Excerpt and Giveaway The Werewolf on Lowre Few Lane by Bryce Bentley-Tales

In their hometown in Ireland, thirteen-year-old Colton and his best friend Jade spend their free time investigating a local urban legend about an old abandoned house which seems to be genuinely haunted. At the same time, Colton has developed a crush on American foreign exchange student, Dylan, who is visiting his aunt. Turns out, Dylan isn’t your average American kid–he’s a werewolf. When Dylan’s aunt disappears through a portal inside the house Colton and Jade have been investigating, the three of them set out to save her from the magical realm on the other side of the doorway.

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A loud clanging echoed across the yard, and we both cowered behind the stone fence post. Adjacent to the old post, a crumbling stone wall shielded us from anyone standing by the house. When I poked my head around the ledge, nothing but the motionless tall weeds could be seen in the yard and the same gloomy look the house had had before. It was dead quiet.

Jade put her hands on my shoulders, her mouth next to my ear. “S-see, I told you. You believe me now? It’s haunted.”

I tried to speak, but my mouth was dry. I brought my binoculars up, gripping them hard with both hands. “Probably just varmint inside,” I said.

“Aye. And maybe you and your butterfingers could be captain of the rugby team.”

“Har-har. You think the Kennedy twins really disappeared inside?”

“I told you. I saw them at the house when I was with Erin two nights ago. They said they were going inside.”

“Maybe they’re hanging out at the local pub downtown?”

“Colton, no one has seen those fellas since that night. They went inside and never came out, sure of it.”

I swiveled the binoculars around, peering at the large, arched front doorway, which had a wolf face door knocker. Jade whispered close to my ear, “You see anything?”

“Shhh, I can’t focus with your tongue in my ear.”

“My tongue isn’t in your ear,” Jade said, her voice irritated. After a few seconds, she pushed on my shoulder. “By the way, you find out the new foreign-exchange fella’s story? You didn’t take your eyes off him in class. I missed a lot while I was away.” She giggled. “You fancy him, don’t you?”

I cringed, lowered the binoculars, and spoke in a hushed voice over my shoulder. “Don’t say that out loud.”

“And who’s going to blimey hear us? Just us and the ghouls at 44 Lowre Few Lane.”

“I have loved haunted houses for as long as I can remember,” recounts Bentley-Tales. “When I was kid I was hooked on the Scooby crew who were always going into haunted castles, houses, amusement parks, museums. Heck, you name it, it was haunted!” These sweet-scary childhood memories fueled Bentley-Tales’ storytelling in this book, his first YA horror story. And certainly, developing the story through the eyes of a young gay boy allowed the author to offer a special, inclusive point of view. And while masterfully creating tension and fear through the dark fantasy conflict, the navigation of young love is another great strength Bentley-Tales displays. “There’s a part in the story where Erin wants to make Colton jealous by telling him how much attention Dylan is giving her. I get a good chuckle when I re-read it, as it’s such a typical young love triangle!”

Author Website: http://brycebentleytales.com/

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#Excerpt from Taunted Souls by Janice Ross

Taunted Souls: A Friends to Lovers Romance

For the past five years, Lucas Akins has been in love with his best friend Shayna Davies. Anyone with eyes could see, even Shayna. Yet she’s been fighting off her own feelings too!
As they attempt to continue a life together as just friends, the universe steps in and forces them to own up to their feelings.
But life is never that easy.
Bad choices and dark secrets filter into their lives to shatter the only real happiness either has ever known. And they are forced into circumstances neither is prepared to take on, though they must; otherwise, love might be lost. Forever…

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Excerpt –

Shayna:

Shots fired. I dropped to the ground as a shower of the worst kind poured around me. Gunshots! The men that had been guarding me took off. After several rounds of machine gun bullets and maybe ten seconds of deathly quiet, I got enough courage to get up on my knees.

My bag was on the floor of the vehicle. I slowly pulled it out, unable to see much else. As I made slow movements, the beating of my heart pulsed through my eardrums. Remaining low, I shifted and nearly fell over a body. Blood tainted my hands as I clambered to get up and keep moving.

I gasped but nearly tripped over another. Only then did the stench of death hit me. I crept low, away from the truck. Not once did I think to look back. I could’ve been seconds away from death but didn’t care. I only wanted to get away.

When I reached the sidewalk, I paused for a few deep breaths. The tears had finally stopped flowing. I felt optimistic about survival.

“Taylor . . .” It was Van. He limped toward me, his clothes torn and soiled.

