By
Seelie Kay (Guest Blogger)
When
I was in my teens, I learned that a relative I had never known and in
fact, no one had ever talked about, was alive.
So
I began to ask questions. And I got no answers. Until one day,
someone let it slip that the man in question might be in a certain
town in Canada.
Then
I got busy. Because this was before the Internet and cheap
long-distance phone calls, I wrote a letter to the public library in
the town of his last known residence. Then I waited. And waited. And
waited.
Summer
came and I became an intern at the local newspaper. I had forgotten
about the letter. One day, my older sister showed up at work, bearing
a large manila envelope. She said breathlessly, “I got the mail and
grabbed this before anyone else saw it.”
I
quickly told my editor I was going to lunch and we walked to a local
park. After bologna and American cheese sandwiches, I opened the
envelope. It was stuffed full of news clippings. The librarian had
attached a note explaining that the relative had passed the prior
year, but she was sending information she thought would be of
interest.
I
pulled out the first article and read the headline. I must have paled
because my sister grabbed it out of my hand.
“Holy
cow,” she said. “He was a con man?”
I
retrieved the article from her hands and began to read. The relative
in question had founded a notorious religious cult and defrauded “his
flock” of millions of dollars. When a local newspaper exposed him
as a fraud, he skedaddled with those millions, leaving many people
homeless and destitute.
He
had called himself “The Living Christ,” a title his adoring fans
accepted without question. They worshipped at his feet. Gave
testimony to miracles witnessed. Catered to his every need. And, it
was suggested, sacrificed their daughters’ virginity for his
lessons in the sacred sexual arts.
I
was eighteen. I
had no training or experience to interpret or analyze this
information. So I went to my father. He showed it to my mother. Who
burned it.
It
was then I learned the whole story. This relative had not only
abandoned his family when the oldest of his children was four, he had
embarked on a life of crime. With nothing more than a sixth-grade
education and a childhood spent on a tenant farm, he had crafted and
successfully executed cons that brought him into contact with the
pillars of society—the rich, the famous, the delightfully
debauched. Highly intelligent, wickedly handsome, and sincerely
charming, he spun tales that left people entranced and enthralled.
With
each tale, sometimes posing as a minister, sometimes as a
practitioner of the psychological arts, he picked their pockets and
when discovery became imminent, skipped town, moving on to another
city filled with suckers who had more money than sense.
His
skill at his persuasion and his knowledge of all things religion led
him to establish his own church, one that grew to more than a
thousand members. He had no divinity
degree. No religious education. All he had was a silver tongue and
the ability to relieve people of their cash.
As
a journalist, I continually asked myself, “Why? Why did people fall
for his obvious crappola? Was it the times—after World War II, a
world weary of war and terrified by the emergence of the Iron
Curtain? Was it the need to fit in, be accepted by others? Or was it
the need to believe in something, anything, that barely resembled
common sense?”
Forty
years later, after extensive research and gaining access to
information so confidential it would not be released to the public
for many years, I still had no answers. Until someone said to me,
“Some people just go along to get along. Makes no sense, but it
does make them happy. And sometimes, that’s all that matters.”
And
that was the beginning of my latest
suspense novel, Cult.
Cult
Release
Date: May 17, 2019
Publisher:
Extasy Books
Romantic
Suspense, three flames
Blurb
It’s
supposed to be a simple assignment. A quick trip to a South American
country for an “in and out” fact-finding mission. Unfortunately,
the cult has other ideas.
When
college students begin disappearing from American campuses, a
notorious cult, God’s Delight, is the primary suspect. God’s
Delight has been hosting shows featuring sex, drugs, and rock and
roll around the country, and young people are flocking to them.
Among
the missing is the President’s goddaughter, and he wants answers.
When he asks Agent Cade Matthews, a member of a secret covert
organization, to find her, the mission appears fairly
straightforward. Find the God’s Delight compound, determine whether
a welfare check on American cult members is warranted, and get out.
Simple. Clean. Easy.
Cade
sends newly-married Agents Dianna Murphy and Anders Mark to the
University of Wisconsin to follow the trail to God’s Delight, but
when they wind up in Bolivia, things go sideways. Suddenly, what
appeared to be nothing more than a simple in-and-out
could cost Dianna her life. When an Agency extraction is ordered,
chaos erupts, and the question becomes, will anyone survive?
Excerpt
“But
everyone can leave when they want, right?”
Tillie
cocked her eyebrow, clearly amused. “Of course. But why would they?
This is paradise.”
“It
is indeed, darling Miranda,” drawled a deep sultry voice. A tall,
well-built man dressed in a white cassock,
a thick wooden cross draped around his neck, wrapped his arms around
her and kissed her cheek. His loose, long blonde hair framed a tan,
handsome face with a strong nose and a wicked, full-lipped grin. He
turned his piercing blue eyes toward Dianna and smiled. “Hello,”
he said.
The
man studied her, his expression predatory.
Dianna
shifted uncomfortably. So, Tillie is
using another name. Meaning she’s undercover. Noted.
Dianna stuck out her hand and said. “Hi, I’m Bennie. I’m one of
the students from Wisconsin working over at the orphanage. You were
kind enough to allow us to stay here.”
The
man took her hand and stroked it, his expression suddenly thoughtful.
“Tell me, Bennie from Wisconsin,
what do you think of my paradise?” His hand moved to her lower arm.
Dianna
flushed. My paradise? Is this Reverend
John? “It’s beautiful. Peaceful.
But hot. And humid. Really
humid.” She gazed up into the man’s eyes, somewhat stunned at the
lust she found there. My God, he looks
like he wants to devour me. Dianna
quickly looked away.
The
man chuckled. “You get used to it. But we keep the air-conditioning
on in the dormitories for the newbies and limit their time in the
sun. And of course, we all take a siesta during the hottest part of
the day if we need one.” He released her arm.
“We
worship at day’s end when the air begins to cool. Otherwise, things
get a little…sweaty.” He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek,
gently tugging her hair. Then he walked away. Dianna’s gaze did not
leave him as children followed him, playfully competing for his
attention. Just like Jesus.
Buy
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Coming
soon to all other major booksellers!
About
Seelie Kay
Seelie
Kay is a nom de plume for a writer, editor, and author with more than
30 years of experience in law, journalism, marketing, and public
relations. When she writes about love and lust in the legal world,
something kinky is bound to happen! In possession of a wicked pen
and an overly inquisitive mind, Ms. Kay is the author of multiple
works of fiction, including the Kinky
Briefs series, the Feisty
Lawyers series, The
Garage Dweller, A
Touchdown to Remember, The President’s Wife,
and The President’s Daughter.
When
not spinning her kinky tales, Ms. Kay ghostwrites nonfiction for
lawyers and other professionals. She resides
in a bucolic exurb outside Milwaukee, Wisconsin, where she shares a
home with her son and enjoys opera,
gourmet cooking, organic gardening, and an occasional bottle of red
wine.
Ms.
Kay is an MS warrior and ruthlessly battles the disease on a daily
basis. Her message to those diagnosed with MS: Never give up. You
define MS, it does not define you!
Author
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1 comment:
Thanks so much for featuring "Cult" today!
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