Please welcome Marian Lanouette to my blog today!
Cindy, I’d like to thank you for hosting Jake today. Since his release he’s become quite the character. All these women are chasing him down. A lot of them are asking if I molded him after anyone in particular. The answer is no. Jake’s character came straight out of my mind. Does he have traits I’ve encountered before in a man? Most definitely. His respect for women, his good looks, even his mannerisms remind me of someone very special. Who? I’ll never tell.
I’m sure the writers in your audience can attest to the fact that each character is a combination of various people they’ve encountered throughout their lives, which makes the character unique. What makes books so special are the characters and how they come alive on the paper, appearing extraordinarily ordinary. What I mean by this is, each one goes through a growing process? We either love them or hate them. We root for them or we wish them harm. I’m glad to see so many people loving Jake and his partner. It gives me great pleasure when a reader connects with one of my characters. You see, I’m in love with Jake too. He was so much fun to create. And I loved putting him in harms way, only to see how he’d worked his way out of each situation.
I’ve attached the book trailer here for a small preview into Jake’s life. http://youtu.be/DnmqRl-J0co
Excerpt of If I Fail, A Jake Carrington Mystery:
On days like this, Jake questioned if there was a God. He held the broken, lifeless body of the infant girl in his arms, tears running down his face. He didn’t try to hide them. Jake’s emotions reflected in the eyes of everyone. His partner Louie turned away and kicked the chair. Jake knew this horror would live with each of them for the rest of their lives.
Keith Amara, the morgue assistant, tapped Jake on the shoulder.
“I’ll take her.”
“She didn’t have a chance.” Jake handed her to Keith.
“No, she didn’t.”
He lay the child on the stretcher with such care that Jake’s respect for Keith increased immensely. Jake reached down and pulled the sheet up over the baby to conceal her from the morbid crowd that waited in the street below. He never understood the fascination of the onlookers at each crime scene. He believed they hoped to view the body so they could talk about the gruesome details, get their fifteen minutes of fame. Some would offer up a silent prayer of thanks to God for the safety of their children. Tragedy, even the tragedy of a stranger, affected people—it reaffirmed their zest for life, even here in the slums.
Jake composed himself. Turning to face the suspect, he fisted his hands at his side to contain his fury. The line of the law could be blurred here, Jake understood. Each officer wanted a piece of the creep. Knowing he had to keep a tight rein over the situation, Jake held his voice level when he spoke to Washington. He saw no humanity in the suspect; his act alone proved Washington had none. Looking into Washington’s eyes he observed they were dead, like the child he’d killed. He wore a dirty, wrinkled cotton T-shirt with stained jeans. The front of the jeans showed a large, wet patch where Washington pissed himself. The only thing this creep cared about was his next fix.
Jake walked to the body, reached down and uncovered it, and forced himself to look at the baby again. Her head, crushed in on the left side, reminded Jake of a broken hardboiled egg. He could estimate the amount of force that was required to cause such a wound, yet the baby didn’t die immediately. She had lain there suffering until one of the older children snuck out of the apartment and got a neighbor to call the police.
Now he stood in the doorway of the living room watching the police process the room. A child, who knew how to stay out of an adult’s way. Jake guessed his age at nine, though his eyes were those of an old man. They reflected life on the street. No child’s eyes should hold such darkness. He understood the pain on the boy’s face, because every day of his life he dealt with the violent death of his own sister at the age of fifteen. It haunted him, invading his thoughts and dreams at unexpected times.
Could he have done something to prevent it?
Marian born and raised in Brooklyn, New York is the seventh child of ten. At the age of sixteen her family moved from New York to New England. As a typical teenager, she felt her life was ruined and took to journalizing her feeling and this new life. The journal helped her realize how easily she had adapted to the change. Although, she did miss her cherished friends terribly; she’s thankful, they are still friends today. The four of them refer to each other as the cradle to the grave friends.
Unbeknown to her parents, at the age of five she started reading the New York Daily News story about the murdered nurses in Chicago and the investigation. Marian followed the story every day as authorities rushed to solve the brutal crime. It had caught her attention and her imagination. To this day she stills checks her closet before going to sleep. Marian thinks it was on that day the mystery lover was created.
At the age of eight she wrote every day, whether it be a poem, a short story or in her journal. An eighth grade assignment got her published. Though she failed the assignment, the nun was impressed with her poem. It was supposed to be a four line poem, but she couldn’t still her pen. The Beach her first official published work is still her favorite though much longer than four lines. It was the nun who submitted the poem for her to the local paper. Thus, the writer was born.
Marian’s first book If I Fail, A Jake Carrington Mystery was released on September 7, 2012; and will be followed up in January 2013 with the second book in the series, Burn in Hell, A Jake Carrington Mystery. Each book’s a mystery with romantic elements, because to quote Marian, “Life is both mysterious and romantic.”
Marian resides in New England with her husband.
Thanks so much for being on the blog today, Marian. Very good excerpt. This sounds like my kind of book.
Readers can connect with Marian at her website at http://www.marianl.com or by email at marian.author (at) gmail (dot) com or Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/marian.lanouette?ref=tn_tnmn
Or Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorMarian
Author page at Amazon: www.amazon.com/author/marianlanouette