#Excerpt “Malice & Forethought: Short Stories of Malice and Murder” by Felicia Denise

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“Cecil, you know those guys you were with? They’re not friendly guys like you, and they’re also not street punks. They run the streets for their local gangs, but it doesn’t end with them.”

Arrogant to the end, Cecil smirked. “You trying to make a point, Detective?”

Pat Sinclair leaned against the doorframe, crossing his ankles and folding his arms. “My point is we picked up two million dollars in cash, and coke with a street value of over six million. Your new friends? They deal in hundreds… maybe thousands, but millions? There’s someone bigger at the center of this. They didn’t get the drugs and we confiscated their money; someone will have to answer for that.”

Excerpt from “Burned”

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“Malice and Forethought:
Short Stories of Malice and Murder”

by Felicia Denise

What’s done in the dark always comes to the light.

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~~~

©2020 Felicia Denise, All Rights Reserved

Broken promises…

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Olivia falls back into old habits and defenses—a hard-line advocate for children during the day and a recluse by night, sequestered behind the large double oak doors of 4646 Beckwithe.

But it’s not as easy as she thought it would be… returning to the safety of the shadows. She’s seen as reckless and selfish, betraying those who have come to care about and trust her.

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Snippet

Deciding a glass of Merlot would relax her, Olivia padded down the hallway from her office to the bar in the den.
Before she reached the den, the chimes of her front door bell stopped Olivia in her tracks.
Her thick eyebrows knitted together as she cast a frown toward the foyer.
I never get visitor’s so who’s at my front door? She thought of Bruce and for a brief moment her heart raced as the corners of her mouth tried to morph into a smile. But her brain stepped in, reminding Olivia she sent Bruce away.
With a reluctant change in direction Olivia headed for the front door.
The chimes sounded two more making Olivia believe the person on the other side had an urgent matter to discuss. However, she was still caught off guard when she opened the door.
“You are such a liar!”
The attorney recoiled at the bitter insult flung at her by Casey Bellamy.
“C-Casey -”
“I trusted you! I believed you! Your words and promise meant nothing… you’re just a liar.”
The young woman’s voice grew louder. Despite the wild look in her eyes, Olivia pulled her inside and closed the door.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Casey, please. I need you to -”
“I don’t care what you need, Olivia.”
“Please.” Olivia held her hands out to Casey Bellamy. “I’m not a liar. At least tell me what you think I’ve done.”
“Oh, my God! Save the clueless act, Olivia. It’s condescending.”
“Look, -”
She shoved an angry finger in Olivia’s face. “You said you would never hurt my dad. You promised me you wouldn’t, Olivia, you promised!”

———————–

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Coming Soon! (Really!)

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We all have “baggage”…

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Sometimes we can get so caught up in the drama of our own lives we fail to see… or understand what’s going on around us—even with those we care most about.

Such is the case with Family Matters‘ Olivia Chandler.

After losing her parents and spending her formative years in the foster care system, Olivia’s mental and emotional trauma was very real. However, it’s twenty years later, and while Olivia is a successful child advocate attorney, the pain of her childhood is never far away. Even though she enters into professional counseling, Olivia is obsessed with the totality of her own suffering and it leads her to push everyone away… even the man who wants to share her life.

Bruce Bellamy wasn’t a child when life knocked him down but that doesn’t mean it hurt any less.

He understands Olivia and will do what it takes to be with her, if only she’d let him. For the first time in fifteen years, Bruce is ready to risk his heart even though it didn’t end well the last time.

