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Currently 8,259 words behind the Camp NaNoWriMo target, but I won't let that put me down (not today anyway). I have finished the first draft of POISONED BLUE. It's only 18:30, but I'm going to call it a day. Tomorrow I will start editing and expanding.
I'd like to thank all of you who have been following me along the way this month, retweeting my tweets and favouriting (is that a word?) them. Below is the prologue for POISONED BLUE, my murder mystery novel. Don't worry if you don't like blood and gore, this book is blood and gore free - I'm a complete wimp, even Harry Potter scares me -but it is full of suspense (or at least that's what people are telling me).
Enjoy! Please leave your comments below.
She flinched the minute she heard the song erupting from her mobile phone on the coffee table beside her. Although she was expecting the call the noise still made her nervous.
“Greg,” she answered.
It was no hidden fact that they didn’t get on.
“Let’s get this over with quickly. On your doorstep in fifteen minutes.”
He’d hung up before she had chance to reply.
She dreaded his phone calls, they made her feel guilty. She knew what she was doing was wrong, but it had been so long that she didn’t know a way out of it anymore. There was no way out.
Sara hovered around the house, moving things from one place to another – convincing herself that she was tidying up although the house was already in tip-top condition – anything to keep herself busy.
Although the ringing had stopped, the song still remained in her ears. The ringtone dedicated to Greg was different from everyone else. She’d changed it so that without looking at the caller ID, she’d know who it was. Not that he was saved in her phone as ‘Greg’. She’d hidden his number under the name ‘Rubbish Chinese Takeaway’.
Sara shivered. Greg always called when he was fifteen minutes away. They were the longest fifteen minutes of her life.
She checked she had money in her purse although she’d already checked at least five times that day. A wad of twenty pound notes, fresh out of the cash machine the day before, filled the back section. Even without looking inside, she knew the money was there from the bulge it created. She was prepared, or as prepared as she ever could be.
The doorbell rang. Sara took in a large breath, letting it out as she reached the front door. The metal of the door handle was cold against her sweaty palm. Her heart beat quickened. She took in one more breath and let it go before opening the door.