I'm thrilled to announce the release of the next installment of the Miranda's Rights Mystery series. Fire Dancer: Book IV (A Miranda’s Rights Mystery) is finally available on most channels. You can read the first chapter below. I really loved writing this book. I hope you all enjoy it!
Fire Dancer: Book IV (A Miranda's Rights Mystery)
What makes you think you deserve to be so happy?
A
honeymoon in Maui in a luxury beachfront resort with your wealthy new
husband. Sounds like paradise, right? But this is Miranda Steele we’re
talking about here. And where Miranda goes, trouble follows.
That
lovely honeymoon gets hijacked when Miranda finds the body of a
popular fire dancer on the beach. Of course, she has to investigate.
What choice does she have? But things get more complicated when she
discovers Parker has been keeping some pretty serious secrets from her.
Could
those secrets lead to finding Miranda’s daughter at last? Or will this
Hawaiian honeymoon adventure end in Miranda’s ultimate destruction?
* * * *
Fire Dancer: Book IV (A Miranda’s Rights Mystery)
WARNING
Stay clear of blowholes. They can lead to death.
Chapter One
He awoke and found himself underwater.
Sharp
panic clawed his insides but somehow he was holding his breath. The
open shirt he’d been wearing billowed around him, churning with the
cold, raging water. He wanted to shiver. Instead, as if automatically,
he began to swim.
The blowhole. He was in the blowhole.
As hard as he could, he battled the swirling waves. Harder. Faster.
It
seemed like an hour before he broke through the water’s surface. At
last his head came up and he gasped in air. He drank in more, more. But
just as he thought he’d caught his breath, the dark current seized him
again. He managed to take in one more gulp before it dragged him down
again—and under.
His lungs burned. The pain was unbearable.
His
panic climbed to a frenzied terror. He struggled to keep swimming but
the waves battered against him, weakening him until he felt like an old
man. Still, he forced his arms to move, his feet to kick. After an
eternity, the current reversed and forced him up again.
He paddled
with his arms and legs as hard as he could. As the water gushed over him
like a geyser, his head finally burst through the surface once more.
He couldn’t see, even in the moonlight. There was too much blood in his eyes.
He threw his head back and once more gasped in wonderful, sweet air. His vision cleared a little.
Rocks.
Right there. The edge of the blowhole. He reached out for them. Slid. Reached again.
The
surface was too slippery. His hands were numb. He couldn’t pull himself
out of the hole. Another wave would come over the lava wall soon. The
waves were monstrous tonight, the sea at her angriest.
Refusing to give up, he reached again.
This
time, he found a knob in the formation. Just beyond it was an
indentation, forming a sort of handle. The pang of hope in his chest
nearly burst his heart. He grabbed onto the knob and struggled to heave
himself out of the water.
Part way up. A little more. His chest ached, his arms shook with fatigue. One more tug. Just one more and he’d be out.
But he couldn’t do it.
His
arms gave out. His hand slipped. He cried out and slid back down into
the swirling water. He could hear the roar of the next wave gathering.
His heart pounded.
Think. Think.
He was still wearing his
clothes. His open shirt. It might save him. Once again, he reached out
for the knobby rock. With the last bit of strength he had, he tied the
tail of his shirt around the outcropping. Maybe it would hold him up and
keep him from being swept out to sea.
But just as he secured the
cloth, the mountainous wave shot over the lava wall and rained down on
him like a tsunami. It forced him down, down.
The water rose over his head. His shirt slipped off his body, caught around his neck.
But his shirttail held. He tried to grab onto it, use it like a rope, but his arm was twisted at the wrong angle.
Panic
seized him. He fought hard. He had to reach the surface again but his
strength was giving out. He couldn’t hold his breath much longer. He
thrashed the water with his feet, beat it with his arms. He was so
tired. His muscles, his ribs ached like fire. He couldn’t hold his
breath. It was too much.
He fought to keep his mouth shut but his
throat spasmed. His chest convulsed. Terror pounded in his eardrums. He
would not open his mouth. He would not. Just a little longer.
But he couldn’t do it.
Of their own will, his lips sputtered and his jaw snapped open. He gasped and water flowed down his throat.
His
body jerked. He gagged and coughed but that only made him take in more
water. He was flailing now, his body convulsing. His head felt light. As
if he were in a dream. He tried to wake up but he could hardly move.
Time seemed to stretch out into an endless vacuum.
His kicks slowed. His arms began to drift. His efforts to breathe ceased. And then there was blackness. He was still.
It was over.
Still tethered to the rock by his shirttail, his body bobbed in the waves as his life slipped out of him and into the sea.
Fire Dancer: Book IV (A Miranda's Rights Mystery)