As a Colorado native it is always a pleasure to introduce my readers to other Colorado authors. Please welcome Meira Pentermann
On slow, snowy days in her Colorado home, Meira Pentermann enjoys cozying up on the couch with a novel. Naturally, snow is not a requirement; neither is the couch. In fact, she sees no reason not to indulge in reading three-hundred-and-sixty-five days a year. Apocalyptic science fiction, mysteries, and young adult titles top her Kindle list, but legal thrillers and chik-lit make an appearance now and then.
When not absorbed in writing or reading, Meira enjoys life’s little moments with her family – the love and devotion of her black lab, the quiet wisdom of her artistic twenty-one-year-old, the trials and triumphs of her petite sixth grader, and the unlimited encouragement offered by her Dutch husband.
Meira strives to write stories that deliver the unexpected. She prefers down-to-earth characters that look and behave like regular folks. The prom queen and Adonis take a backseat to reclusive, soul-searching heroines and quirky, introverted gentlemen.
Please connect with Meira through the following links
Links to Buy Firefly Beach
When Beth LaMonte rents a cottage on the coast of Maine, she wishes only to withdraw and paint. A mysterious ball of light disturbs her peace and leads her to a secret beach where she finds the diary of a girl who disappeared in 1975. Now Beth is on a mission, not only to bury her own past, but to put to rest the spirit of Firefly Beach.
Later that evening, an exhausted Beth took a long, hot shower. She pulled on her pajamas and prepared to get into bed. As she passed her window, she saw a shimmer of light near the cliff. The firefly.
Beth’s stomach turned over. “Oh no you don’t,” she said, trying to sound courageous.
Grateful that she had not yet taken down the old curtains for a trip to the cleaners, she quickly crossed the room to pull them shut. As she reached up to grab the left curtain, the firefly flew swiftly toward her and stopped less than a foot from the window. Beth’s hand froze. She was terrified, yet fascinated.
“What are you?” she whispered.
As if in response, the firefly swooped and danced. After a moment, it began to repeat a pattern – up to the window slowly, followed by a swift lunge down toward the large boulder near the edge of the forest. Over and over again it dove, as if beckoning Beth.
“No!” Beth said firmly, and she drew the curtains closed violently. Unfortunately, they were several inches too short to cover the windows. “Damn.” Beth shivered as a deep chill went through her body. She grabbed her large blue sweatshirt and climbed into bed, leaving her three-way bedside lamp on its lowest setting of twenty-five watts. For a long time, she stared at the ceiling. She pulled the comforter way up to her chin and grasped it like a security blanket. She glanced at the clock every now and again – 11:16 p.m., 12:01 a.m., 12:48 a.m., and 1:19 a.m. Sometime between 1:30 and 2:00, she fell asleep.
She was beset by disturbing dreams; rapid firing images flashed before her eyes – a car screeching down a country road, a yellow duck, her father’s face. She awoke with a start. Why am I dreaming about my father after all of these years?
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