Today my little zombie friends, I'm turning my blog over to a good friend, Keira Kroft. I'll let her tell you about herself and her book.
Take it away, Keira!!!
Hello, my name is Keira Kroft and I am the author of romantic suspense, Glow in the Dark,
Marie has been so kind as to let me and my hot fireman visit her awesome blog today.
Single mother Corey Nolan thinks that her life has made a turn for the better, when she meets three handsome firemen from Chicago’s engine 25. Until her daughter’s life is threatened and someone tries to burn Corey and her family alive.
Corey is a bartender and would like to share the following drink recipe with you.
750 mls southern comfort
12 ozs lemonade concentrate (thawed)
12 ozs orange juice concentrate (thawed)2 liters of sprite
2 pints of Rainbow sherbet
Place all the ingredients in a large punch bowl. It stays cold for quite a while.
Enjoy~ Corey Nolan, Character in Glow in the Dark
Jake the fireman shares this safety tip.
Choose a safe meeting place outside the house.
Practice alerting other members. It is a good idea to keep a bell and flashlight in each bedroom.
Be Safe~ Jake Gilroy, Character in Glow in the Dark
Women melt around smokin’ hot Chicago fire fighter Jake Gilroy like butter in a hot pan, getting him dubbed the clichéd and rather false moniker…“the ladies man”. Yet, he never had an interest in anyone, until he meets Corey. She’s different and doesn’t seem to be turning into a pool of goo around him. He wants her and must have her. But she is already taken so he can’t have her…can he?
At first Corey Nolan is resistant to Jake’s advances until a series of events proves that the love between her and her dead beat boyfriend have dissipated a long time ago. It’s then that she begins to think that she and Jake just might have a chance at something real. Until—it becomes clear that someone is stalking her and killing off the people she loves and that her need for Jake may be more than desire—it may be a matter of life and death...
The first Chapter of Glow in the Dark
The doorway stood empty. The entire corridor appeared abandoned, except for the occasional nurse scurrying by, even that was very far and few between.
Please God, please.
Corey Nolan surveyed her languid five-year old. One minute she had been fine—in the blink of an eye she was here, hooked up to a ventilator to help her breathe, a tube stuck up her nose, another one down her throat and a needle jammed in her tiny hand. The cuff on her arm wrapped around to check her blood pressure periodically. A gray plastic clip clamped to her tiny finger measured her oxygen levels.
Please, Molly needs to wake up.
She wasn’t sure that imploring a higher power would work. But it didn’t make one bit of difference; she was willing to try anything. Whatever it took, anything she had to do… it would be done.
Corey released her hands from their prayer position, and slowly stood up from the orange plastic chair, moving her head from side to side until her neck cracked. Her muscles were tight from sitting half the night in the chilly room. The neatly molded corners and freshly waxed taupe-colored floor, with scattered orange triangles and lack of curtains or any homey touches whatsoever, gave the room an unfriendly aura. The large round clock adhered to the wall revealed that it was after nine in the morning already.
Where was her mother? What could be keeping her? Added fear and anxiety was not something she wanted to deal with right now. Her heart pounded as she glanced at her daughter once again. Strength and positive thinking was what Molly needed right now. Corey couldn’t afford to break down.
Molly was so sweet, innocent, and trusting. Corey would have done anything to protect her. It was too late. She couldn’t protect Molly just like her parents couldn’t protect her. She stifled a sob.
Trudging to the other side of the room, she laid a hand against the locker that passed for a closet. The cold metal beneath the gray paint gave her a chill. Images of the man that had made her life unbearable for everyone she loved swarmed in her vision. His face appeared in her head, laughing at her, tormenting her.
“Go away!” she screamed.
Slowly, she turned toward the hall wondering if anyone had heard. They would have probably thought she was crazy. They’d take one look at her and lock her up, maybe throw the key away. If any stranger witnessed her outburst, they would not have understood what the last year had been like for her—for all her loved ones.
Corey threw another glance at her daughter. Her tirade didn’t breed any response from a comatose Molly, or any of the staff for that matter.
Jerking the door open, she grabbed the blanket and clutched it to her chest, willing the tension away. She needed to stay sane, in control—anything to help her daughter. Composing herself and releasing her tight grip, she shook the blanket open as she walked over to Molly. She then tucked her daughter in tight and read her a story, just as she had done every night for five years. Except now, it wasn’t dark outside and Molly wasn’t tucked safe in her own bed. She’d been told it was good to read to patients in a coma. Halfway through The Cat in the Hat, her eyes brimmed with despair, and she couldn’t make out the rest of the words.
“I love you,” she whispered, her voice cracking. She set the book aside and stroked Molly’s hair. The usual silkiness was dull and luster-lacking. Smoothing a stray strand, she drew away and straightened. Her daughter’s pale face didn’t move. No twitch of her eyes, no quirk of her mouth, no flutter of her lips when she breathed out during sleep.
“Stay strong, Corey.” The words said out loud didn’t help. She should have been telling Molly to be brave, but her own strength was trickling away with every hour Molly lay silent.
Desperation formed a knot in her throat. Needing a minute away to pull herself back together, she whirled around quickly, almost knocking a vase over, but catching it before it shattered to the floor—just as her nerves threatened to do. Corey could barely put it back on the bureau in one piece, her hands trembling. Stifling the sob that threatened to erupt, she bolted to the bathroom.
She stood in front of the sink and stared into the mirror. Leaning in, she pulled the taunt skin under her eyes downward. The dark circles looked terrible along with the black streak marks over her skin. If Jake could see her now, he probably wouldn’t think she was all that great of a catch. Damn, how embarrassing am I with all this soot on my face, my arms, and my clothes?
“Who cares right now?” she mumbled, and then marched back to her daughter’s bedside. She plopped down into the chair and gently placed Molly’s IV-ed hand into hers. Careful not cause her daughter any more pain, she gripped those tiny, precious fingers. “I don’t know what I can do? I can tell you that I will love you—for always. You breathe a special life into the large part of my heart. If you go away, it will die.” Emotion choked her. She sobbed, unable to hold it in any longer.
She didn’t know how much time had passed. Deep breaths were the only thing that could calm her at this point. With her free hand, she pulled out her cell phone and pressed a number on the keypad. Placing the phone to her ear, she kept her gaze on Molly; her serene expression brought another rush of tension to Corey’s chest. She breathed harder, trying to control the uneasy pacing of her heart.
“I am trying your grandmother again. She is late as usual.”
Molly continued to lay unmoving. Corey bit her lip as the ringing sounded through the device. Come on, Mom, where are you? I need you. This isn’t like you. Faith Nolan was still not picking up.
Corey dropped the phone onto the bureau and stood up, anger surging through her. With arms stretched out, she glared at the ceiling. “Is this my punishment, you tell me? Yes, you—that thing, that being I assume is watching over us, protecting us. Ha! That day I was told by my doctor that my heart was too weak to carry Molly—” She fell to her knees. “I did it anyway. So, this is it, my penance, right?”
Crawling to Molly’s bedside, Corey gripped her baby’s small fingers. “I won’t let you take her, I won’t.”
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