Beauty And The Black Sheep
The only warning Frankie Moorehouse had that twenty gallons of water were going to fall on her and her desk was a single drop.
One drop.
It hit the financial statement she was reviewing, right in the middle of the page that suggested the White Caps Bed & Breakfast was dangerously close to going under.
She groaned, figuring the roof must be leaking again. The sprawling mansion had all kinds of nooks and crannies, which made for an elegant and interesting floor plan. Unfortunately, the roof covering all of these architectural treasures was a complicated warren of angles that trapped old leaves and moisture, creating little pockets of rot.
Squinting her eyes, she glanced out the window, searching the dimming light for a rainstorm that wasn't there.
She looked up with a frown, saw a darkened spot on the ceiling, and had just enough time to get out the words "What the hell —" before the torrent hit her.
The water carried with it chunks of horse-hair plaster from the ceiling and an evil tide of filth that had collected in the rafters. It hit her in a stinky mess, splashing all over the desk and the ... read full excerpt from: Beauty and the Black Sheep ebook
