Family Skeletons - Book Tour and Giveaway

Family Skeletons
Baker City: Hearts & Haunts Book 3
by Josie Malone
Genre: Paranormal Military Romance 

Sergeant First Class Sullivan Barlow has plans for her future and none of them include the guy she slept with in a night of weakness. Intending to forget the devastation of losing her best friend in Afghanistan, Sully woke the next morning still alone. Her only solace—she hadn’t told the man her real name.
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A career soldier, Tate Murphy has three more years in the Army until he’s eligible for retirement. Seven weeks ago, he met a woman in a hotel bar and spent the night with her. He hasn’t been able to get her out of his mind and can’t believe his luck when he finds her again.

Then they discover their first night together resulted in something they never expected. She’s pregnant, and Tate immediately proposes. Pregnant, struggling with survivor guilt, the last thing Sully needs is to learn her best friend may have died, but hasn’t left yet.

Tate says, ‘sometimes courage is an act of survival’. Sully fears trust is a casualty of war. Will she and Tate ever find it again either by themselves or with the help of those who have passed on before?


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​PART ONE

“This is my home, and no haunt is taking it away…”
Catriona O’Leary McTavish



PROLOGUE

Snohomish, Washington

“And now a human-interest story for all you dreamers who love to write.”
Cat cracked eggs into a bowl as she listened to the news anchors on the kitchen radio talk about two men determined to sell their dilapidated family farm in an unusual way. They wanted someone to restore it as a guest ranch, so they were running an essay contest.
“So, all you have to do is describe the way you’d save the place, toss in a hundred bucks for the entry fee and you’re good to go. You could be the new owner of Cedar Creek Guest Ranch. Of course, the catch is you can’t sell it.”
Cat froze, staring first at the bowl where she was supposed to be creating French toast batter for her eight-year-old daughters and then at the radio as the babbling continued.
Oh my Gawd. I remember that place. We visited every summer until it closed when I was fourteen. It was pure heaven.
Memories floated through Cat’s mind of camping trips on horseback, square dancing in the rec hall, movies shown on the barn wall, swimming in the mountain snow melt-off of the icy river and long cozy conversations with Aunt Rose over cups of hot cocoa.
It’s mine, she thought with staunch determination. Well, it will be when I write the winning essay. What can I say? How can I tell strangers how wonderful it was to have a perfect place, a place where nothing and no one could ever hurt me?

***

Horse lunch fed, her collie-mix pup tagging behind, Catriona McTavish strolled toward the two-bedroom trailer, planning the rest of her day. She had three horses to work before her eight-year-old daughters arrived home from school and of course her intern had chosen today to do the ‘no-show’ routine which meant Cat had to groom and saddle for herself in addition to riding. Vestiges of the argument she’d had with her husband this morning still clouded her mind. She felt like one of the twins must feel when being dragged to a doctor’s appointment.
No, no, no! I don’t wanna go to Louisiana. Listen to me. I want to stay here where I have a great boss, friends, a job I love. I’m finally making it as a natural horse trainer. I’ve followed you for nine years. Why can’t our lives be about me for once?
She’d had to throttle down the impulse to yell at him this morning. Frazer claimed he couldn’t talk to her when she was angry. He’d fled to the ‘safety’ of the casino where he worked as a pit boss, knowing she had to get the twins off to school and wouldn’t stay up till the wee hours to confront him when he reluctantly returned home.
The landline rang, interrupting her silent rage. She hastily closed the door behind her before going to pick up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Is this Catriona O’Leary McTavish?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, good. I’m Ed Williams. Did you enter an essay contest my brother and I held?”
“Yes.” Cat caught her breath, recalling the day last spring when she’d heard the announcement on the radio. “You were awarding your family dude ranch to the person who wrote the winning essay. Did I—?”
“Yes, we picked your essay. It stirred a lot of good memories.”
“I won?” Cat asked in a whisper. “I really won?”
“Yes. You still want the ranch, don’t you?”
“Oh, my Gawd. Yes! Of course, I want it.” She resisted the urge to dance around the kitchen. “Are you serious? Do you mean I have a home? I finally have a ‘real’ home – the perfect home.”
“It’s not perfect. The place needs a lot of work. The ranch is just a few miles outside of Baker City.”
“I know,” Cat said. “I used to visit my grandmother there.”
“We thought you might be one of those O’Leary women. Glad to hear it. Welcome home, Catriona. Do you have time to meet with my brother and me tonight so we can discuss the details?”
“Of course, I do. Thank you so much. You won’t regret this, Mr. Williams. I’ll make the Cedar Creek Guest Ranch shine again. I promise.”
“We’re counting on you. We’re so happy you entered our contest.”
“Me too. You don’t know what this means to me. I’m so lucky. I feel like I just won the lottery.”
He chuckled. “Actually, you don’t know how long the town and we’ve been looking for someone like you, Catriona O’Leary. We’re the lucky ones.”


