse during those years. But, now, that latent regret encourages me to seize each opportunity to saddle up and follow a narrow trail through alpine grasses, tall trees, or strike across country with only a cold stream or maybe a craggy peak to guide me.   

Treks like that, where experience, faith and trust carry one along, are what love is all about.

The love I treasure with my husband of many years sets up Texas as the place with the greatest impact on my adult life because it’s my husband’s birthplace as well as that of our children. Who could ignore that? Certainly not me! Even though I was happy to leave the heat and explore new areas such as Alaska, Puerto Rico, and others in between. Our current home is a high valley along Colorado’s western slope--it may hold us or we may eventually look for new horizons.

You probably want to know how I started writing. When our children reached their teen years, I seized the time to pursue my own interests. A need to send characters along paths I thought essential to stories I was reading convinced me to take extension courses in creative writing. Through those, I learned about Romance Writers of America. I joined its Yellow Rose chapter, a local Texas organization for me at that time. I quickly realized my imagination suited romantic suspense, and I joined the specialty chapter Kiss of Death. Workshops, online classes, and conferences offered by those organizations and others raised my confidence. I began to enter contests and then volunteered as a judge. Both help me improve my craft and create characters driven to danger. I hope my stories of murder, betrayal and redemption produce that Ahhh factor readers desire.

My first book, Caughtby a Clown, has received several strong reviews. The story follows a spontaneous freelance journalist on a mission of mercy who finds herself entangled with a methodical undercover agent out to settle a score. The Wild Rose Press published Caught by a Clown in both paperback and ebook. (It's also available at other online book outlets.) This spicy romantic suspense novel leads off three linked stories I hope will be published in the near future. Check my blog site Driven 2 Danger and website frequently for news of their progress. 

You’ll find bits of my life, past and present, as well as other subjects that catch my attention at Driven 2 Danger www.driven2danger.blogspot.com in posts I loosely describe as Trivia Tuesdays.  Fridays are reserved for interviews of people willing to share unique experiences. D2D’s visitors have met a rancher/blacksmith/metal artist, a CSI agent, a breast cancer survivor, and others. Even though I’m still relishing my summer hiatus, please stop in and scroll through earlier writings. I hope you’ll discover the site is like chocolate, a treat you want to indulge in often. (Driven2Danger posts will resume this fall.)

Visit my website www.sandracrowley.com  to read a little about the shyness that plagued my childhood. I’m learning to overcome it. Networking and marketing hammers away at it on a daily basis. Who would have guessed that the solitary craft of writing could generate the daunting tasks that line me front and center of audiences both live and virtual? Yikes!! Talk about shivers and racing heartbeats! Publishers still handled publicity when I started writing. Fortunately, virtual appearances occur far more often than live ones. Nevertheless, requests for book signings and how-to or inspirational presentations are increasing. I keep telling myself that’s a good thing. I wish I believed it.

Thanks for spending time with me. If you have questions or comments, please contact me through my blog Driven 2 Danger or my website.

Looking for a HOT Summer Read?

Dear Sweethearts of the West readers,

I'm Sandra Crowley, author of a spicy romantic suspense, CAUGHT BY A CLOWN. If you're looking for a great read to relax with, one that will carry you across the country and introduce you to settings you might not have encountered before, CAUGHT BY A CLOWN, is the book for you. Amazon readers have given it two 5-Star reviews, and it garnered three 4-Star reviews from Sizzling Hot Book Reviews, The Romance Reviews and The Romance Studio.

If this bit of shameless promotion intrigues you, the blurb and two excerpts follow: 

Blurb:  A spontaneous freelance journalist on a mission of mercy finds herself entangled with a methodical undercover FBI agent out to settle a score. 

Stacie Monroe's spontaneity lands her in hot water again when her best friend's little brother disappears and Stacie trails him to a nudist resort. To get inside the exclusive oasis and convince him to return home, she must blend in, a move tailor made to shock her oh-so-proper family and renew efforts to bring her in line. 

That's exactly what Special Agent David Graham intends to do when she interferes in his case. Yet, the soft-hearted temptress challenges his resolve, revealing the path to a love he thought impossible. Will that love survive when he betrays her in order to unravel the final twist in his case and convict a vicious killer?

Excerpt 1: 

 

       The tissue box on her desk shifted. Stacie kept her gaze on the colorful page filling her screen while the tropical scent of sunscreen blended with the faint tang of a citrus and spice after-shave lotion. Oh no, another dangling dandy hung too close for comfort.

