Thursday, 18 February 2016

Forest Park by Valerie Davisson

The LOGAN series continues ...

Critical choices made in the drama and chaos of the last days of the Vietnam War reach across the Pacific to modern-day Portland, Oregon, threatening to destroy the lives of those who managed to cheat death in 1975. When a violent explosion takes a woman’s life just steps away from Logan McKenna’s downtown hotel, the police suspect all the wrong people, including a homeless vet and two of Logan’s new friends; but are any of them completely innocent?

While unraveling the tangle of half-truths and secrets to help her friends, Logan’s personal life suffers an explosion of its own. Each character must decide not only whom to trust, but at what cost.

In addition to writing a great story, in FOREST PARK: Logan Book 2, Davisson skillfully deals with tough questions about our attitude toward refugees, immigration, the homeless, and our military vets. Through the eyes of her original and complex characters, she invites us to explore the true nature of hope, redemption, family, character, and love.

... available as paperback and eBook Feb 18, 2016
For review copies, interviews, book giveaways etc... please email:

Excerpt #1
Friday, February 7, 2014
Valentine’s Day loomed.
It’s not that she wasn’t a romantic, but Logan hoped Ben
hadn’t planned anything. He’d been hinting, but she wasn’t
there yet. They weren’t there yet. Were they? It had only been a few
months. A great few months, but . . . she counted backward on her
fingers . . . six months. Was that a long time? She had no idea what
was considered long these days. Widowed for almost three years,
with a twenty-three-year old daughter, she’d been out of the dating
pool a long time.
Apparently, six months was a deadline of sorts.
“It’s time to seal the deal, girl,” Bonnie said.
— 2 —
Ben was great, a solid guy. And she really liked him. They’d
spent a lot of time together over the summer, and so far he passed
all the tests: played well with others, a hard worker, and he cooked,
a definite plus. In addition to all those virtues, he’d been patient in
the sex department, a rare attribute among Orange County males.
How well should she know him before she sealed the deal, as
Bonnie so bluntly put it?
Things were so different now. With Jack, she’d waited for the
ring. That’s what you did. She didn’t need a ring. She could take
care of herself. It wasn’t that.
She didn’t want to sleep with Ben until she was sure what
was developing between them was real. At times, Ben seemed
too good to be true. He’d given her no reason to doubt him, but
subconsciously she kept looking for flaws.
After all, she thought Jack was great when they married, and
he turned out to be not only unfaithful, but adept at lying about
it. Sure, she was older and wiser, but what if Ben showed his true
colors one day . . . she did not want to go through that pain again.

The Author

Born in the county hospital in French Camp, California, Valerie‘s childhood started out normally. Her father was becoming a CPA, her mother, a stay-at-home Mom. But within a few short years, the family, her mother 7-months pregnant, boarded a plane to Munich, Germany. They embarked on what was to become a life of travel, eventually living in Germany, Japan, Italy, and both coasts of America. It was the perfect childhood for an imaginative, curious, little girl.

Anticipating every new house, apartment and back yard, she always expected to find secret compartments or hidden passageways. The creek behind her home in Virginia led to many excursions rife with water moccasins and painted turtles, including one particularly dangerous encounter raiding the neighborhood boys’ tree house. The clearly marked “NO GIRLS ALLOWED!” seemed like an open invitation to her 12-year-old self.

A self-admitted book addict, Valerie was the kid with the flashlight under her pillow, reading in bed long after lights out. Her exposure to different cultures led to a pervasive interest in people, with degrees & teaching credentials in Cultural Anthropology & English.

Excerpt #2
Thursday, February 13, 2014
3:05 p.m.
Alaska Flight 421, nonstop, departing SNA at 8:34 a.m.,
arriving Portland at 10:49 a.m. . . . no bags . . . aisle
seat . . .”
Logan scanned the boarding pass she’d just printed,
making sure everything was correct. It was, so she detached the
advertisements, threw them away, and folded the pass into a flat
cross-body wallet on a thin strap made of some mystery material
that couldn’t be cut easily by slash-and-grab muggers. For easy
access at the security gate, it held her boarding pass and driver’s
license in the front pocket, money, lip gloss, credit card, and a small
folding brush in the larger space in back. Completely stuffed, the
whole thing didn’t weigh more than a few ounces. And she always
— 17 —
left room for a couple of caramels or dark-chocolate-covered
almonds, her snacks of choice.
Tucking it into a large messenger bag for now—she wasn’t
leaving until tomorrow morning—with the rest of the papers she
was taking and her new MacBook Air, she took one last glance
around the office. She wouldn’t be back for two weeks and realized
how much she’d grown to love her new digs.
The upstairs office space rose above the former garage, keeping
the same proportions—basically a taller rectangle. From the
outside, it wasn’t very impressive, but it met her needs. Stairs led
up from what was now the studio to the twelve-by-nineteenfoot
space. The wall you faced when you came up ran more or
less parallel to the hill at the back of her property. Since the view
in that direction was largely dirt and scrub brush and the large
window on the west-facing wall to the right brought in plenty of
light, there were no windows that looked out on that wall. Only
small ventilation windows ran across the top, near the ceiling. In
order to utilize every inch of space, Taylor and Ben put in a sturdy
floating wooden shelf desk about twenty inches deep that served as
a space to lay out works in progress. Ned and Sally commandeered
it as an ersatz desk and painted it bright red and mango yellow
with metallic gold triangles along the edge when they came in.
Somehow it worked.

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