I just slapped "THE END" on my 15th novel,
Broken Barriers, hopefully to come out a bit later this year. This is the sequel to
The House at Black Tooth Pond, which came out in 2025. I'll have the proofing, editing, and all that stuff
to do, but the bulk of the book is finished. Might need a celebratory martini
this evening!
Here's the teeny-tiniest of excerpts...
Doctor Melissa “Mel” Crawford's deep green eyes lingered on Parrott’s for a
few seconds. They sat across from each other at a small table by the front
window of Willy’s Downtown Tavern, which offered a lovely view of the
sprawling, two-century-old First United Methodist Church building across Main
Street (the congregation of which had disapproved of the tavern’s proximity
for a full half as many years). Doc Crawford had always looked far younger
than her age, which he put at around forty…or maybe thirty…or maybe fifty…who
knew? But since last month, several new lines and creases had formed at the
corners of her eyes, and a few gray streaks ran through her short, wiry brown
hair, so that she resembled a sagacious pixie. As the county medical examiner,
she had borne more than her share of the FBI’s condemnation during its
investigation of Aiken Mill’s missing six.
“When was the last time I trusted anyone?” Parrott asked.
“Well, you trusted me when I told you we were dealing with something wholly
unexplainable at Black Tooth Pond. And when I advised you to call the FBI, you
up and did it, against your better judgment. And when I said, ‘Let’s go out to
dinner because you need cheering up,’ you accepted. At this point, I would
have to call you exceedingly gullible—the fact that we were dealing with
something wholly unexplainable notwithstanding.”
“Point taken, but our admittedly nasty intercourse with the FBI was
inevitable. We were in over our heads.”
Doc Crawford snickered and raised her nearly full glass of Chardonnay. “To
intercourse and being in over our heads.”
Parrott lifted his half-empty, no-longer-chilled mug of Thunder Knob IPA to
touch her glass. He struck it a little harder than he intended and sloshed a
smidgen of her pale gold-tinted wine onto the table. They both ignored it. A
couple of seconds later, the last of his beer had vanished.
#