Northern Hearts (Heroes of the Tundra Book 2) is my Christmas novella set in the real-life town of Churchill, Manitoba, Canada. It’s called the Polar Bear Capitol of the World. I set my entire series there, and my husband and I flew up in 2019 so that I could do proper research on the town and its polar bear research facilities.

I set this story during the Christmas in between Northern Deception (Book 1) and Northern Protector (Book 3). The inspiration for the story came to me out of the blue—I love it when my brain and creativity strikes like that—because I was thinking about family situations and secrets.

I had the vision of a rich young woman with every advantage she could have in her life, but still yearning for more. And her family held a long, dark secret in the past. She’s about to find out about a family member she had never known existed before, and how that person had been following her life from afar.

The hero is the opposite. He’s grown up without a proper family in the foster care system and the unknown family member of the heroine has been a stand-in mother figure for him. When the hero and heroine meet and are forced to work together for thirty days to meet the legal requirements of the family member’s will, they have to examine what their relationships mean to them and learn to work together.

Being a romance, they will fall in love, but I include some real-life festivities that take place in Churchill, and some traditions that I wish I’d done myself over the years. I believe that family traditions keep memories alive and serve the purpose of keeping families intact, especially when children are young and growing up. Once they’re grown up, some traditions need to change to facilitate the changes in the family make-up, for example, adult children marrying and the “family” enlarging.

Like the Sabbath being made for man, not man for the Sabbath, as Jesus taught us, I think that family traditions like every person being present at Christmas dinner when that may not be feasible, need to be looked at in the light of love and common sense. Christmas dinners may need to be done rotationally. Traditions may need to grow and change as the years go by.

That doesn’t mean that our Christmas excitement and celebrations of our one true King shouldn’t take place or be enjoyed. They just may look different from year to year, and that’s all right. The true meaning of Christmas is that Jesus is the Light of the World and our Saviour. I wish you all a blessed Christmas!

Here is a quick excerpt from Chapter 1 of NORTHERN HEARTS:

Wild and dangerous and the town has nothing of significance…

With that ringing in her ears, she grabbed her soft-sided hot pink suitcase and hauled it upright beside her. The clock read 9:45 a.m., so she was right on time. Her ride should be here any minute. Gazing around the tiny, one-room airport, she noticed a twelve-foot-high polar bear skin hung spread out in a wooden display case. The sheer height and width of it gave her pause.

“It’s nothing but snow, ice, and polar bears,” her dad had said. She rolled her luggage over to the huge case and checked out the five-inch claws on the paws of the polar bear skin. Its teeth were three inches, at least, bared permanently in a snarl. The entire fur from side to side had to be four feet wide.

She drew in a breath to calm her nerves and turned to read the huge blue and white sign on the wall.

“Welcome to Churchill, Manitoba–Polar Bear Country,” it read.

“NEVER–

Go beyond a polar bear alert warning sign

Approach or feed a bear for any reason

Walk at night after 10 p.m.

“Always be alert and aware of your surroundings,” said a deep voice from behind her left shoulder.

Adrenaline rippled through her veins. Kali gasped and jumped. “Excuse me?”

“Sorry.” The man who’d spoken loomed over her. His fur-lined green parka hood, which he shoved back out of the way, framed his brown hair and beard scruff. His brown, almost black, eyes didn’t look the least bit sorry. His thick, longish hair poked up in an unruly fashion and curled around his ears. He grinned, showing white, even teeth she couldn’t help but stare at for a second. Handsome. Unbelievably handsome.

“Sorry, that’s the next line on the sign—you are reading the sign, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I mean, I was… I just…” Kali stopped. Get a hold of yourself! You’re babbling.

“The most important thing to remember is that bears can be in town at any time of day or night,” he quoted from the sign. “I’m assuming you’re Miss Kali McIntyre?”

She drew herself up to her entire 5’ 1” height. “You can drop the Miss. And yes, I’m Kali McIntyre.” If this guy was her ride, she’d just hit the lottery.

He drew off his enormous fur-trimmed gauntlet and thrust his right-hand forwards to shake her hand. “Excellent. I’m Jake Miller, from The Great Northern Lodge.”

©Laurie Wood 2019

If you visit my website at https://www.lauriewoodauthor.com and sign up for my newsletter, you’ll receive a gift. Thank you for being with me today.

You can buy Northern Hearts here: https://amzn.to/33CFJeE

Northern Redemption (Heroes of the Tundra Book 4) will come out in 2023.

The post Christmas Blog Tour – Hello from Churchill Manitoba Canada appeared first on Laurie Wood Author.

Today’s interview is with mystery author Karen Abrahamson from our Sisters in Crime – Canada West Chapter. Karen is the author of the police procedural Detective Kazakov Mysteries and the amateur sleuth Phoebe Clay Mysteries, She also writes fantasy and romance novels. Her latest short fiction can be found in the anthology ‘Moonlight and Misadventure‘, and in upcoming issues of Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine and Black Cat Mystery Magazine.’ When she isn’t writing she can be found with a camera and backpack in fabulous locations around the world.

Karen’s work has been described by national bestselling author, M.L. Buchman, as having “connection to culture and … powerful characters (that) make an incredible story.”

So, welcome to the blog Karen! And please tell us a little bit more about yourself.

I’ve been writing creatively ever since I can remember. It started with poetry as a child of seven or eight and continued with dabbling in short stories. I began to seriously pursue my writing about twenty years ago when I quit my job and ran away to Thailand for six months. No, I wasn’t lying on a beach, I was working over there, but it was as if I’d finally been released from prison—which is funny given I spent years working in corrections, policing and counselling. I’ve lived all across Canada and the US, but I now call the Sunshine Coast of Canada home. I live with two very naughty Bengal cats and enjoy photography, reading and hiking when I’m not writing. I am also addicted to travel.

Can you give us a brief description of your recent release?

In BENEATH MALABAR NETS, teacher Phoebe Clay travels to southern India on vacation with her sister Becca and niece Alice. When their tour guide turns up dead in one of southern India’s famous fishing nets, Becca becomes the police’s prime suspect. In a country of strangers Phoebe must find the real killer in order to protect her family, but conducting her investigation could cost her dearly.

