By Joanna Campbell Slan
Author's Note: Over the next 14 weeks, I'll be re-launching all the books in the Kiki Lowenstein Mystery Series. For two days each week (Wednesday and Thursday), one at a time in order, each of the books will be only 99 cents.
This week on Aug. 16 & 17, Wednesday and Thursday, you can buy
Love, Die, Neighbor: The Prequel to the Kiki Lowenstein Mystery Series for only 99 cents by going here:
http://bit.ly/LDNprequel.
The book is also available in paper from CreateSpace. You can use this code --
B3J4HBYX -- to get $5 off the print version when you buy it here:
https://www.createspace.com/6900602.
I hope you'll take advance of the opportunity to own all the books in my series at a remarkably discounted price. In fact, I hope you'll buy a copy for a friend, or at least share this information.
And to get you started, here's an excerpt from Love, Die, Neighbor.
EXCERPT
from
Love, Die, Neighbor:
The Prequel in the Kiki Lowenstein Mystery Series
PROLOGUE
My life in crime began with a good deed.
You see, I dialed 911 after a neighbor took a
tumble off his racing bike. Under the right circumstances, contacting the
emergency dispatcher would have been a normal response to Sven Nordstrom’s cry
for help.
But Sven’s accident didn’t happen under normal
circumstances. It happened after a series of nasty interactions between our
family, the Lowensteins, and his, the Nordstroms. There was definitely bad
blood between us.
When Sven took that fatal fall, my behavior as a
concerned citizen linked me to his death in ways I couldn’t begin to imagine.
Rather than prove my good intentions, my call to the authorities looked
suspicious. The ugly finger of blame pointed my way.
That’s how I, Kiki Lowenstein, became involved in
a murder investigation.
My husband, George, and I took possession of our
new house the minute it was habitable, on the Friday before Labor Day weekend.
We literally walked in as the construction crew walked out. We were that eager
to get settled. The technical term for this is “beneficial occupancy,” but in
retrospect, it should have been called a “big mistake.”
We should have waited another week and allowed a
cleaning crew to thoroughly vacuum, dust, and scrub all the surfaces. But after
six months in a cramped extended-stay hotel, the three of us were desperate to
get out of each other’s way. This house would actually allow us to go for weeks
without bumping into each other. But first, we’d need to get settled in.
The interior of the four-thousand-square-foot
building looked like the aftermath of a natural disaster. Sawdust thickened
every surface. Loose nails and screws had been scattered everywhere. Drywall
dust covered all the woodwork. Dirty footprints marred the tile floors. The
wooden floors looked dull, thanks to a film of ground-in dirt. Stray pieces of
lumber rested precariously against the banisters and walls.
In the midst of all that mess sat enough boxes to
fill an entire moving van. All our worldly belongings had been packed in
cardboard containers of all sizes. The stacked boxes towered over my head, in
many cases giving me a surreal sense of existence. In the dim light, I could
imagine visiting Stonehenge, where the stone monuments dotted England’s
landscape.
“First on my list is setting up Anya’s playpen,”
I told my husband. “Otherwise, I don’t know how I’ll keep her from hurting
herself. Especially since she’s walking now. Once that’s done, I can dig in and
try to sort out this mess.”
Anya had begun “cruising” at a year old, hanging
onto furniture as a way of scooting around a room. Because we’d always lived in
cramped quarters, she could toddle from one stationary piece to the next with
ease. This new house would offer more of a challenge, thanks to the spacious
floor plan. I had a hunch that by the time next summer rolled around with her
second birthday, my daughter would be as fast on two feet as an Olympic runner,
and every bit as determined. Already she fought me when I tried to put her in
her stroller.
“Right,” my husband George said. “Once we get the
playpen and the high chair, you can get to work doing your job, and I’ll get
back to mine.”
My job. It would feel good to be productive.
George and I had met at my first (and last) frat
party at college, where I learned that drinking Purple Passion Punch is the
first step on the path to losing your virginity and getting pregnant in one
fell swoop. When George found out I was expecting, he immediately offered to
marry me. Faced with a lot of bleak choices, I took him up on his offer. Once
we’d tied the knot, there was never any question of living anywhere but here — St.
Louis ─ George’s hometown.
At the ripe old age of twenty, I’d gone from
college sophomore to newlywed, from living in a dorm to a small apartment, here
in “the Lou.” The Lowensteins had deep roots here. Their connections allowed
George to go into business with an old friend from high school. Together, the
men opened a real estate development company.
That partnership allowed us to build this honking
big house, a regular McMansion at four thousand square feet on a big lot in
Ladue, the swankiest town in the metro-St. Louis area. George acted as our
subcontractor, borrowing crews from other jobs. This saved us a lot of money,
but it also meant that building our house took longer than expected.
“Just think,” George had said. “This will be the
perfect place for Anya to grow up. She’ll have everything her heart desires.”
I had agreed. Our child had definitely been born
into a life of privilege.
“Okay!” George rubbed his hands together. “While
I’m at work, bringing home the bacon, your job is to get this place cleaned up
and make new friends in the neighborhood.”
~To Be Continued~
REMEMBER...the sale prices are good for two days only! Aug. 16 & 17, Wednesday and Thursday. Buy your digital copy here:
http://bit.ly/LDNprequel. Or your discounted paper copy by using this code --
B3J4HBYX -- to get $5 off the print version when you buy it here:
https://www.createspace.com/6900602.
NEXT WEEK: I'll share an excerpt from Paper, Scissors, Death: Book #1 in the Kiki Lowenstein Mystery Series. This book was an Agatha Award Finalist. It will be on sale for two days, and I'll share the links with you.
