Tag Archives: LGBTQ

The Devil’s Necromancer Sale Blitz

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Paranormal Romance, Dark Fantasy, LGBTQ, Murder Mystery

Date Published: October 2021

 

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On Sale for $0.99 for a limited time

Lionel, a necromancer and consultant for the Brunswick Police Department,
wants nothing to do with immortals. Specifically, he wants nothing to do
with Lucifer, who shows up on his doorstep one day with a ridiculous
proposal. Lucifer, also known as the Devil, wants Lionel to be his pretend
boyfriend. Except the pretend part is something the Devil doesn’t
really seem to care for.

Lucifer has read enough romance novels to know that a good dose of forced
proximity might be just the thing to get the stubborn necromancer he desires
into his bed. The Devil’s plans are soon complicated when Lionel
proves more uncooperative and oblivious to love than Lucifer could ever
anticipate.

While the Devil wants to claim Lionel, all Lionel wants is to get away from
Lucifer. Meanwhile, magic users are being murdered in the city. Lionel
cannot escape the implications of those murders for long, and the case soon
takes a different turn. Will Lionel be able to escape the Devil’s
thrall, or will the necromancer fall for the immortal seducer?

 

Publisher’s Note: The Devil’s Necromancer contains scenes
involving dubious consent that some readers may find offensive.

 

EXCERPT

Copyright ©2021 Alexa Piper

 

It was past midnight, and the stars that looked like sprinkles of white
chocolate in the velvety dark night sky were overshadowed by the city lights
and the waxing moon. I lay on the embankment, North Bridge’s metal
frame rising just to my right and further hiding the chocolate sprinkle
stars. My feet were wet, but I didn’t mind, not the embankment or the
wet feet or the stars melting away in the light and the artificial
structures around me. The zombie was oozing all over me from its — his —
caved-in skull, and I did mind that. Zombie ooze was a bitch to get out of
clothes, even if I’d given up on wearing colors years ago. Black
simply was the safest bet for a necromancer.

Zombies reeked when they weren’t really fresh, and this one was ripe
— fish-market-in-the-summer-heat-three-days-after-closing ripe. I looked up
and considered my life choices, all of which had led me here.

“Do you need CPR?” someone said. It was a warm, manly voice,
and I was reasonably sure it could make chocolate melt, star-shaped or
otherwise.

I stuffed my self-pity away and turned my head to get a better look at the
speaker. He was as handsome as a devil, with skin that looked like marble in
the glow of the city at night. His hair shimmered liquid black, but it might
have been some shade of brown in proper lighting. It went well past his ears
and looked styled with care to get that messy, I just got up out of bed
after a night of hard fucking look.

“Why the fuck would I need CPR?” I asked. My voice didn’t
sound like I’d just considered crying a moment ago, and I was proud of
that.

The guy shrugged. “It’s hard to tell with humans. Your kind is
so accident prone, and you seem to be having trouble breathing. Or maybe you
hit your head? Do you remember how you got here?”

Did he fucking think I was suffering from amnesia or a head injury or
something? “I’m having trouble breathing because I have a
fucking dead zombie on my chest, asshat,” I said. In my considered
necromantic opinion, I was being perfectly polite, even though I
couldn’t be sure what kind of creature the guy was. I’d given
him a quick glance with my mage sight, and human he was not.

Jeez, I hated gods and otherworldly beings.

“All zombies are dead,” Mr. Sexy said. “It’s a
prerequisite. This one seems to have had its brainstem properly destroyed,
however.”

“Oh, smarty-pants, thanks a bunch for the lecture. The basics of
necromancy have ever escaped me, even after I raised my very first corpse
thirteen fucking years ago.” It had been a blackbird that had died
when he crashed into a window at my school. I had cradled the poor thing in
my hands as it breathed its last, had cried, and that had triggered my
necromancer power. Pretty boy did not need to know that. Every other person
I’d ever told had made fun of me for it.

“You could have suffered a head injury with amnesia. How am I
supposed to know what you know?” He walked toward me. His movements
were silent, cat-like, and more elegant than was right. Even despite the
zombie oozing out on me, my cock couldn’t quite ignore him. Seriously,
though, what was up with his fixation on first aid and amnesia?