“You’re okay?” I jumped up and into his arms. Pulling back just enough, I searched for bullets or blood. I thought he signified safety. I cried. A gush of tears rushed down my face, some soaked up whatever part of his body I was leaning up against. And for the first time since meeting him, I considered having him take me all the way home.

“Can’t nothing or no one take me out,” he swore. Rubbing his thumb on my chin, he asked if I was all right.

I parted my lips to reply. My throat was dry. I took a few seconds to think on my answer because even though I hadn’t gotten hurt, my mind was totally fried. I was still scared and shaking and ready to end living, just so I wouldn’t have to go through anything like this ever again.

“Did you think it would be that easy?” a female voice kinda whistled at us. In slow motion, I turned my head to the voice and zoomed in. She was dressed in black, with strands of blonde hair streaming through a cap. It was pulled low enough that you couldn’t quite make out all of her features, but it was obvious that she was gorgeous.

“Who the hell are you?” Van asked. His arm snaked around my waist as he yanked me into his groin. I could’ve thrown up right there, but I swallowed hard and forced back down the vomit.

“No time for that. I need you to take a walk with me.”

Van laughed kind of shaky.

“It’ll be even funnier when this place starts swarming with police and you’re forced to explain these dead bodies,” she threw out.

I’d forgotten Van had a gun until he pulled it out and pointed directly at her. As much as I was scared out of my mind, I couldn’t help but mentally trace the sleek design. I was inches away from something that could end a life. Silent alarms sounded in my mind. I squirmed around, but his grip grew tighter.

“What’s this, Van?” I mumbled, turning my head just enough until I was able to see him from the corner of my eyes. “You’re squeezing the hell out of me.”

“Don’t move.” He yanked me closer into him. “Stay quiet.”

My tear ducts burned as I searched out some kind of hint from the stranger. I didn’t know if she was a friend or enemy. Right now, Van had me feeling like he was nothing but an evil and twisted bastard for doing me this way.

 

 

 

Interview with author Janice Ross

Janice Ross was born in Guyana, South America and migrated to the USA in 1980. Although her citizenship certificate now reads the United States of America, she considers herself a citizen of the world. Sure she has not physically been around the world and back, but she’s travelled in her mind and dreams.

Janice enjoys Zumba, Kickboxing, and most exercise classes. When she’s not pushing her physical limits, Janice spends time working on her craft, as well as lending a hand to other aspiring writers.

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Incognolio Excerpt

INCOGNOLIO by Michael Sussman Bewildered but lovable author, Muldoon, is trapped in the dreamlike narrative of his own surrealistic novel. Beginning with just a title—Incognolio—he enters a bizarre fictional realm that plunges him into an identity crisis of anguishing proportions. … Continue reading

Excerpt The Last April by Belinda Kroll

Spontaneous, fifteen-year-old Gretchen vows to help heal the nation from the recently ended Civil War. On the morning of President Lincoln’s death, Gretchen finds an amnesiac Confederate in her garden and believes this is her chance for civic goodwill.

But reconciliation is not as simple as Gretchen assumed. When her mother returns from the market with news that a Confederate murdered the president, Gretchen wonders if she caught the killer. Tensions between her aunt and mother rise as Gretchen nurses her Confederate prisoner, revealing secrets from their past that make Gretchen question everything she knows about loyalty, honor, and trust.

The Last April is an entertaining, thoughtful novella of Ohio after the Civil War, meant to encourage readers to reflect on themes of fear and hope in uncertain political times.

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Everyone else would remember that Saturday as the day President Lincoln died. Gretchen Miller would remember it as the day the ragged man collapsed at her feet.

Gretchen was tugging at weeds and swatting at gnats when a thud made her whip around. The war was over, but Confederate supporters were everywhere. They lingered after General Lee’s surrender, and President Lincoln’s reconciliation speech, and in pro-Union Columbus.

Gretchen swung from her hunched position to lean back on her barefoot heels. Her skirts puffed out with the movement. She slapped them down, annoyed.

Sharp sunlight made it difficult to see. Gretchen thought she saw a collapsed man just yards from her hem. She adjusted her straw hat so it shaded her eyes.

The man was sprawled across the oak tree roots. Gretchen could not tell his age or condition from where she crouched. His back was to her, his dark head resting on his outstretched arm. He was not moving.

“May the angels have charge of me,” Gretchen whispered. She patted the revolver in her skirt pocket.

His leg twitched.

