Greetings from Yorktown, Virginia, right off the Chesapeake Bay, where the newly-minted United States won the decisive battle of the Revolutionary War. I’m here aboard our catamaran sailboat, Prelude, and my husband, my dog Sirius, and I will be spending the summer sailing around the bay and exploring.

My husband and I live aboard our catamaran and all our belongings other than those on our boat are in a storage unit in North Carolina, where we used to live and work. Covid has certainly changed the way we cruise, in that we don’t meet as many people as we did pre-lockdown, but we’re enjoying our time on the water and visiting those places that have reopened.

Last month we spent several weeks in one my favorite North Carolina cities, Wilmington. Situated on the Cape Fear River, not far from the Atlantic Ocean, it’s a young and vibrant small city with tons of great restaurants, funky stores, and amazing old homes. Wilmington is a medium-sized city that feels like a small town, and it’s also the setting of my new Coastal Carolina series of gay romances about the men who live and work in the area.

The first thing you notice when you sail into Wilmington on the Cape Fear River is the Port of Wilmington, located

just south of the city. Nearly every day, huge container ships make their way up the river and are unloaded and reloaded using giant cranes at the docks there. Those enormous boats aren’t sailed in by their captains (called “masters” in the shipping business)—they are guided in by river pilots who meet them out in the ocean a few miles offshore.

Wilmington was hit pretty badly in Hurricane Florence, a few years back. In fact, our sailboat sustained minor water damage while slipped at a Wilmington marina. At one point following the hurricane, the entire city was cut off by water, making it an island. In the weeks following the storm, debris piled up outside homes as residents cleaned up. Weeks after the storm passed through, there were still huge trees and other detritus floating in the Cape Fear River, making navigation hazardous. The river smelled like wet cardboard for nearly a month afterward.

We visited with friends while we were in town, taking some day sails to visit the nearby rivers and small islands. On our way, we saw shrimpers and container ships, along with small sport-fishing boats. The river seemed quieter than before the pandemic, but there were still families out enjoying the sunshine and the water. Restaurants in town were serving outdoors, and the first inside dining began a few days before we left for Virginia. Bob and I even stopped in a few stores and bought a few items, including cool face masks made in Tanzania, which look a lot better than the surgical masks we’d been wearing.

I hope someday to settle in Wilmington, once Bob and I are done exploring on our boat. I look forward to going backto North Carolina soon and enjoying what Bob and I think is of the most beautiful coastal regions of the eastern United States. Until then, I’ll be writing more stories set in the Wilmington area.

If you’re interested in checking those stories out, you can find them on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and any other ebook outlets. The links are below. You can read an excerpt from the brand-new series book, Chasing the Story, which is set a month or so after Hurricane Florence. Happy reading! -Shira

Blurb:

A Coastal Carolina Novel

When TV reporter Brand Josephson attends an industry awards dinner in Charlotte, North Carolina, the last person he expects to bump into is the man he’s idolized since he was a high school student. Back then, Zach Caldwell was a New York City anchor riding terrific ratings to a prized spot on the national news. But when Zach disappeared before taking the job, he left many people, including Brand, wondering what happened.

 

Since leaving New York for North Carolina four years before, Zach’s kept to himself and avoided relationships. He tells himself he’s happy with his reclusive life as editor of the local Wilmington newspaper, but when he and Brand end up chasing the same story of industry corruption, Brand’s romantic charm and all-around good nature sneak past his defenses and into his heart. Brand’s discovery of the scandal behind Zach’s hasty exit from broadcast television puts their newly fledged relationship to the test, but the story they’re working on together puts their lives on the line….

Buy Links:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Chasing-Story-Coastal-Carolina-Book-ebook/dp/B085G2DL7B

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/chasing-the-story-shira-anthony/1136188940?ean=9781644057230

ITunes: https://books.apple.com/us/book/chasing-the-story/id1496826227

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/chasing-the-story-1

Dreamspinner Press: https://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/books/chasing-the-story-by-shira-anthony-11647-b

 

Excerpt:

BRAND YAWNED and rubbed his eyes before replaying his phone messages—twice—to be sure he’d written the numbers down correctly. So much for hoping a good sweat would help him focus on something other than Zach turning him down, or the possibility that Zach might reconsider.

