The orchard smelled of ripe peaches and damp earth, but the air hung heavy with something bitter that August morning.
Beth Crane stood in the shade of a gnarled tree, her fingers clutching the telegram that had summoned her home. The ink had bled slightly from her sweat, but the words still clawed at her.
"Robert Crane. Deceased. Return immediately."
She had traveled all night from Charleston, only to arrive at a house half-filled with murmurs and sideways glances. The parlor smelled faintly of honeysuckle and grief.
Anya Tiosa. By day, she wrangles the minds of unsuspecting pre-teens, armed only with patience (mostly) and a healthy supply of caffeine. By night, she transforms into a secret agent of the mundane, infiltrating the lives of ordinary folks and documenting their hilarious, heartbreaking, and utterly bizarre quirks.
Ovi eBook Publishing 2025
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