He grabbed the zombie by the legs and pulled the dead-dead corpse off me.
“Oh. You caved in its skull with a rock,” he said when he saw
the murder weapon in question, the goo glistening on its stony surface.
Well, it wasn’t really a murder weapon, seeing as how the zombie had
been dead, but details. “How traditional.” He held out a hand to
me, and I took it and let him pull me back to my feet. “I’m
Lucy, by the way. Short for Lucifer, but I prefer Lucy. As in Lucy Westenra,
the woman who almost single-handedly turned Dracula into the first reverse
harem romance novel ever before she made the wise decision to claim
immortality instead. She was such an underrated character, and I really
don’t know why people don’t like her more.”

I dusted myself off. Didn’t help with the wet feet or the zombie
ooze, which I really only distributed, like soft butter on hot toast. The
shirt I was wearing was ruined. Good thing I had a dozen other plain black
shirts just like it back home. “Maybe because she fucking ate
children.”

He shrugged. “Well, everyone has a craving now and then. No one
judges women’s monthly chocolate cravings, and I don’t see how
that was so much worse.”

My brain caught up with the conversation. Lucifer? The Lucifer? The fucking
Morning Star, seducer of stuffy virgins and lover of apples? I looked at
him. Up at him. Asshole was tall and handsome, the kind of guy I could only
ever talk to with about three drinks in me. “You’re the Devil?
Satan? Beelzebub?”

“Lu-cy,” he said, slowing down as if he was reconsidering the
brain damage thing. Even his eyebrows were perfect, which I only noticed
because he pulled one of those up, something most people couldn’t do
in real life. He could. And he looked hot doing it. Hotter.

About the Author

Alexa Piper writes steamy romance that ranges from light to dark, from
straight to queer. She’s also a coffee addict. Alexa loves writing
stories that make her readers laugh and fall in love with the characters in
them. Connect with Alexa on Facebook or Instagram, follow her on Twitter or
TikTok, and subscribe to her newsletter!

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Neon Lieben Blitz

 

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Lieben Cycle, Book 1

 

Science Fiction, Cyberpunk, LGBTQ

 

Release Date: August 22, 2021

Publisher:Vræyda Literary

2085 The world recovers from War. A squeal of tires chases Dr. Dieter Karnak, as he creates artificial life under his corporate partner’s begrudging nose. Dr. Robert Dunlevy doesn’t buy into such spiritual nonsense. He builds god damned machines, the way their Conglom overlords want. Karnak’s beloved intern Baiko hatches a plan to steal Lieben, before she becomes a corporate ploy.

2155 AD-001 swims to the shore of Vancouver Island. Lieutenant Max Allard is tasked to drag AD-001 back, before the Mater Machine claims ‘it’ for her own.

AI meets genetic engineering, when the Idless, a collective of anti-label anarchists, attempt to free Dr. Karnak’s android Lieben from the Conglomerate. 70 years later, gene-spliced super soldier AD-001 sees humans for the first time. A spiral of origins chase Lieben’s ghost in this sci-fi cyberpunk adventure…

Come at your leisure. My love is free. My abundance is yours.’

Neon Lieben phone


About the Author

Sapha Burnell

Sapha is like a young Wolfgang Pauli, in every laboratory he went, there was a little explosion” – David Roomy, Author of Inner Work in the Wounded and Creative: The Dream in the Body

Cyberpunk & mythology aficionado Sapha Burnell teethed on images of the Berlin Wall falling down. Steeped in divergent cultures, religion & gender roles, the Wild One dedicates her work to the dichotomy between science and spirit.

Author of The Judge of Mystics Series: Son of Abel (2017) & Usurper Kings (2014), Sapha speaks on martial arts in pop culture, comparative mythology, the craft of writing, using film director techniques as an editor, and being LGBTQ in a religious setting. The first in the Lieben Cycle, NEON Lieben inspects artificial intelligence, the rise of quantum computing & genetic engineering in a novel spanning two timelines.

Visit Sapha at www.saphaburnell.com on her Discord Server, or on Twitter, Twitch & Instagram @UsurperKings.

