I’m working hard on the new book–which may be titled GHOST or THE TWIN or something I haven’t even thought of yet–and thought that for today and tomorrow, I’ll give you a tiny sample.  

First, the first chapter: 

Chapter One 

The night was made for murder. 

She waits until his breaths come deeply and evenly; waits until he snores in a regular rhythm. Then she slips out of bed and moves to the window, raising the blind so a wave of silver moonlight floods the room. 

She won’t risk waking him by turning on the lamp. Moonlight suits her purposes; it has always suited her nature. 

She creeps into the bathroom and pulls the basket with his sharps and bottles from beneath the sink. These she transfers to the nightstand, then she lifts a syringe and presses the thin needle into the neck of a bottle. 

He took his insulin before bedtime, a dose guaranteed to stabilize his variable blood chemistry throughout the night. This second injection will stabilize him forever. 

She measures out fifty units of regular insulin and drops the bottle back into its basket. The gentle chink of glass against glass does not rouse him. The man sleeps like a log, particularly on nights when he is so full of himself that he can’t resist berating his wife. 

Idiot. White trash. Slut. 

Never again will those words pass his lips. Never again will she wear long sleeves on hot summer days. 

Never again will his fist slam into her belly. 

She lowers herself to the mattress, lifts the syringe in her left hand, and gently tugs on the covers with her right. His snoring halts, then erupts in an explosion of breath. His body has sensed the abrupt change in temperature and his hand fumbles at his pajama top, searching for the comforter. 

When he stops moving, she slides the thin needle into the pale flesh of his abdomen and presses the plunger. The instrument of death makes no sound, nor does its bite make him flinch. The needle has nipped his skin many times.

Like a mother tucking in a beloved child, she covers him again and stands as he slumbers on, oblivious to his fate. 

She returns the basket of supplies to the bathroom vanity and tosses the syringe into the trash. Then she crawls back into bed and closes her eyes, willing herself to sleep. 

That’s it for today!  🙂



  1. Mocha with Linda

    How do you type a shiver?!

    More! More!!

    Of course, the nurse in me loves the method. . . (THAT’s the “quieter way,” isn’t it?!). Shades of Harry Kraus & Hannah Alexander. . . .

    You definitely know how to dangle the carrot.

  2. Suzanne

    Good grief! How can you stand to leave us hanging like that? LOL And we have to wait how long to find out what happens?

  3. sara

    oh my, I agree with Suzanne….how can you leave us hanging like that?! A VERY gripping way to start!!!

  4. Anonymous

    LOL – How much easier that seems than divorce. Can’t wait to see if she gets away with it! Seriously, what a great opening!!!!! (You’ve earned the exclamation points.) The title, however, hints that even if she gets away with it in the world, God sends her a “ghost” or a “look-alike” to haunt her for her sin. Sounds delicious. Clyde

    P.S. I have never heard the word “sharps” as a noun. Is that slang for needles in either the medical or the druggie world?

  5. Angela

    Yes, Clyde–“sharps” are syringes. I don’t know why they use that word, but they do.

    Glad to see that you’re all aboard. There’s another piece coming tomorrow . . .


  6. Lisa

    You had me from the first sentence! How long will we have to wait?? I’m going to search for SAWR while I’m out running errands today. It still seems to have not made it to the Midwest!

  7. Crystal M.

    Oh, wow! This is good… and you left us hangin’ there. I can’t wait to read some more.
    ~Crystal M.

  8. Kay

    A murderer for a protagonist? How unexpected! I was expecting that.
    I love it!

  9. Megan DiMaria

    Oh, and the first sentence is fabulous!

  10. Jackie Colburn

    Love it! Especially the first sentence 🙂


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