author Lisa Buie-Collard
When a young writer is
kidnapped by a man who can't be seen, her only hope of escape rests on the one
London cop who believes in ghosts.
On a cold, white, before-Christmas day, an
assassin completes a job only to be pursued by police. Dodging through crowded
city streets, the assassin nabs a young woman for cover.
Celia Wight, a reclusive American writer is
shopping between engagements during a book tour. When a knife is pressed
against her back, she loses her tenuous grasp on her carefully controlled
existence.
Assigned to the homicide case, Detective
Alban Thain, of the Metropolitan Police, suspects an assassin he calls the
Wraith. The problem is, only Thain believes the assassin exists. Disregarding
the consequences, Thain, who is the only one who believes there is a connection
between the murder and the kidnapping, will do whatever it takes to exploit the
Wraith’s first and only mistake: the kidnapping of an innocent bystander—if she is innocent.
About author Lisa Buie-Collard:
I am a writer, mother, wife, sister, and daughter. I’ve been a server, dental assistant, teacher, journalist, and gardener. I love to travel and speak French. I’m from north Florida, but now abide in Georgia. I write full time and have completed six novels. Writing is life, life is writing…
I am a writer, mother, wife, sister, and daughter. I’ve been a server, dental assistant, teacher, journalist, and gardener. I love to travel and speak French. I’m from north Florida, but now abide in Georgia. I write full time and have completed six novels. Writing is life, life is writing…
Where to find the author:
Amazon
I Love To Fly (Can You Guess What I Am?)
I love to fly.
Even if there is constantly an element of trust that I must always count on, I
will never give up flying. Sometimes flying is harder than other times.
Sometimes I can only get a few feet off the ground. But mostly I can fly higher
than treetops. I can soar; the only sound is air rushing by my ears. My eyes
love the view. My skin loves the wind. My breath loves wicking away with the
air flow over my face.
Sometimes I hate
landing. When it’s hard and bumpy and parts of me break off, I cry until I’m
fixed. Sometimes I land by softly falling into outstretched hands, gentle and
always happy to hold me. I prefer those landings.
I am a simple
being of simple desires and ideas. I am not grandiose. I am not flamboyant or
made of odd and exciting angles, though I know of those who are. I am distinct
and useful. I provide hours of entertainment while doing what I love best. I
seem to please whomever I am partnered with all over the world, and have for
quite some time. I am loved. I never cease to amuse and test limits.
Then comes a time
when I sit for years, unused, seemingly forgotten, and it is at this time I am
sad, defeated, wondering if my trust and faith will be acknowledged or
rewarded.
But it always is.
There always comes a moment when darkness turns to light, when kind hands
repair and strengthen me, when daylight bursts upon my senses and I excel in
that first long awaited jump into the air. I then breathe. I spread myself as
far as my perfectly formed body can extend and I laugh, I soar, I dive, I live
with every filament of my being. To my utter and profound satisfaction, that is
the instant I truly grasp the greatness of happiness.
I love to fly.
Win! Win! Win!
1 comment:
Ha ha Cynthia! I love what you did with the images! You rock girl!!! I hope someone tries to guess the riddle...
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