He tapped his pen on the table and sipped his second cup of coffee. Most of the messages were from coworkers, including his director reminding him of a morning meeting. The last was from a woman named Tessa Gordon who wanted the station to look into the collapse of her Wrightsville Beach home during Hurricane Florence.

“Oh, hello. My name is Tessa Gordon. I don’t know if this is the right number to leave a message about a story… I mean a possible story… I don’t know what you’d call it, but it’s about my house. My husband and I have—had—a place in the Summer Shoals neighborhood near Wrightsville Beach. We’re retired, and we went to my daughter Caroline’s house during the storm. When we got back—” She sobbed openly now. “—it was gone. All of it. And it wasn’t even a year old. It’s not right. I know the storm was terrible, but—”

The recording cut off, but she called back. “This is Tessa Gordon again. I’m sorry I went on so long. Please tell me you’ll look into what happened.” She left a callback number.

He’d gotten at least a dozen calls like this asking him to look into why it was taking so long to get power restored, how cell phone service was still spotty in some areas, and how the debris piles around town were starting to smell. With a storm like Florence, houses crumbled, trees toppled, and utilities took forever to repair the damage, even with state and local officials putting in overtime. Still, the story might make a good addition to his hurricane follow-up series.

He jotted Tessa Gordon’s name and number in his notebook, refilled his coffee, then pulled up a map of Wrightsville Beach and located Summer Shoals. Close to the ocean, the development featured a mix of midrange and upper-range housing starting at $600,000. Typical raised construction to allow for flooding. Lots of bells and whistles, including hurricane upgrades. From what Brand could tell, the development was fully built.

He’d give her a call once he finished a few more things, then head out to Wrightsville.

“What’s up with you?” Brand’s director, Kendra, peered into his office ten minutes later.

“Nothing.” He scrolled through the copy for the story about reuniting lost pets with their owners he was supposed to be working on.

She shook her head and tapped her watch. “We were supposed to meet twenty minutes ago. My office?”

“Shit. I forgot.” Ever since Zach turned him down for dinner, he’d been spinning his wheels.

“No kidding.” She smiled. “Hot new story?”

“Could be.” And then there was Zach. But he wasn’t going to tell her about him. Not yet, at least. “Home in Wrightsville demolished in the storm.”

“That’s news?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. The hurricanes did a lot of damage, but we haven’t gotten a lot of reports of homes totally destroyed.” It might be a dud, but the story would give him something to keep his mind off Zach. “I’ll check it out this afternoon.”

“I’ll reschedule our weekly.” She tilted her head to one side and squinted at him. “You seem a little off. Need to talk?”

She knew him too well. “Maybe another time. Thanks.” Maybe he’d tell her over drinks at Craven’s Pub later in the week.

“Sure thing.” She smiled and added, “Let me know what you turn up on the home thing.”

“Will do.”

He turned back to his computer screen and reread the pet story a few more times before picking up the phone and dialing Tessa Gordon’s number. She answered right away.

“Ms. Gordon? This is Brand Josephson from WCBN. I’m returning your call.”

“Oh. Oh, Mr. Josephson, thank you so much,” she answered, clearly flustered. “I wasn’t sure… I mean, I didn’t know if…. Well, you’ve called me back. Thank you.”

He smiled. Even if there was probably nothing he could do to help, he understood how upset she must be. “It’s fine. Really. Happy to do it.”

“Are you going to investigate?”

“How about you tell me a little more about the situation. What makes you think there’s something more to what happened to your home?” he asked.

“John—that’s my husband—he says I’m crazy,” she said with a nervous laugh. “I mean, it was a terrible storm, and there were a lot of houses damaged. And insurance will cover most of the cost to rebuild, but— Oh, I’m going on again, aren’t I?”