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A Light to Kill By Virtual Book Tour

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Book 3 of the Mourning Dove Mysteries Series

 

Mystery, LGBTQ

 

Date Published: August 3, 2021

Publisher: Acorn Publishing

Emory Rome is back in A Light to Kill By, the third book in the Mourning Dove Mysteries series – a follow-up to the international bestsellers Murder on the Lake of Fire and Death Opens a Window.

Moments after construction tycoon Blair Geister’s death, a mysterious wandering light kills someone else on her Southern estate. Is the avenging spirit of the millionairess on a killing spree, or are other forces threatening those in her inner circle? As the will is read, suspicion and jealousy arise, and fingers point to the heirs of her fortune. Private investigator Emory Rome and his Mourning Dove partners accept an invitation to stay at Geisterhaus and unravel its secrets before more lives are lost.

MURDER ON THE LAKE OF FIRE cover

 

At twenty-three and with a notorious case under his belt, Emory Rome has already garnered fame as a talented special agent for the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation. His career is leapfrogging over his colleagues, but the jumping stops when he’s assigned a case he fought to avoid – an eerie murder in the Smoky Mountain hometown he had abandoned. The mysterious death of a teen ice-skater once destined for the pros is soon followed by an apparent case of spontaneous human combustion. In a small town bursting with friends and foes, Rome’s own secrets lie just beneath the surface. The rush to find the murderer before he strikes again pits him against artful private investigator Jeff Woodard. The PI is handsome, smart and seductive, and he just might be the killer Rome is seeking.

 

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DEATH OPENS A WINDOW cover

 

Emory Rome is back in DEATH OPENS A WINDOW, Book 2 of the Mourning Dove Mysteries and the follow-up to the international bestseller MURDER ON THE LAKE OF FIRE.

 

As he struggles with the consequences of his last case, Emory must unravel the inexplicable death of a federal employee in a Knoxville high-rise. But while the reticent investigator is mired in a deep pool of suspects – from an old mountain witch to the powerful Tennessee Valley Authority – he misses a greater danger creeping from the shadows. The man in the ski mask returns to reveal himself, and the shocking crime of someone close is unearthed.

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A Light to Kill By tablet

Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

I know who the killer is.

Juniper Crane’s yawn morphed into a gasp as she watched the masked ripper slash the throat of a young girl, silencing her screams.

Great, I’m never going to be able to sleep now.

The fiftyish woman with flowing brown hair reached for the joint in the Dollywood souvenir ashtray on her nightstand. She relit it and sucked the flame down to her coral-painted nails before returning it to the ashtray. Her exhaled smoke drifted up to the light smog lurking beneath the ceiling of her bedroom – one of the smallest at the Geisterhaus estate.

I need to turn this off. Grabbing the remote next to the ashtray, she instead set the sleep timer for the TV mounted on the wall. As the masked villain chased down another victim, Juniper sunk deeper into the gray flannel sheets of her bed and closed her hazel eyes. The movie’s staccato score tensed her grip on the downy quilt clutched at her neck until the violin flourishes distorted into static.

“What happened?” Juniper unclenched her eyes and saw the screen go blank. “Is the cable out?” The middle of the screen bulged out. “Oh my lord!” She jerked up in bed. “What is that?”

A volleyball-sized sphere of white light bubbled out from the screen and separated from the TV. Dozens of tiny tendrils reached out from the orb at random points along its surface, giving it the appearance of a miniature sun.

Juniper screamed and kicked out of the sheets, backing herself into the headboard.

Her bedroom door burst open, and a dark-haired man in flannel pajamas bolted inside. “Ms. Crane, what’s…” Tommy Addison’s voice trailed off when he saw the reason for her fear. “What the hell is that?”

The orb floated across the room toward the door, and Tommy approached it, extending his hand.

“Tommy, what are you doing?” Juniper jumped off the opposite side of the bed. “Don’t touch it!” Her warning came too late.

Two tendrils reached out to Tommy’s fingertips, and an enormous POP! followed a flash of light.

The force of the explosion shoved Juniper’s back against the wall before dropping her to the floor. Ears ringing, she pushed herself up enough to peek over the bed. It’s gone.

“Tommy?” She rose to her feet and shuffled over the hardwood floors, looking around the room. “Tommy, where are you?”

