Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Book Spotlight & Giveaway
Welcome! Today I have with me author Casey Clifford, who's giving away a FREE copy of her book, An Island No More.
College professor Maggie Meehan thinks she can tackle any challenge alone, but when an old flame returns to campus he puts her career--and her heart--in jeopardy...
With a daughter to support, Maggie wants the job security that comes from achieving college tenure. The likelihood of that lessens when Seth Baldwin, a man from her past, arrives on campus with tenure and a hefty salary. Sparks blaze between them that have nothing to do with their careers and everything to do with their hearts.
When Maggie's abusive ex-husband shows up making demands and a disturbed student hassles her, Maggie wants to tough it out on her own. But when a series of murders rocks the campus and Maggie is threatened and even assaulted, Seth refuses to let her face the ordeal alone. Can Seth's love strengthen Maggie enough to overcome a killer bent on her destruction?
“Great last question, Professor Meehan.”
“Thanks. Humor makes a test easier.” Maggie smiled, put the last exam in her folder, and left the building. The sun had broken through the overcast, and blue skies encircled frothy gray-white clouds. Crisp air invigorated her as she started down the less used walkway between her building and administration.
She made the turn, bringing her to a grove of trees on one side of the path and a stretch of prairie on the other. A flock of geese honked directly above. She looked up—they were headed south, a sign of winter. As she looked away, she caught motion in her peripheral vision and heard rasping swishes of dry grass. Then someone grappled her.
Leathery, satiny-smooth. Massive—those adjectives registered as she landed on the ground with a thud. Fireworks exploded behind her eyelids. Her back shrieked in protest, then spasmed in pain. Papers flying, her hands flailed upward to hit, gouge, pinch. Her attacker shucked off her feeble attempts. He wasn’t vulnerable; she was.
Guttural laughing greeted her pathetic defense. Lying on the ground she glanced upward. No face, just an opaque black helmet. Then a black-gloved hand smashed her jaw. Her world burst with stars, dimmed, then exploded with pain.
A black leather boot stomped her chest, grinding down, pushing against her ribs. It hurt to breathe. Struggling to open her eyes, she glimpsed the shiny hilt of a knife strapped on her assailant’s thigh.
“Oh no,” she mewled, fear threading her voice. Her legs paralyzed with sharp pains radiating down them. Black gloved hands, holding a club, loomed above her. Fear snapped her eyes wide. She would die here—in a few moments. Alone. Because she ignored the rules. Was this what other victims thought? Had they ignored the rules?