A delightful painted fire hydrant in Sullivan, MO.
I received a very nice message from a reader the other day, asking when the next book in The Route 66 Steal series is coming out. First of all, thank you for reading The Illinois Caper and your interest in reading more!
But I have to confess that I’m relatively new at this–The Illinois Caper is only my third novel, and it is the first in a series. Now, wiser writers would (and probably did) advise me against tackling a series so soon in my writing efforts, or at least attempt a series of fewer than eight books. But frankly, part of the reason I started writing fiction was that I wanted a challenge. I like painting myself into a corner and seeing if I can figure out how to get out of it.
Of course, what this means, is that sometimes it takes a while waiting for the paint to dry so I can get out of that corner.
The Curse of the second book in the series…
For years I’ve watched my friend, Devon Monk–superb writer of urban fantasy–create successful series. So I knew all about the (cue spooky music) “curse of the second book in the series.” My second book in The Route 66 Steal, The Missouri Run, has not been a disappointment in that department. It’s been a challenge to keep Kat and Tish on the road and the story moving without hitting too many detours or potholes.
However, fingers are crossed that I’ve solved that puzzle and that things will move on more quickly from here.
In the meantime, I invite you to try one of my other books.
There’s Trust Not the Heart, in which Cassie Franklin wrestles with her unruly heart as she fights to save her business by reinventing her work as a custom jeweler, all while fending off a devious realtor trying to take her store’s prime location.
In Dangerous Visions, Stacie Capella struggles with her unwanted family legacy of second sight which has, in the past, destroyed friendships and romances and threatens to do it again, yet is also warning her that the stalker tracking her is very dangerous and even deadly.
Both are available in eBook and trade paperback, online, via your neighborhood independent bookseller, and even, by request, at your public library!
Thank you again to all my readers for their patience and support. A final note to any of you interested in subscribing to my newsletter, as a thank you, you’ll get a free download of a short story, just for you. (Large heart emoji here.)
It was supposed to be a simple heist. But it became The Illinois Caper!
Tish O’Donnell and Kat Merevec just want a little payback when Tish’s philandering husband, Fitz, announces he’s leaving her and firing Kat. But their late-night heist gives the more than they bargained for. Now, in between some Mother Road sightseeing, they’re on the run from the police, a murderous fence, and a couple of Route 66 vintage car groupies who keep popping up everywhere.
Hitch a ride in the backseat of Tish’s 1957, yellow and white two-tone Buick convertible, as the two women negotiate the twists and turns of Route 66 while forging an uneasy partnership-in-crime.
Looking for a fast, light read to pack on your summer road trip?
The Illinois Caper is what you’re looking for!
The Illinois Caper is available NOW on Kindle, Nook, and Kobo readers, and at iBooks.
Prefer the sound of rustling pages? You can support your local independent bookseller by having them special order a copy for you. Or, online, buy from Bookshop.org where sales benefit independent bookstores. Amazon, too, offers a paper version.
Leave a comment below, and four lucky winners will get a free copy of The Illinois Caper, book one in the new series, The Route 66 Steal!
Hit the greatest Highway of them all: The Mother Road, Route 66!
Kat and Tish are two middle-aged women looking for a little payback. Now they’re on the road in their 1957 Buick convertible, the trunk loaded with hot diamonds, dubious cash, and glittering gold. They’re heading to a new life in California, but the question is, will they live long enough to get there!
Read an excerpt of The Illinois Caper:
The door hit the frame so hard it bounced back, slamming into the wall. The glass in their wedding photo shattered as it crashed to the floor.
Tish O’Donnell grabbed the rebounding door, slammed it again, and threw the deadbolt.
“Don’t come sniveling back, either!” she shouted at the still-shuddering wood.
He would of course. His name was on the mortgage.
And he’d bring her.
She spun around and caught a glimpse of herself in the hall mirror: pale skin blotched with anger, dark brown eyes blazing in a soft, round face. Her gray-shot red hair, piled high, was askew.
Like Rochester’s mad wife in Jane Eyre, she thought. She’d loved that book as a girl, but she’d always seen herself as strong, competent Jane, not this…this wild-eyed creature that stared at her from the mirror’s depths.
“Urrrgh!” she growled in rage. Her fists clenched with the urge to hit something.
Heedless of the crunching glass underfoot, Tish stormed back through the foyer toward the kitchen, kicking an enameled, cast-iron saucepan out of the way.
“Shit! Shoot!” she shouted, correcting quickly and hopping as pain shot up her foot. “I’ll kill you, you ba…”
She hesitated fractionally, but no word that would not result in penance suggested itself.
“You…schmuck!” she yelled at the walls. As if God didn’t understand Yiddish. She limped into the kitchen, turned a chair upright, sat down, and pulled off her shoe to massage her insulted toes.
Yiddish or not, it still meant more Hail Marys. Father Andrew didn’t allow cursing, even in a situation like this. He didn’t overlook it if it was in Yiddish, either. She’d tried that argument before.
