I love getting to know the authors behind the books I read. Today I'm excited to have Cami Checketts, a great author and friend of mine. Cami is the author of several novels including The Sister Pact and Dead Running.
So, welcome Cami!
First off, embarrassing moment. Go.
Okay, I can't believe I'm sharing this, but in my book Dead Running the heroine loses control of her bladder because she pushes so hard in a race. I found the inspiration for that little scene through a personal experience. Luckily I was in the mountains and there was a creek nearby!
lol! It is so fun to hear about the inspiration behind certain scenes (especially funny ones like this)! Cami, what are you most passionate about, other than writing?
Strength training for women. I truly believe strength training
will keep you fit for life and many women are afraid of it.
Oh no, don't make me feel guilty. I have a feeling this post is going to add some motivation to my run (and weight lifting, ahem) tomorrow morning. :)
Why did you begin writing?
I struggled with postpartum depression after my second baby was
born. My mom found me napping (once again), yanked me out of bed, and said,
"Camille, you go downstairs and write a novel." I shrugged and
trudged down to my office. I haven't had time for a nap since!
Wow, that's incredible. Is anything else in your books based on real life experience (like your embarrassing moment above) or purely
all imagination?
All my books originate from nightmares. Not sure if that's
considered real life but it feels like it to me! I also use a lot of real life
experience for inspiration but I spend most of my life living in la-la land (my
boys' term) dreaming up scenes for my latest novel.
Mmm, I love la-la land. That's a great term for it! Do you write with an outline or just see where the story goes?
I am horrible at plotting. I get my opening scene through a
nightmare and then the story just spills out when I'm on a run or cleaning
toilets. I end up revising dozens of times because of how rambling I am when I
write. Maybe someday I'll figure it out but it's so fun for me to just
experience the story along with the characters.
Well then, whenever you get writers block just let me know and I'll start wishing the nightmares your way! :) Last of all, tell us about your all-time favorite character (of your own
creation).
Jesse (Dr. Tattoo). He is so interesting to me, I loved
discovering his past and love his interactions with Cassidy. It's been really
fun writing the sequel to Dead Running and hanging out with those two again.
A sequel! Hooray! That's exciting, Cami! And ditto on Dr. Tattoo. Thank you, Cami, for taking the time to answer these questions!
For more about Cami, visit her:
And please leave a comment below; I love hearing from readers! The jacket blurb of Dead Running as well as the first chapter are pasted below to whet your appetite. :) Thanks for stopping by!
Dead Running:
Cassidy Christensen is running.
Running from the mercenaries who killed her parents.
Running from a scheming redhead intent on making her life miserable.
Running from painful memories that sabotage her dreams of happiness.
With two very tempting men competing for her attention, she hopes she'll
finally have someone to run to, but can she trust either of them? When secrets
from her past threaten her family, Cassidy decides to stop running and fight
for her future.
First chapter of Dead Running:
I inched down another stair, hoping the soft creaks wouldn’t give
me away to whoever was arguing in my living room. My dad was visiting me this
week, gathering medical supplies for another one of his projects. I’d been
gracious and allowed him to host his meetings in my living room. The support
from the medical community in our little corner of Northern Utah was actually
impressive, but did one of the doctors have to show up in the middle of the
night?
I was in that luscious almost-asleep phase when I heard the
banging on my front door and crawled out of bed. Irritation turned to fear as I
listened to the conversation. The man threatening Dad wasn’t one of his
supporters.
“You interfered with the wrong shipment this time.”
“Shipment?” Dad asked. “These are human beings, not some
profit margin.”
I reached the bottom step and peeked around the wall. My dad stood
near the fireplace with a mixture of shock and revulsion on his sunburned face.
Just inside the front door, a man peeked out from the shadow of a
hooded sweatshirt. He yanked out a wicked-looking blade. I covered my mouth to
stifle the scream. My stomach knotted. My legs felt like ice. I didn’t know if
I could move, let alone help.
The knife sailed through the air. My father darted to the side.
The blade jabbed into his upper arm. Dad yelped. The pain in his face lodged in
my own gut. He grabbed at his arm and yanked the knife out, spraying the wall
with blood. My dad’s blood. Help. I had to do something.
The hooded figure closed the distance and wrenched the weapon from
dad’s fingers, lifting it above his head.
“No!” I leapt from my hiding spot, grabbed a heavy picture frame
off the end table, and smacked the man with it.
