My name is Nancy C. Weeks, and as mentioned in my bio below, I’m sitting on my deck enjoying the birds chirp away in my maple trees while Robin Spielberg’s soft piano tunes resonate from my Bluetooth speakers. What my bio doesn’t say about me is that right now my nerves are eating away at my confidence even in my perfect writing cave. In a few hours, I’m the guest speaker for our local Rotary Club. They have invited me to talk about my life as an author, how I come up with my characters and how this amazing dream has impacted my life.
When I was asked to speak, I was excited about sharing my experiences, and what an honor. Oh boy, where did that excitement disappear? Doubt lives too close to my heart, and at times, its stifling. It’s easy to sit here surrounded by everyone/everything I love. I can’t stay here forever, and growth comes from change. So, what do I do?
I fight back. Doubt may be my deepest disbelief about myself, but I can’t feed it. Instead, I’ll place a big smile on my face and try not to roll over anyone’s toes with my power chair on my way to the front of the room. My smile is my weapon. And believe me, getting to the front of the room and smiling is about as much as my brain can handle. Once I start talking about the characters in my books, who I’ve come to love, the smile will turn into a real, heartfelt SMILE, my new comfort zone.
My characters must have flaws too if I expect my readers to respond to them. In The Analyst, Book 2 of The D’Azzo Family series, Tessa D’Azzo, my brilliant FBI analyst, believes she knows too much about everything but can do nothing to help anyone, her eidetic memory, a curse. Her foundation, her father, has been ripped out from under her when a sniper kills him on the bike path yards from their home. He had a special way with Tessa, something in his voice and touch that would clear the mass of data blinding her. Captain Eric Logan, the man she drives mad with her theories also seems to have a similar touch, but she must keep him from her heart. Tessa D’Azzo finds her special weapon and has become my strongest female character to date. Enjoy the short excerpt below, an introduction of Tessa with Eric Logan.
FBI analyst Tessa D’Azzo new assignment is a tough job even for her unusual skills: tear decorated police officer Oliver Gates’s life apart to find out why he went on a killing rampage before the Beltway sniper put a bullet through his heart. Anyone else would have missed the one link Tessa uncovers that connects Gates’s death, the sniper, and her own father’s murderer.
But she reports to the one detective whose goal in life is to bury her career. Just let him try to distract her from using her advantage to hunt down this murderer.
Gates’s replacement, Captain Eric Logan, has had his fill of Tessa’s brilliant but erratic mind, her unfounded theories, and the way she haunts his dreams. He owes Joe D’Azzo a great debt. He will find who’s behind his friend’s murder without Tessa’s interference destroying his case.
Yet when grief overwhelms Tessa’s focus, Eric’s closeness is the only thing that centers her. And he can’t squelch the desire to convince her that life is about more than working the case. Maybe this time, she doesn’t have to fight the battle alone.
With the killer close enough to touch and Tessa the target, will love transform them to true partners?
Wish me luck tonight. In comments below, please let me know what your special weapon is to conquer what’s holding you back. Thank you for spending time with me. Until we met again, I wish you great health and contentment.
Nancy C. Weeks
About Nancy C. Weeks
Nancy C. Weeks has loved happy-ever-after romances since her early teens. She met and married her hero at the University of Texas. She spent the next several years honeymooning and working overseas. Today, she lives in suburban Maryland with her husband of more than thirty years. With her two grown children out of the nest, she enjoys spending her days writing suspenseful happily-ever-after adventures outside on the deck as the local bird population keeps her company. When she is not writing, Nancy loves to blog about fascinating people, both real and fictional. The one quote that kept her dream alive:
“Many of life’s failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up.”
The Analyst Book 2 D’Azzo Family
Releases September 24 2019–Pre-Order SALE
Enjoy the read!
From Chapter Two…
A deep rumble came from the pit of her stomach. Food. That would help change her mood. Tessa reached into her bag for her thermo-insulated pouch and pulled out her mom’s beef stew, one of the many benefits of returning to her childhood home. She crossed the empty bullpen and entered the break room. Once the microwave buzzed, she took the hot container from the oven, distributing the heat in both hands and charged smack into a three-piece suit. Tall, muscle, all man.
“Look who finally escaped her cave.”
Shit. Okay, she was avoiding him. Tessa raised her chin and met Eric Logan’s stare.
Say something … anything.
Brilliant use of the English language. Now try adding an ounce of intelligence.
Nothing came to her. He was too close. Every nerve fired at once, and her ability to reason drifted beyond her grasp. The man had an inner strength that radiated off him like a heated blanket, and erotic, smoky eyes that transmuted her calculated, logical thoughts into whispers of jazz, dim lights, and bodies moving…
Damn it, stop. Think. And if she ever let on how he affected her… She did not have a thing for Eric Logan.
She rubbed the back of her hand over the top of her nose. Allergies. That’s what this was. Too many cobwebs, dead bugs, and dust.
“Good evening. You’re here late.”
He laughed, and his eyes actually twinkled. Shit. He was laughing at her.
“Special Agent D’Azzo, one of these days, you’re going to have to tell me what goes on in that head of yours when you space out like that.”
“I don’t space out.”
“How would you explain the last few moments of dead time? Where do you go?”
“That’s a crazy question. I’m right here.” She tried maneuvering around him, but Eric didn’t budge.
“Why are you here, Tessa?”
“I would think that was obvious.”
His eyes rolled. “You’re so literal. It’s after eight. Don’t you have a life?”
“Not until the man who ordered my father’s death is found.”
“We all need time away from this place.”
Eric opened his mouth to say something else, but Tessa’s attention was drawn across the room. Her office door was open, slightly.
“Did you go into my office?”
A shadow moved. She shoved the warm container into Logan’s hands and stalked across the bullpen. A man towered over her desk, a flash drive inserted in her computer.
“What the hell are you doing?”
His left arm swung, his elbow almost connecting to her cheek. All of her federal agent training shot front and center. She blocked the hit, grabbed the man’s arm, flipping him onto the floor, and yanked the drive from her computer. He clutched Tessa’s legs and tugged them out from under her. Her forehead hit the edge of the desk on her way down. Pain shot through her skull as a scream clogged her throat. Before she could find balance, he jerked her into a standing position, a chunk of her hair in one fist as the other aimed at her face. It never landed. The next instant, the sound of bone crushing bone filled the office and the man hit the floor, hard, dragging her on top of him. Her jaw struck his forehead, and the coppery taste of blood filled her mouth.
Tessa shoved herself off him and scooted several feet across the floor. With her back to the door, she stood. She grabbed for the desk corner as a wave of nausea and dizziness took hold, but all she found was air. Damn. She was going down. Her knees buckled. But before she hit the floor, something caught her and drew her closely into hard muscle. Eric. That’s where the second fist came from. She focused on his glare, anything to keep the blackness from seeping in from the corners of her vision.
There was something very important that had to be said. It was right there, but the thought fluttered like a moth. Then it hit her. The man, he tried to steal data from her computer. Someone sent him.
“Don’t you dare do this to me, Tessa.”
She was losing ground. A sharp pain seeped through her head as her heart beat pounded between her ears, striking her like a drummer striking a cymbal. “Don’t let anyone near this guy. Protect him with your life.” Darkness seeped through her and she let it in.
Where readers can get to know Nancy C. Weeks