We've been hit with a lot of snow recently, and while I haven't taken the time to measure, I'd say there's three to four feet currently sitting outside my front porch. It's one of two ways to the front door, so I let the snow continue to pile up since all that's beneath is grass. I love watching it snow (and it still is as I glance out my office window). There are a myriad of scenarios in which snow can add a perfect backdrop to a murder scene or cause a struggle for characters. The next book in the Kyndall series—currently in the outline stage—will take us back to Alaska, the same setting for "Blade of Death." With mountains of snow, literally, all around me, I've enjoyed incorporating winter weather into my writing.
Below is a short sample not previously shared. Don't worry, it gives nothing away.
Teaser from "Blade of Death"
He was a patient man. The streets of Stewart’s Crossing were vacant at 2:00 a.m. on a Thursday morning. People in small towns often liked to gossip, and this hamlet in nowhere Alaska offered up more information than most. Two entertaining meals at the diner was all it took to catch a few tidbits of interesting news.
The man in custody at the jail would be on his way to Anchorage come morning. Good. He never liked Charles, never thought the slick lackey of Nicholas’s was good enough for Tori. He’d watched and waited for years, but Tori never noticed him. She could have had him, the man who loved her, who would cherish her. Instead, she chose money, status, and good looks.
He stared at his open palm and swore. Blood oozed through is fingers and the blade of the knife hovered a few inches above his hand. He should be more careful. Tori would be his soon enough. He sliced through a new, white sheet and wrapped the strip around his bleeding palm. Blood seeped through the cloth. He wondered if it was true about animals, if they could smell blood and carcasses from miles away.
He held his bloody palm near his face and inhaled. The authorities shouldn’t have found the body in the lake. He’d studied every method of disposal and had followed the instructions down to the last knot and cut. The first kill had been a mistake, but the rush of power he’d felt . . . he couldn’t explain it. Tori did this to him, and only she could undo it.
If it hadn’t been for the nature lovers, the last body would have been spread all over the forest by animals. He would have liked to watch wolves tear her limbs apart, leaving nothing in their wake except the stench of death.
No matter. His greatest masterpiece was yet to come.
Excerpt from "Blade of Death" © 2017 McKenna Grey
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