Try Just Once More--Out now from The Wild Rose Press. After being cleared of murder charges, Maggie McGuire escaped to her childhood home to rebuild her shattered life. She vowed never to forgive, nor forget, because she’d never know when the past might rise up to bite her in the butt. Three years later, when time and distance have tempered her pain, the past comes back. This time her children are in danger. And the nosy chief of police keeps coming back, wearing down her defenses. He is relentless about uncovering her sordid past in order to deal with the present. She once paid a very high price for trusting a cop. Is Mike Brandt for real or another uniformed bully disguised as a smooth-talking hunk? He’ll have to walk a very long road before she puts the lives of her precious children in his hands. No innocent when it comes to personal betrayal, Chief Michael Brandt will have to put aside past resentments in order to uncover the real Maggie, then convince her he is worth the effort to try just once more. BUY | Read Excerpt | Read Reviews | See Awards

The hand dropped. The demand persisted. “I’d like a more detailed report on my officer.”

She nodded at the desk behind them, at the staff who were making a production of not eavesdropping. “Have one of them page the supervisor.”

“I’d prefer something from you.”

Through a jaw tight enough to crush all four molars, she took several deep breaths. “I’m off duty. Call someone else.”

“I don’t want someone else. I want you.”

“Want me, sir? Not in this lifetime.” Composure intact, Maggie took perverse delight in the blush that was slowly creeping up his neck. “Excuse me. I have business elsewhere.” She began taking measured steps toward the exit.

His next words stopped her dead in her tracks. “I wonder how the administrators of this facility would feel if they knew one of their supervisors refused to give the new chief of police a status report on one of his men.”

A chill danced the length of her spine. Fine hairs at the nape of her neck came to attention, signaling danger in large print letters. She turned slowly, offering him one of her better Ice Bitch glares. Margaret Anesworth was familiar with this brand of arrogant man. One who expected females to cave in to his demands because of his position of power--or the weapon on his hip.

Digging into her shoulder bag, she whipped out a cell phone, then handed it to him. “The on-call admin tonight is Nicole Mosher. Her number is 555-6789.”

~ * ~

The woman had more brass than the Marine Corps band. “Look--Miz McGuire, could we start over?”

Her demeanor remained aloof, as if she’d just stepped in something foul. “You’re too late, Chief. Much too late.”

With a nod, she strode away and exited the building. The staff at the desk immediately sought various avenues of escape. As two nurses slipped past him, one said to her pal, “It’s always a treat watching the reigning queen of man-haters kick some guy to the curb.”

“Yeah, that Mag,” the other sighed. “She’s my hero.”

“Hero, my ass,” Mike fumed. Taking a slow count of three, he bolted for the exit door, following McGuire into the parking lot. Now a distance away from him, she strutted toward a late model, fire engine red Saturn, posture military-stiff, hair flowing around her shoulders in a halo of copper. Despite his agitation he couldn’t help but admire her guts. And her fanny.

“Maggie. Please. Let me apologize.”

Still moving, she called over her shoulder, “As I indicated before, you’re too late.”

Bitterness, an emotion tied too closely with his marriage, scalded his throat. “You know something, lady? A couple hours ago, I couldn’t decide if your beef is with cops or men in general. Obviously, that’s not the case.”

She came to a stop, drew her shoulders back, then turned. In that queen-to-peon tone she said, “Who awarded you the right to pass judgment on me?”

The verbal exchange gave him the time needed to reach her side. To get in her face. “Don’t try to convince me that all men rank as a lower life form with you. Not after I saw you hanging all over Investigator Jackson.”

She unlocked the car door. “Clearly, my convincing skills need a bit of polishing.”

“Perhaps that clinch was an example of how you step down from your throne to toy with the commoners.”

The light from an overhead security lamp reflected her stony features in the car window. “I beg your pardon?”

He took another step forward, put a hand on the door to prevent her from opening it. He was going to finish this, dammit. One way or another. “All I wanted was to find out how Tom is doing. The attitude wasn’t necessary.”

“I take threats to my position at this hospital very seriously, Mr. Brandt.”

“You misunderstood me. I--”

“I understood every word you said.”

“Wait a minute. All I said was--”

“No, you wait a minute,” she said, pushing his hand away. “You threatened my job if I didn’t cooperate with your pathetic come-on. That’s termed harassment.”

Come on? The top of his head felt like it was going to blow off. “Your majesty, I’d shit twice and die before coming on to the likes of you.”

The briefest of smiles crossed her face. “Finally something we can agree on.”

What they're saying about Try Just Once More:
            ". . . intricate mystery and intrigue [is] complicated by well thought out and flawlessly executed. . . character portrayal is so honest as to be almost raw at times. . . starkly honest revelations about alcoholism and its effect on the family . . . the reader lives through intense worry right along with the characters . . . one of those books that pulls you right in and changes your life. Don't miss this one."
The Romance Studio   5 Hearts

Winner of the 2007 Golden Wings Award from Wings Press for excellence in story telling ability, characterization and exceptional writing skill.

Winner, 2008 Barclay Gold, Romantic Suspense category