New Excerpt, a New Winner, and Time to Help The Reviewer!!!!

Look for the first excerpt from The Prodigal's Return below...but first, I have what's becoming a "predictable" bone to pick with the RT reviewer for the Superromance line. And I need your help with a little grammer experiment ;O)

Once upon a time, there was an RT reviewer who loved my depiction of small, non-costal southern towns, dramatic families, and heavily emotional romance...unfortunately, she only stuck around long enough to review my first book, and since then I seem to be boring her replacement to death. While I've won awards, wowed countless other reviewers and received thousands of emails and letters from readers who say my stories get better and better with each book, I swear the current RT reviewer never makes it past the back cover copy before she nods off to sleep the night before her copy is due.

Which is fine. One person's perspective is just that, the subjective likes and dislikes of one person. And them's the breaks in this business. She's given each of my subsequent boosk 3s, while they've all earned 5 Stars from most other reviewers, to which I say, thank goodness for the variety that makes up the reading (and reviewing) public. A 3 is decent...nothing wrong with the book, it just didn't get her rocks off.

But then there's that word, predictable...she's used it twice now for my books. For The Runaway Daughter (which other reviewers have called "riviting, thrilling, and spine-tingling"). And now for The Prodigal's Return (which has already been called, "The Best Yet!" and "A Wonderful Story" by reviewers and NYT Bestselling Author Haywood Smith).

The RT reviewer is trying to be nice, I think. She's used words like "somewhat" predictable, and this last time, "a bit predictable." But you see, I don't want to be somewhat or a bit of anything in my writing. Like me or don't. Get the story, or put it down...but don't suffer through reading something that's a bit too anything...at least not something of mine.

My theory is, this particular reviewer's reading the back cover copy, seeing that my stories are emotional family drama set in a small southern towns, feels her stomach start to turn, and writes the review based on the back of the book.

For instance, in The Prodigal's Return alone, you'll find not just the central romance about two prodigals come home to deal with their past, but two fully developed secondary plots with each of their fathers, a secondary plot with a pregnant teen and the trouble she has with her parents, a surprise stalker, and the most important secondary issue of all, watching one of the beloved characters slowly losing his battle with an illness, and how everyone learns to say goodbye and to cherish the time they have together. None of which is covered in the few paragraphs on the back. So you can understand the reviewer's challenge if she doesn't take the time to read between the covers...it's a theory, that's all I'm saying.

Anyhoodle, this week's giveaways (when the books from RT run out, I'll include advance copies of The Prodigal's Return, which will be part of an eHarlequin bookclub thread next month, so you'll have your copy in time to read it and join in) will be all about helping the RT reviewer come up with some more descriptive words to replace predictable... Leave a suggestion, save a reviewer from phoning it in...maybe even win a prize ;O)

I'll start. I know you creative folks will find even more useful suggestions for her:

Maybe by predictable, she really means...complex and requiring more than a casual glance to understand the subtleties of the story themes...

Okay, on to our Friday/weekend winner...lesliedt23!! There are only a few books left, or you could pick The Prodigal's Return if you don't mind waiting for my author copies to arrive. Here's the list of remaining RT books. Email me your choice and mailing addie:

Darker Than Midnight--Maggie Shayne
On Blue Falls Pond--Susan Crandall
Chill of Fear (Hard Cover!!!)--Kay Hooper

And as promised...the first (dare I say it, NOT predictable) excerpt of The Prodigal's Return. I don't usually begin stories in prologue, but this is an epic love story interrupted, and the story begins when our hero and heroine's lives fall apart... You can buy the book now through eharlequin.com, or look for it around the 10th of July in stores near you ;O)

***

Prologue

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?" a courtroom officer asked sixteen-year-old Jennifer Gardner.

"What?" She blinked at the bailiff who stood before the witness box, tearing her gaze away from where Neal Cain slouched beside his father at the defendant's table.

Tell the truth.

That's what Neal wanted her to do, or so his dad had said.

He knows the prosecutor's going to call you to testify, Mr. Cain had insisted as he'd prepped her that morning--more a surrogate father at that moment than the county's top litigator. Don't be afraid. Just answer the DA's questions, and everything will be fine.

But normally fun-loving Mr. Cain looked worried. After his wife's death ten years ago, he'd built his world around his son and his law practice. Now, Neal was on trial for involuntary manslaughter.

Mr. Cain didn't believe everything was going to be fine any more than Jenn did.

"Miss Gardner?" Judge Pritchard's voice dragged her attention to where he sat on a dais beside her. "Even though this is merely an arraignment to determine if a trial is warranted, your are required to speak the full and complete truth, under risk of perjury. Do you understand?"

She nodded, and the legal preceding began, with every eye in the room locked on her, all of them but Neal's. She fought not to throw up as the district attorney took the bailiff's place and forced her to relive the worst night of her life, one painful memory at a time. Like a vulture, he honed in on the fact that she'd allegedly chosen to leave the homecoming dance early, to walk the mile and a half home, alone, in her formal gown.