“It’s okay. Let’s start from the beginning. You said the house was pretty new?”

“That’s right. They finished construction around Christmas last year. My husband and I retired from our jobs in Charlotte and moved to Carolina Beach. This was our dream home.”

Brand scribbled a few notes. “Who was the builder? Is it part of a bigger development?”

“Euclid Builders,” she replied. “They do larger developments, but this was on a plot of land we’d bought a few years back. I don’t know if they built any of the other homes at Summer Shoals.”

“Thanks. That’s helpful.” But not much go on either. “So tell me what happened during the storm—Hurricane Florence? Or was it Michael?”

“Florence.” She sniffled. “Excuse me. It’s just so hard to talk about it….”

“It’s okay. Take your time.”

“John and I went to my daughter’s during the storm. She lives in Greenville, so we figured that was safer.”

“Sure.” More than half the county had left in the face of Hurricane Florence.

“When we finally made it back, we expected there’d be some damage.” Her voice broke as she continued. “But… oh, I can still see it now… there was… nothing. Absolutely nothing except a pile of wood and siding and…. It was horrible.”

Now that surprised him. He figured she might have exaggerated in the message, since very few homes sustained that kind of catastrophic damage in Hurricane Florence. “Was there flooding in the area?”

“Flooding? No. It’s a few rows back from the beach.”

“What about other houses in the area?” he asked.

“The other houses were fine… at least mostly. A few lost shingles, and there were some where the siding blew off. Some water damage where windows leaked. That sort of thing.”

That bit of information was also unusual. Other houses in the same neighborhood took only a little bit of damage, and her house was completely destroyed? “And you said your builder—Euclid, was it?—didn’t build any of the other homes in the development?”

“That’s right. Best I know, we’re the only one they built.”

Probably a coincidence. He scribbled a note to remind himself to double-check about the builder. Most developments in the area were single-builder projects.

“I know the storm was terrible,” she said when he didn’t immediately respond. “But we paid extra to have the house built to withstand hurricanes.”

“You did?”

“Yes. The man who spoke to us from the builder—Van was his name, I think—he told us that it would be worth the extra money to upgrade the construction. He guaranteed us it would still be standing, even if most of the homes in our area were damaged or worse. We… we believed… we thought… it’s probably stupid, but we thought the extra money would keep the house safe.”

A reputable builder wouldn’t guarantee a reinforced home would make it through a hurricane. No one could be absolutely sure. Brand had looked into it himself when he’d first moved to North Carolina.

“How much extra did you pay for this upgrade?”

“I don’t remember. Maybe an extra fifty thousand dollars or so? I could look through the paperwork, if you’d like.”

“No problem. Can you email me copies of the paperwork you have from the builder? Contracts, any communications, letters, that sort of thing?” Brand asked.

“Yes, of course. Does that mean you’ll take the case—I mean look into it?”

“Ms. Gordon,” he said gently, “I’m not a detective. Even if I look into this for you, it won’t necessarily help you the way you might want it to.”

“I know, I know,” she said. “But it’s not right. It shouldn’t have happened. They promised me….” She blew her nose, and Brand pulled the receiver away from his ear.

“Have you called the builder about the guarantee?” he asked.

“We tried, but the number’s been disconnected. The website’s still up, but I don’t think it’s been updated in a least a few months. We even sent them a letter, but it came back in the mail.”

Scammers didn’t tend to stick around. “I’d like to see the house,” he said. “When you have time, of course.”

“Any time. We’re staying at a hotel not too far from the house. I didn’t want to impose on my daughter.” She sniffled again.

“Can you meet me there this afternoon?”

“I… I have someone else who’s supposed to stop by this afternoon.” She hesitated. “But I’m sure that’s fine.”

“I can come tomorrow if it’s better for you.” Brand tapped his pen on the pad and waited.

“I…. No. It’ll be fine today. I don’t want to put this off any more.”

“Two sound good?” he asked.