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EXCERPT

When Bruce became a top name and moneymaker at the state level of racing, Joanna Hill was his steady girlfriend. And when Bruce gained national sponsorship and a spot on a professional team, Joanna became Mrs. Bruce Bellamy.
They led a charmed life for the next eight years. Their family grew by three and Joanna had everything she wanted—a big, expensive home, expensive cars, jewelry, an elaborate, designer wardrobe, and money in the bank.
What she didn’t have was an interest in Bruce’s career… just the money he made.
Had Joanna been paying attention, she would have known her husband was not happy. Bruce enjoyed racing and was a dedicated team member, but his heart wasn’t in it.
He didn’t want to race cars, he wanted to fix them, enhance them and make them high-performing machines. Like his father and grandfather, being an auto mechanic was in his blood and something he couldn’t shake.
When Bruce’s contract was up for renewal, he thanked his manager and team members, but declined. He felt good about his decision until he told his wife.
Joanna was livid.
Racing gave her the lifestyle she craved. How would Bruce take care of her?
Taking note Joanna said her and not her and the kids or their family, Bruce explained his plans to go into business with his dad and expand his current shop.
She scoffed at his pipe dream.
Bruce now realized Joanna would have left him right then had she not been four months pregnant with Breck.
At the time, however, he’d been hopeful. They had a great financial cushion and he had five months to show his wife everything would work out.
But things never go as planned.
Joanna sulked for the rest of her pregnancy, She paid little attention to Bruce or their children and never attended another Bellamy family event. Even on the afternoon Breck was born, Joanna gave him a cursory glance and requested he be fed in the hospital nursery.
Their home life turned into a nightmare.
Beds went unmade, Patrick and Casey were always late for school and Bruce’s family saved them from living on take-out.
Each day brought a new temper tantrum from Joanna. She wanted to take her mom to Vegas. She wanted to take her best friend to Hawaii. She wanted a nanny. The requests were endless, as were Bruce’s refusals.
Her disregard for him was annoying, but Joanna’s neglect of their children was inexcusable. His mother and aunt were at his home caring for the children so much his father and uncle complained.
Grateful for the assistance from his family and not wanting to cause anymore upset, Bruce re-thought the idea of a nanny. He hated the thought of giving in to Joanna’s selfishness, but he’d do anything for his family.
Life… and Joanna had other plans.
Arriving home late one evening, Bruce found his mother sitting in the family room and his children asleep.
The pained expression on her face bothered him but before he could ask why she was there, Bettie Bellamy blurted out, “She’s gone.”
He didn’t flinch.
“Do the kids know?”
She shook her head. “Joanna waited until they were asleep.”
Not up for any discussion, Bruce sent his mother home. When the tail-lights of her car disappeared from sight, he raced upstairs to his children.
Six-year-old Casey slept soundly in her Care Bear-inspired room. She clutched a natty Winnie-the-Pooh bear she’d been dragging around since her toddler days. Bruce kissed her forehead and went to the boys’ room next door.
Three-year-old Shaun and seven-year-old Patrick were asleep in Patrick’s bed after what Bruce was certain was an attempt to look at picture books by flashlight.
In the adjacent room, baby Breck lay in his crib cooing, preoccupied with his hand.
Bruce gathered him up in his arms and sat in the rocking chair next to the window.
He rocked his son long into the night. Even after Breck fell asleep, Bruce rocked, unsure of what to do next.

