Summer 2014 Newsletter

10312579_10152357221103326_361961938920997917_nIf you’re not signed up for my author newsletter, you don’t know what’s up with this donkey! CLICK HERE!! to find out.

My latest newsletter is filled with info about new books, recent awards, and coming stuff, including a giveaway of my new book STUCKEY’S LEGACY. I’m giving the book away this Saturday, before it is available to the public, so pop over and enter. CLICK HERE!!

If you want to sign up for my newsletter, you can do so at the top of the newsletter page. CLICK HERE!! I promise I will never give away or sell your email address, and you can unsubscribe at any time with one click of your mouse. Also, I won’t fill up your inbox with junk. I’m definitely unorganized when it comes to putting together newsletters, so I only send three or four a year, if I remember to do so. 🙂

If you don’t want to sign up but would like to see the latest newsletter and enter to win my new book, you can do that, too. See? We’re easy around here. Simply CLICK HERE!!

50 self-published books worth reading 2013/14

Indie Author Land is hosting “50 Self-published Books Worth Reading in 2013/14.

elly cover_webMy book ELLY HAYS made the short list!!!!

Please vote the old girl into the finals in the literary category…and check out the other books on the list. Some are great books, written by very dear friends, but don’t vote for them. LOL! You can vote 5 times.

Click here to vote and THANK YOU! I owe you a marshmallow peep.

If you’d like to know more about the book, look under “my books” at the top of this page.

 

 

 

Saturday Snippet – Savannah’s Bluebird

bluebird_small webHere’s a snippet from my brand new book, Savannah’s Bluebird.

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She strolled down to the beach of Lake Pontchartrain and found a quiet spot on the bank. She stared at the ripples of water lapping the shore, mesmerized by the sound, which was accompanied by seabirds whistling and cawing as they flew overhead. She closed her eyes and let the sounds wash over her, attempting to block out the awful world she now lived in. The noise of someone clearing her throat interrupted Savannah’s reverie. She looked around and saw an old woman emerging from the tree line behind her. The woman was covered in layers of bright and ornate scarves and wraps that curled around her in the breeze. Her dark red hair was in a bun on top of her head, but stringy ringlets dripped around her face and neck, tangling themselves in her large hoop earrings.

“I thought I’d find you here.” The old woman cackled as she approached.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. You must have me confused with someone else. Do I know you?”

“No, I don’t have you confused with anyone else, dear, and no, you don’t know me.” The old woman had a bulge of tobacco in her cheek, and she spit some sweet-smelling brown juice on the dirt.

Savannah started to rise to leave, made uncomfortable by the weird old woman.

“No, chavi, you need to stay and speak with me. I came down here from Biloxi because I have a gift for you here in my bujo.”

“Your bujo?”

The woman held up her large bag.

Savannah reluctantly sat back down, now curious about the woman.

“You’re from Biloxi?”

“No, dear, I’m from New Orleans, but I’ve lived in Biloxi a few years.” The woman plopped down next to her and began digging deep into the bag. She fished around for a long time and eventually pulled out a small object wrapped in a dirty handkerchief. She looked at it strangely for a moment, and then held it toward Savannah, who did not reach for it.

“Here.” She thrust it into Savannah’s chest. “This is for you. Take it.”

“I’m sure I don’t need any gifts, ma’am.”

“Just open it. It’s baxtalo. You would say…lucky.” She placed it in Savannah’s hand.

Savannah stared at the handkerchief and didn’t move.

“Open it,” the crone demanded.

Savannah placed it on her lap and tried to touch the filthy handkerchief as little as possible as she unfolded it to reveal a small blue object made of glass. She held it up between her thumb and forefinger and saw it was a two-inch-tall bluebird. She turned and awaited an explanation from the old woman.

“I knew you’d like it.” The woman smiled through missing teeth. She twisted her chin to the side and spit more tobacco juice onto the ground.

“But why?”

“I know you’ve had a difficult time since coming here, and I thought this would make you feel better.” The woman turned and stared at the water. Her expression grew solemn and she continued speaking without looking at Savannah. “Fate may not be kind to you, young lady, and you will need this item to face your future.”

