Natalie Fisher committed suicide after an author stole her work and published it as her own.
Two years later, her best friend Terri is found dead in her hotel room.
Are the two deaths connected?
Laura Fitz and Detective Gibbons are on the case to trap a ruthless author trying to get away with murder!
Laura Fritz is back along with the characters I have come to love from this author's other books in the series. This time, Laura meets a couple of authors.Natalie, Silvie and Terri were close friends and struggling to be authors. When tow of the women die mysteriously, Laura gets involved and the adventure to solve a mystery begins. Karen Vaughan writes no-frills stories with amazing and believable characters. Grabbing a book by this author is like sitting down with an old friend and having a chat. Here novels are twisted mysteries with a cozy appeal and not to be missed. P.S. Winn
https://www.amazon.com/Dead-Writes-Laura-Gerry-Mystery-ebook/dp/B07CJNG5P4/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8 https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dead-to-writes-karen-vaughan/1128533370?ean=9781717244826 http://www.booksamillion.com/p/Dead-Writes/Karen-Vaughan/9781717244826?id=6960723244637 https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/dead-to-writes-3
“Why do you call her the Ghost?” Tom asked Sam, as they sat in the cab of the truck.
“She is white now and has been extraordinarily meek and mild-mannered since her second foal. You hardly remember she is there most of the time.” He replied.
There was a sly lazy air about Tom. A bit slovenly, his long hair hanging greasy, on his shoulders, with a few strands combed across his prematurely balding head. Sam could hardly bear the smell of him, a combination of greasy hair and a pungent smell of stale beer clinging to him. “Will you open the window a bit, Tom?” Sam asked. He wore his blue jeans in what humans commonly referred to as a plumber’s crack; I don’t see how he can walk properly, I will have to get the boss to discuss his clothes it won’t do working with horses.
The red truck backed up to the gate of Sadie’s paddock, “Tom would you please go open the gate for me?” Sam asked.
“I’ll take a look-see, Sadie; be right back,” Nellie said as she walked back out to her paddock. Poking her head back in Nellie said, “One of them is old Samuel, but the shorter man looks like a real greenhorn Sadie I never saw him before.” He is a little man, a bit sly looking, with a mean look in his eye and the smell of cruelty.” Both mares’ ears perked up to hear the two men outside the small barn.
“Tom here’s the rope, go get the Ghost. You can bring her out through the paddock. I’ll be waiting at the trailer for you. She will be a bit cranky, but education is what you are here for. Besides I am here to show, not do the work.”
“Sam, which one of them is the Ghost, and if she is cranky, what’s the best way to get the rope around her?” Tom asked cunningly.
“As I already said, she is the white one. How long have you been around horses Tom? Surely long enough to know what a freaking halter is. Just go up to her, talk soothingly, and put the lead rope on the ring. It is the ring on the chin strap, at the base of the halter.” Sam shook his head in disgust. What the hell did the boss think when he sent this useless piece of shit to him for training? I bet this jerk can’t even tell the difference between a forelock and a frog. Maybe the guy was just lazy, though he might be like some people who acted stupid so they can get out of doing chores. Sam thought.
“I hear Nurse Mares have become a big business?” Tom said, to delay going into the barn. His voice full of bravado, but the mares could smell his nerves even with the barn doors closed. Sadie, could hear it in his voice. It worried her.
Throughout history, people have enslaved others, regardless of their race or religion. They fought to own more, considered the land, water, animals, and yes at many times women and children to be the property of man. There have been exceptions to this rule. The societies that were a monarchy, not patriarchy, might have felt they owned men, who are to know I don’t. The Native American’s thought highly of their women, but also considered them tradeable as were animals. They didn’t consider the earth itself ownable.
This country was settled on a white supremacist attitude, and that bothers me a lot. It bothers me that even today, so many have these same issues of supremacy and ownership.
I do not own my animals or my land in this way of thinking. I am the steward of this piece of land. I am the caregiver and companion of my animals. I adopted them; they are incapable of caring for themselves as they were not raised to know how and therefore I owe them care. We give and exchange companionship. I would, however, fight to protect my home, animals, the land we live on to continue to protect it and them.
I do not understand the attitude that many have of superiority and ownership of anything that is living, be it animal, plant, air, water or anything else. If this makes me odd, so be it.
WHEN I WAS NOT MYSELF
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Whether I am reading, or writing I am taken out of myself and will return more enlightened. From the magic of the places I have been, the people I have met, and the story that captured me for a while.