October 12, 2013

Paranormal: Lost Finder @PamelasBooks #RLFblog #mystery

The Lost Finder 
Pamela Fryer, welcome to Romance Lives Forever. Let's talk about your book, The Lost Finder.
Genre: Paranormal romance
Publisher: Pink Pixel Publishing
Cover artist: I do all my own (indie) covers
Length: 66,000
Heat rating: explicit
Tagline: The first halfway decent guy to come along in eons...and he's from another planet.
Blurb: Private Investigator Brooke Weaver hopes she can slip into her Oregon hometown, find her client's missing teenage daughter, and be on her way again before anyone notices. Not likely.
Within forty-eight hours she encounters her ex-fiancé, the three dirty cops she testified against, and a drop-dead gorgeous FBI agent hunting a gigantic, mutated spider. He's the hottest thing with muscles she's seen in a long time, but he keeps making strange references like "your planet," and "my home-world." To make matters worse, he expects her to lead him into the sewers to find his escaped creature. Brooke doesn't want any part of giant insects from South America or secret agents or very dark, haunted sewer tunnels. Most of all, she wants no part of her dying hometown and the ghosts she left buried here.
But a sexy hunk in a clingy shirt, she might consider a small part of.
Buy links:
What are your main characters' names, ages, and occupations?
I typically write characters who are late twenties, early thirties. Older characters are just a little wiser and more mature. Young twenties are just too angsty for me. Brooke is 28 and Jager is 32. She's a private investigator, and he's a lieutenant in the Universal Guard; the military run by the Interplanetary Alliance.
"Where does the transfer tube go?"
Her sanity was being stretched, threatening to snap. What the heck was a transfer tube?
"Over here," he said when he saw she didn't understand. He started into the darkness.
Not good. "Look, I don't know where anything goes in this place. I've never been here before."
He kept walking. She should just leave. What would he do? Arrest her?
The day had turned too weird for words, and she wished she could click her heels together three times and wake up at home. Hanging out in a dungeon with a strange man was last on her list of favorite things to do. A gorgeous face and a Mr. Universe body didn't make him trustworthy. Ted Bundy had been good-looking too.
She realized he had stopped and was looking down into a hole in the floor. She took a few steps in his direction. "You mean the pipe? It goes to the sewer, probably."
He had the silver gizmo in his hand again, but it looked different now. He'd unfolded two panels, making the unit three times as large. Blue gridlines glowed on the display, marred by a strange red outline and a blurry green dot.
"I have to go," she repeated. "I have to alert the authorities about Emily."
That got his attention. He looked up and started toward her with such purpose she shrank back.
"The body must be destroyed."
"That's for the family to decide."
Jager marched past her. "It is contagious."
Was that why he'd said not to touch it? He could have been more convincing if that were the case. She looked down at her hand. Had she gotten something nasty on herself?
Flames erupted with a roar. Brooke gasped. He was burning Emily's body!
"Stop! Are you crazy? You can't do that!" She ran over, needing to put out the fire but not knowing how. She looked around for something to smother the flames with, but before she could, he grabbed her around the waist and swung her away.
She thrashed free and darted away from him, aiming the Taser before she even realized she'd drawn it.
"You don't have permission to touch me!"
He raised both hands in surrender. "I am sorry. I was only trying to protect you."
"I don't need your protection, got it?" She looked him over. "I want to see some ID."
"What is eye-dee?"
A smartass. Definitely a MIB.
She looked back to where Emily's body had been. A burst of sparks popped into the air. There was nothing left except a burning shoe.
"Identification," she snapped. She ought to shock him just to twist his balls. The FBI was not the top of the food chain. She would report this to someone with authority who would put his ass through the wringer, and leave it to them to break the news to poor Emily's family.
"Do you have identification?" he countered.
"I'm not the one setting fire to bodies I might have killed."
"I did not kill the Earth female."
Brooke looked at the spot on the floor that used to be Emily's body. She hoped he was telling the truth, if only so she wasn't standing in the same room with a psychotic killer. And what the hell did he mean by Earth female?