Were there any surprises that came up as you wrote your story?

Actually, yes. There have been in each of the books in this series and, now that I think of it, in most of my mysteries. I wrote into the mist with this book (pantser here), and was very surprised to realize who the killer was. That happened in the first book, Through Dark Water, as well and I had the same ‘really????’ moment with the third book that is currently in copy editing. I’ve just started book four in the series and I’m hoping the writing gods will let lightning strike again, because I figure if the resolution surprises me, it will the reader as well.

Who was your favorite character to create?

I really like Alice, Phoebe’s niece. I love Phoebe, too, for all her mental health issues (she survived a school shooting and has PTSD), but Alice is a really neat teenager with a super relationship with her aunt. I like to play with their dialogue and Alice’s attitudes. She’s really a great kid.

Are you part of a writing group?

Not anymore. I was a long time ago and those people are still dear to me, but I’ve found that over time you identify people who are your writerly kindred souls. Those are the people who you might not see for years, but you KNOW if you ask them for feedback, they will give it honestly and lovingly. When you get it, I’ve found I sometimes have to think hard before NOT taking their advice. So I have a few trusted readers, with one very dear writer friend who I regularly call on and a few others that I know I can call on if needed. I need to send them all boxes of chocolates!

A writers group is a great way to develop accountability to get your writing done and to identify people whose writing you respect and admire who might become first readers for you, but a writers group can also place structures around your writing that might not be helpful. I’m at the point now where I love to get up and write, so I don’t need to be accountable to someone else.

Who was the first person you allowed to read your completed book?

My trusted first reader. She reads pretty much everything I write (sometimes twice, the poor dear!) and I really don’t know what I’d do without her. She captures things like character motivation issues and honestly tells me when she wants to throw the manuscript across the room. We’ve done this for each other for years so that I can tell by her level of snark, just what kind of day she’s been having and when she needs time off from being first reader!

Do you have a favorite author or book?

I really love the Inspector Gamache books by Louise Penny. What I wouldn’t do to write like her! I also loved The Historian, by Elizabeth Kostova (sort of a mystery with Dracula overtones)and I find myself being drawn to anything by Wade Davis who is a fascinating author of non-fiction about nature and culture.

Are you a night owl or morning person?

I am a confirmed morning person. I’m usually awake voluntarily at 5 am. Of course, that could be because my cats trained me, but I do prefer the quiet of the morning and that’s when I write. I like to sit and watch the sunrise while I do. Nights I’m pretty much done in by 9 or 10. I’d say my party animal days are over, except getting in with a group of writers with a bottle of good wine can keep me up far past my usual bedtime.

What’s next for you as an author?

As I mentioned, I am working on book 4 of the Phoebe Clay mysteries featuring an ex-school teacher turned traveler and amateur sleuth.  I also have a paranormal romance in the works and a mystery fantasy set in historic Burma that I want to write to complete a series of novellas. I’m also writing short fiction.

Here’s the back cover blurb of BENEATH MALABAR NETS:

A COURAGOUS AMATEUR SLEUTH MUST CATCH A RUTHLESS MURDERER BEFORE HER FAMILY BECOMES VICTIM OF A DEADLY PLOT.

Kochi, India: a sleepy, historic city on India’s Arabian Sea coast, famous for its spices, its harbor and for the huge, picturesque, fishing nets that dip fish from the sea. The heat, the history and the climate lure backpackers and tourists from all over the globe, as well as photographers seeking a perfect shot of the sunset behind the nets.

Still recovering from a school shooting, retired school teacher Phoebe Clay comes to Kochi with her sister, Becca, and niece, Alice. Together, they work to put Phoebe’s trauma behind them. But when their tour guide turns up dead in one of the Chinese nets and the police suspect Becca—Phoebe can’t sit idly by and hope for the best.

To clear her sister, Phoebe must brave the corrupt practices and hostility of a country she doesn’t understand to stop a black market operation the world has forgotten about.

But not knowing your enemies comes at a cost. To protect her family Phoebe may have to pay the ultimate price.

Readers who enjoy vivid setting and strong female characters will love Phoebe Clay’s adventures.

Don’t miss out on Beneath Malabar Nets, the second novel in the Phoebe Clay mystery series.

Here is the gorgeous cover of BENEATH MALABAR NETS as well as an excerpt:

This scene takes place when Phoebe knows her sister, Becca, is a key police suspect. She has gone out to retrace Becca’s footsteps to try to find witnesses who will support Becca’s innocence and has discovered a group of men camped by a parking lot near where the body was found.

“She didn’t have a choice. She sat down on the low barrier and swung her legs over, then dropped down to the ground. It was lower here than in the parking lot. She followed him to an area where the ground had been swept clean of leaves. Five benches huddled together near the base of the tree. He settled himself on one and motioned her to another, but she stopped at a stirring in the shadows at the base of the tall wall. She blinked and realized that what she’d thought was a pile of garbage blown against the wall was actually a person sleeping. No, make that three—four—no—six other people sleeping.

Or perhaps not. She felt gazes on her, but none of the people shifted from their spots along the wall. Swallowing back her disquiet, she settled on a bench across from him and then wished she hadn’t, for the parking lot loomed wide and dangerous behind her and she could not see any danger approaching.

She pushed the fear away, though she knew her hands trembled. She held on to the tops of her thighs to hide it from this man’s too seeing eyes.

“My name is Phoebe Clay. Two nights ago my sister walked this way with a man. They were arguing. In the parking lot there,” she nodded at the lot behind her. “My sister slapped him and pushed him and then turned and walked away. The next morning the man was found dead in one of the Chinese fishing nets and now the police think my sister may have killed him. Where you here that night? If so, did you see anything? Anyone else?”

The man reached into a pocket and pulled out a cigarette. He lit it with a match, but pocketed the match rather than drop it on the ground. Drawing in a long inhale, he then exhaled a cloud of tiny o’s that lifted above him to catch the breeze and then were gone.

