Welcome to my tour stop for Slayed on the Slopes by Kate Dyer-Seeley! This is the second book in the Pacific Northwest Mystery series. Slayed on the Slopes released March 31st by Kensington Publishing. The tour runs April 6- 17 with reviews, interviews, guest posts and excerpts. Check out the tour page for more information.
Slayed on the Sloped
Author: Kate Dyer-Seely
Book Description:
After talking her way into a job writing for Portland’s Northwest Extreme magazine, Meg Reed may now really be in over her head. Actually, about 8,000 feet over her head. . .
She’s at Mount Hood’s remote Silcox Hut, covering the seriously hardcore Ridge Rangers—Oregon’s elite high-altitude rescue team–during their four-day winter training. Sure, Meg beefed up her outdoor skills over the summer . . . but she’s still hoping to cover the event with some hot chocolate by the cheery fireplace. Then, during a sudden blizzard, she swears she hears gunshots. No one stranded in the hut believes her . . . until self-absorbed Ridge Ranger Ben Rogers is found outside in a pool of frozen blood. Meg’s now got to find this killer quickly . . . before cabin fever does them all in!
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Praise For Scene Of The Climb
“A splendid overview of the greater Portland and Columbia River Gorge region, perfect for travel buffs. Her protagonist shows promise with her determined attitude and moxie.” –Library Journal
Includes Adventure Guides!
Excerpt
“Sit.” She motioned to the empty chair. A votive candle flickered, wax spilling down its sides and pooling in the glass below.
I plopped into the chair. Gam is best described as serenely directive. As an energy healer she exudes calm and an inner-knowingness that I can only hope to achieve some day. She’s no pushover, though. Quite the opposite. She holds the space around her, firmly occupying it with her commandingly calm presence.
She wrapped my hands in hers. I could feel heat radiate immediately, sending warm waves up my arms. “Okay, Margaret. Out with it.”
“Gam, I’m fine.”
She scrunched her aging face. “Honey, it’s me.” Her hands pressed firmly into mine. “I can feel it. You’re all spun up.”
Everything came spilling out. I told her about Ben’s death, the attack, Jill and finally my confusion over my relationship with Matt.
One of the things I appreciate the most about Gam is that she doesn’t jump in. She sat comfortably, watching the candle flicker, absorbing everything I said. I have a tendency to rush in, try to fill silence, act before I think, even though I strive to become more Gam-like.
She released her grasp, brushed her hands off and ran them over her body from her head to her feet. It’s how she clears someone else’s energy. “Which one of these challenges is yours?”
“What do you mean?”
Her brown eyes narrowed. “I mean, which one of them is yours?”
“All of them?”
She laughed and shook her head. “You think so?”
“No?” I winkled my nose.
“Margaret, I’ve said it a thousand times. We’re always at choice. In every minute we’re at choice. This moment—this very moment—holds the most power.” She animated this point with her hands. “What choice do you want to make at this moment?”
“You mean, Matt, don’t you? He’s the only challenge that’s mine.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“What if I’m not ready to move forward?”
She placed her hands together in front of her in a prayer position and closed her eyes. A serene smile crossed her face. I watched her face transform. After a couple of minutes she opened her eyes and nodded. “This is important for you to understand.” She held up a finger. “Doing nothing is also a choice.”
I took a moment to let her words sink in. “Right.” I sighed. “I guess after Pops’ death I feel like every decision I make is so much more important.”
“Mmm hmm.” She ran her fingers along a blue onyx crystal pendant around her neck.
“I guess, I also feel guilty.”
“Guilty, how?”
“If I move on, move forward, it’s like I’m leaving Pops behind. I’m starting to forget things about him, Gam.” I swallowed back tears.
“I understand.” She clasped her hands over mine and held them there.
“Have you heard of the poet Kahil Gibran?”
I shook my head.
“He says, ‘sorrow carves the heart to contain more joy.’ Your heart is open and waiting for more joy. That’s the gift of grief. It makes space for more love, light and joy. That doesn’t mean that sadness won’t linger, but when our heart breaks, they also break open if we let them.”
“So you think I should give Matt a chance?”
She considered this for a moment. The flickering candlelight reflected on the sequins on her turquoise dress. “I didn’t say that. I think you should ask for guidance. Spend some time being quiet—asking your higher-self what brings it joy. Then set your intention for that.”
A waitress passed by with a tray of desserts.
