Debut Novel: In the Presence of Wolves
It would have been easy for Riley to die for her family…the hard part was living without them. Veterinarian Riley Stuart awakens to a home invasion that leaves her family dead. After a year of depression, she is left with an unsolved murder case, mandated counseling, and an unfulfilled sense of justice.
When her family’s homicide case turns cold, Riley realizes the only way it will be solved is if she finds the answers herself, deciding that the likelihood of getting caught or killed is a fair price to pay. With the help of her godfather, Riley soon discovers that the home invasion was just a small part of a huge drug industry conducted by the largest gang in the country. Meanwhile, Riley must complete her counseling sessions, lest she be held in contempt of court, but without disclosing her vigilante plans. While her primary confidant is her late daughter’s tabby cat, Riley sympathizes with her peers in grievance counseling, fueling her desire for justice. Matters are complicated when the police detective and a new mentor become more interested in her than she anticipated.
This book has not yet been published.
Poetry Collection
I know, I know. You’re probably thinking “Poetry? Boring!” Well, you may not be thinking of the same type of poetry that I like. If you like music lyrics or a good story, you might like my poetry. Not all poems are flowery happily-ever-afters. While some might give you warm fuzzies, others might punch you in the gut, rip your heart out, or simply help you see the world in a different view.
Candles for a Ghost
My schedule was once filled
with dates to see your face,
but that has long since passed
as you make them erase.
Of your priorities
I know I’m bottommost
and when I wait for you
I light candles for a ghost.
You have no time for me.
“Important” things come up.
I wait in futile hope
past the rays of sunup.
I know I make no sense —
insane — so say the most,
but I can’t help myself
I light candles for a ghost.
Our tickets are not punched.
Dinners go uneaten.
Weary chess is played here.
You will not be beaten.
Maybe I am dumbstruck.
With you I am engrossed.
How many fools would stay
to light candles for a ghost?
One more full-fledged promise.
This one you’ll surely keep.
Could you really fail me
another time this week?
To wait would make you glad.
To please you is my post,
but in my heart I know
I light candles for a ghost.
Italicana Enamorada
I come to thee from shadowed mars
twixt booted land and boreal stars.
My tongue derived from Latin song,
I pray for thee in nights drawn long.
An olive touch can offer guide,
a heart unarmed from selfish pride.
These Moorish eyes can be deceived.
By thee how will I be received?
Then Maybe
I wish you would have given me
black eyes and broken ribs
instead of broken promises
and honest little fibs.
Then maybe I could hate you.
Then maybe I could see
you’re lemon to a paper cut
and squeeze fresh blood from me.
I wish that you would die in vain —
the hero that you chose —
and die a quick and painless death
dressed in your soldier’s clothes.
Then maybe you would vanish.
Then maybe you’d be gone.
I’d grieve and then be rid of you,
be able to move on.
I wish you would return to me
and pick up where we were
before you left to fight the war,
the choice you most preferred.
Then maybe I could leave you.
Then maybe you’d leave me.
Either way would not be limbo.
My tears would not run free.