Once on the other side of the bed, she spotted a body in the hallway just beyond her open bedroom door. “Tommy!”

The man’s body settled into stillness, and his vacant eyes locked onto the ceiling – although Juniper felt them watching her as she rushed to his side.

“No, no, no, no.” Juniper cupped her mouth as tears dripped from her cheeks. She retrieved her phone and called 9-1-1. While imploring the operator for help, she hurried up two flights of stairs to her employer’s closed bedroom door. “Ms. Geister!” Her knuckles thumped against the solid oak. “Ms. Geister, it’s an emergency!” Hearing no response, she turned the copper knob and rushed inside.

“Ms. Geister!” Juniper shook the shoulder of the unresponsive woman lying on her side within the gold bedframe, and yet she didn’t respond. She clicked on the nightstand lamp and pulled the sleeping woman’s shoulder to roll her onto her back.

As Blair Geister’s head turned on the overstuffed pillow, a final breath whistled through her gritted teeth.

About The Author

Mikel J. Wilson

Award-winning mystery author Mikel J. Wilson draws on his Southern roots for the international bestselling Mourning Dove Mysteries, a series of novels featuring bizarre murders in the Smoky Mountains region of Tennessee. Wilson adheres to a “no guns or knives” policy for the instigating murders in the series.

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A Light to Kill By Blitz

 

A Light to Kill By cover

 

Book 3 of the Mourning Dove Mysteries Series

 

Mystery, LGBTQ

 

Date Published: August 3, 2021

Publisher: Acorn Publishing

Emory Rome is back in A Light to Kill By, the third book in the Mourning Dove Mysteries series – a follow-up to the international bestsellers Murder on the Lake of Fire and Death Opens a Window.

Moments after construction tycoon Blair Geister’s death, a mysterious wandering light kills someone else on her Southern estate. Is the avenging spirit of the millionairess on a killing spree, or are other forces threatening those in her inner circle? As the will is read, suspicion and jealousy arise, and fingers point to the heirs of her fortune. Private investigator Emory Rome and his Mourning Dove partners accept an invitation to stay at Geisterhaus and unravel its secrets before more lives are lost.

Murder on the Lake of Fire cover

 

At twenty-three and with a notorious case under his belt, Emory Rome has already garnered fame as a talented special agent for the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation. His career is leapfrogging over his colleagues, but the jumping stops when he’s assigned a case he fought to avoid – an eerie murder in the Smoky Mountain hometown he had abandoned. The mysterious death of a teen ice-skater once destined for the pros is soon followed by an apparent case of spontaneous human combustion. In a small town bursting with friends and foes, Rome’s own secrets lie just beneath the surface. The rush to find the murderer before he strikes again pits him against artful private investigator Jeff Woodard. The PI is handsome, smart and seductive, and he just might be the killer Rome is seeking.

 

Amazon

DEATH OPENS A WINDOW cover

 

Emory Rome is back in DEATH OPENS A WINDOW, Book 2 of the Mourning Dove Mysteries and the follow-up to the international bestseller MURDER ON THE LAKE OF FIRE.

 

As he struggles with the consequences of his last case, Emory must unravel the inexplicable death of a federal employee in a Knoxville high-rise. But while the reticent investigator is mired in a deep pool of suspects – from an old mountain witch to the powerful Tennessee Valley Authority – he misses a greater danger creeping from the shadows. The man in the ski mask returns to reveal himself, and the shocking crime of someone close is unearthed.

Amazon

About The Author

Mikel J. Wilson

Award-winning mystery author Mikel J. Wilson draws on his Southern roots for the international bestselling Mourning Dove Mysteries, a series of novels featuring bizarre murders in the Smoky Mountains region of Tennessee. Wilson adheres to a “no guns or knives” policy for the instigating murders in the series.