“Why should I help you?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do? My sister is innocent. She would never kill anyone.”

He arched a brow at her. “Give someone enough reason and they can do almost anything.”

Phoebe stiffened. “Not my sister. She couldn’t. You sound like the police.”

He took another puff and released another string of o’s. “You hear that, brothers? I sound like police.”

Quiet laughter came from the not-so-slumbering figures and she knew that these men were aware of everything around them. They could be an important information source.

The smoking man eyed her. “You sound like a sister who cannot believe in reality. Your sister pushed him, not once, but twice.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. He had seen Becca and Simon. That was something, though this man could be the police’s informant. “I am trying to find people who might have seen something that night. Something beyond the argument that Becca had with Simon. Were you here?”

“My brothers and I sleep here every night.” He inhaled deeply on his cigarette.

“So, you already told the police what you saw.”

A fit of coughing took him and he released smoke in a single, formless cloud. He gasped and coughed and then caught himself.

When he looked back at her, she realized he might have been laughing.

“What’s so funny?” she demanded and stood.

The man wiped his eyes and motioned her back to her bench. “Sit down. Please. It is just that we do not speak to the police unless we are forced. We are quite skilled in avoiding them.”

“They haven’t interviewed you?”

He shook his head and seemed to assess her. “How badly do you wish to know what we saw?”

“It’s my sister—family.” She let her words hang in the air. This man had to understand family. Family relationships were the heart of everything in India.

“I saw your sister and the man. I saw her shove him and walk away so angry she dared not stay. But she came back again and followed him there.” He lifted his chin toward the water.

Phoebe’s pulse quickened. This was a man who might know what happened after Becca pushed Simon down. She could clear Becca. She pulled out her cell phone and brought up Simon’s image. “This is the man you saw?”

He nodded.

If he’d seen Becca push Simon twice, he must have followed them to the seawall.

“What did the man do after Becca left? Did you see him get up? Did you see anyone else?”

The man’s gaze was huge, liquid, and too-knowing. The way he puffed his cigarette, he reminded her of the caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland.

“That is valuable information, is it not?” He eyed her up and down, his gaze coming to settle on her phone.

She shoved the phone in her pocket. “What do you want?”

He took a final puff on his cigarette and threw it on the ground, grinding it out with the heel of his plastic flip-flop. “I am a businessman. I buy and sell what is valuable. From what you say, such information is of great value to you.”

Her stomach clenched and, very much wanting to get up and walk away, she clenched her hands together.

“How much do you want?” She bit out the words.”

©KL Abrahamson 2021

Where can readers find you online?

Come visit and spend some time at www.karenlabrahamson.com. My books are there and so are some photographs and writing from some of my trips. I’m on Facebook at www.facebook.com/karenlabrahamson/ , and on Twitter at @kabrahamson.

The post Today’s Interview is with Mystery Author Karen Abrahamson appeared first on Laurie Wood Author.

Marcelle, welcome to the blog today! I’m thrilled to have you here. Please tell us some more about yourself:

I’ve been writing for ::mumble:: years and have published 14—about to be 15—novels and over 30 short stories. My most popular novels are in the Mendenhall Mystery series, which features Chief of Police Kate Williams and her small-town police force in Mendenhall, Manitoba. But I also love writing fantasy and science fiction, and alternate history. I’ve managed to combine most of these loves in the A’lle Chronicles Mystery series, in which the A’lle crash-landed on Earth in 1711 and have been trying to fit in ever since. The Chronicles feature Constance A’lle, the first A’lle Investigator for Lower Canada and her efforts to uncover a conspiracy that is killing A’lle.

I’m enjoying your Mendenhall series but have yet to start the A’lle Chronicles. They sound fascinating though and I do love alternate history books. Aliens landing in Canada in 1711 could explain a lot of things, lol! 

Your latest book, Identity Withheld, just released from Falcon Publishing. Can you give us a teaser?

Identity Withheld: At 23, Cleo wants a permanent home. Let her parents keep wandering if they want. She’s done. Then someone rams her parents’ car into the river and just like that, the past has caught up to them.

What is the inspiration behind your story?

An idea popped into my head one day: what would you do if you suspected someone you loved of doing something bad? What if that someone was your parents?

How did you come up with the names of your hero and/or heroine?

Cleo’s name just popped into my head, as if she’d been waiting for me to ask. Hugh’s name took a while longer to figure out, but when I came up with the combination Hugh Ondrak, it stuck.

Are you part of a writing group?

Not currently. I used to be, a long time ago, but when I started concentrating on novels, I found a writing group no longer worked for me. I couldn’t send in a chapter at a time and wait for comments before moving on. It would have taken me three years to finish a first draft, not to mention how disruptive it would have been to the flow of the story. A writing group worked really well for me when I was doing mostly short stories. And I learned a great deal from the other writers in the group.

Now I have a trusted first reader, another writer, who is very good at the stuff in which I’m weak. When I’ve addressed the gaping plot holes that she points out, I send the revised version to another reader, who is not a writer, to get a reader’s perspective of the story.

Do you experience writer’s block? What do you do to get through it?

I’ve gone through fallow periods in my writing. Sometimes it’s because I’m stuck in the story (that’s the problem with ‘pantsing’) and I have to wait for the boys in the basement to finish the heavy lifting so I can keep going. When that happens, I work on something else until they’re ready for me.

Sometimes, however, it’s because I’ve experienced a ‘life roll.’ When my dad died, I wasn’t able to write for almost a year and a half. Then Covid hit, and I couldn’t seem to put one word up on the screen. So, I waited. I did other creative things that helped refill my empty well. And sure enough, the writing came back.

And we’re so glad it did! What’s next for you as an author?

I seem to be in a very creative place right now. I finished Identity Withheld this year, as well as the sixth book in my Mendenhall Mystery series, which I hope to release early next year. As well, I’ve written half a dozen short stories in the past few months. Next on the agenda is the third A’lle Chronicles, in which our intrepid heroine moves to Upper Canada to continue her investigation into the shadowy figures that are creating such havoc for the A’lle.

