When I tried to think of a topic for this blog, Pearl Harbor Day was close approaching and naturally my thought turned to the men and women who serve in our armed forces. I’d like to take a moment to thank them for their sacrifice and let them know they are appreciated.
Navy SEALs are close to my heart because my dad served in the Navy during and before WWII. Daddy was a sailor and had that swagger and bigger than life attitude that men of such ilk are known to possess. My dad loved to talk about his time in the Navy, but never to discuss the war. That part of his life was something that he kept closed away from his family. He and my great uncle would talk shop, meaning war, when the womenfolk were out of the room. I’d often slip close by without his knowing to listen to their memories. My great uncle, Uncle Sarge, served in the army during WWI, so though their wars were somewhat removed, their memories were much the same.
I was, of course, Daddy’s little girl. I thought he walked on water and hung the moon and stars. He could fix anything, do anything and even taught me to use all the fancy attachments stored in the drawer of my momma’s pedal sewing machine. Is it any wonder that I find Navy SEALs the perfect fit for a romantic suspense hero? Meet Mac Carlson, ex-Navy SEAL, loner, man with trust issues, and a mission.
A Matter of Trust is a romantic suspense with paranormal elements. I enjoyed writing this book because as they say, “it was ripped from the headlines.” The idea came after seeing a report of a woman who intervened and called the police when she saw a child she thought had been kidnapped. The woman literally saved a child’s life.
My character, Jolie is a teacher with psychic abilities. Using those abilities cost her dearly, but when a child is kidnapped, she has to team up with hot, sexy hero Mac Carlson to rescue the child. Mac is an ex-Navy SEAL and a loner. Can they learn to trust each other and work together to save the little girl?
(Note-Maniac speaks in Italics)
This is so not good, wake up, Mary Poppins, come on, we’re in deep birdie do-do here.
Jolie’s entire body seared with fire from the inside out. Every muscle, every tendon screamed in pain. She tried to move. She could barely breathe. Her throat refused to cooperate with her order to scream. For a moment she thought herself blind as well as immobile, but the soft texture of cloth against her cheek told her that whatever had been put over her head remained. Slowly her wits returned, if not control of her body. She remembered opening the door and stepping into darkness. Then? Nothing.
No, that’s not right. They drugged us. Didn’t you feel that needle? Hurt like hell. Probably still does, but we can’t feel it with the effect of whatever the hell he gave us. Jolie managed a groan deep in her throat.
Or maybe just in her mind. My arm, my pain, not yours, she admonished the Maniac.
Not the time to quibble. I suppose I could go and leave you alone.
Don’t you dare. It would be just like you to leave me at a time like this. Why didn’t you warn me? You can feel when a child is in danger, but can’t tell when I’m about to be abducted? What kind of guardian angel are you anyway?
Never claimed to be an angel. Besides, you know it doesn’t work that way. We can’t help ourselves. Only others.
Well, if you ask me, it’s a stupid rule.
Not my rule.
Where are we? Jolie tried to move and found her limbs unresponsive.
Haven’t got the foggiest. Can’t see a damn thing with this bag over your head. The Maniac snickered at her little joke.
Now is so not the time to be funny.
I can’t move, I’ve tried.
Crap, whatever he used still hasn’t worn off.
Jolie’s attention caught on that one word. He? She willed her body to move but nothing happened.
Why don’t you do something? Jolie couldn’t feel her arms, much less move them. Why do I have to do it all?
Quiet, someone’s coming. Don’t let him know we’re awake.
Like I could. Panic surged within her when someone or something moved nearby. A subtle shift here, a sound there. Chills tingled down her spine. How many were there? What did they want with her? What were they going to do with her, do to her?
Fear choked her. Perspiration pooled in certain areas of her body. Armpits, upper lip, valley between her breasts, all damp. The scent of fear filled her nostrils. Her fear. Thick tangible, choking, debilitating fear. It ran through her veins like poison. Somewhere deep in her chest a small child-like whimper began, built pressure and forced its way between her clenched lips.
She would not be a wimp. She would not.
We’re not in any immediate danger, I would sense if evil were lurking.
Now you’re a freaking evil barometer. Jolie drew strength from the calmness of the Maniac’s voice.
Well, duh? How else do you think I know these things?
Well, why didn’t you… Jolie stilled her thoughts. Never mind, listen they’re coming closer.
Slowly the paralysis relaxed. Jolie tried and found she could move her fingers. Maybe even her arms. She held her body tense, waiting, hoping for a chance. A chance to do what? She was a teacher, not a pugilist. Teachers weren’t even allowed to paddle kids these days.
I am so screwed. Jolie realized she could move, but had no idea what to do with that new ability. Should have taken some sort of self-defense class instead of doubling up on reading instructions, Jolie grumbled. Slowly she moved her foot, testing for bindings. She could move her feet, her hands, and even lift her head, if she moved slowly. Apparently her abductors were so confident in the drug used to render her helpless they felt no need to bind her. Their mistake, she hoped.
Okay, we can use this to our advantage. Try moving an arm, see if you can push the damn cloth away from our eyes.
Biting back a retort at the Maniac’s order, Jolie slowly moved her arm, her fingers feeling for the edge of the cloth covering her face. By cautious inches, she pushed the material away from her face.
Total darkness greeted her. Jolie groaned. So much for that.
She moved her hand back to her side, letting her fingers slide over the surface where she lay. It felt like silk, no, satin. Her hand fanned out, moving over the smooth, cool surface. When the fog gradually cleared from her befuddled brain, she took in more details. Softness beneath her. Satin smoothness, soft like a mattress. Jolie’s breath caught in her throat when she and the Maniac reached the same conclusion at the same time.
Not good. We’re in someone’s bed.
Total darkness surrounded her and yet she could feel someone watching her. Her senses were in hyper drive. Warning tingles ran along her spine. Someone was definitely nearby, watching her.
About MJ Flournoy:
MJ Flournoy loves crafting stories of romance and suspense. Her interest in writing grew organically from her love of reading. A late bloomer, MJ attended college as a non-traditional student and earned a degree in history with an eye toward writing historical romance.
After graduation from college, MJ became a middle school teacher, which helps to keep her grounded in the real world while her plots take her away to the extraordinary worlds of imagination and creativity. MJ enjoys adding a twist of paranormal to her plots.
MJ makes her home in rural Georgia with her husband. She has two children and two
grandchildren. Her favorite activities are writing, reading, and travel.
Trailer: A Matter of Trust
Buy link for A Matter of Trust
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