       A long, slow rasp warned her someone was easing a tissue upward. With a sideways glance, she spotted a man’s blunt, tanned fingers spreading the blue tissue to its widest, highest extent, yet leave it anchored in the box. This man cloaked in secrecy what others at the resort openly displayed. She assessed thick wrists and an athletic build that registered in her drool range. Stacie sat straighter and focused on his hands. No ring bound his finger. No pale circlet of skin betrayed the recent removal of one. Looking up, she saw a square jaw shadowed by dark blond stubble. Thick lashes fringed gray eyes. He wore his blond hair long and pulled back, the complete opposite to her riot of short black curls.

       “He can’t be David Graham. I am. Always have been.”

       Snapping back to reality, Stacie realized the new hero of her dreams thought her guess about Alan changing identity was wrong. She agreed with him. Seeing David Graham in the flesh, yummy hunky flesh, proved he looked nothing like Alan Walsh.

       “Why do you think he’s me?”

       “It doesn’t matter.” Concerned she’d upset a legitimate member, she introduced herself and offered a warm smile.

       “What does this Alan Walsh look like, Stacie?”

       A distinct tan line slashed low across the man’s abdomen, dividing sun-gilded skin from virgin white. A faint alarm sounded in her mind.

       “Maybe I’ve seen him and could point you in his direction.”

       His fidgeting hands and taut body mirrored her reaction to public exposure. Stacie relaxed. She would have signed in using a fake address and name if she’d come as a guest. He probably thought helping her would ease him into this new and daunting experience.

       “Alan has cinnamon brown hair. Styled, not cut. The hundred dollar appointment kind instead of the twelve dollar walk-in type.”

       Graham’s attention remained intent without a hint of reaction.

       “He’s five, maybe seven years younger that your...thirty-three?”

       Graham shifted his weight from one foot to the other, but he stayed silent.

       “Shorter by several inches than your...what...six-three or four...?”

       A tight smile pulled his firm lips. “Some people think I throw a long shadow.”

       She figured they should be more worried about the heavy muscles that slabbed his arms, shoulders, and chest. “Where you’re built like a weight-lifter, Alan’s a long distance runner.”

       “I know the type.”

       David Graham’s flat comment implied it fit Alan’s personality as neatly as it did his body. Goose bumps prickled Stacie’s arms for the second time that day.

       She looked at him without attraction fogging her senses. What was an intensely private man doing in a nudist resort? One possibility chilled her. Mick Caputo had sent him.

 

Excerpt 2 from later that night: 

     Stacie tapped one sandal-clad foot on the floor while Agent I'd-Rather-Scare-You-Than-Confide-In-You ignored her. She glanced toward the bathroom, crossed her legs, and wished she hadn't finished that last glass of wine.

     "Aren't you going to search that closet or open those two bottom drawers in the dresser?" she asked when he tucked his camera inside his pack.

     "Can't."

     A nasty suspicion raised its head. "Why not?"

     "Don't have a search warrant. That limits me to a visual inspection of what's in plain sight."

     "I won't tell," she pushed, despite being certain of his response.

     "There are laws."

     She groaned over the close match to a pronouncement she'd heard her whole life. There are rules.

     Boring. Snoring. Gone. Think of something else.

     Like how Agent By-The-Book caused this mess. If he'd mentioned being from the FBI when they met in the office none of this would have happened. He ignored her interest in Alan Walsh and her intelligence in favor of treating her as if she were a child in need of a lesson.

     Nature threatened to float her teeth, but Stacie refused to ask for relief. She fidgeted on the hard chair and crossed her legs the other way. The backs of her thighs pulled where her skin had stuck to the wooden seat. That twinge of pain reminded her she ought to be thrilled Graham claimed a badge and not a rap sheet. Instead, she rattled the handcuffs that shackled her to the chair and worried how far he meant to carry her arrest.

Find out how far David carries Stacie's arrest and learn who's CAUGHT BY A CLOWN.

BUY paperback at TWRP or Amazon

BUY Ebook (all formats) at TWRP, DigiBooks Café  and

Bookstrand  or Amazon Kindle

YouTube trailer.

www.sandracrowley.com
www.driven2danger.blogspot.com
Amazon Author page
Sandra's Facebook page
Caught by a Clown's Facebook page

I appreciate your consideration. Thank you and have a wonderful summer!!!

