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Welcome to my inside writing space. It’s a bit tricky, I write on a laptop and regularly use three different indoor areas in my home for working. I’ll show you my writing and craft room.
After meeting you at my front door, we’ll go through the living room to the hallway. You’ll know we’re heading in the right direction as we pass a sign on the living room wall to the right of the hallway that reads: WARNING NOVELIST AT WORK BYSTANDERS MAY BE WRITTEN INTO THE STORY. It was a Christmas gift from my daughter and I wanted it to hang where people could get a laugh from it.
My office/craft room/writing room is overcrowded with . . . stuff. Not hoarder overcrowded, but the overcrowding of a person who likes mementos of her life along with things that simply make her smile.
The room is a bold orangey-yellow, as is our living room. I got tired of beige and pastels and I liked the feeling the bold yellow gives me.
And there is a large stuffed Hello Kitty on the left of the desk, along with a collection of small Hello Kitty collectable things on a wall-shelf to the right of the desk.
I like Hello Kitty. ;-)
You can also see my fiddle on the right.
Unfortunately, my outside view isn’t the best because they are set so far off the floor. But it is pleasant, with all the trees and bushes that grow on the hillside on the east side of our backyard. I do get to see birds in the trees, which is cool as I’m a birder.
Some day, who knows maybe with royalties from my books, I plan to put in French doors so I get a better view of the patio and backyard.
And yes, I go there and dream. Of Emory and Jebbin and all my friends in Twombly, and I write their stories for all of you to read. I hope The Devil’s Music and The Devil’s Hook bring you a break from your everyday life, some laughter and some entertainment. That’s what I dream of for my stories.
a Rafflecopter giveawayJairus Twombly's familial intuition is faltering and his new personal assistant seems to be trying to replace his wife, Amy.
On the Twombly College campus, someone is breaking into the dorm rooms of female students leaving things instead of taking things: red colored objects including a red golf ball, a red ribbon and a tiny red stuffed dog.
When a recipient of some of the red objects goes missing and is returned after being told, "You're not her", and the personal assistant turns up dead with Amy Twombly's elegant Bloodwood crochet hook in her eye, things heat up for Emory Crawford and her chemist and forensic scientist husband, Dr. Jebbin Crawford.
Emory, along with the Twombly's Nancy Drew-like daughter, Madison, once more turns to her amateur detective skills and intuition to solve the mysteries.
Enjoy an excerpt:
At about time for lunch break, we heard the upstairs door open and close followed by Tracy and Suzanne pelting down the stairs into the family room.
“Sorry we’re late, Emory,” Tracy puffed.
“Campus security is finally going to do something about it all,” Suzanne gasped out in one breath.
“What?” said the class in Greek chorus unison.
“Slow down now. Take a few deep breaths then tell us what the college is finally doing something about.”
“The red things,” Suzanne began. “The red things that have been appearing in our rooms at Mitchell dorm. It started happening in November, or thereabouts. It even took us a while before any of us said anything to each other.”
“Red things appearing, not taken?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Tracy nodded. “That’s what made it so weird. I mean, breaking in to leave something is so much stranger than breaking in to take something. You know, taking is nearly normal.”
“Totally.” Suzanne shivered at the thought. “But at least now they’re going to come to Mitchell and check out the rooms for scratch marks on the door jambs, finger prints and stuff.”
“Well, I guess we’ll be hearing more about this over our break. I’ve got lunch ready upstairs. Why don’t the rest of you go on up and help yourselves while I get Tracy and Suzanne started on crocheting their afghans.”
The group moved up the stairs, the two boys in the lead. I could hear Amy Twombly grumping as she went.
“I hope lunch is better today. Yesterday I’m positive the bread was stale and Monday the soup was over-cooked.”
I started getting the two girls settled down and learning the pattern. But my brain was not fully on the stitching. The last time something around here got left where it shouldn’t have been it was a strange dried flower arrangement on the welcome table for a conference and soon after, there was a murder.
About the Author:
Buy The Devil’s Hook at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or Chapters/Indigo.
Buy The Devil’s Music at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Chapters/Indio, or Books-A-Million.