Do you remember when we held a contest to name Healey's Cave? We had so much fun. I had originally entitled the first book in Moore Mysteries The Green Marble, because, after all, that little glowing piece of glass was the common feature that would tie all the books together. But my publisher opted for Healey's Cave, and I'm delighted to report that the title has done the book justice, it seems. We've been gathering awards this year like mad, and I'm just so happy to see that folks like the story. Here are some of the cool awards Healey's Cave has won:
WINNER 2012 EPIC Book Awards, BEST Paranormal * WINNER 2011 Eric Hoffer BEST Book, COMMERCIAL FICTION * FINALIST Global eBook Awards 2011
If you miss that little green marble, now you can visit with it again in the sequel to Healey's Cave, Terror Comes Knocking. We also held a contest for this title, remember? I had originally entitled it One Potato, Blue Potato, because of an underlying theme that really matched the concept of potatoes not of the "usual" color. But my publisher wanted to focus on the idea that this story really was about terrorism hitting Sam Moore's little country village of Conaroga, NY, so we chose Terror Comes Knocking, thanks to reader Don Harman from Charlotte, NC.
The sequel is now out, and if you'd like to take a peek at it, here's an excerpt as well as a link to the audio book sample which will be out in a month or so.
Sam stood over his brother’s grave. A curious combination of sorrow and liberation flitted through him. Like a tapestry of death, its weave created patterns of loss and love that gutted his soul, twisting him inside.
The agony of grieving again for his little brother had hit him hard. Although he’d mourned in stages since Billy disappeared fifty years ago, he’d never had closure. Until now. A week ago, his three best childhood friends admitted to burying Billy’s body in the pool near Healey’s cave. When the boy had slipped from the crossing log and slammed his head in a lethal fall, they’d panicked, afraid of being charged with murder. Their childish fears escalated, and they’d pinned Billy beneath heavy stones, his eyes wide open and dulled, hair waving in the water, skin wrinkled like prunes.
Sam shook himself.
Stop it. Stop torturing yourself.
He glanced at his SUV sitting under the shade a hundred yards away, its four doors gaped open to provide relief from the heat. With her motorized scooter parked alongside, his wife of forty years, Rachel, perched sideways on the passenger seat, a cell phone clamped to her ear. Their grandson Evan rhythmically tossed and caught a softball nearby. They’d accompanied him to the gravesite and had left after his request for a few minutes alone.
To think. To stare at the earth. To remember that the physical markers of Billy’s young life were just that. Placeholders. Reminders. Cold ground and stone.
Someone else’s funeral on the nearby hill ended, and its mourners scattered like dandelion feathers in the wind. Sam watched them drift toward the parking lot for a moment, and turned back to the grave.
He fingered the green marble in his pocket and looked up to the cirrus clouds that stalled overhead. Chalk white against a steel gray sky, they paused in their frenetic journey as if trying to get his attention.
I know you’re not really in the ground, Billy. I know you’re up there.
The cottonwood leaves rustled overhead, stirring in a breeze that came from out of nowhere.
The marble warmed his fingers in response—his talisman, his connection with Billy’s spirit. He closed his hand around it so the people walking by wouldn’t see the glow of green blushing through his khakis.
The marble pulsed. Sam’s heart skipped a beat....
Thanks for taking the time to read a little today. I hope you all have a wonderful weekend, and if you read the above book(s), let me know what you think in the comments, below, okay?
Warmest wishes to all,