Twitter: #Hitwoman

Excerpt: THE HITWOMAN AND THE FAMILY JEWELS

	You know it’s going to be a bad day when your worst nightmare is coming true, Doomsday is excited, and God is lecturing you about silver linings or some such c--p.
	I dumped the contents of a dresser drawer into a garbage bag.
	If you’d asked me a couple of months ago what my worst nightmare was, I would have told you it was the possibility of having to move back in with my meddling aunts, and that’s exactly what I found myself doing.
	“You’re doing the right thing,” God told me, as though he could read my thoughts.  
	I glanced over at the anole lizard, stretched out in the terrarium perched precariously in the middle of my bed.  His full name is Godzilla, but he preferred to go by “God”.  And yes, I can talk to him. This is a relatively new skill…just one of many I’ve developed since a car accident earlier this year.
	“I know I’m doing the right thing. That doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.”
	“Happy DeeDee!” The seventy-pound Doberman Pinscher sprawled in the doorway, whose real name is Doomsday, was excited because I’d told her we were moving to a place that had grass. I’d also told her it was hell on earth, but that particular detail hadn’t registered in her tiny canine brain.
	Ignoring her, God said, “You don’t have to like it. You just have to remember that you’re doing this for Katie.”
	Katie was the only person I’d do this for.  The lawyer I’d hired to help me fight for custody of my niece had made the suggestion I move back in with my aunts. She said it would help to illustrate I could provide a stable family environment for the little girl once she was released from the premium care facility. The car accident had left her with a traumatic brain injury, resulted in the death of her parents, and made me Katie’s legal guardian. It also left me able to converse with animals, but I don’t like to think about that.
	Just like I don’t like to think about the fact I’m a hitwoman.
	“Are you adopting a homeless motif?” God asked.
	“What?”
	“Most people treat their belongings with respect when they’re packing for a move. You’re putting all of your worldly possessions into a trash bag. Are you trying out a bag lady look?”
	“I’m only moving my clothes, not all my worldly possessions. Everything else is staying here. If you piss me off you can stay here too.”
	“God take! God take!” Doomsday panted.
“You’ve upset the imbecile with your threats,” God drawled smugly. “Don’t—“ 
Before I could finish berating the lizard for being mean to the dog (yes, my life is that pathetic) my alarm clock buzzed. “Crap!”
	“You’re going to be late,” God said.
	I dropped the half-filled garbage bag on the floor. “Where are my keys?”
	“Kitchen table,” he replied. “Don’t forget to turn on the television before you leave.”
	Snatching up the remote, I turned on the set and ran from the room.
	“True crime!” God shouted. “You forgot to set it to the true crime station!”
Turning around I did his bidding. When I’d first brought him home, the lizard had been fanatical about watching Wheel of Fortune, but now, since he’s my wingman whenever I go off to kill someone, he’s obsessed with true crime shows.

Author Bio:
Besides being a writer, JB Lynn is a compulsive reader, a runner (of sorts), an enthusiastic cook (who doesn't get the appeal of the Food Network), and someone who has an irresistible urge to eavesdrop at all times.
JB has a great love of her husband, dogs, coffee, purple ink, spiral notebooks, running gear, hot showers, and '80s music. Given enough time, all of these things will eventually show up in her books.

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