———————–

Will Bruce be able to make Olivia understand everyone has baggage?

~~~

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Coming Soon! (Really!)

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After Work

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A scene from Heartburn which I am absolutely clueless about! 😀

Making her way to the elevator just after 6:30, Quinn was glad to see the end of the day. She spent the afternoon wheeling and dealing like a Wall Street broker securing new health plans to replace Martech after their premium rate hike. Quinn was successful so far, but at the expense of a migraine trying to form behind her eyes.

Pushing the down button, Quinn leaned her head against the cool, marble wall while she waited for the elevator.

“That kind of day, huh?

Quinn turned to find Fletcher Morgan… standing unusually close to her. She hadn’t even heard him approach.

“Unfortunately, yes. But it’s over… for now. It’s safe to make my escape.”

Fletcher nodded, knowingly. “Funny how a forty-hour work week so easily turns into sixty… or more. It seems like we’re always here. I’m sure your husband will be happy to see you walk through the door.”

Quinn quickly looked away and was saved from responding when the elevator doors opened.

Frowning, Fletcher followed her into the car. “Where are you parked?”

“Um… garage level four. Thanks.”

“I’m on four, too.” Pushing the button, Fletcher leaned against the lift wall. “Quinn, did I say something wrong?”

She stared at the descending floor numbers.

“Quinn?”

Smiling faintly with a half shrug, Quinn looked into Fletcher’s eyes for the first time. “I’m going through a divorce, Fletcher.”

The young man froze… momentarily speechless.

“Quinn, I-I… dammit! I feel like such an idiot! I had no idea. Please forgive me for speaking out of turn.”

“It’s okay, Fletcher. You didn’t know. Although, I’m pretty sure you’re probably one of the last few in the building who didn’t know.” She laughed easily.

Fletcher watched her… confused.

“Well… um, you seem to be dealing with it pretty well.”

“It didn’t just happen. It’s been a few months, and honestly — I waited far too long.” Before Fletcher could respond, the elevator doors opened. Quinn quickly exited the lift, heading for her car, pausing long enough for a quick goodbye. “Have a good eve-…”

“How are you really doing, Quinn? I know it’s stressful. My divorce two years ago had me drinking way too much.”

“That bad, huh?”

He nodded.

“It has been stressful. He keeps finding ways to stall, and while he’s stalling, he, along with our families gang up on me trying to make me change my mind.”

“He’s still in love with you?”

“Oscar is in love with Oscar… and the thought of marriage.”

“If he’s going through so much trouble to stall, maybe he’s learned his lesson and reconciliation is possible.”

Quinn smirked.

“It might be a possibility for him, but not for me. He should have thought about that before he cheated… several times.” She saw a flash of anger in his eyes, but it quickly disappeared.

“Are you kidding me? The man was married to you”, he pointed at her, “and he cheated? Is he a sighted man?”

The laugh escaped her lips before she could stop it.

“Seriously, Quinn Landon. You’re a beautiful woman. I don’t know you well personally, but I hear nothing but good things about you around the company. Forgive me for being so forward, but I think your husband — soon-to-be-ex-husband — is an idiot.”

Ducking her head as heat flooded her face, Quinn was grateful her mocha skin hid her blush.

“Thank you, Fletcher. That’s so kind of you to say.”

“You’re welcome. May I ask if you have a good attorney? Your assets being protected?”

“He’s a great attorney, and I’m not giving up a thing. What’s mine stays mine.”

“Good. My ex-wife came into the marriage with nothing, attempted to spend half of what I had while we were married, and tried to take the rest with her after I filed for divorce. This is a community property state, but no need to get carried away.”

“Exactly!”

He reached out and touched her arm. “It will get better, you know?”

Quinn nodded.

“I know. I’m just ready for the storm to pass. I need some sunshine in my life.”

Fletcher nodded in agreement, the firm set of his jaw instantly making Quinn think of John Wick. Damn that Priscilla! She bit the inside of her jaw to keep from smiling.

©2017 Felicia Denise, Al Rights Reserved

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“Where is your joy, Lennie?”

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In this short excerpt, Lenore Porter is reading a letter from her beloved Aunt Diane who recently passed away.

In every area of your life, you always stood out. You never tried to be the center of attention or sought the limelight, but it found you! It always found you! Your beautiful inner light shone like a beacon drawing people to you. You were never a vain or prideful child, but your dignity and grace were evident long before you reached your adult years. Why are you allowing this man to dim your light?

