The Resurrection of Dinah McCall

If you’re new to my work, you won’t know who Dinah McCall was. If you’ve been reading me for a while, then you do. So, FYI… Dinah McCall is my pen name, and the last book she wrote was THE SURVIVORS, which came out in 2006. I was writing The Survivors in 2005 when my Bobby became ill, and then was diagnosed with liver cancer. He died in our house, in my arms, and a piece of me and Dinah went with him. It took me over a year to finish that book after he died. Every time I sat down to try and write, all I could see was him, all I could remember was feeling his last breath on my cheek. I was a wreck.

Over time, I managed to get my act together, but thinking about writing a Dinah book just reminded me of the last one, which reminded me of him, and ultimately, Dinah quit. Thank goodness Sharon didn’t, or we would both be homeless.

Yes, my Bobby was gone, but his spirit is always around me. I know it. I feel him. When I am worried or down about something, I find pennies. His signal to me that he is near. When I travel…when I have a serious appointment at the doctor, when I am worried about my mother, my family, making the next mortgage payment, whatever it is, I know he is near.

And then a few months ago I had a dream. Again, for those of you who DON’T know, I dream my books. In color, with dialogue, etc… like you would go to the movies. So in this dream, my Bobby was showing me a scene (it’s in the first part of the book where the heroine is being attacked and then rescued). And then the next night, I got the rest of the story. Everything in this book is an homage to the Native American race and to their enduring spirit to be able to survive despite what would seem to many, overwhelming odds.. Bobby was from the Creek/Muscogee tribe. Both of my daddy’s grandmothers were of Native American descent. One was Cherokee, the other Cree. So we always shared a kindred spirit as well as the love.

So, it’s because of my Bobby, and the dream and the push he gave me, that prompted Dinah McCall to pull herself out of mothballs. This is the first book she’s written in seven years. She was afraid most people had forgotten about her. She was leery about a Native American paranormal when the hot topic in paranormal books seems to still be demons, vampires and witches. But this was the dream, and this is the book, and it’s from her (and me and my Bobby) to you, with love…

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