Tuesday, July 29, 2014

RELEASE DAY: Laverne St. George "The Master's Plan"


Bad Things Happen…

Caralyn Masters lost both her faith and her sister in a tragic accident. The trauma leaves lingering effects--automobiles give her the literal shakes. She hoped that a grant from the reputable Doncaster Foundation would set her non-profit firmly on its feet. Now the grant funding has disappeared for no good reason. She’ll need a Plan B. Or a Plan C.

Jason Montague knows from painful experience that his seizure disorder is enough to scare most women off.  Finding someone to share his life? Not so easy. Now he’s learned that there’s a problem with the Doncaster accounts in the Midwest office. All the grants he promised are in jeopardy, and he’s off to Kansas (of all places!) to figure out what’s going on.

…Then Love Steps In.


I’m a Romance Addict.

In college, my aunt sent me a box of books, including Kathleen Woodiwiss' THE FLAME AND THE FLOWER. I caught Romance fever and never looked back. Although my favorite books are Inspirational and Clean romance, I’m an avid fan of romance in all its variety. All I need is a well-written book with a fine hero and a happy ending.

I’m a Curious Person.

I was blessed with a mother who, when faced with a flow of “Why...?” and “How...?”, took refuge by answering, “Let’s go look it up.”  If something intrigues me, I want to discover more about it. I became a librarian because I love learning new things. I’ve worked in universities, on US naval bases, in Government consulting firms and in the pharmaceutical industry. My motto has always been “Curious Librarians Need to Know”. 

I’m a Dog and Turtle Person.

There have been pets in my past, but I’m pet-less at the moment. To me, turtles are about the most wondrous creatures ever created, and I have been known to stop on the side of the road to guide a wayward turtle off the pavement and into the grass. I have always considered myself a dog person, but there is a very nice neighborhood cat who greets me when I arrive home. Hm-m-m.

I’m a Writer.

I’ve been writing since grade school.  First there were crayon words and illustrations, then books about space travel, mystery and espionage. I've always carried stories in my head and written them down. My writing style has been described as “a whole lot of sweet with a dash of spice”.  I like to keep a sense of the Divine Presence in everything I write.

When I’m not writing or reading, I enjoy needlework, baking, Scrabble®, traveling, and jigsaw puzzles. So hello from a librarian romance addict-writer dog and turtle and maybe cat person, who’s delighted that you’re here. Enjoy!


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Chapter One

Lightning streaked across the sky over the Missouri Ozarks. Thunder rumbled and dissolved into the swaying evergreens overhead while a gust of wind dashed chilled raindrops against Caralyn Masters’ cheeks.

A storm, she thought grimly. Just what I need.

Frowning, Cara stopped and shifted the heavy backpack on her shoulders. The temperature had dropped at least twenty degrees in the last hour, and the available light faded steadily as the afternoon sun set behind thickening clouds. On her way up the trail the day before, she had seen a sign for a shelter. Now, on her way back down, she had forgotten exactly how far along it was.

She sighed. I’m out of practice.

Two years ago, she would have automatically placed the location of the shelter in her mind just in case the weather turned. But yesterday she had done nothing but drink in the scenery. Her six-hour trek up the mountainside had been warm and dry. Vistas of dark green peaks thrusting toward robin’s-egg-blue skies had thrilled her at every bend of the path. An exceptional September day. The perfect way to unwind after a day of endless questions and orientation sessions — worth every minute if the Doncaster Foundation awarded her a grant.

Now she hiked down the trail in cold drizzle, picking her way over troublesome stones, kicking others out of the way. She threw a shuddering glance at the two-hundred-foot cliff dropping away to her right. One misstep and she’d break her neck on the slippery path before she found a place to sit out the storm.

Another flash of lightning brightened the somber sky and lit a wooden trail sign. The shelter lay just a quarter-mile to the left.


Cara quickened her steps down the marked path and soon arrived at a wooden structure imitating an open box tipped on its side. Its back, cuddled against a hill, was lined with crude bunk beds. With relief she noted a high, chain-link fence stretched across the opening to ensure safety from animals, and a stone fireplace set in a side wall promised cozy warmth. She manipulated the slip latch on the gate and stepped through the fence. Standing inside on the dry concrete floor, she swung the twenty-pound pack from her shoulders with a groan.

As she stretched her arms overhead to relieve the tightness in her back, the drizzle changed to rain. Softly at first, the drops brushed against the corrugated metal roof like a whisk on a snare drum. Suddenly, the skies opened. Water pelting the shelter thrummed like an orchestra of timpani.

She glanced up. Nothing like a little water hitting metal to remind her that sometimes one had to take the bad with the good.

Within minutes Cara organized her provisions. From her pack, she retrieved a camper’s stove. After setting some water to boil, she touched a match to the kindling already in the fireplace and added a log from the pile in the corner. Slipping her jacket off, she watched as the blaze leaped against the dark stone. She remembered spending nights like this under nothing more than a tarp on open ground, huddled in an oversized sleeping bag. She would crawl in with her sister, Ellen, and they would share ghost stories and tales of gallant knights and beautiful princesses.

A pang of grief tugged at her.

The water on the stove bubbled and gurgled, pulling her from her memories. Cara poured the hot water over a tea bag set in an aluminum mug, concentrating on the action, keeping the images of the past at bay.

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