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Kassandra’s last
single friend got married in the summer. But even if Kassandra
herself is the only unmarried girl in the pack, she isn’t singleanymore. Now that all her friends are married and all the wedding
planning is over, she has a chance to concentrate in her relationship
with Josh. Or so she thought until Marisol visits her with
a major, life-changing crisis. Helping her friends plan their wedding
was no problem─dealing with an unexpected pregnancy is a whole
other thing.
Kassandra is unable to decide the best way to
help Marisol, especially when her relationship with Josh reaches
a level of commitment she wasn’t expecting. Both girls will have to
remember the past in order to move their relationships
forward.
Destiny is full of surprises, and sometimes, the plans
you have aren’t laid out on the path set before
you.
Join Kassandra and Marisol as they
remember how they planned Sol’s wedding while they solve together
the difficulties in the present.

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The
Bridesmaid’s Checklist Book 3

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“There’s just no fucking way Andrik’s sleeping around on Nat. No way!” I’d heard Josh say the
same thing several different ways on our drive home. He not-so-gently gripped the steering wheel of his
Challenger.
“I know. I can’t believe it, either.” I was running out of replies, and I had no idea how to make him
feel better, seeing as since I struggled with it myself. Honestly, I was more worried about Natalie than
anything else. I’d only seen her that upset one other time, when she told us she couldn’t have children.
All her life, she’d wished for the perfect family and somehow, against all odds, became a mother with the
best husband in the world. The possibility of Andrik hurting her so deeply and taking away her dream
seemed surreal.
“I’m sure it’s some sort of misunderstanding.” Josh couldn’t let it go. “You have to make Nat talk
to him. He isn’t an asshole. He worships the ground she walks on. It makes no fucking sense.”
“I’ll check on her tomorrow,” I said. “Tell the rest of the girls about it. Natalie needs us.” I rubbed
my pant legs, my hands feeling cold and unpleasantly damp.
“But make sure she talks to her husband.” He gave me a determined stare before looking back at
the road. “Andrik isn’t that kind of man. I wouldn’t be surprised if Ed had a fling on the side, but not
Andrik. Never him.”
“What makes you so sure?” His words surprised me. Edward was his best friend, and Josh had
no problem picturing him cheating on his wife. Why couldn’t Andrik cheat on Nat? He’d cheated before;
in fact, he’d cheated on his previous wife with Nat, and that was how they fell in love. He’d been married
before he broke his wedding vows and ultimately left his family to begin a new one with my friend. I didn’t
like it, but I couldn’t discard the possibility that he’d do it again.
“There’s just something about the way he looks at her. It’s so obvious how much he loves her.
He’s still in love with her. I’m just sure.” Josh switched gears angrily, and I was afraid he’d wreck
the clutch and not even notice. He’d regret that later. “It’s like when you told me you thought Dzed
was cheating on Babah.”
“Shut the hell up!” What did my grandparents have to do with anything?
“Exactly! Not fucking believable.” He shook his index finger at the windshield before slamming his
hand bitterly back down on the wheel.“Why do you have to use my grandparents as an example?”
“I couldn’t use any of our parents.” He shrugged. Josh’s mother had raised him on her own, and
my parents had died when I was five. While our families weren’t the best illustration, I still held onto the
greatest memories of my parents as a couple. “I’m sorry, babe,” he added. “I didn’t mean to upset you.
I’m so fucking shocked.”
“I couldn’t tell.” I chuckled softly and rolled my eyes. “And I feel the same way. I just don’t
understand why you feel so strongly about this.”
“I really like them. They’ve been kind of an example to me. I look at them, and that’s the kind of
life I want with you.” Josh moved his hand from the wheel to take mine. “Of course, it’s nice that there’s
not such a big age gap between us.” He winked at me, then let out a long, slow breath. “I guess I also
feel really protective of Nat. She’s too sweet. I don’t want her to hurt, especially since I consider her our
personal cupid. We might not be together if it wasn’t for her.”
It surprised me that he felt the same way as I did about my friend’s support of our relationship.
Natalie had cheered us on from the very beginning. She’d always made little remarks about how Josh
was the perfect man for me, even when I was in total denial. She’d been his champion whenever we
were all in the same room. When I turned the other way, she kept pushing him toward me, and she never
gave up. Even if she asked us not to interfere, I owed her whatever help I could give to save her
marriage.
We’d left late to pick up Ella and take her and Natalie home, and when we finally got back to our
house, I was exhausted. What I really needed was a long bath before bed, and I’d work on figuring out
how to help Natalie—without hurting her even more—in the morning. She’d torture herself endlessly if
she waited too long to talk to Andrik about what was going on.
Josh parked in front the house, not bothering with the garage. As he turned off the engine, I let
myself out and went to unlock the front door. Once I’d stepped inside the wooden entryway, I felt his
hands on my waist, and he turned me around to face him, pressing me against the wall with his body. He
pressed his lips against mine, working his magic and leaving me sore. Eager hands roamed my body
until they found their way to my neck. Josh held my face tenderly, making me feel precious, needed.
Then the kisses that had quickly made me forget about my friend’s situation abruptly stopped. Josh’s
forehead rested against mine, both of us breathing heavily.
“I can see the gears turning in your head,” he said. “I know you’re trying to figure out a way to
help Natalie. And while I’m nothing but supportive, I want you to remember something.” He pulled back a
little, his deep gray eyes gazing intently into mine. “I love you, Kass. You’re everything to me.”
“I love you, too.”
“I just need you to know that. Whatever’s going on with Natalie and Andrik is upsetting and sad,
and I really hope it isn’t true. The only thing I know for sure is how much I love you. How much I wantyou.”
Anything I could have said would have just repeated what he’d already told me. Instead of telling
him how much I loved him back, I showed him the best way I knew how.
I jumped into his arms and wrapped my legs firmly around his waist, my lips seeking his to
continue their previous assault. I’d always found it easier to communicate with my body what I couldn’t
voice. I kissed his neck and could almost feel his eyes roll to the back of his head in pleasure. It gave
him time to say, “I know it’s totally selfish, but I don’t want to worry about our friends tonight.”
I pulled my lips away from the soft skin of his neck, where I’d felt his heartbeat pulsing, and
leaned back to look at him. “Take me upstairs,” I said, a little breathless. “I want to show you exactly how
I feel about you.”

