Best-seller (SUSPENSE) at thewildrosepress.com

 

BOOTY CALL FOR MURDER--sibling rivalry kills

by Jane Greenhill ISBN#1-60154-222-4

AVAILABLE NOW @www.thewildrosepress.com

(In Paperback October 25th, 2008)

Check out the reviews by clicking on the car on the main webpage.

 

“I’m going to kill you.” Detective Angus McDonald yelled.

“Who me?” Richard looked over his shoulder, “You can’t mean me. I’m innocent.”

“You might be able to screw the legal system but buddy you’re not going to screw me. It might take awhile, but jerk face, watch your back, because I’m coming after you. You’re dead meat!”

Detective Angus McDonald pointed at Richard Markov, his tormentor for the past five years. “I don’t give a damn about technicalities, or warrants. I’ve played by the rules and lost. I know damn well you’re guilty. You harassed and threatened that family. You tried to kidnap their son Robbie. You might have conned the jury. You can wear all the disguises and use all the pay phones known to man, but my gut knows it was you. The next time we meet, I’ll be the only judge and jury. Buddy, in my court you’re already facing a firing squad. It might be nineteen ninety nine but I have all the time in the world.”

Angus paused to catch his breath and reel in his anger. It wouldn’t do his career any good to beat the crap out of this jerk on the county courthouse steps. Angus glanced over at his partner, Frank Lowry, who had started whistling. Angus appreciated the fact Frank was covering his butt, if he was called as a witness. “Angus, he’s not worth your pension.”

“Sticks and stones, Detective. Sticks and stones. You talk big, but I know you play by the rules. That’s where we differ man, but guess what, Dee-tect-ive or I guess today it’s more like dee-fec-tive, today we’re both free men. Ba bye. I’ll send you a postcard from the sunny south.”

RETAIL IS MURDER--an ex husband almost costs the heroine her life

by Jane Greenhill

He peered out from the rotted oak board that formed the wall of the decrypted tree house. He sighted his target through the scope of his rifle. He shivered, more from the dampness than from any form of consciousness. He rolled his shoulders to ease the achiness that had crept upon him in the cramped quarters.

He watched as she shuffled across the kitchen, disappearing from view for thirty seconds, and then reappeared with her microwaved dinner, reminding him that he’d have to leave soon to enjoy supper with his own family.

The scope so crisp he could pick out a lowly gray chin hair. Must be awful to get that ancient, but after today she wouldn’t have to worry about fine lines and wrinkles.

He pulled the trigger ending her life, and gave his own a renewed sense of purpose

HORSING AROUND WITH MURDER--white gold is a hot commodity

by Jane Greenhill

My breasts heaved and palms damp. I’d been having nightmares about this very day for weeks, even months.

I couldn’t help but gawk into a full-length mirror. My make-up accentuated my cheekbones, my lips a subtle, natural color. My hair was teased and spritzed with a can and a half of hairspray. I just hoped no one smoked near me or I’d light up in a fireball.

I wiped my moist hands on the green netting holding my bouquet together.

The sparkling white dress was the latest by Carolina Hazzard. The bodice crisscrossed in front, barely covering my breasts before falling to an empire waist. The dress was so tight fitting, I wasn’t able to eat for a week. I haven’t been able to sit down since I put it on. I felt fait whenever I inhaled and the lace stuck to places, causing me to want to scratch in unladylike areas.

THE COBRA MURDERS--a serial killer dormant for thirty years gets a renewed sense of pleasure for the kill

-- COMING SOON FROM WILD ROSE PRESS AND OTHER FINE BOOKSELLERS

by Jane Greenhill

"I don't know anyone named Alice. Buddy, I think you have the wrong apartment," Simon said into the itnercom mounted beside the front door of his apartment. Fatigued, he ran a hand through his hair knowing from experience he had bed head to the ninth degree.

Served him right for going to sleep with the gel left in. Too many beers and garlicky chicken wings if his breath was any indication. Blowing into his hand, he almost knocked himself out from the fumes.

"What are you saying? I just met her last night at The Office and she told me she lived here. She gave me this address," a high-pitched whine came across the airwaves.

"Well buddy, if you met her at your office, you should be able to find her pretty easy." Simon yawned loudly hoping this guy would take the hint and leave.

"Not my office, The Office, the bar at the corner of Main and Maple Streets. Obviously you're not into the hip night life."

"Obviously not." SImon fingered his gold loop earring. Holly had talked him into it after she saw Harrison Ford's and it was starting to grow on him.

