A friend of mine jokes at times about her one-armed self – the other her who does the bad things. It’s a funny little thing that started with The Fugitive, but for me it took on a new life when I saw a one-armed man riding a motorcycle in my town.
At first, maybe because I’m a little slow on the uptake at times, I wasn’t sure what I was looking at when I saw a hook gripping the handle bar of his three wheel motorcycle. Then I registered the line of black plastic ending just below the flesh of his elbow. Then came the fact that there was a Purple Heart on his license plate. Then the rest of him, at least what I could see from behind him, registered. Wide shoulders, strong arms, close-cropped hair, relaxed posture astride the wide seat. Sitting before me was no ordinary man. And he got me thinking. What was his story? What could he have been through during his service to our country?
If I were more…daring, maybe I would have followed him to his destination to ask such questions. Then again, that could just as easily, and more likely, be too intrusive and CREEPY. Instead, I settled for the twists and turns his story took in my mind. By the time I got home, Jace was a living, breathing man residing in my mind, ready to have his story told. And I knew he would be Misty’s hero. After all, who could be a better match for a frilly, flower arranging diva than a wound, grudge toting former Marine?
From the first moment, Jace and Misty were entertaining for me. They kept me guessing even when I thought I knew what was coming. And they had me falling in love with them over and over again as I worked on their story through the writing and editing process.
I know the real life Misty, at least the one whose spirit bled into the Misty on the pages of TWISTED IN TULIPS. Maybe one day I will meet the real life Jace, and if nothing else I can shake his hand and thank him for the sacrifice he made for us.