Acknowledgments

Thanks as always go to my readers, my ARC team, editors and cover artist. This is truly a team effort to pull a book out and make it happen on a regular basis.

I also want to thank my author friends who have been with me on this journey. Denise Grove Swank, KF Breene, Christine Gael, Jana DeLeon, Robyn Peterman, Darynda Jones, Deanna Chase, Mandy M Roth, Eve Langlais, Michelle M Pillow, Elizabeth Hunter and Kristen Painter. Some of you I knew before this mind bending genre experiment, some I met along the way. All of you rock, I am proud to stand shoulder to shoulder with you and show the world that women over forty still have a lot to offer, in every sense of the words. Much love to you all!

1

The saying goes that doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results was the definition of insanity. I wasn’t sure that was entirely true. I suspected that doing something completely out of the norm, something no sane person would ever consider doing, fell a bit closer to the mark.

I stood, résumé in hand, in front of a massive wrought iron gate that led into a decommissioned graveyard that was apparently so old, no one cared there were bodies in it. Of course, maybe that wasn’t so unusual given there were bodies buried under every part of Savannah. Having grown up here, though, I had been surprised to see a graveyard I’d not known about.

A quick glance at the paper in my hand, my name in bold at the top—Breena O’Rylee—my grandmother’s maiden name, thank you very much. The last thing I wanted right then was to be connected to Himself—also known as my a-hole of an ex-husband, may he rot in pieces after suffering through a case of testicular shrinkage that would take his voice into soprano octaves. See how he liked that when arguing a case in court.

“Hello?” I tapped the tip of my shoe on the gates, rattling them soundly. “Is this 696 Old Hollows Road?” I grimaced as my voice drifted over the early night air. Really, it was kind of a dumb question seeing as the address was hung clearly on the left gate. I was at the right place, but where were the interviewers?

Gawd almighty, this was . . . insane. Insane. I checked my watch. Eammon, the friend of a friend who’d invited me for the group interview, had said to be here at 6:00 p.m.

It was 6:15, and I’d shown up five minutes early. No other interviewees that I’d seen. So, either I’d gotten my time wrong, or I was the only one applying for the job. If I was the only one, maybe that would guarantee me the job. Not a bad thing if it paid as well as Eammon had hinted.