Welcome Gail Roughton to Dishin' It Out

Circumstantial Evidence?

You know, it’s occurred to me that we writers put ourselves in danger sometimes. What with modern technology and the plethora of information available online at our fingertips, we can visit anywhere – usually via revolving screen shots that tour everything from Vegas to the Vatican.  We can find information about anything.  From archaic alchemy formulas purporting to change metal into gold to precise instructions for saying the Rosary. 

And therein lies the problem.  Over the past years, how many trials have featured the defendant’s computer as one of the star witnesses?  Because face it, unless you’re a computer whiz yourself, you don’t know how to wipe your computer’s memory, now do you?  I don’t mean clear out the recent browsing history, occasionally I can actually do that.  I mean the “innards” of your computer.  Where, the experts tell us, our entire online life is recorded.  Forever.  Unless you’ve got one of those wiping devices from the CIA, of course, and I don’t know about you, but I just don’t have a lot of those high tech luxuries on my shelf.

So.  How easy a target would a writer be to set up for all manner of criminal shenanigans?  Me, for example.  Well, let’s see.  Over the past few years I’ve learned how to obtain a marriage license 24/7 in Vegas and where to go to use it.  I know where prostitution’s legal in Nevada and where it isn’t.  (And actually, it isn’t legal in Las Vegas). I’ve got a passing acquaintance with Voo-Doo and its hierarchy of spirits. I’ve checked out the quality and measurement of various controlled substances, the styles and types of different handguns and the damages each can inflict. I know the Temple of Isis at Pompeii was excavated in 1764. I know golems are creatures from Jewish mythology made of sand who do their makers bidding.

The problem is, somewhere in the inner workings of my laptop, it’s recorded for anyone who knows how to access it that I’ve researched all these things.  So theoretically, it wouldn’t be all that hard to build a circumstantial case against me that I’m planning to off my husband by means of a golem armed with a .357 Magnum, run away to Vegas, open a brothel, and practice black magic, now would it? 

Oh, wait!  I forgot!  Currently,  I’m touring Daytona Beach in preparation for Bikers’ Week, the setting of my work in progress, The Coven, the third in the War-N-Wit, Inc. series.  So they’d think I was running away with an Outlaw Biker.  Of course.  How remiss of me.  They wouldn’t look for me in Vegas, they’d look for me on Main Street in Daytona over at the Boot Hill Saloon.  Or maybe at the Bank & Blues Jazz Club. 

If you’d like to see the results of all this web-crawling, hop on over to my web-blog, http://gailroughton.blogspot.com where you can view the final results of all this incriminating research.  Because none of my books would have been possible without it.  And keep an eye out for The Coven, coming soon from Books We Love, Ltd. 

The Coven

Chad and Ariel Garrett are off to Bikers’ Week in Daytona!  Chad’s buddy Spike, bounty-hunter turned pediatrician, is coming out from Vegas to go with them.  And Ariel’s little sister Stacy’s riding, too. 

But you really didn’t think the Warlock and Witch private investigative team could get away with having a few days off, did you?  Of course not.  Chad got a call about an undercover agent riding with an OMG.  An Outlaw Motorcycle Gang.  The guys with the 1% patch on their jacket.  The agent’s MIA.  As in “Missing in Action”.  Any law enforcement agency looking around for somebody who can talk the talk and walk the walk – well, of course the first person they’re going to call is Chad Garrett.  The broomstick rides again.  Disguised as a Honda. (Bet you thought I was going to say Harley, didn’t you?  Sorry.  Chad’s a Honda man.) 

Note from Ginger:  You can't miss Gail's War-N-Wit series.  It's awesome.  I can't wait for the Coven.  *smile*

Ginger's Sunday Sampler from Gail Roughton

I sort of fell off the wagon last week.  Hubby and I both were feeling our age.  He hurt his back and I sprained something in my ankle.  We both slept most of the weekend away so we didn't have to think about how old we've gotten.  :)  Anyhow, I'm back this week with an offering from a great story I'm reading, War-N-Wit, Inc - Resurrection.  If you like witches and warlocks, you've got to grab this one. This is the second in Gail Roughton's War-N-Wit series:

Blurb:

Resurrection. A secret society. Not everyone can join, just the elite few who remember their past lives. Only the Seer knows if those memories are truth or fabrication. There’s just one problem. The new Seer is missing in action. War-N-Wit’s new assignment is a blast from the past! But whose past?

Excerpt:

The honeymoon was over.  And a damn good thing, too.  As honeymoons go, this one had been a killer.  Almost for real.

I glared down at my husband.  Officially, we'd been married five days.  Unofficially, well--let's just say we'd been together a lot longer than that.  Through eternity, in fact.

"The doctor said you needed to stay at least three days!  So if you think you're walking out of this hospital within thirty-six hours of almost bleedin' to death, you got another think coming Magic Man!"

He flung the white hospital bedcovers back with his right arm, at up and swung his legs off the bed.  He was good, I'll give him that.  I doubt anybody but me would've noticed the white tinge around his lips or the faint grimace when his left arm and shoulder moved.  Then again, nobody but me could feel the sting from the torn flesh around the bullet hole in his shoulder.

I said we'd been together through eternity, didn't I?  Well, there's some side benefits to this "eternal couple" thing.  This time around, it seemed we didn't just know what the other was feeling.  We felt it.

The soreness wasn't so bad.  I knew it was there and I could keep it at a distance.

Occasionally, my foot still remembered the healing knife wound through his foot--a souvenir of our wedding trip to Vegas last week.  That is, our combination wedding trip coupled with hauling in the ho and pimp who'd skipped bail.  A little side business that hadn't gone quite as planned.  Still, not everybody could say they'd gotten married on a motorcycle in the White Chapel's Tunnel of Love Drive-Thru.

***
This author has a way of writing that makes you feel part of the story from the get go.  I've just started the book myself, and I can't wait to get back to it, so excuse me for cutting this short.  Guess you'll have to get your own copy to find out what happens to this snappy hero and heroine.  You can find it on Amazon.