The Tessa Randolph Collection, Books 1-3 by Paula Lester (good short books .TXT) đź“•
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The Tessa Randolph Collection, Books 1-3
Christine Zane Thomas and Paula Lester
Published by Paula Lester and Christine Zane Thomas, 2021.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Book 2: The Scythe’s Secrets: Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Book 3: Reap What She Sows: Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Also By Christine Zane Thomas
About Christine Zane Thomas
About Paula Lester
Copyright Notice
THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
Tessa Randolph Cozy Mysteries, Books 1-3
First edition.
Copyright © 2020 Paula Lester and Christine Zane Thomas.
Written by Paula Lester and Christine Zane Thomas.
Cover Design by Mariah Sinclair at thecovervault.com
Chapter 1
IT WAS A HORRIBLE DAY for escorting recently dead people to the other side. Truly nasty, with a chilly, persistent rain and a general gray haze in the air that seemed as though it had the ability to cling to a person like the muslin wrappings of a long-dead mummy.
Not that any day could be considered a great one for reaping souls, but since it was Tessa Randolph’s first day on the job, she’d been hoping for sunshine and warmth. An inkling told her that reaping was neither an indoor nor outdoor job but a little bit of both. Still, she hoped the day would be mostly about paperwork.
Isn’t that the norm? She was sure she’d be watching instructional videos and filling out the necessary tax forms all day. Then again, this wasn’t a normal job.
Tessa’s key slid from the car’s ignition as if it wasn’t even required. She patted the dashboard. “You don’t like the wet weather either, do you, Linda?”
The 1981 Buick LeSabre didn’t answer but shuddered a bit as its engine responded belatedly to the cue to stop running.
The old four-door behemoth might as well be a tank. She’d gotten away unscathed from two accidents, keeping Tessa safe too. And she couldn’t be coaxed to move more than sixty miles per hour. But Tessa loved her and babied the car like an aging relative. And Linda had never left Tessa on the side of the road, unlike her last boyfriend.
Tessa’s thin knit cardigan sagged over her shoulder, and she pulled it tighter around her chest. She peered at the building in front of her. It was a nondescript, squat gray brick structure with no obvious windows. The wooden sign over the front door said Cooper’s Life Insurance. It was broken right in the center, the two halves sagging. The walkway to the front door was similarly run-down, with cracked concrete jutting up at odd angles, creating trip hazards galore. The hedges in front of the building didn’t appear to have been trimmed for at least a decade, resembling jungle plants more than suburban landscaping.
Tessa bent her neck to gaze above the depressing scene. A dark cloud hung right over the building. She sighed.
It wasn’t a life insurance company—that was just a ruse to keep humans away from the place, as was the atmosphere of creepy deterioration of the grounds.
For the hundredth time in the past week, Tessa wondered how, exactly, she’d gotten to this point in her life. She was starting a new job she had zero interest in doing, with a boss she’d rather shave her head and give up all her beloved purses than work for.
She ran her hands through thick black hair, mentally sending it an apology for even thinking about getting rid of it. It was truly her most favorite feature, and she identified with it, spending hours every week keeping it soft and healthy. Still, if it meant she didn’t have to start the new job, Tessa may very well have sacrificed the swoon-worthy locks.
With all the reluctance of a toddler heading off to sleep for the night, Tessa grabbed the brown Burberry knockoff bag from the seat next to her, clutched it tightly to her chest, and zoomed out of the car. She raced for the building, thankful for all the years spent in dance class as she deftly avoided the broken pieces of concrete and burst into the business’ lobby. The heavy door slammed behind her as Tessa stood there taking it in, dripping rainwater into a pool beneath her on the floor.
“You know, most civilized people would use an umbrella.”
The sharp voice, oozing with self-righteousness, seemed to physically attack Tessa’s ears. She had to fight the urge to run away—she couldn’t escape to her room like she always had as a teen.
Instead, she smiled at the speaker as graciously as she could muster. “Actually, I find the rain refreshing. And a little water never made anyone melt, Mom.”
Cheryl Randolph stood leaning on the doorjamb of her office, her arms crossed. She’d provided the genetics for Tessa’s dark hair but kept hers in a sassy inverted bob with frosted tips. She regarded her daughter through red cat-eye glasses. Her glittering blue eyes, also the same color as Tessa’s, showed no indication she was going to take it easy on her daughter. Quite the opposite.
She pursed her lips, covered with a shade of lipstick that matched her eyewear exactly, and then smirked. “You’re a reaper, not a witch. So, you’re right. Rain won’t melt you. But it will ruin your makeup.”
Tessa rolled her eyes. “Good thing I didn’t wear makeup today.”
“Or ever,” her mother retorted smartly.
Tessa frowned, looking down at her feet. Her mother was the queen of the one-up. They could stand there all day trading jabs, but she knew her mom would always get in the last punch. And Cheryl was right. Contrary to what she’d said, Tessa absolutely hated rain and chilly weather. Her idea of heaven involved flip-flops, a beach chair, and a margarita.
Maybe she should have
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