This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Sally J. Smith & Jean Steffens will be awarding a $25 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the banner to see the other stops on the tour.
1. I tend to read several books at a time—one in the car, another on my nightstand, and a different one in my purse. That way I always a great one at hand when I need it.
2. Love going to the movies, especially suspense and thrillers. Horror movies freak me out.
3. Going out for high tea at some cozy little tea room with my girlfriends is the best—tiny tea sandwiches, scones with clotted cream and jam, big fancy hats—so much fun.
4. I watch TV in bed while eating popcorn (not popular with my husband).
5. I hate to exercise, so I just walk my dog instead.
Sally: 1. I sang backup at a recording session once, and I rocked it!
2. I’m dying to get a racy tattoo, but know I’d take massive heat from EVERYone (yes, especially Jean), so I’ve taken it off the agenda—for now anyway.
3. I used to own and operate a travel agency and just had to go all around the world for my work—a real shame, right?
4. I LOVE celebrity gossip and have a hearty helping every day for breakfast with my morning coffee.
5. If my family didn’t keep me from it, I’d probably be one of those dog-hoarding ladies—just love ‘em all—the more, the merrier, I say.
Kangaroo Dreaming, a valuable aboriginal totem, must make it safely to a London museum for exhibition, and Digby is the one in charge. But within hours of his arrival, the roo is stolen and the curator is murdered.
His bosses blame Digby for the theft and insist he stay to help London Metropolitan recover Kangaroo Dreaming. That’s all well and good, except the lead cop keeps getting in Digby’s way. The case puts everyone in peril, including Digby Sloan, who might not make it back alive to the Land Down Under to find out if he even still has a job.
Read an excerpt:
I rode him as hard as I could straight across the clearing and headed dead-on for the pond in the center of it.
Falstaff’s heavy breath smoked the air. His body beneath me was soaked in sweat. The white of his wild eyes shone in the night. He carried me straight toward the water.
“Now!” I yelled in pure reaction, shifted my weight, and leaned.
Falstaff’s direction changed with such a jolt it wasn’t hard for me to do what I had to do.
The momentum launched me off his back. I was an unguided missile. My arms and legs flailed everywhere.
I slammed against the dark water, but it may as well have been a concrete slab. The wind blew from my lungs. Every inch of me cried out in pain.
The frigid pond waters closed over my head. I sank like a stone.
I headed for the slimy bottom. No. Up. Go up. I fought for the surface, pushed, kicked, and clawed. But there was no strength in my arms or my legs. No breath in my body. My tortured lungs were in agony. My brain was fuzzy. My body numb. I couldn’t see.
Sweet Mary, Mother of God.
I was drowning.
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