Excerpt for Sophie and the Frog by , available in its entirety at Smashwords


Tabitha Ormiston-Smith

Copyright Tabitha Ormiston-Smith 2015

Smashwords edition

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There comes a time in the life of every married woman when she realises she is completely on her own. For Jenny McCallum, this occurred on a Thursday morning, at three minutes past eleven.

“Bloody, bloody hell,” she fumed, slamming the phone into its rest with excessive force, so that it bounced out again, making that smart-alec beeping sound. She slammed open the refrigerator door and threw in the meat and milk at random, knocking over the milk jug, which gushed forth its creamy treasure in silent protest, all over the freshly-mopped floor and, on the way, all over the inside of the fridge, which would now have to be cleaned out, or it would stink. Jenny knew this from bitter experience. It wasn’t the first time she’d knocked over the milk jug. Leave it in the bottle, Greg always said. But the big two-litre containers, once the level got down a bit, were too chancy. The centre of balance shifted too quickly, and instead of delivering a precisely controlled amount of milk into her tea, she’d get a sudden flood, which made it undrinkable. The one-litre cartons, being narrower, were even worse.

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