CHAPTER ONE

Cedar Creek Guest Ranch, Baker Valley, Washington

“If a man’s been dead more than forty years, he ought to be able to enjoy peace and quiet.”
Hearing the crunch of tires on the gravel driveway, the spirit of Rob Williams floated toward the picture window to see who dared come onto his land. A battered pickup stopped in front of the house. An equally ancient horse-trailer was hitched to the four-wheel-drive. Two little girls got out and raced around the rigs followed by a young black and gold collie, not much more than a puppy.
Not again. What was it going to take for his family to stop renting out his home? This was his place. He’d died for it at Hamburger Hill back in ’69 during the height of the Vietnam Conflict. He bought the farm with his blood. Well, actually his parents had used the money from his military insurance to pay off the last of the mortgage on their home. Rob had no intention of passing on to what was considered a ‘better place.’ Now, he had a new bunch of strangers to haunt and send away. He supposed he could call it a favorite hobby in what was supposed to be his after-life.
Suddenly, a copper-haired woman strolled into view from the far side of the truck. As he watched, she knelt and caught both girls in a hug. The pup flopped down beside them in the dust, panting. Rob may have been dead, but nothing said he couldn’t enjoy the sight of a woman who looked like one, instead of a scrawny hippie with no bosom, no waist, no hips and flowers in her long hair. That was the fashion back in the 1960s, but he’d never cared for it. Besides, curiosity had always been his downfall.
Rob drifted through the window and out onto the rotted deck of the wrap-around porch. The woman glanced toward the house and he glimpsed the emerald green of her eyes, as green as the needles on hemlock trees. Her head would have just reached his shoulder when he was alive. For a moment, he admired the voluptuous curves that filled out her lacy white western shirt and faded tight-fitting Levi’s. He could have fit both hands around her waist if only he could touch her. Rob moved closer. What was he doing? This woman was nothing to him and she would have to go, taking those kids and the dog with her.
He’d send them away, but not just yet.
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More Than a Spirit
Baker City: Hearts & Haunts Book 2 

Home from her Army Reserve tour in Afghanistan, Sergeant First Class Ann Barrett is divorced, unemployed and dealing with her unruly, spoiled six-year-old. The last thing she needs is a ghost playing matchmaker. Not ready to trade in her fatigues for a civilian job as a high school teacher, Ann applies for a position at the Army Reserve base.

Issues arise when she meets her new boss, former Army Ranger, Master Sergeant Harry Colter. He came to Fort Bronson in Seattle to escape his grief when his best friend died in an ambush, but he hasn’t realized he didn’t come alone, or that his buddy is playing ‘Cupid’.

It’s difficult for Ann leave the war behind when so many things enrage her, like her ex-husband and her family that puts the fun back in “dysfunctional.” However, in order to handle what comes now, she must deal with her past, her child and the 20-year-old secret she learns about Harry.

Will a woman with enough baggage to fill a footlocker and a man who knows life comes with no guarantees save each other and find a future?