Here’s Marcelle’s intriguing cover for Identity Withheld, and a brief excerpt from the book:

“At last she reached the edge of the porch roof where she remained crouched like an awkward gargoyle, her arms out, her tee-shirt plastering itself against her shivering body.

The chair under the doorknob in the bedroom squealed suddenly as someone tried to push the door open and she glanced down at the ground, fifteen feet below her. If she missed the tree, she could really hurt herself.

Then the bedroom door burst open in a shriek of splintering chair and she launched herself off the edge of the roof.

For a split second, she thought she would crash to the ground, a broken mess. Then her windmilling arms connected with the tree branch and she flung her arms around it, her feet scrambling for purchase on a lower branch.

She hung there, half supported by a flimsy branch barely within reach of her feet, her hands barely able to hang on to the upper branch. A movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention and she turned her head to see a man sticking his head out of her bedroom window. Even in the faint light she could see that he had dark eyes and dark hair and a hard, angular face.

His gaze caught hers and his eyes widened in horror as he grasped her situation.

Then the branch beneath her feet broke and she plummeted to the ground, the flesh on her legs and ribs tearing under the assault of tree branches.

She heard someone scream and had time to realize it was her before she landed. Her feet hit first, then the rest of her followed. She slammed her chin into her knee, her head snapped back, and everything went dark.”

©Marcelle Dubé 2021

If you think that’s intriguing, here’s the back cover blurb:

AFTER A LIFETIME OF RUNNING FROM HER PARENTS’ MYSTERIOUS PAST, IT FINALLY CATCHES UP TO CLEO.

Fredericton, New Brunswick: The sleepy town in Atlantic Canada is only the latest stop for Cleo Brennan’s nomad parents.

But Cleo’s tired of drifting from town to town. At 23, she wants a permanent home. Let her parents keep wandering if they want. She’s done.

While she’s long suspected that her parents are running from something—or someone—suspicion becomes fact when someone rams their car into the river.

Now Cleo must discover the identity of the shadowy individual threatening her parents’ lives… all while keeping an inquisitive detective at bay.

Then someone attacks Cleo and she must figure out, finally, what sent her parents running so long ago—before those behind the secret kill her.

You can buy IDENTITY WITHHELD here:

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3FqqTWP

Kobo: https://bit.ly/3Dldf5v

Barnes and Noble: https://bit.ly/3v45myB

Apple: https://apple.co/2WPqtaY

You can find Marcelle online here:

Web: www.marcellemdube.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/marcelle.dube.3

Twitter: https://twitter.com/marcelledube?lang=en

Mysteries seem to be so appropriate for the month of November. What is your favourite kind of mystery: cozy, police procedural, traditional detective, or more of a thriller? Leave a comment to be entered in a draw and I’ll send you an e-copy of Marcelle’s Identity Withheld.

And if you’re an author who’d like to be interviewed on the blog, send me an email through my Contact Page here on my website and we can chat about it!

The post Author Interview with Marcelle Dubé appeared first on Laurie Wood Author.

Excerpt #9 – Chapter 2:

“Your niece?” Ben sat back in his chair; his body language as open as possible to encourage her to keep talking. He liked Connie and knew she and her husband had worked hard to keep Izzie in school last year. “I didn’t know you had siblings in town.”

“I don’t,” she whispered. “That’s what’s so horrible. Sherida’s my sister’s girl from Winnipeg. Candice sent her up here for the summer to keep her away from some young guy they didn’t want her involved with, and now she’s missing, too.” She reached a shaking hand to grasp the water glass again. “Sherida’s a straight-A student. Never been in trouble before. And Candice trusted me to take care of her.”

Ben glanced over Connie’s shoulder at Zack’s wide-eyed expression. He was sure the girls were holed up at a friend’s house, safe and sound, and likely sleeping off too much beer. He gave Zack a subtle shake of the head.

“Can you give me the same information on Sherida? Just for the record, and then we’ll get started making some phone calls.”

“I’ve already called all of Izzie’s usual friends.” Connie sat straighter in her chair.

“Okay, we can follow up with some door knocking. What’s Sherida’s full name?”

“Sherida Doreen Stewart. She was named for our two grandmothers. Her date of birth is today…” Connie’s voice trembled. “August 1, 2003. She’s taller than my Izzie. 5’ 4” and about 130 lbs. Dark brown hair and brown eyes. Double-pierced ears. I don’t know about any identifying marks—I couldn’t see any tattoos, and I can’t imagine my sister would let her get one.”

Ben typed quickly. “What’s her parents’ contact information?”

“Candice Stewart, 204-555-0956, 134 Arlington Street, Winnipeg, Manitoba.”

“Okay, that’s a good start. Have you contacted your sister yet?”

Connie shrank down again. “No, I was hoping we’d find them this morning.”

“Honestly, Connie, I’m sure they’re sleeping it off at a friend’s place. Someone Izzie’s never mentioned to you before.” Ben fiddled with a pen on his desk. “Has she got a new boyfriend? Would this Jolene have told you about him if she did?”

“Not usually, but Jolene’s mom was super angry with her this morning, so I think she would’ve said something. She’s grounded, so she has no reason to keep secrets.”

Kids always keep secrets from their parents. He passed a piece of paper and his pen over to Connie. “Please write down the addresses of Izzie’s friends, and I’ll go check them out.

It’s harder to lie to the cops than someone’s mom on the phone.”

“You don’t mind?” Connie looked incredulous. She took the paper and started scribbling words down.

“Of course not.” Ben hoped he wouldn’t have to roust ten girls from their hangover slumbers. “We’ll find both girls, and everything will be fine. You’ll see.” He put his computer to sleep. “I’ll let you know as soon as we know anything.”

Connie stood with him. “Thanks. I feel silly now…”

Ben towered over her as he walked her to the front of the station. “No need to worry. Better safe than sorry.” He lifted the latch on the through-door at the counter. “I’ll get back to you, I promise.”

Connie seemed to shrink into herself again as she paused with her hand on the front door’s crash bar. She nodded to them without speaking and left.

“Where do you think they are?” asked Zack.

