I don't know about you, but this week is just flying by. Maybe it's the longer days? Luckily B.C. Burgess had time to pop in and answer a few questions. Welcome!
SC; Tell me a little bit about your main character of this book.
BCB: After losing her mom, 21-year-old Layla Callaway journeys from her hometown in Oklahoma to coastal Oregon in search of a mysterious past. She’s a book lover, a coffee addict, and a Pisces, so she’s extremely sensitive, and her immense compassion can be a blessing and a curse. Despite her abundant talent and strength, she lacks confidence and often struggles with anxiety. Still reeling from the death of her mom and feeling lost in life, Layla’s not looking for love, but then Quin comes along.
SC: Oh, to be able to take the I-5 to Oregon! (Border still closed). Stop and get some Tillamook cheese…but I digress. Do you believe in the paranormal and if so, do you have an experience you can share?
BCB: I haven’t had overt experience with the paranormal, but I have seen animals and babies stare at and react oddly to things I can’t see, and I have gotten weird, hair-raising feelings when entering spaces. I attribute all these things to potential paranormal activity. Life is full of things we don’t understand. I know several people who have experienced paranormal activity, and I believe them.
SC: Fair enough. What titles are you working on now that you can tell us about?
BCB: I spent fifteen years writing the Mystic Series, and the final stretch was an incredibly difficult and emotional journey for me. I needed a break, so I haven’t written anything new as I prepare the final three books for publication. Once I do get back into my writing groove, I’m looking into possibly expanding the Mystic universe and launching a separate series with different characters. Or maybe I’ll try my hand at erotica!
SC: Go for it! Meanwhile we will take a look at your new novel.
Excerpt:
Right or wrong, Layla held their verdict on the edge of the executioner’s sword, and everyone who’d invaded the island would suffer the same fate. She didn’t have time to weigh their crimes – the murderers, voyeurs and brainwashed. Whatever part they’d played in the tragedies unfolding, they stood guilty on the brink of humanity’s destruction, and so they’d face her retribution. But before swinging the blade, Layla scanned the civilians for children, relieved to find none.
Not a shimmer of evidence exposed her as she planted her feet on the ancient cobblestone walkway. Then she raised her invisible palms and summoned her wall. She knew the magic worked as soon as she heard the outer guards’ shouts, which turned to screams the moment her deadly cloud caught up with its prey. They didn’t scream for long. The jet stream grew stronger as it contracted around the mountaintop like a savage rubber band, scorching people and plants alike.
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