I'm Thankful to welcome Toni Anderson and her appreciate her stopping by amidst all the holiday preparations.
Would you prefer…to be a member of the opposite sex for a day OR to be a dog for a day?Ha. Funny. My dog does nothing but sleep, eat, and chase rabbits all day. I think I’d like to be a guy. As long as I really get to be a guy from the inside out, not just a girl walking around with dangly bits. It would be great from a writer’s POV. What goes on inside those testosterone laden minds?
Would you prefer…to live in a haunted mansion OR to live in a peaceful shack? The house I grew up in was 300 years old and had been a butchers and an undertakers. It had six bedrooms, three floors around a swirling staircase, plus a dank, damp, dark, dripping cellar. It wasn’t a mansion but it had the atmosphere down pat. Mom claimed it also had a ghost but I never met the guy. So, as long as the ‘peaceful shack’ is on the beach someplace warm I’d choose the shack, please. Hawaii, please.
How has your past career as a marine biologist influenced your writing?LOL—you just have to look at the books to figure that out. I’ve used the sea as a backdrop to most of my stories, with two even taking place at marine labs around the world (St. Andrews, Scotland & Bamfield, BC).
What are you most thankful for that happened this year? It’s been an eventful year, good and bad. I’m most grateful for signing with my agent, Jill Marsal. I’ve really enjoyed working with her.
You've lived in five countries, what was something that was the hardest to get used to in one of the countries? Spiders. Australia. I really hate spiders and I don’t know if you are familiar with orb weavers? Harmless but flipping HUGE. Ugh. Not a spider person. Snakes didn’t bother me but the spiders still make me shudder.
What is the most challenging part of writing for you? Torturing my characters. I tend to fall in love with my hero and heroine pretty early on and then I sometimes veer away from making everything worse. I have to constantly go back and twist the knife.
What aspect of writing would you most like to improve on? I guess my speed. I’m a slow writer. I’d love to get the first draft down faster and then edit away.
What have you learned most about the writing business? It’s really, really hard. The number of people who say to me, “I’ve thought about writing a book” and “That must be nice”? Drives me nuts. Because everyone has thought about ‘a great story idea’, but few sit down and actually write that sucker (which is a completely different process to having a great story idea), even fewer have the guts to send it off to agents and editors. It isn’t nice. It’s gut wrenching and torturous. You have to be addicted to stick it out. I love it.
Tell us about your most current release…My current release is a Romantic Suspense/Mystery story set on the very edge of the Pacific Rim National Park Reserve, Vancouver Island. The story concentrates on a modern day murder mystery but there’s a connection to a thirty year old cold case where a woman and baby were murdered and a little girl disappeared. The hero is an ex-Canadian Special Forces soldier turned dive master at a world famous marine lab, and the heroine is a RCMP sergeant leading her first murder investigation.
What was your leading inspiration for the story? Two things. The first was a vivid nightmare that now forms the opening scene of the book. The second was the location. We visited Bamfield Marine Science Centre for the first time in 2010. It’s a remote and rugged and amazing location. I had to use it as a setting for a story.
How do you most identify with the leading character? My heroine, Holly Rudd, is dedicated and good at her job, but also has a lot of underlying insecurity. I think as writers, we all identify with insecurity.
How are you most different? Hmm, good question. I’m not very brave—can’t even climb a ladder. So going after bad guys is a little out of my comfort zone. That’s probably where we differ most.
You are welcome to share an excerpt....
Holly Rudd stepped off the speedboat and looked around. Vancouver Island was the size of Scotland, but with a population of only three-quarters of a million people, most of whom where based in the provincial capital, Victoria. The rest were scattered among tiny out-ports and communities like this one—Bamfield, population one-hundred and fifty-five hardy, adventurous souls, according to the last census.
“You can’t moor that there.”
She looked the guy up and down. Surfer blond hair and bare feet. Rugged good looks and attitude to match. She dumped her bag at her feet and turned to the guy who’d ferried her over from Ucluelet. Handed him fifty bucks. “Thanks for the ride.” He waved as he sped away.
She turned back to the dude who stood with arms crossed over his broad chest, radiating impatience and hostility. Sexy as hell. She was tired from lack of sleep, exhilarated by the thought of what the day might bring, but she sure as heck wasn’t blind.
“This is private property.” Blue eyes glittered. Pale hair glowed like white gold in the rays of the rising sun. Hot, tanned, gorgeous. Just her luck.
She raised a brow and checked her watch. “I’m meeting someone here.”
