Be Careful What You Wish For by R.K. Avery
Publisher: Brighton Publishing
Publication Date: April 28, 2011
Format: Paperback - 236 pages / Kindle - 405 KB / Nook 991 KB
ISBN: 1936587416
ASIN: B004YKT0L2
Genre: Mystery / Suspense / Psychological Thriller
BUY THE BOOK: Be Careful What You Wish For
Book Description:
Bea Miller is a penniless widow, living a meager existence among the town’s residents with her four young, rambunctious boys. Her entire life she wished and dreamed of having a little girl of her own. When everything she did to have one of her own failed, Bea takes matters into her own hands and lives by the chilling words of her estranged father, “If you want something, take it.”
She and the boys visit a local beach and find the little girl of her dreams. She snatches the girl and they disappear in seconds, only to leave the parents bewildered and devastated.
Through the handwritten journals of Bea Miller, she takes you on a journey into the deranged mind of an individual who believes you can make your own wishes come true—at any expense; and sadly, also at the expense of others.
Book Excerpt:
Chapter One
Bea Miller had been waiting over six, long years for this day to arrive; and once she’d made up her mind, there was no stopping her. Ever since that last fiasco at the Stop-N-Save, she thought she would never get the chance to add to her family again.
Unable to sleep, she had risen early and fidgeted around the trailer, waiting for her four boys to wake up. It was a beautiful day, and Bea was anxious to get started. The weather outside was perfect: powder blue skies, not a cloud in sight, and the temperature was expected to get into the high 80’s. She was feeling a little jittery; but even so, she made herself a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal and tried, unsuccessfully, to calm her frazzled nerves. As she sat at the mismatched dinette set, she looked at her wrist as she twirled the old, out-of-style charm bracelet that Henry had been so kind to purchase for her as a surprise. She wondered what her life would have been like if Henry were still a part of it. Oh, Henry, I continue to miss you every day.
Bea looked up, thinking she heard someone outside. As she listened closer, she heard a screen door slam shut. Mrs. Brown is probably going out to get the paper. She leaned over to peek out the kitchen window. Yes, her neighbor was walking down her driveway to the street, where the paperboy had left the Bunting Valley Gazette, the only local paper which—in Bea’s opinion—never covered anything important. Bea didn’t care who won the swim meet, or who had grown the largest pumpkin. This was one of the reasons why Bea was never one to pay attention to the news, be it broadcast across the airwaves, or in print form. Mrs. Brown, her meddling, next-door neighbor, was quite the opposite. She lived to hear what the neighbors and local politicians were up to. Mrs. Brown was wearing a God-awful, flowery house dress, with her hair up in curlers, and big, furry, pink slippers that looked as if she had stuck each of her feet into a wad of cotton candy. On cue, Mrs. Brown tripped over her cotton candy slippers, and then quickly regained her balance, looking around to see if anyone had seen her trip she straightened herself. Bea couldn’t help but chuckle. When it appeared Mrs. Brown realized no one had seen, she bent over to pull a few dried up buds from her petunias, as if that was what she had been doing all along.
Bea busied herself by straightening up the kitchen and small living room. When she brought her daughter home, she wanted the trailer to be presentable. She stood back and surveyed the room, wishing she could afford new furniture . . . Maybe next year. She took the braided throw rugs outside and tried to shake the dirt and dust from them, but a few were beyond help. As she placed them back on the worn out carpet, she made certain to cover the blood stain that remained. After all this time, the stain still bothered her. She didn’t know why. He’d certainly had it coming.
She was growing impatient, waiting for the boys to get up, so she plugged in the old Hoover vacuum cleaner, banging a little louder, and making a little more noise than necessary, hoping to roust them. In the summer, they had a tendency to stay up late, and then sleep until noon. However, Bea would not allow it today. Still trying to pass the time, she pulled out her tattered old journal and started a new entry.
July 17, 2010
Today is the day I get to meet my daughter. I wish the boys would get up already. The sooner we get to the lake, the sooner I will find her, and the sooner we will get back home.
I know I will find the perfect little girl there. There will be no mistake this time. I already filled the boys in and told them if they so much as uttered a word to anyone as to what goes on at the lake; I will personally cut their tongues out. And I meant it. I’ve waited for this day far too long; no one is going to mess it up. I feel like I could literally kill anyone who gets in my way.
I hope she’s little, but not too little. I know I don’t have the patience to go through the terrible two’s all over again. I wonder what her name is. I hope it’s pretty, so I don’t have to change it.
Not having the patience to wait any longer, Bea closed the journal and placed it delicately on the kitchen counter, to be put away later. She usually kept it under lock and key in her bedroom. She had been making entries in it—on and off, for over thirty-five years now—and it meant the world to her. She still couldn’t bring herself to reread the earlier entries. They brought back too many unpleasant memories.
