Friday, March 25, 2016


You're going to love this post, readers. Welcome to the blog, Lida.
Sometimes I feel like I’m onboard a pirate ship in the middle of a vast, restless ocean, surrounded by strangers of questionable character. I’m stuck…unless I want to dive over the side into dark, bottomless waters hiding hungry creatures with long, sharp teeth and a passion for blood. I’m talking about my day job as the director of a legal non-profit.
Most of my days are harmless; all are action-packed. I work with over 600 lawyers and judges. I run different programs that sometimes bring out the complicated, the unpredictable, and once in a while, the unstable in the community
I’m rarely alone in my suite. Other attorneys populate the building, leaving me with numerous capable hands and minds to help when needed. Except for this one day.
My assistant was out, and so it seemed was everyone else in my section of the building. It was late morning, a lovely day in Southern California. Life was good. I sat in my office, reviewing paperwork, when the door to my suite opened. I stepped out to the desk usually occupied by staff. A gentleman in his sixties stood before me, wearing a suit and tie, carrying a file in one hand. I took him for a lawyer or possibly a prospective client. Life was still good.
I asked if he needed help. He replied, “I’m here just for the day, from Pebble Beach.”
Pebble Beach is a posh community just southwest of San Francisco. He captured my attention with that tidbit. He appeared legitimate.
“I need to file for arbitration.”
“I’d be happy to help.”
He moved closer and dropped his file on the desk. He emptied his pockets. Keys, pens, and a bottle of medication tumbled out. The rest of his words were a blur. He mumbled something about his criminal case, his unjust imprisonment, how his attorney was in cahoots with the DA and how they wouldn’t get away with it. I started to feel nervous.
“I need to move my car.” He raced out the door. Without his keys. And up the stairs to the second floor…where there was no parking lot.
I moved toward the door, but he was back before I could exit.
“Why aren’t you helping me?” His next words spilled out in one stream. “Are you in cahoots with them too?”
For a moment, I saw myself as a headline in the morning news. Mild mannered non–profit director found… and I got angry. “You need to leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere. You don’t know who you’re dealing with. I’m the godson of JFK. I dated Hillary during the Whitewater scandal, I…”
Okay, so at least one screw was loose. I wanted him out. In my novel, my heroine works for a boss who lays down the law, Marshall Law that is, (his name is Marshall), about unseating difficult people. Marshall suggests having a lunatic present when involved in a potentially sticky situation or, if no lunatic is handy, to act like one yourself. I squared my shoulders, stood tall, pointed to the door, and in my best Darth Vader voice, I boomed. “Out!” I could have chased a Grizzly Bear in high heels at that moment.
The guy grabbed his belongings and turned to say something, but I maintained my stance. He left.
I never thought I’d take advice from a fictional character in my own novel. Little did I know.
Blurb: Watch out Southern California! There's a new entertainment attorney in town and she's got game. Only problem is, it’s not the one she should be playing. Corrie Locke belongs behind a desk, not behind a Glock. She should be taking VIP calls, not nosing around a questionable suicide. Instead, she's hot on the trail of a murderer.
Luckily, she's the daughter of a late, great private eye and she's inherited his love of sleuthing…and illegal weaponry. It doesn't help matters that her gene for caution is a recessive one. Corrie finds herself in the center of a murder case, unearthing suspects in shocking places. With a cold-blooded killer on the loose, Corrie will have to up her game, or die trying.
Biography: Like her heroine, Corrie Locke, Lida Sideris worked as an entertainment attorney for a film studio. Unlike her heroine, she did not get blackmailed into investigating the suspicious death of a co-worker. Lida resides in the northern tip of Southern California with her family, their rescue shepherds, and a flock of uppity chickens. She was one of two national recipients of the Helen McCloy/Mystery Writers of America scholarship for mystery writing. 
              TWITTER: @lidasideris

Purchase Links

A Book Excerpt:
I veered out of the parking lot and bounced onto the cavity-ridden dirt road. The mystery car appeared out of nowhere from beneath the tall pines, eclipsed by the darkness. Now it raced away somewhere ahead.
“Why didn’t we hear it start?” I asked James.
“It’s a hybrid.”
“We’re in a car chase with a Prius?” A car chase with a Porsche or Ferrari was respectable, but with a battery operated car? All bragging rights vanished.
I shifted into warp speed and surged downhill. Seconds later, we faced the hybrid’s rear bumper. The spot for the license plate sat empty.
“He’s not getting away,” I said.
The hybrid turned and launched up a hill, kicking up pebbles and a dusty haze. It fish-tailed and I nearly nipped it in the rear. I executed a sharp left and ran over something large. And lumpy.
“Stop,” James said.
I skidded to a halt, a cloud of dirt trapped in my headlights. The Prius escaped through an open gate and onto La Paz. My eyes cut to the rearview mirror. My tail-lights illuminated the road behind us in an eerie red glow. As I surveyed the scene, not a trace of saliva remained in my mouth.


  1. Thanks so much for hosting me today, Brenda!

    1. It's a pleasure. Loved your story. Not sure why everyone is so silent but they are reading!

  2. Fantastic story and great advice. I must say though, I was picturing a Grizzly Bear in high heels.

  3. Hi Sandra, Thanks so much for the visit and your kind words! Glad there was no real Grizzly in the story!

  4. Scary incident for you in real life. Yikes, so glad you're ok.
    Loved the excerpt especially the Prius pursuit. Sooooo

    1. Hi Word Actress. Thanks for commenting on Lida's post.