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​CHAPTER ONE

Ann Barrett scooped up the hoof pick she kept in the soap dish whenever she showered. Designed to clean horse hooves, the small steel hook on a poly handle could do serious damage to an attacker’s face. Now that she was back home in Washington State, she knew she ought to feel safe, but she didn’t. The survival lessons learned during three tours in the Middle East remained with her. She had to stay vigilant if she didn’t want to be assaulted at best, raped at worst.
During her first combat tour in Iraq eight years ago, she carried a pocket-knife everywhere, but things were different in Afghanistan. The First Sergeant told the women they couldn’t keep their knives in the latrines with them, so Ann sent home for an order of hoof picks and taught her friends how to use them. The female personnel in her unit were the only women on their base who weren’t attacked.
Pulling off the plastic shower cap, she shook out her shoulder-length brown hair. She wrapped a skimpy brown towel around her, holding it with her left hand while she kept the hoof pick in her right. She headed down the short hall to the main part of the latrine where she’d left the clean set of fatigues.
She froze in the doorway.
A man stood at the sink washing his hands. He stared at her in the mirror.
“What are you doing here?” She demanded and snugged the towel around her, wishing the material touched her knees or her shoulders, but it didn’t. “Who the hell are you?”
“Harry Colter.” The dark-haired man finally responded. He swung around to face her. His piercing blue gaze locked onto the tops of her breasts. “This is the men’s latrine. Are you lost?”
“I know it’s the men’s room.” Ann gripped the hoof pick more tightly. She reminded herself not to allow her temper to take over the confrontation. “I posted a sign.”
“Did you really?” His gaze moved onto her legs.
She raked him with a scathing glare. His light green Class B shirt emphasized broad shoulders and muscular arms. She told herself that she only looked at the service ribbons and decorations, not his wide chest that tapered down to narrow hips. She lifted her gaze, glimpsed the Ranger tab and parachute decal that signified he’d qualified as one of the Airborne elite.
His dark green dress slacks ended in jump boots and she took a second look at the black epaulets on his shoulders and recognized the three rockers that showed he was a Master Sergeant and outranked her. Be careful, she told herself. Even in this situation military courtesy counted and could be held against her.
She lifted her chin and met his amused gaze. She adopted the tone of sweet reason that she used to win with stubborn teens. “I’ll say it slowly this time. Get out!”
He shook his head. “I didn’t see a sign.”
“Then, you must be blind.” Ann tossed her head. She always used the men’s latrine to shower after her lunch-time run, everybody in her unit did. The Army Reserve base hadn’t been in the best of repair before the battalion shipped out on this latest tour to Afghanistan. During the almost two years overseas, the pipes in the women’s bathroom burst. The toilets and sinks still worked, but the four showers didn’t.
Of course, the request for repairs had to go through a million hoops before maintenance resolved the plumbing issue. As always, it was a case of hurry up and wait in the Army. Probably the unit would be shipped out to another hotspot, the World War Two barracks would collapse while they were gone, and the women’s bathroom would still be defunct.
“What’s it going to take for you to leave?” she asked. “I want to get dressed.”
“It’s okay if I’m here. I’m a man. You’re not. You go.”
“In a towel?” Ann gave an exaggerated gasp of shock. She’d learned how to be a drama queen from the best teachers in the world, high school girls. “You’re no gentleman.”
He leaned against the sink, quirking a brow. “Don’t have to be one. I’m a sergeant, not an officer.” A slow smile tugged at his mouth. “Are you acting like a lady?”
