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THOSE FLANNIGAN BOYS is available on Amazon.com. The following is an excerpt from the book: Comfort, Idaho might have been a quiet town, if not for the Flannigan boys, but that was the way of things. The town was located between Thunder Mountain and Lightning Canyon. The boys lived with their mother, Rose, and father, Big Red, so-called for obvious reasons. He stood over six-feet-tall with flaming red hair as bright as a summer setting sun. Red Flannigan traveled a lot, leaving the three boys in their mother's care. Unfortunately, he was away when it all began that Saturday morning in early June.  "Come on, you guys, hurry up," whispered Scott Flannigan, "before Mom catches us." He looked one way, then the other. Matt and P.J. Flannigan followed their older brother out the screen door. P.J., as usual, forgot to close it gently. It slammed behind him with a loud, ominous bang. "P.J.!" Scott and Matt shouted together. "Now we're stuck," Scott added. "I didn’t mean to," P.J. muttered, his lower lip quivering. "You pipsqueak," Scott retorted. "Now we'll have to do yard work for Mrs. Bee instead of going to the river." Just as predicted, Rose Flannigan opened the door and stepped out. "Where do you boys think you're going?" She propped her hands on her lean hips, always a bad sign. Scott flashed his dimples, a gesture that usually softened even the meanest teacher at school. Somehow, it never worked with his mother. "Why? What'd you need?" he asked. She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "You know perfectly well what you promised to do today." Rose tapped her foot as the three boys stared at the ground. "If your father were home, you wouldn't have forgotten, would you?" She pushed her light brown hair away from her face as she spoke. "No, ma'am," Matt said, his blue eyes wide. Matt was honest to the point of pain, a trait that thoroughly disgusted his brothers. Even P.J., at the age of eight, a year younger, had developed a certain knack for creative thinking. "We were just going there now, Mom," P.J. said, fluttering his thick eyelashes. Being the youngest, he knew how to take full advantage of his littlest-one-in-the-family position. Scott, tall for a twelve-year-old, watched him work his usual magic. Rose smiled and patted P.J. on the head. "All right. Run along. I'll have lunch ready when you're done." She closed the door. Scott kicked the bottom step saying, "Mom likes you best, P.J." P.J. grinned in the smug way that thoroughly irritated Scott. The boys headed for the cottage next door, consoled by the fact that their neighbor baked the best cookies in four counties. Mrs. Bibdidlee, or Mrs. Bee, as they called her in private, boasted she was the oldest resident of Comfort, Idaho. No one knew exactly how old that was or how long she had been there. As the boys approached her house, Scott noticed she had a visitor. Gerald Grimes from the bank stood on her porch while Mrs. Bee stood just inside the open door. Scott frowned, wondering what the man was up to. "I don't understand, Gerry," Mrs. Bee was saying. "There must be some mistake. The last time I saw Hector, he said he'd take care of the mortgage." Mr. Grimes shifted his weight. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Bibdidlee, but he stopped making the payments a year ago. You owe the bank almost six thousand dollars. That's including interest."  "The effort's up to us, the results are up to God."Home/Author Bio/Links ©  bonniedrury@yahoo.com Read Pamela Toth at Silhouette Books   Pam loves cats!www.bonnibooks.com |
