Seeing Clearly is proof-positive that perseverance pays off. I began writing this story in 2008 and worked on it off and on for twelve years. Never quite satisfied with what I’d created, I’d stuff write a bit and stuff it away. The forced quarantine of the pandemic last year provided the opportunity for focus and the completed novel is now available on Amazon for Kindle and paperback.
The moral of my little tale is summed up by this quote from Robert Marston.
“Eventually you’re going to reach the point where just one more attempt, one more effort will bring real success. What a shame it would be to give up just as you reached that point.”
Drugs, murder and the child’s biological father threaten their lives.
Will their search tear them apart or help them see love clearly?
Ex-cop Dawson McKey is consumed by revenge after a cartel's bomb kills his twin sons. He trusts no one and vows payback. He refuses to get close to anyone, let alone fall in love again. But widow Evie Parker challenges his thinking. She's raising her grandson after her only child and his wife die in a suspicious car accident and it's taking a toll.
Alarms go off in Dawson's head when Evie receives threatening emails concerning her grandson. Then Evie’s nanny disappears with Evie's grandson. He knows something is deadly wrong.
The search for the toddler pushes Dawson and Evie to their limits. Can they see clearly enough to find the toddle and each other?
Kindle & Paperback: https:/www.amazon.com/dp/B08768ZJQX
Evie set the house alarm. To humor Dawson, she told herself, but it wasn’t the only reason. Their discussion had been unsettling. What if her son’s gambling addiction had turned her ranch oasis into a bull’s eye?
Nope. Not going there. Life had thrown so much at her lately and she’d survived. She was not going to look for more. She would not become a Dawson. She walked to Michael’s room. He slept soundly.
In her office, she put the baby monitor beside her computer and checked email. One message from Real Daddy caught her attention. I’m coming for Michael.
Strange name. She didn’t remember anyone using that email from the school list. Had someone gotten her email? Had the school given it out? Who was this person? Why had he or she sent her the message?
A prickly sense of unease traveled up her spine. What if this person was somehow connected to the accident? She’d lost her husband and her son. She wouldn’t lose Michael.
The jump to immediate alarm surprised her. She wasn’t usually like that, automatically assuming the worst. She was becoming paranoid like Dawson. The message had to be a mistake. A rare set of coincidences. A fluke.
Pressing the reply icon, she typed, Please check your e-mail address. I got this by mistake. Clicking SEND, she read the rest of her emails.
After a few minutes, the familiar chime of incoming mail sounded. MAIL DELIVERY FAILED: returning message to sender.
A cyber glitch? It happened. She tried again. Again, her message bounced.
She sucked in her breath. Little spiders with ice pick feet danced across her skin. Something wasn’t right. She picked up the phone to call Dawson, then replaced the receiver.
Not a good idea for lots of reasons. If she was going to discourage a relationship, she had to stop relying on him. Her nerves were on high alert after so much had happened. She’d call the school in the morning, see what was going on.
Or, maybe whoever sent the email would figure out that they’d made a mistake. She pressed delete and cut off her computer.