We are two weeks and a few days away from Beyond the Veil, book 1 of Shadow Company‘s release. I’m excited to share this first installment in the Shadow Company’s trio. Look for your copy at all major outlets New Year’s Eve. Now for that imagination.
Logan Latimar and feisty, Aubrie Sinclair find common ground and sparks light their world. Here’s a snippet of conversation over coffee at Stogie’s Place. Enjoy!
Beyond the Veil, book 1 of Shadow Company
To Aubrie, the diner was like stepping back in time. The atmosphere went back further than the cafes of the fifties with their bright colored vinyl bar stools. Cozy, dark stained wooden booths lined the wall of windows making up the building’s inviting structure. Stogie’s Place reminded her of the diners of the forties with a soda fountain near the back. The hole-in-the-wall establishment might have been where Al Capon strolled in, firing off enough rounds to kill his current enemy in crime. The gun smoke would still fill the air as he calmly exited the door, getting back in his car before speeding away. Aubrie could practically smell the coppery scent of blood splatter on the walls. Screams mixed with overturned chairs littered the space as patrons scurried from the murder scene.
Logan touched her arm. “I said where would you like to sit?”
“Huh?” Aubrie blinked away the vision. “I don’t care. Over there is fine.”
“Where’d you go?” His voice deepened with the question.
Warmth surrounded Aubrie as she imagined him in the bedroom with a single lamp for light.
“I ugh, I drifted off there for a moment. That’s all. This place reminds me of the gangster days the locals mention when Bonnie and Clyde, you know those infamous bank robbers, frequented the area. Can’t you see somebody like them or Al Capon or maybe Baby Face Nelson appearing in the doorway? All of a sudden, their rival is lying in a bloody pool.” She smiled wistfully at the idea.
“Wow, that’s a vivid imagination you’ve got there. Easy on the blood, okay?”
Unable to help the laugh, Aubrie reined in her thoughts. “I’m app to conjure up a tale or two. I write for a living, among other things.
“You’re an author? That’s fascinating.” His eyes lit with interest.
She had hit a cord with this ex-SEAL. Unable to stop the smile, Aubrie wondered what else made up this handsome package of male testosterone.
“So what do you write about?”
Now, she relaxed a fraction. Her love of writing surfaced, so, of course, Aubrie couldn’t stop the easy feeling of purpose, each time her work was mentioned. Nothing bad ever came from discussing her writing. “I’m a romance writer. I love mixing paranormal and suspense along with history. Can’t get enough of them.”
“Wow, I see. You really enjoy the work, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do. What about you? No, let me guess. You work at the garage during the week and save drowning damsels on the weekend. Sounds like Superman to me.”
Happy Friday! I have scheduled a release for New Year’s Eve. I hope you can drop by.
Today’s snippet revolves around Logan’s POV. He regrets the way his date with Aubrie ended. He has intentions of apologizing. He’s caught off guard when he bumps into her in Katie Tibideaux’s drug store. Unable to find the words, which will show her how sorry he is for walking out on her, he flounders in the sensations he has when he sees her. Hope you enjoy! Thanks for dropping by.
Beyond the Veil
A jingle came from the front door.
The female voice sounded too familiar.
“Katie? Are you in the back?”
“Be right there,” Katie called from the bowels of the store.
The voice had him frozen in his tracks. Unwilling to admit he had a moment when he’d almost bolted for the door. Prompted by the fact safety lay just on the other side, Logan scowled down at the bottle of fish oil – ‘one thousand count, made from the finest fish from the north sea.’ “Coward,” he growled under his breath. Turning, he headed for the counter.
“Hey, Logan,” Aubrie greeted him as he approached.
Her faint smile reminded him of the reaction of the nurses at the VA after he awoke from an episode. Their faces always registered detachment framed in caution. “How’ve you been, Aubrie?” His hands automatically went into his pockets.
“Fine, how about you?” Her smile warmed a little.
His mind registered the look of long golden brown tresses hanging down her back. Soft curls bounced as she shifted from one foot to the other. By the gods, but she looked good. “I’m fine,” he said with precision. Lying was one of his better skills, he mused. Her standing there made him crave the urge to reach out. Logan imagined taking one of those long, satin strands of hair in his hand before twirling the silken smoothness around his finger. Languishing in the soft, sensual length made his shaft harden. No, there was no ED problem when it came to her. Discounting the notion, he jerked his head in the direction of the garage. “Gus is trying to kill me slowly, I think.” Her gentle laugh eased the tension he sensed between them.
