EXCERPT:
Before she could get out the back
door to head to her hotel for a nap, Mrs. Whedon stepped in her path. The older
woman crossed her arms and gave Yarn Goddess a hard stare.
I shivered.
More surprising was that the mean
billionaire stopped to listen. I stepped down from the register and crossed the
store quickly, prepared to tackle Mrs. Whedon if things became physical.
“You’re hurting people,” Mrs.
Whedon said.
“I have no idea what you’re talking
about. Everything in my company is made in America, and we use top-of-the-line
dyes.”
Mrs. Whedon was in her eighties—at
least—but she had a fancier cell phone than I did. She popped her phone in
front of Yarn Goddess’s face. “These are pictures of people who have had
reactions to your new line of yarn. You’re selling it at an idiotic price and
you’re hurting your customers. You used to stand for something. But people need
to know the truth and I’m going to lead the charge.”
“People are always trying to sue
people who have money. It’s nothing new. They could have touched poison ivy or
any number of things. Doesn’t mean it came from my yarn.”
Mrs. Whedon’s jaw tightened. “All
I’m asking you is to do a bit of research. You know what something like this
could do to your business. I realize you’re probably richer than Oprah by now,
but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t put out a quality product.”
Hilary came in from the back of the
store, with a look of sheer panic. She’d probably been waiting for her boss.
“Ma’am,” Hilary said to Mrs.
Whedon, “I’m sorry but we have to keep moving.” She’d moved around to put a
hand on her boss’s back.
The octogenarian—or perhaps
nonagenarian—didn’t budge. Part of me was proud of her, the other part
mortified.
I was about to move forward but
stopped when Mrs. Whedon held up a hand. “Promise me you’ll look into it.”
“I will,” the billionaire said. “I
promise.”
I almost fainted.
Excerpt:
He told me not to say anything to anyone until he came back
for me. The cup rattled as my hands shook again. A bone-chilling cold that no
amount of heat would warm had settled in me. But I was alert and focused on
everything going on around me. No way was I going to be the victim of another
crime and leave justice and investigation to those not involved.
Plus, I’d worked too hard on the grand opening of Bless Your Art and I refused to let everyone down. I needed to figure out exactly what was going on.
The man Michael had been arguing with earlier in the day was dead in the park, part of his head bashed in, and his eyes staring straight ahead.
That image would be burned into my brain for the rest of my life.
No one deserved to go like that. Not even this guy with his jerky attitude and bullying tactics.
“Can I get you anything else?” Maria asked. She’d been down
the street at the grocery with her daughter Samantha when they’d seen all the
flashing lights. “Tell me what I can do.”
I shook my head. There was a dead body. I wouldn’t get in the way of my brother’s investigation by gossiping about what I’d seen. Besides, talking wasn’t something I could even do at the moment.
My mind whirled with questions. Who else did that guy make so mad they wanted to kill him? Was it random? Was there some crazy in town who could possibly endanger all the people I’d come to love over the last year? I couldn’t stand the thought of all my friends in mortal danger.
“Girl, I can’t believe this happened. The last murder was
nearly forty years ago,” Maria said.
“Mom,” Samantha murmured, “I’m worried about Ms. McGregor.
She’s just staring straight ahead, and she hasn’t blinked in a really long
time.” Samantha was a freshman at the high school, a book nerd and as
kindhearted as her mother.
“She’s in shock,” Maria said from beside me. “Maybe we should call a doctor or take her to the hospital.”
Ugh. Hospitals were awful places, at least for me. The last time I’d been in one was Chicago. I’d woken up there alone and scared after the mugger had hit me so hard with his gun, I had a concussion.
I shook my head. I needed to at least appear normal. I forced myself to blink.
George, who had been leaning into me while I sat in the chair, put his head in my lap and sighed—a deep, comforting sound out of his big barrel chest.
“Good dog,” I said with a shaky voice. I cleared my throat. “I’m fine. I—my brother asked me not to say anything until he has a chance to talk to me.”
Liked the covers and descriptions of your books. Looking forward to reading them. Thanks.
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