Carmen DeSousa

When what seems like a normal pit stop turns to more than just gas and food, a lost couple finds themselves searching for the truth of a twenty-year-old mystery that may cost them their life. Enjoy this brief prologue and then follow the links for your free copy. Prologue     The ancient train-car looked innocent enough, but the lack of surrounding cars gave Gino Canale pause as he opened the door of his silver rental. The GPS Sheila and he had been using had directed them off the highway in search of gas. But there were no gas stations around, just this one structure in the outskirts of this Northern California town. Sheila opened her door, but he waved her off. “Stay in the car. Let me check this place out.” As usual, she did what she wanted and jumped out anyway. “I have to go. I’ve had to go since that last exit you ignored.” “Fine,” Gino replied, walking toward the entrance, Sheila on his heels.  He listened for sounds, but heard nothing. “What do y

One of the things I love about writing is sharing my love for the great outdoors. Here’s just a sample. Excerpt:   They descended the path faster than their ascent. Jaynee had to move fast to keep his tempo, but finally Jordan slowed his pace. Could they have made it back to the start already? That’s when she heard it—a waterfall. “Jordan!” she exclaimed. “I love waterfalls!” He stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist as they stared at the magnificence and splendor. Something about a waterfall entranced her, especially in the desert. The breeze created as the cascading falls pounded the river below as the sound of the crashing water drowned out all other noises as it beat the rocks below the waiting river’s surface. It was simply breathtaking. Her eyes glazed over just a tad at the thoughtfulness that Jordan had put into their week. “Thank you,” she whispered. He bent over her shoulder, kissing her neck. “I love them too,” he admitted. Acco

A great book increases my heartbeat,  as if I’m prey , melts my insides in anticipation of a first kiss, and immerses me in its depths, never letting go. Ahhh … isn’t that the truth? I’ve enjoyed many books written in first person, but I love to visit more than just one character’s thoughts. Similar to watching a movie, I love to read from all POVs--well, to a point, I still don't want to be in too many characters' heads . To counteract this, some writers have even gone to writing several first-person accounts. Again, not a bad strategy, as long as they make sure they hammer-in whose POV they’re in. Nothing worse in my mind when I ’m reading a book and halfway down the page I have to reread because I didn’t realize who was speaking. I know you’ve been there, right? My goal as a writer is to put you inside the head of the protagonist and the proverbial “bad guy’s” head. Why? Because I believe you invest even more of yourself as a reader into the

Let’s face it! We live in a world where few people find their happily ever after, even though most of our childhood stories preached that to us. Wait a minute. Did they? I keep hearing … and I’ve been known to write this statement, “I ’v e obviously read too many fairytales .. .” But when I look back, the fairytales weren’t all sunshine and roses. In fact, as I wrote in another post of mine, often the characters in what we tag as fairytales   were beaten , banished, orphaned , poisoned, lost, and on and on… So where does the fairytale aspect actually play out? Is it when the dashing prince on the white stallion sweeps in and they live happily ever after? Chuh ! But hey, the protagonist had to go through many trials to get there. So what’s so bad about that? Personally, I don’t think there’s a problem, except for putting all your dreams in one knight in shining armor who turns out to be a frog. But you can still work at your happily ever after, with or without

When what seems like a normal pit stop turns to more than just gas and food, a lost couple finds themselves searching for the truth of a twenty-year-old mystery that may cost them their life. Enjoy this brief prologue and then follow the links for your free copy. Prologue     The ancient train-car looked innocent enough, but the lack of surrounding cars gave Gino Canale pause as he opened the door of his silver rental. The GPS Sheila and he had been using had directed them off the highway in search of gas. But there were no gas stations around, just this one structure in the outskirts of this Northern California town. Sheila opened her door, but he waved her off. “Stay in the car. Let me check this place out.” As usual, she did what she wanted and jumped out anyway. “I have to go. I’ve had to go since that last exit you ignored.” “Fine,” Gino replied, walking toward the entrance, Sheila on his heels.  He listened for sounds, but heard nothing. “What do

Excerpt:   “Shall we?” The question was rhetorical. Instead of waiting for an answer, Jordan twirled her out once then pulled her back into his arms as he lowered her gracefully into a dip, his strong arms secured around her. The mime jumped up and down, clapping his hands noiselessly then proceeded to make a mock display as if tapping on a glass, beckoning them to kiss. Jordan obliged, and a cheer emerged from the surrounding crowd Jaynee hadn’t noticed had gathered. Jordan stepped back and bowed, pulling her with him. “Jordan, you’re crazy.” She let out a laugh. “And a ham! Can we go?” she pleaded. Not accustomed to the spotlight, she could feel heat fill her cheeks. “If you insist, my lady.” He waved the crowd off and pulled her to his side again. Finally, they made their way to the room. Although it shouldn’t have taken her by surprise, she felt the wind rush out of her when he swung her up into his arms and carried her over the threshold of their suite. She ha

Yesterday when I came home, a box was sitting on my doorstep. And as with most people, I get ecstatic when I get gifts, as I don’t get many. I won’t get into my sob story about my parents, but let’s just say—nah...I’ll leave it to your imagination, as we ’ ve all got bad stories. Anyway, when I get a gift or letter, it’s a well-welcoming shock. This box was from my best friend’s mother, a woman who I’d wished was my mother growing up. We’ve been best friends since the third grade, so this woman has known me most of my life. If you’ve read m y bio at    the end of my first novel,  She Belongs to Me,  or my blog post  Why Do You Write , you’ll recognize this story and see why this is such a special gift to me. The stories she is speaking of in this letter were a means of an escape for me as a child. Other than a jewelry box my mother gave me when I was eight, this is the only other item from my childhood. And what a special gift it is… As she wrote on the box, “Where it

Birthright Bestowed (Ilona the Hun Trilogy, Book One)  Now Available from 5 Prince Publishing Ilona is an emergency room doctor, born into an ancient Hun tribe which still exists hidden amongst us with its strict and fiercely enforced rules. She doesn’t know much about her Hun heritage besides legends, customs and rituals that she continues out of respect for her parents whose sudden death ten years before devastated her.  She plays her tune on her birthday given to her by her grandmother.  Elza – Ilona’s housekeeper - explains, the purpose of the tune is to let the elders know she had come to age. Her mother didn’t have a chance to explain her inherited powers, but after her 29 th birthday when she is considered as an adult by Hun standards, she begins to remember the forgotten instructions concealed as rhymes her mother was teaching her since she was a small child. Ilona discovers she can heal with her bare hands; she can rearrange the human body to its health