LAUNDERED SHIRTS LOOK BETTER ON HANGERS

Here (at last) is the promised continuation of chapter one . . . Lynch by Inch Claudia Stone looked down at the ten metre length of rope dangling from her hand and realised she had no idea how make…

Source: LAUNDERED SHIRTS LOOK BETTER ON HANGERS

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LAUNDERED SHIRTS LOOK BETTER ON HANGERS

Here (at last) is the promised continuation of chapter one . . .

Lynch by Inch

Claudia Stone looked down at the ten metre length of rope dangling from her hand and realised she had no idea how make a noose. Standing at the foot of the basement stairs, her flimsy peach-coloured peignoir plunged daringly at the neckline and swung about her ankles like water. This was the day, she’d decided earlier, her teeth clamped in determination. And this was the place. As far as the knot was concerned, she’d just have to ad-lib.

No one passing the Stone residence at 8 Wellington Drive in York Mills, Ontario that promising sun-bright day would ever have guessed what forty-six year old Mrs. Stone was up to. If the high wrought iron gates happened to be open, passers-by would likely notice the manicured lawn and the circular drive dressed in potted plants and skirts of blossoming flowers. They’d catch sight of the impressive old house almost hidden by towering spruce and weeping willow. A watchful eye would certainly blink into the brilliance of the original stained glass window adorning the main entrance, but might fail to detect that the pillars supporting the veranda’s ornate crown were forgeries. How fortunate were the people living there they would muse. How comfortable and happy they must be. 

Houses often give false impressions. 

Deep inside, Claudia Stone wasn’t considering other people’s assumptions. She wasn’t giving a damn about what anybody thought about anything. For once in her life she couldn’t have cared less. Her mind barely registered the icy chill emanating into her bare soles from the newly laid terracotta tiles. It was occupied instead with the sturdy oak beams overhead. Six of them. Claudia took a hesitant step forward, eyeing each beam like a hungry bird a worm. The rope she found in the garage was pure untreated hemp. Her husband had picked it up dirt cheap at Maynard’s Hardware a month earlier. He intended to keep it in the trunk of his car to use as a tow rope once winter rolled around again. Claudia spotted it the other day, hanging from a hook next to the rake. She figured it would do the trick. 

 

to be continued . . .

A long road trip. A quarrelling couple. On a lonesome highway a tire goes flat and an infant disappears. Is it a kidnapping? Or an act of god? 

Not far away, Gracie Fortune is bereft. For the past few years she’s been behaving strangely. She sees dancing fruit trees and encroaching horizons over which she’s tempted to go in search of all that’s been taken from her. In desperation, Grace begins making demands of her wayward god, not realising that when her prayers are answered all hell will break loose.

 LOOKING FOR WILL has to do with how behaviour, courage, desire and fear are determined by our perceptions of others and of situations in which we find ourselves. The title is a double entendre. “Will” signifies the determination and fortitude that each of the novel’s characters is seeking but is also the name of the sixteen month old child who goes missing. His disappearance is the pivotal event in the story, one that will alter forever the lives of many people.  

 

LAUNDERED SHIRTS LOOK BETTER ON HANGERS

AVAILABLE IN PRINT FROM AMAZON, BARNES & NOBLE, DIESEL and many others

EBOOK VERSION ON KINDLE, KOBO, SMASHWORDS, SCRIBD and more

From an early age Claudia Stone learned that there are those who know better than she how to make things happen. Trouble is – the happenings are not of her choosing. Despite recurrent blows and losses, she struggles to hold onto the reins. But Claudia has no control over her life. The only power she possesses is the power to end it. As it turns out, she’s lousy at that too. Then, one day, by a stoke of luck – or is it destiny (?) Claudia Stone discovers a hidden talent. Once transformed into ‘Esmeralda the phone sex queen,’ the gateway to a exciting new world opens. At last, Claudia’s long-held dreams and ambitions seem approachable. The war appears to be over. Little does she know, the battle has just begun.

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Available now on Amazon.com

This is how it begins:

Lynch by Inch

Claudia Stone looked down at the ten metre length of rope dangling from her hand and realised she had no idea how make a noose. Standing at the foot of the basement stairs, her flimsy peach-coloured peignoir plunged daringly at the neckline and swung about her ankles like water. This was the day, she’d decided earlier, her teeth clamped in determination. And this was the place. As far as the knot was concerned, she’d just have to ad-lib.

to be continued . . .

LOOKING FOR WILL – on Amazon now!

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PRINT VERSION IS NOW AVAILABLE ON AMAZON!

In North America and Europe

NOW available on Kindle, Smashwords, KOBO and more.

Here is an excerpt:  Chapter One

THE DEWHURSTS

Missing

The day sixteen month old William Benjamin Dewhurst went missing was an especially fine one. Although his parents, David and Jan Dewhurst would maintain that the heat was merciless. That the sun made eyes water and set nerves on end. It was mid May, 1969. For the northern region of Ontario, Canada, it was exceptional weather. Sometimes reaching over 80 degrees Fahrenheit. The Dewhursts were returning home after a holiday in Calgary. Over the previous few days they’d traveled through Alberta, Saskatchewan and Manitoba. Arriving at last in Ontario was a welcome relief. Home loomed on the horizon. Only one more night in an hotel. David was sure they’d reach Toronto the following evening. 

An ongoing dispute had occupied the young couple all day. The heat and humidity served to inflame their tempers even more. By the time they pulled into the parking lot of The Sunrise Motel late that afternoon both were fit to be tied. David went immediately to book a room. While he was doing so his wife was leaning into the back seat, about to lift the light cotton blanket under which she believed their son to be sleeping. Her tanned arms reached out. “Come on little guy, you’ve been sleeping long enough. Up you get now.” The woman’s foul mood sweetened in anticipation as she pulled back the checkered blanket. But her calm didn’t last. Instead of her child, Jan Dewhurst found nothing but a bundle of crumpled pillows and the mohair shawl that so resembled his golden hair. Suddenly, she was gasping like a fish out of water. In a panic, she began tossing aside folds of scattered blankets and discarded clothing. Walking casually back toward the car her husband heard her screaming, “Will!  Where are you? William!

“What in God’s name have you done with him?” was the first response to come out of David Dewhurst’s mouth.