Twelve Graves of Christmas – A Jane Ladling Mystery Read Online Gena Showalter

Categories Genre: Novella, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
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Had Sora seen Jane’s message? Any chance she’d show up?

A knock sounded at her door. Eek! The guests were arriving. She twisted to peer out the kitchen window and spotted Beau’s old truck.

“I’ll get the door,” Conrad called.

A sleek red sports car parked beside the beater. As Wyatt emerged and jogged to the passenger side of the vehicle, excitement bloomed.

“No,” she called back. “You get comfortable, and I’ll get the door.” Jane quickly dried her hands on a dishtowel and hurried to the living room. She must, must, must meet the woman Conrad’s fun, lively foster brother was dating.

As she waited in the open entrance for the pair to stride closer, she hugged Beau hello. How amazing he looked in his dress shirt and slacks. Conrad sat on the couch with Cheddar on his lap and Rolex perched just behind his shoulder, glaring. His love language.

Her jaw nearly dropped when the handsome Wyatt escorted a ginger bombshell inside. He shut the door behind her. The newcomer wore a curve-hugging dress of fiery scarlet with a deep V. Mile high stilettos revealed toes painted jet black. Vibrant red lipstick completed the look.

Conrad blinked at her, as if in awe. The only sound came from Beau as he gulped.

The beauty glanced at the former agent before concentrating on Jane. “Hi, I’m Lorelei,” she said, extending her hand. “Thank you for inviting me to your home. I planned to bring my famous ambrosia salad, but Wyatt said you’d be insulted if I did.”

“Ambrosia salad would have been a wonderful addition to the menu,” Jane told her, shaking her head at Wyatt. “In fact, I think I have the ingredients. Why don’t you whip up a batch? We can get to know each other while I finish my current dish and start the next.” And the next and the next. She had tons of questions for the woman.

Cheddar hopped down and trotted to each guest, seeking pets.

“Wyatt,” Conrad grated before Lorelei had a chance to respond. He stood and glared at his foster brother. “A word in private, please.”

“Nah, I’m good,” the other man replied with a shrug.

Um. What did Conrad wish to discuss? Annoyance and exasperation rolled from him in waves. “This is Beau,” she said, “my best friend.” Beau and Wyatt shook hands. “I’m assuming you’ve already met Conrad?” she asked Lorelei.

“Oh, yes.” The redhead cast the soon-to-be sheriff another glance, this one lingering. Her voice dropped an octave. “We used to date.” Her heels clicked on the hardwood floor as she slinked over to place a kiss on his cheek. “Didn’t we, Connie?”

Connie? Startled, Jane glanced at her ex-boyfriend. This was the kind of woman he used to date? Flame haired femme fatales?

“We went on two dates,” he said, the grating worse. Lots worse. “Hardly dating.”

Wyatt stuffed his hand in his pockets, rocked back on his heels and whistled.

A snicker burst from Beau. “This is going to be my favorite holiday ever. I can already tell.”

Another knock sounded at the door, and Jane rushed to open it. Thank goodness. A distraction.

“I decided to take you up on your offer.” Sora Kahtri stood on the porch, elegant in a white top and matching pants. Dark skin radiant, chestnut eyes framed by long, curling lashes, and black hair hanging to her waist, curling at the ends, she absolutely stunned. “Is that okay?” she asked.

“Of course.” Jane threw her arms around her, giving her guest a welcoming hug. “I’m so glad you came. Please, come in.”

Beau began to choke. “What’s she doing here?”

“Whatever she wants,” Sora snapped at him as she entered behind Jane.

Okay, so the two hadn’t really gotten along. But they were definitely intrigued with each other. Even now, they couldn’t inched closer.

It was Conrad’s turn to snicker. “I agree,” he said, patting the vet on the shoulder. “Best holiday ever.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, everyone,” Wyatt announced, spreading his arms, and Jane would swear Rolex grinned from his perch on the couch.

The wind-up timer announced the rising rolls were ready to be kneaded. “If you’ll excuse me.” Jane rushed back to the kitchen, thankful to escape.

She spent the rest of the morning and afternoon in the kitchen, baking, baking, baking. Lorelei never showed to mix her salad, but others snuck in and out of the kitchen to snag a taste of this or that. Between those visits, muted arguments filtered her way, and she cringed.

Finally, as she slathered melted butter over the freshly bake rolls, she called, “Who’s hungry?”

An unenthusiastic chorus rang out. Seconds later, the group stalked into the kitchen, their expressions strained. Cheddar did not follow. Avoiding the fuddy duddies? Smart dog. Rolex, who’d worked his way to the top of the refrigerator, hissed and batted at anyone who passed by. Unfortunately, not even his adorable personality could save the mood.

Jane clapped her hands, a schoolteacher taking charge of her students. “Line up, everyone, fill a plate, and settle in at the dining table,” she instructed. Maybe full bellies would do the trick.


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