“Oh, I see chocolate cake. Shall we indulge?” Gam took two plates of chocolate Bundt cakes from the tray.
Excerpt
“Sit.” She motioned to the empty chair. A votive candle flickered, wax spilling down its sides and pooling in the glass below.
I plopped into the chair. Gam is best described as serenely directive. As an energy healer she exudes calm and an inner-knowingness that I can only hope to achieve some day. She’s no pushover, though. Quite the opposite. She holds the space around her, firmly occupying it with her commandingly calm presence.
She wrapped my hands in hers. I could feel heat radiate immediately, sending warm waves up my arms. “Okay, Margaret. Out with it.”
“Gam, I’m fine.”
She scrunched her aging face. “Honey, it’s me.” Her hands pressed firmly into mine. “I can feel it. You’re all spun up.”
Everything came spilling out. I told her about Ben’s death, the attack, Jill and finally my confusion over my relationship with Matt.
One of the things I appreciate the most about Gam is that she doesn’t jump in. She sat comfortably, watching the candle flicker, absorbing everything I said. I have a tendency to rush in, try to fill silence, act before I think, even though I strive to become more Gam-like.
She released her grasp, brushed her hands off and ran them over her body from her head to her feet. It’s how she clears someone else’s energy. “Which one of these challenges is yours?”
“What do you mean?”
Her brown eyes narrowed. “I mean, which one of them is yours?”
“All of them?”
She laughed and shook her head. “You think so?”
“No?” I winkled my nose.
“Margaret, I’ve said it a thousand times. We’re always at choice. In every minute we’re at choice. This moment—this very moment—holds the most power.” She animated this point with her hands. “What choice do you want to make at this moment?”
“You mean, Matt, don’t you? He’s the only challenge that’s mine.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“What if I’m not ready to move forward?”
She placed her hands together in front of her in a prayer position and closed her eyes. A serene smile crossed her face. I watched her face transform. After a couple of minutes she opened her eyes and nodded. “This is important for you to understand.” She held up a finger. “Doing nothing is also a choice.”
I took a moment to let her words sink in. “Right.” I sighed. “I guess after Pops’ death I feel like every decision I make is so much more important.”
“Mmm hmm.” She ran her fingers along a blue onyx crystal pendant around her neck.
“I guess, I also feel guilty.”
“Guilty, how?”
“If I move on, move forward, it’s like I’m leaving Pops behind. I’m starting to forget things about him, Gam.” I swallowed back tears.
“I understand.” She clasped her hands over mine and held them there.
“Have you heard of the poet Kahil Gibran?”
I shook my head.
“He says, ‘sorrow carves the heart to contain more joy.’ Your heart is open and waiting for more joy. That’s the gift of grief. It makes space for more love, light and joy. That doesn’t mean that sadness won’t linger, but when our heart breaks, they also break open if we let them.”
“So you think I should give Matt a chance?”
She considered this for a moment. The flickering candlelight reflected on the sequins on her turquoise dress. “I didn’t say that. I think you should ask for guidance. Spend some time being quiet—asking your higher-self what brings it joy. Then set your intention for that.”
A waitress passed by with a tray of desserts.
“Oh, I see chocolate cake. Shall we indulge?” Gam took two plates of chocolate Bundt cakes from the tray.
Don't miss out on the first book, Scene of the Climb, available now!
About the Author
Kate Dyer-Seeley writes the Pacific Northwest Mystery Series for Kensington Publishing. The first book in the series, Scene of the Climb, features the rugged landscapes of the Columbia River Gorge and a young journalist who bills herself as an intrepid adventurer in order to land a gig writing for Northwest Extreme.
Her work has appeared in a variety of regional and international publications including: The Columbian, The Vancouver Voice, Seattle Backpacker, Portland Family Magazine, and Climbing Magazine.
Kate lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and son, where you can find her hitting the trail, at an artisan coffee shop, or at her favorite pub. Better yet—at all three.
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***GIVEAWAY***
Winter warmer package- signed copy of Slayed on the Slopes, Signed copy of Scene of the Climb, Ghirardelli Double Chocolate Hot Chocolate Mix, Oregon Chai Tea, 1 Pound of Coffee and Collectable Mt. Hood art coaster (US).
Ends April 27, 2015.
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Blog Tour Organised by CBB Book Promotions:
Thank you so much for hosting a tour stop!
ReplyDeleteThis book sounds like an adventure and I liked the excerpt! Thanks for the awesome giveaway!
ReplyDelete