Page 24 of My Salvation
Once everything is adjusted and set up, I give Lowell a thumbs up. He’s speaking to a few fans who arrived at the event early. I snatch a book from the pile. I don’t even know what genre he writes, so I skim the synopsis.
Hmm...a military thriller. Fits him perfectly. I’ll have to buy a book before I leave, I muse.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Carl’s Book Nook. I’m Cheryl, and this is Dale, and we’ll be taking care of things tonight. If you need anything, just let us know. Now, we’ll bring out Lowell Monroe, the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author known for his military and political thrillers. Lowell recently releasedMission Control, which is the last book in the Robert Newman series.” She waits as the crowd applauds. “He will read a bit from the book, and then we’ll commence with the signing. Refreshments are available in the back of the room. Thank you, and enjoy!”
The crowd applauds as Lowell steps up to the podium. “Thank you,” he says. “It’s always tough finishing a series, because you come to count on the characters and their ability to tell their own story. This is definitely my favorite series, and I hope you’ll be pleased with how it ends. Chapter One.”
Lowell’s voice is deep and strong as he reads from the action-packed book. His voice, perfect for reading to a crowd, flows over me, making me shiver a bit. As he speaks, his military experience comes through to the audience, and the action packed into every chapter becomes even more believable. His intelligence in conveying that knowledge to others is apparent as he confidently captures the audience and brings them into his world.
After reading for about 30 minutes, he takes a few questions from the crowd. Cheryl and I finish setting up the ropes for the signing lines. He wraps up, and Cheryl provides instructions to the audience on how to pick up a signed copy of their book. If they had not pre-ordered, there were additional books for purchase available, and Lowell would be happy to sign a copy for them.
About an hour and fifteen minutes later, Lowell signs a book for the last person in line. Looking at Cheryl, I ask her what happens next, and she explains that she and her staff will take care of putting everything back together. I ask to purchase a copy of the series, and she calls Dale over to pull them from the shelves and pack them up for me. After paying, I pick up the bag and head to the front of the store, where Lowell is looking at his book display and talking to Lisa on the phone.
“Everything went well. Kate handled things beautifully and says to tell you thank you for all the instructions and pictures,” he is telling her as I walk up. He looks down at my bag and sees his books in it and frowns. “Lisa, I’ve got to go. We’ll talk more next week. Go get some rest.” He hangs up the phone. Still frowning, he questions me, “Why did you buy the books? I would have given you some of my copies.”
“Just contributing to your bestseller status,” I tease him. “Seriously, I love a good book, and this series sounds exciting.”
Shaking his head, he gives me one of his penetrating stares where he is trying to figure out my nefarious motives or angle. I roll my eyes. His eyes glint with irritation at my gesture. He takes a firm hold of my elbow and steers me outside and into the vehicle. Once he is in the driver’s seat, he starts the vehicle and turns to me.
“Would you at least let me buy you dinner for helping out today?” he asks, exasperated.
Laughing at his expression, I agree to dinner. “I’m starving, and dinner would be wonderful. What do you have in mind?”
“I know a great little place that serves authentic Spanish tapas and paella,” he says as he starts the vehicle. “Does that sound good?”
I put on my seat belt as I tell him yes.
Lowell pulls the SUV into traffic, and about 15 minutes later we pull in front of a small brick building with a beautiful courtyard and fountain. Lowell comes around and helps me out of the vehicle, then, keeping his hand lightly on my back, walks us into the restaurant. These light touches of his are driving me crazy. Tingles linger, making me crave more.
“Mr. Lowell, it is so good to see you,” exclaims the lady at the front desk. “We are actually quiet tonight, so we can probably seat you at your favorite table by the fireplace.”
Lowell smiles. “That will be perfect, Maria, thank you.”
Guiding me to the left, I notice a large fireplace with several tables around it. We sit at the one to the right of the fireplace, and Maria sets down menus in front of us.
Looking around, I notice a lot of couples at other tables, candles lit throughout, and an overall coziness. This is a very romantic place. I squirm a bit as I think of Lev. Lowell hadn’t asked me out on a date, though. It’s just a dinner, a thank you for the event, right?
Ignoring the romantic vibe, I turn to Lowell. “So, how good is the paella here? They seem to have several variations on the menu, but the seafood one looks the best.”
“The owners are from Spain, and the paella is excellent,” he explains. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Mmm, I’ll have a glass of the red Sangria.” Licking my lips in anticipation of the drink, I can almost taste it. It’s so hard to find good Sangria.
Lowell stares down at my lips for a second, then quickly looks back up. “Sounds good,” he says curtly. Shifting a bit, he puts down the menu and takes a long drink of water. When the waiter comes by, he gives him our order.
“How did you go from the Army to writing thrillers?”
He shrugs as he thinks about it. “I was in the intelligence branch in the Army, so I was used to trying to predict a million scenarios with a limited set of variables until I had actionable intel. It’s similar to creating a story. I start out with a few variables and a lot of potential scenarios that eventually get whittled down until I can tell a cohesive but action-packed story.”
“Well, you seem to love it, and guessing by tonight’s audience, you are very successful at it. Tell me about the first book you wrote.”
He tells me about his first book, and all the trouble he ran into because it too closely resembled a classified scenario he had led while he was in the Army. I listen to him explain his frustration with how he had to twist the plot around to present a completely plausible but entirely unique story before they would allow him to publish it. I’m fascinated by his involvement in real life intelligence plots. As he speaks about all the details, I marvel at how his brain comes up with all the different plot points impacting the ending in a hundred different ways.
“Lev told me you joined the Army because of him, but it sounds like it was the perfect challenging environment for you?”
Studying me for a second, he admits that the Army called to him. “Listening to Sarge, my foster father, talk about how the Army provided him with control and direction appealed to me. My life prior to Sarge’s home was a series of unstable environments where I had little control. Joining the Army had the added benefit of also cementing my brotherhood with Lev. Discovering I was good at intelligence gave me both direction and purpose.”
The food arrives, and we both dig in. Groaning, I thank him for introducing me to this wonderful restaurant. The paella is divine. Licking my lips, I reach out to try my Sangria and groan again.
