Meet guest author Mary Marvella and Her Deception. Her Deception is up for preorder and will go live October
30. It will be 99 cents until November 3.
The day Patrice heard her husband
order a hit to be done quickly or his ass wouldn't be worth anything she knew
she had to leave him. The only way she knew to investigate him and his people
was by returning to stripping where she would meet the people who dealt in
death, drugs, and prostitution. When she worked her way through college she
learned more about crime than she ever wanted to know.
Why would anyone believe Hugh, the
man who played golf with the mayor of the a small town on the outskirts of Atlanta,
Georgia, who socialized with the chief of police in that town and respected
business owner, had a second life one involving crimes? Who would believe a
former stripper over this man?
EXCERPT:
Through
breakfast she had to make small talk since her attentive husband didn't spend
this time reading his newspaper or business papers. He was once again the
soft-spoken Hugh she knew, attentive and interested in her plans. How could two
such different people live in one man's body? Would he one day order her death?
Yesterday she would have said no way.
"Patrice?"
She struggled to bring her thoughts
back. She cleared her dry throat and looked across the table at the man
speaking to her. "Yes, dear?" She couldn’t make herself look into the
blue eyes that had always seemed warm and caring. What would she see in them
this morning?
"Patrice,
I really think you should consider some other form of exercise. Kick-boxing is
so unladylike."
So is stripping, but it paid for my
degree in accounting.
His baritone
voice slid over her like sand-covered velvet. She'd always thought he had a
nice voice. This morning, though, it made her skin crawl.
She tried to
hide the revulsion building. "It helps me let off steam. Spending hours
bent over a computer, filling in spreadsheets builds stress." It keeps me fit and ready to defend myself,
if I need to. After years of living in situations unsafe for a defenseless
person, she'd never let herself get soft.
"There are better ways to let
off steam, darling." The man across from her waggled graying eyebrows and
leered.
"You
showed me plenty of them."
"It's not the same." She
tried to give him the coy smile he'd expect. Shut up and eat.
"Consider letting me hire a
trainer for you, please." He finished the last of his poached eggs and
wheat toast.
"If I want a personal trainer,
I'll hire one." She hadn't meant to sound snippy. How much longer? She fought the urge to glance at her watch. She
watched him fold his napkin and place it on his plate. Meticulous and
civilized, as usual.
"Of course, but I like spoiling
you."
She speared a bite of cold omelet to
avoid responding. It went down like a rock, tasted like dirt.
"You're awfully quiet this
morning, Pat. Maybe you should take the day off."
"Just a headache." What a
way to start a week and end a way of life. Any other time she'd have
appreciated his concern. "I can't stay home. I have appointments with
clients all day."
When Hugh stood she noticed his
squint lines. He'd aged little during the four years of their marriage. He was
handsome, the way mature men are when they take care of themselves and wear
expensive tailored suits. He'd had his bi-monthly hair trim and regular
exfoliating treatment earlier in the week.
He
looks harmless, so civilized.
On auto-pilot, she rose to accept
the usual good-bye kiss on her cheek, soft to avoid mussing her make-up. The last kiss I'll have from this man?
"Darling," he asked,
"shall I arrange for pickup at the airport when I get back? Or will you be
there to meet me?"
Patrice swallowed the bile of
betrayal and regret. "What time Wednesday?"
"Around six-thirty should
work."
"I'll be there," she lied.
"Sorry I can't take you this morning, I have a meeting with a client. I
could try to change it?" Please say
no. Hell, I won’t be there anyway.
"Of course not, Bill will take
me. I pay him well to take me places." He strode to the front door and
opened it. "He's here already, right on time."
She followed him but stopped half a
room away, holding her breath, waiting for him to grasp the handle of his black
Louis Vuitton suitcase and pull it to the car and driver waiting in the
circular drive. He paused in the doorway, neither inside nor outside the house,
then turned back to face her, smiling.
"Have a good trip," she
said, her insides churning. Please don’t
let him hear anything different in my voice. She forced a smile and a flirty wave.
When he rushed to her side and took
her in his arms panic cramped her stomach. His spicy smelling cologne pleased
her when she bought it for him. This morning it made her ill.
"I'll
miss you." His voice was deep.
"Miss you, too." She
forced the words through stiff lips. If
he doesn't leave soon I'll lose my breakfast.
Mary Marvella has
been a storyteller for as long as she can remember. The arrival of the book
mobile was as exciting as hearing the music of the ice cream truck.
Retired from teaching classic works of the masters, Mary
plays let’s pretend with her characters. She presents editing workshops, edits,
coaches writers, and tutors one-on-one
Mary has published novels, novellas, and short stories. Her genres include paranormal romance,
romantic suspense, women’s fiction, and sweet romance.
Georgia raised, she writes stories with a Southern flair.
http://amzn.to/29g2nKW
Author page
https://twitter.com/MmMayfieldautho
Follow Mary
Marvella on Twitter @mmarvellab
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