And you are allowing it, Lennie. I don’t for one minute believe that Ranard controls or dominates you in any way. He’s more like an unruly child acting out and you’re the tolerant, long-suffering parent.

That’s not what marriage is about, Lennie.

I’ve watched you both when you weren’t looking. I’ve never seen him hold your hand, or kiss or caress your cheek. I’ve never heard him compliment you, or say anything positive about you. But I held out hope. You have a reason for everything you do, so I knew there was a reason you married that man. But was it love, Lennie?

As your third anniversary fast approaches, you’ve already been married longer than Conrad and me. But we had so much joy and laughter, Lennie. We were disappointed I didn’t get pregnant before he shipped out, but it didn’t dampen our happiness one bit.

Where is your joy, Lennie? What makes you happy? It has to be more than your children because they will grow up and leave for their own life journeys. I speak from experience even though I wasn’t blessed to be a mother. I shared my sister’s heartache and anxiety when you left.

I also shared my concerns about you with her after our vacation. I was both relieved and saddened to find out she understood and felt the same way. Relieved because I now had someone to talk to about it – I couldn’t talk to you, Lennie. I knew you’d be angry and I didn’t want to lose you – and I was also sad because if Linda saw the same problems, they were real and not the overactive imagination of a nosy old woman.

I’ve always known you would be my heir. I almost told you on a couple of occasions, but I knew you’d insist that I sell everything and donate the money to some organization saving whales, or hamsters, or gophers… or whatever is all the rage at the moment. But no, I want you to have what was mine. It gives me peace to know I can do this one last thing for you and the children.

However, I am not done. I’m sure you’re fit to be tied by now. Clutching this letter with both hands, beads of perspiration forming on your forehead as you think about digging up my body to tell me about my bossy self.

My sweet Lennie Penny.

I hope you are sitting down because if you are angry with me now, by the time you finish this letter, you WILL dig up my body!

©2017 Felicia Denise, All Rights Reserved

Synopsis

Lenore Porter’s life had not gone as she planned.

The marriage she put her heart and soul into failed.

The man she sacrificed so much for abandoned her.

But Lennie refused to be broken. She pushed on, running a successful business and raising her three sons alone.

Through health scares and severe family dysfunction and trauma which forever changed their lives, the Porter family clung to each other to keep from sinking into the darkness.

With her marriage over long ago and her adult sons living their own lives, Lenore Porter decides to sell the cold fortress she worked so hard to make a warm, loving home.

A short, final inspection of her former home turns into a confrontation with ghosts from the past, and decisions and events Lennie felt she’d dealt with and moved on from.

Free, a Novella is a short, clean read recounting one woman’s determination to not be broken by life or lose her identity.

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The Toast (Calla)

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This is another unedited excerpt of Calla, my 2017 Camp Nano project.

Time for her speech and toast.

Standing and walking over to Gibson, Calla pulled a face at the good-natured comments from the wedding guests.

“It’s your turn, Calla!”

“Girl, you’re the last one!”

“Marry me, Calla!”

Her poker face grew into a wide, warm grin. She looked around the room, seeing people who’d known her for a lifetime, knowing they only wanted her to be happy.

When Calla raised the mic to speak, Gibson, who was still at her side, pulled the mic in his direction.

“Don’t worry, Reedsville fam, I have plans for Miss Calla.”

Catcalls and whistles rose in the room again, with a noted deep growl from Birdy Ellison, the man who’d shouted, “Marry me, Calla” only moments before.

With a smile of pure innocence, Calla pulled the mic back to her mouth. “Don’t you have enough ex-wives, Gibby?”

Flinching, Gibson grabbed his chest, feigned a stumble and laughed all the way back to his seat as the crowd applauded Calla’s witty response.

Calla tried to control her own laughter as she raised her hands to quiet the room.

“I can’t remember a time in my life which didn’t include Tena Evers. We played with dolls together as little girls. When we got tired of the dolls, we forced the boys to let us play cowboys and Indians with them. We watched all the dance shows and practiced the latest steps. Once our moves were flawless, we’d go to the dances and make the boys dance with us.”

