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Tuesday, January 2, 2018

Grifters, shifters, and bootleg liquor.

Grifters, shifters, and bootleg liquor.

I hit a stage in my latest novel set in an all new shifter universe (keep an eye out for a cover reveal!) before I headed home for the holidays. I had two of my six (six, what am I, crazy??) grifter sisters books written, and as I drove into town, I passed this old haunted building on Route 94.

I really try not to have three brand new series going at once. But once my brain was caught in the mystry and romance of the Roaring Twenties, I knew it was going to happen. 

Sitting on the edge of the Paulinskill, this beautiful home has been used many times since it was built in the late Victorian era. A private residence. A bed and breakfast. A biker bar. And once, over ninety years ago, it was a speakeasy.

It's a long drive from New Jersey to North Carolina, so I began dreaming of this world of girls in short dresses, guys in black suits, and how a dive bar would fit in Harper's Mill.

A Harper would run it, naturally. They're charmers. Smooth talkers. What better type of men to run an illegal bar?

When I got home, I began researching. Due to its proximity to the Atlantic Ocean (and the St. Lawrence Seaway to the north and Cuba and the Bahamas to the south) New Jersey is perfectly situated for the illegal booze trade. And Harper's Mill, which has the Paulinskil (a minor tributary of the Deleware River) run completely through it, would historically be a great place for a speakeasy.

Now, how do I keep the mobsters from North Jersey and Philadelphia away from tiny Harper's Mill? With a little magic, of course.

Get your glad rags on, pour a Tom Collins, and come join me on a new adventure for my Harper's Mill Historicals.

Hope to see you there.

Here Come the Grifter Sisters

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