Ben fingered the paper Connie’d given him. “Hopefully, at one of these houses. Let’s go.” He put on his sunglasses and grabbed his notebook. Except teens always lie to their parents. He sighed. Lies and secrets. I’m definitely back home in Churchill.

Each book had a different type of hero:

Lukas Tanner was an outdoorsman/adventurer,

Ben Koper was in law enforcement,

and Jake Miller was a chef and business owner.

What kind of hero do you most love to read about? 

Leave a comment and be entered into a draw for an E-book copy of any one of my three books in the Heroes of the Tundra series. Thanks for joining me this month for Reader Appreciation!

The post Here’s an Excerpt from NORTHERN PROTECTOR (Heroes of the Tundra Book 2) appeared first on Laurie Wood Author.

Excerpt #5 – Chapter 2:

BEN ENTERED THE POLICE DETACHMENT through the front door and walked right into the morning briefing in the bullpen. No time to hit his locker in the building’s rear, and the new Corporal was holding court waving a fist full of CPIC—Canadian Police Information Centre—notices in his hand. Short and wiry, his white hair was brush cut short, his face wrinkled and acne scarred. His name tag read “Connolly.”

Why here, why now? He’d hoped he’d never see this guy again. Ben took his seat at the only empty desk in the bullpen. A new officer he’d never seen before sat at his old desk beside the front window. The new guy gave him a quick wave while still pretending he was hanging on the Corporal’s every word.

“And another thing,” said Connolly. “I don’t want these warrants sitting around in the filing cabinet for months on end. Get them served. As for the kids ‘joyriding,’”—he made quote marks in the air with his fingers—“in vehicles, no more giving them warnings. They’ll quit doing it if we lay some charges. Dismissed.”

The officer beside Ben stuck up his hand. “Sir, we give warnings because there’s nowhere for them to go up here. This place is more of a ‘community policing’ model than a ‘strictly by-the-book’ model.”

Connolly’s neck flushed red over his open-necked uniform shirt. “Community policing is for cities that want to placate businesses and show people the police won’t tolerate gangs. The kids around here need to know we won’t tolerate them stealing someone’s truck so they can head out to the flats or the national park. Someone else’s vehicle isn’t for their own personal transportation. Maybe it helps the only tow truck service in town, but we waste our time doing the paperwork.” “Yes, Corporal,” said the officer, pursing his lips.

“You have a problem with that?” said Connolly.

“No, Corporal,” said the officer.

“Good.” Connolly turned to Ben. Recognition raised his left eyebrow. “Koper, you managed to grace us with your presence.” “Yes,” said Ben.

“Yes, Corporal,” said the Corporal. “In my office.” He jerked his thumb towards the centre office. “Adam, check the two drunks in the back cells. Zack, you can handle the phone until Trudy gets in at 9 a.m.”

Zack, who didn’t believe in community policing, nodded affirmatively, while Adam, the new guy by the front window, got up and headed back into the cell block. Ben knew they’d been watching the prisoners on the in-station camera monitoring system during the meeting, but he was impressed with how fast Connolly got rid of the other two officers.

He placed the cupcake box on Trudy’s desk, along with the now lukewarm coffees, and followed Connolly into his office. Those two other guys were new to him. Before his polar bear “accident,” he’d held down the detachment nearly single-handedly. What a luxury to have a full complement of four officers for the summertime.

The industrial sage green walls hadn’t changed, nor had any of the government issued wildlife pictures hanging on them. The name plate on the desk now read Corporal Garry Connolly instead of Corporal Stan Baker, his last commander. He stood in front of the desk until Connolly motioned for him to sit.

“How’s the arm—shoulder—whatever?” Connolly’s eyes crinkled into streams of crows’ feet as he stared hard at Ben. “I need you in fighting shape because Zack’s leaving for five weeks holidays.”

“It’s good. The doctor cleared me. I emailed everything last week.”

“No lingering head effects, concussive disorder?”

Ben grasped the arms of his chair to hide the tremors in his hands. “I’m good to go.”

Connolly glared at him. “I won’t lie. I didn’t want you back here. I’ve seen injuries less extensive than yours foul guys up, and I need everyone in the field.”

Ben straightened in the chair. “I’ve got another year to go here. I’m finishing the posting.” He paused. “Corporal.”

“You’re all I’ve heard about since I posted in. How Ben Koper survived the great polar bear mauling last fall. You’re some kind of folk hero around here.” Connolly leaned back in his office chair, his eyes squinted up with the ready anger Ben remembered so well.

“You’d better not make me regret it. Someone in “D” Division down south likes you.”

Connolly jabbed his forefinger at him. “I’ve got no patience with weaklings.” How could I ever forget?

“As I said, I’m good to go.” Ben gripped the arms of the chair tighter. “Are we switching up our hours for the summer?”

“Regular days unless something comes up. On call for nights—seven nights at a time.” Connolly stared at Ben’s face, his gaze raking over the still-red scar snaking from Ben’s scalp through his right eyebrow and over to his ear.

Connolly missed nothing. A smaller scar might have given Ben a rakish pirate air. Instead, the bear’s claws had left him looking like someone had scraped a pitchfork along the side of his head.

Have you ever had an issue with your boss or other authority figure at work? How did you cope with it?

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Excerpt #4 – Chapter 1:

“What’s wrong with the policeman, Mommy?”

“Nothing, honey. I just had to talk to him,” said Joy. She hung a right to go north and then a left at the Town Centre.

Her ancient two-door sedan had nearly 110,000 kilometers on it. Up here, everyone drove their vehicles into the ground. The only places to go were around town, out to the airport, or along the coast twenty-three kilometers to the Arctic Studies Research Centre. She’d gotten this car from her parents when she was sixteen, but it was already well used then.

She helped Emberlyn out of her car seat and let her skip along the sidewalk towards the main doors. Her princess backpack bounced on her thin shoulders when she hopscotched on invisible squares before hitting the automatic door opener with the flat of her palm.

“His ear looks ugly,” said Emberlyn. They entered the air-conditioned building that housed every important business for the town. The Town Complex stretched for five city blocks along the shoreline.