“Ma’am, I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, you don’t, do you? Tell me about Thomas Blakely.”

“What?”

“Your father.”

“What do you know about my father?”

“I met him about fifteen years ago…right here on this very beach.” She thumbed a direction over her shoulder. “Right over there at a little watering hole I worked at. He was courting your mother at the time.” She smiled. “I was young then, too, and I must admit, he was a handsome man, and I had eyes for him as well. He was working on those railroad tracks my people destroyed. They were angry that the train was going to go through their homes. I don’t mean near their homes, I mean right through the middle of them. My people have always lived off the land, not in those fancy houses like you live in. It was because of us that your father was here working at the time. It was because of us he met your mother, so I guess it was because of us that you were born.” She paused and kept staring at the small wavelets. “He sure was a handsome man. Too bad he wasn’t one of us.”

“You’re a gypsy.”

The woman nodded.

“Do you live on the beach in Biloxi?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes I live here.”

Savannah looked down at the glass object in her hand. “You’re the one who told my father the bluebird story.”

“Yes, child, I am.” She turned toward Savannah. “The bluebird is magical, and it can do some surprising things.”

“Yes, my father told me.”

The woman didn’t acknowledge her comment. “Sadly, I didn’t plan on him seeing the bluebird while he was with your mother. I was hoping he would see it while he was with…oh, never mind about that. Things happen and life goes on. We all have our own private destiny to live out, even if it affects others.”

Savannah stared at the woman’s face, realizing the woman wasn’t as old as she initially looked. She carried herself like an old woman, but there wasn’t a crease on her face, not a wrinkle around her eyes or lips. She was actually quite pretty in an exotic way.

“So, you were friends with my father?”

“You could say that.”

Savannah didn’t like the cryptic answer. Did this woman love her father? Was the bluebird story a spell to make her father fall in love?

“Tell me about August.”

A shiver went up Savannah’s spine. “How do you know about August?”

“I know everything, child. I know the past, the present”—she looked Savannah in the eyes—“and the future.”

“Are you a fortune teller?”

The woman shrugged. “No, I am no drabarni—fortune teller, as you say.” She spit again and shrugged. “Some people call me a witch, but I’m no witch, either. I just know things. Some people around here call it voodoo, but it’s not voodoo. My people come from a faraway land and some of us have special gifts.”

The woman slowly climbed to her feet with a few grunts and groans. She leaned forward a bit, half hunched as if her back was aching. Her scarves blew wildly around her head as the wind picked up, giving her a mysterious aura. She looked like a witch.

“I will tell you one thing before I go. My son, Bernard, and your August will meet someday, and you will need that little bluebird when the time comes. Keep it close to you. Remember the magic your father told you of the bluebird, and know that this one holds even more power than the story. It is a mulevi. It will make your deepest wish come true if only you will ask. But be careful how you use it, and don’t use it frivolously. You will know beyond a shadow of a doubt when the time comes, and it will be the most powerful thing you will ever witness.”

“What’s a mulevi?”

“An item to reach the dead.”

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Lori Crane Books at Amazon

#Hashtags for #Writers

twitbirdHASHTAGS ROCK MY WORLD!

Here’s a huge list for you authors on Twitter. It was compiled by a bunch of people, and I compiled it further. Print it out and enjoy!

 

 

 

 

BASIC WRITING STUFF

  • #AmWriting
  • #AmEditing
  • #AmRevising
  • #Author
  • #Authors
  • #AuthorLife
  • #BookMarket (Thursday’s at 4 pm ET)
  • #CopyWriting
  • #EditGoal
  • #Editing
  • #ePubChat
  • #IndieAuthors
  • #LitChat (every M/W/F)
  • #MemoirChat (every other Wednesday at 8 pm ET)
  • #NaNoWriMo
  • #PBLitChat (picture books only)
  • #PoetTues
  • #ScriptChat
  • #TenQueries
  • #WordCount
  • #WriteGoodNews
  • #Writer
  • #Writers
  • #WriteChat
  • #WriterWednesday (or #WW or ##WW)
  • #WritersLife
  • #WritersRoad
  • #Writing
  • #WritingBlitz
  • #WritingParty
  • #WroteToday
  • #YALitChat
  • #ZineChat