The image of a divine frown couldn’t stop the stream of profanities going through her mind, though. God would just have to understand.
Fear of celestial disapproval wasn’t slowing Fitz down, she thought bitterly. Oh, no. It didn’t stop him from saying the “d” word.
Not after thirty-five years, she fumed, rubbing her stockinged foot. Not after thirty-five long, hard years, three kids, and constant humiliation. You’re not leaving me with nothing. Not now. Just because you think you’re “in love” with your current piece of…flesh.
“Not for that scheming…” The “b” word hovered on her lips, but the last hour had already given her too much to confess.
“…trollop,” was what she settled for.
Kat Merevec. With her tight ass and her big, pointy tits and her purple hair. It had to be her, though she’d always thought Kat was smarter than that. Though why Kat should be any different, Tish didn’t know. Fitz had screwed every store manager they’d had for the last thirty-five years.
Almost all. Ted had been the exception.
He’d slept with them all—and others besides.
But he’d never left her to marry any of them.
“You wait until her boobs head south, you miserable…loser!” she shouted at the door down the hall. “See how much you ‘love’ her then. See how much she ‘loves’ you when you’re broke and selling bead bracelets from a ratty blanket in Fountain Square. Because believe me, you two-timing mongrel, when I’m done with you, you’ll have to start over again. Fancy doing that at your age?”
It should have been my business, not his, she thought bitterly. But her father had given it to Fitz on their wedding day. Because Fitz was the man. Men had heads for business, he’d said, not girls.
Girls.
She’d been hurt. Outraged. Furious. Her father, chuckling, had just patted her on the cheek and left it to Fitz to sooth and assure her.
“It’s ours, sweetie. Together. It’s our business.” Or home. Or retirement. It was always “ours.”
Except, of course, that everything was in his name.
Even their cars were in his name.
Except, of course, for that gas hog, the only thing her father had given her. Fitz had started saying it reminded him of her. “It’s got a front end and back end as big as yours,” he’d laugh. When she’d glower, he’d just pat her bottom and say, “Honey, I’m teasing. You know I love all of you.”
Har. Har.
Yet despite it all, despite the loss of the business, despite the cheating Fitz had done over the years, she’d stuck it out. She’d believed him when he said it was all theirs. She’d needed to believe him, because without belief, she had nothing.
But Tish didn’t believe any more.
Her mind began ticking over as her white-hot anger cooled to cherry red.
When I’m done with you, she thought.
Who was she kidding? How could she hurt him?
She’d get screwed in a divorce. She knew it. All her friends had gotten screwed. Why should she be any different?
The first time Tish had discovered Fitz’s infidelity, they’d only been married a few months. Tish hadn’t even turned twenty. Her mother had shrugged it off. All men ran around, she said. Tish was married. Make the best of it.
The priest said divorce wasn’t possible. Marriage was forever. He’d speak to Fitz. Think of the children to come.
So, Tish thought of the children, and she made the best of it. She worked in the store that should have been hers. Closed her eyes when Fitz cheated.
Eventually she convinced herself that other women were nuts for leaving when their husbands had affairs. Everyone knew that women lived longer than men. It would all be yours if you just waited them out.
That thought, and making herself a very expensive piece of jewelry every time Fitz found a ‘new love,’ had helped ease the pain.
But now…this.
Not on your pitiful, useless life, Fitzpatrick O’Donnell. You are not divorcing Mary Patrice Geraghty Ryan.
Not without a fight.
When I’m done with you, she thought again.
And paused…as a terrible idea crossed her mind.
A terrible, beautiful, brilliant idea.
Tish’s lips curled in a smile that would have scared Fitz’s socks off if he’d been there to see it.
She stood up, shoved her throbbing foot back into her shoe, grabbed her keys and purse, and headed for the garage.
When I’m done with you, she thought with relish, you can have the damned house and the damned store.
While it’s taken longer than planned–blame the broken wrist!–in The Illinois Caper, book one of The Route 66 Steal, Kat and Tish are finally on the Mother Road, Route 66, and heading to California.
In The Illinois Caper, Kat Merevec and Tish O’Donell, “middle aged and mostly respectable,” steal a fortune, fight over underwear, dust off talents long-forgotten, learn just how fast they can cover a half mile on foot, and forge a tentative friendship.
Back in Evanston, ratfink Fitz O’Donell is trying to get himself out of the mess he’s made–and only digging in deeper.
How will this all work out?
The Illinois Caper is available NOW on Kindle, Nook, and Kobo readers, and at iBooks.
Prefer the sound of rustling pages? You can support your local independent bookseller by having them special order a copy for you. Or, online, buy from Bookshop.org where sales benefit independent bookstores. Amazon, too, offers a paper version.
For years I’ve watched my friend, Devon Monk–superb writer of urban fantasy–create successful series. So I knew all about the (cue spooky music) “curse of the second book in the series.” My second book in The Route 66 Steal, The Missouri Run, has not been a disappointment in that department. It’s been a challenge to keep Kat and Tish on the road and the story moving without hitting too many detours or potholes. 
