From that moment on, BECAUSE I'M WATCHING is a wild ride of psychological terror. But because these two characters are so damaged — Maddie has been isolated from society and Jacob cares nothing for social niceties — they will say anything to anybody. Between the two of them, they create laugh out loud moments that provide relief from their ongoing fear and anguish, and pave the way for their slow healing and the final, triumphant denouement.
Of course, Kateri Kwinault and all your favorite characters from VIRTUE FALLS and OBSESSION FALLS return.
Here's the BECAUSE I'M WATCHING backcopy:
A seasoned military veteran, Jacob Denisov lives alone in his small, darkened home, sleepless, starving, blaming himself for the horrors of the past and waiting for the moment when he gathers enough courage to kill himself. When neighbor Madeline Hewitson drives her car through the front wall of his house, she breaks his house—and Jacob’s life—wide open. She isn’t called “Mad Maddie” for nothing. The survivor of a college dorm massacre, a woman accused of her lover’s murder, she is haunted by ghosts and tormented by a killer only she can see. Dealing with construction and forced to see the world outside his home, Jacob watches Maddie, recognizes a kindred spirit and wonders—is this truly madness, or has someone caught her in a twisted labyrinth of revenge and compassion, guilt and redemption, murder and madness?
The brief excerpt:
Jacob was using Maddie's razor to shave when, without fanfare, the door opened. He swung around, ready to kill whoever stood there.
It was Maddie. She held an arm full of clothes.
He was naked.
If she cared, she didn't show it. She put the clothes on the hamper. "After the cops left, I went to your house and found you something to wear. You have good clothes in the closet, and you were wearing … these." With two fingers, she picked up his pants, his underwear, his t-shirt. "I'll take these to the garbage. You're a pig."
"You sound like my mother."
"That's because we both have vaginas. People with vaginas are smarter than people with penises. If we weren't, we'd live like pigs, too."
His penis apparently heard its name mentioned and took this inopportune moment to remember she had a nice ass.
He turned back to the sink.
"Wow, you're skinny."
He glanced at her.
She was looking at his face. "Shaving makes you look even more like a concentration camp survivor. You should eat something."
For whatever reason, his penis found that exciting, too.
So much for his comforting theory that he was impotent.
He leaned against the cold porcelain sink. That knocked back his erection.
Damn Madeline Hewitson. Like he didn't have enough trouble already. Horniness: God's gift for caring whether Maddie walked off a cliff.
Buy BECAUSE I’M WATCHING now in hardcover, in audio or for your Kindle!
Remember when I said BECAUSE I'M WATCHING was the best book I've ever written?
— Amazon picked BECAUSE I'M WATCHING as its top Romance for September: "I’ve enjoyed Dodd’s Virtue Falls romantic suspense series, but this newest entry is absolutely gripping…a mesmerizing read." And reader reviews have stayed at 5 stars!
— There are over 100 Goodreads reviews and at this writing, the rating is 4.41, the best of my career (BECAUSE I'M WATCHING is book #54).
— Booklist, the official magazine of the American Library Association, gave it a starred review: "Dodd continues her flawless pivoting from romance to suspense… Scary, sexy, and smartly written." As if that weren’t enough, BECAUSE I’M WATCHING is at the top of Booklist’s Top Ten Romances for 2016.
— Library Journal gave it a starred review: "Two emotionally damaged characters find hope, self-forgiveness, and love in this exquisitely crafted, modern version of Gaslight … A chilling and gripping tale, beautifully done."
— Kirkus, the respected literary magazine, gave it a starred review: "Smart, dramatic mystery that will keep readers flipping pages until the very end, with unexpected twists, psychological tension, and emotional depth.… Another Virtue Falls winner."
I could tell you more from Suspense Magazine, review blogs and fans — I can talk about this for hours — but your eyes are probably glazing over. So now let's move on to an excerpt of the upcoming full-length suspense, THE WOMAN WHO COULDN'T SCREAM.
Excerpt for THE WOMAN WHO COULDN'T SCREAM
THE WOMAN WHO COULDN'T SCREAM tells two intertwined stories: That of Kateri Kwinault, the native American who is the heart of the Virtue Falls series and who faces challenges as the new sheriff of Virtue Falls, and Merida Falcon, recently moved to Virtue Falls, unbelievably beautiful (for good reason), unable to speak, and intent on getting vengeance on the people who destroyed her life and made her a virtual slave for the last nine years. Here's a glimpse into the beginning of the book:
Officer Rupert Moen steered the speeding patrol car around sharp corners, up steep rises and through washouts caused by spring rains. Sweat stained his shirt; ruddy blotches lit his cheeks and the middle of his forehead. He was young, with the sheriff's department for only a couple of years, shy and never the brightest bulb in the chandelier. But damn, put that kid behind the wheel and he could drive.