“That would be wonderful. I can’t thank you enough.” She sighed. “I’ll get those papers to you as soon as I can.”

“Great. See you then.”

“Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome.” Brand hung up and glanced over his notes.

He typed Euclid Builders into the browser and scanned the search results, then clicked on the link that looked like the company’s webpage.

Euclid Builders. We’d like to welcome you home.

“Lovely.” Brand clicked on the Contact Us link and sent a quick email asking for more information. A minute later a bounce-back popped up. He’d expected it. He picked up the phone and called the number on the screen, but got a message that the number had been disconnected.

“Okay. Let’s see if we can figure out who you are.” He navigated to the North Carolina Secretary of State’s corporations search page and typed Euclid into the box. The company name popped up, as expected. Just because they were no longer operating didn’t mean there wasn’t a record.

The corporation had not only been dissolved, they were also suspended for failing to pay their taxes. The few documents available on the website didn’t reveal much. Euclid Builders had been incorporated two years before by an F. Donald Vezey. Brand googled Vezey and found a record for a Frank Donald Vezey that turned up an obituary three years before Vezey had supposedly filed the paperwork. One other name popped up in Euclid’s online file: Bradley Haynes of the Haynes Law Firm. Haynes appeared to be alive and well, but Brand doubted he’d be any more talkative than the dead guy.

A dead end. But given the number of reprimands and censures on Bradley Haynes’s state bar record, this was looking more and more like a scam. People like Tessa were vulnerable. Putting your life’s savings into a house at the Carolina Coast meant you worried a lot about storm damage. Paying an extra fifty grand to guarantee that dream….

Brand shot a quick email to the North Carolina Licensing Board for General Contractors, asking for any complaints against Euclid Builders or any similar construction companies in the past five years within a hundred-mile radius of Wrightsville Beach. It would take a while to get a response on the Public Records Act request, but hopefully it’d turn up something. This was going to take some work.

 

 

“MR. CALDWELL, thank you so much for meeting me.” Tessa Gordon was younger than Zach expected, probably late fifties. Trim, with perfectly coiffed dyed blond hair, and dressed in a pair of bright green cropped pants with a matching shirt and floral blazer. Friendly, intelligent eyes. He guessed she’d been a teacher, something she confirmed for him a few minutes later when she once again recounted the story of how she and her husband had retired.

Zach shook Tessa’s hand and met her gaze with a sympathetic smile. Dark rings were visible under her suntanned skin. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen an expression like hers—Hurricane Florence had taken its toll on the Wilmington area and even more so on its people.

He’d arrived in Wrightsville earlier than planned and driven around the development. Most of the houses looked pretty good, other than the ubiquitous blue tarps that covered nearly a third of the roofs. The neighborhood was upscale. The waterfront lots probably listed at over a million apiece, with most of the value in the land. Tessa’s house might still have cost upward of a million, since it was located only four rows back.

“We were lucky enough to retire earlier than most,” she explained as they walked down the street. “I started with Charlotte-Mecklenburg Schools right out of college, so I had my thirty years in. John sold the advertising firm he started. We bought the land years ago, but we only built the house recently.”

She pointed to the circular dead end and a stand of trees. “It’s over there.”

The trees on the lot were all intact, but behind them was a pile of rubble that once was Tessa’s house. They stepped over debris in the driveway to get to the front walkway.

“I’m sorry it’s such a mess,” she said. “We’re on a waiting list for someone to haul this away, but since it’s not blocking anything, they’re telling us it’ll be another month or two before they can get to it.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Ms. Gordon. No matter what it is I find or don’t find, this isn’t your fault. Losing a home is terrible, whatever the cause.”

Her eyes filled with tears, and she nodded.

He offered her a reassuring smile, then pulled out his phone and began to snap pictures of what was left of the house. The roof joists were in pieces, the yard littered with asphalt shingles, but what looked like an entire living room wall lay on its side beneath the debris. From what he could tell, the house had collapsed on its elevated foundation, like legs buckling beneath a heavy weight.

