I spent perhaps nine months on Butterfly from start to final editing. At the time this was a long time for me to finish a book. I had written three manuscripts prior to Butterfly and each took from a month to about three to complete. When I submitted Butterfly, I wanted it to be good right out of the box, so I spent extra time tweaking scenes and polishing details. Perhaps it was mostly luck, being in the right place, finding an editor who was in the mood for this particular book…hard to tell, but Butterfly sold rather quickly. Now I have two other books and a potential third with the same publisher. Angel’s Share, the second novel in the Fadό Trilogy, will be available March 2010 and Hot Flash a stand-alone story that I had written back in 2006 is in final edits. I’m currently working on the third book in the Fadό Trilogy and hope to finish it by the end of this year.
He lost sight of the fiddler in the mobs of tourists enjoying the April sunshine.
No sooner had he decided to give up on his quest than he heard hands clapping in rhythm with the beat of the now familiar Irish drum.
Then he saw her.
She lifted her instrument and, with the surety of a bird’s wing slipping through the air, bow was laid to strings and life was breathed into melody.
He moved to the edge of the gathering where he could have an unobstructed view of the musicians. She looked up, and he thought she recognized him for an instant. Then her eyes turned and followed another.
She smiled and nodded.
Cade had never thought of himself as the jealous type, but he did feel cheated out of that smile. As soon as the last vibration of strings quieted, a man Cade recognized from O’Fallon’s came up behind the fiddler and, with disturbing familiarity, spoke in her ear. She responded with a hug and an adoring look in her eyes.
Cade had been raised to be competitive, in sports as well as in business, and the appearance of a rival on the field made him want to draw blood. He wanted the fiddler in his studio, and if she ended up in his bed, that might be as nice.
He stood and listened until the sun set and the air held a chill that thinned the throng. The musicians were packing it in.
He hadn’t realized he was staring, until she walked up to him and stood so close he could smell the scent of her warm skin in the cool evening air. Her approach to introduction took Cade completely by surprise.
“Are you lookin’ at me or waitin’ for a bus?” she said, one hand on her hip and a sassy smile on her lips.
Flannery swung through the door into the dining room with a flourish but nearly tripped over a bar stool when she saw the now familiar profile, broad shoulders, and curly dark hair of the man who had come to see her sister.
“Sufferin’ ducks, and if it isn’t himself come to brighten the day at O’Fallon’s.” Cade was as compelling as she remembered. Today he was dressed in jeans, a black knit shirt, leather bomber jacket, and a slow smile that would stop a saint in her tracks.
“What can I get you?” She thought a couple of shots of good Irish whiskey would sort him out.
“I’d try the fish an’ chips if you would join me?”
She gave him one of her best smiles, turned toward the kitchen, and yelled, “Hey, Jamie, I’m taking my break. Give us a one an’ one, a serving of the bangers and mushy peas, a couple o’ Harps, and an Inishowen, would you there?”
“Anything for the love of my life,” Jamie called from behind the door.
“Stow it, Jamie Mac!” Flannery shot back, then turned to Cade. “He’s always good fer craic, our Jamie.”
“Craic? Inishowen? One and one? Would you like to translate?”
“Whatta ya mean ‘translate’? You speak English don’tcha?” she teased. “Okay…I’m just giving you a time. ‘Craic’ is fun, ‘Inishowen’ is a whiskey from County Donegal, and a ‘one and one’ is what we, the feckin’ Irish, call fish ‘n chips.”
Flannery’s pulse quickened at the way his dark eyes, shaded by long lashes, swept lazily over her, undressing her, right here in a public place. Yes, as her girlfriends back home liked to say, “He was a ride.”