Sandra Crowley

Tin Cup, Colorado - Mining Gold on Several Levels

It’s been several years since my husband and I have been up to Tin Cup. The old mining town in Colorado’s Rocky Mountain lies above Gunnison at 10,157 feet elevation. Some of the poor pictures I took way back in October of 1991 are shown here. If we manage the excursion later this summer, I’ll compose better shots--a repost would be worthwhile, at least in my unbiased opinion. LOL

Big Horn Sheep above Gunnison near Taylor Park Resevoir

I learned about the town through my husband, who hunted the area with his brother, father, and friends from the 1950s through the 1990s. The first time my husband took me, I fell in love with the town, its history, and its unique cemetery.

The last time we visited, Tin Cup sported a couple businesses. The most notable was Frenchy’s which is a restaurant housed in an old log cabin I’m sure boasts of a colorful, if not dramatic past as the most famous of the town’s early saloons. Today’s Frenchy’s is said to serve up a delicious burger. I wish I could verify that. Unfortunately, a closed sign has always been prominently displayed whenever we drove past.

Research sources often claim Tin Cup is a ghost town. However, the real truth is that those few hardy year round residents and the additional summer occupants who desire the peace and quiet that blanket the high country have cleverly refurbished original log cabins so it appears nothing has changed in 150 years.
 

Capt. Zebulon Pike

Captain Zebulon Pike reached the general area in late December 1806 during an exploration of territory acquired by the United States in the Louisiana Purchase. (Christmas In The Old West - Sweetheart post December 18, 2010) But, it wasn’t until the late 1850’s that this picturesque valley was settled by white men, disheartened prospectors who hadn’t realized their dreams of riches in California’s gold fields and who paused for rest on their long trips back east. The story goes that in October 1859, one such young man, James Taylor, an 18 year old from Georgia, took a sip of water from Willow Creek and discovered gold in the bottom of his tin cup. He promptly dubbed the area Tin Cup Gulch. Obviously, Jim was neither creative nor romantic. Other versions of this story time the incident in 1861 and/or add two friends with Jim. I also found reports that attributed the town’s name, not to a profitable sip from a tin cup, but to the tin cup being used as a storage vessel for a lucky prospector’s poke of gold dust while he headed out of the valley to parts unknown.

Although it may never be absolutely certain which version inspired the name, Tin Cup Gulch seemed to remain unknown by most until the 1870’s. Strikes of high grade gold and silver in 1878 drew adventurous souls to the area and the town of Virginia City was born in March 1879. The following year, Virginia City census counted 1,495 inhabitants. Maybe the growth spurt started the trouble, maybe something else, but, whatever it was, Virginia City’s citizens found their hometown increasingly confused with Virginia City, Nevada and Virginia City, Montana. I, for one, am glad they officially changed the town’s name in July 1882 to simply Tin Cup, minus James Taylor’s descriptive “Gulch” attached.

Tin Cup boasted of a population of 6000 in 1882, a number that easily supported the 20+ saloons in town and made it lucrative for some entrepreneurs to ski or snowshoe out for supplies and then unload their bounty to the highest bidders upon return. Declared one of the top three of Colorado’s wildest, unruliest mining towns, Tin Cup quickly found itself taken over by an underworld of cutthroat gamblers. The gang hired and controlled local law enforcement to their benefit, for unsuspecting visitors and settlers were lured by the façade of law and order. It was only after being fleeced of their money and/or valuables that the victims wised up and left--if they were alive to do so. This dismal history wore on the upstanding men hired as fronts. Colorado’s Historical Society states the first one quit, the second was fired, the third was gunned down, the fourth was shot by a gambler, the fifth quit and became a preacher, the sixth went insane, and the seventh was shot.

Which brings us to my favorite part: Tin Cup’s cemetery. It’s divided into four parts.

Protestant Knoll lies to the north. Jewish Knoll sleeps to the east.

Catholic Knoll occupies the center. Boot Hill Knoll to the west still sports a few intriguing markers.












The epitaph on Black Jack Cameron’s grave, located in the southeast corner, reads “He drew 5 aces.” Another is marked Pass Out/Dance Hall Girl. How can you not wonder, “What if...?”

Tin Cup’s eighth marshall miraculously finished his term. I’m unaware of the exact timing of the town’s string of men of the law. However, I suspect the eighth’s luck held because of Tin Cup’s decline to around 400 citizens as mines played out about 1884. The shrinking town clung to life though, installing fire hydrants in 1891, a few of which remain. The local post office closed in 1918.

Sandra Crowley

CAUGHT BY A CLOWN, a spicy romantic suspense about a spontaneous freelance journalist on a mission of mercy who finds herself entangled with a methodical undercover agent out to settle a score.

