Yes, today’s the day! CRUEL CHARADE is out from The Wild Rose Press– and its five-stars future looks good. Do you have your copy yet?
May 13, 1995
One year before The Incident
Bettina stumbled out the side door of the Barracuda Taphouse, straining to focus fuzzy eyes. Leaning against the side of the building, she muttered to herself.
I only took my attention off that pina colada for a minute. Someone dosed it. I’ve got to get straight. Now.
But she couldn’t. Her knees threatened to mutiny and drop her on the pavement. Music pulsed through the wall behind her. She started to spin out of control.
Five things. “Street lights. Blue Lexus. Palm trees.
Lady with a purse. Man with a purse.” Should it bother me that his is nicer?
She straightened her back against the bricks, her fingers scrabbling in the grooves for a handhold. Her eyes closed and the spinning got worse. She forced them open again.
Four things. “Bricks. Space between bricks.” She tapped her expensive shoe on the ground. “Sidewalk.” She didn’t dare let go to touch anything else. Her arm rubbed against hard plastic discs down her side. “Midnight blue sequins.” Her new blouse that screamed take me home to bed, stranger.
Three things. “Um…traffic. Drums. Horns beeping.”
Was her breathing easier? She thought so.
Two things. “Cigarette smoke.” She cast an envious glance at the couple standing half a block up with cancer sticks in hand. “Diesel fuel.”
One thing. She couldn’t taste anything at first. Whatever was in her system had taken over. Then bile swirled in her stomach and rose to the back of her throat. Burning, it made its way out as she vomited into a potted plant.
Now isn’t that a lovely picture. Up-and-coming criminal defense attorney ralphing al fresco like a common street drunk.
She wiped her mouth and faced the wall, drooping against it, one hand propping her up.
The door she’d come out of flew open. “Bet? Oh my God, what are you doing?” Mela grabbed her arm. “Are you all right?”
“Nope,” Bet replied. “I surely am not. Someone dosed me. I think it was that suave Nicaraguan.” Her stomach roiled and she threw up again.
“The one with the haircut? You think so?” Mela rubbed Bet’s back. “Come on, let’s get out of here before a Herald reporter shows up. That’s all you need is for Rich to have proof you’re unfit.”
Bet reared upward with a scowl. “I’m not unfit. I don’t have the children in my custody, do I? He won that round, damn it.”
What the story’s about: Miami attorney Bet Lenard has had a rough year. She’s battling an unknown illness that drives her to drink to cope with her pain. Her lawyer husband has divorced her and taken the best part of their business, their home and their children.
On the night of May 16, 1996, Bet finds herself in the Everglades in the middle of the night, drugged, lost and next to a burned car with a dead body in it. Hoping she’s hit bottom, Bet must drag herself out of her living hell and discover who tried to kill her. Was it her ex-husband, not satisfied with stealing everything that mattered? An angry client, unhappy with the outcome of their case? Her best friend’s husband, livid that Bet’s restraining order kicked him out of her life forever? Police officers fuming that Bet helped a client convict a dirty cop who was their friend? She has no idea.
As she tries to sort out the motives behind her would-be killer, even more suspects come to light. The only thing keeping Bet sane is her relationship with her therapist, who encourages her to struggle and survive, despite everything that’s gone wrong. How will Bet discover the truth and bring her enemy to justice before they strike again and, this time, succeed?
Where you can get it:
Amazon
Walmart
Target
BooksAMillion
IndieBound
Barnes & Noble
Kobo
Google Books
ITunes
You’ll like it–I promise!
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Alana Lorens, author 