Time's Running Out to Get Your Pre-order Bonus

Pre-ordering The Fragrance of Violets ends May 16. By pre-ordering you can receive the bonus short story, a prequel of sorts to my third novel.

Here’s a snippet from “Granny Parsons’ Independence Day.” Enjoy.

Excerpt

When asked, Granny Parsons was often hard pressed to remember her first name wasn’t Granny. She’d been Granny for forty years, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

In her opinion, the name Ardith was of no consequence except for legal documents.

She cast a stink eye at the forms lying on the table, the name Ardith shouting at her from the top line.

Ignore it. Maybe it’ll go away.

“Who wants a name like Ardith anyway?” Granny mumbled aloud. No one was around to hear, so she could talk to herself all she wanted. Living alone had its good and bad sides.

Granny checked the clock on the microwave. Eleven a.m. Close enough to lunchtime. She slathered peanut butter on bread.

“Nothing wrong with PB&J sandwiches. They wanted me to eat healthier. Okay. So you got your natural peanut butter, whole grain bread, and low sugar jelly. They still complain.”

She arranged the triangles on the plate and added a peach she’d gotten from her backyard tree.

“Almost eighty. Still in my prime, right? But in a place like that, I’ll die real quick.”

Knock it off, woman.

She wanted to stay on this earth long enough to see great-grandchildren. With ten grandchildren, wouldn’t you think one would have children by now? Her son Ned’s oldest had been married ten years already. But his response to Granny? He was only forty, and there was plenty of time.

***

Chimes from the front door caught her mid-chew. Granny shuffled to the front door and spied her granddaughter, Teagan, on the other side of the peep hole. She unlocked the door and threw it open.

“Teagan. I’m so happy to see you, but what brings you here?” Granny drew her into a bearhug. They no longer matched shoulder to shoulder when they hugged. Either Teagan was getting taller, doubtful at twenty, or Granny was shrinking.

“Why was the door locked? You never lock your doors. You okay?”