Peers yelled out in agreement. Members of older and younger generations nodded and commented on how nothing ever changes.

“Something happened in high school. Those same boys we’d bossed around as kids, we were now afraid to even speak to. But we would look. Oh, my lord, we would look. What I didn’t know at first was Tena was only looking at one boy we didn’t know well. She confessed to me after she and the boy met at their fathers’ company picnic.”

Calla turned to her best friend.

“That fall, we went to our school’s first football game. We bought programs like we always did, but could never find by the end of the game. Not this time. I didn’t realize it at the time, but Tena never rolled or folded her program. A few weeks later during a sleepover at Tena’s, of course, the conversation turned to boys. I teased her about Ronnie Calvert following her around all the time.”

Seated at a far table, Ronnie Calvert laughed out loud only to be smacked on the arm by his wife, Pam, a large, sober-faced woman with no sense of humor.

“Tena laughed and shook her head. She walked over to her dresser, took something out and turned around.”

Calla looked at the crowd and smiled.

“It was the program from the football game, without a wrinkle or tear. She held it with near reverence as she returned to sit on the bed. Opening it, she turned past all the ads and team photos, stopping at the individual player headshots. Handing me the open program, she said, ‘Ronnie’s a nice guy, but I’m going to marry him.’”

Calla looked back to the newlyweds.

“I took the program, and I was staring down into the face of Reedsville High’s star wide receiver, Lloyd Taylor.”

Thunderous applause erupted as wedding guests took to their feet in approval.

Lloyd caressed his new wife’s cheek, lost in her eyes.

Calla held up her hand once again to quiet the crowd.

“Whether you’re sixteen or sixty, you know when you’ve met the love of your life and two hearts bond. It’s a bond time and distance and other people cannot break. It’s the bond Tena and Lloyd share and which has brought them to this day.”

Calla raised her glass, joined by the wedding guests.

“To Mr. And Mrs. Taylor!”

Calla winked at Tena, grinned mischievously and said, “And they lived happily ever after!”

Tena roared with laughter. She should have known her best friend would go through with the dare.

Lloyd looked between Tena and Calla, puzzled.

Calla smirked and sipped her champagne.

Before Lloyd could question his bride, Neeri appeared to rush them to the center of the room for their first dance as man and wife.

While all eyes watched the happy couple dance and sing along to “Spend My Life with You” by Eric Benet and Tamia, Calla settled into her chair, grateful to be off her still-aching feet.

©Felicia Denise 2017

“A thirty-minute conversation changed their lives…”

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Excerpt

Lennie leaned down, kissed his forehead and placed the napkin across her father’s lap. Just as she got it in place, Burt looked up at her.

Lenore was gutted.

More pieces of her already broken heart fell away.

His ashen skin, mottling and in different shades of brown and gray unsettled her. His slack jaw and visible body tremors made Lennie shudder. His eyes were her undoing. The mischievous gleam responsible for so much laughter, which had helped to comfort, console, and encourage her… was gone.

Father and daughter were still eye-to-eye, the reality of the situation holding Lennie in place when she felt his frail hand cover hers.

“Thank… you, baby girl.”

Lennie smiled and kissed his cheek, comforted with the knowledge she made her father happy. “You’re welcome, Daddy… always.”

Before Lennie could retrieve his dinner plate, Linda Kelimore was already cutting the meat into tiny portions.

“I’ll help your father with this, Lenore. Take the other plate for yourself.”

“But that’s yours, mom.”

“It will be cold before I get to it. Go on, eat. I know you’ve been on your feet since the lunch rush.”

Just like that, Lennie was twelve years old again, doing as she was told.

Picking at her food, she tried not to stare at her parents. But Lennie couldn’t help but be mesmerized. Watching as her mother fussed and cooed in loving tones at Burt to take his time and chew each tiny bite of food. Linda caressed his cheek between bites. Burt rested his hand on her knee, never taking his eyes off Linda’s face.

Feeling like an intruder on a private moment, Lennie did force herself to look away.

Anyone who knew Burt and Linda Kelimore knew they were totally devoted to each other. More than half a century had passed since the day they each ran into a mechanic’s shop in need of quick repairs. Though they were both on their way to meet other people, a thirty-minute conversation changed their plans for the evening and the rest of their lives.

“Free, a Novella” by Felicia Denise

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©2017 Felicia Denise

