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Lynda Kaye Frazier
Research is an important tool for a writer. This is why mine makes my family nervous.
For a story to be believable, a writer has to have knowledge about what their book is about. Whether it is about a farmer struggling in the 1800’s or a novel about strangers meeting in an exotic resort, you have to be able to describe your setting so that the reader can see it. In order to picture the surroundings and believe the events that unfold in front of them it takes research.
I write romantic suspense and with my story lines I have to do extensive research on terrorists groups and FBI Agents. When I began to write I decided to not tell my children what my stories were about because of an event that gives us many laughs now, but not so many back then. Let me explain why I knew my research would make my son cringe.
My oldest son was in college on an ROTC scholarship at the time of the 9-11 attack. He was still in the Navy Reserves and I just assumed he would not be pulled into active duty so close to the end of his senior year. Like so many others, I was glued to the TV, watching the horrific event when my phone rang. I dropped my coffee cup and knew it wasn’t going to be a call I wanted to take. One of those moments that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. I answered the call and it was my oldest son, John. He said his Commander called him and told him he was pulled back to into active duty. I was very upset.
Now don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I’m not proud of all our children who protect us every day. I just wanted my son to finish his last year of college first. I decided to pull the parent card and tell him that he couldn’t go. He laughed and told me it would be okay. Well that didn’t reassure me so I told him I was going to call the President and he laughed again. I told him I knew George Bush when he was the Governor of Texas, I met him personally so we were on a first name bases.
He continued to enjoy my little rant and all I could think was to never laugh at an angry mother. I was searching the web, reading all the stories about that day and I came across an e-mail for the White House, not the President, just the White House. I thought, why not? It would make me feel better and no one would ever see it. I figured it was just a generic one that went to a black hole. Well, I told our President that my son was not allowed to come out and play war games with him. He had homework to do and stayed out too late so I grounded him for the next four months. I made a few more motherly jokes on how bad little Johnny was and how he would not be able to play until he learned to share with others and do what his mother told him to and that I would let him know when I thought he was ready to have his restrictions lifted.
I hit send and had a good laugh because it made me feel better. I have three children in the military and I’m very proud of each one of them. Their sacrifices help keep us safe each day.
A few days passed and I truly forgot what I did until I checked my e-mail and saw that I had a response from the White House, Military Division. I about died because in the e-mail I sent I never gave my name, my sons name or what branch of the military he served in. I hesitated and even thought about just deleting it, but my curiosity got the best of me and I opened it. In the return e-mail they had my name, address, phone number and my sons name, rank and commander’s name. I knew after the first few sentences I was in a lot of trouble.
The message was short and sweet. They informed me in the first paragraph about the important role my son played in their plans and that whatever orders he received it would be in his best interest to comply fully. Then, in a joking manner, they told me that my son did not need my permission to play war games with the U.S. military because they were his mother now and the President didn’t need my permission for anything.
I sat there just staring at the screen and then I laughed hysterically. After I composed myself I called my son. He never says "hello" when he picks up, he answers by asking "what did you do?" He said he just got a call to come to the base for a meeting. I felt so bad, I offered to fly down and go with him and he got really quiet then said, "Mom I’m twenty-three and don’t need my mother to go with me, I just need her to stop harassing the President.
To make a long story short, he was asked to keep his mother from sending anymore e-mails to the President especially during a time of war.
When my two boys went to Iraq they first told me it was going to be okay, then continued to instruct me to not e-mail, or call the President. I would just make matters worse for them and for me.
After I informed my children about what my book was about I asked my boys for some information. I told them I had researched terrorists groups and terrorist camp but needed some help. They both begged me not to do anymore research online. They told me that I was probably on a White House watch list and they were probably tracking what I did. Looking up bomb making and terrorist activities would get me more than an e-mail from the White House.
Research is an important tool for every writer and my children understand that, they just wished I wrote vampire stories or fairy tales.
A Note from the Book Boost: Hope all your children are safe at home these days and please thank them for their service. Best of luck with your book writing and research!
She has no memory of their love...
Kidnapped by terrorists and sent into a drug-induced coma, FBI intern Mercedes Kingsley awakes with no memory of her ordeal—or the intimate interlude that left her pregnant. Convinced her child was fathered by her ex-fiancé, she walks away from the only man she has ever loved, determined to make things work with her ex, a man the FBI suspects is implicated in her abduction.
He knows the truth, but no one will listen...
FBI undercover agent Jason Michaels remembers what Mercy can’t and those memories are breaking his heart. Forced to keep his distance from his lover and their unborn child, Jason risks his life to protect Mercy from a cell of international terrorists who have vowed to get the secrets locked in her memory, no matter the cost. Can Jason convince Mercy to trust him until she remembers their past, or will he lose her to a man who will trap her in a nightmare world of darkness from which there is no escape?
An explosion ricocheted behind Jason Michael’s eyes as the pressure mounted in his head. The rush of panic consumed him. He struggled to move, tried to swallow, but nothing. His throat burned as the flames engulfed his lungs. He needed to breathe but couldn’t. Shit. He strained to make out the muffled voice, but the pounding in his ears erased all hope. His head started to spin and he succumbed to the realization, this was it, the end. He won. The flames dampened and his heartbeat slowed as the drums subsided, then the voice became clear.
“Give it to him now you son of a bitch. What were you thinking? We still need him.”
In a split second, Jason sucked in a breath, causing stabbing pains to shoot through his chest. Every muscle fiber burned as the cold blast of air shot through his lungs releasing the oxygen his body craved. He arched his back, raising his chest up to pull in more air when his head snapped to the side and the crack from his neck echoed in his ears. The pain ripped through his jaw, racing across his cheekbone. Before he could gather his senses, intense burning set his face on fire. What the hell?
The slap against his cheek stung, and his eyes snapped open. He wrenched upright, hitting his head on the roof of the SUV. His gaze darted back and forth looking for something familiar until he locked onto the ice-cold stare of the devil himself, Shaun Flanagan.
Damn, that was close. Jason could not blow his cover, even if it meant he would die as David Logan and not Jason Michaels.
“You’re finally awake, my boy. We almost lost you,” Shaun cold, emotionless laugh caused Jason’s blood to boil. “You stopped breathing, I think. It’s hard to tell with this new stuff. I hope you’re not too injured. We’ve got work to do.”
Jason’s vision blurred, but his other senses were sharp. Shaun had known exactly what the drug would do and the burn in Jason’s throat was a harsh reminder. Shaun’s sarcastic tone spoke volumes to him. He was evil and did not play by anyone’s rules but his own. Jason had spent the last two months undercover, playing their games and doing their dirty work to buddy up tight to this family.
He’d earned his spot with Thomas Flanagan, but his son Shaun had issues trusting anyone, even his own father.
Jason’s anger burned inside of him, but he couldn’t afford to make mistakes, not now. He was too close. It’s time to step it up, but first the drugs had to stop. He rubbed his aching jaw with one hand, clenching his other into a fist to hide his visible shaking. He had to get control of this game before he lost everything.
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