"Did you by any chance arrange to meet Bobby Compton at his car?" The ugly suspicion in DA Burnside's question echoed what many in town had been thinking for weeks.

"No!" Jenn said to the entire courtroom. "I was going home. That's all."

Good little Jennifer Gardner, her father's secretary had whispered to Mary Jo Reece last Sunday. She hadn't noticed Jenn and her mother sitting only a pew away, so why bother with the charity and tolerance Jenn's pastor father expected from his staff. I just can't believe it. The preacher's daughter, making out in the school parking lot. Drinking. Lord knows what else. And those two boys fighting over her. She was leading them both on, everyone thinks so. What else could it have been...

"I didn't know I'd run into Bobby when I left," Jenn said through tears that blurred the DA's face.

"Your statement to the sheriff says you became angry with Bobby Compton at the dance." Mr. Burnside made a show of reading notes from a file.

"Yes, because--"

"Yet you left early without your date, so you could have a private moment with the boy in a deserted parking lot? A boy the defendant had just been fighting with."

"Yes--no! I left early, but not to talk with Bobby. It wasn't like that."

The DA's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "You told the sheriff you got into Bobby Compton's car."

"I couldn't let him drive home the way he was." She glanced at her dad.

Concern filled Joshua Gardner's eyes. Sadness. Disappointment that she'd never seen before a few weeks ago. Never thought was possible. Not from the man who'd been her hero. Her rock.

"Drunk, you mean?" the lawyer asked.

"What?"

"You stopped because you thought Bobby was drunk?"

"Yes. I... I'd seen him drinking at the dance."

"And were you and Neal drunk as well?"

"No!" she insisted over the debate that erupted amongst the onlookers.

Her parents and their pricey Atlanta lawyer had insisted she not speak about that night to anyone before now. Not even to defend herself against the rumors flying all over town.

"But you had been drinking with the deceased?"

"Y... Yes." Her father closed his eyes, crossed his arms, as the courtroom's attention shifted his way. It had sent shock waves through the county, the preacher's child admitting to the police that she'd been drinking since she was thirteen. "Bobby, Neal and some of the other football players snuck some beer in. A lot of us were drinking it, but Neal and I weren't dru--"

"But Neal and Bobby had been fighting before you decided to leave the dance?"

"Y...yes."

"Because Mr. Compton kissed you on the dance floor?"

"Bobby... He'd just broken up with Stephie Blake. He was upset. I was talking with him, trying to make him feel better... To get him to stop drinking. He said I was being so sweet, that Neal was lucky... then... I'm not really sure how it happened, but--"

"Bobby Compton kissed you?"

She chewed her lip, shuddering at the memory of the argument that had followed. Bobby trying to shrug off Neal's hand. Hauling her even closer. Neal's accusing glare as it shifted between her and his best friend. Her plea to Bobby to stop it. To let her go.

"Miss Gardner?" the DA pressed.

"Yes." Neal wouldn't look at her, no matter how long she stared. He hadn't spoken to her since the night Bobby died. "He kissed me."

Shock whispered through the room.

"And he and the defendant fought?"

"They... Neal was angry, and Bobby wasn't thinking straight."

"How long have you and the defendant been dating?"

"Almost two years." The most perfect years of her life.

"Yet, you kissed his best friend right in front of him?"

"Bobby kissed me--"

"Would it surprise you to learn, that I have eye-witnesses from that night who would testify to the contrary? Maybe you wanted your boyfriend to see you kissing--"

"Objection, Your Honor." Mr. Cain shot to his feet. "Miss Gardner's behavior is not on trial. It's irrelevant to these proceedings who kissed whom, or why."

It took several pounds of the judge's gavel to settle the room.

"Mr. Burnside," he warned. "Keep your questions focussed on the defendant's actions."

"So," the prosecutor continued with a nod. "The defendant and the Bobby Compton fought over you at the homecoming dance. Mr. Compton left. Then you followed him."

"I didn't follow Bobby."

The DA laid his folder on the witness box's ledge. It was open to a report that ended with Neal's signature. "The statement the defendant gave the sheriff says that when he found you, you were inside the car with Bobby."

"Ye... yes. I took Bobby's keys away so he couldn't drive home. He asked me to sit with him while he cleared his head."

"You sat together?"

"Yes."

"In his car?"

"Ye... Yes."

"And then?"

Jenn swallowed the lump her breakfast kept making in her throat. "Bobby grabbed me again."

"Your Honor!" Mr. Cain was on his feet once more. Neal stayed seated, his fists clenched on the tabletop.

"I tried to stop him," she insisted.

"Get to your point, Mr. Burnside," Judge Pritchard warned.

The DA placed his hands on his hips, every speck of friendly gone from his unsmiling face.

