Go get it! Book One in the new Marilyn Club Series, Murder
For By Dummies, is
available right this very moment for early download!!!
Place your pre-order at the Totally Bound website and download your copy TODAY. If you have already placed your pre-order, your copy is available NOW!
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So, go…don’t delay…hurry…order your copy of Murder
For By Dummies now and get the download today--almost a month before everyone else
on the general release date of August 15, 2017.
And just to whet your whistle, here is a new excerpt…ENJOY!
By Kayce Lassiter
The office door swung open and slammed against the wall. I jumped an inch off the chair and almost toppled backward, chair and all. With both my feet straight out in front of me, and arms wind-milling, I struggled to save myself. As I barely avoided a very humiliating upset by regaining my balance, I stared hard at my boss, waiting for an explanation.
“Could you come to my office? I need to talk to you.” He wouldn’t make eye contact.
Not a good sign.
I took a deep, measured breath and mentally counted to ten as he hurried from my office. Annoyed, I dragged my poor, tired body across the hall and into his office, and slumped into the first chair I came to.
“Is this going to take long?” I was too frayed to hide my annoyance.
He raised his brows. “It might. Are you in a hurry?”
“Sort of. It’s Friday afternoon and I’ve got almost eighty hours in this week. I’m exhausted and there’s a family emergency brewing. I just want to go home and curl up on the couch with a glass of wine and pray for good news. Can it wait?”
George stared at some loose papers on his desk, still not making eye contact—which wasn’t unusual. He was a short, bald man with absolutely no people skills and beady little eyes that were always sneaking peeks like he expected to catch someone doing something wrong.
“Uh, no. This can’t wait, and I’m afraid you’re not going home early. We’re downsizing and you’re being RIF’d.”
The clock on the wall slowly ticked away the seconds as the silence hung thick in the air between us. After a few moments, the wheels began to slowly turn in my mind.
“RIF’d? What do you mean, RIF’d?”
“A Reduction In Force—job cuts.”
I stared at him as my heart began to pound. “I know what it means. Why me?”
“Like I said, the company is downsizing. Your department is being outsourced. Your project is cancelled. We’re sending the work offshore.” Before I could respond, he hurried on. “Don’t worry. You’ll be compensated. We’ll give you a severance package and help you update your resume.”
“Severance package? Help me update my resume?” My voice pitched higher as I slid closer to the edge. “Do you know what I’m dealing with right now?”
Sarcasm coated his words. “I’m sorry if this comes at a bad time.” He rolled his eyes and sighed. It’s nothing personal, just a cost saving measure.”
Wow. That was heartfelt.
My stomach knotted tighter as I felt my foot slip over the mental edge. “Nothing personal? Are you kidding me? This is my freaking job. It’s pretty damn personal to me. I’ve given this company two hundred percent for the last four years and this is the thanks I get?”
RIFs happened and they weren’t always selective, but some part of me always believed if I worked hard and did a good job, I’d be rewarded. I never expected to give so much of myself to my career, only to get kicked in the teeth.
Unreasonable rage bubbled up from somewhere deep inside and I began to shout. “You think a few lousy months’ pay and some re-training will compensate for having this prestigious career of facilitating the movement of garbage ripped out from under me?”
On a roll now, my propensity for sarcasm kicked into high gear as I leaned forward in my seat.
“You think that’ll even begin to compensate me for being thrown out of my corner cubicle and being barred from the county dump? For the humiliation of being supervised as I pack my personal belongings into the one box I’m allowed to carry out? For the loss of my insurance and the huge pension I was counting on when I’m old and shriveled? You think you can come up with enough compensation for all that?”
He stammered, apparently at a loss for the right words, “Actually, it’s only two weeks’ pay, and no training. But there are outplacement services.”
“Two weeks’ pay? That’s it?” Hanging off the edge of sanity by my fingernails, I surged to my feet and stormed to the door. I jerked it open, stepped through, and turned to glare at him. “Outplacement services?”
Heads popped up all over the groundhog farm as everyone struggled to see and hear everything.
“You’ve got to be kidding. You’re offering me outplacement services? After four years of weekends, late nights, working overtime until I couldn’t see straight, you tell me outplacement services and two weeks’ severance is all I get? Are you freaking nuts? Well, you can kiss my outplacement services!”