Flock And Roll (TUFT SWALLOW) by Vicki Hilton EPUB & PDF

Flock And Roll (TUFT SWALLOW) by Vicki Hilton EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online

• Status: Available for Free Download
• Authors: Vicki Hilton
• Language: English
• Genre: contemporary romance
• Format: PDF / EPUB
• Size: 2 MB
• Price: Free

RO
“Shit, shit, shit!” My voice mixed with the sizzle of the eggs in the pan,
oil spitting furiously. Damn Gran’s rickety stove. Even after my
brother stacked some coasters under one of its feet, the old dinosaur
still leaned like the titanic.

The oil had made it through my T-shirt, and I fanned at my chest,
wafting a hand over my boobs as if it would relieve the burn. My night
wasn’t exactly turning out how I planned. I was already up way later than
I’d wanted, and adding laundry to my pre-bed to-do list made my shoulders
sink. I’d deal with stains in the morning. It was safe to say nobody would
ever utter the words “domestic goddess” and Rowena Swan in the same
sentence.

After checking the oil hadn’t left burns, I picked up my giant slushy cup
from the counter. The paper straw sagged a little as I took a slug.
I’d spent the evening over at Eve’s place. What was supposed to be a
late afternoon coffee had turned into a Bridgerton marathon. Season one, of
course. The Duke of Hastings was a sight that never got old. I’d left Eve’s
house just in time to get a raspberry ice at the Plume ‘n Zoom on the way
home. Free slushies were one perk of being an employee at Tuft Swallow’s
only gas station.

I gripped the cup, inhaling the smell of the eggs as I pushed them
around the pan. The house was quiet. The only light illuminating the
kitchen was the bulb over the range hood. Coop and Gran must already be
in bed. It usually took a stampede of wildebeest to wake my brother, but I
didn’t like to chance it. He was great as big brothers went, but could be
grumpy as hell if he didn’t get his sleep.

I completed another lap of the pan with my spatula when a tingle at the
back of my neck froze me mid-sweep. The hair at the base of my ponytail
lifted as if someone traced ghostly fingers along my nape. I wrapped my
hand tighter around the plastic in my palm. Had somebody got into the
house?

Craning my neck, I listened for footsteps or heavy breathing. Maybe the
grind of an ax being dragged along floorboards.
Nothing. I shook my head. I was being ridiculous. If someone had
gotten in, surely I would’ve noticed. Besides, I had no hope of defending
myself with just a plastic flipper. And this was Tuft Swallow, not the Bronx.
We’d won the safest town in Hawkthorne County fourteen years in a row.
As far as I knew, there’d never been a murder here. Particularly one in
which the victim had been unalived frying eggs.

I relaxed my grip on the spatula, but a creak of wood and a low, husky
voice sounded behind me.

“Hello, Ro.”
My heart somersaulted, and I sucked in a quick breath as I whirled
around with the flipper raised high, poised for action. The next second, icy
cold hit my chest. I gasped, glancing down. In my terror, I’d squeezed my
slushie cup in a death grip. Instead of fending off an ax murderer, all I’d
done was send a dripping pool of red ice down my front.

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