BOOK GENRE

  • #amreading
  • #Biopic
  • #Book
  • #Comedy
  • #Cookbooks
  • #Cooking
  • #Crime
  • #DarkFantasy
  • #Dystopian
  • #Erotica
  • #KidLitChat
  • #FanFic
  • #Fiction
  • #FlashFic
  • #Food
  • #Historical
  • #History
  • #HistFic
  • #HistNovel
  • #Horror
  • #KidLit
  • #Literature
  • #LitFic
  • #MGLit (Middle Grade Lit)
  • #MemoirChat
  • #Mystery
  • #NonFiction
  • #Novel
  • #Paperbacks
  • #Paranormal
  • #Recipes
  • #Regency
  • #RomanceWriter
  • #Romance
  • #Romantic
  • #RomanticSuspense
  • #RWA (Romance Writers of America)
  • #SCBWI (Society of Children’s Books Writers and Illustrators)
  • #Science #Fiction
  • #ScienceFiction
  • #SciFi
  • #SciFiChat
  • #Short
  • #ShortStories
  • #Short #Stories
  • #ShortReads
  • #ShortStory
  • #SteamPunk
  • #Suspense
  • #TrueStories
  • #UrbanFantasy
  • #WomensFiction
  • #YA

INDUSTRY INFO

  • #AskAgent
  • #AskAuthor
  • #AskEditor
  • #BookMarketing
  • #EBooks
  • #ePub
  • #ePublishing
  • #GetPublished
  • #HowTo
  • #IAN1 (Independent Author Network)
  • #Indie
  • #IndieAuthor
  • #IndiePub
  • #IndiePublishing
  • #IndiePubChat
  • #PromoTip
  • #Publishing
  • #Pubtip
  • #PubWrite
  • #SelfPub
  • #SelfPublishing
  • #VSS (very short story)
  • #WebFic
  • #WebLit
  • #WritingTip
  • #WriteTip
  • #WLCauthor (World Literary Cafe)

 

CONNECT WITH WRITERS

  • #AmWriting
  • #AmEditing
  • #EHFA (English historical fiction authors)
  • #WordCount
  • #WriterWednesday
  • #WritersLife
  • #YALitChat
  • #LitChat (every M/W/F)
  • #MemoirChat (every other Wednesday at 8 pm ET)
  • #BookMarket (Thursday’s at 4 pm ET)
  • #ScriptChat (Screenwriters)
  • #PoetTues
  • #ZineChat
  • #WritingParty
  • #IndieAuthors
  • #WriteChat
  • #NaNoWriMo
  • #PBLitChat (Picture books only)
  • #Tweets4authors

 

CREATIVE JUICES

  • #1K1H (one thousand words one hour)
  • #140Poem
  • #Creativity
  • #StoryStarter
  • #WIP (work in progress)
  • #WordAThon
  • #WriteGoal
  • #WriteMotivation
  • #WritersBlock
  • #WritingPrompt
  • #WritingSprint