“Cassidy!” Dad inhaled quickly, hazel eyes widening.
The attacker knocked the picture frame out of my hands and pointed
the bloody knife my direction. Dark eyes swept over the skin not covered by my
t-shirt and cut-off sweats. I squirmed, his look scaring me as much as his
knife. I backed up a step, eyes focused on the blade.
My dad planted himself between me and the man.
The man’s white teeth flashed against leathery skin. “She’s
beautiful, Doc.” His tongue darted across his lower lip. “The dark hair and
pretty brown eyes. Looks just like her mom.”
Dad held up his uninjured arm and shoved me behind him, his breath
coming in ragged gulps. “Leave her out of this, Panetti.”
Panetti cocked his head to the side. “I’m supposed to kill
you, but I could bring her in alive for some extra compensation. How old are
you, sweetheart?”
I glared at him over my dad’s shoulder. “Twenty-one and going
nowhere with you. Get out of my house before I call the police.” It was a lame
threat since I was visibly shaking and had no clue where my phone was.
The man threw back his head and laughed. “I like her, a bit of
attitude. Ramirez and I will both enjoy her.”
I swallowed the sickening taste of his threat. Sweat trickled down
my spine. I clung to my injured dad, who was currently no match for this
psycho. How could I protect either of us?
“You’ll never touch her.” Dad pushed me toward the kitchen
doorway. “I can’t believe you would betray the children for Ramirez.”
“Not for Ramirez. I betrayed the children for lots and lots of
money.” Panetti revealed his perfect teeth again.
Dad looked back at me. “Run,” he whispered.
I swallowed, trying to catch my breath. No matter how scared I was
I couldn’t leave him.
“Run, Cassie!” He shoved me and faced the madman.
Panetti let out a warrior cry and lunged with the knife. Dad
ducked. The blade sliced air instead of flesh, throwing Panetti off balance.
Dad plowed into the man’s abdomen, knocking him into the front door. I
screamed, running towards them to try to help.
“Get out of here,” Dad yelled.
Stumbling away from the fight, I slammed into the wall. A yell of
pain from my dad forced me to keep moving. I ran into the kitchen and nearly
collapsed with relief when I saw my phone. Placing all my hopes and prayers on
three numbers, I stilled my trembling hands enough to dial: 9-1-1.
The call connected. “A guy is trying to kill my dad!” Grunts and
the sound of bodies slamming into furniture reassured me Dad was still alive. I
told the dispatcher my address, but then she started asking more questions.
“I’ve got to help my dad.”
“Officers are en route.”
“Good!” I clung to the phone but stopped listening as I sprinted
back into the living room. Dad was on top of Panetti. The knife was on the
floor, Panetti reaching for it. I covered the last couple of feet, kicked the
knife farther away, and stomped on his hand with my bare foot. Pain radiated up
through my leg but I heard a crunch that hopefully meant I did some damage. How
awful that I really wanted to hurt him.
I held up my phone. “The police will be here any second.”
Dad strained to keep Panetti pinned. “Go back to the kitchen.”
“I am not going to the kitchen while you fight
for your life.”
“Cassidy,” Dad groaned. “For once in your life listen to me.”
Panetti shoved Dad off of him. Dad banged his injured arm against
the sofa, blood mingling with the leather finish as he yelped in pain. Panetti
leaped to his feet, pushed me out of the way, and ran for the front door. Dad
struggled to stand up. I regained my footing and hurried after Panetti, but Dad
grabbed my arm before I got outside, allowing Panetti to disappear into the
darkness.
“We should go after him,” I said.
“Not tonight.” Dad shut the front door and slid to the floor,
clutching his bleeding arm. “I’ll find him.” The sheer determination in his eyes
made me glad I wasn’t Panetti.
“That guy wasn’t one of your Mexican orphanage supporters.”
Dad laughed, patting the floor next to him.
I clenched my hands together to stop the shaking. A few more deep
breaths and I might feel like I wasn’t going to pass out. “You need something
for the blood.”
He reached up a hand to me. “I’ll be okay. It’s you I’m worried
about.” I sank next to him and threw my arms around his neck. My entire body
was trembling now. Dad patted my back and whispered that I was safe. It was
exactly what I needed to hear, but still had a hard time believing. Several
minutes later I could hear sirens approaching the house. I wiped at my nose and
bit my lip to hold back more tears. “Someday you’re going to tell me what that
was all about.”
Dad shook his head. “Hopefully you’ll never know.”