Sheriff Kateri Kwinault's only jobs were to lean into the curves and keep him calm. In the soothing voice she had perfected during her time as regional Coast Guard commander, she said, "Four wheels on the ground. Don't skid on the gravel. Your only job is keep that car in sight. We've got a helicopter on its way and every law enforcement officer on the Peninsula moving into position."
Like a Celtic warrior, Moen was all wild red hair and savage grins. "This road is a real bitch, isn't it?"
"It's … interesting." Kateri purposefully kept her gaze away from the almost vertical plunge on her side of the car, away from the equally vertical rise on the other side.
"Goddamn interesting." With flashing lights and a blast of the electronic air horn, Moen harried the black Dodge SRT Hellcat that raced ahead of them. "This time we'd better catch those bastards."
"Yes." The Terrances, father and son, were bastards and worse: drug dealers, meth cookers, jail escapees, drive-by shooters … and murderers.
Kateri corrected herself. Attempted murderers. No one was dead … yet.
She checked the dash cam; she wanted video of every last moment of this capture. "I hope the road blocks stopped all unofficial vehicles. We don't want to meet someone in a head-on."
"Not much traffic up here this spring. Too much runoff. Good thing, considering."
Considering the steep and narrow gravel road, considering the speed, considering no civilian wanted to encounter John Senior and John Junior.
This was wild country. All the things that made the Olympic Peninsula a hiker's and boater's paradise — steep mountains, dense forests, wild beaches and hidden inlets — made it ideal for two fugitives intent on evading arrest. Except, oh gee, if the Terrances had been hidden in a cave or deep in the woods, they would have had no Wi-Fi, no radio reception, no way to contact the outside world.
The public and law enforcement had been put on alert and for three intensive days, the hunt had pulled in county, city and state police to patrol the roads as well as the Coast Guard to cruise the Pacific coast. The hunt had been publicized by local news media with the warning, "If seen do not attempt to apprehend, contact your local law enforcement agency." Finally, alert citizen Pauline Nitz had spotted the black Dodge SRT Hellcat speeding along one of the isolated roads and the chase was on.
Now, spitting gravel and raising dust, Kateri and Moen led a line of Virtue Falls police department cars in hot pursuit.
Moen's white knuckles gripped the wheel. "Hold on." He steered them over a series of washboards that rattled everything in the car and made Kateri moan and press her hand to her side. He glanced at her. "Sorry, Sheriff."
"Not your fault," she said. Four days ago, while Kateri sat in the window of the Oceanview C
afé, celebrating her surprise election to the office of sheriff, the Terrances had sprayed bullets through the windows. One of their bullets had skipped off her ribs like a flat stone off the rippled surface of a river, leaving her broken and bloody and sore as hell, but not seriously wounded.
"The Terrances are slowing down." Moen moved closer to the Hellcat's bumper.
"Maybe they're out of gas." That would be too wonderful — and too lucky since as far as Kateri could tell, the Terrances had stashed fuel and food all up and down the coast. "I don't believe it. Back off."
Moen sighed noisily, but did as he was told.
She leaned forward, trying to figure out what they were up to. "Be care—"
John Terrance, Junior or Senior, goosed the black Dodge SRT and threw it into a skid that sent the car sideways, passenger side toward the pursuers.
"Don't T-bone him!" Kateri shouted.
Moen downshifted, eased off the gas and in the excessively patient tone of the very young for the very old (Kateri was thirty-four), he said, "I know what I'm doing, Sheriff."
The SRT's passenger door flew open. Something tumbled out.
Someone tumbled out.
Moen screamed, "Shit son of a bitch!"
Kateri yelled, "Don't hit him. Don't run over him!"
Moen leaned on his brakes, locked up all four wheels, making the patrol car a high-speed toboggan propelled by inertia and momentum.
No way to avoid the collision.
The patrol car's left front tire caught the body. The car went airborne.
"The tree!" Moen shouted.
They rammed it, a giant Douglas fir, square on.