“…waltz in off the street.” #Excerpt

The diminutive nurse seated before Olivia appeared to enjoy taking rudeness to new heights.

“This is the Critical Care Unit. We simply cannot have anyone off the street waltz in here and upset our patients. Mr. Averest is a very sick man and needs his rest.”

Olivia let the obvious insult pass, but was tiring of this chick’s attitude.

“I’ve told you who I am, showed you my identification, and told you why I’m here. If you cannot allow me in to see Mr. Averest, perhaps you can tell me who his physician of record is? I’ll speak with him or her and get written permission to see Mr. Averest. Will that satisfy you?”

The nurse smirked.

“I thought you said you’re a lawyer? Then you should know it’s against the law for me to give you patient information and – “

Olivia cut her off.

“It’s against the law for you give me medical information, and I haven’t asked you for any.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway because Mr. Averest’s attorney left express instructions for staff not to speak with anyone about his condition or let anyone see him.” The irritating woman stood, adjusted her smock and walked to the other end of the counter.

Olivia frowned.

“His attorney?”

“Did I stutter?”

Rage gripped Olivia. She’d had enough of this self-important little twit.

“Did this attorney have Mr. Averest’s power of attorney, or legal documents appointing him as guardian?”

The nurse’s face fell.

“I don’t know, but- “

“So, you’re telling me you allowed someone to just waltz in here off the street and tell you what to do without knowing if they even had the legal right to?”

The nurse’s face went from pink to a deep shade of red.

“I-I…he said…” she reached for the phone. “I’ve had enough of you! I’m calling security!”

Olivia crossed her arms on the counter and smiled.

“Please do. And while I wait for them, let me tell what’s going to happen next.”

The woman stopped dialing and glared at Olivia.

“After I’m escorted from the building, I’m heading back to Spring Falls… and the judge who assigned me to this case. I will tell him how uncooperative you were, and how you refused to allow me to see Duncan Averest or even tell me who his physician is, making it impossible for me to do the job he appointed me to do. I’ll also tell him how you caused me public embarrassment by having me removed from the building. I know this judge. He hates people getting in his way. So, guess what? He’ll get on the phone and talk with this hospital’s administrators and warn them to get their legal department ready because I’ll be returning with a pile of injunctions and contempt of court citations. And one of them will have your name on it,” she glanced at the woman’s employee badge for the first time, “Katrina.”

Olivia grabbed her laptop bag and purse and headed for the elevators. “I’ll wait over here for security.”

“He’s in 3502.”

Olivia fought to keep the smile off her face. She turned and looked at the woman, then glanced down the hallway of patients’ rooms. Returning her gaze to the woman who had given her such a bad time, Olivia almost felt guilty for the fear she saw in her eyes. Almost. Without another word, she went in search of room 3502.

Attempting to shake off her encounter with Nurse Know-it-all, Olivia stopped abruptly when she entered 3502. Her anger returned with a vengeance when she realized she’d been deliberately given the wrong room number.

She was going to bury this hospital in contempt of court citations!

©Felicia Denise 2016

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“In the Best Interest of the Child”

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#Excerpt “In the Best Interest of the Child” by Felicia Denise

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She was still two steps away from the large, ornate, mahogany door when it opened. Olivia slowed her steps, curious to see who already knew of her arrival.

Olivia’s eyes were focused on the area of the doorway where someone of average height might appear. She was almost in the doorway when she realized someone was standing in front of her.

The description of Marie Averest given to Olivia came to mind as she glanced down.

Impeccably dressed with flawless makeup and hair, Olivia felt like a giant standing before the woman. She stood nearly a foot taller than the diminutive senior citizen. Her height was not so much the surprise as was her weight. Marie Averest didn’t appear to weigh more than one hundred pounds. Still, while her appearance said affluence, her eyes told Olivia two things. First, while Duncan felt he and Rena shared the same grin, and she resembled Irene in every other way, it was Rena’s eyes staring back at Olivia from her grandmother’s face.

The second thing Olivia noticed was Marie had suffered. Trauma, depression, or grief, Olivia didn’t know. But she had seen that look too many times before in the faces of her young clients… and in her own mirror, not to recognize it.