"Anyway, buddy, I don't know your name and I'm sleep deprived." He glanced at his Miami Dolphin watch. "It's ten A.M. and I just finished a long shift."

"I knew it, she's there, isn't she? I'm going to charge through this door right now and throttle you, mister. Then I'm going to stomp on your...."

"Just to let you know buddy, my hands are registered as deadly weapons." So is my Smith and Wesson He wasn't concerned with a guy who sounded like a squeaky mouse, but he opened the closet door to ensure his police issued baton was where he last left it.

"Oh sorry. You know I wouldn't really hurt you. I'm a Boy Scout Leader. My name is Harold and if you do talk to Alice, can you tell her to call me?"

"Whatever!" Simon walked away from the box, only to have the persistent buzzing drag him back.

Pushing the intercom button, he said firmly. "Harold, I don't even know Alice, But she must like you or why would she give you her address?"

"Well, she didn't give it to me per se. I saw her leave the club and wrote down her license plate number. I went into the Vehicle Registry Office this morning and told a little fib she'd hit my car. I charmed the gal there." His arrogant tone sqeaked into Simon's ear.

"Lord, did nine eleven teach us nothing?" Simon mumbled to himself. He couldn't arrest Harold for stalking but if there were a law for trying a cop's patience, Harold would be in a cell, with the key thrown away.

"Sounds like you went to a lot of work to find her. If I do happen to run into her, maybe you can tell me what she looks like? Just so I'm not handing your phone number out all over town."

"How do you describe an angel on earth? She has fiery red hair flowing down her back. Her face is covered with freckles. I couldn't wait to play dot to dot with. And her jeans molded to her ass like the skin of an onion." Harold let out a heartfelt snivel.

Simon could feel for the guy, he'd been mesmerized by the opposite sex--been there, done that. Though he'd never hit the Registry to search out a chick, Simon decided he was definately going to have to meet this Alice in person. He had a weakness for red hair and freckles. And a hot body was icing on the cake.

" Vampire Bytes--Computer games takes control of our hero's life

Coming soon from Wild Rose Press

What begins as an innocent obession turns Heath Clifford's life upside down. A computer game Vampillion takes over his life, turning him into a vamp and introducing him to a cast of characters some living, but most undead.

When he finally meets his soul mate Greta, they must together fight the vamps to regasave their souls.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE KARMA KILLINGS--when spurned lovers connect, it results in karma killings

"Lacey Floyd, this is your baby," Chief Ferguson said, grinning down from the podium. "You set the time for the raid and organize the troops and we'll be there."

The room filled with the thundering sound of ten pairs of police issue boots stomping the cracked linoleum floor of the Mapleview squad room.

"Let's hope she doesn't get lost between here and there," Craig Nichols snickered. She aimed a punch at his arm, which he easily deflected.

"Once I got lost and that was only because a certain someone gave me the wrong directions. Not mentioning any names." Lacey laughed, turning around from her front seat position to view the rest of the squad. She tucked behind her ear a wayward strand of blonde hair, which had escaped from the bun at the nape of her neck.

John Black looked up from his desk, "Let's give the lady a break."

"Lacey you should know not to let Craig give you directions," Ferguson teased. "He can't find his way home from the G-String most nights." Ferguson's comments caused a ripple of laughter from the men and women assembled in the parade room.

"Thanks for the opportunity, sir," Lacey said. "I'm game to go tomorrow at oh five hundred hours."

The adrenaline surge sprouted and died with the early A.M. call.

Lacey stood up and walked to the head of the class. Glancing down at the assembled faces, she felt a renewed sense of confidence when one officer caught her eye and winked. She knew she had to rally the troops to support her.

Inhaling a deep breath and with a renewed sense of self-confidence she began. "Intel has learned there's a major grow operation running out of the 'abandoned' barn on Old Stone Road. Surveillance photos taken by a pilot wearing night vision goggles confirmed there are a lot of warm bodies down there." She seeked out Craig Nichols' eyes, "Go on Craig, get the comments out of your system."

He held up his hands in mock protest. "I don't have anything to say. Though if there are warm bodies down there, can I please be the first one in the door?"

"We'll draw straws." Ignoring him as he dropped to the floor and begged like a child, she continued. "I don't have to tell you the deaths of Marcus Anthony, Julie Barnes and Peter Armstand which were attributed to bad drugs these kids had been smoking, drugs our informant said were grown in that barn."

She waited until the curses stopped. She had them now. She relaxed her shoulders and released her clutched hands.

She chewed on her bottom lip as she gathered a piece of white chalk in her hand and drew a rough square. Stick people were in each of the corners, one with a long stick in his hand.