CONNECT WITH READERS

  • #99c
  • #99cents
  • #Amazon
  • #AmazonKindle
  • #AmazonLikes
  • #AmazonPrime
  • #AmReading
  • #BestRead
  • #BookBuzz
  • #BookBuzzr
  • #BookGiveaway
  • #BookMarketing
  • #BookReview
  • #Books
  • #BookSpotlight
  • #BookWorm
  • #Borrow
  • #eBook
  • #eReaders
  • #ff (Friday Follow)
  • #Free
  • #Freebie
  • #FreeBook
  • #FreeDownload
  • #FictionFriday
  • #FictionFridays
  • #FridayFlash
  • #FridayReads
  • #GoodReads
  • #GreatRead
  • #IndieThursday
  • #IndieTuesday
  • #iPad
  • #KDP
  • #KDPSelect
  • #Kindle
  • #KindleBargain
  • #KindleBooks
  • #KindleeBooks
  • #KindleFire
  • #KindleTouch
  • #KindleTweet
  • #Kobo
  • #LendingLibrary
  • #LitChat
  • #MustRead
  • #MyWANA (We Are Not Alone writer’s group)
  • #New
  • #Nook
  • #Novel
  • #Novelines (to quote your own work)
  • #Novelists
  • #Novels
  • #Paperbacks
  • #Poetry
  • #PoetryMonth
  • #Pubit
  • #Read
  • #Reader
  • #Readers
  • #Reading
  • #Reviews
  • #SampleSunday
  • #SeriesBooks
  • #ShortReads
  • #Smashwords
  • #Sony
  • #Special
  • #StoryFriday
  • #StoryTelling
  • #TeaserTuesday or #TeaserTues
  • #GreatReads
  • #WhatToRead
  • #WriteQuote
  • #WeekendReader
  • #WLC (World Literary Cafe)
  • #WLCbookbuzz
  • #Wordathon

PROMOTE, NETWORK, MARKET

  • #ASMSG (authors social media support group)
  • #AuthorRT (author’s retweet group)
  • #BYNR (book your next read)
  • #CR4U (clean reads for you)
  • #FollowFriday
  • #free or #freebie
  • #FreebieFriday
  • #FreeReads
  • #HSFCA (historical fiction authors retweet group)
  • #IAN1 (Indie author network)
  • #IARTG (indie author retweet group)
  • #RT
  • #Share
  • #WLCauthor (World Lit Cafe)
  • kinds of books – #Kindle #Nook #ebook #paperback #epub #amazon #kdp #audiobook #audible #trailer #excerpt #pdf1

Goodreads Giveaway of “Stuckey’s Bridge”

Stuckey's cover_webIn preparation for the coming release of “Stuckey’s Legacy: The Legend Continues”, Goodreads is hosting a giveaway of the first book, “The Legend of Stuckey’s Bridge.” There are 20 paperbacks available and the drawing runs through April 10th. Hop over there and claim your FREE copy. Here’s the link —> GOODREADS GIVEAWAY!

Here’s the blurb and the creepy book trailer…

In 1901, the Virginia Bridge & Iron Company began re-building a fifty-year-old Mississippi bridge. In the middle of the project, they began discovering bodies buried on the banks of the river.

Legend has it, he was so evil, he was even thrown out of the notorious Dalton Gang. Years later, he opened an inn near the river, and on foggy nights, boatmen witnessed him pacing back and forth across the bridge, waving his lantern, offering travelers a hot meal and a soft bed.

Those unfortunate enough to take him up on the hospitality were often never seen again.

To this day, eerie experiences are still reported around the bridge that now bears his name, but not much else is known about the man locals refer to as Old Man Stuckey…until now.

Book cover and video trailer by Elite Book Design

Saturday Snippet – Okatibbee Creek

okatibbee_cover frontIt’s been a while since I posted a snippet. The following is from my book Okatibbee Creek. The heroine of the story is my 3rd great grandmother. She barely survived the Civil War and typhoid running rampant through her family. In this scene, the war is over and disease has passed, she is older and having a discussion with the slave who raised her.

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I look up and see Bertie slowly walking up the road toward daddy’s house. She’s wearing a dark blue dress and a floppy straw hat covering her eyes.

“Hi, Miss Bertie,” I yell to her as I wipe away my tears and put a smile on my face.

“Hi, baby girl.” She waves back.

“What brings you out on this lovely morning?” I ask when she finally reaches the porch and plops down on the step. She takes off her hat and reveals her gray hair tied in a bun. She sets her hat next to her and wipes beads of sweat off her forehead with her handkerchief.

“I was just on my way to your house to see the babies and to see how you are doing,” she says as she tucks her handkerchief back into her sleeve.

I can tell by her demeanor that there is something more on her mind, but I figure she will tell me when she is ready.

“Well, it’s nice to see you. We are all doing fine at home,” I reply.

“That’s good to hear, baby girl.”

“Bertie, I’m forty-one years old. How long are you going to call me baby girl?” I tease her.