“Public dock is another minute that way.” He jerked his thumb down the inlet.
She smiled coolly. Twelve long years on the job and she was still dealing with macho bullshit. “But someone’s dropping a car off for me here.” She pointed up at the Department of Fisheries and Oceans sign on the side of a large wooden building and started toward it.
He blocked her path. “There’s no one there today.”
She rocked back on her heels, let her eyes range over the square jaw and heated eyes. “You’re not very friendly.”
He didn’t crack a smile. “Not in my job description.”
Not in hers either, but she found smiles worked better than growls when gathering information.
His mouth pinched, then he backed off, relenting. “Tell me who you’re supposed to meet and I’ll get someone to track them down.”
“Who are you?” She had a feeling she knew.
He blew out an impatient sigh. “Look, lady, I don’t have time for this—”
“Sergeant.”
“Excuse me?” Those pale brows formed a formidable line.
She held out a hand. “Sergeant. Sergeant Holly Rudd. I’m with the Vancouver Island Integrated Major Crime Unit.”
“You’re a Mountie?”
A proud member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police by any other name. She nodded.
He stood stock still, nothing moving but the glitter in his eyes. Finally he sucked in a breath and shook her hand. “Nice uniform.”
She glanced down at her ragged old t-shirt, cut-offs, and thongs. “I was caught a little unprepared this morning as I was officially on vacation. Thankfully I always pack a uniform.” She tapped her bag with her foot, smiled widely, and watched his eyes grow a lot more friendly. And then they shifted straight back to suspicious as he realized she was cataloguing his expressions like a facial analysis program. “And you are?”
“Finn Carver.”
Ah. Her fingers tightened on his when he would have let go. “You called it in?”
“I did.” He forcibly disconnected her fingers.
“I’m going to need all the gear you wore last night, and the other diver’s. Forensics will want to check it out.”
He regarded her with one of those silent, steady gazes people used when they wanted to argue but couldn’t. “I’ll need it back ASAP. I have a busy dive schedule this week.”
“You can use something else for a day or two, right? I’ll make sure they do a quick turnaround.” She needed this guy on her side.
The little time she’d had before the boat trip she’d used to pull up background information on the two guys who’d found the body. Finn Carver had been in the military. Right now he looked ready to go into combat. “Any chance the dive team arrived yet?” she asked.
“No. Their ETA is eleven o’clock. West Coast Marine Service had a call north of Prince Rupert last night. It’s going to take them a few hours to get back here. So far you’re it.” His eyes scraped her form. He didn’t look impressed. She should be insulted, but she worked best when people underestimated her.
“I want to check out the crime scene ASAP.”
His face gave away nothing but skepticism. Those arms crossed again over that muscular chest. Mouth pressed into a firm line. She let her eyes wander over him. He really was very attractive and absolutely untouchable. Knowing that gave her a distinct advantage.
“You can take me down,” she suggested.
He gave her one of those sideways glances. Not hostile. Not friendly. “Whoever is in charge of the investigation probably wouldn’t be very happy about that.”
“Me. I’m in charge. On the ground anyway.” Although she was the newest member of the major crime unit here on the island, she had plenty of experience. She let her grin reach her eyes this time. This was her first case as primary investigator in a murder investigation and she didn’t usually have to work this hard to charm anyone. “I just helped solve a case down in Blaine.” RCMP, municipal, and FBI collaboration. A hell of a big deal. “Guy murdered his wife, dumped her in Semiahmoo Bay. We found enough evidence to prove he was lying and he confessed.” To her, at the end of a bloody knife. She rubbed the newly healed scar on her arm. “I’ve been working with forensic experts in Burnaby for some time, looking at decomp after seawater submergence.”
His lip started to thin. He was definitely not buying it.
“If you’re too scared to go back down there…”
He snorted and whirled away. “What am I, eight?”
“If you don’t take me down I’ll find someone who will,” she called to his retreating back.
He stopped, tension stretching the muscles tight across his shoulder blades. “I thought people who found the bodies were suspects?”
Knowledgeable about police investigations. Check. “At this stage everyone’s a suspect, but I can take care of myself.”
A harsh sound was forced out of his mouth. “Just what a potential dive buddy wants to hear.” He swiveled back to her and moved so close she smelled his scent and felt his body heat. She held her ground, watching his nostrils flare. He was trying to intimidate, but she’d been a cop for over a decade, had grown up with cops. There wasn’t much she hadn’t seen or dealt with, and brawny guys with bad attitudes did not scare her. “This isn’t some macho pissing contest. Wreck diving is dangerous, especially at this sort of depth. Only experienced divers should be down there.”
