Excerpts

Chapter One Home. No four-letter word had ever sounded better, Genna Hastings thought as she maneuvered herself, careful of her sprained ankle, and her crutches out of her car. She stood up and took a deep breath of hyacinth-scented Connecticut air. Whack! Something hit her smack in the back of the head with the force of a Titan missile. Rubbing her head with one hand, she turned and stared down at the football that rocked harmlessly on the driveway beside her loafer-clad feet. It was an appropriate ending to a thoroughly miserable vacation. "Look out, Miss Hastings!" came the belated shout of one of the two boys pounding up the street toward her. "Jeez, Miss Hastings, I'm sorry," said Brad Murray, stooping to scoop up the ball. "Yeah, sorry, Genna," Kyle Dennison chimed in. Kyle was the chubby ten-year-old son of Genna's best friend, and so he felt entitled to call her by her first name. To Brad, she would always be his ex-kindergarten teacher. He would call her Miss Hastings for the rest of his life. Kyle shrugged. "We didn't see you." "That's a comfort," Genna grumbled to herself, wincing as she felt the goose egg rising on the back of her skull. "Mom said you weren't coming home till Monday, and it's only Friday. Why aren't you still on vacation? We've been using your driveway for long-passing patterns. Hey, how come you're on crutches?" "All that in one breath," Genna said with a teasing smile as she looked down at Kyle. "Vacation was a bust. I sprained my ankle playing tennis." "Bummer." "Really." "We're waiting for J.J.," Brad said. "Who's J.J.? New kid on the block?" "J. J. Hennessy," they said in unison, staring at her expectantly. Genna stared back at them. Was she missing the punch line of a joke, or what? "Am I supposed to gasp here, or scream or something? Who's J. J. Hennessy?" The boys made sounds of disgust and rolled their eyes. Kyle collapsed onto the driveway and writhed around, holding his head. "He's only the most awesome quarterback in the universe!" Brad raved. "He's so excellent!" Kyle exclaimed, lying spread-eagled, flat on his back. "And he's moved in right here!" Genna looked at the lawn and house adjacent to the property she rented and felt suddenly as if someone had punched her in the stomach. The yard she had so admired had been cut in diagonal stripes. A dozen pink plastic flamingos lurked in the shrubbery, their long, craning necks poking up through boxwood and around juniper. Sitting in a lawn chair on the front porch of the lovely Federal-style house was a busty blond mannequin dressed in shorts and a tight pink T-shirt, one arm raised as if waving. Genna sucked in a horrified breath. "Oh, my Lord." "Cool, huh?" Brad said, mistaking her shock for awe. Kyle struggled to his feet, nodding enthusiastically and tugging his T-shirt down over his pudgy tummy. "The mannequin's named Candy. Outrageous!" "Oh, my Lord," Genna muttered again. What sort of cretin would commit such atrocities? she wondered. That house and yard were the epitome, the essence of Tory Hills. Quietly lovely, old, and treasured. Occupying a large lot in the middle of the treelined block, the house was painted a sedate shade of gray, with white trim around the multipaned windows. The front entrance boasted a pillared portico and a graceful fanlight over the door. It was Genna's dream house. Now some tasteless moron had bought it. The front door of the house swung open and Brad and Kyle went into a trance. They stared transfixed, as if they were awaiting a holy vision. Then J. J. Hennessy made his appearance. Genna took one look at the man an Excerpted from The Trouble with J. J. by Tami Hoag All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.