Blog Tour: Over Her Head by Shelley Bates

over-her-head0_.jpgLaurie Hale has the perfect life–and the perfect family to go with it–until her teenage daughter is accused of murder, and the life Laurie knows disappears. Laurie Hale imagined fun, love, and success for her daughter, Anna. But when one of Anna’s classmates is murdered and the police start asking questions, a very different future threatens everything Laurie values. Anna isn’t the only suspect–a whole group of teenagers seems to be involved, but none of them is talking, and the community is in an uproar. Laurie’s marriage bears the strain of the crisis, and her only ally is Janice, a wealthy woman from the church whose son can exonerate Anna–or implicate her. Laurie must face her fears: What if Anna really was involved in Randi’s murder? And what kind of person is Laurie if she can doubt her own child’s innocence?

Shelley has an M.A. in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University in Pennsylvania. Grounds to Believe, her debut novel, won the 2005 RITA Award for Best Inspirational from the Romance Writers of America.

Following the release of her fourth Christian women’s fiction novel, Over Her Head, Shelley will be launching “All About Us,” a series of teen chick lit novels for Christian girls. Between books, Shelley enjoys playing the piano and Celtic harp, making historical costumes, and spoiling her flock of rescue chickens rotten.

Whether typing search warrants and making undercover phone calls as an admin for the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, or editing marketing material for the high-tech industry in Silicon Valley, Shelley Bates has found that everyone has a story. Most people have stopped telling her theirs in case she puts them in her books.

Excerpt from Chapter One:

Even in November, when the trees were bare and skeletal and the ground wet, the jogging trail by the river was still Laurie Hale’s favorite place to run. Not that she was wild about jogging, mind you. But something had to be done about this flabby stomach and wobbly thighs, because she was simply not going into a size sixteen on her next trip to the mall, and that was that.

There are barriers in every woman’s life beyond which she will not go, and a size sixteen was one of them.

Besides, jogging got her out of the house. Going to Curves would do the same, but she’d still be in a gym with people she knew from church and Anna’s and Tim’s schools. What Laurie liked best about running by the river was simply that she was alone.

When you had a ten-year-old son and a fourteen-year-old daughter, who could blame you for taking extreme measures and resorting to jogging in order to get a little peace and quiet?

So what if her sweats were a shrunken pair of Colin’s and her shoes were from the local discount store? No one was out here at seven on a winter morning. The executive types had already been and gone, taking the commuter train from the little station in Glendale into Pittsburgh and leaving the trails to the winter birds, squirrels, and slightly chunky moms.

Laurie’s legs were beginning to ache, though, at the end of her mile. She wasn’t much of a goal setter, but if she had to set one, it would be getting back to the bridge without feeling as though she was going to keel over and die of oxygen deprivation. The halfway point where she turned around was about here, where the Susquanny River widened a little and a sandbar had built up in it. Often the herons would gather here to pick over what the river had tossed up, or to spear minnows on their way past in the shallows. In the summer, the kids had loved to play here. Someone had tied a rope swing into a tree, and they’d drop off it into the deep pools close to the bank. But now the swing was as frozen and lifeless as the tree that supported it, waiting for the sun and the return of the children.

There must have been some high water recently. A log had washed up on the sandbar, and crows were walking around it like car salesmen sizing up a new deal. There were clothes draped over it, too. Good grief. Surely someone hadn’t been swimming? It had to be forty-five degrees out here.

Laurie jogged a little closer, taking one of the offshoot trails closer to the bank. Maybe it wasn’t a log, after all. Maybe someone had tossed a bag of old clothes off the bridge instead of taking them to the Salvation Army like normal people. But weren’t there branches sticking out? And was that an animal trapped under it? With brown furThe river trail, though beautiful and scenic, didn’t change much. That was why Laurie liked it. She didn’t have to watch out for hazards because she knew where they all were, and she could pay attention to seasonal changes in the scenery without worrying about falling flat on her face.

So anything different meant a little investigation was in order. Maybe there would be identifying marks among the clothes to tell her who the litterbug was. And then she’d march down to the Glendale police station and wake up one of the- Good heavens.

Laurie slid down the bank and landed upright by sheer luck. She squinted against the sparkle of the sun on the water and focused on the pile on the sandbar.

Not fur. Hair. Dark brown, short-cropped hair, drying and rimed with sand.

A green jacket. Jeans.

Bare feet. Slender, pale feet, so cold they were gray.

Laurie let out her breath with a whoosh and then couldn’t get it back again. Her lungs and heart felt as though they were being squeezed tight with sheer horror.

“Oh, no. No.” Crablike, she scrambled sideways up the bank, her gaze fixed on the sandbar. “It can’t be.”

Maybe it wasn’t. Mabye the life hadn’t yet left that pitiful damp body on the sand. Maybe there was something she could do.

She yanked her cell phone out of her purse and dialed 911.

If you’ve made it this far then you probably want to know what happens next. Here’s your chance to find out. I will be drawing a name for this book, but you’ll have to wait until I finish it! I’m on vacation right now, so leave a comment telling me you want this book! If you can’t stand to wait, just visit Shelley Bates’ website and buy your own copy!

Gina Conroy

Gina Conroy

From the day I received my first diary in the second grade, I've had a passion expressing myself through writing. Later as a journalist and novelist, I realized words, if used powerfully, have the ability to touch, stir, and reach from the depths of one soul to another. Today as a writing and health coach, I inspire others to live their extraordinary life and encourage them to share their unique stories. For daily inspiration follow me on https://www.facebook.com/gina.conroy and check out my books here https://amzn.to/3lUx9Pi