She laughs. “You have been my baby girl since I came to your daddy’s house when you were six years old. You will always be my baby girl.”

“Aw, you know I love you, Miss Bertie.” I reach over and pat her bony hand.

“And I love you, too, baby girl. You know, you have always been the smartest and most beautiful of your momma’s children. And with everything you have been through, you have become the strongest and most courageous woman I have ever known.”

She pauses and looks out across the yard as her mind wanders to another time and place. After a moment she adds, “Your momma and daddy would be very proud of you, but it was a blessing they were not around to witness all the pain and loss we went through.” She pauses again and looks out across the yard. “You’re also a wonderful mother.”

I can tell she’s leading up to something.

“I don’t know what I would have done without you, Bertie. You helped me through so much.”

“I know what you went through, baby girl. I witnessed it all. I have seen you stand strong in the face of disaster and death and sickness and hunger. You have faced every adversity with courage and every defeat with dignity and grace. I’m very proud of you, more than you’ll ever know.”

My eyes well up with tears as I feel a mixture of being touched by her kind words, and trepidation that she is going somewhere awful with this talk.

“Bertie, your love has been one of the reasons I have been able to be strong and steadfast. Together, we have laughed and cried through so much,” I say as I stare straight ahead at the field.

Memories come flooding back, along with the sadness and the happiness. Rice, Daddy, Momma, Monroe Franklin. I shake the memories off and look back at Bertie.

“I have the feeling you weren’t headed all the way to my house just to tell me you’re proud of me.” I stop and wait for her to speak.

“Well, baby girl, like I said, you have always been the smartest of your momma’s children.” She takes a deep breath and exhales. I wait patiently as I watch her build up her courage. “Well, I have not been feeling very well lately and I saw the doctor. He said he can’t do much for me and I may not be around much longer. You know I have raised Tony as my own since his parents died of the fever. He’s only thirteen and not quite ready to face the world on his own just yet.” She looks away. I can tell she is trying to get through this speech without crying. Finally, she turns to me and looks me straight in the eye. “I want to ask you to take care of Tony when my time comes. I can rest easy if I know you will do that for me.”

“What? Bertie, of course I will take care of Tony. But I don’t want to hear anything about you being gone. We’ve been through too much together and everything finally seems to be turning around for the better.” I pause, wondering if that is really true. Is everything going to be all right?

I continue, “We’ve walked straight through the midst of hell and we are just now starting to find our way back.”

“I hope you’re right, baby girl, but we can’t control what the good Lord wants to do. We just have to handle it the best we can when it comes.”

I nod and quietly say, “Bertie, I will do whatever you need me to do.”

“I know you will, baby girl. I just thought it would be nice to ask.” She winks at me.

Using both arms to lift herself, Bertie slowly rises from the step. I stand up, too, and she gives me a long hug. She puts her hat on and carefully steps away from the porch, heading toward the dirt road. I yell “goodbye” to her and she waves her hand behind her head without turning around. She walks very, very slowly, favoring one leg more than the other, and I watch her until she shuffles out of sight.

**********************************************

Lori Crane Books at Amazon and on audiobook at Audible.

To be inspiring!

Being inspiring for other’s creativity is so awesome… as I usually struggle with my own.

Here are a couple nuggets inspired by my book The Legend of Stuckey’s Bridge. Granted, I didn’t create the legend, but I’m happy to have brought it back to life and more than thrilled that others have been touch by the book enough to put their time and talents to it.

The first is a folk song written by Kris Carmichael.

The second is a blog post at Lowry Wilson’s page along with his conceptual photography you just have to check out.

It’s a little creep, no? 🙂

5-star review for ELLY HAYS!

