Thanks so much for having me here, Krista. I'd like to talk
about my latest romantic suspense murder mystery released in January. I hope
your readers are hooked!
Most of my new novel The
Mason's Mark is set at the George Washington National Masonic Memorial.
Three hundred and thirty-three feet tall, it sits atop Shuter’s Hill
overlooking the colonial city of Alexandria, Virginia. Each level of the tower
has a special theme. For example, the ninth level is sponsored by the Tall
Cedars of Lebanon, an adjunct group of the Masons, and depicts how King
Solomon's throne room would look. The rooms get dramatically smaller as you go
up the levels, and the elevators that begin 61 feet apart on the first floor
are only four and a half feet apart by the time you reach the top. The ninth
floor opens onto an observation platform, from which visitors can see a
panorama of Old Town spires and the white marble monuments of Washington, DC. Unfortunately
for Claire, heroine of The
Mason's Mark, she saw something else, equally spectacular but much more
frightening.
But wait! There's more! The fourth floor of the tower
contains a museum dedicated to George Washington. Washington served as the Charter
(first) Master of the Alexandria lodge, and many of his letters and memorabilia
are housed here, including the Washington family Bible. Since our heroine and
hero meet in the museum, it follows that the
Mason's Mark would also involve long lost papers, distant family scandals,
and academic intrigue concerning our first President. Expect delicious mystery
and even more delicious romance in this complex web of intrigue that is The
Mason's Mark.
Here's the story:
In both the best and worst first day at work ever, docent Claire Wilding meets the man of her
dreams, but her carefully rehearsed guided tour of the George Washington
National Masonic Memorial falls apart when she discovers a dead body. Together
with Detective Ernest Angle, she's drawn into a dark world of black ops and
Italian renegade masons. Also cloaked in mystery is her new love Gideon
Bliss. A George Washington expert, he
haunts the Memorial, his manner evasive. What is his secret? Claire fears
she'll fall in love with him only to learn he's a thief or even a murderer.
Juggling two eccentric mothers, an inquisitive sister, and
an increasingly smitten Ernest, Claire must find answers to a complex web of
intrigue, including which black ops agent to trust, whether our first president strayed, and if
she and Gideon will ever be together.
The Mason's
Mark:
Love and Death in the Tower
(an Old Town Romance)
Secret Cravings Publishing, 2014
79,000 words, Romantic suspense, M/F, 3 flames
79,000 words, Romantic suspense, M/F, 3 flames
Buy Links: Secret Cravings Publishing Amazon B&N
Excerpt (PG): Gideon Comes Back
When they reached
Prince Street Gideon found a parking spot directly in front of her house, no
small feat. Just one more way he’s special, thought Claire glumly. He walked
her to her door. She unlocked it and turned to thank him, but he was already on
his way to his car.
Ichabod greeted her
with a snarl.
“I know. I forgot to
feed you. Come on, Icky.” She found a can of cat food and emptied it into his
bowl. Then she poured herself a large glass of water and took it to the living
room to conduct an analysis of the evening.
So
at any point did I come across as even semi-coherent?
She tried to hack through the warm, fuzzy blanket of the evening. Gideon had
been the perfect gentleman, ordering foie gras and champagne, pointing out the
constellations with obvious expertise, helping her in and out of the car. It
all seemed so…unreal. Like he was acting
a part. Too perfect. And he’d sucked her in like soda through a straw. She
slapped her forehead, forgetting that she still held the glass. Water sluiced
across her face and ran down her front. She mopped it up with some tissues and
vowed to hit the antique stores that weekend. I’ve got to get a coffee table. Preferably one with cup holders.
The doorbell rang. With
the disintegrating tissue pressed to her face, she stood on tiptoe to check the
peephole and looked straight into an unblinking sea-green ocean. Gideon. After a minute she remembered to
open the door.
He stared at her with
concern. “Are you all right?”
Claire pulled the
tissue away and noticed black streaks on it. Her mascara must have run. Oh no, I bet he thinks I’ve been crying. She
rubbed her eyes, hoping that wasn’t making it worse. “Fine. I spilled a glass
of water, that’s all.”
“Oh.” He stood,
shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Um, could I come in for a
minute?”
She pointed at the
living room and backed away, then turned and leapt up the steps. A quick look
in the mirror confirmed her suspicions. I
look like something Ichabod’s been playing with. She fixed her face, wrung
out her blouse, and returned with renewed aplomb.
Gideon filled the small
space. Claire sidled around him and sat on a packing crate. He looked around
the room. “So…er, have you just moved in?”
“Yes.” It struck her
that he was more uncomfortable than she and drew strength from that. “About a
week ago. Sorry about the mess. Won’t you have a seat?”
He dropped down on the
loveseat but immediately sprang back up. He patted his rear, flummoxed. “Why am
I wet?”
Claire put a hand to
her mouth to suppress the giggle. “Ooh, I’m sorry. I forgot. That’s where I
spilled the water. Here, let me.”
She retrieved a towel
from the kitchen and began to dab at the dark blotch on his khakis. He stood it
for a minute, then put a hand under her chin and lifted her up. “You’d better
stop doing that. This is hard enough for me.” He blinked. “Do you…do you know
how beautiful you are?”
The question threw her.
How to respond? Yes? No? Tell me more?
She decided to let him talk.
“Your eyes are the
color of the deepest part of the Caribbean Sea on a cloudless day. I could sink
into them and drown.” He touched her brow. “And these little cinnabar ringlets
framing that soft, creamy face…” He wrapped one around his finger. “Wind one up
tight and it could strangle me.” He took her hand. “Your fingers—so slim and
delicate, like little stilettos. Sharp enough to gouge an eye out.”
Claire stepped away
from him, bewildered. “You make me sound like a vicious animal. Why?”
His hands dropped to
his sides. “Because I sense how dangerous you are.”
“Dangerous?”
“To me. Claire…I—” He
gazed at her helplessly.
Someone
had better take charge.
****
Biography
Although she has lived or traveled in every continent except
Antarctica and Australia (bucket list), M. S. Spencer has spent the last thirty
years mostly in Washington, D.C. as a librarian, Congressional staff assistant,
speechwriter, editor, birdwatcher, kayaker, policy wonk, non-profit director
and parent. Blessed with two fabulous grown children, she has published eight
romantic suspense/mystery novels. In an excess of optimism, she has recently
heaved the entire ho to Florida with a detour to Maine, leaving behind the
cherry blossoms, the monuments, and the political hacks.
Please
contact me here:
Twitter: www.twitter.com/msspencerauthor
Facebook: www.facebook.com/M.S.SpencerAuthor
AUTHOR
PAGES:
Secret
Cravings Publishing: http://store.secretcravingspublishing.com/index.php?main_page=products_all&filter_author=56
Hi everyone--sorry I havent checked in earlier--my neighbor had a medical crisis and I'm finally home! Thanks Krista for having me--I hope your readers enjoy the excerpt and want to read the whole book! M. S.
ReplyDeleteI had no idea the building was so strange. I'll have to check it out.
ReplyDeleteIt's a fascinating place--including not only lots of exhibits on all the different organizations like Shriners, but also a very good collection of stuff on Washington. The combination of mysterious Masons and old rumors about George was impossible to resist weaving into a story. Thanks for reading!
ReplyDelete