Bea Miller had been waiting over six, long years for this day to arrive; and once she’d made up her mind, there was no stopping her. Ever since that last fiasco at the Stop-N-Save, she thought she would never get the chance to add to her family again.
Unable to sleep, she had risen early and fidgeted around the trailer, waiting for her four boys to wake up. It was a beautiful day, and Bea was anxious to get started. The weather outside was perfect: powder blue skies, not a cloud in sight, and the temperature was expected to get into the high 80’s. She was feeling a little jittery; but even so, she made herself a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal and tried, unsuccessfully, to calm her frazzled nerves. As she sat at the mismatched dinette set, she looked at her wrist as she twirled the old, out-of-style charm bracelet that Henry had been so kind to purchase for her as a surprise. She wondered what her life would have been like if Henry were still a part of it. Oh, Henry, I continue to miss you every day.
Bea looked up, thinking she heard someone outside. As she listened closer, she heard a screen door slam shut. Mrs. Brown is probably going out to get the paper. She leaned over to peek out the kitchen window. Yes, her neighbor was walking down her driveway to the street, where the paperboy had left the Bunting Valley Gazette, the only local paper which—in Bea’s opinion—never covered anything important. Bea didn’t care who won the swim meet, or who had grown the largest pumpkin. This was one of the reasons why Bea was never one to pay attention to the news, be it broadcast across the airwaves, or in print form. Mrs. Brown, her meddling, next-door neighbor, was quite the opposite. She lived to hear what the neighbors and local politicians were up to. Mrs. Brown was wearing a God-awful, flowery house dress, with her hair up in curlers, and big, furry, pink slippers that looked as if she had stuck each of her feet into a wad of cotton candy. On cue, Mrs. Brown tripped over her cotton candy slippers, and then quickly regained her balance, looking around to see if anyone had seen her trip she straightened herself. Bea couldn’t help but chuckle. When it appeared Mrs. Brown realized no one had seen, she bent over to pull a few dried up buds from her petunias, as if that was what she had been doing all along.
Bea busied herself by straightening up the kitchen and small living room. When she brought her daughter home, she wanted the trailer to be presentable. She stood back and surveyed the room, wishing she could afford new furniture . . . Maybe next year. She took the braided throw rugs outside and tried to shake the dirt and dust from them, but a few were beyond help. As she placed them back on the worn out carpet, she made certain to cover the blood stain that remained. After all this time, the stain still bothered her. She didn’t know why. He’d certainly had it coming.
She was growing impatient, waiting for the boys to get up, so she plugged in the old Hoover vacuum cleaner, banging a little louder, and making a little more noise than necessary, hoping to roust them. In the summer, they had a tendency to stay up late, and then sleep until noon. However, Bea would not allow it today. Still trying to pass the time, she pulled out her tattered old journal and started a new entry.
July 17, 2010
Today is the day I get to meet my daughter. I wish the boys would get up already. The sooner we get to the lake, the sooner I will find her, and the sooner we will get back home.
I know I will find the perfect little girl there. There will be no mistake this time. I already filled the boys in and told them if they so much as uttered a word to anyone as to what goes on at the lake; I will personally cut their tongues out. And I meant it. I’ve waited for this day far too long; no one is going to mess it up. I feel like I could literally kill anyone who gets in my way.
I hope she’s little, but not too little. I know I don’t have the patience to go through the terrible two’s all over again. I wonder what her name is. I hope it’s pretty, so I don’t have to change it.
Not having the patience to wait any longer, Bea closed the journal and placed it delicately on the kitchen counter, to be put away later. She usually kept it under lock and key in her bedroom. She had been making entries in it—on and off, for over thirty-five years now—and it meant the world to her. She still couldn’t bring herself to reread the earlier entries. They brought back too many unpleasant memories.
Be Careful What You Wish For - Book Trailer
About The Author
“Having the ability to make people laugh or cry, just by using the written language, is a gift so powerful and I hope, one day, my name will be among those who possess it” ~ R.K. Avery
Be Careful What You Wish For is a psychological thriller. She calls it “works of fiction with truth sprinkled throughout” and is available for sale in both e-Book and paperback or wherever fine books are sold. Having been kidnapped from a beach as a small child, she has pondered time and time again what her life may have been like if her story didn’t have a happy ending. Now she wrote her own ending.
R. K. Avery lives in Northeast Ohio with her husband, two kids, and four dogs. She often jokes instead of a sign that says, “Don’t let the dogs out,” she has a sign that says, “Don’t let any more dogs in.”
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