About the Book:
Stalked, assaulted, and left for dead, Marlena thinks her life is over. Then she meets Destiny and they decide to take matters into their own hands. For these two, justice has a new meaning. It's called revenge.
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Read an Excerpt from Telephone Road
SCENE: At the carnival … thrown together by circumstance … falling for each other
Jimmy smiled as I looked up from my phone, and I smiled back. I’d heard he went off to Tarleton State or Sul Ross, one of those Texas agriculture colleges. I remembered seeing him at school in that very same dark blue jacket, climbing out of his red pickup truck with The Double L Ranch sign on the door. I’d always admired how the bright gold embroidery stood out against the navy corduroy fabric of that jacket. Now I noticed how the deep blue color made his gray eyes look as mysterious as rain clouds.
“Which bear do you want?” He nodded toward the nearby Pitch-Till-U-Win game booth.
“The blue one,” I said, “if you think you can win it.” I don’t know what made me so bold. He just seemed so shy. Or maybe the night simply required it. The air was thick with the scent of popcorn and possibility.
Jimmy grinned, paid the barker a five, picked up his three balls, threw them in quick succession, wham, wham, wham, and all three weighted milk bottles toppled one after the other. The dark blue bear belonged to me. It almost matched the shade of his jacket.
I hugged it to my chest as we ambled away.
“I’m sorry you got stuck with me,” he murmured. “Do you like roller coasters?” His voice was soft, but deep.
“I love roller coasters. And I’m sorry you got stuck with me.” I tried to sound lighthearted. “The coaster here is pretty rough. Lana and I rode it first thing. Have you ridden it yet?”
He shook his head. “We just got here. You wanna ride it again?”
“Sure, but I warn you, it really slings you around, even buckled in.”
He stopped short. “Look at that line.”
I looked. The line for The Whip had grown all the way around the corner and out of sight. “Wow. I’m glad I rode it already.”
Jimmy laughed. “How about the Tunnel of Death instead?”
“Sure. I wanted to go earlier, but Lana is terrified of things like that.”
He grabbed my hand. “C’mon.”
All at once the clanky music sounded clearer, and the sparkling neon lights shone even brighter.
We dashed across the midway, kicking up sawdust as we ran. I clutched my blue bear in one hand and Jimmy’s work-hardened fingers in the other. The feel of his skin conjured up pictures of roping and riding and branding, things I associated with a real ranch. Overhead, the stars had begun to pop out, but they were no match for the lights of the rides and booths.
We climbed in the sleigh-shaped car and clipped on our lap belts. In moments, the six-car train started up with a jerk. Once we went through the black fabric opening to the “tunnel,” the terror began. Spiders fell into our laps from a multitude of webs—only to be jerked back up again almost immediately—ghouls popped out of walls, shrieking witches flew past on glowing brooms, and when the train ground to a halt halfway through the tunnel, a chainsaw-wielding Michael Myers-lookalike burst out of the pitch black shadows and stood spotlighted in a shaft of white light.
The sound of the chainsaw made me grab my ears and hide my face on Jimmy’s shoulder. He wrapped his arms around me and I closed my eyes and didn’t open them until I felt the train begin to move once more.
The chainsaw man backed up into the shadows and we drew shaky breaths as the sound of his weapon faded to a soft growl. We were almost to the exit—I could see the glow of the outside lights around the edge of the heavy fabric curtain—when a bloody zombie shambled directly in front of us. Then the chainsaw guy revved up his weapon again and came at us from behind. Over the loud speaker a deep voice said “Do Not Get Out of The Car, No Matter What Happens, Remain Inside the Car!” Then the voice yelled, “Sir! Madam! What are you doing? Get back in the— No! Don’t do that—”
We all turned around to see who was getting off, and that’s when the little train’s metal wheels began to shriek as if we were being pulled along the track against our will.
The voice on the speaker continued to urge the phantom couple to get back inside the car so the train could finish the circuit. In the confusion, the zombie reached us and stumbled past just as the chainsaw guy caught up from behind. The two figures met and began to scuffle.
As the battle raged, our little train chugged forward and we all finished the ride craning our necks to see who would win. Just before the black curtains closed behind us, the zombie appeared to lose an arm that flew off into the darkness. It was the best carnival spook house I’d ever experienced.
We left the ride screaming with laughter. Jimmy kept his arm around my shoulders as we climbed down the few steps to the ground. My knees trembled and I could only imagine the color in my cheeks.
“That was amazing,” I said.
“Wanna go again?”
“No way!” I laughed self-consciously. “I really thought someone was getting off the train. I wonder what would happen if they did?”
Jimmy leaned his face into my hair and whispered into my ear. “Let’s do it again and find out.”
“Noooo,” I squealed. “I’m not going and you can’t make me.” I took off toward the Funnel Cake booth with my brown hair streaming out behind me like a flag.
“You can run, but you can’t hide,” Jimmy called, shambling after me like a zombie.
I felt like a twelve-year-old kid again. Like I could be my silliest self and it would be all right. I couldn’t remember ever enjoying the fair this much.
We ate our funnel cake—dusted with plenty of powdered sugar—standing at a wooden rail surrounding a pair of faux cowboys about to throw-down in a mock shootout at the O.K. Corral.
Jimmy looked at me. “Which one’s Doc and which one’s Wyatt?”
I shrugged. “Neither?”
He laughed and the sound was so reassuring I found myself pulling it out of my memory time and time again over the next few months. Every time I needed a dose of courage or comfort.
About the Author:
Ann writes about women mostly. Women who start out as uncertain victims and wind up as self-saving heroines. Along the way there are often Prince Charmings, sometimes they help the women, other times they simply have to get out of the way. Strong women aren’t always born that way. Often, it’s a learning curve. Sometimes they are forged in fire.
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