Find more from this author on:
About the author:
When not dreaming of far away places and other stories, Ryshia can be found baking a new batch of cookies for the dog – he’s not spoiled much, reading pretty much anything although romance is a favourite, and, depending on the season; summer is for bikes, roller blades, gardening, garage sales, golf and the occasional beach run before the algae rolls in, and winter is for long walks, taking those long-thought-about trips, and lots of book and reading.
What inspired you to write your book?
I don’t know, but what I do know was that was the beginning of Fatal Intent.
Here is a short sample from the book:
She saw him floating headless through a mist of tears.
Even the river’s roar was not enough to mask her scream, as overhead the Borneo midday sun skidded a brilliant reflection across the river’s surface.
Garrett clapped her hand over her mouth and squinted against the bright sun. As if that would shift reality or change the fact that all that stood between Malcolm and anonymity was the San Diego Chargers logo on his torn, water-soaked T-shirt. Instead, tears washed her vision.
Malcolm’s smiling face—his smiling, missing face. She choked and her foot slipped, bringing her dangerously close to the riverbank, and the body.
Brush crackled and something screeched, the sound harsh and loud in a place where there was never silence. It would have sent chills through the uninitiated but it was only an insect, an oversize bug—an insect that might not be classified, identified. There were so many and that was what brought her here. But now her guide was dead, headless. That thought alone was preposterous even when the evidence lay in front of her. She wanted to weep. She wanted to run. But it was up to her to get her team out of here. She needed another focus before panic clouded everything.