The Taser yanked out of her hand. She blinked and realized it was in Jager's meaty paw, yet he hadn't moved an inch closer.
"How did you—"
"Please do not point weapons at me." He scowled as he turned it in his hand, examining it as though he'd never seen such a thing. He probably hadn't. The model wasn't even on the market yet.
He turned it sideways and activated the trigger. The contacts soared past his face, trailed by their ultra-thin wires. He jerked in surprise.
"What function does this perform?" he asked, again with genuine sincerity in his tone.
She still had the .45 in her shoulder holster, but Brooke didn't draw. There was no such thing as threatening a man with a gun. If she needed it, it would be drawn and fired in the same breath. Jager was either an arrogant government jerk-off, or an escaped nutcase. But either way, she wasn't sure killing him was necessary, just yet.
"It's a prototype. I paid twelve hundred dollars for that thing, and you just broke it."
"Was that not supposed to happen?"
She blasted an angry sigh through her nostrils. "May I have it back, please?" She held out her hand and drew a deep breath.
Jager Tolon had this chance to prove if he was a threat or not.
He offered it. She inched closer and reached to take it. She pressed the recoil and the wires retracted. The contacts didn't appear to have been damaged when they fell to the floor, but she still scowled at him anyway.
"Jager Tolon," she repeated. If he wasn't going to show her ID, she could at least tell someone his name.
He nodded.
Right. It was probably an alias.
"What may I call you?"
A tart reply crossed her mind, but she held her tongue. "Brooke Weaver."
"What is your role here?"
He hadn't figured this out already? "I'm looking for Sara Brown." She repeated herself slowly, as if talking to a child.
"What is your function within Earth's society?"
Damn. When did I become Alice in Horrorland? She holstered the Taser. "Um, I'm gonna go now."
"I require your assistance." He turned and headed back toward the pipe, as if her acquiescence was a given. Definitely an FBI man. She watched his long stride, admiring the broad stretch of his shoulders and the neat cut of his triceps. Short cut hair added to the appeal. Call her crazy, but she loved the military look.
A ball of ice dropped into her stomach when she realized what he wanted. "I am not going down there."
The night had turned eerily familiar. She pushed the memory out of her mind—a dreadful memory of another night, just like this one. It had begun routinely enough, but that night she'd turned from a police officer into a hunted animal, chased into the sewer system by men who had turned from coworkers to killers. Dawn had come before she'd found safety.
Jesus. Do I have any good memories of this town? Technically it had been Portland, but compared to New York, Ridgemont felt exactly the same.
"No, no way," she repeated.
"It is your fault the creature got away," he growled in return.
So the Company Man was capable of losing his cool. Her brows crawled up. "My fault?" Unbelievable. "How do you figure that?"
"When you discharged your weapon at it, it recoiled and my pulse missed." He sent a scowling glance at her holstered gun. "Your bullets will not kill it."
"Then you don't need me." And screw you, it was not my fault. "How did that thing find its way here, anyway?"
He had that Palm Pilot unfolded again. He ignored her question. "There is a human down there with it."
Another human? Sara.
Against her better judgment, she walked over and looked at his device. A squiggly red figure moved in time with a green dot over bright blue gridlines. The screen was cloudy with gray smears.
"I will soon lose detection because it is underground. I must follow it. There appears to be a network of transfer tubes and if I lose detection, it will escape me."
She stared into the hole. Sweat formed an icy crust on her skin. She heard little of what he said, other than that a person was down there.
It could be Sara.
It probably was. Although...she had no idea if Sara was even among the three women who'd escaped the raid.
But Sara hadn't been on either of the buses.
God, was she really considering going down into a sewer pipe with a strange man the size of Paul Bunyan? A strange man who had just barbecued a dead body, disarmed her from across the room, and spoke like he was from another planet? A strange man with perfectly straight teeth, chiseled cheekbones, and dreamy eyes that said "Not only do I know how to please a woman, but I enjoy it"?
Holy Hell, she'd been alone too long. She was paranoid and horny. A dangerous combination.