“Our neighbors helped us salvage as much of our personal things as we could.” She sniffled but put on a brave face. “The furniture’s a total loss because of the water. Thank goodness we took all our important papers with us when we evacuated.”

“I’m sure that must have been difficult.”

Something over Zach’s shoulder pulled her attention, and her face took on a slightly dreamy quality. “Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry. I forgot to mention that someone else was meeting me here.”

Zach turned to see Brand standing behind him, flashing his million-dollar bullshit smile and trying—without much success—to appear contrite.

Zach let out a long sigh and tried to release the tension in his jaw. “Mr. Josephson.” Brand probably hadn’t realized Tessa had contacted them both about the story, but Zach didn’t appreciate someone stepping on his toes either.

Brand clearly sensed Zach’s irritation, because after he shook Tessa’s hand, he turned to Zach and said, “I didn’t realize you were Ms. Gordon’s other appointment. Sorry about that.”

Zach gave Brand props for his quick assessment of the situation, but in full supernova charm mode, Brand was supremely distracting. Not to mention this was his investigation, not Brand’s.

“I take it you know each other.” Tessa’s full focus was on Brand as she spoke.

“We’ve met.” Zach forced a smile.

“I apologize,” Tessa put in. “I probably should have warned you I also called WCBN. I was just so desperate, and….”

“No worries.” Zach strangled a sigh. “I understand.” He was used to the rivalry between local news outlets. He’d behave for now, but later he’d make sure Brand was clear about whose story this was.

They spent the next forty-five minutes talking about the builders, but other than saying that they seemed “very nice,” she didn’t have much more information than she’d provided over the phone. Zach thanked her for meeting him and told her he’d be in touch as soon as he had something to share, but warned her it might be a week or more.

Brand surprisingly didn’t object when Zach waved him back to where they’d parked their cars.

“I’m going to assume you didn’t know this was my story,” Zach said without waiting for Brand to speak. “But just so we’re clear—”

“You’re going to tell me that this is your gig.” Brand was smiling again.

“Do you ever not smile?”

Brand laughed. “Life’s too short. It’s better to smile than frown.”

“You sound like a fucking greeting card.”

“Probably.”

Zach wasn’t sure how to respond, so he pulled out his car keys instead.

Brand just stood there as Zach opened the door and got behind the wheel.

“You need something from me?” Zach asked.

“You could change your mind and let me take you to dinner.” Brand grinned but appeared entirely serious.

“Not happening.” Hookups were fine. Anything more was too complicated. And Brand? Things didn’t get any more complicated.

Brand pressed his lips together, but the hint of smile still danced on his face.

Zach closed the car door and started the engine and pulled away a moment later. He caught a glimpse of Brand in his side view mirror. He was still smiling.

 

Shira Anthony

Shira Anthony was a professional opera singer in her last incarnation, performing roles in such operas as Tosca, Pagliacci, and La Traviata, among others. She’s given up TV for evenings spent with her laptop, and she never goes anywhere without a pile of unread M/M romance on her Kindle.

Shira is married with two children and one crazy hound dog, and when she’s not writing, she is sailing up and down the East Coast aboard Prelude, a 38’ catamaran sailboat, with her favorite sexy captain at the wheel.

Shira writes what she loves, be it contemporary musicians, shifter mermen, or time-traveling vampires. Her Mermen of Ea Trilogy book, Into the Wind, was named one of the best books of 2014 by both Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words and Hearts on Fire Reviews, and was a finalist in the 2014 Goodreads M/M Romance Member’s Choice Awards. Her Blue Notes series of classical-music-themed gay romances was named one of Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Word’s “Best Series of 2012,” and the most recent book in the series, Dissonance, was named one of the best books of 2014 by Hearts on Fire Reviews.

Shira can be found on:

Facebook: www.facebook.com/shira.anthony

Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/author/show/4641776.Shira_Anthony

Twitter: @WriterShira

Website: www.shiraanthony.com

E-mail: shiraanthony@hotmail.com