About the Book
I wrote murder mysteries. I didn’t investigate them. Until now…Crime writer turned amateur sleuth, Jen, has taken over the running of the local bookstore in her hometown of Riddleton.
But balancing the books at Ravenous Readers is nothing compared to meeting the deadline for her new novel.
Dodging phone calls from her editor takes a back seat, however, when the local police chief is poisoned. To solve the murder, Jen must dust off her detective hat once more.
With everyone in town seemingly a suspect, and evidence planted to incriminate local police officer and close friend Eric, Jen is working against the clock. Can she find the killer and beat her own writer’s block before it’s too late?
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Excerpt
By the last Saturday in June, outdoor activities in
Riddleton, South Carolina, were like a bad marriage. You could survive more or
less unscathed if you got out early enough. Wait too long, though, and it
turned to hell in a hurry. With that in mind, today’s Riddleton 10k began at
six in the morning. Two cups of coffee short of complete brain function, my
caffeine-deprived body was camped out on the sidewalk in front of the town
hall, at the finish line.
Throngs gathered along the race route to cheer on the
runners, and my ears vibrated with the echoes of a hundred conversations, which
played snare drum in my head. Mostly arguments about who would win the
competition. Although, a young couple behind me argued over whether to spend
money they didn’t have on a new fifty-inch flat-screen on clearance at Walmart.
No surprise, he was the yes, she the no.
Once a stagecoach rest stop halfway between Blackburn and
Sutton, Riddleton had grown when engineers built the dam to create Lake Dester.
It remained a small town, though, rife with the typical small-town mentality.
Everyone knew everything about everyone else, and help during troubled times
was never more than an arm’s length away. It suffocated me as a kid growing up
here, and I couldn’t wait to escape to college in Blackburn. When I moved back
to town last year, however, I learned how reassuring having people around who
cared about me could be.
However, surrounded by densely packed humanity, I shifted my
feet and struggled with what to do with my hands. No room in the pockets of my
getting-tighter-everyday jeans, so I lowered them to my sides. Unfortunately,
my puppy Savannah’s leash occupied one of them.
“Ouch!” A tiny drop of blood welled on my index finger. I
stuck the offended digit in my mouth and glanced down. My German shepherd puppy
fixed her warm brown eyes on me, ears back, tail wagging. I squatted to her
level. “Now see here, Savannah, just because you own a maw full of razor blades
doesn’t mean you’re allowed to slice me to ribbons every time you want a little
attention.”
She licked my cheek, her silver muzzle prickly against my
skin. So much for scolding.
Brittany Dunlop, her flyaway blond hair taking off in the
breeze, squeezed in beside us. “A kiss counts as an apology, wouldn’t you say,
Jen?”
Brittany had adopted me in kindergarten, and we’d remained
best friends ever since. Although she topped the tape measure at a whopping
five foot two, she was a formidable presence in my life, and I don’t know how I
would’ve survived my childhood without her. The voice of sanity whispering in
my ear when my stepfather Gary was having one of his out-of-control days, and
home became crazy town.
Savannah leaped towards her in greeting, and her tongue
flared like a lizard snapping breakfast off a branch. Brittany yanked her hands
out of the danger zone and clasped them behind her back, having already
experienced her share of rapier-like love nips.
“Close to one as I’m going to get, I’m sure.” I told the pup
to sit, then pushed gently on her hindquarters until she complied and leaned on
my leg, tongue dripping saliva on my brand-new Nike cross-trainer. The exercise
was a trial for us both, given the distraction of the masses around us. “She
needs to potty, but escaping the crowd will be an adventure.”
“Want me to run interference for you? I’m a librarian,
remember? People have to listen to me, or I’ll shush them.” Brittany knelt to
scratch Savannah’s chest, an offer of some much-needed attention to the
self-proclaimed neglected puppy.
“No, you hold our place. I want to see Eric win.” Eric
O’Malley—the tall, lanky, red-headed leader of the Riddleton Runners, a group
I’d reluctantly joined last year—also represented the police department as a
patrol officer. No question about which role meant more to him today, though.
He chased the finish line like it was an armed robbery suspect trying to get
away.
Brittany pursed her thin lips and inched her oversized,
tiger-striped glasses back up to the bridge of her nose. “You think he’s fast
enough?”
“Hard to say, but a win would mean a lot to him. Besides,
I’ve learned to appreciate his friendship, so I should root for him, don’t you
think?”
She raised her so-pale-they-could-barely-be-seen-in-the-sunlight eyebrows. “Yeah, like that’s the only reason.”
About the Author
Sue is a member of Sisters in Crime, Mystery Writers of America, and the Crime Writer's Association. When she isn't writing, you can find her reading, watching old movies, or hiking the New Mexico desert with her furry best friend.
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This book looks like it would be fun to read.
ReplyDeleteintriguing
ReplyDeleteSounds good.
ReplyDeleteHow long did it take you to get your first novel published ?
ReplyDeleteI like the cover
ReplyDeleteSue, Where in the New Mexico desert do you and your furry friend (dog?) hike? Do you live near there? I'm originally from New Mexico -- born in Tucumcari, moved to Albuquerque as a sophomore in high school, graduated college at ENMU.
ReplyDeleteThis story sounds interesting, and I'd love to read it.
I enjoyed reading the except.
ReplyDelete