Tell us about your story's world. What is it like in this period or place?
The Lost Finder is a paranormal romance that takes place near a small town I used to live in, outside Portland. I've changed the name for fiction's sake. I used to hike in the many state parks where the climate could change in minutes and mere hundreds of feet in elevation. Sometimes in the middle of the day when clouds obscured the sun, it was like being plunged instantly into night.
What inspired you to write this book?
My husband and I went camping in a remote area. I was already getting a little creeped out by just how remote it was; we'd canoed across a lake and hiked up a hill to a plateau carrying that canoe. There wasn't a road around for miles. That night, we heard a loud Boom! and saw a bright flash of light, but we couldn't figure out what from. Throw in a writer's imagination, and The Lost Finder wasn't a far stretch.
Which character in your current book do you think readers will like the most?
I think my female readers will like Jager best, because he's not your average humanoid. He has a fierce sense of pride and deep, true integrity. And he knows how to treat his woman right.
Are you a plotter, or do you prefer to make it up on the spur of the moment?
I'm a little of both. I often plunge in when an opening grabs me, and I like not knowing everything that is going to happen in a book because the story needs to be as much of a journey for me as it is the reader. But a certain amount of analysis has to happen, so I know the story has the elements it needs to make a good romance with a solid plot.
Who has helped you the most in your career as an author?
To this I would answer RWA. Yes, RWA is an organization not an individual, but it is an organization made up of individuals, and so many of them have helped me become the writer I am today. The friends, associates and support groups I found within are invaluable. I reiterate with the next question…
Any advice for new authors?
Join a peer group. Trust those you meet with experience, help those you meet who seek it. No artist should ever stop learning, practicing their craft, or perfecting their skills. Don't be in too much of a hurry! With the fast-growing popularity and simplicity of Independent publishing, it has never been easier to get your book into the hands of readers and sometimes, that ease can equal your worst mistake. The biggest mistake I see new authors make is publishing too soon. Ask any bestselling author, they will tell you they deserved the first rejections they received.
If you could time travel what era would be your first stop?
I would go back to 1910 and bet on Philadelphia in the world series. And then I'd buy a big ranch that I put in trust for my future self.
Do you play any musical instruments?
I play piano, and that is the reason I hate being called Pammy. My piano teacher used to wine at me in the most pathetic voice for not practicing, and call me Pammy. "Come on, Pammy!" {{shudder}}
What's your favorite movie?
All of my favorite movies throughout time have been romances, or pseudo romances. (One of my all-time favorites was Spaceballs. I know, I'm weird.) My favorite movie now is Tangled. Yes, it was a cartoon, but it was so absolutely beautiful it qualifies.

Please complete the sentence

I love pizza with black olives.
I'm always ready for ice cream.
When I'm alone, I talk to myself.
You'd never be able to tell, but I have a potty mouth. I keep it in check when I'm not alone.
If I had a halo it would be red. No, purple. No—green!
If I could do math I'd still never be an accountant.
I can never skydive because I think it is the Craziest. Thing. Ever.

Previous Books

The Midnight Effect
One Snowy Night Before Christmas
Last Rights
August Unknown

Books Coming Soon

One Snowy Night Under the Mistletoe 11/13
Kiss Me Before Dawn 4/14


I am giving away one print copy of The Lost Finder drawn from commenters who answer the following question. My favorite alien from popular fiction or television is:

Find Me Here


  1. Hi Kayelle ~ Thanks for having me today!

    1. Glad to have you here. It's quiet today! Lots of looks though. ^_^

  2. Hi, Pam and Kayelle! Love the excerpt, Pam, and your covers are always so great! Okay, my favorite alien, dare I say that it's Spock in Star Trek! I always loved Leonard Nimoy and the way he portrayed Spock as totally (almost) emotionless, but giving us a sneak peak inside every once in a while. But I also love the young Spock in the new movies. More human, letting himself go. It's very sexy.

    Good luck with the book, Pam!


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