Joy worked in the Health Centre here and loved the fact that she could leave Emberlyn in the Little Tots Day Care because it had extended hours for shift workers. They walked past the library and down the hallway towards the indoor play area, where young moms and their little kids congregated on days of inclement weather.

That’s because he got mauled by the polar bear last winter,” she said as she held the inner door open for her daughter. “Don’t say that to anyone. I’m sure Constable Koper’s self-conscious about it.”

“I won’t.” Emberlyn skipped into the day care foyer, her light-up runners flashing pink and purple lights. “Can he hear out of it?”

“I’m sure he can, or he wouldn’t be back at work.” She stood by while Emberlyn hung up her backpack in her cubby and toed off her runners. Fatigue washed over her. Her Saturday overnight shift had been busier than usual. A fight at the Legion and two domestics. It made it harder when she knew the victims.

“Okay.” Emberlyn shrugged and reached up for a quick hug and kiss. “Love you,

Mommy.”

“Love you too, baby.” She squeezed her daughter tightly. It was so hard to leave her in the care of others besides herself or her own mother. She straightened as Shannon appeared.

“Hey, Emberlyn. Are you ready for breakfast, or did you eat at Gramma’s house?”

“We had chocolate chip pancakes,” said Emberlyn, beaming. “Gramma let me pour the pancake batter because I’m six now and big enough.” She clutched her princess doll to her side. “I can help you make breakfast.”

Shannon laughed. “Well, aren’t you wide awake this morning. Sure, you can help make breakfast for the little kids.” She took Emberlyn by the hand and smiled at Joy.

“Looks like you could use a decent sleep. Rough shift?”

Joy shrugged. “Eh, rough enough. I didn’t get much sleep before I went on.” She ruffled Emberlyn’s hair. “I’ll be back to get her by 5 p.m. Bye, squirt.”

“Bye, Mommy.”

Joy watched the two of them disappear into the kitchen, then headed back out to her car. Every part of her ached from being on the run all shift. But it was the middle of summer, which meant staff shortages from holidays. After this next shift, she’d be able to collapse into sleep while her mom took Emberlyn for the night again.

Joy watched the two of them disappear into the kitchen, then headed back out to her car. Every part of her ached from being on the run all shift. But it was the middle of summer, which meant staff shortages from holidays. After this next shift, she’d be able to collapse into sleep while her mom took Emberlyn for the night again.

Driving back down the hill, she remembered the feel of Ben’s hard shoulder under her hand. Something about it wasn’t right. She touched her throbbing nose ruefully. Served her right for scaring the poor man. He’d been having a full-blown panic attack. She hoped for his sake, he’d had some therapy back in Winnipeg. No one here expected to see him again after his close brush with death.

They’d stabilized him with two blood transfusions and a quick surgery to put his shoulder back in place, before helicoptering him down to the Health Sciences Centre in Winnipeg for proper reconstructive surgery. Her boss, Dr. Will Stedman knew the plastic surgeon who’d reattached Ben’s right ear and fixed the scarring on his face and right eyebrow.

Emberlyn was right. His damaged ear was noticeable—but only because as a police officer, he had to wear his hair short, and it was uncovered. Kudos to him for being brave enough not to care what people thought of his looks. And for coming back here where he was injured in the first place. She didn’t know if she would’ve had the guts to go through with it. On the other hand, her return to Churchill had taken a different kind of courage.

She wheeled around the corner of the building into the Health Centre staff parking.

Time to grab another coffee and get back to work.

Have you ever had an injury that disfigured you or disabled you in any way? How did you cope with it?

Leave a comment and be entered to win an E-book copy of NORTHERN PROTECTOR.

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In July, 2019, my husband and I headed up to Churchill, Manitoba, Canada so I could do summer research for my next book, NORTHERN PROTECTOR (Heroes of the Tundra Book 2). 

That sign hangs in the Churchill airport. The citizens and Natural Resources Officers are quite serious about polar bear safety and the rules are meant for everyone. When we arrived on July 8, 2019 there had only been one polar bear spotted coming in from Hudson Bay’s coast. By the time we left at the end of the week, there would be five more sighted.

When I wrote the first book in the series, NORTHERN DECEPTION, and the subsequent Christmas novella, NORTHERN HEARTS, both of those books took place during the winter time. I had over 100 photos that my husband had taken in Churchill during March, 2011, when he was up there on a Search and Rescue training mission with the Royal Canadian Air Force. He loves to take photos and so I had a good idea of the town layout, the various buildings of interest, and the topography in the winter time.

However, NORTHERN PROTECTOR takes place in the summer time following the Christmas novella and I wanted to get all the details right on the flora and fauna of the taiga – the land that is the sub-arctic which Churchill stands on – and is beside the tundra. And I wanted to see the animals in the Wildlife Management Area which is government-protected because the polar bears have their maternity dens there and return each year to have their cubs. I knew that setting a murder mystery in a small, sub-arctic town, which is a fly-in and railroad only access year round would have it’s challenges.

So, we headed up by air and signed up for a couple of tour packages through https://frontiersnorth.com/.

Here’s some photos of locations that are in the book:

These are the kind of townhouses Joy and Emberlyn Gallagher live in. Row housing conserves heat during the winter time. In the late 1950’s-1960’s, Churchill had a military installation up there that held 5000 people. Some of these row houses are left over from that era. Now, the town boasts 900 people on a good day. During tourist season – the winter time or polar bear season – it swells to over double that normally. It’s been a ghost town during the pandemic.

This is the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) Detachment on the main street. I wasn’t allowed to take pictures inside, of course, but my descriptions in the book are accurate. It also houses three cells at the rear for over-night prisoners who need to sober up or are being held for plane transport down to Thompson, Manitoba for court purposes. This is where Constable Ben Koper works.

An aerial shot, thanks to my husband’s trip in 2011. This is the Town Centre which is many blocks long and houses City Hall, the Health Centre which is a 100-bed hospital, the day care centre, library, recreation centre, bowling alley, movie theatre, and indoor playing area for year-round playing for kids. Due to the snowstorms and cold weather that comes down from the Arctic and the polar vortex that usually covers the town and surrounding area, everything important in the town is under this main building and inter-connected. The Town Centre and Health Centre feature in all three of my books.