“Yes, I’ve noticed you guys are swamped most days when I go by.”
“You came by? Wait, I missed you?” he questioned.
“No.” Her brow furrowed.
Logan’s gut tightened. Shifting, he searched for a calm he was not sure existed. With Aubrie so close, his world went to general quarters. Her nearness had his heart beating like a piston. Afraid his head might explode, Logan took a step back.
“No, I just noticed when I’d drive by is all.”
The moment was broken as Katie stepped up to the counter. “Hey, you.”
“Hey.” Aubrie’s tone immediately shifted to intimate friendship.
Silently wishing her response to his question had been similar, his hand automatically went to his chest. The familiar pain lodged there ached with a deep longing.
All work is copyrighted and the property of Catherine Wolffe, author.
The end of 2016 marks my sixth year as a romance author. I love the journey and look forward to many more tales of suspense and mystery within the genre of fantasy. My latest book, Beyond the Veil, book 1 of the Shadow Company series, scheduled for release at the end of the year brings magic to life. I plan on sharing small snippets of the book with you, the readers in the coming weeks. To begin, here is the synopsis.
Beyond the Veil, book 1 of the Shadow Company series
Aubrie Nelson wanted peace. As a seer, she cherishes living alone with only her dogs and horse as companions on a quiet farm in the hills of northern Louisiana. The solitude allows her to harness her gift and banish the unwelcome voices in her head. Her world is turned upside down when she meets Logan Latimar, former Navy SEAL, and warlock.
Evil lurks in the fog. Logan has seen the demons in his tours as a Navy SEAL. Even his talents as a warlock can not rid his world of the danger, residing on the other side of the light.
Can his attraction to Aubrie be more than a mere fascination? Or, are they destined to face the shadow walkers from the netherworld? Together they embark on a spin chilling adventure as self-proclaimed saviors of the world.
“So that’s why you love it way out here.” Logan scanned the darkness, examining the silhouettes in the burgeoning moonlight. “I understand it now. This place is your haven, your sanctuary.” Turning, his eyes traced her features. “You’re an amazing woman, Aubrie.”
“Not really.” The laugh escaped unbidden. Now, she gripped the rail. Its strength she found necessary at the moment. “Some say I’m crazy.”
Silence filled the air.
Funny, she had expected him to disagree. She shot him a glance from beneath her lashes. He started to laugh. Starting as a bubble of amusement, Logan did not finish until he held his side. “A stitch, sorry.” Having trouble breathing, he clutched his middle.
She did not know whether to ignore the outburst or roll with the mood. “What’s so funny, exactly?”
“I’m sorry. Folks were calling you crazy. I find that ironic is all.” He smoothed a stray length of hair back from his forehead. “You see the way the Army smothers a mistake is to cast aspersions on those involved. If you find yourself under fire, cause a diversion. We were labeled crazy by the shrinks once we got stateside due to our dispute over the call to disengage that night. It’s so convenient for them to label you with PTSD and close the book on you. Honorable discharges dished out all around. Hoorah, team five.” He waved a long finger in a circle above her head. One pious general even mentioned how grateful we should be to have our pension intact. He said how we could have been court-martialed for insubordination under fire.”
“You think I’m running don’t you?” Aubrie watched him carefully.
“What?” He shook his dark head. “No! Why do you say that?”
Extending her arms, she encompassed the dark space before them. “You see a coward who had rather live alone than face the world. You think I believe you’re a coward.”
His eyes deepened to forest green. Sparks of amber sizzled around his pupils. “I don’t believe any such thing. Quit putting words in my mouth, woman. That’s not the way it is.” Shoving back, he turned his back to her. A moment passed. Slowly, he turned to face her. “I see what you’re up to. You’re goading me aren’t you. Trying to remind me, I’m not a victim here. Am I right?”
She glanced out at the new moon’s gleam over her tiny valley. “A man needs to remember why he’s fighting and for who.” She turned away, walking down the length of the deck. As she did, she glanced back. “Small minded people will always believe what they want. It helps them sleep at night, I suppose. You and I believe in truth and justice. I guess that makes us off kilter for some.”
“You had me going there for a minute. Of course, I don’t believe the talk or the diagnosis. We know what we were put here for, and that’s all that matters.” Logan narrowed the distance between them. Sweeping Aubrie up, he kissed her hard.
