Tag: Fiction

“Your mother should’ve let me take that bastard out years ago,” Monique growled. She emerged from the Louisiana bayou and prided herself on her ability to shoot an alligator’s eyeball.
Her ballsy stance seemed opposite of her job as a social worker. She explained once, “There is nothing that keeps folks in line like the potential for a bullet in the ass.”
Tori gripped the edge of the kitchen table before collapsing into Luke’s chair, reclaiming that space as though holding at ground zero could make him appear. She mentally reviewed previous days, wondering what, if anything, she had missed. Wondering how Richard knew about her children. “Where the hell did he come from?”
Monique sat in what was normally Christian’s seat at the table before crossing her legs at her ankle. “Sweetie, what you don’t know about your father will fill a football stadium.”
“But I haven’t seen him since that day. What more was there to know?” Tori demanded, eyeing her with guarded interest.
Monique exhaled and stared out the sheer curtain covering the kitchen window. The neighbor’s car rolled up to their rear garage. “Your father never bothered you again, but he reached out to your mother, demanding money or joint custody.”
Tori buried her head in her palms before sharing thoughts with Monique. “I begged Mom, begged her to leave. She had done it before. She could do it again.”
Antoine came over and massaged Tori’s shoulders. She covered his hand and gave them a squeeze of thanks.
Monique explained, “Richard is a bounty hunter. He has resources at his disposal and knowledge of legal and illegal methods of getting information that law enforcement only wish they had.”
Understanding rained on Tori illuminating the sacrifices her mother made to protect them … to protect her.
“He bled her dry for years, forcing her to pay for leaving him. Why did you think your mother didn’t have any money—no pension, no 401k, no nothing?”
“And because we didn’t run, she sacrificed every penny she had. She would’ve told me.” Tori and her mother shared a history, having survived the devil whose velvety voice caressed an ear with its deep timbre, but its words … its words branched through the quadrants of the brain before wrapping it in a vice grip of terror.
“No, she wouldn’t share something like that,” Monique contradicted. “She said he gave her you, so she didn’t regret that part of things. She did whatever was necessary to keep you safe. That meant writing checks.”
A piece of the puzzle clicked into place: revenge, money. “Oh my God,” Tori exclaimed. “Now, she can’t pay him anymore. Luke is Teddy’s son. Could he know that?”
Tori met Teddy Wieland III during her freshman year at Carlington University. They attended a fundraiser at the Engineering department, where she worked as an office assistant. In addition to being one fine specimen of a man, he had finesse, polish; and before she knew it, he’d finessed his way into her life and polished off her virginity.
Of course, the Disney fairytale she’d been spoon-fed since birth didn’t apply to this situation. When she excitedly told Teddy the news of her unexpected pregnancy, he smiled, embraced her, went out for the proverbial gallon of milk, and kept it moving.
Enter the wife, the one he neglected to inform that Tori existed; the wife, who wrote a check and told Tori she’d hand it over the minute their family physician confirmed the termination of her pregnancy.
Monique’s weathered hands, which still sported the diamond from husband number two, stroked Tori’s. “Sweetie, you have to listen to me. It’s not about the money. I don’t think it ever was. Your father mentally tortured Honey for years. Somehow, he always knew exactly what kind of cash she could get her hands on. Always with a laugh and a thinly veiled, ‘We could always go to court.’ Or when you were older, ‘Maybe I’ll drop by and see my baby girl.’ This is about control. He needs a puppet.”
Tori could feel her muscles tighten, even though Antoine continued to knead her shoulders and back. She leaned back, her head resting on Antoine’s stomach. “So now it’s me.”

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Sweet Whispers of the Devil

Victoria Hall’s son is missing—her worst nightmare realized. A nightmare made even more terrifying because, he’s in the hands of her father, a bounty hunter with an axe to grind. While Victoria’s mother, Honey, had changed their identities and moved from place to place to stay safe, she couldn’t prevent Victoria’s own kidnapping. Instead, she was forced to sacrifice everything she had to keep Richard at bay.

Now Honey’s dead. And daddy’s come calling. Again. With the help of an ex lover and his mother, it’s Victoria’s turn to make the decisions that could mend her family, save her son, or send Richard over the edge. One problem. The decisions could also force Victoria to change the game in a way that sends them all on a slide straight down into her father’s particular brand of hell.

Sweet Whispers of the Devil is a modern and suspenseful retelling of The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe. This novel explores the absentee father addressed from the perspective of sperm donors who probably shouldn’t have been compared to men who actually fill the father role. Half the time as I’m writing I don’t see “it” coming until halfway through. I know that if the ending is a surprise to me, then it will also be a surprise to the reader. When I’m telling my own characters, “You’re wrong for that,” then I know I’m creating something enticing.

About Cayenne by Janice Pernell
Michael Parks can either save Nia Tate, the woman he once loved, then deserted, from being killed by a career criminal, or he can save Corazon, a migrant toddler, from being sold away from her family.
Michael’s heart won’t let him save one and leave the other to a horrible ending. Unfortunately, the short window of time he has before Nia and Corazon each face their fate is not nearly enough time to save them both—unless he can convince Nia to overcome her broken heart enough to help him.
If Nia will trust him once more, even if only for this one night, her destiny and Corazon’s destiny will forever be changed. And Nia just might find in the process that love—and Michael—never fails.