Liberty or Death
Her father got killed trying to arrest cultists and her mother deserted her for Hollywood. Her Tom-Cruise lookalike, Viagra-salesman husband has a mad on at the world and is trying to drown it out with booze. Her crazily beautiful eight-year-old daughter was born with Down syndrome. Liberty Chase copes with it all—until the Rev. Sam Maginnes, who was the North Star in her stormy world—the man she’s been fighting a wild, ungodly passion for—is murdered on Thanksgiving Eve in his Atlanta home.
They said Sam died of natural causes, but Liberty, 38, knows she heard someone in Sam’s house when she stopped by. She had to tell him she was leaving her husband after his latest abuse. She’d fled in terror when she found Sam’s body. How can she prove it was murder without implicating herself, enraging her husband, and destroying Sam’s reputation as a husband, father, minister and humanitarian?
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Excerpt--Chapter 1
If he didn’t bring the turkey tonight, I was going to divorce him.
Okay, it was pouring down rain, a regular gullywasher, gurgling over the eaves and dashing down the downspouts, lightning was cracking and flashing; oh yes, a dark and stormy night that might still be saved if Dallas did this one thing for me.
Tomorrow was Thanksgiving and his hoity-toity mother and brother and the new wife were coming over, and I had been working my fool tail off all the livelong day and even turned down a chance to make a few more bucks subbing, and had missed a phone call from Sam because I was at the store and had left the cell at home and Dallas had promised to get the cooked turkey because the deli was on his way home. I told myself, don’t think about Sam! I poured myself a glass of Coke and doctored it up with a slug of bourbon.
Okay, it hadn’t been the wisest of moves getting involved with Sam. I knew it was going to break my heart in the end, but, but, well . . . Dallas had turned plumb mean, and I was hollow as a gourd for love. So what if my husband looked like Tom Cruise? Now he was acting worse than Tom Cruise, but I would have given my whole Disneyfied upscale neighborhood for him to be hip on Scientology rather than booze. |
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