This is part of the waiting area for the Emergency Department of the Health Centre, where Joy Gallagher works as head nurse. I  wasn’t allowed to take photos further into the Centre but I loved the polar bear mural.

Here’s one of the two sets of apartment buildings in Churchill. I gave both Ben Koper and Jake Miller from NORTHERN HEARTS, apartments.

This Inukshuk features in each of the three books. Here it is in winter time, facing back into town and across the thin edge of the Bay towards the Granaries. The town used to be a major shipping port for all of Canada’s western grain and it was stored here before shipping across the world. The Granaries is where Kira Summer’s from NORTHERN DECEPTION is kidnapped and held for questioning about her whistleblower brother’s evidence by the villains.

Here I am standing beside it to give you an idea of the size. Inukshuk’s are man-made stone forms to show directions for hunter’s on the taiga or tundra. In NORTHERN PROTECTOR, the high school kids have been meeting down here on the beach to drink alcohol and socialize, putting themselves in danger to meeting up with polar bears who like to hide and sleep in the warm rocks.

These tiny cabins were the inspiration for my serial killers “workshop” on the “lake”, although these ones were right on Hudson Bay. These actual cabins are for ice fishing during the winter but when I saw them, my imagination started to go into over-drive.

We spent a whole day outside the town in the Wildlife Management Area on a Tundra Buggy. I wasn’t allowed to use the real trademarked name in my books so I called them Arctic Rovers. It’s made from the chassis of a fire truck, with special tires made to withstand a polar bear’s claws, and you can see by our heights how far off the ground they have to be. A male polar bear can stand up to 12-14 feet tall, and they often come right up to the Buggies and check them out.

You can see the width of the polar bear’s paws compared to my head. When Constable Ben Koper is mauled by a polar bear in NORTHERN DECEPTION, he’s only saved by his best friend driving a truck at it, and a Natural Resources Officer tranquilizing the bear. Bear/people encounters don’t usually end well. The Natural Resources Officers spend most of their time patrolling outside the town limits to haze bears away from the town, which is right on their migration path from Hudson Bay, where the sea ice is, west-ward inland to where they want to spend the summer months.

Next Wednesday I’ll share photos of places that are in NORTHERN DECEPTION and NORTHERN HEARTS. If you have any questions for me, please leave them in the comments and I’ll get back to you!

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Excerpt #3 – Chapter 1:

“Mommy. I’m gonna be late for day care.”

A small, dark head with long hair poked out of the turquoise car parked in front of

Ruby’s. The child waved at them. “C’mon, Mommy.” “Perfect timing,” Joy said under her breath.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing, never mind,” she said. “You sure you’re okay? You’re not feeling faint or anything?”

Ben took a deep breath, finally. “I’m good. Thanks for checking. Don’t know what happened there.” He put his sunglasses back on. Small comfort, but a mask all the same.

Joy gave him a slanted look. “Are you going off shift or just going on?”

“Going on, and I’m late. I’m supposed to be bringing in coffee for the guys and a round of Ruby’s cupcakes.”

“Okay, well, I won’t keep you,” she said, then started walking back towards Ruby’s and her car. The little girl was hanging out the front window of the car from her waist.

“Emberlyn Marie Gallagher. Sit back in that car this instant.”

A flash of mischief shot through deep brown eyes that were a clone of her mother’s as the little girl’s face broke into a brilliant smile, and she laughed. Joy kissed the child’s upturned face and reached through the open car window to help her back into the front seat.

“I guess I’d better get her over to day care.”

“Are you going on shift or coming off?” parroted Ben. Please don’t leave yet.

“Just going back on a double shift in the ER. Mom had her for the night, so now it’s time for day care.”

“A double? Is that normal?” You sound like an overeager teenager. Knock it off.

Her laugh made his stomach flip. Yep, definitely feeling like an overeager teenager.

Joy headed around her car and opened the driver’s door. She cocked her head to the side.

“You’re going to be fine, Ben.” Her smile shone as radiantly as the sunrise. She jumped into her car and slammed the door.

He stood at the bottom of the café steps and watched them drive away. His right shoulder throbbed. It still throbbed every day. He’d lied to his physiotherapist because his short-term disability was up. If he couldn’t get back to work, he’d have to quit The Job. He had nothing else but The Job. Not being a cop wasn’t an option.

“You’re going to be fine, Ben.”

From your lips to God’s ear, Joy Gallagher.

He headed up the steps and yanked open the door. The sweet aroma of baked goods and coffee teased his nose as it welcomed him into the café. Maybe he imagined it, but people seemed to stop talking, especially over at the “gossip” table in the far right corner. He caught the furtive glances, eyes cutting away, and feet rustling under the tables. Was it how he looked? The uniform ball cap didn’t cover his ear, but it did cover his right eyebrow and forehead.

“Hey,” he said to the air in general. He nodded towards the right and left and then walked up to the counter. Mercifully, people began speaking in low tones again, the sound washing over him like a balm. He’d expected people to react to his scars when he came back to work, which was why he flew up yesterday to minimize the contact

***

Do you enjoy reading romances or romantic suspense books with children in them? Or do you prefer your romances to only include the hero and heroine?

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Excerpt #2 – Chapter 1:

“Ben, look at me,” she ordered. That voice had a familiar ring to it. Bossy but comforting at the same time. He’d heard it before. “Let me see you without the sunglasses.”

He removed them without question, his heart slowing while sweat made his uniform shirt cling to his back. At nearly 6:30 a.m, no less. Or, what time was it now? He was inexcusably late. Not a great impression to make on the new Corporal.

The woman stood in front of him, her dark brown eyes concerned as she held him by his upper arms. He blinked twice and tried to get his tongue to work. Mortification brought a dull red flush to his cheeks. I should know her… Gah, why won’t my stupid brain work?