Gretchen’s heart leaped. That dark, matted hair gave her a turn. Maybe it was her brother Werner, returned from war at last. A hundred men from the Grove City area had answered President Lincoln’s call for soldiers. Everyone was afraid of the number that would return.

Gretchen grabbed her skirts as she scrambled to standing. She flailed her arms at the log farmhouse she called home. She could not shout, in case the man had faked his injury and was waiting for an excuse to attack.

Her aunt, Tante Klegg, stuck her head out the kitchen door. “What is it?” Tante Klegg’s heavy German accent was strident in the quiet morning. It matched the severity of her hair braided and twisted tight against her head.

Gretchen put her finger to her lips. She cupped her hands around her mouth so her whisper would carry. “There is a man.” She waved at her aunt to come outside.

Tante Klegg tiptoed across the rocks Gretchen had overturned gardening. She held her skirt layers high above her ankles.

The man remained quiet, only his twitching foot letting them know he lived. Gretchen did not know if that meant he was dangerous or that he was too injured to move.

Gretchen brushed a strand of reddish hair from her mouth as the breeze picked up. Though it was April, the humidity was heavy and stifling. The wind still carried the scent of cooling bonfires from yesterday’s elaborate celebrations.

Last night, Gretchen had danced until her feet ached and sung until her voice was hoarse. She had been ready to do anything to help her country heal. She held onto the president’s words of reconciliation that she read in the newspaper. She hoped everyone could see the Confederates as prodigal brothers and sisters. She hoped the Confederates would be humble and welcomed home.

With a stranger at her feet, Gretchen realized such things were easier said than done. She gripped the revolver hidden in her pocket and held out her other hand to stop her aunt from advancing. Holding her breath, she crept closer.

The man perhaps could have been her brother, once upon a time. His body was gaunt, worn thin by trials Gretchen suspected she would never understand. His left hand did not bear Werner’s distinctive strawberry-shaped birthmark.

This was not her brother.

Belinda Kroll is the author of Victorian fiction for kids and teens. She grew up in a home where reading was encouraged and Jeopardy! was on every weeknight. Both activities fostered her love of history. Some of her titles include Catching the Rose, Haunting Miss Trentwood, short story Haunting Miss Trentwood: The Seance, and contemporary short story Mad Maxine. She lives in Central Ohio with her husband and two step-dogs. Go Bucks!

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/BelindaKrollFans
Twitter: https://twitter.com/worderella
Author Site: http://worderella.com/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4189553.Belinda_Kroll

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#Excerpt Special Ed Mom Survival Guide

“Your son’s brain function is severely abnormal. I would recommend you begin saving for his group home care as an adult.”

Any mom would be crushed by this dire pessimistic prediction, but Bonnie did not let this UCLA neuropsychologist’s edict determine her son’s fate. Combining relentless determination with research, learning and in-depth discussions with professionals, Bonnie found ways to help him progress from ‘severely abnormal’ to honor roll student.

In the Special Ed Mom Survival Guide, Bonnie leads you through the vital steps necessary to survive as a Special Ed Mom. From learning how to manage the emotional overwhelm, to figuring out how to get the school to say yes, Bonnie presents a roadmap that leads you through this confusing obstacle course. Sharing tried and true methods, Bonnie teaches you to find your own inner compass so you can gain the ability and confidence to make decisions that bring results for your child. Based on personal and professional experience, Bonnie will help you to:

  • Create the Right Mindset
  • Take Care of Yourself
  • Take Care of Your Child
  • Understand the Special Ed Process
  • Take Charge of the Special Ed Process

“If only I had had a guide to help me navigate all the challenges,” Bonnie says. “Then I could have focused more on my child and less on learning how to get help.” Every Special Ed Mom needs this guide to help make the journey easier!

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Chapter 25: Teach Your Child to Self Advocate

Working in the schools, I am amazed how often a student is not aware of the accommodations he is entitled to in his IEP or 504 plan. The teachers are aware that an IEP or 504 is in place, but often the teachers fail to implement those accommodations. I have seen situations where teachers need to be reminded many times about accommodations. Sometimes teachers even outright refuse to provide them. It is very apparent that special education students need to learn how to self-advocate so they can make sure they get the proper support that has been approved for them.

Self-advocacy is a skill that the child has to develop over time. They are never too young to start. Even in kindergarten and first grade you can help your child learn what support is needed in order to get his schoolwork done. For example, let’s say you have a child with ADHD, and he has difficulty sitting still. He needs movement breaks. If the teacher keeps saying “get in your seat, get in your seat,” he must learn to say to the teacher “I’m allowed to move around.” It doesn’t matter what age the child is, you need to teach him that he has a right to get what he needs.

