Veronica: My guest today brings us a fun post about how her real life ends up in her books to some extent, plus an excerpt from her new book Saving Molly!
Liza shares how bits of her life end up in her stories.
Once my car died on a turning lane on a moderately busy street. I didn’t have a cell phone, but that didn’t seem to be a problem. Not only did a neighbor drive by and throw me heavy gloves—It was very cold—but another guy asked me if needed help, so I asked him to call the police, which he evidently did, because the officer arrived soon after.
First, the officer wanted to blame my car stopping on me, presuming I ran out of gas. Nope, I had taken my car in for a repair, they screwed the repair up and thus my car had died from a non-charging battery. (Ironically, my car was fine until AFTER I took it in due to a recall over the connections to the battery, which they supposedly had fixed early that morning.) In other words, I didn’t have a problem until they “fixed” the problem.
Anyway, the officer asked me to sit in the back of his car so he could ask me some questions. (There are two people with my name in my little town and he needed my social security number to determine which I was. I really didn’t want to give him my social security number. The other person with my name was an old woman, so how much trouble could she possibly be in? This had to be a case of two well-behaved citizens with the same name.)
Still, it was cold, so I happily jumped inside and quickly discovered there is NO, make that ZERO, foot room. So I asked why. The officer explained that it is a safety feature. If I were being arrested, I would be asked to slid my feet in while the door was open. Then upon closing the door, my feet would be trapped leaving me immobilized so I can’t kick out windows with my feet.
Don’t laugh. I know someone who did that once. (She’d been drinking.) So I couldn’t argue with the tiny leg space, but it was uncomfortable! Once I answered all his questions, I left and returned to my cold dead car to wait for my tow.
(Recently, I’ve received a notice that the doors of my new car may open without warning. I have yet to take it in for repairs in fear that if I do, my doors will then open without warning.)
Sometimes even the strong require a helping hand.
Molly Brown always faces life with a smile, even when a frightening thug is intent upon killing her. At first, Detective Sean Cushing finds Molly’s cheery disposition unnatural, especially when he discovers the seriousness of her injuries. When she asks for police protection, he instead offers her a job and home being a nanny to his five-year-old daughter, hoping her cheery disposition can pull his child from her dark hole of misery. Never did he expect he’d be proposing marriage within a day, but life has a way of going in odd directions when Molly Brown is involved.
Sean was on Broadway going south coming up to the stated crossroads. He scanned the crowded sidewalk before him but saw no one running or jogging. However, a blonde in her early twenties seemed to be getting a lot of people’s attention as she walked by.
He knew he had the right girl when he noticed people stopped after she passed and pulled out their cell phones. He slowed, following behind her, trying to fathom her game. Was she a pickpocket with a unique distraction or just an inconsiderate prankster?
A guy she passed pointed out Sean’s police car to her. He expected the young woman to run like hell at the sight of NYPD. Instead, she smiled and waved at Sean as if he were her best friend. She hobbled to his car, flapping her hands like a broken winged bird. He pulled the car to the side, made sure the doors were locked, and rolled down the passenger window two inches. He’d long ago learned to never trust the citizens of New York; no matter how benign they might appear.
Sure enough, the girl grabbed the door handle and repeatedly pulled on it. “Can you let me in? I’m being chased by a very scary man.” She said this with such cheeriness that he had no idea what to make of her claim.
She glanced up the sidewalk, in the direction she had come, and for the first time, he saw a flash of true fear in her face. She turned back to him and smiled. “If I commit a crime, will you arrest me even if you’re off-duty?”
He didn’t have time for this shit. His daughter expected him home hours ago. She’d probably fallen asleep crying again.
“Lady, go home and see a shrink.” He checked the traffic to pull back into it and would have driven off if he hadn’t noticed in his side mirror, three blocks back, a drug dealer named DTX cutting a path down the sidewalk, literally knocking people out of his way.
The brutish thug was six-eight, built like a tank, with black bushy hair, and a scar on his left cheek.
A loud thump hit the right side of his car. He refocused on the blonde, hopping on one leg in a circle.
He shoved the gearshift into park, stormed around, and stared at the dent she’d made in his door panel. “That’s it. You’re under arrest.” He opened the back door, and pushed her inside. He must have used more force than he intended, because the girl flew off the seat and fell into the floorboard.
Several of the commuters and tourists bantered about the dreaded word: ‘police brutality’. He hoped to God none had caught the incident on a cell phone because he was pretty certain it looked a lot worse than he had intended. He hadn’t meant to send her flying into the back seat, and certainly not into the narrow foot space, but that’s where she was now.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Liza O’Connor lives in Denville, NJ with her dog Jess. They hike in fabulous woods every day, rain or shine, sleet or snow. Having an adventurous nature, she learned to fly small Cessnas in NJ, hang-glide in New Zealand, kayak in Pennsylvania, ski in New York, scuba dive with great white sharks in Australia, dig up dinosaur bones in Montana, sky dive in Indiana, and raft a class four river in Tasmania. She’s an avid gardener, amateur photographer, and dabbler in watercolors and graphic arts. Yet through her entire life, her first love has and always will be writing novels.
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Saving Casey (Requires Rescue Book 1):
When eighty-year-old Cass Goldman learns she has inoperable cancer, she decides to end her life, peacefully on her terms. So imagine her horror when she wakes to find herself in a hospital with strange rich people staring at her. It’s not until the doctor arrives to examine her that she realizes she’s no longer old. She’s in the body of a seventeen-year-old teen named Casey.
Unfortunately, her new body comes with some serious baggage. First of all, the kid has burned every bridge imaginable. Secondly, those ‘people’ in her room are her outrageously rich parents and while the Dad seems friendly, the mother wants nothing to do with her. The moment they take her home to a horrifically huge mansion, which she dubs Tara, she’s abandoned to the care of the butler.
While Cass is determined to turn this train wreck of a life around, doing so is far harder than she expected. In fact, without help, she’ll end up dead just like the last occupant of this body. Thankfully, her dad has his hunky head of security become her bodyguard. Between her eighty years of life lessons and hunky Troy’s help, she just might live long enough not to be jail bait.