Sassy, sexy, & suspenseful!
In this highly-anticipated sequel to Red Hot Property, Molly O'Malley's wacky new client is Liberty True, a rebel patriot who invites Molly to a different kind of tea party, and drags her—kicking and screaming—into the revolution. Coming Soon!
Learn more HERE!
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| Red Hot Liberty - Prologue |
Twenty-nine year old Molly O’Malley decided to become a real estate agent because the Cuban psychic, Havana Santiago, told her she should. That was six months ago. The new career had seemed like a good idea at the time, despite the ominous warnings that accompanied the prediction. Havana had seen the spilling of familiar blood and, tragically, familiar blood had flowed. Despite the accuracy of Havana’s vision—or perhaps because of it—Molly returned for another consultation.
Cuban-born Havana met with her clients in the parlor of an old Victorian home in the Capital Hill area of Denver. The last time Molly had been here the décor was 1960’s retro, Havana’s attire was pink slumber party not-so-chic, and her animal companion was a nervous myna bird. Sometime between then and now Havana must have realized that Americans had different expectations about how a professional psychic should present herself.
On this visit, Molly discovered the parlor was now draped in black and red velvet, a dry ice machine belched smoke, the pile of dead bird bones that Havana had used for divination was replaced by a large crystal ball, and the jukebox that previously played old Beatle’s tunes had been replaced by an eerie silence. The only items that safely made the transition were the voodoo dolls and a large statue of the Virgin Mary.
On Havana’s shoulder there was no longer a talkative myna bird; there was now an equally vocal natural mink Tonkinese cat perched in its place. Havana introduced the cat as Marina Night; Marina Night greeted Molly with a blood-curdling whine.
Molly wondered if the cat had eaten the bird.
Havana’s sloppy pink sweat suit had been replaced by a flowing, red caftan; a red veil covered her head instead of fat pink hair curlers; and her furry pink slippers had disappeared leaving bare feet adorned only by a variety of bandages.
Havana noticed Molly’s attention to her feet. “Marina Night, she try to kill slippers and send me to hospital. Berry bad.” Havana’s blood-red fingernails clawed the air; she bared her teeth and hissed for emphasis.
Molly was glad she was wearing her winter boots.
“Hokay, sit. Hear what spirits say.”
Molly took a seat at a small round table in the center of the room across from Havana and Marina Night.
As Havana lost herself in the crystal ball, a chill began to seize the room. Molly wanted to slip back into her coat but was reluctant to move and risk distracting the psychic from her task. While Molly waited for Havana to speak, she tried to avoid Marina Night’s spooky smoky blue eyes.
“All around chew is dragon’s breath and smell of sulfur,” Havana said. “I see a devil woman, fear and loss.”
Molly resisted the urge to bolt from the room. What had possessed her to come here again? She struggled to find her voice. “Do you see anything good?”
Havana nodded slowly, her gaze sinking even deeper into the crystal. “A knight who slays dragons and an angel who sprout wings. Chore family, it grow bigger.”
Molly’s hand flew to her belly. A baby? Not good timing.
Havana shuddered. “Spirits, dey say bad blood and a berry bad seed. Dare be crazy peoples and angry guns.”
Molly responded plaintively, her tone whiney and sounding like that of a little girl. “But, I’m just a real estate agent.”
Havana’s head snapped to attention, her eyes captured Molly’s and her words suddenly held no trace of an accent. “Oh, kitten, you’re so much more than that.”
Molly struggled to breathe. Havana’s tone and inflection was that of Molly’s best friend who had recently been murdered. “Is it really you?” she finally managed to ask.
“Oh, my very precious kitten, promise me that you won’t let the demons win.”
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