Ann glowered. Despite the smart-ass attitude, she felt as if he caressed her with that warm sapphire gaze. How ridiculous could she be? Yes, he was the first man to catch her attention in a long time, but she’d absolutely refused to get involved with any of the men at the base in Afghanistan. Even if her husband, Will had filed for divorce while she was gone, she still felt married.
She took a deep breath. She wasn’t innocent by any stretch of the imagination. She was a 31-year-old divorcee with a six-year-old daughter to support. She checked her towel, shifted the hoof pick to her left hand, then bypassed him to pull open the door, remove her cardboard sign and waved it in front of her where he couldn’t ignore it.
"This says W.O.M.E.N. Women! You'd never pass the physical, Colter. Now haul it out of here." In a perverse way, she enjoyed the flirtation too, but she wouldn’t admit it. She jerked her head toward the door. "I'm waiting, Sergeant."
He bunched the paper towel in his hand and tossed it into the garbage. Then he started toward her. "What would you do if I kissed you?"
Heat scorched into Ann's cheeks. She gauged the sincerity on his tough-looking features. She'd taken one look at him and felt as if her knees rapidly turned to mush. She drew a ragged breath. The last thing she needed was to get emotionally involved with any man. She’d learned that lesson all too well.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked. "The question too hard for you?”
“I figured you had a death wish.” When he got closer, she took a step backwards, wondering if she’d have to use the hoof pick to defend herself. She tensed and lowered her voice. "Back off, Colter. This has gone on long enough. I don't want you to kiss me. I don't want you to touch me. All I want is for you to get out of here so I can get dressed."
He came to a stop in front of her and studied her mouth for a long moment. Then he strode through the open door. "Oh well. I can wait."
"You'll wait till hell freezes over!" What a cliché. She used to be an English teacher, here in the so-called ‘real’ world. Couldn't she have done better than that? Ann caught her breath when he swung around.
"No, I won't." Harry's smile widened into an easy grin. "I'm going to marry you." He jerked his head toward her stack of clothes. "So, get dressed."
"Are you freakin’ nuts?" Ann's voice rose and she struggled to control it. "You don't even know my name."
"It doesn't matter," Harry said. "The last one will be Colter soon enough."
"I wouldn't have you if you were the last man on earth!"
"Yes, you would." Harry chuckled. "But you'd stand in line. It'd be good for that temper of yours." He paused and glanced at the hoof pick in her hand. “I’d have to take a knife away from you, but a gal who can improvise and knows how to use a hoof pick, well that’s the kind a man needs to marry.”
The door began to swing closed. Without a moment's hesitation, she slammed it behind him and heard the roar of his laughter from the hall. She'd see to it he paid for every wisecrack. To do that meant she had to get dressed, and Ann hurried toward her uniform.
Dropping her towel on the floor, she put the hoof pick next to her uniform. She reached for the yellow silk panties neatly hidden under her fatigue pants. He was a hunk and he certainly knew it. Even now, she could recall the chiseled planes and angles of his handsome features. The harsh line of his jaw and the faint scar on his right cheek, plus the fact that his nose had been broken at one time, all showed he was more than just another pretty face.
Ann put on the matching lacy yellow bra and picked up her desert tan t-shirt which she privately thought of as dingy gray. Another wave of heat swept into her face as she realized just how much of her body Colter had seen. She pulled on her camouflage pants, buttoning them around her waist, and adjusted the black web belt. The pants were a little baggy, but she knew she’d gain weight now that she was a civilian again, so she’d hold off on buying a smaller size. Why wasn’t she more embarrassed about being caught in a towel?
Perhaps Colter's flirtation had been meant to insure just that result. If so, it increased her interest in him. Coming from the small logging town of Baker City, she preferred what she considered real men, the strong, silent ones she had to kick to see if they were still alive.

