Special Delivery by Jacqueline Vick

I hope everyone had a great weekend!

I'm starting out the week, introducing readers to author Jacqueline Vick, and her VERY FUN novella, Special Delivery.

DESCRIPTION:
When someone strangles the life out of cantankerous postal employee Abigail Watts, Deanna Wilder is certain that an odd phrase uttered by the victim on the day of her death holds the key to solving Abigail’s murder. Unfortunately for her daughters, Roxanne and Vanessa, Deanna turns the investigation into a family affair.

This 9,500 word novella introduces The Wilder Women, the sleuthing family featured in the upcoming novel, "Family Matters". A sneak peek at the first chapter of the novel is included at the end of the novella.
_____

Just prior to the scene in today's excerpt, Deanna Wilder is enrolled in yet another class at WACKED (The Wilton Adult Center for Knowledge and Education). This time it’s Doing Vegas in Style. She’s set up a weekly Texas Hold-em game to help her practice for the final, and the players include obnoxious postal clerk Abigail Watts. Deanna puts up with her snide comments in order to practice against the best player in town. This particular Monday evening, Abigail is a no-show.

AND NOW, AN EXCERPT FROM Special Delivery by Jacqueline Vick:

Deanna Wilder nudged her daughter, Vanessa, with a sharp elbow to the rib-cage. “Stop squirming.”

Vanessa glared at the grandfather clock and said, “You promised I’d be home in time for NCIS. If we start playing now, we have time for a couple of hands.”

“It’s summer. It’s a re-run, for goodness sake.”

Ida Nichols, Deanna’s sister-in-law, shuffled a deck of cards with the skill of a Vegas dealer. “Young people aren’t the only ones with lives. Maybe we should call her again.”

“Yes. Maybe we should.” The woman who so readily agreed with Ida was her fraternal twin, Mabel. Mabel entered the world twenty minutes after her sister and was left to scrounge up whatever attributes Ida had seen fit to leave behind. Mabel stood two inches shorter than her twin, was less striking in appearance and manner, and lacked a mind of her own.

“Abigail didn’t pick up the last three times I called,” Deanna said. “What makes you think four is the magic number?”

“Who cares if she plays?” Vanessa chewed a hangnail on her thumb. “Why can’t we start without her?”

“She’s a good player to practice against,” Deanna admitted. “In fact, I wanted to replace her, but I can’t think of anyone as good. I might have to put up with her for a few more weeks.”

“I’m good.” Ida fanned her cards out and swept them up in one fluid move.

“You have a tell,” Deanna said. “You snort when you have a good hand.”

Roxanne, Deanna’s youngest daughter, had until now suffered the evening in silence. She set down her poker chips and said, “Since you won’t start without Abigail, I’m driving over to her house to see what’s keeping her.”

As the evening’s hostess, Deanna opted to remain behind in case Abigail showed up. She convinced Ida and Mabel to stay, primarily because she couldn’t trust the twins to return.

“I’m going with,” Vanessa said.

The drive across town took ten minutes, ten minutes filled with Vanessa’s complaints about her wasted evening.

“Just because Mother thinks I don’t have a life….” Vanessa fingered her curls. “Well, if I don’t, it’s her fault. Every time she takes a class, I wind up as her guinea pig. Today it’s poker. You watch. Tomorrow it will be mind reading and I won’t have any secrets left.”

“I don’t know why you bother to argue,” Roxanne said. “I just agree with her and do what I want.”

“Then why are you spending Monday night running around town looking for some old hag?”

“You mean instead of learning the finer points of military investigations from Mark Harmon?” Roxanne referred to the handsome star of NCIS.

She turned the Chrysler New Yorker into the driveway of Fourteen Harmony Drive and left the car idling. The windows of the house were dark.

“We probably just missed her.” She instructed Vanessa to wait and then ran up to the front door.
Roxanne might have knocked harder than she intended because the door creaked open after the first hit. She leaned her head in. “Abigail?”

No response.

The car headlamps cast a dim light over the living room, and Roxanne could see the outline of a large lump in the middle of the rug. She felt along the entry wall for a switch.

Blazing light filled the room and exaggerated the purple, bloated features of Abigail Watts. Her large arms were thrown over her head; the hem of her housedress rested in a position to expose the varicose veins threading up her plump thighs. Perhaps the worst element of the scene was a sickeningly sweet odor that hung over the room.