"Come on people. We have to strike while the bad guys are sleeping. I don't think I have to tell you what the grow op is doing to the kids of our town. Having access to garbage drugs in such quantity is creating a drug epidemic. Let's get these guys and put them out of business and behind bars." Lacey said, thrusting a fist into the air. Dang it. She was going to get her rank if it killed her.

When she finished her speech she was immediately surrounded by her team each and everyone giving her verbal and non-verbal support.

John and Craig jostled each other to be closest to her and she smiled at the boyish antics.

"Come on folks, let's go and gave a good night's sleep. We've got some butts to kick in the early morning."

At three A.M. sleep eluded her. Sick of lying in bed pretending to sleep, she threw back the duvet, the cool air hitting her skin and walked naked into the bathroom. Climbing into the shower stall, she cranked the knob to the left and stood under the steaming hot water. Then to further wake herself up, she twisted the knob to cold, then back towards the hot.

Her heart beat in excitement with an accelerated excited rhythm as she mentally reviewed the day's activities.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, as he slid the shower curtain aside and stepped into the shower stall.

 

 

GETTING FRISKE IN THE BIG APPLE--internet dating isn't all it's cracked up to be

by Jane Greenhill

 

I was leaning over my queen sized canopied bed, making a half-hearted attempt at housework. I hated cleaning the house and would have a cleaning lady except I felt too guilty since I was a stay at home mom. I wasn’t raised to be a lady of leisure. Next I’d be getting my legs waxed, which after delivering twins couldn’t be that much more painful. Dusting was my least favourite job, I figured the sooner I did it the sooner I would have to do it again, so I put it off as long as I could and ironing was a chore that was worse than giving birth. I often ironed more wrinkles in than I was taking out, while I tried to keep my dog Posh from attacking the iroining board. (In her defense, if she saw it more than once a year she’d probably be more used to it.) Thank God my husband had a clothing allowance for his police shirts. He was spared the embarrassment of burn holes in his shirts, wrinkles and buttons sewn on with embroidery floss.

So it was on a routine Wednesday that my life changed. I was in the midst of changing the pillow case when I was suddenly groped from behind. I gasped as ice cold hands slid up under my husband’s tattered dress shirt which I wore to clean the house, grabbing my breasts and fingering them roughly. My traitorous nipples rose to attention beneath the rough treatment.

“Is there anyLone else in the house?” a deep husky voice demanded.

LIFE IS NEVER DULL--be careful what you buy at a garage sale

by Jane Greenhill

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into another blind date.” Lucee caught the eye of her sister Robbyn in the mirror as she changed her top for the fifth time. “I don’t even know why I bother. I should just go in my sweats. It really wouldn’t make a difference with the losers you fix me up with and that way I wouldn’t have to change when I get home.”

“Losers, what do you mean? Lance was an investment banker.”

“An investment banker who not only thought Elvis had left the building but made his escape on a spaceship that made a pit stop in Roswell, where he’s now not only residing but being kept hidden by the Federal Government in Area 51.”

“Well, everybody has their conspiracy theories.”

“Yah well you’re going to have to stop visiting those chat rooms on the Internet. Let us not forget Rex the lawyer who kept dropping his napkin on the floor so he could pick it up and accidentally stroke my toes. I mean I’m as hip and cool as the next person, Robbyn I saw that look, and I know about fetishes as much as the next person but I think it’s a bit much that a man on a first date after dinner instead of making a suggestion to go somewhere for a drink or even dancing offers to take me to the shoe district in Toronto for midnight sales his contacts had told him about.”

“Well even I admit that’s a little strange,” Robbyn admitted.

“This coming from a girl who hasn’t seen her ‘boyfriend’ (I made air quotes) for two years because he claimed he was going in the Witness Protection Programme but (I held up my hand to interrupt her interrupting me), but he still manages to call and visit his mother.”

“I’ve told you before he just doesn’t want to endanger my life.”

“But he’ll endanger the life of his dear beloved mother. He’s a real catch he is.” I tried on my favourite green blouse with the jeans---- but it was my favourite. If the date was a disaster I didn’t want to ruin the shirt. I knew if the night turned out awful that I’d never want to wear the top again but then on the other hand it might bring me luck. But on the other hand (if a person had three hands) I knew my mother often said she wished she had eight) did I want to chance it.

In the end with Robbyn shaking her head at my inductiveness I decided on my old boring brown v-neck sweater. I liked it ok but if Mr. Right turned out to be Mr. Definitely Wrong I could gladly throw the sweater in the trash or wear it for painting which I did more of anyway than go out.