Stephanie Jaye Evans
Stephanie Jaye Evans' first novel won the William F. Deeck-Malice Domestic Grant for Unpublished Writers, and was published in June 2012 by Berkley Prime Crime. Faithful Unto Death earned a Library Journal starred review and Debut of the Month; it was a Houston Chronicle Ultimate 2012 Summer Book List pick and an Agatha nominee for Best First Novel. Safe From Harm (March 2013--Berkley Prime Crime) is the second book in the Sugar Land Mystery Series. Kirkus Reviews wrote of it, "As charming and wry as Evans’ bright debut (Faithful Unto Death, 2012), filled with reasons to own dogs, love your children and your wife, and have faith." Evans is at work on a Southern Gothic set in the Houston Heights.
Excerpt from Safe From Harm, published by Berkley Prime Crime (2013):
“The big goose lamp that held a five watt bulb in its expansive belly, the light on, day or night. There were trophies in the bookcase and dried corsages on the bulletin board that held dozens of pictures of the girl with her friends, her family, her guy. A pair of worn-out toe shoes hung from the end of the ballet barre fixed to one wall. Clothes spilled from a dresser drawer. Twin brass beds stood side by side, a homemade quilt draped over a brass rail. It had the alphabet appliquéd on it. For the letter “J” it said “J” is for “Jo” and there was a little girl in a pinafore and a bonnet, carefully stitched in.
She wanted to sleep here tonight. She wanted to take a hot bath with pink bath salts and a bar of soap that would float if it slipped from your wet fingers. She wanted to dry off with a thick white towel, and put on pajamas, cotton ones, laundered thin, with flowers sprinkled over the top. And elastic waist bottoms that came all the way down to her toes.
She wanted to curl up with the quilt on the little brass bed. The mom would bring her a cup of tea, hot and sweet and milky. The mom would read to her. “In the great green room, there was a telephone, and a red balloon, and a picture of—the cow jumping over the moon . . .” The mom would smooth her hair off her face, and kiss her right here, the exact spot the tear had reached. And hear her say her prayers. And tuck her in.
She wanted to lie down on that soft, warm bed, and close her eyes, and go to sleep.
And never wake up.
“The big goose lamp that held a five watt bulb in its expansive belly, the light on, day or night. There were trophies in the bookcase and dried corsages on the bulletin board that held dozens of pictures of the girl with her friends, her family, her guy. A pair of worn-out toe shoes hung from the end of the ballet barre fixed to one wall. Clothes spilled from a dresser drawer. Twin brass beds stood side by side, a homemade quilt draped over a brass rail. It had the alphabet appliquéd on it. For the letter “J” it said “J” is for “Jo” and there was a little girl in a pinafore and a bonnet, carefully stitched in.
She wanted to sleep here tonight. She wanted to take a hot bath with pink bath salts and a bar of soap that would float if it slipped from your wet fingers. She wanted to dry off with a thick white towel, and put on pajamas, cotton ones, laundered thin, with flowers sprinkled over the top. And elastic waist bottoms that came all the way down to her toes.
She wanted to curl up with the quilt on the little brass bed. The mom would bring her a cup of tea, hot and sweet and milky. The mom would read to her. “In the great green room, there was a telephone, and a red balloon, and a picture of—the cow jumping over the moon . . .” The mom would smooth her hair off her face, and kiss her right here, the exact spot the tear had reached. And hear her say her prayers. And tuck her in.
She wanted to lie down on that soft, warm bed, and close her eyes, and go to sleep.
And never wake up.