“I can handle it.” Her voice was sharp. He wasn’t a pushover for female charm or pretty smiles. Perhaps proving she was damn good at her job would work instead.
He went to walk away, but she reached out to touch his arm.
“I have dive training.” She spoke softer this time. She’d learned to dive exactly so she could pursue this sort of investigation.
He paused, those eyes of his diamond hard. “Prove it.”
She let go of his arm and bent to pick up her bag. Unzipping the tote she pulled out her brand-new PADI diving certificate. “I just completed the basic dive training yesterday.”
“Fortuitous.” He plucked the book from her fingers and flipped through it. “You did four open water dives and think you’re ready for a thirty-meter wreck dive?” He shoved the book back in her hand and stalked away. “Not on your life, Sergeant Rudd.”
“I checked you out, Mr. Carver.”
“I bet you did.”
She followed him into a low-slung single-story building, the room full of tanks and neoprene. The desk overflowed with papers, keys, coffee mugs. Where was everyone? The place was quiet as a graveyard. He picked up the phone.
“I heard you’re the best dive instructor this side of the Pacific. If anyone can get me into that wreck it’s you.”
“Getting you into the wreck wouldn’t be the problem.” His eyes flicked over her, unmoved by flattery. He started talking on the phone. “Johnny? Finn Carver here. I’ve got a woman called Holly Rudd claims she just completed a PADI course with you?”
It went silent and Holly leaned against the doorway, straining to hear above the background sound of running water.
“What was she like under pressure? Think she could hold her own on a thirty-meter wreck dive?”
She watched his face, trying to gauge the answers, but his impassive features gave nothing away.
“Would you trust her with your life?” The reply made Finn smile. “That’s what I figured. Talk to you later.” He hung up.
“What did he say?” She could have kicked herself for asking.
He stared at her, then bent down and started filling an air cylinder. “You don’t want to know.”
Her eyes widened despite her efforts to conceal her emotions. “Well, it won’t be anything I haven’t heard before.” She lived in a man’s world and never forgot the fact, but she was done playing games. “Are you taking me down or not? So far we’ve only got your and Professor Edgefield’s word a body even exists. And even if there’s a body, it doesn’t mean it’s a homicide.”
He snorted. “Trust me, it’s a homicide.”
This was her first murder as lead investigator, and she would not be thwarted. Checking out the crime scene with the body still in place was imperative as long as she didn’t contaminate the scene. The guys on the Underwater Recovery Team were no more likely to take her down than he was. She geared herself up for an argument.
“You do exactly as I say. No pulling rank or cop bullshit when we get down there. And you’ll owe me.” Carver disconnected one cylinder and began filling another. His eyes were flat and hard.
“You’re going to take me down?” A rush of adrenaline shot through her. She nodded. “As long as it isn’t illegal, I’ll owe you.” She nodded.
“Down there I’m boss. You have to trust me implicitly.” He took a step closer and her mouth went dry. “If I put my hands on you…” He rested both hands on her hips and she felt the imprint of each burning hot finger. She forced herself not to react. This was a test. She didn’t fail tests. Ever. “If I grab you, you don’t freak out. You help me do whatever the hell it is I want to do. You follow my lead exactly and we’ll both get out of there alive.”
She found herself staring up into those bright blue eyes, only inches from hers. Energy sizzled between them. A sudden wave of sexual awareness mixed with mutual mistrust, a subtle perfume of complication.
Red burned his cheekbones. He released her. He hadn’t expected it either.
“I have to trust you. Think I can do that?” Blue eyes held her gaze.
She didn’t make a joke about putting her hands on him because suddenly it wasn’t funny. One, he was a suspect and she refused to feel anything for him that wasn’t strictly professional. Two, they were going to dive a hazardous shipwreck at thirty meters with a rotting corpse at the end. It wasn’t the sort of treasure most divers dreamed of, but she wasn’t most people. She kept her mouth shut. Nodded.
****
Toni loves to hear from readers. Check out her
website and
Amazon Author Page for a list of current titles, her
blog and
Facebook Author Page for writing news. She also has a very infrequent
newsletter for special announcements. If you like dogs or weather talk (must be winter) there’s her personal
Facebook page, and
Twitter for up-to-the-minute nonsensical chatter. And if you’re more of a visual person she has lots of travel pictures on
Pinterest.
Thanks for having me today, Mike.
Thanks for coming!
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