High School was deadly…

Forty years ago, two teenagers witnessed a vile crime. Terrified, one buried the memory; the other wrote it in her diary and hid the journal.

Now one is dead and the other fighting for her life after a deliberate case of food poisoning. Has someone discovered their disturbing secret?

Not only must Gloria Trevisi follow the long-dead trail of a murderer, but she must choose between duty and friendship. It’s no easy task…especially when her own distant past is threatening to ruin her future…

REVIEW

Gloria Trevisi is the local reporter for the Sun, which covers local events and gossip. In a single day, her life spins out of control. She finds she is pregnant, cut off from her husband, possibly poisoned and a terrible part of her past is back.

Over forty years ago, two teenagers witnessed a horrific crime and kept a secret. Now it appears that someone knows that they were witnesses and wants to prevent them from ever telling. 

The Canning Circle has been struck by poison. It is no coincidence that two of the hardest hit women have been friends for over forty years. Gloria has been trusted by one member of the Canning Circle to get the evidence of the old crime and hide it, as it may be related to the poisoning.

The story has more twists than a pretzel. Gloria has a lot on her plate and the author demonstrates her strength by piling more issues onto her shoulders. This book is well and truly a mystery that keeps the reader hanging until the very end. A.R. Grobbo writes a wonderful series with characters that withstand the test of time.

Reviewed by: Delane
www.coffeetimeromance.com
5/5 cups

EXCERPT

With a good friend in hospital due to food poisoning, a recent quarrel with her absent husband tugging her conscience, her own stomach in knots, and a new boss waiting to meet her, Gloria is already having a bad week. And her work day hasn’t even started…

It was nearly ten when Gloria finally reached the office. This was turning into a worse day than she had thought it would be, and she hadn’t even met her new...

“Oh, bloody hell!” She took a long look at the person seated behind the manager’s desk in the glass cubicle. Her mouth went suddenly dry, and she had to take several deep breaths before walking into his office and closing the door behind her. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t look up; his bored, pale blue eyes were riveted to the pages in front of him. “It is certainly about time you showed up for work, Gloria. Are you this late every day?”

She leaned against the door, barely breathing. “I’ve been working since eight. You know damn well I like to start early. What are you doing here, Paul? This isn’t your kind of scene.” She glared at the man behind the desk. In his mid-forties, heavy-set, he had dark blond, wavy hair, thick sandy brows drawn together in a frown, full cheeks and a well-trimmed beard. He hadn’t bothered to touch up the beard with color, she noted; it was generously flecked with white. Obviously, he had done so with his hair, and quite recently.

He finally raised his head, pushed back his comfortable chair and passed his eyes lazily over her from head to foot. He shook his head slowly. “Well, my love, you look about the same as you did eight years ago, when you walked out after nearly destroying my apartment.”

“Do I? Too bad I can’t say the same for you,” Gloria answered without returning the smile. “You’ve beefed up. And I didn’t destroy your apartment, just one rather delicate item of furniture, accidentally. And as for walking out?” She drew a breath. Something in the way her palms had begun to sweat was very familiar and very unpleasant. “As I recall, I left when you introduced me to your fiancée. It seems I wasn’t needed anymore.”

“No? I wanted you to know where we stood with each other.”

“With each other? I certainly knew where I stood,” she replied between clenched teeth. “And for the sake of manners I suppose I should ask, how is Emily these days?”

“We’re separated. She was a disappointment.” He shrugged.

“Still the same old bad habits? Screwing around with your protégées?”

“Still the same mouth I remember, too. I imagine you can still out-cuss a sewer cleaner.” He gazed at her with an amused expression. Obviously expecting her reaction, and definitely prepared for it, she realized, he had her fully at a disadvantage. “Are you sitting down for this interview? I see on your personnel file—” he waved a folder absently, “that you’re married now. That must be a recent development.”

“I’m standing, thanks. Is this an interview? I already have a job.” She bit off her words like chunks of bitter, black licorice. She wanted to smack that satisfied smirk off his face. Retreat now, her common sense warned. No good; a certain fascination, like the slow uncoiling of a deadly snake, held her rooted to the floor. She resisted the urge to dry her perspiring hands against the flanks of her khaki slacks, a dead giveaway of her nervousness. “If you’ve been reading my personnel file, then you must know everything about me that you need to know.”

His calm gaze didn’t waver. “And you resent my being here. I imagine I took you by surprise, showing up with no warning. I’d planned to let bygones be bygones.” He gestured with the file again. “Does your marriage make a difference to you? I know mine did.”

She was as still as a marble statue, and felt about as cold, as she clenched her clipboard. “It makes no difference, Paul. Even if I were the last single woman on earth, I still wouldn’t go near you. “