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Facebook

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Death Opens a Window Tour

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Mourning Dove Mysteries, Book 2

Mystery, Crime Fiction, LGBTQ

Publisher: Acorn Publishing

Date Published: Oct 19, 2019

 

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BEST eBOOK SUSPENSE/THRILLER – New Apple Book Awards

BEST COVER OVERALL – New Apple Book Awards

 

The Mourning Dove Mysteries series includes:

1. MURDER ON THE LAKE OF FIRE

2. DEATH OPENS A WINDOW

3. A LIGHT TO KILL BY (coming August 3)

 

Emory Rome is back in DEATH OPENS A WINDOW, Book 2 of the Mourning Dove
Mysteries and the follow-up to the international bestseller MURDER ON THE
LAKE OF FIRE.

 

As he struggles with the consequences of his last case, Emory must unravel
the inexplicable death of a federal employee in a Knoxville high-rise. But
while the reticent investigator is mired in a deep pool of suspects –
from an old mountain witch to the powerful Tennessee Valley Authority
– he misses a greater danger creeping from the shadows. The man in the
ski mask returns to reveal himself, and the shocking crime of someone close
is unearthed.

 

Death Opens a Window tablet

EXCERPT

Emory tapped the bell on the counter in the lobby of Willow Springs – senior living spaces converted from a nineteenth century Italianate house. Sounds of a mountain forest from overhead speakers pacified the air, and silk flowers sprung from every available surface. This place doesn’t seem so bad. It’s peaceful.

A scream rippled through the tranquility. Emory leapt over the counter and pounded through the door behind it. His eyes darted about in search of danger, but all he found was a fiftyish woman clutching her chest with a horrified look. Before her was an open drawer. Inside was a chicken-bone doll with a bird’s foot attached as if grabbing at the heart. The woman saw Emory and pointed frantically at the drawer. “Get it out of there! Get it out!”

That’s odd. It looks kind of like the one from Corey’s office. Emory threw the doll into a nearby wastebasket. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” The woman’s breathing ticked down from asthmatic. “Okay, I’m fine now. Thank you.” Her chest-clutching hand dropped to her side, revealing a company badge hanging from the collar of her purple polyester blouse. “Can I help you?”

Emory found himself staring at her swept-back, brittle hair – a patchwork of brown shades given a yellow luster from the fluorescent ceiling light. She must color it herself. He pulled his eyes away, glancing at the name on her badge before offering her a smile. “Hi Lucy. I’m here to see Mary Belle Hinter.”

“Ms… Ms. Mary Belle?” Her hand returned to her chest. “Are you a relation?”

“I’m Emory Rome. I’m investigating the death of someone she knew.”

“Oh, good heavens. How awful.” Lucy fanned herself with her hand. “She’s on the veranda. The door down the hall to your right. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you.” Emory pointed toward the wastebasket. “By the way, how did that thing get in your drawer?”

The woman placed a hand over her heart. “I can’t rightfully say. I imagine someone confiscated it from… one of our residents. We’re a Christian establishment.” Emory started toward the door when the woman stopped him. “Em’ry, you don’t believe she had something to do with that death, do you?”

“No, I just need to talk to her.”

Lucy pursed her lips. “Are you sure?”

That’s an odd question. 

Lucy continued, “I don’t mean to speak ill of the misfortunate, but that woman is a hellion straight from the loins of the devil!”

“Thanks for the warning.” Emory left Lucy to her shudders. That’s twice I’ve been warned about Mary Belle Hinter. Who is she?

When Emory stepped onto the veranda, he was greeted by a stifling warmth, in spite of the weak winter sunlight slavering through the glass roof. I wonder which one is her. Among the tight scattering of more patio heaters than were necessary, he saw about two dozen elderly denizens – some sitting alone and others playing cards or board games. One small woman with wild silver hair, however, was kneeling in front of a tree and digging in the dirt with her hands, just beyond the veranda’s wood-slat flooring. Emory smirked. Lord, don’t let it be the crazy one.

A thin fortyish man in scrubs approached him. “Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Mary Belle Hinter.”

The man scanned the area before the tips of his mustache reached for his chin. “There she is digging at that tree again.”

Emory’s shoulders slumped. Of course, it’s her. 

The attendant hurried toward her. “Ms. Mary Belle, what have we said about messing with the foliage?”

Either she didn’t hear him or she ignored him altogether because she broke off a small offshoot of the horse chestnut tree’s root and pulled it from the ground.

“Don’t put that in your mouth!”