Readers’ Favorite is one of my favorite sites. Click HERE to visit them. If you look down the left side of their page, you will find the genre of books you like and can spend hours and hours looking at great reviews of books. The site is a gem! One of their reviewers, Brenda Casto, gave my book ELLY HAYS a 5-star review! I’m tickled!! Here’s the LINK if you’d like to read it on their site or it is copied and pasted below. ELLY HAYS is the third book in the Okatibbee Creek series, but the books do not need to be experienced in order. Writing about Elly was very dear to me as she is my 5th great grandmother. She was one amazing woman! ♥

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elly cover_webReviewed by Brenda Casto for Readers’ Favorite

Elly Hays is a story that takes place in the early 1800s. The book opens with a speech from Tecumseh urging the Creek Village that lives in the Mississippi Territory where Tafv and his son live to join forces and go to war against the white man. But many of the Creek have started adopting the white man’s ways, even marrying their women, so Tafv is torn about how to handle the problem. Meanwhile in Tennessee, James Rodgers has heard about cheap government land in Creek territory and convinces his wife Elly to move their eleven children there. When they arrive, they are faced with aggravation from the Creek, because Tafv’s plan is to run them off instead of killing them, hoping that they will go away and tell other whites how difficult it is to live on Creek land. The Rodgers are a tenacious bunch, though, and don’t go easily. But when Tafv’s only son is killed, he vows to seek revenge against the Rodgers.

Elly Hays by Lori Crane is a rare gem because it’s a fictionalized story based on a real family that lived during the 1800s. What makes it so unique is the way Ms. Crane portrayed the Indians in this story. Instead of portraying them as savages, she allows us to glimpse them as real people with real feelings, who grieve over losses just as the white man did. Tafv was a brave warrior, but more than that he was a caring individual that felt hurt and grieved deeply for those he lost. She provides insight into the plight that the Native Americans must have felt during this time period as they desperately tried to figure out a way to hold onto their way of life. Unfortunately, the Rodgers family found themselves in the middle of this struggle. Smoothly written, the chapters easily transition between Elly and her family and the issues with Tafv and his clan. Ms. Crane really did her research because she provides rich detail that truly allows the reader to feel as if they are part of the time she is describing. A historically rich tale where there are really no bad guys. Instead the author allowed me to see both sides. The epilogue and author notes added to this story in my opinion because it allowed me to learn what happened after the story. Historical fiction where there is plenty of truth woven in made Elly Hays a page-turning read for me.

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Lori Crane Books at Amazon

STUCKEY’S LEGACY Sneak Peek

As I was writing “The Legend of Stuckey’s Bridge,” I came across the most amazing fictional character. He is eccentric, charming, rich, and good looking, mixed with a heaping tablespoon of psychopath. I am completely obsessed with him and his story. What if someone in the story is not as impressed with him as I? What if that person would rather see him dead?

unnamedThere is an undeniable sequel to “The Legend of Stuckey’s Bridge”  – “Stuckey’s Legacy: The Legend Continues” – available June 1st in paperback, Kindle, Nook, and iBook.

For my dear friends and faithful readers, here’s a sneak peek. It will give you a flavor of my new favorite psycho Levi.

*************************************************

December 31, 1911 11:59 p.m.

“…five…four…three…two…one…Happy New Year!” the crowd chanted in unison and the orchestra began to play “Auld Lang Syne.” Balloons fell from the ceiling and confetti was tossed from the mezzanine. It fluttered to the floor, covering couples who clung together on the ballroom’s massive dance floor. Wine flowed and lovers kissed, and twenty-two-year-old Levi stood off to the side, sipping his champagne, observing the festivities with a mixture of apathy and loathing.

A gentleman in a crumpled tuxedo, heading toward the bar, staggered by him and nodded. Levi coldly nodded back, hoping the intoxicated man wouldn’t stop to chat. He was here to observe and mingle, not to spend the evening listening to a slurring drunkard. It had taken him a decade to get into this elite circle and he wasn’t going to let some sot spoil it. He downed the remaining liquid, plopped his empty champagne glass on the nearest table, and quickly moved across the room.

Following a magnificent dinner of pheasant and turkey in the Grand Dining Room, he had thus far spent the evening strolling around the luxurious Jekyll Island Club, chatting with people with familiar surnames—Firestone, Carnegie, Rockefeller, Vanderbilt. He introduced himself to them as Levi Temple, a business partner of the late Cornelius Bliss.

