Sunday Snippets with Ginger #sundaysnips

Today, I'm sharing snippets from my current WIP, Sarah's Soul, coming from Books We Love early 2016.  Make sure to check out and bookmark the page now...especially my page.  *lol* While you're there, don't forget to enter our ongoing contest.

Hope you enjoy this foray into a mystery/suspense that haunts Sarah from the beginning of this new novel.  Remember this has yet to be edited, and is the first draft.  While you wait for me to finish this story, you may want to invest your time in reading Sarah's Heart & Passion, the map that will guide you to Manhattan and prepare you for what's happening next.  Hold on...it's a bumpy ride:

Sarah followed Marie down the bus stairs to the sidewalk.  Exhaust from the heavy traffic on the Manhattan street hung heavy in the air. Every nerve in Sarah’s body tingled, anticipating the worst. The constant turning of her head caused a cramp in her neck, but as her caller advised, she kept looking over her shoulder. Once inside her apartment building, she took a cleansing breath and shrugged several times to ease the tension in her shoulders.

Marie peered up the stairs. “Coast is clear.”

On the third landing, Marie peeked down the long hallway. “Coast is still clear.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Marie, you’re starting to sound like a TV program.”

Marie pulled her lips into a thin white ine. “Are you saying you want me to stop looking out for a problem? Just say the word. This isn’t all that fun, you know?”

“I’m sorry. I’m not being very nice. I really do appreciate everything you’re doing. Please, forgive my whiney tone. I’ve just reached my limit, that’s all.” She rubbed her forehead.

“Well, just a few more feet and we’ll be home.” Marie offered encouragement.

Sarah unlocked the door to a ringing phone. Her head lolled back and she heaved a heavy sigh. “Oh please. Not again.”

“I’ll get it,” Marie offered and grabbed the receiver.

Sarah laced the safety chain across the door and dead bolted it, wondering why her friend was so brave.

“Hello,” Marie answered.

“Is this Mrs. Elder?” A female voice asked.

“No, she isn’t available at the moment. May I tell her who called?”

“Adele from her bank. We received a notice to close her account and I wanted to make sure she authorized the note we received in the mail before we act. The signature doesn’t match what we have on file. Would you please have her return my call as soon as possible?”

Marie’s mouth gaped. “Wait…she’s right here.

“What is it?” Sarah asked, feeling her eyes widen.

Marie placed her hand over the receiver and thrust the phone at Sarah. “It’s the bank….”

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Now....please hop on over to the other gals who post on Sundays, and check out their offerings:

http://authorjamiehill.blogspot.com/  (Jamie Hill)

http://triciamg.blogspot.com (Tricia McGill)

http://romancingscifi.blogspot.com (Vijaya Schartz)

http://connievines.blogspot.com (Connie Vines)

http://yesterrdayrevisitedhere.blogspot.com/ (Juliet Waldron)

If you get a page that has an old post...just realize that life sometimes happens, and then check back next week.  I've missed a few myself...summer time is camping time and we don't always have Internet access.  Thanks for checking in and we hope you keep coming back.

Spooky Stuff...

How about this cover?  Dawne Dominique did a wonderful job of capturing the essence of  The Locket.  I don't have a release date yet, and I still have to spend time with an editor, but I'm so proud of this story, Halloween weekend seems a pretty good time to share a blurb and an excerpt.  I hope this whets your appetite enough to keep checking Eternal Press for the release date.

Blurb:

A simple, yet beautiful heart-shaped locket becomes the focus of appreciative and unsuspecting women.  Someone should warn them of the danger of owning the cursed piece.  But who?  Sadly, the previous owners are no longer around…nor are the loved ones they killed in a fit of unexplained rage.

Excerpt: (UNEDITED TEXT)

Boston – October, 1940

Sheila Townsend hauled open the heavy Cathedral door and slipped inside. She scurried up the long aisle into the safety of the confessional and collapsed. Panting, she creaked open the little sliding door. The priest’s outline loomed on the other side.    

"Father, forgive me, for I have sinned.” She swiped at her bangs, wet from the fog outside.

“How long has it been since your last confession?” The priest’s voice filtered through the mesh between them.

“Six months, Father.”

 “Tell me of your sins, my child.” 

“I-I’ve had evil thoughts and fear I’ve done something horrid.”

“What have you done?”

“I might have killed someone because of the curse.”

“Curse?”  The deep voice raised an octave.

“The one that plagues this locket.”  She dangled a necklace close to the screen. “I must leave it here with you and stop this madness.” 

Sheila rose, dropped the pendant onto the shelf separating parishioner from priest and fled without another word. The stained glass window in an image of the Holy Mother looked far less impressive at night than when the sun shone through the tinted panes. Pausing at the door, she secured her scarf over her head and pulled her coat collar higher.

 She leaned her weight against the door, allowing the breeze to flicker the candles at the altar. The gripping hatred that had consumed her for the last month melted away like snow in springtime. Her need to hurt someone had only intensified when she put a picture in the locket.  But now she was free—free from everything but the guilt and memories of plunging the knife into her boyfriend’s back.  

Stepping back into the misty night, she headed toward the river.  She hadn’t actually been honest with the priest.  The police were sure to soon find the body in her living room, and she no longer had a will to live. She’d made peace with the Lord now she needed to find peace with herself and what she’d done.

Father Finnegan’s brow furrowed at the woman’s sudden departure.  “A curse?”

He stood and pushed through the curtain at the rear of the confessional, walked around and opened the door to the parishioner’s side.  There, on the shelf lay the necklace the woman had left.  A heart-shaped gold locket hung from a long chain, and when opened, displayed a picture of a mustached gentleman wearing a black fedora.  Father Finnegan pinched the locket closed.  The pendant looked entirely harmless—nothing more than delicate piece of jewelry.

“What have you got there, Father?”

He turned to find Sister Mary Catherine.  “A locket… supposedly cursed.”  He laughed. “Me thinks ‘tis the soul of the person who left it who needs the blessing.”

“The jewelry looks to be a fine piece for the fund-raising bazaar, if you’ve no other plans for it.”  The nun smiled and opened her hand.

“You’re welcome to it.”  He dropped necklace into her waiting palm.  “Although the strange behavior of my last visitor surely makes me wonder what it is about this lovely piece she found so frightening.  Certainly not the picture of the handsome fellow inside.”

            Father Curtis arrived for his time in the confessional and Father Finnegan retired to his room via the kitchen, carrying a pot of hot tea.  He sat at a small round table in his sparsely decorated chamber and poured himself a cup of orange pekoe. With a glance at the golden crucifix above his bed, he crossed himself.

         The morning newspaper lay unread next to the ceramic teapot.  Prepared to unwind from the multitude of confessions heard earlier, he flicked open the publication and gasped at the picture adorning the front page beneath the words, “Found Murdered.”

            “Mary, Mother of God!”  He stared at the face from the locket.