#SixSunday — A little suspense from The P.U.R.E.

Welcome to “Six Sentence Sunday”. Thank you for visiting and especially for any comments you might feel inclined to offer.

This six comes from my forthcoming debut novel, The P.U.R.E. (releasing April 16, 2012). In this scene, our heroine, Gayle, is in her bedroom changing after returning from a traumatic rendezvous.

I opened my dresser drawer and a movement in the mirror caught my attention. Raising my eyes, I detected a shift in my closet door. I froze.

My mind flipped through a series of possibilities, some realistic, others entirely too fantastic thanks to an obsession with horror novels. The cockroaches grew pretty large in Texas, but I’d never seen any muscular enough to move a door, certainly not in my apartment.

Please, anything but a human…or zombie.

Zombie Influx

Uh-oh. Who or what might be in Gayle’s closet or is her imagination running wild?

Come back tomorrow too.  I’ll be unveiling my book trailer that I’m very, very proud of, especially since I did about 99% of it myself and learned a new software program in the process! I’ll be just like Michael Scott from The Office–“I made it on my Mac.”  LOL

Be sure to check out the host site, Six Sentence Sunday, for links to more tantalizing snippets from some very talented writers.

Excerpt from The P.U.R.E.

The P.U.R.E ARCs (advance reader copies) are finally here and with it my last chance to catch boo-boos.  It’s also my chance to give YOU a tiny glimpse of the first 500 words of the novel.  I hope it grabs you enough to want to keep reading.  Beginnings are always so tough and I’d be lying if I told you it was my strong suit.  But with my editor’s wise assistance (and that of countless others from beta readers to critiquers at my writing sites), hopefully this gets a passing grade.  The best reason to read is the definition the acronym P.U.R.E. will be revealed.  So without further caveats or hemming and hawing…

The P.U.R.E.

I shouldn’t have listened, but my curiosity beat out the entire feline population of Dallas. Who was I to fight it? It hadn’t killed me yet.

If the voices hadn’t been raised and full of discord, I might have resisted temptation. Perhaps . . . but probably not if I were being honest.

“You can’t possibly sign off, Bob. We found too many blatant errors and even more questionable treatments,” a woman’s voice said. Marilyn. The voice of reason—my mentor if I could impress her enough to take me on.

“Duly noted, but you’re overruled. It’s a done deal,” Bob said.

I pulled away from the door and scanned my surroundings to double check that no one would catch me spying.

My heart pounded as I considered the implications of what I’d heard. Why would a partner, a leader in our accounting firm, do something so obviously wrong? Why would he put its reputation, his reputation, at risk?

“Aphrodite is showing missing cash, two luxury cars and a jet no one can seem to produce, to name a few things we’ve found. You can’t ignore this, Bob.”

I mouthed, ‘Don’t forget the overvalued inventories and past due payroll taxes,’ as if I might somehow prompt Marilyn through the door.

“What about the overvalued inventories?” Marilyn added.

Exactly! I checked my watch, needing to get our lunches. Another few minutes wouldn’t hurt.

“That’s not an Aphrodite issue,” Bob said. “Gayle and Jon royally botched the counts.”

What? No friggin’ way! Where’d he even get that idea from?

“We can’t hold Aphrodite’s audit hostage because of our own abysmal staff,” Bob said. “You should have replaced those two PUREs at the beginning of the project like I suggested.”

My heart sank to my feet. I waited for Marilyn to come to my defense.

“You said you had everything under control, Marilyn.” His tone took on a steely, accusatory edge. “The cost to redo the entire count is out of our budget. We’re just going to have to take the risk and sign off.”

I drew back as my stomach knotted. Abysmal? Bob thought my work was abysmal? Jon’s too? PUREs? Partners never called staff Previously Undetected Recruiting Errors unless they were one step away from the unemployment office. I did a good job, and so did Jon. Marilyn had even complimented our work.

How could Bob be so glib in front of our client?

Private conversation or not, I needed to hear more. My hoop earring clanked against the door as I returned my ear to its station.

I froze. Should have worn studs. Hoops were so much less professional. Of course, eavesdropping was too.

Listening for signs I’d betrayed my presence and hearing none, I pressed closer.

“. . . a lawsuit waiting to happen.” Marilyn said. “Your costs’ll look like loose change in comparison. You can’t possibly sign your name to those financial statements, Kenneth. Consider the implications to this company, to your reputation, your license.”

If Kenneth commented, he spoke so I couldn’t hear. “You could go to jail. We could all go to jail,” Marilyn said.

© Claire Gillian 2012