Vanessa appeared at Roxanne’s side. “What’s taking so long?” she asked. Then her eyes followed to where Roxanne pointed.

“I’m going to miss my show, aren’t I?”



______

Jacqueline Vick has been published in Futures Mystery Anthology Magazine, FIDO Friendly Magazine, Every Day Fiction Anthology Two, and various ezines. Her e-novella “The Groom’s Cake” is available through Wicked Ink Press. The e-novellas “Special Delivery” and “The Mystery of the White Revelation” are an introduction to the characters who inhabit the novels Family Matters and The Body Guy, which will be available in 2011. You can learn more about Jacqeline and her books at www.JacquelineVick.com and at her blog JacquelineVickAuthor.blogspot.com

Other books by Jacqueline Vick:

Fleeting Memory by Sherban Young

HAPPY FRIDAY!!!!

I hope everyone will be enjoying their Fourth of July Weekend. I know I will! One note: I will not be posting on Monday. Have fun on the holiday, and meet me back here on Wednesday for another great excerpt.

But now for today's delicacy . . .

I bring you a fun excerpt from Sherban Young's Fleeting Memory. If you like cozy mysteries, you are really going to enjoy this one!

DESCRIPTION:
The answer lies with Keats… With these cryptic last words, the man sprawled out on the floor of the rustic cabin expires - murdered. What could he have meant? Why Keats? Which answer? (For that matter, what was the question?)

All this and more passes through the mind of the young householder who discovers the body. If only he knew the guy’s name. Or anybody’s name. Including his own...

From here, our John Doe is hurtled along a path of self-discovery. With the help of Enescu Fleet, retired private detective and (according to some) the world’s most fascinating man, he will delve into an exciting new game show called Deadly Allusions, where trivia and murder compete for top billing. Along the way, he will attempt to figure out the dead man’s clue - and quite possibly nab a murderer who is too smart for his own good.

What readers are saying:
“If you are looking for a fresh voice in humorous, cozy, caper-like mysteries, you can't go wrong with Sherban Young.” -Brenda Weeaks, MyShelf

And now, an excerpt from Fleeting Memory:

I knelt by the remains. The figure was male, kind of a fireplug in shape, and totally dead. He was wearing a brown wool sweater damp with blood, tan wool trousers and a black scarf, also wool. I put him down as a wool fan. The way his head was cocked had covered his cheek with the scarf and pushed his glasses askew (thick black frames bedewed with tiny droplets of rain water).

Then, of course, there was the crossbow bolt in his chest.

Careful not to add my fingerprints to the evidence - I wasn’t a complete moron - I poked his glasses into place with my trusty pen and slid the scarf down. His face was mustached, ruddy in complexion and rough, like burgundy sandpaper. I didn’t recognize him (no shocker there) and for a minute I sat back on my heels, wondering who could have killed him and why. He seemed like a decent sort, for a corpse.

Suddenly the corpse spoke, and I sprang back from it.

The Maltese pup, pausing to squat and tinkle again, darted from the room, no doubt feeling its presence was no longer required here. It was just me and the dead guy now: apparently not as totally dead as I had figured him. I scooched over and tilted my ear to listen.

“Heat,” I thought I heard him say.

I nodded sympathetically. If I had been a corpse, I probably would have found it pretty nippy in there too. “I’ll call for help,” I whispered.

He shook his head and said “No time,” softly.

Unfortunately I didn’t quite make this out, and replied, equally soft, “Half past eight.”

He glared at me. “Not the time, you ignoramus. No time.”

I had nettled the poor guy. Even still, I didn’t see why he had to get personal about it. He drew me in closer. He might have called me an ignoramus again, I can’t be sure.

“Ka -” he began. “Ka -”

“Ka -” I said with him. Ka. Ka. Was he trying to pronounce ka-ching? First Heat, then sound effects? It didn’t make any sense.

“K-eat-s,” he concluded. Keats! He had been saying Keats, not Heat. He had sort of muffled the “s,” you see, and well, it had really sounded like Heat.

“Keats,” he said more clearly.

I was totally with him now. He was enunciating beautifully. Keats. A man named Keats had evidently shot him or knew who had shot him. “Keats who?” I asked.

He reached up and gripped my shirt.

“The answer - lies - with - Keats,” he told me.

The line was said with such emphasis, with such a resounding weight to the words, that I had no choice but to lean back and consider them in the spirit in which they had been uttered.

The answer lies with Keats. I took it all in.

“What answer?” I asked.

