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An excerpt from Ink, Red, Dead, newly revised and expanded, by Joanna Campbell Slan. (Grab it before the price goes up to $9.99! Go to http://tinyurl.com/inkred )

 

“You need a Diet Dr Pepper?” asked Dodie as she set one at my elbow.

          “You read my mind,” I said.

          “Whatever it is that’s bothering you, Sunshine, you’ll feel better about it when you’ve gotten more rest. Things always look their worst when you’re tired.” Her large hand patted my shoulder as she scooted a cold aluminum can my way. I took the cold Diet Dr Pepper and then realized, this behavior was totally out of character for Dodie.

          “Sheila called you.”

          “Yes, she did.” My boss didn’t even have the good grace to look embarrassed.

          “That’s not fair!”

          “She was worried about you.”

          “I bet.”

          “You ran over her neighbor’s mailbox,” said Dodie. “And you kept on going.”

          “I wondered what that bumpity-bump-bump-bump noise was.”

          “Now you know. That was the sound of a once sturdy four-by-four being dragged along a city street. In Ladue.”

          “Argh,” I groaned and rested my forehead on my arms again. “That’ll be an expensive fix.”

          “Not really. Robbie and the neighbor discussed the damage. Seems that the neighbor has wanted to put up a brick mailbox stand for years. Robbie offered to help. You’re in the clear, Sunshine.”

          “Argh,” I groaned again, but the Diet Dr Pepper was definitely lifting my spirits. “Dodie, do you think there’s only one person in the world for each of us? A soul mate? Just one?”

          She fiddled with her Coke can. “That’s what I tell Horace. That he’s my one and only.”

          “So you do believe it.”

          “No, but I’m a good liar. Especially when it counts. There’s no reason for Horace to think he’s replaceable. He’s not. And I’m not about to go looking. But do I really believe there’s only one person for each of us? No. There are millions upon millions of people in this world. I think you could love and live with at least a handful.”

          I wiped my eyes and took a big drink of my Dr Pepper. “A handful.”

          “At least. Now get to work. I’m not paying you to sit around and wax philosophical.”

          She’d almost made it back to the stock room when I called out, “Dodie? Thank you.”

          “It’s okay, Sunshine. My therapist’s license never came through. The advice I gave you is worth exactly what you paid for it.”

         

Ink, Red, Dead Will Be Free for Three Days!

You can download Ink, Red, Dead for FREE from Oct. 5 thru 7 (Saturday through Monday) by going to http://tinyurl.com/inkred  Here's the deal: As long as you keep spread the word and tell your friends about my free offers, I'll continue making my books available for FREE for a limited time!

 

 

An Excerpt from

Ink, Red, Dead

 

Note: The new revision is book length with craft "how to" information and recipes!

 

By Joanna Campbell Slan

Copyright 2013

 

 

 Note: The new revision is book length with craft "how to" information and recipes!

~

In the chronology of Kiki's life this book is now Book #3 in the series, falling between Cut, Crop and Die; and Photo, Snap, Shot. Kiki is assisting her friend Mert in cleaning out a hoarder's house. Because the place is so gross, Kiki is wearing a Tyvek suit and headgear, despite the fact that the heat outside is beastly!

~

 

 

I was rubbing at my skin fiercely when something landed on the top of my head.

I whooped with fear, batting at my hood with both hands.

No one heard me because everyone else was busy in other corners of the house. Trudy in the back bedroom. Johnny in the garage. Mert in the kitchen.

          The thing on my head slipped to one side. Tiny pinpricks stabbed through the Tyvek and into my scalp. A tiny yellow paw appeared through the lenses of my goggles. I held perfectly still. Was it possible that a cat had landed on me? Had one been overlooked?

          But this…this thing on my head was far too light to be a cat.

 I froze, strained my ears, and was rewarded by the tiniest “meow” ever, in a voice so hoarse I nearly missed it. Slowly I moved my hand upwards. Finally, I plucked from my head a palm-sized yellow tabby. He stared at me with lime-green eyes and tried to “meow” again but nothing came out.

          “You poor little tyke. They rounded up everyone else, didn’t they? Let’s see what we can do for you.”

          I carried the kitten over to Mert, who’d been working in Marla’s bedroom. We walked outside. She pulled off her hood, glanced down at the kitten, and gave me a glum look. “He’ll probably die.”

          “What?” I cradled the cat to my chest. “What do you mean, die? He’ll be okay. Has to!”

          She sighed. “Most of Marla’s cats were sick. If this one don’t have feline distemper, it’s a miracle. You can’t take him home because he’ll only kick the kitty litter bag over on you—and that would break your heart.”

          “He’ll make it. You can tell he’s a fighter. His name is Martin.” I said without thinking. I don’t know why I called him “Martin,” but it fit.

          “Martin, huh? Oh, boy. Change outta your biohazard suit and drive him over to the shelter. See what they say, then get right back here.”

          Handing him to Mrs. Gershin, the shelter volunteer, nearly did me in. Martin clung to me. On the ride over, he’d curled up in my lap and purred. Now he cried out hoarsely, as the volunteer tried to disentangle him from my clothes. He gripped me with his claws and seemed to beg me not to walk away.

          Mrs. Gershin wrinkled her nose behind big trifocal glasses that magnified her eyes to comic proportions. “Yours? You giving him up?”

          “Gosh, no.” I explained who I was and how I found him.

          “Sad day. We’ve put twenty-two cats to sleep already.” She held up Martin with one hand and examined him carefully. “Very young. I’d guess he’s two weeks old. See how his ears are still folded over? This one will need to be hand-fed.”

          “I’ll do it. I’ll hand feed him.”

          “You want to get up every four hours?”

          I swallowed hard. “Uh, no. But I will.”

“Hey there, little boy,” cooed Mrs. Gershin.

 “His name is Martin.”

          A flicker of a smile started on Mrs. Gershin’s face and blossomed into a big grin. “You’re sunk. Once you name them, you claim them.”

          I figured as much. “I have to get back to work.”

          “We close at five. Come back then. I’ll give you instructions for feeding Martin. We’ll have the vet check him. You do know you’ll have to encourage his bowels to move, don’t you?”

          “I’ve probably encouraged bowel movements in the past. But not on purpose.”

          She grinned. “Let’s see if we can perfect your technique.”

**
Remember: This is a limited time offer. The book is FREE on three days only--Saturday, October 5; Sunday, October 6; and Monday, October 7. After that it will go back to full retail price of $9.99.  Get your copy today at http://tinyurl.com/inkred