BUY paperback at The Wild Rose Press or Amazon

BUY ebook at The Wild Rose Press , Amazon or DigiBooksCafe

www.sandracrowley.com     

A Letter between Families following the War of Northern Aggression - Shared by Sandra Crowley

You may or may not know by now this is the 150^th anniversary of the War Between the States. I am taking this opportunity to share a bit of Crowley family history, my husband’s family history, or at least a 50/50 chance of it. LOL   

But first, bear with me while I relate my first impressions of Texas and its Confederate pride. I was about ten when my folks took me to Texas to visit relatives. I was struck by the prominent monuments to Confederate Soldiers erected in nearly every town square we drove through and surprised that feelings still ran deep, even in the 1960’s.

I met my soon-to-be-husband in the early 70’s. His folks' comments that their son was dating a Yankee astonished me. I’d never thought of myself as a Yankee; I’d never felt personally connected to either side of a war fought almost 100 years before I was born. Happy to say, my Yankeeness didn’t prevent my soon-to-be-inlaws from accepting me wholeheartedly, and we’ve grown to love and respect each other as if I’d always been a Crowley.

My husband’s cousin, Alta, compiled the family history years ago, a daunting task. Unfortunately, copiers weren't as precise then so I'm unable to provide Crowley pictures suitable for this post. I can share a picture or two taken from a different branch of my family that should represent the same or similar situation.

As in my own considerable family history, first names are repeated within and without lines which makes it hard to follow without error. So, I preface the letter below with this cautionary statement: E. P. Crowley lived somewhere within my husband’s past.

Elijah Prince Crowley was born in Tennessee on April 11 1818. He died in Texas March 6 1879. Elijah was the son of Isham Crowley a resident of Tarrant County, Texas in 1866. Isham received this letter from his daughter-in-law Louisa Jane following the War of Northern Aggression:

Elijah and Louisa might have lived in something like this.

Greenville, Clay County, Mo. 2 August 1866

Dear Mother and Father, Brothers and Sisters:

I once more embrace this opportunity of writing to you to let you know that we are on the land among the living and our health is tolerable good at this time except myself. I am just getting over a spell of sickness. I was confined to bed three weeks. My heart is not good but I do hope that when these lines reach you they will find you all well and doing well for it has been a long time since we have had the pleasure of writing to each other.

We have seen and felt a great many hard trials since this most cruel and unholy war commenced. Doubtless you have heard that my dear and lovely boy Dock, as we always called him, was murdered shortly after he came back to Missouri by a pack of those thieves and murderers called Feds. For that was their business whenever they thought they had the chance.

He came home on Tuesday night the 28 March 1865 which was very unexpected to us for we told him if he ever got to Texas to stay there until the war ended, but I expect he wanted to see us and know what had become of us again. He was at home three times, Tuesday night, Thursday night and Friday night. He went to try to get away, for the Feds was after them and had killed two of the young horses that day. On Saturday night he and James Charley was taken prisoner as they was going though Smithville. They kept them there till late Sunday evening. They told them they was going to take them to Ridgely and try them. They went about a mile and a half, took them out in the woods and shot them and left them laying there. An old man heard their groans and went next morning to hunt them and found them and made his two little boys bury them.

We heard that they were killed we got a Union man to go and find about it. We then had a coffin made and sent for him and brought him home on Friday and buried him at Bethel Church on Saturday the first day of April and I do hope and pray that he is better off then his murderers ever will be and if they do not meet with justice in this world, they will be sure to in the world to come.

I have his tintype that is dear to me. He had it taken and gave it to me before he left home. We also got the little gray mare that he left home on. Perhaps you have heard him speak of her. He called her Kate. We all think a great deal of her. We would not part with her for no mention on his account. He told us he was with you all and how kind and good you was to him. I hope the Lord will bless every one that was good and kind to him while he was gone. He professed religion several years ago and joined the Methodist Church. I hope he had not forgotten it. He was a good and kind boy to us all and beloved by all.

          The rest of Louisa Jane’s letter concerns the general health and doings of the family. Here I’ll skip to Elijah’s comments which pertain to the war:

The Crowleys might have lived/looked similar to this family (picture taken 1893).

This war has been wretched on us. We have lost a great deal by it. We greatly feel the need of what we have lost. Taxes is about to break us up. They have been very high for several years, but double this year to last year. Times are rather unsettled here. Every few days some are killed. The policy of our State is very bad. The radicals has the rule. We look for bad times at the next election, but people are determined to change policy. There is a large majority of Johnson men in this State that can vote. Our county has but few radicals. In upwards of one thousand in favor of Johnson’s reconstruction policy.