The airbags exploded.
Kateri was smashed against the back of her seat. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't see. She was drowning.
She fought the hot white plastic out of her face. The airbag was already deflating … she tore off her sunglasses. White dust covered them, covered the interior of the car. The siren blared. She needed to catch her breath—
Moen looked in the rearview mirror and yelled, "They can't stop. They're going to nail us!"
"Who?"
"Cops!"
Another explosion of sound and motion as they were rammed in the right rear fender. Metal scraped. Fir needles rained down. The impact spun the patrol car sideways, wrenched the stitches over Kateri's ribs. The wound opened, one torn stitch at a time. Icy-hot pain slithered up her nerves. Warm blood trickled down her side.
Moen opened his door.
Through the ringing in her ears, Kateri heard the roar of an engine. Was another vehicle going to hit them? Or worse — had John Senior escaped?
Moen unbuckled his seatbelt. "You okay, sheriff?"
"Yes." She pressed the pad of her bandage. "Go."
He leaped out and ran toward the unmoving body in the middle of the road.
Had they inadvertently killed a hostage?
Someone yanked open her door. "Sorry, sheriff, when you fishtailed, we couldn't stop." A moment, then a face thrust into hers. "You okay, sheriff?"
Kateri blinked at the star-pattern of pain before her eyes.
The face belonged to Deputy Sheriff Gunder Bergen. Good guy. Good law officer. Second in command. He knew stuff.
"Who did we hit?" she asked. "Did we kill him?"
"Moen's coming."
Moen stuck his head in the driver's door. He leaned a hand on the steering wheel and one on the seat and spoke to her. "The body was John Junior. He was already dead. Like … there was no rigor mortis so a few days ago, right?"
Bergen inched in farther, leaned a hand on the dashboard. "We're getting the coroner out here, but yeah. What killed him?"
Moen switched his attention to Bergen. "Gunshot wound."
"Close range? His father shot him?" Bergen asked.
The two men were talking over the top of her. Which was as annoying as hell. "He shot his son so he could use the body as a diversion?" Kateri clicked her seatbelt and let go.
The buckle smacked Bergen on the thigh.
He jumped back, bumped his head on the roof, looked surprised as the dog who ate the bumblebee.
"No. I mean, maybe, but the shot was long range, entered the right side at about the liver. He bled out." Moen looked hard at Kateri. "Sheriff, you don't look much better than the corpse."
Bergen nodded. "Ambulance just pulled up. We'll send her to the hospital."
Kateri said the obvious. "Don't be silly. I'm fine."
"You sound just like my wife right before she collapsed with a ruptured appendix," Bergen said.
"I'm fine," she repeated. The air coming in the door was hot. Wasn't it? "Did we get John Senior?"
Moen clearly didn't want to give this report. "The diversion worked. He gunned it. Road was too narrow. No one could get past us. He's gone."
THE WOMAN WHO COULDN'T SCREAM will be out in 2017.
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Want to know more about the creation of this series?
Here's an article on how I built Virtue Falls.
Who is Christina Dodd?
Readers become writers, and Christina has always been a reader. Ultimately she discovered she liked to read romance best because the relationship between a man and a woman is always humorous. A woman wants world peace, a clean house, and a deep and meaningful relationship based on mutual understanding and love. A man wants a Craftsman router, undisputed control of the TV remote, and a red Corvette which will make his bald spot disappear.
So when Christina’s first daughter was born, she told her husband she was going to write a book. It was a good time to start a new career, because how much trouble could one little infant be?
Quite a lot, it seemed. It took ten years, two children and three completed manuscripts before she was published. Now her over fifty New York Times and USA Today bestselling novels — paranormals, historicals, and suspense — have been translated into twenty-five languages, recorded on Books on Tape for the Blind, and been called the year’s best by Booklist. Dodd herself has been a featured author at the Texas Book Festival and a clue in the Los Angeles Times crossword puzzle (11/18/05, # 13 Down: Romance Novelist named Christina.) Publishers Weekly praises her style that “showcases Dodd’s easy, addictive charm and steamy storytelling.”
Christina is married to a man with all his hair and no Corvette, but many Craftsman tools.
Explore Christina’s worlds, get writing tips, view her Printable Booklist, and join her FREE mailing list for book news, book sales and humor!
Christina Dodd, A Dark and Stormy Night: Stories of Virtue Falls
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