Before the attendant could grab it, she sure enough stuffed the piece of root into her mouth and sucked on it as if it were hard candy.

The attendant threw his hands up in the air and turned to Emory. “She’s all yours.”

Emory nodded and extended a hand to the old woman. “Ms. Mary Belle, could I help you to your feet?”

She looked up at him and rasped through cracked lips, “If I’d a wanted on m’ feet, I’d be on ’em.”

“Fair enough.” Emory crouched on the ground next to her. “Ms. Mary Belle, I need to talk to you about Corey Melton. Do you know who that is?”

“I know who he was.” She looked at him with jaundiced eyes and pointed an arthritic finger at his face. “Who’re you?”

“I’m Emory Rome.” He handed her a business card. “I’m an investigator. You said you knew who Mr. Melton was. Why did you say that?”

The old woman buried Emory’s card into one of the oversized pockets of her brown tattered cloak. “I ain’t ne’er forgit a name or face.”

“No, why did you use the past tense?”

Ms. Mary Belle’s lips curled toward her withered cheeks. “I know why you’re here.”

“And why’s that?”

“You’re askin’ ’bout a feller I knew but for one reason. The curse musta met its intention.”

Emory clenched his jaw. Here we go. “Curse?”

“The thief stole m’ prop’ty! So I hexed ’im. Hexed ’im good.”

Yep, she’s crazy. 

Ms. Mary Belle laughed so hard, the root fell from her mouth. “When God closes a door, Death opens a window.” 

“When did you last see him?”

“Ne’er did. Coward wrote me a letter! Sheriff done his dirty work. Cursed ’im too.” Her last statement added a proud glimmer to her eyes. “He still wit’ us?”

“As far as I know.”

“Well, give it time. Give it time. Oh me…” Without warning, a flash flood of tears washed away Ms. Mary Belle’s self-satisfaction. 

Emory placed a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“That prop’ty’s been my family’s for gen’rations. From when I came ta ’wareness as a girl, I knowed I was gonna die there.” She looked over his shoulder as if she could see her erstwhile land from where she sat. “Summer’s always m’ fav’rite. Dancin’ ina black willer seeds that’re floatin’ ina wind. Cooling off ina crick. Course, ’tweren’t deep enough ta swim in, but it’s fun all a same. Ne’er did learn ta swim. And the taste o’ the sassafras trees.” Her tongue poked through her gummy smile to lick her crackled lips. “You e’er had a place like that?”

Emory shrugged. “I can’t say I have.”

Ms. Mary Belle wiped her eyes and focused them on Emory. “So you fixin’ ta ’rest me?”

“What? No, I’m not going to arrest you.”

“Takin’ pity ona ol’ woman.” She patted the back of his hand. “You’re a good young’un.”

“Thanks.”

“Can you he’p me get m’ prop’ty back?”

“Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about that.”

“Sweet sassafras, you an inves’gator! Inves’gate how ta git back what’s mine.”

“I’m sorry.” Emory shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”

“I got money. I can pay.”

“It’s not that. It’s just too late to do anything about it now. It’s out of our hands.”

“Our?” The old woman’s pitiable fragility evaporated, leaving behind a desiccated grimace of anger. “You workin’ wit’ ’em! You all in cahoots!”

“No, I meant there’s nothing you or I could do.”

“Stealin’ what’s mine!” Ms. Mary Belle clawed at the back of his hand, drawing blood. As Emory recoiled from her, she sucked the tiny bits of his skin from her fingertips and then spit in his face. “I curse you! No moment’s peace ’til your reckonin’, whena cold handa death’ll come a beckonin’!”

Emory jumped to his feet and backed away, almost tripping. He wiped the spit from his face and glared at her in disbelief.

Ms. Mary Belle screamed, “Git out!” followed by incomprehensible words.

Emory could feel his arm hair shrieking to attention as he retreated to his car.

 

About the Author

Mikel J. Wilson

Award-winning mystery author Mikel J. Wilson draws on his Southern roots
for the international bestselling Mourning Dove Mysteries, a series of
novels featuring bizarre murders in the Smoky Mountains region of Tennessee.
Wilson adheres to a “no guns or knives” policy for the
instigating murders in the series.

 

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