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Independant Publisher - Excellence in Publihsing book award
BLURB:
Teenager Kaitlyn Wolfe of First Nations descent barely surrvives a drugging inflicted by a racist. She overcomes stigma and painful odds becoming an Assistant Crown Attorney to face off the well-known defense attorney dubbed "The Barracuda".
EXCERPT:
Holly Nelson cowered in what her lover, Frank Jordan, called his panic place - a false space behind one wall of the bedroom of Frank's condo, approximately two feet deep.
"... check the place for his bitch ... waste her too ..." she heard through the plaster wall. Surrounded by countless kilos of marijuana, she clenched her teeth against a squeal that would surely give her away.
Two men, having hurdled the building's electronic entry code, busted in on Frank slumped into his recliner listening to dance club music on his surround sound stereo.
Caught unaware, Frank had been unable to reach the panic room, but during the scuffle outside the bedroom, Holly dove for cover and secured the door from the inside. Now she was in darkness, straining to listen.
The stereo was abruptly turned up. She swallowed hard, her body stiffened, and she dared not breathe. Suddenly, two sharp thuds broke through the music. Her body began to tremble.
She looked down at her shaking hands and willed them to still, but they wouldn't stop. Her body refused to obey her command.
Footsteps became clearer. The men had entered the bedroom.
She recognized the sound of sliding doors. The men were now rooting in the closet. The clink of clothes hangers and the rustle of clothing being chucked about confirmed her assumption.
Earlier, a business associate of Frank's, a man he addressed as Marty, had shown up unannounced for a none-too-friendly conversation about how Frank's life-style was drawing attention to ‘the operation'.
Frank had been rattled by the drop in and when Marty left, he blurted out for her to get ready, defying the warning. They would go out on the town.
She had been getting ready, and not happily at that when the goons had entered the condo.
Frank had built the panic place himself and hidden the entrance behind a pivoting chest of drawers. A chest of drawers now a hair's breath away from the men seeking Holly out.
A phone rang. Holly startled and slipped to the floor then gasped quietly. She froze. The phone in the bedroom rang again. Holly stopped breathing. A frightening pause followed.
"You want me to pick that up, Wally? See if it's her?"
"Are you insane?"
"Sorry, Wally, I wasn't thinking." A silence filled the bedroom.
Had they spotted the panic room door? She went stiff as a board.
"She's not here, Wally."
She breathed a silent sigh of relief.
"Shit! Well, she'll turn up somewhere. And when she does .... Let's go."
Yes. Yes. Holly willed them out - out of the apart-ment.
The sound of their footsteps waned and a door shut, barely audible.
Just in case their leaving was a ruse to bring her out of her hiding place, Holly watched the glowing minute hand on her Rolex indicating time passing. She remained trapped in her refuge for ten, long additional minutes.
What would she find when she came out, Frank's lifeless body? She hoped they hadn't blown his brains out. What a mess that would be to clean up.
What was she thinking? She couldn't stay in the apartment with a dead man!
She'd gather a spare change of clothes then flee and never return to this dump.
What if they had someone watching the building entrance? She gave herself a mental shake.
One thing she knew. She couldn't stay here.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Jacqui Morrison started writing poems and short stories as a child where she also enjoyed public speaking in elementary school and at university. In High School, a great teacher, Lenore Hawley, encouraged her writing and inspired her to never stop. Jacqui has a bachelor's degree from Ryerson Polytechnical University and currently takes courses at both the University of Toronto and Laurentian University.
Her career is a complicated web and includes: owning an ice cream parlour and fine food shop, teaching creative writing, teaching computer applications, social service work, tourism marketing and health promotion.
She lives in northern Ontario, Canada with her daughter Alison, (born in 1995), her husband Wayne, a golden retriever named Willow and four feisty cats. At age seventeen, Jacqui developed Rheumatoid Arthritis and has never let the arthritis slow her down. Jacqui is an extremely tenacious person.
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