STOLEN SECRETS - Leann Harris - 2 Free Ebooks

Welcome back, Leann. Why did you become an author?

Because I had stories running around in my head and started writing them after my daughter was born.

If you weren’t an author, what would be your dream job?

I’d be a full time interpreter for the deaf. Interpreters are hired to do an interpreting session. It’s the same as nurses who do private duty. You’re called and go to the job. It’s never the same.

If you could have lived at another time in history, what would it be and why?

That’s a hard one. I am a creature of the modern era, but if I had to choose, 1776. I admired what the men and woman of America did to create this country.

What place in the United States have you not visited that you would like to?

I’d like to see the West Coast and drive up and down Highway 5.

How about a foreign country you hope to visit?

I’d love to see Ireland. I’ve been to England and Scotland, but I’d like to see the Emerald Isle.

My granddaughter, who is taking deaf ed in college, just returned from a mission trip to Ireland. She went last year, too. What lesson has the Lord taught you recently?

I’ve been reading Genesis and read how Joseph’s brothers sold him into slavery. When the brothers meet Joseph years later, I was impressed how they’d matured, grown, and changed from the selfish young men they were before. They’d learned from their mistakes. I’ve messed up in the past, been forgiven, and learned from those mistakes. Now I need to put that knowledge into action.

Tell us about the featured book.

Stolen Secrets is about a woman who made a big mistake in her youth, fell in love with the wrong man and did what he asked her to do. She knew it was wrong, tried to run from it, but 20 years later is caught in the fallout from that mistake. The book takes place in the middle of the Cold War.

Please give us the first page of the book.

Point a la Hache, Plaquemines Parish,

Shrove Tuesday (Mardi Gras) 6:40 pm

February 15, 1972, Day 1

“Sheriff, we got a floater,” Martha Pitman, the department dispatcher, yelled from the other room.

Sheriff Colin McDonald rubbed his forehead and he ground his teeth. He thought they’d made it through Mardi Gras without any fool getting drunk and falling in the Mississippi River and drowning. Apparently not.

“Who called it in, Martha?”

“Stan.” Martha didn’t need an intercom. Her voice could be heard in the next parish and would definitely win any hog calling contest she entered. “He’s by Frenchman’s Wharf.”

“Tell him I’m on my way. Call Doc Weber and ask him to meet me at the wharf.”

“You got it, Sheriff.”

Colin sighed and closed the file he’d been studying. The older he got, the less tolerant he was with stupid. It had been a long week with teens drinking, partying, and then smashing up the chicken coop of Miss Marlee Astor, the old maid of the parish. And then there was the incident where he’d arrested the illustrious grand dam of the parish, Geraldine Yarborough, for driving her Lincoln into her neighbors’ porch. He was still catching all sorts of grief for that, but her majesty hadn’t given him an option when she refused to take a sobriety test. Even his daughter protested that one. How could he, the sheriff, arrest her boyfriend’s grandmamma?

Colin grabbed his cowboy hat off the file cabinet by the door and jammed it on his head.

Martha glanced at him. “Doc will meet you there. He didn’t seem too happy to be called out from his dinner.”

“He’s not the only one,” Colin growled. “Tomorrow’s Ash Wednesday and our business should slow down. Who’d ever think I’d be happy to see Lent?”

“Certainly not Father Dunn,” Martha snapped back.

Colin glared at her. He didn’t need any reminder of his shortcomings. His mother and mother-in-law did a fine job of cataloging them.

She shrugged. “Drunks are drunks, Sheriff. You get them all year long.”

“True, it’s just this time of the year seems to bring ’em out in force. Maybe I’m too old for this job.” After being a New Orleans cop, then a State trooper, Colin had had enough of politics and ambitious individuals who only wanted what was best for them. And he had a belly-full of their boot-licking and jockeying for position.

Martha raised a plucked, bleached brow. “Is it the drunks you’re worried about or is it somethin’ else? Maybe it’s that jeune fille of yours.”

Martha knew everyone’s business in the parish. She was his eyes and ears and had several times helped him avoid a ticklish situation. So why was he surprised by her question? Since his wife died three years ago of breast cancer, his only daughter had been his world until she started dating. Lizabeth’s maturity hit him hard. “We can’t keep them from growing up, can we, Martha? Well, that boy she’s keeping company with better not step out of line or he’ll be seeing the inside of the jail.”

Martha grinned. “Watch out, Sheriff. He’s the mayor’s son and Geraldine’s grandson.”

That also grated on Colin’s nerves. The boy thought he was owed.

Steel laced his smile. “That don’t mean squat to me. Young Jon puts his hands where they don’t belong, he’ll be sorry.”

Martha laughed. “Spoken like the father of a teenage girl.”

She was right. For sure.

I can hardly wait for my copy to arrive. How can readers find you on the Internet?

www.leannharris.com

www.facebook.com/authorleannharris

http://craftieladiesofromance.blogspot.com/

http://www.loveinspiredauthors.com/

Thank you, Leann, for sharing this new book with us. I know my readers will be as eager as I am to read it.

Readers, here’s a link to the book. By using it when you order, you help support this blog.

Stolen Secrets

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