Trouble Follows
an excerpt

I mustered up a smile as I opened the door. I prayed I looked professional enough for an interview. But what is a reporter in small-town Texas supposed to look like?

“Hi. I’m here to see Reuben Randolph.” I held out my hand to shake the hand of the receptionist. The receptionist? Why on earth would I shake the hand of a receptionist? I looked like a loser already.

The cute girl at the front desk was frighteningly perky. She was apparently all of twelve years old. Except of course for the boobs. The Tetons that my chest had always dreamed of becoming. And, oh, my, God, her voice. Her voice was sickeningly sweet, like she was talking to a puppy.

“Suuuuuure. May I tell him your name?” That smile. It had my forced smile beat all to hell. It actually looked real. So that’s what a natural smile looked like. All those years in California had ruined me to genuine emotion. I looked at the name plate on her desk. Amber Cantrell. Amber. That proved it. She was only 12. But so composed.

“My name is Jessica Monroe. I … I.” I hadn’t rehearsed what I was going to say when I introduced myself. I hadn’t called ahead for an appointment. I just took a chance the publisher would see me. After all, a good reporter doesn’t announce her arrival. She has to catch people by surprise, while they’re off their guard. So I was trying to impress Mr. Randolph while disobeying the rules of polite society. In Texas. All of this flashed through my mind as little Amber smiled sweetly at me, awaiting my answer patiently, as if she really genuinely cared who I was.