***

Leaning against the wall outside the men’s latrine, Zeke Garvey whistled softly in admiration. Nobody saw him anymore. Hell, they didn’t realize he was still here, not after that I.E.D. took him out six months ago. It’d taken all his energy to remove the sign with its red letters and then replace it. He’d done it to get Colter’s attention. Yes, his childhood buddy had returned to Washington State, but he hadn’t made a commitment to stay, at least not yet. A woman, the right woman would make a difference and this one had spunk. Colter couldn’t leave.
He needed to stay here, so Zeke could watch over his own family. Not for the first time, he wished he could tell Twila what he felt. She’d followed him from Army base to Army base for so long and waited so patiently with their sons every time he shipped out for one more combat tour. All she’d ever asked for was a little girl, but five boys later, he’d failed there too. I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.

My Sweet Haunt
Baker City: Hearts & Haunts Book 1 

Cobwebs, eerie sounds and creaky floorboards greet Cat O’Leary McTavish and her twin daughters when they move to their new home, a dilapidated dude ranch near Baker City in the Cascade foothills of Washington State. Her plan to restore the destination resort to its former glory hits a snag when she learns she has the ‘O’Leary Gift’ and can talk to the dead man who still resides in her house.

Former Army Ranger, Rob Williams always planned to run the family guest ranch after completing his military service. Instead, he “bought the farm with his life” when he died in Vietnam, but being dead doesn’t mean he’s going anywhere. Encountering someone who “sees” and “hears” him is a welcome change.

Cat’s determination leads her into danger, when they discover an adversary wants to turn the one-time dude ranch into a gravel pit.

Will a woman with a dream and a man who’s had his dreams cut short, manage to save a ranch and each other when the biggest surprise of all is love?


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​PART ONE ~ FEBRUARY 2019

CHAPTER ONE

Sullivan Barlow glanced from the handwritten—make that scribbled—disposition form in front of her to the typed version on the computer screen. She’d thought the high school students during her last practicum had crappy penmanship. So, did this guy. She squinted at the signature block again. Yes, it was Master Sergeant Tate Murphy. If she ever met him in person, she’d suggest he repeat third grade and learn cursive.
Oh, wait a minute. A lot of elementary schools no longer taught it. That couldn’t be the case with him. He had to be older than she was, and she learned it back in the day in Liberty Valley. So, she’d give him hell. She took a deep breath. No, she wouldn’t. She was a Sergeant First Class, an E-7, after all. She’d be polite and recommend he find a pharmacist to decipher his hieroglyphics.
Okay, it was official. She was definitely having a bad day. She pushed back from the desk and leaned down to rub her aching left leg. She’d worked in worse conditions than Major Harper’s office. For a moment, she remembered dust, sand, and overwhelming heat. Then, she shook her head.
No, Sully. Concentrate on the moment. Think about here and now.
The room was large with two desks facing each other. Weak February sunshine filtered through the mini-blinds on the windows to her right, laying patterns on the carpeted floor. The American flag stood neatly in the stand to her left, accompanied by the Washington state flag and the one for Fort Clark. Looking at the Stars and Stripes always reminded her of that last flight home and the tri-folded flag on her lap.
She choked on the rising lump in her throat. She’d sat and held that flag on her lap on the entire flight, refusing the meals and beverages the overly sympathetic flight attendants offered.
I wish things were different. I want a do-over. If I could only go back in time… Oh, Raven, I’m so sorry.
Sully closed her eyes for a moment, blinked hard before she focused on the computer screen again. She always tried to avoid glancing at the U.S. flag and the glassed-in bookcases behind the stand. File cabinets lined the wall that held the same door to the hall and the break room where she could find a cup of coffee. That was if she wanted to try walking that far when her ankle throbbed in its own rhythm, pressing against her combat boot.
Okay, she’d upgrade the day from being bad to officially sucking. Her leg hurt. She had a stack of reports from a moron to type. She repeated her mantra. Don’t complain, things can always be worse. At least nobody is trying to kill me.
“Haven’t you finished those reports yet? You’ve been typing for three days.”
Sully looked from the stack of paperwork to the blonde fashion plate in front of the desk. She was slipping. She should have heard the click of high heels in the hall before Anise Tyler, the civilian clerk in charge returned to the office. “It’d go faster if you helped instead of disappearing to the breakroom every hour.”
“Speaking of that, it’s a mess.” In a clinging light blue dress that matched her heels, the civilian liaison sauntered across to her desk and eased into the leather chair behind it. “I told Mr. Edwards you’d clean it up. You’ll find the mop in the utility closet at the end of the hall.”
“Excuse you.” Sully counted silently to ten, the advice one of the other sergeants in her company had given for dealing with idiots. It didn’t work this time. “You’re joking, right?”
“Do I look like it?” Anise smiled, but it didn’t touch her pale blue eyes. Pleasure filled the lovely face. “You can go clean it now. Then come back and finish those reports.”
“I don’t think so.” Sully rose to her feet, leaning on the desk for support and pinned Anise with an icy glare, hoping the other woman didn’t see the actual physical weakness in her stance. “Let me make one thing perfectly clear, Ms. Tyler. I am a Sergeant First Class. I’ve done three tours in the sandbox and I was reassigned here for light duty when they no longer needed me in the Finance section. I don’t scrub floors, wash windows, or take out your trash. I don’t give garbage. I don’t take garbage. I am not in the garbage business. I’ll do your correspondence. I won’t do your dirty work. Got it?”
The sound of slow applause drew Sully’s attention to the door and away from the sputtering woman on the other side of the room. A tall, dark-haired man in camouflage fatigues stood in the doorway. Oh crap, Sully thought. She was in for it now. She should have remembered she was here temporarily and controlled her temper, not actually told the full-time office manager where to go. Of course, there’d been an audience.
I never catch a break. What a hell of a time for the major to arrive.
From his smile to the dark blue of his eyes, she knew she’d seen that ruggedly handsome face before. Where? A memory fluttered. A deep voice rumbling with laughter, a strong hand reaching across her to pour two glasses of golden Chardonnay, a sweet wine kiss, then another, deeper. She shook her head. She was losing it. He was a stranger. He had to be a stranger. And he was a rude one too. He hadn't even come into the office. He just stood in the doorway staring at her like she was the most entertaining show in town.
“And you are?” Sully asked.
“Master Sergeant Murphy. Are you the person who has been transcribing my reports and emailing them back to me? I didn’t recognize your initials, ‘sb’.” His smile faded and he looked toward Anise. “You did check her security clearance before passing on my notes, didn’t you, Ms. Tyler?”
Red mottled under her makeup as Anise gulped for air. She hadn’t followed procedure and the three of them knew it.
Pity stirred in Sully and she cleared her throat. “I am qualified to type these bloody reports in every way, Master Sergeant Tate Murphy but I have to say it would be much easier if you’d learned to scribe a coherent hand.”

