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213 pages, Kindle Edition
First published February 4, 2016

The biggest eyes, graved with thick lashes, set in a face highlighted by chubby cheeks and framed by golden hair pinned in pigtails peeked at me. “My, Mommy. DO you like my drawing?”
Must. Resist. The cuteness.
I held firm. No wavering. “Baby girl, you cannot write on the walls.”
“Why?”
A word I truly had begun to hate. “Because I just had them painted.”
“But they’re boring. I made them pretty.” She blinked her ridiculously thick and natural eyelashes at me to no avail. I had been raised in the pit. Her guileless expression did not fool me.
“The walls are supposed to be boring and marker free.” After the chaos of Hell, and even everyday life, I enjoyed a home with a simple color palette. Loves of whites and grays, as well as soft blues. No reads or browns or that weird in-between umber here.
“Can I draw on the ceiling then? Poppa’s palace has pictures on his.”
Poppa’s palace had many things etched into his ceiling, some of them quite inappropriate for little girl’s eyes—and even adult ones, too.
No one had ever explained that being a grownup meant so much damned work—and paint and Lysol wipes and Tide-to-Go sticks—which is why I decided we needed a vacation.
Thrusting his shoulders back in pride, Lucifer offered a shining white smile as he showed off his latest fashion sensation. “Yes, Do you like it?”
“Only you could hope to carry it off,” I replied. And it was true. Only my father could hope to wear a slicker sporting horned ducks and still project that majestic air that screamed, ‘piss me off and I will roast your toes and eat them with some cheese and crakers’. I was more of a rib kind of girl.