Amy Maxwell's 6th Sense
Page 23
My eyes widen and I stare at her. “Are you kidding? Something is wrong! I just knew if we went on this vacation, something would go wrong and now it has! Damn sixth sense of mine! Why don’t I ever listen?”
“Oh, please,” Joey says, waving her hand in front of her face. “You certainly enjoyed that vacation.”
Believe it or not, she’s telling the truth. After our vow renewal ceremony, my parents took the kids for the rest of the vacation to their room. They had a suite. The suite we were supposed to get. But that didn’t matter because Roger and I had peace and quiet for the next two days. I slept for almost forty hours straight. It was bliss.
We were unceremoniously woken up on our third day of our slumber-moon by the FBI who needed to interview us about the passport thieves. Turns out their names weren’t Mario, Jerry, and Danny like I thought. They were Frank, Hank, and Arthur. Yeah, the short guy’s name was Arthur. I liked my names better.
Roger and I even made the front page of USA Today. The story was mostly about the identity theft ring, but there was a short little section about the heroine mom whose snooping saved further children from having their identity stolen. At the bottom of the article a link to my blog appeared and I’ve been getting thousands of hits ever since. In fact, just yesterday I got a call from an agent who wants to represent me! She thinks my adventures have potential for a TV series. It’ll be a ton of work and I’ll believe it when I see it, but damn…I have to admit, I’m incredibly excited at the prospect of this change.
That thought reminds me of the other change that I’m surely in for. I moan and drop my head into my hands.
Joey tilts her head and examines me like I’m a potted plant she discovered is dead and can’t figure out why, despite the fact that she never watered it. Actually, that makes me even more upset, and I start to cry.
“There’s no use crying over spilt milk,” Joey tells me, suddenly the voice of reason. “Or in this case, fertilized eggs.” She holds up the stick. It has two lines.
Heather Balog is a school nurse by day, supermom and writer by night. She lives in New Jersey with her husband, children, two very needy dogs, and one ancient cat. When she is not writing, she’s thinking about writing, reading, or tending to the needs one of the aforementioned people or pets. Or beating her husband and children at Trivia Crack…
Other novels by Heather Balog:
The 8 Mistakes of Amy Maxwell
Amy Maxwell & the 7 Deadly Sins
The Dead of Summer
All She Ever Wanted
Letters to My Sister’s Shrink
Note to Self: Change the Locks
Falling When the Bough Breaks
Connecting with Heather Balog:
Heather blogs at:
www.thebadmommydiaries.com
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