Beyond the Veil, a work of fiction and the copyrighted material of Catherine Wolffe, the author is not eligible for reprint or sharing except with the permission of Catherine Wolffe.
Sometimes in life, things assail people that catch them completely off guard. This year has seen some of these road blocks in this writer’s life. Reality is a rough place to reside when you face the ugly side of our existence on earth.
I wish I could tell you the answer for me was to escape into writing. But dealing with health issues and denial of your own mortality overrode my creative nature. Sorry, but that’s truth. Does that make me weak? I do not have the answer to that one. Today I opened my story file to work on the tale of a witch with PTSD in love with an empath kidnapped by a narcissistic demon. The contents could mirror my mental state at this point.
The good news is I am closing in on the end of the story, and I am sure of one thing. Life goes on. I will survive. I will not make promises. Everyone has the promise to offer, so I will not compete. Instead, I will seek the creativity to heal my battered soul. The story will end when it is time.
For those of you who have patiently waited, here is an excerpt of my latest work in progress, Beyond The Veil. Thank you for your continued support.
Rockets whistled overhead. Gunfire erupted all around Logan’s unit. He blinked away the vision of Luke’s lifeless body lying in a pool of blood. “Gotta stay here. Gotta focus. Just a vision. Nothing more.” Logan raked fingers through his hair. Snarling at the noise, he crouched low. The feel of his mind slipping from reality made his breath come in quick pants. Gas fumes and burning rubber assailed his senses. “Gotta get out of here.” Logan closed his eyes and covered his head with his fists.
The sound of a chopper sitting down reminded him he had to evacuate. Sweat popped out as he took a couple of steps toward the door. There was not the time for the sense of dread, which enveloped him. Still, the image of another person standing behind Luke frazzled his nerves. Logan cursed low under his breath. The sense of De Ja Vu whirled in his head. He stumbled before clutching the doorframe.
He had struggled with the image ever since he returned from the ‘sandbox’. Figuring it was a figment of a battle weary brain or some psychotic meltdown did not stop Luke’s form from popping up at the worst times, like now. He could not see ghosts now – not now. Shaking out the kinks, Logan forced one foot in front of the other. “Stay in the present,” he murmured. Willing away the thoughts, Logan forced his brain to think of Aubrie. She was safe and out of harm’s way. The crystals he had given Gus to use would keep Aubrie safe until he could stop this disaster from happening. Her alter ego; Valcura was going to be pissed. Logan grinned at the image of her flying off the handle and gathering a head of steam to dump on his ass when he returned. A quick prick of guilt reminded him of the trick he had used to keep her out of the action. So what if she was pissed at him for holding her hostage until he could eliminate Absol and his band of merry warriors. The eye roll brought back the headache. Tension gripped his neck.
“Time to rock and roll, bro.”
Logan wiped away the dirt. The voice reminded him of Luke. Searching behind him, he confronted his buddy standing much as he had the day they’d left for Afghanistan. Luke, the boy from back home, the quarterback and hero, stretched to his entire six foot two frame and grinned for Logan. Gathering his wits, the former Navy SEAL shook away the memory. “Gotta focus. Can’t go in halfcocked.”
Thank you for sharing with your friends. Your support means so much.
This excerpt from Beyond The Veil, book 1 of Shadow Company is copyrighted material and the property of Catherine Wolffe, author.
For the love of a good woman, a man will go against what’s lawful. Here’s a snippet from the second novel in The Loflin Legacy Series, Casey’s Gunslinger. Happy Saturday! Enjoy and know I appreciate your comments greatly.
Casey’s Gunslinger snippet! Excited to share this bit from book two in The Loflin Legacy. Casey’s an orphan. She’s come back to Tyler to confront the father, who abandoned her as a baby. Charles Harrison, the gunslinger, turned lawyer takes on more than he bargained for with the feisty filly, who vows revenge on the Loflin name.
Driven by an inner demon, Casey crossed the rock bank of the creek. “Mr. Harrison, I demand an apology.” Hands fisted on hips; she glared at his broad back. Noting the way the leather vest fit him perfectly, accentuating his narrow waist and trim behind, she waited.
He turned smooth and easy as if the idea of an apology had been his own. “Certainly, Miss St. Clair, just as soon as hell freezes over.” With two fingers to the brim of his Stetson, he rounded her and headed for his horse. “Get ready to ride,” he growled over his shoulder.
