Mystery - Deadly Sins: A Dezeray Jackson Mini-Series
by Kori D. Miller
(Fremont, NE, USA)
Available On Kindle.
Download Your Copy of - Deadly Sins: A Dezeray Jackson Mini-Series
The serious short bio goes something like this: Kori Miller's creative non-fiction and short stories have been published in Fine Lines Literary Journal. She launched Back Porch Writer: The show for writers, about writers, and writing in March 2013. She’s authored three books: My life in black and white: A book of experiences; Deadly Sins 1; and, Dante.
10 Fun Facts about me:
1. I was part of the Merry Marian Mime Troupe during high school
2. I've studied four martial art styles and am adding two more.
3. I'm a lazy gardener.
4. My favorite fruits are tomatoes, avocados, and strawberries.
5. I've been a vegetarian, in some form, for 17 years.
6. I started learning French when I was about 6-yrs-old. Don’t ask me anything, now!
7. As a kid, I learned how to sign Happy Birthday from watching Happy Days.
8. I practiced Vinyasa yoga for several years.
9. I play the piano – badly, and don't read music very well!
10. I have been to almost every state in the US – even if it was just because the plane I was in stopped there.
Deadly Sins: A Dezeray Jackson Mini-Series
Four crimes, three bodies, two stolen artifacts, and one private investigator - Dezeray Jackson. She’ll take you to the mat if you cross her, and you won’t get up unless she lets you. Dez likes weapons, but none more than using her hands to lock a wrist, or execute a perfect armbar. Her best friend is her Rottweiler named Godfrey. He hogs the bed. She’s fed up with the grind of following losers, snapping pictures, and reporting to a lousy boss. It’s time to strike out on her own, but she’s got a few more cases to solve, first.
What readers are saying:
Christopher Brown, Graphic Artist, Maryland
“With an engaging and likable character in tough-as-nails Dez, Deadly Sins takes the reader on a journey of intensity and mystery rarely seen these days. Mystery and danger fans rejoice!”
Ryan Attard, Author of The Legacy Series, Malta
“If Miller ever makes a full novel series out of this collection I'm sure it will be a great hit. Perhaps we might also see Dezeray kick some butt on TV as well.”
Mrs. Craig Johnson, Educator, Florida
“After getting past "lazy reader" syndrome and appreciating the authors ability to include the readers imagination in working for the conclusion I was sold. Can't wait for the next one!”
Scene (1): The Whip
NEW YORK, NY
I opted to walk the four blocks from my apartment to the New York City office of Tracer International. It was my last day. By this time tomorrow, I'd be heading to Omaha, NE. A free house was an offer I couldn't refuse. And, Omaha would be a welcome change of pace. "Dez." Sam Walters greeted me as I stepped out of the elevator on the 20th floor. "Sam." I kept walking. He tagged along. The office was like every other place I'd worked. The elevator door opened and the reception desk was all you saw. To the right, a door led to the back offices and cubicles for entry-and mid-level investigators. That was me. I waved my ID in front of the sensor. There was a click, and the lock released. "You've got one more assignment. Becker dropped it on your desk an hour ago." I checked my watch. It was 7:30 a.m. "He said I should go along with you." I stopped at my desk. A file rested in the center. I'd cleaned everything else out last night, not that it amounted to much after two years. It all fit in a shoebox. I opened the file. "It's a stolen-property case. The client doesn't want the police involved. I'm not sure why." Sam plopped down in a chair next to my desk. He was an entry-level investigator. "Sasha Alexander? Why do I know that name?" I asked more to myself than to Sam, but he spoke up anyway. "Socialite. She owns a gallery in SOHO." He twirled a pencil between his fingers. "Wait a minute! Not that gallery?" "One and the same." He grinned. "Christ." I dropped the file. "Let's go." We grabbed a taxi. Screw the trains. It was my last day. Company-paid expenses are a privilege I'd be without in about 24 hours.
Alexander's gallery fit in perfectly with all the others in SOHO until you walked through the doors. I paused on the street in front and took a deep breath. "Let's go!" Sam, always the eager one, reached for the handle. People pushed past me on the sidewalk. I followed Sam through large, ornately-carved wood doors into a small alcove. Heavy, plush, red drapes hung from the ceiling, blocking our view. Sam pulled one of the drapes aside, allowing me to enter the gallery. "Oy," I mumbled, and took it all in at once. Some things can't be unseen. "Wow" was all Sam could manage to say.
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