This week, I’m taking a huge detour from my romance-writing roots. And as the Monty Python movie offers, now for something completely different. This is the beginning of a mystery series I’m thinking about writing. I’d love to hear your comments. Should I go back to writing romance? Should I continue with this? Or should I give up writing altogether? For the record, the last option is not going to happen
They say family should come first, that blood is thicker than water. But when your blood flows because you tried to be nice, to do a favor for one of the family, it’s hard to remember that. Especially when the cause of that blood spilling doesn’t even appreciate it.
Family. The reason I’m lying here in a hospital bed, a chest tube sticking out of my side and all my bodily functions being monitored and recorded as if I’m a lab specimen. And the person responsible – albeit unintentionally and indirectly – is out dancing with my ex.
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