He shook his head again. “Cretin,” he remarked, and was gone.

He was really dead this time. Really dead and kind of rude.
___________



Sherban Young is also the author of The Five Star Detour, Opportunity Slips and Dead Men Do Tell Tales. Like the hero in Fleeting Memory, he has logged many hours inside casinos - research - and frequently spends his off-hours chasing blondes. You can learn more about Sherban and his books at www.MysteryCaper.com.







Other books by Sherban Young:

Excerpt: The Witness Wore Blood Bay by LC Evans

Today's excerpt is from The Witness Wore Blood Bay by LC Evans. If you love humorous mysteries, I HIGHLY RECOMMEND this one! I read it several months ago and absolutely loved it then immediately bought the other book in the series, The Talented Horsewoman. Currently, you can purchase The Witness Wore Blood Bay for only .99 cents, but the price goes back up on May 1st to $2.99.

Description:

In Talented Horsewoman, the first book of the Leigh McRae horse mystery series, main character Leigh McRae discovers a body. She also ends up solving a murder. Along the way she helps her cousin Sammi, who is dating a burglar, and she manages to get out from under the control of her overbearing ex-husband.

Now Leigh's friend Candy, a fellow horsewoman, finds herself accused of murder. Who else would she turn to for help except Leigh? After all, everyone in small town Del Canto knows Leigh has body-discovering experience. Never mind that Leigh is busy finding out who's poisoning dogs in Sammi's neighborhood and she's trying to renovate her home without going broke. Or that her ex-husband Kenneth and former ranchhand Doug Reilly have become roommates in Leigh's guest house.

There's a murder to solve. And her friend won't take no for an answer.

Readers are saying:

"I would put LC Evans in the category of my other favorite mystery writers, Margaret Maron and Janet Evonovich. The Leigh McRae series are set in Florida and revolve around horses, something I know nothing about, but the reader doesn't need to be an equine enthusist to enjoy these books. Ms. Evan explains it all so it is an integral part of the setting, but not required to enjoy the mystery!" - M. Baldwin, Amazon Reader

And now for an excerpt from CHAPTER TWO:

Mark’s hand shook when he picked up his glass. Clearly, his whole world had fallen apart with the arrest of his wife for killing his Army buddy.

“Do you need help taking care of Benji?” I didn’t know what I could do when it came to a special needs child like Benji Lowell. Not only was I pretty booked up with my job and my life, but I knew the boy needed care I wasn’t qualified to give. Still, even spending a few hours with Benji would be helpful to a man suddenly without his wife.

Mark frowned. After a moment he said, “No, but thanks for the offer. As you can imagine, Benji is really in a turmoil. It’s tough on him when his routine is interrupted. He’s staying with my parents in Fort Myers right now.”

“Be sure to let me know if there’s anything at all I can do.”

“Me, too,” Sammi added, leaning forward and smiling kindly.

“Thanks. But I…” Mark put down his drink and got to his feet. He paced to the TV and back. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. Candy hardly knew Richard. At least that’s what I thought. Now I don’t know. I mean, why would she kill him if she didn’t know him? There has to be motive, doesn’t there? Maybe she knew him a lot better than I thought. She did take Benji and leave and she had blood on her clothes when they found her.”

Sammi and I exchanged startled glances. A shiver crept up the back of my neck. Mark believed Candy had committed the murder. He’d as much as said so.

“What evidence do the police have?” I asked. Darn it. I’d said I wasn’t getting involved and here I was asking questions. Hey, not my fault. Mark had brought the subject up.

“I don’t know. We called them right away—Francine and I. They showed up a few minutes after we found Richard’s body in the stable. Of course, I was pretty worried about Candy and Benji since they were missing, but it didn’t take the police long to find them. They brought Benji home and they told me Candy was at the station to answer questions. The police aren’t stupid. They wouldn’t have kept her there unless they found evidence. Or she confessed.”

He made another circuit of the room and ended up back at the couch where he sat and picked up his drink, pausing to stare at the glass before he brought it to his lips. He finally took a long gulp and then set the glass down with a clunk. I wondered if he even knew what he was drinking.

“She needs to lawyer up.” Sammi flipped her hair back over her shoulders and it whipped the side of my face like a horse's tail, so I discreetly slapped her hand. “You don’t know exactly what she did or why, but maybe it was self-defense and if it was, she needs counsel before she incriminates herself even more. Trust me. I read a ton of books and I love watching crime shows, so I’ve seen it all. Plus, I used to date a guy who turned out to be a burglar.”

