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I found the country lane that led to where I was going. Several minutes later, the overgrown driveway spit me into a clearing tucked into a deep, dark wood. The place had always given me Hansel and Gretel vibes, but now, considering, it felt more Little Red Riding Hood.

I cast uneasy glances at the thick, dense trees, which, thanks to my fairy-tale thoughts—curse them!—appeared to heave and hum. Despite the ungodly hour, seemingly every available light fixture blazed within the gorgeous log home.

Why Frankie—my late husband’s assistant, a beautiful young man with ridiculously long, dark lashes and very shiny teeth—had built a place that fit him as well as shitkicker boots fit a gazelle had always been unclear.

Frankie’s baby—a peacock-blue 1957 Ford Fairlane convertible—shone beneath the light of the undulating moon, and before I could even knock, the door swung open.

Middle of the night and Frankie matched his car. Smooth. Cool. Classic. His cream trousers held a perfect crease, and his apricot button-down had never known a crinkle. The only indication of the ungodly hour were his bare, narrow feet.  We matched.

I lifted my hand. “Hi.”

His unwrinkled brow wrinkled. “People have been searching for you.”

Old news. The only one who hadn’t been, come to think of it, was Frankie. And now that I did think of it, and considering . . . everything . . . that was suspect.

“I told them you were visiting a friend.”

Oh. Right. I had said that. Had, in fact, pushed him with my mind—my innate werewolf gift—into believing it despite—

“Then someone mentioned you don’t have friends.”

That.

I had contractors. Suppliers. Consultants. I had made Patrick’s Victorian family home into a showplace once featured in Architectural Digest, something that had made Patrick proud of the place for the first, and last, time I could recall.

I had neighbors. Fellow members of charitable organizations. Spouses of other politicians. Basically acquaintances. I’d never fit in. Not anywhere. Ever. Except with Patrick. With Gideon. And I hadn’t wanted to.

But now would have been a good time to have friends. Someone I could go to for help besides my husband’s lover. But you get what you get.

The wind chose that second to rustle through the trees and waft the scent of rotting walnuts across my face. I tensed and whirled, spreading my arms wide, putting myself between that scent and Frankie.

But behind me—to the left and to the right—there was nothing but trees, and when I took another whiff . . . more nothing. Because I’d killed the last werewolf that smelled like that. I knew I had.

“Sarah, what the he—?”

I shoved Frankie inside and slammed the door, flicked the lock, looked for a dead bolt. Didn’t find one, but a dead bolt wasn’t going to help if a werewolf wanted in. A werewolf would just jump through one of the far too numerous windows.

“Did you ever consider storm shutters for those?”

“To prep for the hurricane that isn’t going to hit Wisconsin ever?” Frankie asked.

I started turning off the lights. “Better safe than sorry.”

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AUTHOR GUEST POST

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What inspired you to write this book?

A few years back at a writer’s conference a writer friend who had started writing Paranormal Women’s Fiction suggested I give it a try.  While I finished with other commitments, an idea began to form about a mother who would do anything, lost love and werewolves.  Bit by bit, Sarah came to life.  

Can you tell us a little bit about the characters in the books?

NOTHING GOOD HAPPENS AFTER MIDNIGHT introduces Sarah Sullivan, a recent widow who gets the phone call all mother’s dread in the middle of the night.  Her daughter, Jenna, is missing from college.  This sets Sarah on a journey of discovery, both for her daughter’s whereabouts and for the answer to a mystery in her past.

Ash has a lot of secrets too.  Sarah is that mother we all hope to be—she will do anything—ANYTHING—to find her daughter and keep her safe.  Even sacrifice herself.

BLAME IT ON MIDNIGHT continues Sarah’s story.  She now lives in a world of werewolves.  She’s one of them.  There’s a civil werewolf war brewing and she’s right in the middle of it.  There’s a tug of war over her between the high school love of her life turned alpha werewolf, Gideon, and the incredibly sexy Zane,  former beta of a pack Gideon has taken over.  

IN THE MIDNIGHT HOUR finds Sarah uncovering more and more secrets as she hides one of her own. She has choices to make and werewolves to kill.  She has become the Luna werewolf queen she didn’t want to be.

