BLINDSIGHT ( AKA The Never-ending Story ) by Sarah Raplee

Hi, I’m Sarah Raplee and I’m a closet perfectionist.

That’s the main reason it took me seven years to finish my first book. I am a slow writer. And things like births, deaths, illnesses, surgeries, business slowdowns—the stuff of lives being lived—played a part. As did co-managing this blog, and writing half-a dozen short stories, three of which have been included in anthologies.

The publication of BLINDSIGHT, my debut paranormal romantic suspense novel, is a testament to stubborn perseverance, faith and the kindness (and patience) of my family and my “tribe” of fellow writers.

Sometimes I felt like this book would never end. I wrote. I re-wrote. I edited. I ‘fixed’ things. I delved deeper into characters and theme. I paid an editor to find more things for me to improve upon. Her advice was sound and made the book stronger (and taught me a lot). Then…I polished. And polished. And, as my husband likes to point out, I changed happy to glad and back again many, many times.

My husband also told me it was time to “shoot the engineer and build the device,” which translates into “shoot the writer and publish the book.” But something held me back. After much prayer and meditation and consultation with friends, I finally internalized the truth that no book is perfect—and that’s okay. It was the part about it being okay that I hadn’t really taken to heart.

No book is perfect because no writer is perfect, and that’s also okay. As poet Joyce Kilmer so eloquently put it, “Poems are made by fools like me, but only God can make a tree.”

SARAH RAPLEE

After this epiphany, I finished the book. BLINDSIGHT is not perfect, but my Beta readers loved it. And that is more than enough to make me happy.

BLINDSIGHT, Book 1 in the FBI Psychic Agents Series, will be published by Windtree Press and available at all major E-Bookstores on Valentine’s Day.

BLINDSIGHT BLURB:

A tenacious FBI Psychic Agent who can find anything…
A lonely blind woman with a dangerous kiss…
A brutal psychic criminal obsessed with killing one and controlling the other…

FBI Level-10 Dowser Hector Guerrero, undercover at a drug lord’s remote wilderness wedding, learns the man that murdered his family plans to kidnap the psychically Talented blind wedding singer. Unable to allow the Cartel to enslave another victim, he tries to protect her and ends up in a torture chamber.

Luckily, Melisenda Smith is as resourceful as she is beautiful—and she needs Hector’s help to escape with her elderly guide dog. Fighting a perilous attraction, Meli and Hector must rely on one another to survive a relentless wilderness pursuit. When they stumble onto the Cartel’s hidden prison camp Hector’s been seeking, will ghosts from his past destroy their chance for a future together?

EXCERPT:

Melisenda set her drink down and tipped her head to one side as if she could see straight through him from behind her dark lenses. “Are you a friend of the bride or the groom?”

Hector blinked. “Uh, I’m here for the groom. I’m one of his bodyguards, currently off-duty.”

He scanned the room for Killingsworth and spotted him moving toward the bar. Biding his time. Sweat beaded his upper lip. How long before Killingsworth ran out of patience?

“So you’re here out of loyalty, Hector?”

The question caught him off guard. A bitter laugh escaped him. “I’m here because I want to keep my job.” He shifted in his chair, angling his body toward her. “What about you?”

Color blossomed in her cheeks. She picked up her champagne and held the fluted glass between them. “I need to keep food on the table.”

He narrowed his eyes. Her body language told him there was more to it, but he didn’t want to spook her. He changed the subject to a humorous description of a mismatched couple dancing.

When the lively music ended, the trumpet player teased the first liquid notes of the old Beatles’ ballad, Yesterday, from his instrument. The rest of the musicians joined in the second refrain. More richly-dressed couples rose from their tables and headed for the dance floor.

Melisenda’s smile turned wistful. Was her resolve wavering? “I bet you dance like you sing—beautifully,” he said.

She moistened her lower lip with the tip of her tongue. “Dancing’s against the rules.”

He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Whose rules?”

She tucked a stray curl behind her ear. The rhinestones rimming her glasses flickered. “My rules, from the Wedding Singer Rule Book.”

Hector smiled at her little white lie. “There’s no such thing.”

“There is a rule book. I wrote it myself.” She was even pretty when she frowned.

He shook the thought out of his head. He had to get her onto the dance floor so they could slip outside where he’d deliver his warning. He couldn’t let Killingsworth kidnap another woman on his watch. Doc would have to understand.

As he slid his chair back, the rubber-tipped legs stuttered across the polished floor. Melisenda flinched.

¡Mierda! The last thing he needed was to frighten her. “Please, I haven’t danced with anyone in a long time.”

She raised her chin and her rhinestones sparked. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. They were running out of time. Intending to overwhelm her resistance with action, he grabbed her lace-gloved hand. An electric buzz bolted through his hand and up his arm. He remained in his chair. Her fingers tightened. The overwhelming sense that she yearned to trust him dragged out a piece of the truth he’d never intended to share.

“I haven’t danced since my fiancée died. Maybe I can, with you.” Heat rose in the agent’s face. What the hell had come over him? Why would he reveal something related to his real past, not Hector’s imaginary one?

Melisenda’s face paled. She wrenched her hand away.

“You couldn’t have known,” he said in what he hoped was a soothing tone. He glanced around. No one seemed to have overheard him. But what had just happened? He’d once met a touch telepath who could transmit thoughts and sensory details through skin-to-skin contact. This was different, as if he’d been overwhelmed by her emotional energy.

“I know what it’s like to lose someone you love,” she said softly. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

His throat tightened. It had been years since he’d last heard those words. He reminded himself he knew next to nothing about her. He’d be a fool to let her get under his skin just because she was Talented. His goal was to get her out of Mendoza’s compound to safety without blowing his cover. Doc employed expert squints to sort out the complexities of Talent.

Taking care not to let his fingertips brush her skin, he lifted a long curl off her shoulder and pretended he’d felt nothing. “Your hair is like burnished copper. So beautiful.”

The silky strands slid between his fingers. The way she trembled tugged at a place in his core he’d thought long dead. ¡No manches¡ This was not the time for his libido to resurrect itself. He had to focus on getting her out of here. Afterward, she’d be Doc’s problem.

Thank you for reading this excerpt from BLINDSIGHT. If you enjoyed it, remember the book will be available on Valentine's Day! ~Sarah Raplee

www.sarahraplee.com

Copyright 2017 Sarah Raplee All Rights Reserved