Sean Casey has convinced himself he's content with his blue-collar existence but at an emotional and philosophical crossroads in his relationship with his yuppie lawyer fiancee.
When Echo Quinn--an adolescent flame, but now a successful health club owner--suddenly resurfaces with their "gifted" and troubled ten-year-old son in tow, Sean is forced to confront his deadly past and find absolution.
Watch the sparks fly when a pyrokinetic firefighter, and an alcoholic telepath--reunite in this "secret baby" story with a supernatural twist...
An Awe-Struck ReleaseComing Soon...
Gracie C. McKeever is a writer/poet from the Bronx, and has been writing since the ripe old age of seven. But not until 1994 when she earned her first byline (her short story FORGIVEN published in a brand new genre fiction magazine out of Colorado) did she begin to take her talent seriously and believe she could take her writing to the next level: completing a novel. To date she has finished several novels, two poetry collections, and is proud to have joined the ranks of the e-published--a growing list of authors who have caught the "new wave of the future".
Since her first byline, Gracie's work has gone on to see exposure in various lit and art magazines and other venues. Of particular note: poetry, short stories and novel excerpts have been heard over the airwaves on KFJC's morning show, Dancing In The Fast Lane With Ann Arbor (Unbedtime Stories) out of Los Altos Hills, CA, in the Silicon Valley; articles, poetry and novel excerpts have been published in Street News ("World's Oldest Active Homeless Paper"); and she has read her poetry on Pseudo On-line Network (Street News Review).
Born and raised in New York City and living two subway-stops away from the celebrated "Bronx Bombers" (Go Yankees!), Gracie is a incontrovertible "aunt material" and shares her apartment with her cat Misty (the nieces and nephews are in the will, but the cat is not .)
Gracie can so far modestly lay claim to these awards and Honorable Mentions, though she remains ever optimistic of bigger and better things for her writing career:
Honorable Mention, Quincy Writer's Guild Contests, 1993 and 1994 for fiction and poetry.
Byline: 1994 Summer Poem Contest, 1997 Sense of Place Poem, and 1997 Inspirational Poem (2nd Place).
Runner-Up 1994 Red Shoe Diaries Contest.
Semi-Finalist 1996 Writers Network Screenplay and Fiction Competition (Miles To Go, a young adult novel).
National Writers Association (NWA) 10th Place 1997 Novel Contest (Dancing In the Dark M/C Adult)
Quarter-Finalist 1997 Writers Network Screenplay and Fiction Competition (Never Let You Go, M/C Adult).
"Gracie C. McKeever has a combustible story in Flames Past. Her female character is not the usual run of the mill. Echo was a troubled youth and grew to be a strong woman albeit with some sensitive issues to overcome. Her love for her son is never in doubt, but she worries about her parenting skills. Into this mix throw in a bit of the paranormal and you have a recipe that could either be a disaster or an epicurean delight. The boys attitude and emotions were appropriate and well written. Sean Casey is a good man through and through, although, his issues with his gift and the guilt he suffers seem almost insurmountable. In Flames Past, Gracie C. McKeever weaves a well written story of three coming together as a family with all the traits and characters that make them individuals."Dana P. -- Fallen Angel Reviews
"...a superb paranormal romance."Susan Mobley -- Romantic Times magazine
"Anger and secrets of years past can't stay down. Like the flames of a fire out of control, they surface to destroy the budding relationships...Three bells to Gracie as she successfully builds an out of control fire in the readers' hearts."Jan Crow -- The Word on Romance
"...powerful, and the depth of emotion between the characters often had my heart clenching with their pain."Shadoe -- The Word on Romance
"...an exciting and moving love story...McKeever is a very talented writer."Harriet Klausner -- Affaire de Coeur magazine
"I expect to read more and more of Ms. McKeever's books. In this day and age, having the hero be a firefighter is wonderful. Could it be that Ms. McKeever also has a touch of ESP?"Rita Hyatt -- RCRG Reviews
Echo sat on the edge of the bed, munching the last of her toasted raisin bran muffin as she watched Sean from the corner of an eye, sopping up egg yolk with a piece of toast.
He sat on the bed beside her, not indecently close, but close enough for his body heat to inundate her senses. Several inches away and she still felt like he was enveloping her--inside and out--the two of them melding into one. The fact that he was sitting there in just a towel, with nary a barrier more substantial than a strip of terry around his waist, didn't ease her discomfit. Forget the fact that the man was the father of her child, for Chrissakes, and that she knew every inch of his body as if it were her own-at least she used to. She was thrown by the idea of being alone in a hotel room with an irresistible, near naked man, despite him being one with whom she shared an intimate history.
God, what had she been thinking bringing him back here? Like she would have been any less on edge at the bed and breakfast? She didn't think so.
Sean reached across Echo for his o.j.. His closest shoulder just brushed the sleeve of her chambray shirt as he lifted his glass from the serving tray, and it was as if a lighted match had penetrated the material to sear her skin beneath.
She leaned into him, his warmth summoning her as it had a thousand lifetimes ago, as it always would. When she glanced at his lap and saw the swelling under the white terry, Echo knew that he wasn't anymore immune to her than she was to him. She took the glass from him, rose to her knees beside him on the bed, thought to tip the scales in her favor. Then she noticed the tiny gold freight train dangling from an expensive chain around his neck and her heart caught. Maybe the scales were already tipped and she didn't know it.
Encouraged, she replaced the glass to the tray, eased a palm to the quickly increasing bulge beneath his towel, brazenly caressing him through the still-damp terry.
Sean watched her, rooted to the spot, his sharp intake of breath the only indication he hadn't died.
Echo took his inaction as permission and guided him up to his knees to face her. He followed her lead willingly. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing close to feel his tumescence flush. When Sean pulled her tight against him and buried his face in her hair and throat, liquid fire sliced through her belly.
She pulled back, sliding a foil pack out of her vest pocket, ready to make this happen.
Sean arched a brow, smiling as she tore into the pack with her teeth and fingers. "Room Service?"
"I took it out of your wallet before I sent your clothes down to be cleaned, smarty." Echo searched his face for embarrassment or indignation and found neither. Blushing at her own boldness, she pushed the envelope further. "Any objections?"
"Not a one, darlin'."