The Civil War took Sonja Brooks’ husband and left her alone. Unprotected and scared, she runs headlong into a life changing event when she’s attacked by a pack of wolves. Her fate as a werewolf is sealed. When she stumbles upon Ty Loflin, a Rebel soldier dying of his wounds, she nurses him back to health. He’s the perfect mate, but will…Download Free TODAY on Amazon ← Click now while it’s still free!
The Amazon Kindle ebooks featured in this newsletter were free at the time of publication. Please note that ebook pricing can change rapidly and one or more may not be available for free at a later time.
Good morning. Lovely to have you drop by today. I want to share an excerpt from Desire’s Embrace with you, my readers. If you aren’t familiar with my latest paranormal romance set in post-war New Orleans, circa 1872, then here’s the blurb:
An orphan with a goal to become her own woman. Quite a challenge for a woman in 1872. Still, her drive leads her to answer an ad placed by the mysterious man from Louisiana. He’s known for being the sugar baron of the south and his good looks. Can she become the independent woman she wants to be under his roof as the nanny to his children? Or will the attraction between them drive her into his arms despite her questions about his secretive nature? Join Laura Sinclair as she takes on the greatest challenge of her life with her employer, Morgan Latimar, sugar king of New Orleans.
Morgan Latimar seeks a nanny for his children. The woman who accepts the position can never know he is a wolf shifter. Despite his Wolfen wisdom, Morgan is mesmerized by the passionate, Laura Sinclair. Will she be his salvation or his downfall?Enjoy the
Enjoy the excerpt and have a wonder-filled day.
Chapter 7 – The Governor’s Ball
“Show me what to do with this thing.”
A lace and feather encrusted mask dangled from the eye opening on one finger of her gloved hand. Laura’s expression proved what Morgan had known all along. The hostess arrangement did not make her happy. Laura enjoyed the children, and teaching seemed her forte. She resisted the social aspect of their arrangement with some vigor. “Here, let me show you how fetching you’ll look with the mask in place.” His arched eyebrow with a debonair slant did not impress her. “You position the paper mache thus. You then tighten the ribbons like so and with a couple of hairpins your costume is secure. Cherie, you’re ready to turn heads wherever the night may take you.”
The lack of enthusiasm she wore dealt his positive statement a harsh blow. “You are going to make me wear this thing, aren’t you, sir?”
The use of such a formal address pressed on his already stingy patience. “Why yes, my dear, you look marvelous.” With a wink, he smiled. “I for one would dance with you every dance just to discover who the beautiful creature is under the mask. Besides, we had an arrangement – remember?” Hating the reminder, he vowed to be on his best behavior.
Laura rolled her eyes to the ceiling as he adjusted the black lace shawl about her bare shoulders. The tall mirror in the foyer proved his point.
“See, you look stunning.”
She glanced at him in the mirror.
“Forgive me, Laura, but I’m only telling the truth.” His tone must have sounded sincere because she turned to peer closer before returning his gaze in the mirror’s reflection. Something stirred in his gut. Morgan hesitated to put a name to the sensation, more a swirling of energy, a tingling of feelings each time he took her hand in his. “The carriage is here.” Propriety allowed for a hand upon her low back to assist her inside. The heat from the touch startled him making Morgan wonder if, in fact, she did possess a streak of magic. Something perhaps even Laura wasn’t aware she owned. Mystical and tantalizing, the sensation held the same mystery as the first time he had touched her. Her mother’s illness perhaps was not an illness after all. Laura’s mother may have been a true seer or even a witch.
“Where are we going tonight?” She glanced out the window, watching, yet not seeing. Her hands relaxed atop a velvet purse and gloves in her lap.
He couldn’t help the smile that crept across his face. She hated the gloves and removed them often. “Tonight’s fete’ is at the governor’s home. Despite my misgivings about socializing with a reformist Democrat, I must keep up appearances.” He waved a hand in the air. “The coach is a symbol of the Mardi Gras season. Though a bit old-fashioned for my tastes, they’re used by all the krewes’ for parties and balls. We’ll stay until the Governor arrives and leave soon after we’ve thanked him for the invitation. The whole affair shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours.” Leaning close, he lowered his voice. “I promise not to be too much of a bore during our time together.”
She turned, yet said nothing.
