The other day my son was talking about all the things (for good or bad) you can learn to do or make online. “Careful that you don’t end up on some government list,” I joked until he looked meaningfully at me. Oh. Right. I cringe to think what someone would make of my searches through the years, which have included: The life of Blood Countess Elizabeth Bathory, the most prolific female serial killer of all time who purportedly bathed in the blood of virgins. How much virgin’s blood it takes to constitute a bath The Order of the Dragon How to tie fly-fishing lures Whether one can make a living hand-tying fishing lures How to play the ancient Egyptian board game Senet First Century public latrines What the uh, toilet paper options were in 1st Century public latrines Secret tunnels beneath Budapest’s Castle Hill Secret tunnels in Zagreb Secret tunnels in Jerusalem Ancient Glagolitic Paleo-Hebrew alphabet Sabaean alphabet How long it takes to get a caravan of 600 camels from Yemen to Israel Leprosy Heart conditions A bunch of random diseases Pretty much anything that can go wrong in pregnancy How stinky a dead body would be after three days…

Life is the one gift every human being has in common. It is the most sacred gift any of us will ever be given. And the most fragile. I wrote MURDER FOR EMILY’S SAKE because I wanted to entertain and engage readers in a way that celebrates the sanctity of life in all its various stages—the unborn, the newly born, children, teens, and adults of all ages. And I wanted to take readers on a thrill-ride that grabs their hearts and minds and leaves them thinking about whether life should be respected, protected, honored, and cherished. Also, my goal was to show that there are forces that threaten life—things like disease, sickness, evil actions of others, and even our own bad choices. I hope that readers will consider how we can honor life by the way we love and help one another, and the way we take care of those in need. And I hope readers will take time to see their own lives as a valuable gift from God. MURDER FOR EMILY’S SAKE encourages readers to consider what it is they treasure most. During the process of writing this book, I had to take inventory of things in my…

Long before I wrote romance or even read romance, I watched romance. This early introduction was courtesy of my mother. She loved Jane Austen like a mosquito loves blood. Okay, not the best simile, but you get my point. She watched Pride and Prejudice on the regular, the original BBC unabridged version starring Colin Firth. Remember the part when Colin, i.e. Mr. Darcy, plunges into the lake and walks back to Pemberly, wet shirt clinging to his body? Sigh. That was it. I was a goner. Soon enough, I was pilfering my mother’s historical romance novels seeking that same little thrill. Eventually historical romance evolved to science fiction romance, to contemporary romance to paranormal romance. Really whatever I could get my greedy little hands on. My voracious appetite for reading romance lead me to writing it. I don’t believe there can be too much romance in the world. Love is so inspirational. Why not try to create it myself? Being a romance writer is the best job in the world. And I have Jane Austen to thanks for that. GOOD LIES by Charlotte West Wild Minds If Warren Price was gasoline, I’d be a lit match. Addison Wanks, rock ’n’…

Two days later, Claire Miller pulled into the long driveway that led to the Walker family ranch and sighed. She was home, back in Colorado on her old stomping grounds, and it hurt just as much as she thought it would. Seven years evaporated like they’d never existed. Everything at the ranch looked exactly the way it had the day she’d left town, but she knew one major difference waited…Jake’s mom was gone. That loss hit her harder now. For the first time in her life, Mrs. Walker wouldn’t be on the front porch smiling and waving, or bringing her and Jake a pitcher of lemonade in the barn. She wouldn’t be in the kitchen making fried chicken or harassing her four boys about their homework or their girlfriends, and generally in that order. Claire half expected the place to look as sad on the outside as she suddenly felt on the inside, but the world never stopped spinning, no matter who was lost. The large red barn was freshly painted, the outbuildings were overflowing with riding tack, hay, and tractors. The riding and roping arenas were often used and the horses’ hooves made sure nothing could survive inside the…