Precarious is the second novella in a series I
wrote with three author friends (see below for info on the other stories). The
four of us used to meet weekly at a martini lounge in Edmond (sadly two of the
friends moved out of state, and now the martini lounge is closed) and we came
up with the idea to write separate stories about four friends. We set them in
the 20s, because the martini lounge had a retro feel and we thought it would be
fun to write about prohibition and the roaring 20s. We decided we’d continue to
write stories in the series in the following decades, but we chose not to write
stories set in the 30s because, with the depression, it didn’t seem like it
would be much fun. We skipped to post war 1947 and our heroines are the
offspring of our 20s heroines (other than in Perilous, Amanda McCabe’s story,
where the heroine is a niece of her 20s heroine). I enjoyed researching the
time period, but it was tricky to write a suspense set in that year, because I
was unsure of police procedures and how far forensics had come. Next, we’ll be
writing stories set in the 1950s. Anyone who knows me knows what a huge Elvis
fan I am, so I’m particularly excited to delve into his decade.
Myself and my
fellow MC4 friends hope you enjoy our stories!
Blurb - Precarious:
Boston ~ 1947
Iris Taggart should be ecstatic.
She’s engaged to one of the
wealthiest men in Boston, and he dotes on her. But, her marrying a rich man is
her mother’s dream, not hers. Iris longs to be a nurse and care for others, and
she’ll never have the career she wants if she marries a Boston Blue Blood. It
just isn’t done.
Dante Morello returned from WWII a war hero, and now he’s a Boston
detective working the South End Slayer case where a deranged killer is
butchering the poor and homeless. Dante’s investigation leads him to reconnect
with Iris—a girl he’s known most of his life—who is volunteering at the soup
kitchen where the murderer finds his victims. When Dante learns Iris is in the
killer’s sites, he’ll do whatever it takes to protect her, and not just because
she’s woken something in his heart he thought he’d never feel.
But neither of them is prepared for how precarious life can be. When
secrets are exposed, and a madman’s full intent is revealed, will their
love…and their lives…be destroyed?
Excerpt:
Dante stood and rolled down his shirt sleeves,
then slipped on his jacket, not bothering to straighten his tie. “Hello, Iris.
Is there something I can do for you?”
“Y-yes.” She held something tightly in her fists
and shoved it toward him. “I-I found this.”
He peered at the object—a woman’s scarf, which
looked as though it had been dragged through a tar pit—then lifted his brows.
“And?”
She drew in a deep breath, her breasts rising
with the action. He forced his gaze back to her face. “I found it at the
clinic.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, waiting.
He’d offer her a seat, but then she might stay all day, rambling on and on
about whatever popped into her pretty head. On one hand, that sounded like the
perfect way to spend his day. On the other, he had a killer to catch.
“The bastard left it there for me.” She didn’t
apologize, or even flinch, at her use of the curse word. She thrust the scarf
out again, and this time he took it. “Have you heard any news? Any new victims?
It belongs to Alma Vernon. She’s dead, isn’t she?”
The sentences fell on top of one another. Her eyes filled with tears and she
shook her head. “Mercy me. I don’t understand what’s happening.”
Dante tightened his fist around the scarf,
battling the rage rising inside him. “How well did you know Ms. Vernon?”
“I saw her frequently at the kitchen. Then, a
few days ago, she had a seizure, and I treated
her.”
“Morello!”
Shannon’s shout drew Dante’s attention away from
Iris, and for a moment, he was peeved at the interruption. Although she was
bearing potentially disturbing news, seeing her lovely face was a balm to his
soul.
“What is it?”
“We got a report of another victim.”
“Dammit to hell.” Dante shot a look at Iris but
didn’t apologize for his language. He was damned well frustrated and feeling
more incompetent each day. He said to Iris, “I’m sorry. I have to go. We’ll
talk later.”
She nodded. Her lovely blue eyes swam with
unshed tears, and her lips trembled. He wanted to stay, to hold her and comfort
her. It was obvious that the killer was either fixated on Iris, or working his
way through victims until he got to her. Either option opened a cold pit of
fear in his chest.
Check out the other Martini Club 4 ~ The 1940s
Novellas:
Pampered by Kathy L Wheeler https://www.amazon.com/Pampered-Martini-Club-4-1940s-ebook/dp/B07ZS2F7QK/
Perilous by Amanda McCabe https://www.amazon.com/Perilous-Martini-Club-4-1940s-ebook/dp/B081K789BV/
Priceless by Krysta Scott https://www.amazon.com/Priceless-Martini-Club-4-1940s-ebook/dp/B081M76DLK/
Alicia Dean began writing stories as a child. At age 10,
she wrote her first ever romance (featuring a hero who looked just like Elvis
Presley, and who shared the name of Elvis’ character in the movie, Tickle Me), and she still has the
tattered, pencil-written copy. Alicia is from Moore, Oklahoma and now lives in
Edmond. She has three grown children and a huge network of supportive friends
and family. She writes mostly contemporary suspense and paranormal, but has
also written in other genres, including a few vintage historicals.
Other than reading and writing, her passions are Elvis
Presley, MLB, NFL (she usually works in a mention of one or all three into her
stories) and watching (and rewatching) her favorite televisions shows like
Ozark, The Walking Dead, Dexter, Justified, Sons of Anarchy, Haven, Vampire
Diaries, and The Originals. Some of her favorite authors are Michael Connelly,
Dennis Lehane, Stephen King, Lee Child, Lisa Gardner, Ridley Pearson, Joseph
Finder, and Jonathan Kellerman…to name a few.
Find Alicia Here:
Email: Alicia@AliciaDean.com
Website: http://aliciadean.com/
Twitter: @Alicia_Dean_
Instagram:
AliciaDeanAuthor
Pinterest: https://pinterest.com/aliciamdean/