As the passing seconds made the silence awkward, it was Olivia who spoke first. “Mrs. Averest?”

Marie nodded slightly.

“You have to be Ms. Chandler. Welcome to my home. Please, come in.”

Hearing the older woman’s voice, Olivia knew immediately what she saw in her eyes.

Fear.

Without her timid demeanor, Olivia would describe Marie as soft-spoken. But the shaky, near-whisper voice hinted that Marie was afraid of something…or someone.

Olivia stepped inside past Marie, looking around the foyer.

The top half of the hallway walls were covered in linen wallpaper which appeared to be an antique white.

A narrow entry table and two small Quaker-inspired chairs were the only items in the foyer, but all were made of a dark wood Olivia didn’t recognize and polished to a high gloss. The style said English and old, and perfectly matched the half-wall paneling.

Olivia frowned.

Paneling? Now there’s something you don’t see much of anymore.

Despite the light-colored wallpaper, the dark wood elements simply overwhelmed the entrance and gave it an eerie feel. Olivia felt any horror or paranormal movie could be filmed right where she was standing.

These people have a thing for darkness.

It also wasn’t lost on Olivia that even though the small area would never be part of a magazine layout of design tips, it was expensive… very expensive. Duncan’s comment came to mind.

“My father is not super wealthy, but he likes for people to believe he is.”

Moving the Brigg attaché from one hand to the other, Olivia was ready for Charles Averest. Still waiting for direction from Marie, Olivia found she was still standing near the front door.

Olivia smiled, but the tiny woman simply pointed past Olivia down a hallway. Glancing in the same direction, Olivia saw there was a door ajar at the end of the hallway. Turning back to thank Marie, Olivia only saw her back… as she scurried away through another door off the foyer.

Olivia frowned.

What is going on in this house?

Realizing it wasn’t her problem…and she really didn’t care, Olivia headed towards the open door. Just as she reached the doorway, the door was quickly pulled all the way open by Charles Averest. Olivia skillfully hid her surprise for as tiny and petite as Marie Averest was, her husband was the exact opposite. Well over six feet tall, he still looked pretty good for a man in his seventies. Broad shouldered and muscle-toned, Olivia might have called him handsome. With his thin, snow white hair and equally white, closely trimmed beard and sideburns, he could have passed for Colonel Sanders’ brother…if not for the ridiculous, honey blond toupee perched on top of his head.

“You must be Mr. Averest.” He glared down at her, not even trying to hide his contempt.

“I am not happy about this meeting or having you in my home, young lady! I’m only allowing this because you threatened me!”

Returning his glare, Olivia had to will away the sneer twitching in her top lip.

“I do not threaten people, Mr. Averest. I gave you options. This meeting could just have easily been held in my office or a judge’s chamber. YOU chose your home.”

Not even waiting for an invitation into the room, Olivia walked past Charles. “And my name is Olivia Chandler. You can call me Ms. Chandler.” When Olivia planned this meeting, she knew she would have to control her temper, but wasn’t prepared for it to flare so soon after her arrival.

The room appeared to be Charles Averest’s office… and another decorating nightmare.

Placing her attaché on a table near the center of the room, Olivia didn’t miss the movement to her far left, and casually said, “Hello, John. How are you?”

When she turned towards him, she caught the stunned expression on his face before he schooled his features.

“I’m good, Olivia. But forgive me if I’m a bit confused as to why you’re here. Don’t you have enough to do in kiddie-court?”

Olivia’s smile morphed into a smirk.

“I was wondering the same about you, John? I mean, why are you here? I thought martini lunches lasted until 3.”

She turned back to the attaché before he could answer and flipped the latches, but paused and gave him a side glance. “But then, I am an attorney, right? Even though my arena is… what did you call it? Kiddie-court? And you wouldn’t want me talking to your client without legal representation, would you, John?”

“Now see here, Ms. Chandler! Exactly what is this all about?”

Charles Averest walked towards her, trying to loom over Olivia and use his height to intimidate her. It had no effect. John Campbell Brock rushed to his client’s side.

John Campbell Brock rushed to his client’s side.

“Calm down, Charles. I’m sure Ms. Chandler won’t take up too much of your time, will you- “

“When did you learn of the car accident your son and his family were involved in, Mr. Averest?”

Olivia cut John off without so much as a glance.

“What does that-“

