Preorder now at: https://www.boldstrokesbooks.com/books/return-to-mccall-by-patricia-evans-4143-b Return to McCall Chapter One   A spicy waft of cinnamon enveloped Sam Draper as she opened the door of Moxie Java, cradling the phone between her face and shoulder as she searched her jacket pocket for her wallet. “I’m here now, babe, and it smells like they have those amazing …

For a long time now, fans have asked for a recent picture, and here it is. In the winter especially I go days without seeing anyone else, so trust me, I’m usually a bit of a mess… I’m always thinking about the book I’m writing, it plays like a movie and I’m thankful because it …

Top Ten Questions I Get About Being A Writer. . I get quite a few questions from curious readers, which I love, and although the query itself tends to vary, the theme is consistent. What is it really like to be a writer? So I thought I’d put the main handful of questions that I …

Adel Rosse wedged her luggage into the cramped glass vestibule in the Lockwood Planned Parenthood in upstate New York, her laptop bag slipping from her shoulder to dangle from the crook of her arm as she pressed the entry buzzer. For the third time. “Yes?” Adel glanced around for the camera she knew would be …

Aisling parked her convertible under the stars and started up the steep stone staircase leading to Dalwart Abbey, a fifteenth-century Scottish monastery perched at the tip of the cliffs jutting out over the Atlantic Ocean. The moon hovered like liquid silver over the sea as she climbed, and as she got to the top and …

I felt the scrape of my own whisper against the brick walls of the alley. …Be brave.  A group of people pass as I bite my lip and turn back toward the wall, the air around them soaked in rum vapor and the penetrating haze of heat that hovers over Havana. …Live an unusual life. Four minutes …

It’s not a fucking shock. I’m the turn of the page…Not the fairytale.  Why didn’t I take my own advice? The fairytale is a myth. At least for me.  You’ll find this truth in an earlier entry on this site; perhaps you’ve already read it. I knew this, roughly two and a half years ago, and …

She was drinking a martini, relatively dirty, nothing crazy. Another writing conference, dry as church dust, and the most interesting part of it was clinking against the glass in my hand. I bought her another when I went to get my own, and she didn’t say thank you. Just pulled me with her eyes from …

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Chapter One Parker Haven wound her way through the brick streets, the early autumn rain lifting the wet stone scent of the cobblestones to her nose as she turned to avoid the crush of bodies coming toward her. The backstreets of Salerno were always crowded, but this morning there was a throng of people pressing …