 

Bonnie has spent the better part of 25 years as a graphic designer and artist. Always a lover of psychology and the forces that influence behavior, it was a natural transition for her to begin working to resolve her oldest son’s special education challenges. When he was six, a neuropsychologist said he was beyond help, and to plan for his group home care as an adult. Bonnie could not accept that nothing could be done, and she set on a path to find solutions to help her son. He is now an honor student and destined to live a typical life.

Having been through the special ed system as a mom, and now as a advocate and counselor, she saw the need for support for the parents who carry this challenging burden. She has helped parents who struggle with districts who refused services, and she has coached parents in finding ways help their child succeed against the odds. Bonnie knows the fear a mother feels when her child’s future is uncertain, and that is why she chose to shift her life focus into educational consulting. She has a thriving practice as an  educational consultant and advocate for parents who find themselves struggling with the special education journey.

She is the author of Special Ed Mom Survival Guide: How to prevail in the special ed process while discovering life-long strategies for both you and your child. She is also the creator of Grounded for Life: 52 Exercises for Daily Grounding, and co-author of Same Journey, Different Paths: Stories of Auditory Processing Disorder. She has a masters in educational counseling and another in spiritual psychology. Her bachelors degree is in architecture. She lives in Ventura County, California with her husband, two boys and their two furry felines.

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Excerpt Edger by David Beem #NewRelease #Giveaway

Edger

by David Beem

Meet Edger (Ed-jer), a twenty-six-year-old gadget retail dork destined to become the world’s first superhero!

His superpower: the ability to channel the Collective Unconscious, a psychic network connecting the living and the dead. In his arsenal are the skills of Bruce Lee, the strength of Samson, the wisdom of the ages…and the dancing chops of Michael Jackson—including that one twisty foot move, crotch grab, and fedora tilt.

But there’s a catch…

Like every psychic superpower to get administered through a hypodermic needle, this one comes with a prick. Someone seems to have misplaced the booster necessary for stabilizing his superpower. Without it, Edger has three days before his brain turns to pudding.

Join our Dork of Destiny as he overcomes the world’s greatest butt, two rival Cluck-n-Pray gangs, an evil cow, a Green Bay Defensive Tackle, rifle-toting assassins—and a pair of stoners who inadvertently create the world’s first supervillain after a wild night on Twitter!

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Wang and Shmuel at the Q

Wang ducks behind the postcard rack in the gift shop. Once the two security guards race past, he spins to face Shmuel, who is wearing a pair of Chargers sunglasses, a Chargers ski hat, three Chargers chain necklaces, and four Commemorative Chargers rings on each hand.

“What the hell are you doing?” snaps Wang.

“Shopping?”

“Put all that stuff back!”

“Imma get me some gold front teeth,” says Shmuel, grinning into the mirror at the top of the sunglasses rack.

“Dude, we don’t have time for this! Those guys are going after Chicowgo right now!”

“They are?” Shmuel takes off his shades and puts them back on the rack. “Now? How do you know?”

“I heard it on their radios. Chicowgo is in the visiting team’s locker room.”

“Well, that’s right over there.” Shmuel points without looking over his shoulder in the correct direction. Wang bites his lip, then drags Shmuel around to the other side of the sunglasses rack, so they’re obscured from the guard sitting next to the door with the big letters over it that spell: OFF LIMITS. Shmuel pushes Wang’s blocking arm down and peers around the sunglasses rack to where the guard is finishing his lunch from a Cluck-n-Pray bag.

“Is that…is that one of our brownies?”

Wang nods.

“Well, that’s convenient,” says Shmuel, his eyebrows going up. “I mean, the one guard we need to sneak past to get Chicowgo back just happens to be eating one of our Very Special Brownies?”

Wang turns around to face him. “What’s your point?”

“Just doesn’t seem very plausible is all I’m saying.”

“Plausible? Plausible?” Wang frowns. “The fuck are you? A movie critic? Look. Just chat him up for five secs. I’ll slip by, take the elevator down, and get your damn cow back. How’s that sound?”

“I think it doesn’t sound very plausible?”

“Yeah? Well, that’s what they said about Donald Trump, and look how that turned out.”

“Shit, dude. You think the Russians are gonna make the Green Bay locker room great again?”

Wang’s eyes narrow. “Can you do your part of the job or not?”

“Chat up the security guard while you get Chicowgo back? Sure. But I don’t think it’s such a good idea to talk politics? I don’t know who he voted for.”