I rolled my eyes. Only Sammi would think that dating a burglar for a few weeks would qualify a person to give legal advice.

“Did you know,” she went on, “some people are perfectly innocent and they get so tired after a couple of days of questioning by relays of cops that they confess to crimes they never even thought of committing? What chance does your wife have, if she blabs to the cops without her lawyer there to keep her quiet over whatever she might have done?”

Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty? It sounded like Sammi had gone over to the dark side—those who’d already condemned Candy Lowell. Even after listening to Mark's version of events I couldn't make myself believe she'd done it.

“Sammi’s right about the lawyer, Mark. Whatever happened in that stable, Candy deserves a chance to defend herself in court.” I would have suggested my ex sister-in-law Kendra, the only attorney I knew, except that A) she wasn’t a criminal defense attorney and B) I didn’t like her.

“I don’t agree. That bitch killed my husband and I want her to fry!”

Sammi stifled a yelp and I jumped to my feet, almost spilling what was left of my tea. Francine Swale stood in the doorway between the living room and the dining room, her hands on her curvy hips.

I couldn't help staring at what I judged to be a surgically enhanced chest. The woman could have modeled for Playboy if she were fifteen years younger, and if her face weren’t all blotchy from rage. Or from crying—I couldn’t tell which.

“Ladies, this is Francine Swale. She works with me selling cars.” Mark cleared his throat a couple of times.

Yeah, and she was also the murder victim's widow. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he’d much rather we hadn't found out she was in the house and had obviously been there the whole time, lurking out of sight and probably listening.

“Francine, ah, didn’t feel well enough to go home, so she’s been resting in the guest room. Francine, Leigh McRae and her cousin, Sammi Hollister.”

“Hello, Francine.” I didn’t bother to remind her I’d met her before and I’d seen her last night at the horse club meeting—arguing with her husband, who was now dead. “Sorry for your loss.”

Francine’s dark eyes snapped. “So am I. But the police know Candy did it and she’s going to pay one way or the other. I hope she fries like breakfast bacon.” She strode across the room and dropped onto the couch next to Mark, crossing her long legs and not bothering to tug her micro skirt down over her shapely thighs.

I pasted on the stupidest of smiles for lack of anything useful to say or do. I mean, how do you agree with a remark like that without coming across like a vigilante?
There, there, Francine. If the justice system doesn’t do its job, we’ll bring the firewood and some lighter fluid and help you take care of the problem.

And if I didn’t agree, I might send this woman into orbit. Judging by the way she’d spoken and the look in her eyes, I definitely didn’t want to be on Francine Swale’s “People Not to Like List.”
_________

L.C. Evans—Linda to the people who know her, has always wanted to own a stagecoach. Sadly, she has had to settle for the occasional photo op at tourist attractions.

L.C. says she only recently figured out that the main characters in her books are nurturers. Leigh McRae, her bumbling amateur sleuth slash animal lover, and Susan Caraway, divorcee with needy family, are compelled to open their arms and their hearts to every stray who shows up.

"Whoops," L.C. says. "I do that, too. Sort of. Everyone thinks I'm their mom. I've finally learned to say no. Most of the time. By the way, do you need anything? Food, drink? A place to stay?"

Fortunately, she's free to indulge her over-developed nurturing gene with her characters. Leigh McRae has more animals in her barn than she can keep track of and even her ex-husband and the local slacker end up living on her property. Somehow Leigh still carves out time to find bodies and "investigate" murders.

Susan Caraway has to learn to stop being everyone's doormat and finally go on a date that doesn't get interrupted by Mama's hysterics or DeLorean's spoiled younger sister antics. But that doesn't mean Susan is an overnight success. She still has to battle with herself to keep from backsliding. In the upcoming second book of the series, We Interrupt This Wedding, Susan has to find a way to get her mother to the altar with Rhett and to make her own wedding happen.

When not writing, L.C. likes to spend time with her family. She loves being at home with her husband and their grandson, The Boy, and their Chihuahuas. She loves to read and take walks with the dogs. She will also tell you she likes to garden, but that's not really true. L.C. likes to have a nice garden, but she doesn't like to weed or dig holes, or deal with insects, and though she tries to extend her nurturing urges to her plants, she has not exactly been successful. Her blueberry bushes don't bear berries, her azaleas don't bloom, and her rose bushes look sullen. But she loves them anyway.




.99 cents until May 1st!










