PDF Coming Home (The Morgans Book 1)

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Which of the McBride siblings in the Christmas Sisters is your favorite and why? Having been a working mother myself, I really felt for Beth and the dilemma she faces,…with the emotional side of life…. I think that kind of deep personal connection is something we all want, which is possibly why my books sell so well globally. One of the things I enjoyed about writing The Christmas Sisters was the dynamic between the different family members.

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Having been a working mother myself, I really felt for Beth and the dilemma she faces, and my heart broke for Hannah who struggles so hard with the emotional side of life. Individual personalities shine through:- a nervous mother going back to work; a professional terrified by intimacy; an adventure-seeker finding courage through humor, and even a father that needs a refresher course in parenting. Did you map out the whole storyline before you started writing, or did the story arc of each character unfold as you went along?

Did you structure your stand-alone books a little differently? Change the style? In the Harlequin romances I wrote, the focus was on the relationship between the couple. In photography terms I love photography, as you can see from my Instagram! And we learn about characters as we see them operating in different areas of their lives — for example, a heroine might be super confident in her work life, fun with her friends, but less sure in her romantic relationships.

I enjoy exploring the nuances of character, those small subtle differences that make them individual. How do you get the chemistry right between two characters who are attracted to each other on paper? You write this so deftly and make it real-to-life for the reader.

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You want the reader to live the relationship with these characters, to feel the connection and the excitement. How many books did you publish before you decided to become a full-time writer? Had you ever done any writing courses? How do you think your writing has evolved since your first novel? She cut through the crowd, pausing to accept a couple of good wishes. She was never good with receiving compliments or attention, so she smiled, thanked everyone like her parents taught her and kept moving with no real need to strike up a conversation.

She moved up to the bar where KC Kelly, a tall, bald, broad-shouldered man wearing a Hawaiian shirt, polished a set of whiskey glasses fresh from the dishwasher. KC had been her late father's partner in homicide for over twenty-five years. When he retired, he bought Rudy's from the previous owner who had created a place where tourists and locals flocked to hear the up-and-coming talent. When KC took over the honky-tonk, cops initially came to show support for one of their own.

Many discovered they liked Rudy's and that KC could really run a bar. And so the tourists, locals, and cops kept returning to the safest South Broadway bar in Nashville. She took a long sip. The day job has been crazy lately, and I haven't had much time. It was fun. He was joined by her other brother, Rick Morgan, who also worked in the same unit. Third brother, Alex, was the outlier.


Dalton Marlowe was a very rich man whose son was one of three teens who went into Percy Warner Park five years ago. The students, from an exclusive high school called St. Vincent, went hiking in the southwest Nashville park that covered twenty-six hundred acres of wooded land crisscrossed by a dozen backroad trails, bike paths, and dead end roads.

Their plan was to collect data for a science project and return home by dark. When the teens had not reported in that night, search crews had been dispatched. At the end of the second day, volunteers found one of the kids, Amber Ryder, at the bottom of a ravine.

Alex Morgan: Daughter of Diamond Bar [Back Home]

Her arm was badly broken and she suffered a head injury. When she woke up in the hospital the next day, she swore she had no memory of what had happened in the woods. Search crews continued to look for weeks but the two other students, Bethany Reed and Mike Marlowe, were never found. Marlowe has been pressing the Missing Persons Unit relentlessly for answers. This year, he again made a sizable donation to the police foundation, a kind of gesture that expects a return. Marlowe was clear that he didn't want to hear any more bullshit theories about his son Mike and Bethany running off like a modern-day Romeo and Juliet.

She shrugged.

He hopes to kill two birds with one stone. Give me a cold case that I've been clamoring for and pacify the powers that be. It's a win all the way around. But because the case was considered a missing persons investigation, homicide never got a crack at it.

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I think they pulled Buddy in once. So far, I've got eighty hours invested in reading witness statements, search crew reports, interviews, and examining the forensic data. Dark eyes sharpened as they did when he'd been on a homicide investigation. I tracked down her number through her mother, Tracy.

The woman wasn't thrilled to see me or talk, but she gave me a phone number. I've called it a couple of times but so far no return calls. A tall waitress with dark brown hair signaled KC she had an order. He filled three steins with beer and set them in front of her. As he moved back toward Georgia, he faced the register and punched in the order. Georgia swirled her drink in the glass. He shook his head, understanding that stubborn ran as deep in Georgia as it did in her brothers and her late father. You don't want to share?

She leaned forward. Hell, I stayed off his radar just fine and then suddenly I'm right in the middle after he caught one of my shows here. She held up a finger as if reading her lists of cons. I watched Mom do it with Dad and I don't want any part of that. He pulled a bar rag from his shoulder and wiped up the few peanut shells she'd dropped. KC's laughter rumbled. She held up her hands in surrender.

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American Family Portrait

Not a one. Which is why I don't need any more cops in my life. She took a long sip of soda. When she was down to ice, she crunched a few pieces between her teeth. My focus is the case and the case alone. They didn't leave a stone unturned. And none of those guys gets any criticism from me. Hard to solve a case when you don't have bodies, no suspects, and a witness with no memory. Maybe someone knows something and will talk.

Maybe Amber Ryder will call me back and tell me she's remembered something. Skepticism deepened the lines of his face. She fished through the nuts in the bowl searching for a cashew. She tipped her glass up, drinking until she drained the last bit of liquid. Carrie, a tall, thin waitress, wore a tight red Rudy's T-shirt and figure-hugging jeans, placed a drink order with KC.

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Last she heard from KC, Carrie had broken up with the boyfriend that liked to pepper her with bruises. How many times had Georgia had this conversation with Carrie? Too tired to argue, Georgia grabbed a napkin and a pen from behind the bar and scrawled her name and cell phone number on it. You can stay at my place.

One day you might decide that love doesn't have to hurt like that. Carrie crushed the napkin, but she tucked it in her jeans pocket before arranging the beers on her tray.

Nodding, Georgia flattened her palms on the bar, wanting to scream at the woman but unwilling to repeat what she had said a dozen times before. A wry grin twisted her lips as she turned from the waitress now smiling at two middle-aged men dressed in flannel and jeans. Hard not to see what was coming. It's a matter of time. KC shrugged, chasing the fresh tension knotting his shoulders. Crunching ice, she thought about the five calls from Bishop now on her voice mail. As she raised her glass to her lips, fatigue crawled up her spine and reminded her she'd not slept in over twenty hours.