p.m.terrell is the pen name for Patricia McClelland
Terrell, the award-winning, internationally acclaimed author of more than 20
books in five genres. A full-time author since 2002, Black Swamp Mysteries is
her first series, inspired by the success of Exit 22 in 2008. The books include
Exit 22, Vicki's Key, Secrets of a Dangerous Woman, Dylan's Song and The
Pendulum Files. Vicki's Key placed as one of four finalists in the
2012 International Book Awards. Her historical book, River Passage, won
the 2010 Best Drama Award, and her romantic suspense, The Tempest Murders,
placed as one of four finalists in the 2013 USA Best Book Awards.
Prior to becoming a full-time writer, she founded
and operated two computer companies in the Washington, DC area. Her specialties
were computer crime and computer intelligence and her clients included the CIA,
Secret Service and Department of Defense. Computer technology often weaves its
way through her contemporary suspense/thrillers.
She is also the co-founder of The Book 'Em
Foundation and the founder of The Book 'Em North Carolina Writers Conference
and Book Fair, an annual event to raise money for literacy campaigns. She also
serves on the boards of the Friends of the Robeson County Public Library and
the Robeson County Arts Council, and served as the first female president for
the Chesterfield County/ Colonial Heights Crime Solvers.
Where to find her:
When
I wrote Vicki’s Key, the second book
in the Black Swamp Mysteries series, I needed to introduce a man that Vicki
would fall for fast and hard. Being a research fanatic, I searched for studies
that had been conducted on exactly what most women find attractive in a man—and
what keeps them coming back for more.
The
result was the introduction of Irishman Dylan Maguire. My research must have
been on target because he was supposed to be in just one book. But when my
editors and readers read the book they told me in no uncertain terms: Dylan
will be a main character throughout the entire series. Period.
It
all started with accents. It turned out that the accent that women love the
most worldwide is Scottish followed by Irish and then Australian.
One
characteristic women love is a great sense of humor. So when I was
contemplating making the character Scottish or Irish, I gravitated toward the
Irish because of their love of a good time, their reputation for being
easy-going, their gift of gab and their love of humor.
Women
still gravitate toward the tall, dark and handsome. So of course Dylan is
taller than most with black hair and a body a woman can’t stop looking at (nor
would she want to).
He
has hazel eyes. We don’t hear much about hazel eyes anymore because green and
hazel eyes are not as common as they once were. About the only place where
those eye colors are common are in the Republic of Ireland and the United
Kingdom.
It
turns out that women love a romantic man—someone who enjoys showering her with
love, roses, attention and a good time. But they also want a man who can
protect them. Dylan has been shown throughout the series to have a soft streak
when it comes to the woman he loves; he is a true romantic. But he is also quite
capable of defending her, even if it means murder.
I
love writing the Black Swamp Mysteries series because the characters are so
multi-faceted. With each book, we learn more about Dylan Maguire, particularly
in Book Four, Dylan’s Song, in which
he returns to his native Ireland to search for a missing CIA operative. From
his accent to his muscle to his personality, he’s definitely a character I will
be writing about for a long time to come.
And
who would I want to play Dylan if the series was turned into film? My pick
would be Kevin Ryan, an Irish actor who hails from Dublin.
p.m. will be awarding a beautiful Celtic cross necklace to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour. Comment on every stop to enter!
Blurb:
CIA operative Dylan Maguire joins forces
with psychic spy Vicki Boyd to find out who is bombing merchant vessels bound
for the United States from China. Their mission will lead them
to Black Sites, the high seas and into covert operations. And when an
assassin escapes from prison determined to finish the job he started, they find
their personal lives and their missions are about to collide in ways they never
could have imagined.
Excerpt:
Brenda was
leaning her head against the window as if asleep and now she began to move her
fingers ever so slightly toward the door handle. She kept her eyes on his
reflection; he was focused on driving, his eyes locked on the road just as it
had been before. Only his right hand was holding the steering wheel now; it had
slipped to a three o’clock position.
A slight
movement caught her attention; it was so subtle, she almost thought she’d
imagined it. Then she spotted the glint of metal across his body, though the
road still held his attention. Her fingers locked onto the door handle as the
metal rose slightly up and away from his body. He turned his head as his left
hand snapped forward.
She jerked the
door open as the shot rang out. She felt something sharp and hot against her
shin as she kicked herself away from the car. She tumbled onto the pavement
before hitting the shoulder, the gravel feeling like a million razors slicing
through her flesh. She heard her own voice as if it was disembodied, screaming
as she forced herself to roll across the sharp gravel before plummeting down
the incline, compelling herself to continue rolling even as she realized she’d
been shot in the leg.
She heard the
car’s brakes slamming, the tires squealing as the man struggled to bring the
car to a stop. At seventy miles an hour, it should have taken the car further
from her even as she rushed to escape. But when she came to her feet and looked
back at the road, she estimated he was about three hundred feet further down
the road—not far enough.
She ran toward
the tree line, which now appeared too far away. As a second shot rang out, she
knew his sights were set on her back, and she struggled to run straight,
fighting the impulse to run opposite of him. It kept her profile smaller but
when he shot a third and then fourth time, she could almost feel the bullets
whizzing past her.
The third and
fourth shots sounded increasingly louder and she knew he was running after her.
Her breath was loud and labored, her blood pounding in her temples. Even as she
drew closer to the shadows of the trees, she could feel herself slowing down.
The adrenaline that propelled her down the slope and to her feet was fighting
against the pain in her leg.
She could feel
the blood oozing down her shin and pooling in her shoe, causing her to slip and
slide along grass already slick with dew. Another shot rang out, whizzing so
close to her hair that she thought it had passed through it.
She threw
herself into the shadows, pushing herself beyond her leg’s endurance to keep
going, to get into the pine forest, weaving and bobbing forward and eastward,
away from the car, away from the interstate. Hopefully, away from him.
She wanted to
stop; she wanted to pull some article of clothing off herself and wrap it
around her shin to keep the blood in, to keep the flesh together, but she
didn’t dare hesitate. She heard the branches cracking behind her; he was there
and he was closing on her. Even as she propelled herself forward, she knew all
he had to do was follow the movement of the branches ahead of him to know
exactly where she was.
Where to Buy: Kindle