In all three of these novels we meet, or perhaps meet again if you’ve read my Nightcreature Novels, Edward Mandenauer, leader of the Jager-Suchers (hunter searchers, monster hunters he organized after WW2, when Hitler’s werewolf army was released into the world. Edward is rough, tough, no one to mess with and as always, and incredible hoot.

Where did you come up with the names in the story?

I have a notebook where I keep a list of names I’ve heard or read that struck me as a name I’d like to use in the future.  Then I test them out on the characters as they come to me. There have been times when a character arrives in my brain with a name attached.  No idea why.

What did you enjoy most about writing this book?

Revisiting characters I’d created in my “Nightcreature Novels,” specifically Edward and the voodoo queen, Renee.

I have written 2 short stories about Edward and Renee, which you can read for free on Bookfunnel.

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Nothing Good Happens After Midnight

A Midnight Madness Nightcreature Novel Book 1

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They say a mother will do anything for her child . . . I’m living proof

This nightmare began when I got the call every parent dreads. My daughter, Jenna, was missing from her college campus. Of course, my mind went to the worst place. After all, my late husband was a powerful senator. Was this some political payback?

I call in a favor and soon I’m partnered with an FBI sex trafficking agent. He tells me local girls have been disappearing for some time now, and he finally has a lead. But what we find at that abandoned warehouse is something out of a horror movie.

Werewolves! Two rival packs, their alphas fighting, winner take all––the pack and the trafficked girls. The werewolves must replenish their breeders, recently decimated by a virus that killed only the females.

But Jenna’s been keeping a secret, which only makes two of us. Though I should be angry, I know the lies I’ve told play a huge role in why we’re here. I’ll do anything to make it right. No way is my girl going to become a sacrificial mate for the greater good––even if she is the ‘chosen one.’ So, I do what any mother would do, I take her place, offering myself to Gideon, the winning alpha, as his mate.

Gideon’s goal is to live in harmony with the human world, but there are others who exist for the power, for the violence, and they don’t plan to let peace prevail.

There’s a civil werewolf war brewing and I am right in the middle of it.

From the voice of New York Times bestselling author Lori Handeland, a new volume in her Nightcreature world, complete with the humor, depth of characterization and fast-paced plot lines she is known for while showcasing the author’s incredible range.

Amazon * B&N * Kobo * Smashwords * Books2Read * Bookbub * Goodreads

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When the phone rings in the middle of the night, everything changes.

Mother always said: Nothing good happens after midnight. I’d found in my forty-one years on this earth, in that at least, Mom had been right.

I sat up so fast I jiggled the mattress. I froze, my gaze shifting to, then away from the empty side of the bed. I still hadn’t gotten used to Patrick not being there. Would I ever?

The shrill slice of sound continued to cut through the oh so silent night. I only had one ringtone left on my allowed calls after that indelible hour of midnight, and this was it. My heart rate increased from WTF? to OMG!

“Jenna?”

“Sorry, Mrs. Sullivan. It’s Cammy.”

I searched my memory for the identity of Cammy, feeling slow, stupid despite the far too rapid rate of my heart.

Spring, same time two years ago, my OB had diagnosed the reason for my newly sluggish brain and sudden ability to fry eggs atop my head as premature menopause.

Look at it this way, you won’t have to worry about getting pregnant for very much longer.

Not that I had for decades. However, having my body betray me like that—basically saying I was old, when I never really got to be young—had stung. It still did.

Cammy’s tentative voice brought me back to the right now. “I’m Jenna’s roommate.”

My skin prickled with heat and a fine sheen of sweat started up at my hairline. “What’s wrong?”

“Jenna hasn’t been here since Tuesday.”

Here being the University of Wisconsin. I’d been so proud when Jenna had decided to go to UW like me. Or like the me I could have been, would have been if not for her.

“Tuesday,” I repeated. “But it’s . . .”

Come on, brain, don’t fail me now!

Thursday! I thought at the same time Cammy said, “Thursday.”