I will give you a short history of the times. Money is a little scarcer than it has been. Property high. Good horses two hundred dollars, mules about the same, milk cows from 35 to 75 dollars, year old steers 50, two year old 20 to 35, hogs from 8 to 10 cents gross per pound. Hemp about 12 dollars per hundred.

We greatly mourn the loss of our dear brother, Hiram, but we hope his is where all the angels of heaven is rejoicing. Tell his companions weep not for him for he died in a good cause, but trust in God and persevere in Holiness.

***

Thanks to Alta's research, we know Hiram joined Grapevine’s Mounted Riflemen. He was a captain in Company A of Alexander’s Regiment CSA. Hiram died at the Battle of Yellow Bayou, Louisanna 1865.

A published list of Confederate soldiers killed in Missouri lists Benjamin Franklin Crowley (aka Dock) as killed at Smithville.

I'm fascinated by family history. My side is extensively documented, also arriving from England as well as Ireland and Europe and settling in northern states--another side to this story. It's the Crowley's who came to this country before the American Revolution, fighting for freedom in that war, then settling in southern states and contributing its men to other fights for the growing land.

Thanks for stopping by. I'll try to answers any questions you might ask.

Sandra Crowley

CAUGHT BY A CLOWN, a spontaneous freelance journalist on a mission of mercy finds herself entangled with a methodical undercover FBI agent out to settle a score.
This spicy romantic suspense novel is available in e-book and print at The Wild Rose Press and Amazon.

A NEW RELEASE --- CAUGHT BY A CLOWN by Sandra Crowley

Hi all. Today celebrates the official birth of my writing career. My second birthday, so to speak, because of the time and effort invested. I hope you share my excitement by the time you finish this post. Commentors who mention the figure at the end of the book trailer will be placed in a drawing for a free PDF file of Caught by a Clown. 

CAUGHT BY A CLOWN, a spicy romantic suspense, will warm you and thrill you from its opening at a nudist resort in Arizona, to its race to a Texas horse track, and its tumble into the Florida clown school.

The idea for this story came to me a number of years ago. However, the complexity of the shootout I imagined and its unique setting in a nudist resort convinced me I didn't possess the necessary writing skills at that time. I saved the memory, studied, practiced, and finally re-created it on "paper." The shootout changed location and results, but I'm proud of it. I'm proud of the entire story. 

Here's why:

A spontaneous freelance journalist on a mission of mercy finds herself entangled with a methodical undercover FBI agent who's out to settle a score.

These two people approach life from opposing directions and yet they need each other.

Stacie Monroe's spontaneity lands her in hot water again when her best friend's little brother disappears and Stacie trails him to a nudist resort. To get inside the exclusive oasis and convince him to return home, she must blend in, a move tailor made to shock her oh-so-proper family and renew efforts to bring her in line.

That's exactly what Special Agent David Graham intends to do when she interferes in his case. Yet, the soft-hearted temptress challenges his resolve, revealing the path to a love he thought impossible. Will that love survive when he betrays her in order to unravel the final twist in his case and convict a vicious killer?

Writing Stacie and David's story was more adventure than work. My critique partner, Caroline Clemmons, might not agree. lol Her expert advice and patience taught me the majority of the skills I needed to develop these characters to their publishable level. I'm eternally grateful to her. And, to Stacie's indomitable spirit, David's intrepid honesty. 

Here's a sample:
     

     Stacie tapped one sandal-clad foot on the floor while Agent I'd-Rather-Scare-You-Than-Confide-In-You ignored her. She glanced toward the bathroom, crossed her legs, and wished she hadn't finished that last glass of wine.

     "Aren't you going to search that closet or open those two bottom drawers in the dresser?" she asked when he tucked his camera inside his pack.

     "Can't."

     A nasty suspicion raised its head. "Why not?"

     "Don't have a search warrant. That limits me to a visual inspection of what's in plain sight."

     "I won't tell," she pushed, despite being certain of his response.

     "There are laws."

     She groaned over the close match to a pronouncement she'd heard her whole life. There are rules.

     Boring. Snoring. Gone. Think of something else.

     Like how Agent By-The-Book caused this mess. If he'd mentioned being from the FBI when they met in the office none of this would have happened. He ignored her interest in Alan Walsh and her intelligence in favor of treating her as if she were a child in need of a lesson.

