Publisher: Vintage Romance Publishing
Genre:Light Romance/Comedy
Pub Date: October 2005 ISBN: 0-9770107-6-7

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The Beals live in a upper middle class neighborhood in the mid 1960's. Frank is a jingle writer who is having more than a little trouble coming up with a shoe polish jingle. Trying to keep up with the neighbor's expensive tastes is a full time job in itself. But when Frank butts heads with a Voodoo practicing Brazilian gardener, he gets much more than he bargains for, especially when he is distracted by all the spells flying back and forth, with a force strong enough to turn his wife into a love-starved siren and his children into well-behaved angels.

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Intruder

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 Two weeks. That’s how long it had been since they exchanged those awful words. They had their spats before but it was never so serious as to tear them this far apart.

 

 

He turned hazel eyes from the harsh traffic lights and allowed them to drift up three floors to rest on her ivy-bordered balcony, decorated now with festive blinking lights. When did he get weak? He should just march right up to her door and break it down. That’s it. Just break the door down and sweep her into his arms

 

 

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Initials  for Murder-

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Everyone dies.

No one knew that better. He had seen first hand the unyielding power of the reaper’s will. It wasn’t the reaper who tugged at him now, however. It was the deadly toxin that was being rapidly absorbed into his digestive tract. The cold wind flattened his pant legs against his shins. An icy ache rankled his teeth. He jerked the edges of his coat tightly around his middle. His heart battered a rabbit-quick rhythm against his chest. Pain ripped up through his abdomen and brought him to a stand still.
With panic stricken eyes, he looked around for help. 

Excerpt

He couldn’t remember where he was or why he was there. There was one thing he could remember, though. He thought of his life before it went cold and empty, before Martha died. She was warm with the comfort and feeling of home. They had lived simply, with little need for material things, and they were happy that way.

It was the tumor that took her from him. A tiny, unreachable, ticking bomb he was powerless to defuse. Oh, how he longed to see her smile, to touch her hand. One gaze, one last touch.

Suddenly, he heard her calling to him. He stopped and listened. She called again. She was just across the street. All he had to do was cross over and he could be
with her.

 

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Junk Mail Junkies-

 

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The corner of Roy’s mouth tipped up in a crooked grin as he looked around at Harry’s latest pigsty. It was a Goldenwest singlewide. The natural wood grain was photographed veneer but glued nicely from floor to ceiling, panel so thin it cracked from the sound of a loud fart.

 

 

Excerpt

Harry grabbed a handful of envelopes and slapped them on the table. “Quit your complainin’ you should be glad that I’m lettin’ you help.”

Roy snorted. “Come on Harry, you really think you’re gonna make any money doin' this?” He shook his head and took a long pull from his Budweiser.
“The ad says you can make up to five thousand dollars a month in your spare time,” Harry said whacking a pack of Camel’s three times hard against the heel of his hand.

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The Tandem Program

 

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The glare from the florescent lighting stitched Billy Dolan’s eyes into defensive slits. He was, hungry, tired and hampered by ankle irons. With labored shuffling, the soft rubber sole of his shoe caught on the waxed linoleum tile and he suddenly fell forward. The guard’s grip on his arms made him wince. It hurt like hell, but he refused to call out.

 

Excerpt

Men in suits, expressionless, rigid and overly scented, occupied two of the chairs on one side of a long table. An empty chair sat on the other. The guards thrust Dolan into the chair meant for him, causing it to scrape several inches across the floor with a teeth-aching squeal.

Dolan tried to take in as much of the room as he could in a single scan. Drab, grimy white walls and nothing hung on them to cover the web of cracks crawling from each corner. The floor was covered in the same dappled linoleum tile that he got a good look at in the hall. And now, even with the sunlight shining in from the windows, the room felt dark.

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In the Rough

 

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The printer whirred, as it reproduced the screen image. Beckard snagged it and walked across the floor of the small apartment. He sat down at the white wicker dining set and inspected the documents on the table, driver's license, dental records, passport and a tattered looking birth certificate. It wouldn't be long now; he would be enjoying a new life and a new identity.

 

Excerpt:

The knock at the door was barely audible.
"Where the hell have you been?" Beckard asked impatiently. There was a moment of silence as he held open the door.
"I was doing what you told me to do," Benjamin answered, stepping into the room.
"I don't remember telling you to disconnect your phone, or to quit your job, for that matter," Beckard said. “It makes you look suspicious to quit after only two months.”
"Look, I got paranoid; I don't want to go to jail over this."
"So, you drop by my apartment when you know I'm under surveillance? Smart move, Ben."
Benjamin’s head jerked around, as if he was expecting to see a couple of agents break through the door to sweep him off to some fat creep lockup tank.
"Okay, you’re right, this was a stupid idea, but I can't stop thinkin' about Eve. I feel like we’ve betrayed her."
"That feeling will go away when you have that large chunk of cash in your pocket. Remember? That's why we did this in the first place."
Benjamin stared into Beckard’s eyes and shifted his weight from foot to foot like a captured animal.
"Look, I've been thinking,” Benjamin, offered. “Maybe Eve doesn't have to disappear. I know it's chancy, but I was hoping maybe you could just let her go be with her sister. I mean maybe…"
"Are you nuts?" Beckard put his hand on Benjamin's shoulder, squeezing hard enough to make him wince. "Don't wimp out on me now. Not when we're so close to the finish line. We've planned this for months, and don't forget how much you're involved. You even planted the tracer on her car for God's sake!" Beckard eased his grip. "Okay?” His voice lowered. "If we can keep her from finding out, then maybe we can let her go, but you have to think of the plan first."