Hi.  I've been pretty busy for a few months and haven't posted anything since August.  My wife and I just returned from a two week trip to Italy.  We visited, in order, Venice, Florence, Rome, and Sorrento.  All were beautiful, but Sorrento stood out to us for the shear beauty of the area right on the coast of the Mediterranean.  Capri was a short hop away on a ferry, which we took, and the ruins of Pompeii were to the north.  Both were, literally, breathtaking, but for different reasons.

But, enough of that, now for the important stuff.  I have started work on a sequel to "Trust Me Now"  which picks up where the first novel left off.  Cassandra and Mr. John are alive and well, holed up in a safe spot and eager to get their money back from Beth, plus a little revenge.   Here is a short sample:

PROLOGUE

Mark awoke, his body stuck in a fetal position. He tried stretching to his full six-foot length, but was stopped by a hard, extended surface on both ends.   He moved his feet behind and arms to the front.  The same type of hard surface abruptly stopped his limbs.  Violently, his body was suddenly launched vertically, and his head crashed into the top of the enclosure he realized he was trapped in.  

He was moving, or rather, the container he was in, was moving.   While continuing to be bounced around he was slowly becoming aware of what had happened to him earlier in the evening.

While emptying his trash into an outside bin someone had approached him from behind and covered his nose and mouth with a rag soaked in something; chloroform he guessed.  Blackness had enveloped him, until waking in the moving container he currently occupied. 

Another brutal bump sent him to the top of his container again, banging him down with a force that caught his right hand twisted beneath his hips.  Pain now wracked through his hand and extended into his forearm.  Whatever he was riding in was not rolling over a smooth surface.  Mark was continually bouncing around with an occasional huge jolt sending him flying into the roof.  Roof!  As his mind continued to clear, he began to understand that he was in the trunk of a car moving over rough roads. 

Questions tumbled from his mind, bewildering him with answers that made no sense.  Who did this?  Why?  Where is he or she taking me?  Is it one person, two, three?  He almost dreaded the answers.

                                                    CHAPTER 1

Beth retreated and circled as the six-foot-two, slimy looking stooge stalked her.  When he lunged and grabbed for her neck she deftly sidestepped, hammer fist punched him on the left side of his neck, and delivered a knee to his throat.   Fortunately for the slime-ball, however, he was wearing protective gear.  He was unhurt. 

The audience of a dozen women (young and old) burst into applause and then showered Beth with congratulations.  The would be mugger waited till the women parted from Beth, and then approached to shake her hand.  Beth eschewed the handshake and threw a heartfelt hug into his burly figure.  The instructor smiled widely as he embraced her. 

"I never thought I would get to this point.  You've taught me so much," Beth gushed.

"I've never had a student pick up the attitude and techniques as fast as you have," Damien, the Krav Maga instructor responded.  "I hope you're going to stick with it," he added with some concern to his voice.

"No need to worry about that.  You’re going to be seeing me for a while."

A relieved grin appeared on Damien's face as he hugged her again.  "Great!  Then I'll see you on Thursday.  There's a lot more to learn, and only part of it is physical.  Krav Maga demands a mental toughness and understanding that when you're attacked in the real world it has absolutely nothing to do with practicing kicks on a heavy bag."

"I know, Damien.  I promise I'll be a good pupil". 

Beth had found out about Krav Maga a month following the death of her years long tormentor, Adrian Pope.  Her near death experience and feelings of helplessness when physically confronted by him had convinced her to attend some sort of self-defense training.  She had vowed that she would never again let another human being gain dominion over her.

The training took place in the basement area of a downtown Rochester hotel.  She had read an article in the local newspaper describing it as an Israeli form of martial arts.  It had been advertised as the only style of martial arts that applied to real world situations.  Her first class instructor had begun by lining all the participants at the front of the room and having them take a bow.  Then they had gone right into jumping jacks alternated with push-ups and some basic blocks with a partner.  Abs and stretching work followed.  The tone of the warm-up had been tough with the instructor yelling and appearing to want to break her down.  She had felt intimidated, but didn't leave.