Josie Malone lives and works at her family business, a riding stable in Washington State. Teaching kids to ride and know about horses, she finds in many cases, she's taught three generations of families. Her life experiences span adventures from dealing cards in a casino, attending graduate school to get her Masters in Teaching degree, being a substitute teacher, and serving in the Army Reserve - all leading to her second career as a published author. Visit her at her website, www.josiemalone.com to learn about her books.


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What inspired you to write this book?
Family Skeletons is the third book in the Baker City Hearts & Haunts series and Tate Murphy, the
career soldier hero charmed me when his friends in More Than A Spirit, (book 2) repeated what he said, that if he wanted a wife, the Army would issue one to him. He met the heroine, Sullivan Barlow the night she buried her best friend who’d died in combat. Neither of them immediately realize they’re being haunted by Raven who plays “Cupid” for them.

What can we expect from you in the future?
More books in the Baker City Hearts and Haunts series ~ “Where love is real and so are the ghosts!” series as well as the Liberty Valley Love series ~ “Where no matter what, soulmates find each other!”

Do you have any “side stories” about the characters?
Raven became a stronger character than I anticipated, but she was always enjoyable especially when she began interacting with the town medium, Cat O’Leary McTavish. Today, Cat manages the ghosts who haunt Baker City and runs interference between the living and the dead. The town didn’t have a medium for a long time after her grandmother passed, but then Cat entered an essay contest and won Cedar Creek Guest Ranch. The last thing she expected was to discover the hero, Rob Williams, a soldier who died during the Vietnam War still “living” there. He was haunting his old family home and didn’t plan to leave. Their story is told in My Sweet Haunt, Baker City Hearts and Haunts – Book 1.

Can you tell us a little bit about the characters in Family Skeletons?
Both Tate and Sully grew during the story, especially the heroine who learns to “embrace the suck” as the hero says and that she doesn’t have to give up her best friend even if Raven isn’t what could be considered “real” any longer. Then again, what is “real”?

