Broken Dolls Excerpt ~ Book Tour

Broken Dolls by BR Kingsolver

Private investigator RB Kendrick makes her living nailing cheating spouses, digging up other dirt to help in a divorce, finding long-lost relatives, and occasionally sniffing out criminal activity and fraud. When she takes a job to find a missing girl, she has no idea she is headed for the most dangerous case of her career. Usually, her ability to read minds gives her an edge. But when the people she’s hunting are also telepaths, that advantage is limited. The search takes her into the dark underbelly of telepathic society, where anything, and anyone, is for sale. She discovers that telepathic women and girls are being trafficked as the ultimate sex slaves. With people trying to kill her, she’s on the run, not knowing who she can trust. Will she find the missing girl, or become a victim herself?

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About the Author:

I made silver and turquoise jewelry for almost a decade, ended up in nursing school, then took a master's in business. Along the way I worked in construction, as a newspaper editor, and somehow found a career working with computers. I love the outdoors, especially the Rocky Mountains. I've skied since high school, with one broken leg and one torn ACL to show for it. I've hiked and camped all my life. I love to travel, though I haven't done enough of it. I've seen a lot of Russia and Mexico, not enough of England and France. Amsterdam is amazing, and the Romanian Alps are breathtaking. Lake Tahoe is a favorite. I have a very significant other, two cats and two Basset Hounds. I'm currently living in Baltimore, nine blocks from the harbor, but still own a home in New Mexico.

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Excerpt from Broken Dolls:

When the waiter cleared our plates, I excused myself to go to the ladies’ room. When I was coming back, Rebecca sent, *He spiked your drink.* It figured. He was so turned on that he wasn’t taking any chances. He wanted to take our ‘relationship’ to the next level. I shuddered to think what that might entail. As I neared the table, I turned my ankle enough to send me off balance and hook the heel of one shoe on the other. Lurching forward, I put out my hands to catch myself and knocked over both my water and wine glasses. The liquid poured across the tablecloth toward him. He jumped back, upending his chair with a crash. Everyone in the restaurant turned toward us.

*Wow,* Rebecca sent, *you’re good. That was nicely done.*

*I do clumsy well. I have a lot of experience,* I told her. I heard her bark of laughter from across the room.

“Oh, my God. I’m so sorry,” I wailed. “I’m so clumsy. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” I picked up my napkin and tried to mop up the liquid.

“You stupid cow,” O’Driscoll said. He was livid. Seeing him wiping at a wet spot on the front of his jacket and pants, I hurried around the table and tried to wipe his pants. Of course, the napkin I was using was soaked, so it only made it worse. I kept up a steady litany of apologies.

Two waiters hurried over to try to contain the catastrophe. *

Man, I’ll bet you could fry an egg on his forehead,* Rebecca sent.

I choked back a burst of laughter, hoping the sound that I made sounded like a sob.

Rebecca pushed more humiliation into me, and suddenly tears streamed down my face.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” I wailed.

“I didn’t mean to. It was an accident.”

O’Driscoll assumed a stony face, letting the waiters clean up and try to dry him off. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, seeing firsthand what I’d seen so often in the minds of my clients. Abused women always make excuses for their abusers. They blame themselves for everything that goes wrong in a relationship. They try to make everything right. And even when they’ve done nothing wrong, they lie to protect the bastards. It was enlightening seeing O’Driscoll automatically assume that I deserved punishment for anything that inconvenienced him.

*Rebecca, I need an exit,* I sent as the waiters reseated us with fresh drinks.