She wore purple nursing scrubs with sprigs of pink flowers on them. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a braided ponytail, but her eyes—they were the deepest brown he’d ever seen. Several gold earrings pierced her right ear, and one gold stud pierced her left. A delicate scrolled flower tattoo peeked out along her left collarbone. And she smelled of fresh citrus. Like a pitcher of lemonade.

All right, he hadn’t totally lost his powers of perception. A gorgeous woman had just pulled him out of a full-blown panic attack in the middle of main street. Wonderful. He might as well turn in his badge and gun, drive straight to the airport, and fly home.

“Ben, it’s me.” She put her hands on her hips. “It’s Joy.” She looked like she would snap her fingers in his face any second.

He shook his head. Cleared his throat. Wished the pavement would open and swallow him whole. “I remember.”

Joy. When the nightmares came rushing in the night from the bear attack, it was her voice and the touch of her hands on him as she bound up his shoulder that he remembered. And her scent—that was a great memory—citrusy and fruity after the horror of the bear’s mouth and its rancid smell. She had bent over him, bandaging his head with gauze as they tried to save his right ear for the plastic surgeon.

Yes, it was all coming back to him now.

“I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” Lord, just beam me a hundred miles away from here, right now. This is not how I wanted to meet her again.

“No, of course not. How are you?” She touched his forearm lightly. “I mean really, how are you? You—didn’t text me what flight you were coming in on.”

“Sorry. I got it last minute.” There. At least his voice wasn’t shaking like his knees were. Shaking like a trembling foal.

“Great.” She took a step back as if realizing she was in his personal space. “I’m so glad… you’re back. Most people would never have come up here again after what you went through.”

His right shoulder grated in its socket when he put his hand on his service weapon again. That grounded him. Although, he wasn’t sure hanging on to his gun was what his therapist had in mind when he said to find objects to fixate on during a panic attack. Time to pop another pain pill, but not with Joy in sight.

“Thanks. I don’t blame the bear. He was just being a bear.” Wow. Quit while you’re ahead. She’s more stunning in person than her texts ever let on.

****

What was the most embarrassing encounter you’ve ever had with a member of the opposite sex?

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CHAPTER ONE

Saturday, August 1

Churchill, Manitoba

CONSTABLE BEN KOPER PULLED HIS POLICE truck over to the side of the road across from Ruby’s Café & Emporium. His first day back at work in nine months, and already he was running late. He slammed the truck into park and stared up and down Kelsey Boulevard, on high alert for any movement between the buildings.

Last November, a polar bear had attacked him in this exact spot. He hadn’t been back to Churchill since then. Goose bumps skittered along his arms. Rationally, he knew that bears had been spotted along the coast and probably hadn’t made it into town yet. But his anxiety and the acid in his stomach told his brain a polar bear could be anywhere, now that the sea ice had melted.

Ben grabbed his mobile phone with the coffee orders on it and stepped out of his truck, pulling his baseball cap down to his sunglasses. He slammed the truck door and strode to the pavement of Kelsey Boulevard. The rest of the street sat quiet, while Ruby’s 6:00 a.m. crowd was hopping with its early morning breakfast specials. He could see people eating at tables through the huge front plate-glass window.

When he hit the middle of the street, his heart sped up, jackhammering in his chest. His feet refused to move past the centre of the road, like he’d struck an invisible wall. Adrenaline shot through his limbs. His vision tunneled into black holes. Sweat poured down his back and gathered on his forehead. He put his right hand on the grip of his service weapon, trying to get some equilibrium. His throat closed, and he leaned over with his hands on his knees. Deep breaths.

Deep, deep breaths Trying, trying…

Dan Sherman, his therapist, sounded in his head. “Look for five things around you to centre yourself. Repeat them to yourself. Then count them down one by one.”

Panting, beads of sweat rolled down the right side of his face over his scarred eyebrow and ear. All he could see was the concrete road and small rocks littered about.

There’s nothing but the road. Concrete, rocks, concrete, rocks…

He needed five things. His boots wouldn’t move. He stood hunched over in the middle of the street, trying not to throw up his meagre breakfast. No other objects around; nothing else to see. His feet… he couldn’t move his feet.

Running shoes, white and pink running shoes… Where did they come from?

“Ben? Ben,” a lilting, female voice broke through his fog. “Are you okay?”

A hand touched his shoulder, his sore right shoulder, and he flinched. Finally. He could move. He reared his head up and collided with the face belonging to the voice.

“Ow.” The woman let go of his shoulder and grabbed her nose while he staggered sideways.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he stammered. He reached forward to steady himself with his right hand but dropped his phone on the ground with his other hand. The woman dove for the phone and swiveled around to give it to him.

*****

My husband was in the financial investment industry prior to joining the military. He won a trip for two to Las Vegas for a four day weekend as part of a company-wide incentive plan, so off we went to Sin City. It was actually a wonderful trip as we saw Siegfried and Roy with their white tigers, and a musical that I can’t recall. (Those white tigers were my main memory and favorite thing!) However, after seeing the S&R show, the crowd spilled out onto The Strip and joined in with a huge wave of people flowing down the pavement. We were shoulder to shoulder with people and being carried along organically. People were openly drinking beer and other alcohol, and the crowd was raucous, to say the least.

We were being crushed in this crowd and even though it was going in the direction we wanted to go in, I started having trouble breathing. Then I got crushing chest pains and thought I was having a heart attack. My legs shook and I grabbed my husband because I was afraid I was going to fall down and be trampled. He managed to maneuver us over to the hotel-side sidewalk so I could take a breath. However, things just got worse. I wanted him to call me an ambulance I was so sure I was having a heart attack.

However, smart man that he is, he pulled me inside the hotel and found the breakfast cafe. (Las Vegas really is open 24 hrs a day and they were serving breakfast) He ordered me black tea and toast, rubbed my hands, and spoke soothingly to me. I gradually calmed down. It was visceral, uncontrollable body experience that I’ll never forget. I just had to ride it out. It was also the one and only – thank goodness – panic attack I’ve ever had in my life. I’ve experienced anxiety on a much smaller scale but never anything that bad again.

Have you ever had a panic attack or been with someone while they were having one? How did you cope with it?

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