For an instant, I was near ecstatic to have concluded something at the same speed as a millennial. Then I did the math, never my strong suit even before all the brain-fart BS. “That’s two days, and you’re just calling me now?”

“Sometimes she pulls an all-nighter. Stays at the library or goes to a study group. But she lets me know. I didn’t really worry until I called her phone, and it was . . .”

My skin did that prickle again. Jenna’s phone was in Cammy’s hand, obviously, since she was talking to me on it. That I hadn’t asked why earlier put another notch in my losin’ it belt.

“Her phone was in her backpack,” Cammy continued. “In her room, along with her laptop and her books.”

Cammy paused, waiting for me to fill in the blanks. Jenna probably wouldn’t be studying without her backpack, and the notes and books and computer within. But even if she’d grabbed a few things and left the rest, she never would have left her cell phone. I didn’t think it had been out of her sight—more accurately, out of her hand—since I’d handed it to her when she was ten.

“In Lunar Lake, anywhere can be reached from anywhere in a handful of minutes,” Patrick had argued. “Even if she falls off her bike and breaks her leg, someone’s gonna be at her side quicker than she can make a call. She’s safer than safe, like every other kid in town. What are you worried about?”

When I lifted my eyebrows, he’d blinked, said, “Oh,” and that had been the last Patrick had said about that. He knew why I was the way I was better than anyone. It was one of the reasons I’d married him.

I’d devoted my life to raising Jenna. She was everything. The only thing. When she’d gone to college, I’d been proud but also terrified. This exact scenario—a midnight phone call, a missing child—played through my mind far too often. Sadly, what I should do about it had never played through as well.

“Hello?” Cammy’s worried voice broke into my thoughts. She probably thought I’d fainted. Or stroked out. I was tempted.

But all Jenna had was me now, and all I had was her. If that meant facing my greatest fear again, I’d face it. What choice did I have?

She was my baby.

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Lori Handeland is a five-time nominee and two-time winner of the prestigious RITA™ Award from Romance Writers of America, as well as the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over sixty novels spanning the genres of paranormal romance, urban fantasy, contemporary romance, historical romance, historical fantasy and women’s fiction. Her novel Just Once received a coveted, starred review from Library Journal and was optioned as a feature film by Catalyst Global Media.

Lori set her sight on being an author at the age of ten. She remembers sitting at a typewriter before she knew how to type, pecking out a story about a family who went into space. As an only child her summers were spent with that typewriter, television, and, above all, books. As a young adult, she got sidetracked by the need to make a living. She worked as a waitress and later enrolled in college to become a teacher.

Lori lives in Southern Wisconsin with her husband of over thirty-five years. In between writing and reading, she enjoys long walks with their rescue mutt, Arnold, and visits from her two grown sons, awesome daughter-in-law and perfectly adorable grandchildren.

Website * Facebook * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

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Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

.

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Stuffed Wolf Plush,

$20 Amazon giftcard

– 1 winner each!

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a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Amazon * B&N * Kobo * Smashwords * Books2Read * Bookbub * Goodreads

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.

When the phone rings in the middle of the night, everything changes.

Mother always said: Nothing good happens after midnight. I’d found in my forty-one years on this earth, in that at least, Mom had been right.

I sat up so fast I jiggled the mattress. I froze, my gaze shifting to, then away from the empty side of the bed. I still hadn’t gotten used to Patrick not being there. Would I ever?

The shrill slice of sound continued to cut through the oh so silent night. I only had one ringtone left on my allowed calls after that indelible hour of midnight, and this was it. My heart rate increased from WTF? to OMG!

“Jenna?”

“Sorry, Mrs. Sullivan. It’s Cammy.”

I searched my memory for the identity of Cammy, feeling slow, stupid despite the far too rapid rate of my heart.

Spring, same time two years ago, my OB had diagnosed the reason for my newly sluggish brain and sudden ability to fry eggs atop my head as premature menopause.

Look at it this way, you won’t have to worry about getting pregnant for very much longer.

Not that I had for decades. However, having my body betray me like that—basically saying I was old, when I never really got to be young—had stung. It still did.

