Goldenrod for Gunman by C.R. Fulton


About the Book

FRAMED FOR ASSASSINATION

When professional sharp shooter Sydney Smith is in Cincinnati for a gun show, a senator is killed by a sniper. Sydney is horrified to find herself the prime suspect, and it takes all her essential oils and the help of a mysterious man to keep her from being falsely imprisoned. With the evidence stacked against her, she must prove her innocence before the real clues are erased.

REAPPEARANCE OF AN OLD

FLAME Sparks fly when Harper Wasden, a highly capable Navy Seal, makes his presence known. Can they repair a prior misunderstanding while they work on clearing her name? The stakes have never been higher, and it will take every last drop of peppermint oil and ingenuity to come out on top.

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Excerpt

Monday 7:00 A.M. March 28th.

For the top female sharp shooter in the U.S., getting a hotel key into the slot should be easy, but this morning, it eludes me. I’d very nearly been born on horseback, and ranching in Montana teaches you one thing, never give up. Maybe that’s the problem, I’ve been in the city to long. I reach into the hotel room, grab the bag I’d forgotten, and stack it on the others.

 “Ma’am.” I ignore the distant voice as the hotel luggage cart runs over my foot.

“Ouch.” I rub my forehead, my mouth feels like it’s stuffed with cotton balls, as I leave room 402. The grogginess is so foreign, I don’t know how to cope with it.

“Ma’am, excuse me.” I punch the elevator button a little too hard, my flight back to Atlanta leaves in three hours.

“Come on.” I mutter, ready to put Cincinnati behind me. Teaching at the gun show had been great, but I’m ready for my familiar apartment.

“Ma’am!” The voice is growing closer. My brain feels like mush as I look down the hall to find a bellhop running toward me. Is that my gun case he’s holding? I shift my bags on the cart, searching. Sure enough my case is absent. Sydney Smith you are slipping.

“You dropped this.” He says in a thick Hispanic accent.

“Oh, thank you. That’s one bag I wouldn’t want to lose.” I say, horrified at my thoughtlessness. I struggle against the disorientating feeling that’s gripped me since I woke up.

“Have a nice…” We both look up, searching the hallway, as a muffled pop interrupts his words. “Day.” He ends flatly, scowling down the hall. I’d say it was a gun, shot through a Ruger silencer. I push off the thought, probably be hearing gunshots in my sleep after working the B&E gun show all weekend.

“You too, thanks again.” I say as he heads off down the hall. The elevator dings and I step in, stomach rolling hard as the elevator drops. I pull out my phone, 7:04 March 28th. Just enough time to grab a caramel macchiato before my flight. Hope the caffeine will clear the unfamiliar pounding in my head.

I sigh, back to Atlanta and Brian. We’ve been dating for six months. I try to erase my frown. He’s no Harper Wasden that’s for sure. I sigh deeply, it’s an old argument I’ve had with myself a million times. Wasden’s not part of your life anymore, Brian is.

I trade my room key for a receipt and soon enough I’m inhaling the tantalizing scent of coffee and donuts. I stand in a long line of people, my travel bags taking up way too much space in the small shop. I set my gun case on the tips of my cowboy boots and pull my hoodie sleeves over my hands, longing for a hot cup.

I shake my head, struggling against the syrupy feeling in my muscles. When I have enough space, I’ll dig my peppermint essential oil out of my backpack, that will help. The television blinks as a serious faced reporter says, “breaking news this morning, Senator Doug Sullivan has been assassinated near the Roebling suspension bridge in Cincinnati Ohio.” I’d looked at the beautiful lights on that very bridge from my room last night.

My mouth hangs open as he continues. “Authorities have issued a warrant for Sydney Smith, the prime suspect in this case.” Time grinds to a halt as my concealed carry photo flashes on the screen. My shoulders shrink forward as the reporter continues.

 “Caucasian, 5’6” brown hair and eyes, she is presumed to be armed and dangerous. As a professional ammunition maker and a skilled marksman, the public should use utmost caution. Any sighting should be immediately reported to the FBI.” A link and phone number scroll across the screen.

“Republican Sen. Doug Sullivan age 65, died instantly when he was shot in his car as his driver was stopped at the foot of the bridge, due to an accident.” 

I stand still as stone watching the picture roll from the Senator’s kind face to a photo of me in a Carhart hoodie and boots taking aim at a target. My gun case is sitting on the same pair of boots, my favorite ones.


About the Author

C.R. Fulton travels the east coast in an RV with her husband, two kids, and two dogs, Atlantic and Ocean. She is also an essential oil lover, so marring oils with murder mystery writing seemed natural. She is the author of A Drop of Mystery, (a cozy mystery series with essential oils at their heart) The light of Andrea, a Robin Hood style action adventure series, and a spiritual thriller due in the 2021, and a best-selling kids series, The Campground kids. Acrylic painting fuels her writing creativity, homeschooling her children keeps her sharp, but Jesus is the center of it all.

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7 comments:

  1. Great excerpt. This looks like it would be good.

    ReplyDelete
  2. You are a new offer to me-after reading the excerpt- I am Hooked

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  3. This sounds like it would be an interesting book.

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  4. Great excerpt, Goldenrod for Gunman sounds like a great book to read!

    Thanks for sharing it with me and have a terrific day!

    ReplyDelete