Temple wasn’t his real name, though he had been using it for the last ten years. Most people in his hometown of Meridian, Mississippi, would remember him as Levi Stuckey, the boy who’d mysteriously disappeared following the hanging of his father from the iron rails of Stuckey’s Bridge. His father was Thomas Stuckey. He wasn’t Levi’s real father, but when someone back in those days assumed he was, Levi never bothered to correct them. As a matter of fact, Stuckey wasn’t that man’s real name, either. He took it from one of his victims, a man named Carter Stuckey. Carter Stuckey had spent the night at Thomas’s inn on his way to deliver a trunk to Vicksburg—a trunk full of gold. Not many visitors ever left that inn, especially visitors who carried great wealth. Carter Stuckey fit that description, meeting his demise for being a deliveryman. Thomas Stuckey never got to enjoy the gold he stole, though. He was strung up for murder before he even viewed the sparkling contents of the trunk.

Following Thomas’s hanging, twelve-year-old Levi disappeared with the trunk. He took a horse and wagon and rode away from Meridian with the trunk, and he didn’t leave a trace.

After he fled, he dropped the name Stuckey so he’d never be associated with Thomas, Carter, or the missing trunk of gold. He considered taking back his given name, but he didn’t want to be linked to the sack of crap who owned that name, either. It had been so long since he’d used his real name, he could barely remember what it was. So, after a quick deliberation, he took the name of the only man he’d ever trusted, the sheriff of Lauderdale County—J.R. Temple. Yes, Temple was a good name, a good name from a good man. Levi always felt a tinge of remorse for disappearing and leaving Sheriff Temple to wonder what happened to him, but at the time he didn’t have a choice. He deserved more in life than a stolen name and a tainted past with murderers, drunks, and whores. The gold could give him the future he wanted.

Since the moment he left Lauderdale County, Levi had spent every waking hour infiltrating the inner circle of high society, and as of tonight, he had finally arrived. So far, this seemed a very good place to be. He sipped imported sparkling champagne as he socialized with gentlemen in expensive tuxedos, beautiful women adorned with exceptional jewels, and even a few servants who scurried around catering to the social elite. Though he wasn’t born into this circle, and he thought most of them idiots who were beneath him, he felt at home here. He was finally receiving the respect he deserved.

As the orchestra struck up a lively ragtime tune, Levi walked toward the patio door to step outside and get a breath of fresh air. His heels clicked on the marble floor as he passed velvet chaise lounges and crystal chandeliers. The leaded-art glass was a sight to behold and the classical details of the mansion were breathtaking. He would have a house this fine someday.

He found the patio alit with lanterns and twinkling holiday lights, flanked by sweeping staircases that led down to the beach. The half moon shone brightly in the winter sky, and an ocean breeze rustled through his dark blond hair. He closed his eyes for a moment and enjoyed the gentle wind on his face. He took a deep breath of the ocean draft. It smelled like fresh linen hung on the line. He opened his eyes and looked around. Baskets filled with late-blooming roses were spaced intermittently around the cement patio. Other than the fragrant flowers, he found the patio nearly empty. Everyone was inside on the dance floor celebrating the arrival of the new year. Everyone except that brunette he had been eyeing all evening.

He had noticed her hours earlier, the moment she entered the front door. She was petite but floated into the room like she owned the place, all willowy with a smoky air about her. Her charcoal-lined eyes were dark and seductive, hiding playfully behind the rim of her extravagant black velvet hat. When she walked, the long, white ostrich feather on top of her hat danced with each step. He found her movements intoxicating.

She wore the most luxurious mink stole he had ever seen, and when she removed it, she looked like a Grecian goddess. Her empire-waist dress flowed to the floor, the black velvet bodice cut low enough to make every man in the room stop and stare. The black fan she fluttered in front of her face made her even more exotic. Levi had attempted to approach her a few times throughout the evening, but she was always surrounded by admirers and he couldn’t get close enough to utter a single word. Out here on the patio, she was again with a gentleman.

Levi stepped to the edge of the patio and placed his fingers on the railing. She had her back against the railing, being courted by some wealthy boy in a man’s suit. Levi snickered. These rich boys don’t know how to seduce a woman, he thought. They think they can have anything they want, including a woman, simply because their fathers gave them money.