Reaching out, he took her hand in his. She tensed. “Easy, my dear. By the way, you smell enchanting tonight.” He held her gaze a moment and then glanced out the window and sighed. “I’m certain. I’ll have my hands full fighting off the young bucks tonight.”
Her brow furrowed. “Young bucks?”
He grinned. God, what an innocent she was. “I’m referring to the men with their youth and vigor which will try to steal you away.” They crossed a deep pothole, causing the coach to lurch. Pain shot through his bum leg. He eased back into the plush cushions of the seat.
A quick glance proved Laura was riding out the obstacles in the street as well.
She held the leather strap attached to the ceiling with a frown on her face. “I’ve never been interested in those young bucks as you say. I prefer a man with life experience.”
His breath caught.
Laura studied him in the dim light. “Forgive me for being blunt, but how old are you-thirty-five? It has been said; a man is like a fine wine, which requires aging to ensure its quality. You, sir, possess that quality.” Her eyes remained on his. “You have control over impulses – the kind that would derail a younger man. Yours is a quiet confidence without arrogance. Younger men always seem to have something to prove.”
Clear blue eyes held his gaze without wavering. Always outspokenly truthful, Laura hit her mark. She could have spouted the Rosary in Latin and not have had a more profound effect on Morgan. He stared for a full minute before finally swallowing and glanced out the window into the misty darkness of the street. A sickly ill sensation swam in his gut. What a boon she had been since her arrival. She deserved – a whole man– one without flaws and deception. Pain speared him again, and he sucked in air. The devil takes him, but he wanted her. Perhaps, he would have to settle for her in his arms for the leg throbbed anew, and Morgan closed his eyes. In the darkness, all he saw was Laura.
“We’re here.” She slid the gloves back on and gathered her purse, rearranging the shawl more closely. The footman opened her door, and she got out. Morgan had difficulty standing. Cursing silently at the damn leg, he adjusted the brace as the mechanical mechanism hissed and spewed. With the footman’s help, he pulled the crippled leg out to stand. Laura took his arm as they made their way up the low-slung porch to the massive door. He gave her points for her accommodating nature.
The lively music coming from the double doors drew their attention. Inside, dancers swirled and twirled to the sound of an old-fashioned waltz.
“It is beautiful. Laura cut Morgan a sidelong glance. “Where would you prefer we start – at the receiving line or the dance floor?”
Morgan patted her hand on his forearm. The glib way she asked the question told him she wanted to dance. “I’ll wager you’ll surrender before I get warmed up. What do you say?”
Her laugh of pure delight trailed after them as they descended the stairs to a large ballroom. Sparkling lights eliminated the dancers. Her enthusiasm bolstered his confidence. Soon they disappeared into the wave of guests. Next, accordions and fiddles replaced violins and harps as they shuffled at a dizzying pace to a Cajun tune. A dip and twirl had Laura holding on to him.
“You dance so well, sir.”
“This old dog hasn’t forgotten everything. Hang on, Cherie.” Giving her a good squeeze, Morgan faded before twirling her out and back into his arms.
Genuine surprise crossed her face. “Oh, Monsieur, you are an accomplished dancer. Why didn’t you tell me this?”
He noted the stain of pink in her cheeks. “Be truthful – would you have believed me?” The directness of his question caught her off guard.
“To be sure, I didn’t believe you so light and steady. But, you are confident as well. There’s no hesitation, no uncertainty in your direction.” Her eyes traveled over his face in speculation. “You’ve been trained no doubt.”
He noted the pulse in her neck throb with the blood coursing through her veins. His blood surged at the sight of such life. “Yes, we were trained in dance, theater, music appreciation and the accordion as children. My mother insisted though my father found the instruction tedious.” Her light laughter filled the air as the music ended. The sensation of real pleasure washed over him. He lifted her hand, kissing her knuckles. “By the way. I like it when you call me by my French title – Monsieur.” With a flourish, he released her hands. “It’s a pleasure to be of service, madam.” Bowing formally, Morgan gave her a satisfied grin when she continued the private joke by curtsying before accepting his hand to leave the floor. “Can I get you some refreshment?”
Her tiny paper fan appeared. Laura batted her eyelashes at him. “Yes, thank you. That would be lovely.”
“Good, I won’t be long.” Depositing her along the wall where chairs offered a quiet repose, Morgan winked as he left. The night was going well, he mused. Laura’s reluctance seemed to ebb. Thankfully, a cheerful demeanor won out. He could only hope the mood carried the night. Humming a light-hearted tune, Morgan made his way across the room to the dining hall where food and drink abound.
