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Prequel 3/5

“She swallowed the rebuttal back as he gently wiped the tears from her cheeks and she let him have it. Hope, that is. Because sometimes when it comes to love, it’s just what you do.” —Britney King, Beyond Bedrock

Backstory: Skip the line if you read the backstory on the prequel posts last week and scroll down to the line break.


I’m not absolutely certain but…I’m pretty certain that Beyond Bedrock is one of my most under read and therefore underrated novels. Which is sad because I think it’s some of my best work. Even if a few reviewers tend to disagree. ?

When I wrote the book (which has been called ‘Single White Female meets Fatal Attraction’) I had no idea that I’d later write more of Lydia’s story. But she really grew on me— and thus the idea for Water Under The Bridge was born. Not to spoil the story for you… but Lydia is the psychopath (who is quite clever in my book;) which assumes the alias Kate in Water Under The Bridge.

That said, I consider Beyond Bedrock a prequel— although it is NOT necessary to read it before reading Water Under The Bridge. On that subject, just a side note about my books— most of them have overlapping characters—but read as standalones. In fact, you don’t have to read the first two Bedrock books to understand Beyond Bedrock—although it’d be nice if you did. ?

Anyway, I thought I’d share excerpts of Beyond Bedrock here over the next several weeks leading up to the release of Water Under The Bridge.

Keep in mind, she’s crazy.

And, also, probably one of the most real characters I’ve ever written.


Her mother brought her clothes and not much else. There was nothing left to give, she supposed. After all, the light in her mother’s eyes had gone out long ago. But Lydia cared little about that, truthfully. That day, she wore the color brown from head to toe because she understood in psychology, brown relates to the hardworking, to those who are industrious and reliable—to those who have both feet planted firmly on the ground.

Brown was a color she wore often in the early days of their love story. She writes to him so he will know all about it. Because reliability and hard work, Lydia decided, are things she and William have in common. And to prove it, she spends her days doing little else but writing to him.

9:14 AM

Dearest William,

For three months, following your little rendezvous on the news, I’d been trying to figure out a way to get close to you. Really close. Not like the times in the coffee shops where I sat and watched you come and go—or how in restaurants we were often seated side by side, and yet still lifetimes apart.

That was enough for a while.

I was watching you. Studying you. It filled me up to learn all about you. I learned how you took you coffee, your go-to lunch options, right down to the way you often snuck out of business dinners to call her. I watched you. You’d sneak off to a dark corner somewhere, you’d talk filthy to her, and judging by your response—by the way you sometimes had to adjust yourself, and then wait a few minutes before returning to the table, she must have done the same.

The last time I watched this little escapade occur, I wanted to go to you. To help you out. I wanted to finish you off. And I almost did. I almost got close enough, they way I really wanted. But as I rounded the corner, you caught my eye, and I saw something in you then. You were startled. It was you in a way I hadn’t seen you before. And something told me to wait. To be patient. I sense things about people and I know you weren’t ready, not yet.

But there was a weakness there. A weakness I hadn’t seen before.

That weakness, it seemed, was her.

It was then I knew just what had to be done.

In order to get to get closer…

I had to become her.





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