     Nature threatened to float her teeth, but Stacie refused to ask for relief. She fidgeted on the hard chair and crossed her legs the other way. The backs of her thighs pulled where her skin had stuck to the wooden seat. That twinge of pain reminded her she ought to be thrilled Graham claimed a badge and not a rap sheet. Instead, she rattled the handcuffs that shackled her to the chair and worried how far he meant to carry her arrest.

CLICK HERE to buy an ebook or paperback of CAUGHT BY A CLOWN. Find out how far David carries Stacie's arrest and discover who's CAUGHT BY A CLOWN.

Visit my website to request an autograph.  

Thank you for stopping by. Remember to comment about the figure at the end of the trailer for a chance at a free PDF file of Caught by a Clown. The WINNER will be announced Tuesday afternoon.

THE WINNER IS JOY HELD OF WRITER WELLNESS. CONGRATULATIONS, JOY. THANK YOU FOR PARTICIPATING.

I hope you'll join me at Author Roast and Toast on February 4th for fun and food under the Big Top. It should be an awesome party!

I appreciate your consideration,
Sandra Crowley
http://www.sandracrowley.com/
http://www.driven2danger.blogspot.com/
www.facebook.com/sandra.crowley2

What Are The Odds?

Hi y’all. Like the other Sweetheart writers you’ve met, I’m thrilled to be a member of this extraordinary group. I write contemporary romantic suspense set in some of the western states where I’ve lived. If you’ve visited my website www.sandracrowley.com or my blog www.driven2danger.blogspot.com , you know my husband, kids and grandkids are 5+ generation Texans and understand why Texas has received the lion’s share of settings in the books I’ve written so far. However, that doesn’t lessen my love for my current home--Colorado’s mountains. Their peace and beauty feed my soul and creativity. So, you can see why deciding what to post first was a struggle until a chance meeting at a fall celebration neatly entwined Colorado and Texas as they are in my life.

Grand Mesa lies between the Colorado
and Gunnison Rivers east of Grand
Junction, Colorado.

Colorado promotes Grand Mesa as the world’s largest flat top mountain. However, it isn’t flat like a table. Its uneven surface resembles the bumps and dips of a giant cinnamon roll. Every year as nighttime temperatures drop at higher elevations, the aspens’ fall leaf color flows downward as if the yellow already prevalent on top were melted butter spilling over Grand Mesa’s edges. Gullies brighten first to create fingers of yellow and gold, and then the earthbound sunshine spreads across the slopes and onto ridges. Each dawn reveals fresh progress that highlights the sunrise with the promise of another glorious day. 



Raber Cow Camp, built in the 1930's, is now an Historic Site.



These are the days when local ranchers transport their cattle herds to lower fields, leaving behind rich mountain meadows via the trails, OHV roads, and CO HWY 65 unavailable to the cattle operations of the  1930s and 40s when stock was driven down the west side of the mesa at Kannah Creek and over to a valley railroad connection.

Highway 65 provides a smooth, curving drive up from the valley floor for thousands of visitors on Color Sunday--Grand Mesa’s fall foliage celebration. Hosted the 4^th Sunday in September every year, this event is the major fund raising opportunity for communities and attractions situated along the road. Mesa, a small town on the north side of Grand Mesa, has continuously sponsored a dinner since the 1940’s when the women of the Methodist Church cooked the food in their homes. Now, the 4-H heads the fundraiser with the help of Job Corp and local residents. This year, they served the largest number of attendees for a total of 810 meals. My husband and I stopped at Mesa’s community center and filled our plates with turkey and all the trimmings. We had no sooner stuffed our mouths with bites of tender, juicy white meat than an elderly couple sat beside us. A few pleasantries later, the gentleman mentioned they retired in Cedaredge, on the south side of the mesa, after having lived in Bartonville, Texas. Back in 1970, my first boyfriend lived in Bartonville; I lived in Argyle. The towns were situated about 7 miles apart and were the size Mesa is now. 

Available January



What are the odds that after almost 40 years and dozens of homes in numerous places, my husband and I take a day trip and meet a lovely couple at a turkey dinner who were from my first boyfriend’s hometown in Texas, over 1000 miles away? The only thing more bizarre would have been running into him, or getting caught up in a situation like the characters in my romantic suspense novel which will be released in January. In CAUGHT BY A CLOWN, a spontaneous freelance journalist on a mission of mercy finds herself entangled with a methodical undercover agent out to settle a score.

I hope you’ll stop into Sweethearts of the West often--you’ll find us and our books fun, exciting, sweet, passionate, informative and, maybe, addictive.