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What
at first appears to be a brush fire in some undeveloped bottom land
yields the charred remains of a young African-American man. Assheriff’s Katrina Williams conducts her in-spection of the crime
scene, she discovers broken headstones and disturbed open graves in a
forgotten cemetery.

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The
first in a gritty new series featuring sheriff’s detective Katrina
Williams, as she investigates moonshine, murder, and the ghosts of
her own past…
 BODY
OF PROOF

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to Goodreads

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Robert
E. Dunn was born an Army brat and grew up in the Missouri Ozarks. He
wrote his first book at age eleven turning a series of Jack Kirby
comic books into a hand written novel.

Over
many years in the, mostly, honest work of video and film production
he produced everything from documentaries, to training films and his
favorite, travelogues. He returned to writing mystery, horror, and
fantasy fiction for publication after the turn of the century. It
seemed like a good time for change even if the changes were not
always his choice.
Mr.
Dunn is the author of the horror novels, THE RED HIGHWAY, MOTORMAN,
and THE HARROWING, as well as the Katrina Williams mystery/thrillerseries, A LIVING GRAVE, A PARTICULAR DARKNESS, and the upcoming A
DARK PATH.

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(A Living Grave Excerpt)

I felt like it was the end of summer. Not that there was a hint of green or the creeping red-oranges
of leaves turning. In Iraq, everything was brownish. Not even a good, earthy brown. Instead, everything
within my view was a uniform, wasted, dun color. It was easy to imagine the creator ending up here on
the seventh day, out of energy and out of ideas after spending his palate in the joy of painting the rest of
the world. This spit of earth, the dirty asshole of creation we called the Triangle of Death, didn’t even rate
a decent brown.
I had been in country for eight months. I had been First Lieutenant Katrina Williams, Military
Police, attached to the 502nd Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division for a little over a year. Pride
and love had brought me here. Proud to be American and just as proud to have come from a military
family, I was in love with what the ROTC at Southwest Missouri State University had shown me about
my country’s military. I fell in love with the thought of the woman I would become serving my nation. I
wanted to echo the men my father and my uncle were and add my own tone to the family history. Iraq
bled that all out of me. Just like it was bleeding my color out into the dust. Bright red draining into shit
brown.
It was the impending weight of change that made me feel like the end of summer. As a girl, back
home in the Ozarks, the summers seemed to last forever. It wasn’t until the final days, carried over even
into a new school year, when the air cooled and the oaks rusted, that I could feel them ending. Their
endings were like the descent of ice ages, the shifting of epochs. That was exactly how I felt bleeding into
the dirt. The difference was that I felt an impending death rather than transition. The terminus of an
epoch. In Iraq though, nothing was as clear as that. It was death; but it wasn’t.
Lying on my back, I wished I could see blue sky, but not here. The air was hazed with dust so
used up it became a part of the atmosphere. There was no more of the earth in it. Grit, like bad memories
and regret, hanging over an entire nation. I coughed hard and it hurt. A bubbly thickness slithered up my
throat. Using my tongue and what breath I had, I got the slimy mass up to my lips. I just didn’t have it in
me to spit. Instead, I turned my head to the side and let the bloody phlegm slide down my cheek.
Dying is hard.
Wind, hot and cradling the homeland sand so many factions were willing to kill for, ran over the
wall I was hidden behind. It eddied there, slowing and swirling and then dumping the dirt on my naked
skin. A slow-motion burial. Even the land here hated naked women.
I stayed there without moving, but slipping in and out of consciousness for a long time. It seemed
long, anyway. I dreamed. Dreamed or remembered so well they seemed like perfect dreams of—everything.
Green.
We played baseball. Just like in old movies with kids turning a lot into a diamond. No one does
that anymore, but we did. My grandfather played minor league ball years ago and I had a cousin who was
a Cardinals fan. Everyone was a Cardinals fan, so I loved the Royals. When the games were over and it
was hotter than the batter’s box when I was pitching—I had a wild arm—my father would take me to the
river. Later when we had cars, I was drawn there every summer to swim and swing from the ropes. We
floated on old, patched inner tubes and teased boys. That was where I learned to drink beer. My father
would take me fishing on the river. My grandfather would take me on the lakes. I used the same cane pole
my father had when Granddad taught him about fishing. Both of the men used to say to the girl who
complained about not catching anything, “It’s not about the catching, it’s about the fishing.” I don’t think
I ever understood until a good portion of my blood was spilled on the dirt of a world that hated me.
My head spun back to the moment and back to Iraq. If I was going to die, I would have done it
already, I figured. At least my body. That physical part of me would live on. That other part of me, the
girl who loved summer… I think she was already dead. Death and transition.

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