Dalia grew up in Queens, New York and now makes her home in Northern Virginia outside of Washington, D.C. She is an avid reader who enjoys writing fiction stories with a mixture of mystery and romance. When not writing, she enjoys attending smooth jazz concerts, visiting wineries and solving Sudoku puzzles.
Here's a little bit about her new romantic suspense, Mirrored:
The last thing Nicole expected to encounter in her first assignment as a newspaper reporter was, Andre Moore. Andre Moore, tall, handsome, irresistible homicide detective who is everything that her heart desires yet she struggles to resist.
Their investigation of a murder case draws them closer together. Nicole becomes captivated by his good looks and charm, but suspects that he knows more about the case than he’s willing to share. Will her love and passion for him survive the mystery that lies behind him?
From the back he stood very tall, 6’4” I guessed, and although he was wearing black slacks and a burgundy polo shirt, I could still see that his body was in great shape; athletic and toned. I couldn’t help from zeroing in on his firm butt.
He walked back around to the other side of his desk and turned to face me and I suddenly became breathless. He was the most beautiful man that I’d ever laid eyes on. I know that men were not meant to be beautiful, but he was more than handsome. Thick, dark shiny hair, deep olive complexion, hazel eyes…and those lips, I could almost taste them. His eyes met mine and I felt my heart race.
He motioned for me to come in and have a seat. I stood paralyzed for a few seconds. I remember reading about this kind of attraction in romance novels, but never believed the hype. I pulled myself together, hoping that he hadn’t notice my flushed face. I sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk.
He hung up the telephone, stood up from his chair and reached over to shake my hand. “As you might have already guessed, I’m Detective Andre Moore, but please, call me Andre.” I blushed as I lifted my hand to touch his. For a moment words got stuck in my mouth. I cleared my throat.
“I’m Nicole Watson, nice to meet you.” I reluctantly released his hand.
“Can I get you something to drink, Ms. Watson? Water? Soda?”
My nerves seemed to be taking over. I’ve got to put this schoolgirl silliness to the side and do the job I’m here to do, I thought.
“No, thank you. I’m ready to begin discussing the case. Oh, and by the way, please call me Nicole.” Darn, why did that slip out? I wondered.
Moore had the case file already on his
desk. I took my notebook and a pen from
my briefcase so that I could write down notes as well as review the questions
that I needed to ask about the case. I
looked up to find him watching me get prepared.
I couldn’t quite read his expression as he gave nothing away; his eyes
returned to the file on his desk. There was
something about the way he looked at me that stirred my soul. He proceeded to describe the case from its
beginning with what was reported by the uniformed officers who’d arrived at the
murder scene first. The body of
16-year-old Vanessa Rojas was found lying in a pool of blood in one of the
bedrooms of the apartment. Her body was
covered with stab wounds and bruises.
Andre took a couple of pictures from the folder and handed them to me.
“Here, take a look at these. This is what that monster did to this poor girl.”
I hesitantly took the pictures, uneasy and unsure of what I would see or if I even wanted to look at something so gruesome.
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