Join Christy’s email list to get this story free! A notorious gang puts a bounty on Detective Cady Matthews’s head after she takes down their leader, leaving her no choice but to hide until she can testify at trial. But her temporary home across the country on a remote North Carolina island isn’t as peaceful as she initially thinks. Living under the new identity of Cassidy Livingston, she struggles to keep her investigative skills tucked away, especially after a body washes ashore. When local police bungle the murder investigation, she can’t resist stepping in. But Cassidy is supposed to be keeping a low profile. One wrong move could lead to both her discovery and her demise. Can she bring justice to the island . . . or will the hidden currents surrounding her pull her under for good? Hidden Currents is the first book in the six-book Lantern Beach Mystery series. Each book contains a standalone mystery, but there are overarching mysteries within the entire series. Get it now for
Captain's Log, Stardate 10.09.2007
Today I went to lunch with my friend Dineen, and afterwards, we headed into Borders just to browse.
Borders has this section full of cute little notebooks. Small ones, big ones, colored paper ones, you name it. They also have pens and wallets and zippered bags and iPod cases.
I must have spent at least thirty minutes just going ga-ga over the stupid little notebooks!
What is it with notebooks and me? I can count the number of them that I’ve actually filled on the fingers of one hand. I have them all over the house, most with only a page or two written on, and an entire BOX of new ones in my closet.
And I keep coveting more!
This thing with notebooks is completely irrational. I cannot understand it, and I cannot stop it.
I also cannot seem to fill them with any speed. And considering how much I like to talk, that’s pathetic. I should at least be able to spout nothings enough to fill a few.
But when I open it to write inside, a part of my brain suddenly insists that I must only write meaningful things on the sacred pages. With a good pen, no cheap ballpoints. And then, of course, I have very little to say.
Isn’t that completely stupid?
What about you? Any irrational loves?
Today I went to lunch with my friend Dineen, and afterwards, we headed into Borders just to browse.
Borders has this section full of cute little notebooks. Small ones, big ones, colored paper ones, you name it. They also have pens and wallets and zippered bags and iPod cases.
I must have spent at least thirty minutes just going ga-ga over the stupid little notebooks!
What is it with notebooks and me? I can count the number of them that I’ve actually filled on the fingers of one hand. I have them all over the house, most with only a page or two written on, and an entire BOX of new ones in my closet.
And I keep coveting more!
This thing with notebooks is completely irrational. I cannot understand it, and I cannot stop it.
I also cannot seem to fill them with any speed. And considering how much I like to talk, that’s pathetic. I should at least be able to spout nothings enough to fill a few.
But when I open it to write inside, a part of my brain suddenly insists that I must only write meaningful things on the sacred pages. With a good pen, no cheap ballpoints. And then, of course, I have very little to say.
Isn’t that completely stupid?
What about you? Any irrational loves?
Comments
But I still can't help browsing the journals section of B&N every time I go in.
Although I do fill mine (the $.10 back-to-school sale ones)