Wang shoves him toward the security guard. “Big fucking surprise. You don’t know who you voted for either, now get going!”

 

David Beem enjoys superhero movies, taekwondo, and flossing. He lives in Djibouti with his family and crippling self-doubt. Help actualize David’s inner confidence. Visit his website today, and buy all the stuff.

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“…undeniably entertaining.” – Kirkus Reviews

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Excerpt – Mirror Image and Giveaway

Las Vegas stripper, Jazz Connolly is wrongly accused of murder and finds out the killer may be her identical twin. With help from a Denver cop Mike Mitchell—the latest victim’s best friend and her accuser, Jazz uncovers facts about her past, a dark secret twisted with lies, and clues to the killer’s true identity.

When Mike finds Jazz on his doorstep, he can’t resist the temptation and helps her track down details of her past. As they uncover clues, he can’t ignore the potent chemistry between them. In this tangled web of chaos, their passion ignites, but can they learn to trust each other? While the body count grows, they will have to fight back, love hard, and survive in order to learn the truth and expose the real killer.

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Studying the picture of the woman, I could swear I’m looking at myself. “I don’t know who that is, but that isn’t me,” I gulp out. “I don’t have clothes like that and my wig is black.”

“It’s uncanny, isn’t it though? She looks just like you, aside from the wig. Are you sure you don’t have any siblings? Maybe a twin sister? She has to be, from the way you two look so much alike.” Lindstrum charges.

“No. I’m an only child. I don’t even have cousins,” I say. All the while my focus is on the picture of the woman in the red wig. I know it’s me in the black wig. But both detectives are right. This woman and I can pass for sisters. Twins.

“Are you sure?” Ruiz is insistent. “We tried getting into your adoption files but they’re blocked.”

“Positive.” Wait. Did I hear him correctly? “What do you mean adoption files?” I ask, staring at Ruiz for the answers. “This has to be some mistake? I’m not adopted.” Or am I?

“We were able to find some details about your adoption, Ms. Jessica Ann Connolly. What we uncovered is that you were adopted by Margaret and William Connolly from Brandford, Idaho, on June 13, 1991.” Lindstrum says evenly. He leans back in his chair and nods at me. “That is the truth.”

I’m adopted. Shock tears through me. Is this possible? The truth is like a boulder on my chest and I can’t breathe. I don’t know what to think or do. Everything is starting to spin. Not even sure if I’m having a heart attack because my chest is hurting so bad. My skin’s prickling tight against my bones and my hearing and vision are fading in and out.

Don’t pass out, is all I can repeat to myself, but that is exactly what I do.

 

CJ Warrant Bio:

CJ Warrant is a lover, a hater and sometimes a fighter for all she’s passionate about. She can’t exist without coffee, chocolate and a damn story brewing in her head. She was born an overseas Army brat, in a Korean Italian household but settled in the states at the ripe old age of five.

With a long career in the beauty industry, a wonderful marriage to a great man and three kids nearly all grown, her view of life is as such. Life is a journey; both good and bad, light and dark, but she takes it all in and learns from every experience life has to offer. She takes those crazy moments, stirs in the dark and brings her passion for words to life.

Visit CJ at www.cjwarrant.com

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Excerpt – A Painting to Die For Book 3 Jenna Scali Mystery Series by Joan Curtis

A Painting to Die For

Book 3 Jenna Scali Mystery Series

Jenna’s quiet weekend turns upside down when her house is ransacked and a body is found with her name and number in its possession. Meanwhile her long-lost cousins show up with stories about international art theft dating back to World War II.

While Jenna questions the motives of her dead father in his connection to stolen art, the police find a second body with Jenna’s name in its possession and she becomes the primary link in two murder inquiries. Sidestepping the police and dodging the mob, she and her best friend, Quentin, embark on their own investigation to save themselves and Jenna’s cousins from untimely deaths.

Offset by the quiet university town where faculty and students mill about, minding their own business, Jenna is kidnapped and held at gunpoint while her double-crossing, lying cousins chase after the missing painting worth millions.

A Painting to Die For forms a web of deceit that leaves Jenna doubting everything she believes about her father and his Italian heritage.