Other books by LC Evans:

REMINDER Book and a Recipe Book Club is Tomorrow!

Here's your reminder for our last-Friday-of-the-month regular feature:

Book and a Recipe Book Club, featuring the very fun book

Abby Cooper Psychic Eye by Victoria Laurie

This book is FUN and FUNNY and I can't rave enough about it. It was host, Markee Anderson's idea, and boy am I glad she suggested it.

Don't worry if you haven't read the book, we won't do any spoiling, mostly we want you to stop by, talk about books, especially fun mysteries if you like them, and enter a chance to WIN A $10.00 AMAZON GIFT CARD!

That's right, stop by, enjoy a recipe and some chatting - leave a comment and you will get a chance to win a $10.00 Amazon Gift Card.

Tell your friends.

Markee and I look forward to seeing you tomorrow!!!

Excerpt: Executive Sick Days by Maria E. Schneider

I'm so excited to be bringing you this excerpt today - Executive Sick Days by Maria E. Schneider. Executive Sick Days is book three in Maria's Sedona O'Hala Mystery Series. I have read the first, Executive Lunch (HIGHLY RECOMMENDED!) and am in the middle of the second (okay, I'm a little behind) Executive Retention, and am loving it just as much. The stories are funny and original and what I love most is Sedona herself. Funny, funny, funny. She makes me laugh at nearly every turn of the page.

DESCRIPTION:

Steve Huntington had a way of offering jobs that were too good to be true. Mark Huntington made offers too good to turn down. Sedona had a habit of being caught in the middle; somewhere in the proximity of bad guys with guns and family members she was trying to avoid.

Good thing the latest case involved a hospital. Then again, not all hospital personnel were interested in the lasting health of the patients…or that of their co-workers.

What readers are saying:

"I can't say enough good things about this book and this series. If you're looking for something to make you laugh and offer you a good, solid mystery, along with some romance, look no further. Executive Sick Days delivers that and more." - Annie B (Amazon Customer Review)

And now, CHAPTER ONE of Executive Sick Days:


Decisions, decisions. It was flattering to have everyone want me, but it was also a little frustrating. My head was currently swelled with the privilege of choosing between working for two computer companies: Strandfrost or Acetel. Strandfrost tried to fire me, but then relented. They feared a lawsuit because they mistakenly believed I was pregnant. To avoid the non-existent lawsuit, they offered me my job back at my old salary. I could live almost lavishly right until they realized that my sister-in-law was pregnant, not me.

Acetel, on the other hand, had never fired me, but my boss, Jacques, was back in residence after having recently survived his heart attack. I wasn't sure I wanted to be around for his next one. More to the point, I didn't want to be responsible for his next one.

The pay was better at Strandfrost, but I'd definitely be on rockier ground. Unfortunately, I was not certain Acetel paid enough to cover my lifestyle. It wasn't that my lifestyle was extravagant, but it did include me, a single woman, making payments on a small two-bedroom patio home.

I wouldn't have been working at Acetel at all had it not been for the nemesis in my life: Steve Huntington, undercover investigator of corporate issues. He'd had the brilliant idea that I could work at Acetel and discover who was pilfering money from the company coffers. That had been great, but once the case was solved, Huntington stopped supplementing Acetel's not-so-generous salary. I could make my house and car payment on Acetel's salary, but only if I didn't eat.

Of course, Strandfrost was a riskier job overall because if I was fired again, there would be no income at all, and that would really put a rumble in my stomach.

Instead of weighing the pros and cons of my problem, I used my Saturday to peruse Hawaiian brochures. Both Strandfrost and Acetel would be closed for the week of Christmas and since my parents had just visited for Thanksgiving, I had fulfilled my daughterly holiday obligations. Hawaii seemed like an awesome way to celebrate Christmas. Denton, Colorado was heaven for skiers, but not for beach-going, and I was really looking forward to trying out the latter.

The phone rang, rudely interrupting my daydreams. Since it wasn't likely to be a travel agent with free tickets to Hawaii, I was inclined to ignore it.

Curiosity was going to kill me someday.

The voice on the other end was that of my sister-in-law, Brenda O'Hala. I spontaneously started praying that she wasn't cooking anything.

"Hi Sedona! Remember when, uh, Huntington got shot and ended up in my living room?" Brenda whispered, a habit she had picked up after she became pregnant. In this case, however, she was probably keeping her voice low because she was discussing one of my more unsuitable acquaintances.

