My New Book Published! Merry Acres Widows Waltz

Hello Friends,

They say retirement kills. And it looks that way in MERRY ACRES, a planned community in South Florida for the over-fifty-five crowd. Husbands are dropping fast. Georgiana Duncan wonders who will next wear the black veil of widowhood. Should she be worried....or happy about such dire prospects? Perhaps, like Georgiana, other wives in Merry Acres have secrets, too. Skeletons rattling around personal closets that so mar the gloss of happily-ever-after that only murder can make amends.

Pique your interest?
Click here for a copy from Amazon in paperback or ebook.

Please visit my website for more books and info:http://www.nandarnold.com/

Here's an excerpt from Merry Acres Widows Waltz:
“I live in Merry Acres. You know about Mr. Mendez, of course. That business with the tire iron. Well, I was wondering about—”

I stopped talking because the man’s expression changed. He wasn’t kidding around or winking now, that was certain.

“About what?”

“You’ll think I’m crazy, but I was wondering if maybe the recent deaths that looked like natural causes or accidents, and ruled that way, really were…accidents or natural causes.”

“I have no idea which deaths you mean, but nothing on my desk, and I work homicides, pertains to that planned community, except Mendez.”

“I’ll just go.” I felt foolish. “Sorry to have bothered you.”

“Wait a minute. Finish your coffee and dessert.”

Since it was more a command than request, I took another tiny bite. I’d ruined the coffee by adding too much sugar.

“I have a question for you in return. I’m not sure Ms. St. James introduced us, if so, I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”

“Mrs. Daniel Duncan. Georgiana.” I actually gulped. This was ridiculous. I was almost a decade older than this guy, but he made me feel as if I were six years old. “What’s your question, officer?”

“You’ve forgotten my name, too. It’s Detective Morgan. Mike Morgan. And, for the record, I hate the name ‘Mikey'. Where’d you hear about a tire iron?” He continued eating.

I stammered. “I-I read it in the papers, didn’t I?”

He put his fork down. He looked hard at me. “No, you didn’t.”