Olivia didn’t miss a beat.

“When did you learn of it? How did you find out?”

John exhaled loudly.

“I really must ask you to tell us what this is about or leave, Olivia. Mr. Averest is a prominent man in the community and my friends down at the courthouse will not be pleased with your treatment of him.”

Olivia folded her arms across her chest.

“My treatment of him?”

She looked at Charles. “My treatment of you? Am I mistreating you, Mr. Averest? I feel I’ve been rather pleasant. And I’ve definitely treated you far better than you have your own granddaughter.” She relished the stunned looks on the two men’s faces before continuing. “Since you’re reluctant to give me any information, I’ll share some with you.” As she half-turned to the attaché, she looked back at them, allowing her gaze to drift from their faces to their feet and back. “You’ll probably want to take a seat now.”

“My treatment of you? Am I mistreating you, Mr. Averest? I feel I’ve been rather pleasant. And I’ve definitely treated you far better than you have your own granddaughter.” She relished the stunned looks on the two men’s faces before continuing. “Since you’re reluctant to give me any information, I’ll share some with you.” As she half-turned to the attaché, she looked back at them, allowing her gaze to drift from their faces to their feet and back. “You’ll probably want to take a seat now.”

Olivia relished the stunned looks on the two men’s faces before continuing. “Since you’re reluctant to give me any information, I’ll share some with you.” As she half-turned to the attaché, she looked back at them, allowing her gaze to drift from their faces to their feet and back. “You’ll probably want to take a seat now.”

“Since you’re reluctant to give me any information, I’ll share some with you.” As she half-turned to the attaché, she looked back at them, allowing her gaze to drift from their faces to their feet and back. “You’ll probably want to take a seat now.”

As she half-turned to the attaché, she looked back at them, allowing her gaze to drift from their faces to their feet and back. “You’ll probably want to take a seat now.”

Charles and John exchanged nervous glances before moving to chairs near the table.

She locked her eyes on Charles Averest.

“You received word of the car accident soon after it happened. Probably from someone who heard Duncan’s last name. Unfortunately, because of his injuries, Duncan was the last living victim to be removed from the scene. You arrived shortly after the medi-copter carrying your son. While he was being prepped for surgery, you learned your daughter-in-law was killed in the accident.”

Charles huffed at the term she used for Irene.

Arms still folded, Olivia walked over to Charles and stood in front of him, leaning her hip against the table.

“See? That right there? That sound you just made? That’s the crux of the problem, Mr. Averest… your indifference – your lack of compassion or concern for the two most important people in your son’s life.”

John leaped to his feet.

“Olivia! You’ve gone too far!”

She replied without taking her eyes off Rena’s grandfather.

“Sit down, John.”

The arrogant attorney bristled.

“Who the hell- “

Olivia’s calm voice didn’t match the flash of anger in her eyes.

“Watch yourself, Brock. You’re going to need a friend… soon.”

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“Free, a Novella” by Felicia Denise #ExcerptReveal

In this short excerpt, Lenore Porter is reading a letter from her beloved Aunt Diane who recently passed away.

That’s not what marriage is about, Lennie.

My sweet Lennie Penny.

I hope you are sitting down because if you are angry with me now, by the time you finish this letter, you WILL dig up my body!

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“Free, a Novella”

Author: Felicia Denise

Genre: Women’s Fiction

Release Date: May 30, 2017

Synopsis

Lenore Porter’s life had not gone as she planned.

The marriage she put her heart and soul into failed.

The man she sacrificed so much for abandoned her.

But Lennie refused to be broken. She pushed on, running a successful business and raising her three sons alone.

Through health scares and severe family dysfunction and trauma which forever changed their lives, the Porter family clung to each other to keep from sinking into the darkness.

With her marriage over long ago and her adult sons living their own lives, Lenore Porter decides to sell the cold fortress she worked so hard to make a warm, loving home.

A short, final inspection of her former home turns into a confrontation with ghosts from the past, and decisions and events Lennie felt she’d dealt with and moved on from.

Free, a Novella is a short, clean read recounting one woman’s determination to not be broken by life or lose her identity.

99¢!

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Goodreads http://bit.ly/FreeANovella

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