How did you come up with the concept and characters for the book?
Since this is the third book in the series, Tate and Sully were mentioned in the second book, More Than A Spirit. In that story, Ann Barrett, the heroine of More Than A Spirit, Baker City Hearts and Haunts – Book 2 rents a cabin at Cedar Creek Guest Ranch when she returns home from an Army combat tour. Because she doesn’t have a teaching position yet, Ann plans to work at the Army Reserve base in Seattle only to discover the job she wants went to a man instead. She considers this a minor issue. She’ll send him packing. However, he’s not alone. His long-time buddy provides ghostly system support and plays “Cupid” for these two stubborn, proud soldiers.

Where did you come up with the names in the story?
First, I created Baker City, a town in the Cascade foothills. The setting furthers the story. Since I also love western romance, Baker City has a complicated past. It’s been a logging town, a silver mining boom town, and a destination resort area when the Williams’ dude ranch outside of town was open for guests. This means most of the books include some of my favorite elements, ‘smart-mouthed kids, horses and puppies.’ As new people move into the town, it brings it back to life and the ghosts will tell you that it’s about time ~ they may be dead, but it doesn’t mean they are willing to exist in Limbo or an abandoned, mountain village. Then, I already knew some of the characters because they’d appeared in earlier stories. However, Tate’s family was a new addition to the town. Well, they’d been there for a long time. I just hadn’t introduced them before. Because Sully comes from Liberty Valley, my other series, she hadn’t visited before.

What did you enjoy most about writing this book?
Returning to Baker City and finding my old friends. I know they are fictional characters, but they seem like real people to me. One of my beta-readers who helped with information about Sully’s classic Mustang always finds it amusing to ask me questions about the characters and is amazed when I tell her the down and dirty facts. Of course, I had to remind her husband that the car wasn’t “real” when Sully and Raven painted it bright pink to keep their brothers from driving it. Then when it had “pink” spoked wheels, he almost lost it again.

Tell us about your main characters- what makes them tick?
Sully suffers from survival guilt, blaming herself because her best friend died. She wants forgiveness but doesn’t realize she hasn’t done anything wrong. Meanwhile, Tate must decide what comes after the Army. He’s been a soldier for 17 years and began to realize his own mortality, first when his father had a heart attack and then when a good friend died in combat. Now, he’s going to be a “daddy” – he just must convince Sully they have a future.

How did you come up with the title of your first novel?
When I wrote the first book in the series, the working title was Ghost Ranch, but my publisher told me she wanted one that would “sell” the story so my critique partner, Clare McKay came up with the first two titles in the series, My Sweet Haunt and More Than A Spirit. I thought the title, Family Skeletons captured the tone of Book 3 because Sully’s family has so much history and most of it was heartbreaking.

Who designed your book covers?
Lynsee Lauritsen does all my covers for Melange and I think she is absolutely amazing.

If you had to do it all over again, would you change anything in your latest book?
No! I always love the books when they’re finished. For now, the story is perfect. Of course, in ten years when I know more about writing and crafting stories, I’m sure some error will jump out at me.

Did you learn anything during the writing of your recent book?
“Moving on doesn’t mean forgetting,” is the theme of this book and I learned that when I was reading various chapters to my critique group. Because of the pandemic we meet on Zoom now and I hadn’t thought of that motif. However, it perfectly captured the story, so I had to include it.

If your book was made into a film, who would you like to play the lead?
Jennifer Lawrence and Sam Claflin. I could definitely see them kicking butt in a movie version.

Anything specific you want to tell your readers?
Here’s the back cover blurb:

Sergeant First Class Sullivan Barlow has plans for her future and none of them include the guy she slept with in a night of weakness. Intending to forget the devastation of losing her best friend in Afghanistan, Sully woke the next morning still alone. Her only solace ~ she hadn’t told the man her real name.
A career soldier, Tate Murphy has three more years in the Army until he’s eligible for retirement. Seven weeks ago, he met a woman in a hotel bar and spent the night with her. He hasn’t been able to get her out of his mind and can’t believe his luck when he finds her again.
Then they discover their first night together resulted in something they never expected. She’s pregnant and Tate immediately proposes. Pregnant, struggling with survivor guilt, the last thing Sully needs is to learn her best friend may have died, but hasn’t left yet.
Tate says, ‘sometimes courage is an act of survival’. Sully fears trust is a casualty of war. Will she and Tate ever find it again either by themselves or with the help of those who have passed on before?