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Read an excerpt-

A few minutes later, my co-worker and second best friend in the world came
thundering in like a woman possessed. Starr carried a cloth bag, full of potions,
brushes, curling irons and who knew what else. She placed the bag at my feet and
plopped down next to me, her usually wild curly hair more frizzled than ever and
her large blue eyes bulging.
“Jenna, what the devil is going on? All those police cars all over the place, and
I thought, well, my little mind couldn’t help itself, imagining something terrible had
happened to you. And, my Lord! Look at this place.”
“I forgot all about you highlighting my hair today, Starr. I’m sorry. I should
have called you. This has been a crazy weekend. First my cousins—”
“Slow down and tell me why your house is full of cops and looks as if a
hurricane struck inside. Then you can jabber on about your cousins. Lordy, I’m not
believing this place.”
“But, my cousins may be why the police are here.”
Her eyes widened more, if that were possible.
“They showed up on my doorstep on Saturday afternoon with some cock-
and-bull story about somebody stealing my daddy’s painting.”

Starr was shaking her head. “You’re not making any sense. Your daddy? I
thought he was dead, sweet pea. How’s he gonna paint a picture if he’s dead?”
I gave Starr a quick rundown of the weekend with my cousins and the stolen
painting.
“That sounds like a story in my hometown newspaper and equally hard to
follow. Are you saying some low-life stole your daddy’s painting? But why? Was he
famous or something?”
Before I could answer, Rich returned with Sergeant Lewis beside him.
When Starr saw Rich, she jumped up and gave him a bear hug. “Thank the
good Lord you’re here. What has our girl gone and gotten her little self mixed up in
now?”
Rich grinned. “We’re not sure. It could be kids looking for amphetamines or
Oxycodone.”
“Jenna doesn’t take any of that stuff.”
“We’ve had a lot of break-ins lately,” Lewis interjected, “in and around Five
Points, likely college kids. They case the area, and if they spot someone living alone,
they watch until the person leaves, then they do their handiwork. That’s probably
what’s going on here. It has nothing to do with what Miss Scali takes or doesn’t
take.”
“But to leave this place like this. It looks as if she’d been entertaining General
Sherman’s troops in her living room. What a Gawd-awful mess.” She’d begun picking
up papers and books off the floor. “Those kids need the hide beaten right off of
them.”

“Yeah, we’d love to do that. Trust me. It’s like this because they were
apparently in a hurry,” Lewis said. “I’m a little curious, though. Usually the kids
break a window. They don’t care about the mess or the noise. But, this time no
windows are broken. It looks as if someone jimmied the lock on the backdoor. That’s
new.”
“Maybe they’ve gotten smarter,” I suggested.
Just then Quentin flew in the door and ran over to me. “Jenna, love, what in
the world happened here?”
By now tears flowed down my face, rendering me speechless and unable to
answer any more questions.
“Could this have anything to do with the missing—”
I gave him a hard kick in the shin.
“Ouch! What the devil?”
I shook my head at him. On cue, Rich pulled Sergeant Lewis aside.
While the two policemen conferred, I whispered to Quentin, “We don’t want
to alert Sergeant Lewis to my cousins just yet.”
“Oh, okay, sorry, love. I’m just flabbergasted. Last night you had everything so
tidy.”
“C’mon, let’s get out of here,” Starr said. “My little heart can’t take this chaos.”
The three of us exited the front door with Quentin busy on his phone. “I’ll just
text Rosaria to pop over. And, maybe Lucille. You’re gonna need the troops to get
your place sorted.”
Rich ran us down. “Where are you going?”

“We thought it would be best for Jenna to get out of the way,” Starr answered.
“She’s pretty shook up,” Quentin added.
Clearly no one thought I could talk for myself.
“Okay, but I’ll text you when they’re done. I’m not real comfortable with you
staying here by yourself tonight.”
“Does that mean you’ll stay over?”
“I can’t. I’ve got a meeting at seven a.m. tomorrow. But—”
“No worries. Steve’s visiting his no-good brother in Americus. She’s going
home with me, and I’ll even make a bed for the darn cats,” Starr said.
With that, we piled into Starr’s minivan and headed for parts unknown.

Dr. Joan Curtis is an award winning writer who has published 8 books and numerous stories.

The e-Murderer: Book 1 Jenna Scali mystery series won the GOLD in the Global eBook Awards for 2016 for Mystery.

The Clock Strikes Midnight has won three major awards. FINALIST in the prestigious Eric Hoffer Book Awards 2016, FIRST PLACE Royal Palm Literary Award for mainstream/literary 2015 and the Silver in the Global eBook Awards for 2015 for Fiction/Suspense

Murder on Moonshine Hill won the SILVER in the Global eBook Awards for 2017 Mystery and the BRONZE 2017 for Southern fiction Reader’s Favorite.

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