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Sweet Fatalities by Sherrie Lea Morgan

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  • The Heroes of Coweta County, Book 2

    The kitchen has always been Hannah’s happy place, but as she prepares to compete for prize money any aspiring baker would drool over, she notices something weird. Weird even for a culinary student who still talks to the ghost of her dead roommate.
     
    As competitors are eliminated through illness and mysterious deaths, the contestant list is starting to look like a hit list—and she’s on it. It figures the only cop she can trust is the one who investigated her roommate’s death. An ill-mannered detective with an overly suspicious mind.
     
    Neil Garrett’s is haunted by a meddlesome ghost that inhabits his new/old fixer-upper, and by the memory Hannah’s hot curves, fiery curls, and equally fiery temper. No one knows better than he what it costs her to ask for his help, and this time he won’t let her down. She's the only woman he's ever wanted for his own...she could also be the next target of a madman with a taste for murder.

    Rating: Spicy
    Page Count: 258
    Word Count: 63410
    978-1-5092-2138-7 Paperback
    978-1-5092-2139-4 Digital

    Excerpt

    Chapter One

     

    Death by nutmeg?

    Hannah gasped, and nine faces turned in her direction causing her face to infuse with heat. She sputtered, “I’m…I’m so sorry.”

    Heart pounding, she rushed out of the little room and away from her friend Anita and Anita’s family. She dodged around monitors, linen hampers, and nurses, blocking out the odors of alcohol sterility assaulting her nose. Why hadn’t that nurse warned her? Why had they let her in? Tears pooled, blurring her vision before dripping in rivulets down her cheeks while she pushed forward. Her throat burned as her gaze shifted right, then left, and around the corners she passed, scanning for the double doors somewhere among the maze of the intensive care unit that would allow her to escape.

    A bright red button on the wall suddenly appeared to her right. She ran and slapped her palm on the button. She tapped her foot in a rapid tattoo, then stopped when the doors whispered slowly open. Hannah shoved them open farther, squeezing through the opening. Her chef shoes squeaked on the linoleum flooring as she searched for a room, any room to hide in. A trickle of sweat trailed down her back. A small sign indicating a waiting room pointed its arrow to the left. She turned and sank into the first available seat. Lowering her head into her hands, she let the tears flow even harder.

    Nutmeg? Did Anita have other allergies that severe? She was a baker, for heaven’s sake. Hello, pastry chefs used nutmeg on a regular basis. She ran her palms down her face and wiped away the wetness. Her eyes stung from residual tears, and her chest ached from stifling her cries.

    An elderly woman’s urgent whispers broke through the questions spinning in her mind. Sitting huddled together to Hannah’s left, an older man and woman clutched hands tightly—while a nurse knelt before them. All three spoke in hushed tones, words filled with both hope and fear echoed in the nearly empty room with its dim lights. The nurse explained to the couple that their son’s car accident had been serious, and the doctor would be with them to explain their child’s injuries. The couple bowed their heads in unison and said soft prayers.

    Hannah remained still. Their words reverberated in her head, as the acidic burn of bile threatened her throat. Was anyone really listening? Memories of her experience with her own grandmother flooded in. When stuck sitting in this type of room, hope had been her lifeline to keep the fear and darkness from smothering her soul. In the end, it hadn’t worked.

    She shifted away from the couple and dropped her gaze to stare at the floor. How many people had sat here before trying to make sense out of death? She struggled to breathe as the walls started to close in around her. Since she’d never met Anita’s parents before tonight, it didn’t make sense to stay. With the other family members arriving, she would be one more in the crowd of bodies trying desperately to comfort those they loved, while at the same time fighting the fear of being too close to death.

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Sweet Fatalities

Sweet Fatalities

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