How did you come up with the name of this book?
I originally thought the title would be Family Secrets, but it didn’t fit the series or the story. However, Family Skeletons captured the tone of Book 3 because Sully’s family has so much history and most of it was heartbreaking.

What is your favorite part of this book and why?
I love Sully especially when she says, “I don’t scrub floors, wash windows, or take out your trash. I don’t give garbage. I don’t take garbage. I am not in the garbage business. I’ll do your correspondence. I won’t do your dirty work. Got it?”

If you could spend time with a character from your book, who would it be? And what would you do during that day?
Ann and her best friend aren’t the only combat veterans who move to Baker City. In Family Skeletons, Baker City Hearts and Haunts – Book 3, Sullivan Barlow joins them. The three women are teachers, and they have dreams of changing and improving the world, one child at a time. They’ll have to come to terms with the original teacher in Baker City who doesn’t plan to leave her school yet. I’d love to spend more time with them at the school in Baker City and watch them teach the kids. After school, we’d go to Pop’s Café and have dinner.

Are your characters based off real people or did they all come entirely from your imagination?
They’re real people to me, but I made them up although they have elements of folks I’ve met during my life.

Do your characters seem to hijack the story, or do you feel like you have the reins of the story?
Often, I feel as though I’m just writing down what they tell me or what I see them do in Baker City or Liberty Valley. I’d like to think I’m in control, but truly the characters are.

Convince us why you feel your book is a must read.
These take-charge, fierce women warriors need heroes to match them and the men they love not only challenge them, but they also match them strength for strength. It’s Romance with a capital “R” and my heroines deserve men who love them, brooms, “flying monkeys” and all. That’s why I love romance, reading it, writing it, being it! And I’ll never stop.

Have you written any other books that are not published?
I just finished editing The Marshal’s Lady, Book 3 in the Liberty Valley Love series and Hero Spell, Book 4 in the same series. They’ll be coming out this spring and summer. The next two books haven’t been edited yet but should be out in 2021-2022 and I’m plotting book 7. I’m also working on the next book in the Baker City Hearts and Haunts series. Ghost of the Past will hopefully be out next January, but of course I need to finish it first. In addition, I write two young adult series, one for Melange’s teen line and one for Black Opal Books. I always have books I’m writing in one series or another.

What did you edit out of this book?
Mostly adverbs and other passive words that slowed the pace of the story. My editor told me I had to build up some missing elements so that meant putting more scenes into the book. Often, I need to add descriptive language because I can see the setting in my mind, but I forget to share it with readers.

Is there a writer which brain you would love to pick for advice? Who would that be and why?
Charlotte Paul. She wrote an old love story called, Wild Valley about life in the olden days of Washington State. 1893 Snoqualmie Valley isn’t the easiest place to live but her heroine is a survivor who manages to find her “Happy Ever After” despite all the challenges she faces. This was one of my grandmother’s favorite books and she always encouraged me to write the best story I could, similar to what Paul accomplished.

Fun Facts/Behind the Scenes/Did You Know?'-type tidbits about the author, the book or the writing process of the book.
I wish I could spend my day writing. Living on the family farm means my day starts in the barn and ends there. 26 horses can’t take care of themselves. I’m feeding, watering, mucking, grooming, and saddling up. During the summer, I normally do horse day camp, trail rides, lessons, leasing, and pony rides. In the barns, I think about my latest project. Who is doing what to whom? What happens next in my latest story?


I finally hit my computer about 8PM and write directly into the word processor. I’ll write till midnight or later. Get up the next day and start all over again. I love writing, but I’ll admit some days I am too tired to do more than think about it. When I return to my computer, I love getting words on the page.


Because of the Covid-19 restrictions, the work is the same, but I have fewer students. Usually, they ride three days a week, but horse care is always seven days a week. Because it’s a beginner stable – that means it caters to beginning level students – they need constant supervision. It also means I help the veterinarian on those visits and the shoer or farrier’s when he visits to trim hooves trimmed. I always keep carrots on hand.


​

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