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My new audiobook, narrated by the amazing Don Warrick, is out! Take a listen to the five-minute voice clip and I think you'll find yourself at the edge of your seat!

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I'm so excited to share the news with you! My new series, Ash Suspense Thrillers with a Dash of Romance, is hitting the shelves with two books: Coma Confidential and Virtually Lace.

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Wearing a midnight-blue avant-garde sequin cocktail dress with a plunging v-neckline and no jewelry except for pearl stud earrings, she looked stunning. Her lips glistened into a smile when he touched his nose to hers, coming into a kiss, almost--

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Michael had programmed his code to eliminate the view of all things blue, so that the virtual environment would be projected in their place—but this time, the result amazed him. He rubbed his eyes. Coming towards him, Ash seemed bodiless. Her midnight-blue dress was nearly invisible, which allowed the virtual seascape to glimmer as it rolled gradually through it, right up to the hint of her cleavage.
“You did forget about me,� she said, with a touch of amusement in her voice. “Didn’t you?�

To read more and listen to the beautiful narration by Don Warrick, click here:

Here was the scene he had come to know so well, the scene of the murder. Virtually like a wave it came, with digitized droplets washing down over him, settling into place amidst the blue walls of the garage, with the jagged tock formation in the center of it all, framed by papery waves--

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While I was writing Virtually Lace from the point of view of my protagonist, Michael, I became engaged with his girlfriend, Ash, who helps him solve a murder mystery. As soon as the book was published, Ash took over and started telling me an earlier chapter of her life, when she was in coma, listening to her visitors in the ER. One of them is Michael. Is he connected, in some way, to the crime that put her in the hospital?

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Sitting down, Michael found himself swallowed up into an overstuffed leather armchair. His palms were clammy, which forced him to wipe them off on his pants under the table. In its burnished top, the president’s reflection slid across the surface, upside down--

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