A morning show host must unearth the truth behind the murder of a special forces operative and relay coded messages to the troops before the nukes fly on a very secret military base.
Betty Cratchet sat upon her favorite willow bench in Sunny Glenn market to watch the gremlins scurry up the tower with their wrenches to change the hands for tea time. Betty had boring blue eyes and somewhat dark hair and her father's military jaw. She was not whiskey in a teacup, nor was she bubbly sweet soda, she was more akin to a cup of hot milk or perhaps spiced eggnog on the days she really had her wits about her. In short, she was best had alone, right before bed, in place of any dessert. Long had she accepted her solitary station in life, but that made it no easier to swallow, and it could not make her home any warmer.
Nor would the murder she is about to witness.
Author's Note: Does contain romance, but is not erotica. Think PG-13.