Morgan Latimar seeks a nanny for his children. Being a Creole and a shifter makes the search hazardous for him as well as his family. The woman who accepts the position can never know his secret. Yet, despite his Wolfen wisdom, Morgan falls for the passionate, Laura Sinclair.
Laura Sinclair answers the post from the mysterious man from Louisiana. Soon she’s thrown into the world of Voodoo magic deep in the heart of Creole New Orleans in 1872. How can she perform the job she was hired to do when she’s falling in love with the handsome Morgan Latimar? Will he want her once he knows her secrets? Where can she turn for help?
It’s been five years since I began writing. Sometimes, I wonder what I’d have done if I hadn’t found writing as an outlet for my thoughts, concerns, ideas, creative energy.
Lately, I enjoy writing in a historical setting with paranormal elements such as wolves and werewolves. The mysticism allows my mind wander and ask ‘why not?’
There are times I sit and simply read through the story in my head. Getting to know the characters and their personalities, quirks and talents always prove to be a challenge I love tackling.
What would you say, if I told you, the next book will include the 3rd great granddaughter of Laura Sinclair as well as an ancient sorcerer’s nephew? ‘Magic Man’ is the latest work in progress based on the adventures of the sexy seer, Aubry Slone, and devilishly delicious, Logan Latimar, 3rd great grandnephew of Morgan. Can he shift? We’ll see. So many ways the story could unfold when you write by the seat of your pants, a.k.a. – a ‘pantster.’
In case you are interested, I have ‘Desire’s Embrace’, ‘Comanche Haven’ and ‘Casey’s Gunslinger’ on sale at Smashwords.com and AllRomanceEbooks.com at least until the end of November. Just my small way of saying thanks for all your support. Here’s an excerpt from ‘Desire’s Embrace.’
Morgan could still feel her touch. The burn ran along his skin in a most enticing way. He straightened his back, giving the steam buggy a good surge forward. Eyes on the road, hands on the wheel. Mind on Miss Sinclair. Damn it! Who was he kidding? The woman had somehow gotten past his guard. A quick glance in her direction and he had to grin. The whole episode in his room earlier was totally inappropriate. Every ounce of blood in his body had surged right to his groin with the feel of her hand on his neck. Who knew a fool thing like a collar could be useful in sexual arousal. Irritation rippled along his backbone. Again, he reminded himself he did not need the added weight of yet another problem. An affair with Miss Sinclair would be a problem. Truth!
“I promised you an interview with the Queen of Voodoo, Marie Laveau. This woman ruled life as it was in 1872, New Orleans. She reigned as the Mamba of the Voodoo religion in Louisiana for countless years. Her talent is legion among the believers.”
“I had the opportunity to sit down with her and ask her some difficult questions. Here is the interview.”
“Good day, Marie. Thank you for agreeing to this interview.”
“Thank you for having me, Catherine. I sense you have an interest in Voodoo but hold back because of your social position. Am I right?”
“Ah, well, I suppose you’re right. I’m here today to talk about you, Marie. What is your title among the believers?”
“Some call me Mamba, some call me priestess, some call me Marie and some even call me Mother. I go by many names. I am a servant of the great one. I serve the believers.”
“You serve the-the great one. What is his name? Who do you serve?”
“I told you, Catherine. I serve the great one. He is known by many names. He is our leader, and I await his pleasure.”
“Really? Because I have information, that states you perform many rituals that involve some very disturbing elements. Is it true you eat the hearts of newborn babies and the young among the believers. Sacrifices continue to include human offerings despite the constables raids and arrests.”
“Catherine, forgive me. I don’t want you to think I am using the position I have been given as a catalyst for my own desires. The constables are mistaken. I govern the believers in the name of our leader.” Marie shares a short laugh. ” You see, I want nothing but the power of our father to shine through.”
“Yes, yes, of course. You want what’s best for the believers. Correct?”
“Yes, and with that said, I want to thank you for the opportunity to share this space in time with your readers. Their belief in our devotion is welcome and cherished. I invite them to contact me for more on our religion and the strength of discovery.”
“Marie, one last question? Are you responsible for the curse on Morgan Latimar? A simple yes or no will suffice.”
“No. It is an insult for you to ask me that question. I curse no one in such a way. My power is to heal. This interview is over. Good day, madam.”