"It would be rather hard to forget." I accidentally tugged too hard on my ponytail holder. Flyaway brown hair suddenly obscured my vision, but didn't inhibit my hearing.

"Well, yeah, for me I'm sure, but you're involved in a lot of that sort of thing."

Patently untrue. I was never involved in underhanded, thieving, dangerous or ridiculous capers, at least not on a regular basis. In fact, I never had been at all until I met Steve Huntington. He had a way of bringing out the worst in me. His brother Mark brought something out in me too, but my feelings for him were even more alarming. Mark was…dangerous. Dangerously handsome, sexy and I was finding, dangerously irresistible. That didn't mean I shouldn't stay away.

"Do you remember when Mark mentioned the investigation at Crestwood Hospital?" Brenda asked.

It was understandable that Brenda remembered the comment. As a part-time nurse at Crestwood, she was there all day, every Thursday and Friday. "Yes, why?"

"I've been doing some digging," she continued. "And I think I know what they are investigating."

Now that got me up out of my chair. The brochures scattered across the table as I changed grips on the phone. "What?" Brenda involved in anything remotely resembling "investigating" could get me thrown in jail by my overprotective and just-so-happened-to-be-a-lawyer-brother, Sean. "Brenda, are you crazy?" Perhaps pregnancy had used up all her available brain cells or maybe they had transferred to the baby, leaving her senseless. "Do I have to remind you that the last case resulted in Huntington getting shot, and he wouldn't let us take him to the hospital? You're pregnant! You can't go around looking into things!"

There was silence for several seconds before she responded, her voice meek. "I just checked on a very few things. I've seen Huntington--Steve--there now and again lately so I know he is still working on a case. And I have access to records--"

"Have you mentioned this activity to Sean?" Just how long did I have to get on a plane to Hawaii before my brother came after me?

"Of course not! He'd have a fit!"

More like a diabolical plan to have me committed to a mental institution where his wife couldn't contact me. "Brenda," I squeaked out, "I really don't think you looking at records is a good idea."

"I know. I'm not supposed to access them, and if the supervisor finds out she'll fire me. We're only supposed to look at what is pertinent to patient care on our own patients. And I saw Radar the other day, so I figured he was probably investigating anyway, so what does Huntington need me for?"

My heart, already beating fast, went into overdrive. "You saw Radar at the hospital?" I had assumed Radar had gone back to San Jose. He had quit Acetel, and I was furious with him for leaving without a word of good-bye. Not that we were close friends, but I felt basic courtesy counted for something. "When did you see him?"

"Just yesterday. I'm positive he works at Crestwood now in the IT department."

My big head, inflated over two possible job offers and the successful solving of the crimes at Acetel, shriveled. Huntington had hired Radar to help with the case at the hospital. And I hadn't heard from Huntington since the Acetel incident had ended over two weeks ago. My heart slowed. I slumped back onto the tabletop, scattering what was left of the brochures onto the floor.

It was true that Radar was more capable than me. He could hack his way into God's own database. His expertise was the primary reason we had been able to solve the case at Acetel. He probably didn't argue about how to investigate things either. But…I was unreasonably hurt.

Huntington was often recruited to solve corporate cases because executives and board members preferred someone who spoke their language. It also let companies investigate without calling in nosy authorities such as police, FBI or heaven forbid, the IRS. Unfortunately for Huntington, since he was busy schmoozing with the upper echelons, he had to hire someone else to mingle with regular employees and sniff out suspicious characters. That had been my job, and I had helped him solve the cases.

But it appeared I had been replaced. Summarily pushed aside by…better talent. I sighed. My two job prospects were already less than ideal. This news made them look even more like booby prize.

"So I was wondering," Brenda broke into my depression, "do you think I should tell Huntington or Radar what I've found?"

A tingle of hope or...stupidity...started up my spine. "Well," I said slowly, sitting back upright, "that really depends upon what you've found, doesn't it?"
_____________

Maria writes cozy mysteries, cozy fantasy and has recently published "Under Witch Moon," the first book in an Urban Fantasy series. Not only does she concoct stories, she cooks, gardens and avoids anything resembling spring cleaning. Check out her latest endeavors at her blog: www.BearMountainBooks.com.

The Series: Book 1, Executive Lunch; Book 2, Executive Retention; Book 3, Executive Sick Days



Also on Nook:

Executive Lunch
Executive Retention
Executive Sick Days







Other books by Maria E. Schneider: