Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57502 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 288(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57502 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 288(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
As people grouped up, they followed her to the counter, where the most awful looking dishes waited. Soggy coleslaw that gave off a slightly sour smell. Rubbery fried green tomatoes somehow both over and under cooked at the same time. A motor oil-thick gumbo with mystery meat. Heck, mystery everything. And goodness. Even the sweet tea appeared gritty with undissolved sugar. She must have added the sweetener while the tea was cold. The horror! And the cake. Oh heavens no. It was lopsided with thin, watery icing.
No one spoke a word for several minutes, everyone too busy fighting to maintain a look of non-horror.
Rolex jumped onto the counter, sniffed a dish, and hopped down.
“I did good, right?” the widow asked, hopeful and uncertain, yet somehow confident, too.
“So, so good,” Fiona praised, patting Tiffany on the shoulder. “Your hard work is a gift to each of us, and we are grateful. Aren’t we, gang?”
“Grateful,” many parroted.
“I helped with the catfish. A few pieces might be a little over sauteed, but the flavor is still excellent,” June piped up, and Fiona patted her shoulder too.
“Grateful,” everyone repeated.
“Please, dig in!” Tiffany said with a wave of her arm.
Unable to do anything else, they did. And, Jane noticed, the entire group cleaned their plates. Of course, the guys did their best to discreetly spit out their bites into napkins while Fiona and Jane choked everything down. The travesty of flavors nearly murdered her tongue, and her stomach threatened to rebel in a thousand different ways.
“I know my dishes don’t look like Jane’s or Fiona’s,” Tiffany said, beaming after swallowing a bite of a yellow blob, “but I see I had nothing to fear. This is actually pretty good.”
“So good,” someone muttered.
Jane made a few noises in the back of her throat.
“Give Jane her gift.” Wyatt nudged Conrad, who motioned to Beau, who stalked into the hall, disappearing from view.
“You know about this?” she asked her fiancé.
“He helped plan it,” Tiffany said with a grin. “He loves you so much, it’s disgusting, and I’m trying not to hate you.”
Beau reappeared with a huge, brand new white board, a variety dry erase pen pack and an eraser.
“I wanted you to have a board here, too.” Conrad slapped a dry erase marker in Jane’s hand. “So get back to work. You’ve got some threads to unravel.”
Oh! This was her true engagement present, wasn’t it? “I love it, and I love you. But I didn’t get you anything,” she groaned, gazing up at him with all kinds of remorse.
His amber eyes glittered, his features softening. “Yes, you did. You decided to fight for me. For us.”
Affection constricted her airways. He read her so well.
As excitement overtook her, she did exactly as requested, and got to work.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Just tell. Tell readers exactly how the character feels, thinks and moves.
Y’all Write Now–Advice for New Writers
by Tabby Paynes-Murksand
There was a new sheriff in town. Jane Eleanor Ladling, self-deputized and on the job.
In addition to the new murder board, Conrad provided a stack of photo IDs and access to clips of security footage, plus yarn and file folders in various colors, a map of the town square and magnets.
Her friends resumed the party, pretending to eat Tiffany’s food while tossing it in the garbage, so the widow’s feelings never got hurt and there were few leftovers.
Jane listed each suspect on the board, their location before, during and after the murder, and considered every possible partnership pairing, all while scrutinizing motives. And yes, okay, on the backside of the board, she adjusted her book outline as thoughts occurred to her. She now hated all the characters for some reason. Though the ghost berserker and his tragic backstory were her favorite part, they didn’t fit the narrative. And Beau was right. The talking tree needed a logical explanation to be there. On top of that, she still had no ending.
“Is she always like this?” June asked the group as a whole.
Jane’s trio of bridesmaids stood behind her, observing, supporting and making suggestions.
Fiona clucked her tongue. “Honestly, I’m not usually around for this side of her process.”
Focus. Jane stared at the names of her murder suspects until she had a clear direction. After grouping individuals together, she added motives and crossed out others. Conrad remained at her side, sneaking her house-made parmesan potato chips from Daisy’s he had stashed for a special occasion. But no matter what angle Jane considered for the case, her gut shouted, You’re missing something!
Argh! What? What wasn’t she seeing?
She dragged a hand over her hair, sparking an idea. “I need my phone.”
Beau strode over and offered her the device. "By the way. Holden found no bugs in the cottage.”
Then how had the killer known to use powder in the card? Although, it was a commonly used device in books and movies. She’d even uncovered it on a plotting website. Hey! Maybe the killer had visited the same sites?