Cammy’s tentative voice brought me back to the right now. “I’m Jenna’s roommate.”

My skin prickled with heat and a fine sheen of sweat started up at my hairline. “What’s wrong?”

“Jenna hasn’t been here since Tuesday.”

Here being the University of Wisconsin. I’d been so proud when Jenna had decided to go to UW like me. Or like the me I could have been, would have been if not for her.

“Tuesday,” I repeated. “But it’s . . .”

Come on, brain, don’t fail me now!

Thursday! I thought at the same time Cammy said, “Thursday.”

For an instant, I was near ecstatic to have concluded something at the same speed as a millennial. Then I did the math, never my strong suit even before all the brain-fart BS. “That’s two days, and you’re just calling me now?”

“Sometimes she pulls an all-nighter. Stays at the library or goes to a study group. But she lets me know. I didn’t really worry until I called her phone, and it was . . .”

My skin did that prickle again. Jenna’s phone was in Cammy’s hand, obviously, since she was talking to me on it. That I hadn’t asked why earlier put another notch in my losin’ it belt.

“Her phone was in her backpack,” Cammy continued. “In her room, along with her laptop and her books.”

Cammy paused, waiting for me to fill in the blanks. Jenna probably wouldn’t be studying without her backpack, and the notes and books and computer within. But even if she’d grabbed a few things and left the rest, she never would have left her cell phone. I didn’t think it had been out of her sight—more accurately, out of her hand—since I’d handed it to her when she was ten.

“In Lunar Lake, anywhere can be reached from anywhere in a handful of minutes,” Patrick had argued. “Even if she falls off her bike and breaks her leg, someone’s gonna be at her side quicker than she can make a call. She’s safer than safe, like every other kid in town. What are you worried about?”

When I lifted my eyebrows, he’d blinked, said, “Oh,” and that had been the last Patrick had said about that. He knew why I was the way I was better than anyone. It was one of the reasons I’d married him.

I’d devoted my life to raising Jenna. She was everything. The only thing. When she’d gone to college, I’d been proud but also terrified. This exact scenario—a midnight phone call, a missing child—played through my mind far too often. Sadly, what I should do about it had never played through as well.

“Hello?” Cammy’s worried voice broke into my thoughts. She probably thought I’d fainted. Or stroked out. I was tempted.

But all Jenna had was me now, and all I had was her. If that meant facing my greatest fear again, I’d face it. What choice did I have?

She was my baby.

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Can you, for those who don’t know you already, tell something about yourself and how you became an author?

Hi, I’m Lori Handeland and I always wanted to be an author even while I was studying to be a high school English teacher. (Hey, they have summers off for a reason, right? Besides sanity, that is.) Life intervened and while home with two boys under the age of three, I decided to try writing the book I always wanted to.

That book, SECOND CHANCE, won the Wisconsin Romance Writers Fabulous Five contest and was requested by an editor at Harlequin.  Several revisions and submissions and years later, it sold to Dorchester Publishing.

If you knew you’d die tomorrow, how would you spend your last day?

With my grandchildren, doing whatever they wanted to.  

What kind of world ruler would you be?

No nonsense.  I have no patience for it.  Behave or b-bye.

What do you do to unwind and relax?

I go on wonderful writing retreats with my writing friends, where we write all day, drink wine and chat at night.  The perfect recharge.

How to find time to write as a parent?

When my boys were small I wrote at 5 am, midnight, whenever (if) they napped.  I also exchanged babysitting with other moms so I could have uninterrupted writing time.

When did you first consider yourself a writer?

When my first fan letter arrived.

Do you have a favorite movie?

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.

Which of your novels can you imagine made into a movie?

JUST ONCE. And it almost was. The book was optioned by Catalyst Global Media.  I even wrote the screenplay. But as those things go, it did not.  I am still submitting my screenplay.  It’s done, so why not?

As a writer, what would you choose as your mascot/avatar/spirit animal?

A wolf, of course.

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Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

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Swag Pack with Tshirt, necklace & stuffed wolf,

$20 Amazon

-1 winner each!

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a Rafflecopter giveaway

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