"Miss Gardner, please describe for the court Neal Cain's reaction when he found you trying to stop the advances of his best friend."

"Neal was angry. He was hurt."

A hollow weight filled her chest. If Neal would only let her close again, maybe then she could survive everyone else deserting her, even her parents. She searched his downcast features, desperate for any sign that he hadn't given up--on both himself and her.

DA Burnside retrieved the folder from in front of her. "The defendant pulled Bobby Compton from the car?"

"Yes." Her stomach took another threatening roll upward.

"And they began to fight again."

"Yes."

"And the defendant hit the victim."

"They were hitting each other." She swiped at her tears. If only there was some way to wipe away the memories. "I tried to stop them--"

"You tried to stop the defendant?"

"Yes... No! Both of them. I tried to stop them both."

"But you couldn't."

"No. And then Bobby fell and he... He hit his head against the curb."

After a long pause, the DA plucked more papers from his briefcase. "The police report states that while Bobby Compton received a blow to the head--one we now know was the contributing cause of his death--the defendant escaped the confrontation with little more than a black eye. If they were fighting each other, as you say, how do you account for the defendant's lack of injuries?"

"I don't know." She gripped the edge of her straight-back chair. "Maybe because Bobby was drunk, and Neal was--"

"Angry?" the DA offered.

"Neal didn't mean to hurt him." She turned to address the judge directly. "They were best friends."

"But Bobby Compton was hurt," the DA interjected. "He was taken to the hospital in an ambulance, where he later died. While Neal Cain spent that night, and every night since, sleeping peacefully in his own bed."

"But he hasn't. I don't think he's slept at all." And anyone who thought differently didn't know him. Neal had already convicted himself for Bobby's death, so had the rest of the town. But she couldn't. She never would. "He's devastated by what happened. He's lost his best friend."

"And Bobby Compton lost his life," DA Burnside added softly, his words carrying through the now-silent room.

A stifled sob drew everyone's attention to the back, to the very last row of benches. Mrs. Compton, her face partially buried against her husband's burly chest, was shaking, clinging to him.

Jenn closed her eyes against the sight of the same shock and grief that were eating her and Neal alive. She looked to her father for... For what?

Understanding? Forgiveness?

Not a chance.

Not for her.

Not now.

It was as if her parents had become strangers to her. They didn't understand her anymore, or at least they didn't want to.

"Please, stop this," an heart-stoppingly familiar voice begged.

Her body jerked.

Neal was on his feet beside his father, pulling away from Mr. Cain's grasp.

"Sit down!" Mr. Cain bit out.

"Stop it, Dad." Neal faced the judge. "Your Honor, for the sake of Bobby Compton's family, please, call this charade off."

"Neal!" Mr. Cain looked ready to deck his son to keep him quiet, when Jenn knew he loved Neal too much to ever hurt him.

She'd always marveled at the bond, the honesty, between them. At how much they even looked alike, despite the difference in their ages. They shared the same blond good looks, the same height and effortless athleticism and dreamy dark eyes. The same intensity when they were determined to have their way, as both were now.

"Your Honor," Mr. Cain pleaded. "My son's distraught over his friend's death. He doesn't understand--"

"I do understand." Neal's voice was the scariest calm Jenn had ever heard. "And I want to plead guilty."

"No!" Jenn and Mr. Cain cried in unison.

The room burst into a sea of babbling voices.

"That's enough." Judge Pritchard's gavel rapped. He leveled an accusing stare at the spectators. "I'll have no more outbursts, or this courtroom will be cleared."

When silence returned, it was harder to bear than the gossipy confusion it replaced. Because in the room's quiet, nothing remained but the end that Jenn knew she'd never survive.

Judge Pritchard returned his attention to the defendant's table.

"Have a seat, Mr. Cain."

"But, Your Honor--"

"Have a seat!"

"Son," the judge said when Neal was standing alone. "Do you understand the consequences of what you're saying? You're not being charged as a juvenile. You'll serve your sentence in an adult correctional facility."

"Yes, sir. My father's explained everything to me. I'm pleading guilty to involuntary manslaughter, and I'm going to prison. It's where I belong. We all know that. Don't put Bobby's parents through the motions of a trial that won't change anything."

"Neal." Mr. Cain's voice sounded too old, too lost, to belong to the fearless defense attorney prosecutors all over the state dreaded facing in a courtroom. "Please, we can find another way."

Please.

Jenn wanted to run to Neal. To beg along with his dad. But she couldn't move. Worse, nothing she said would make the tiniest difference.

"I told you this morning, Dad." Neal shook off his father's touch one last time. "I have to do this."

His gaze finally connected with Jenn's, his dark eyes at first apologizing, then emptying of every promise and dream they'd shared.

"Bobby's gone because of me." He continued to stare, through each awful word, as if to be sure she understood most of all. "There is no other way. It's over."