He remained still and looked out to the sea. The moon illuminated a path of white on the dark water. The reflection went all the way to the horizon. He absentmindedly reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his silver lighter. He flipped it open and closed over and over with one hand. He kept stealing glances to his left at the couple, wondering if he should interrupt them. The rich boy stumbled forward a little, almost falling onto the woman. He seemed to be more than a little drunk. Levi held his breath and waited for the woman to say something, hoping he’d be able to tell whether or not she needed him to intervene.

When she spoke, her voice had a deep rasp with the slightest Southern drawl. Why did that not surprise him? He felt a stirring in his loins and glanced again at the couple.

“Mr. Goodyear, I’m flattered by your attention, but don’t you think we should be going back inside now? Your friends are surely looking for you.”

The boy caught his balance, stood up straight, and countered, “No, they’re not looking for me. They’re having their own fun…just like we should.” The boy leaned in for a kiss, but the woman turned her face to the left and looked directly into Levi’s eyes. She smiled faintly.

It was not the plea of a woman needing assistance that he’d been expecting to see. The expression he saw on her face was one of confidence and power. This woman didn’t need his help. She was more than capable of fending off a drunken suitor. Levi watched her as she scowled and playfully pushed on the boy’s chest to back him away.

“Really, Mr. Goodyear, that’s enough for now.” She pushed harder on his chest.

The boy shrugged and mumbled something Levi couldn’t make out. The woman pulled her fur around her shoulders and narrowed her eyes at Levi, suggesting he should mind his own business. She turned the boy toward the open doorway, tucked her arm into the crook of his elbow, and led him toward the ballroom. As the two made their way to the door, a woman’s bloodcurdling scream came from the direction of the beach.

Levi and the couple turned toward the ocean, attempting to see the source of the screaming through the palm trees that lined the patio, but it was impossible. The screaming continued. People began streaming out of the ballroom, asking what was going on, and men sprinted down the stairs on both sides of the patio, hurrying toward the sound.

Levi turned and looked at the alluring woman, whose young suitor had left her standing alone while he joined the other men heading to the beach.

She stared into Levi’s eyes with no expression.

******************************************

Just for kicks, I think this is the woman Levi was watching, and I think she’s going to be trouble with a capital T.penny fisher

Lori Crane Books at Amazon

FREE FREE FREE AUDIOBOOK

Hi everyone!

Last month, I released my book Okatibbee Creek on audiobook at Audible, Amazon, and iTunes. It was narrated by the talented and fabulous Margaret Lepera. Audible has granted me a few FREE copies and I would like to give them away to you!

Please read the blurb below and and check out the sample at Audible – click HERE. If you find the story fits your taste, shoot me an email at LoriCraneAuthor@gmail.com and I’ll send you a FREE download code. I have ten to give away, so hurry up and be the one of the first ten to send me an email. I only ask that you rate it on Audible when you’re done listening. I only have one rating over there so far, and it looks pretty lonely. 😦

51QeOBe26zL._SL500_AA300_PIaudible,BottomRight,13,73_AA300_Blurb:

In the bloodiest years of our nation’s history, a young mother was left alone to endure the ravages of the Civil War and a typhoid epidemic that threatened the lives of everyone left behind.

Okatibbee Creek is based on the true story of Mary Ann Rodgers, who survived the collapse of the Confederate dollar, food shortages, and the deaths of countless family members to war and disease. As she searched for a way to feed her children and her orphaned nieces and nephews, Sherman’s Union army marched through Mississippi on their way to destroy Meridian, and Mary Ann found the distant war literally on her doorstep.

Help arrived just in the nick of time in the form of an unexpected champion, and Mary Ann emerged on the other side a heroic woman with an amazing story.

Okatibbee Creek is a tale of historical fiction that brings the Deep South vividly to life and will have you cheering and crying through a real-life story of loss, love, and survival.

UPDATE FEBRUARY 11: I still have one more copy if you’re interested. LoriCraneAuthor@gmail.com