A Sneak-Peak…

Shalom and Howdy, Readers!!!
Danielle here! I am so excited because today, as promised last week, I will be sharing a sneak-peek into The Mystery of the Jade Heart!!! I am just about finished with editing and the like. Then I plan to pitch it to an agent in hopes that it will be accepted. So, please, keep me in your prayers!

Alright, so without further ado… Here is the sneak-peek!

The Mystery of the Jade Heart

An icy apprehension, colder than the morning air, snaked down Esther Heart’s spine. She stopped short outside her shop, The Treasure Chest, her gaze was riveted to the back door of her beloved shop. The fact that it stood open was like a dark slash in the familiar fabric of her day, a visible violation against her shop. Jeremy wouldn’t forget. The thought was immediate and unsettling. Her assistant manager was meticulous, almost irritatingly so, about locking up—double-checking the deadbolt, rattling the knob—especially here.

Emunah Valley wasn’t the kind of place that gave ground for caution; nestled deep in the East Tennessee mountains, its quiet streets and friendly faces felt a world away from real danger. Tourists congregated here simply because nothing ever happened, seeking refuge from their own chaotic lives. But today, the familiar peace of the valley slipped away from Esther, replaced by a knot tightening in her stomach. The sight of that open door felt wrong, a disharmonious note in the morning’s harmony.

Her gaze swept the familiar gravel lot behind The Treasure Chest—only her own blue minivan sat there, reflecting the early sun. Nothing else. Esther drew a slow, deliberate breath, the cool mountain air doing little to calm the flutter in her chest, and pulled her phone from her pocket. They’re gone. Whoever did this is long gone. Still, Isaiah needed to know.

“Sheriff Schneider, speaking,” Isaiah Schneider answered on the second ring.

“Hey, Isaiah, it’s Esther. I want to report a possible break-in at my shop. The back door was standing open when I arrived this morning.”

“Do you know if anything was stolen or damaged?”

“I haven’t been inside yet. Hold on, I can check.” She took a few steps toward the door.

“No! Stay outside. I’m on my way.” Isaiah’s words brought her to a halt.

“Alright, I’ll see you shortly.”

Leaning against the van’s cool metal, her mind raced, tumbling through unwelcome scenarios. Why here? Why my shop? Had she unknowingly angered a customer? Was some dusty antique more valuable than she’d priced it? Or was it simpler—just bored teenagers looking for trouble on a quiet morning?

Stop it. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force the thoughts away. Focus on something else. Anything else. The cheerful melody of a sparrow from the giant oak nearby, the frantic scrabbling of two squirrels squabbling over an acorn, the way the breeze lifted strands of her dark hair, cool against her cheek. Anything but the image of that gaping door and the unsettling questions swirling behind it…

The sharp crack of glass sliced through the relative quiet, sending a jolt of pure adrenaline through her. The sound had erupted from within her shop. Someone is still inside! Her feet were already moving, a frantic rush carrying her forward. Her hand shot out, fingers wrapping around the cool metal of the doorknob.

“Stay outside…”

Isaiah’s voice, a firm anchor in the rising tide of her panic, snagged her. For a moment, she hesitated, the command in direct opposition to the frantic pulse hammering in her ears. But the burning need to know, to see who dared violate her space, was a more potent force.

Ignoring the warning, she eased the door open wider just enough to slip through, a shadow melting into the cluttered darkness of the backroom. The air hung thick with the scent of dust and forgotten treasures. She moved with a desperate kind of grace, navigating the perilous maze of knick-knacks and stacks of cardboard boxes. Each rustle, each tiny shift of an object, amplified in the sudden silence. Who is it?

She edged closer to the showroom door, her breath catching in her throat. Then, a faint whisper, a soft scuff of movement just behind her, froze her hand inches from the latch. Someone was here.

Her throat constricted, and she licked lips suddenly dry as parchment. A tremor ran the length of her spine, a cold wave of fear washing over her. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, she began to turn towards the sound.

Then, a brutal impact. Something hard and unyielding slammed into the back of her skull. A blinding flash of light exploded behind her eyes, a chaotic dance of stars against a black canvas. The world tilted violently, the solid floor rushing up to meet her with unforgiving force. Her vision blurred, a swirling kaleidoscope of indistinct shapes, but through the haze, she registered a fleeting glimpse: a pair of feet pounding away, disappearing into the gloom.

A strangled gasp escaped her lips as she tried to push herself up, her arms heavy and unresponsive. But the darkness was a powerful undertow, a vast, silent ocean pulling her down, down into its fathomless depths. Consciousness slipped away, the cold cement her final anchor before the abyss claimed her entirely.

* * *

A strange sense of displacement and familiarity warred within Micah Schneider as he strolled down Main Street. Four years. Had it really been that long? He paused before the All The World Cafe, the scent of coffee and something frying drifting out. Emunah Valley looked untouched by time, a snapshot preserved in mountain beauty, and a wave of unexpected gratitude engulfed him. Thankfully some things don’t change. He’d changed enough for the both of them. No! Don’t even go there. He’d come to escape the past, to leave it all behind—including the lingering shadows of Atlanta. The past needed to stay right where it belonged, a locked room he refused to unlock.

Then his gaze snagged on The Treasure Chest across the street. Joel Heart had opened that shop a good eleven or twelve years ago now. He remembered the buzz around town when Mr. and Mrs. Heart, after the birth of their twins, had felt a calling to put down roots right here in Emunah Valley, bringing their missionary zeal home. The Treasure Chest. The name itself conjured up images of dusty relics and forgotten stories.

He stared across the road, and for a heartbeat, the present dissolved. It was four years ago. He stood on this very spot, the unspoken goodbye a lead weight in his chest, aimed at the only woman he’d ever truly loved. Leaving without a word had been a tearing away of something vital. But Esther yearned for the world and life of a missionary, the same path her parents had walked. He’d been a small-town officer then. He couldn’t afford that soaring existence, and the thought of clipping her wings had been unbearable. So he’d turned his back, each mile a fresh tear in the fabric of his heart.

Shaking off the memory, he crossed the road, the midday sun warm on his back, and leaned toward the shop door’s window. Before his eyes could focus, the door flew outward, catching him off balance and sending him sprawling onto the rough sidewalk. He blinked against the sudden pain, looking up just in time to catch the fleeting glimpse of a figure—medium height, moving fast—vanishing down the narrow alley beside the adjacent building. What a welcome home. What in the world was that all about?

Adrenaline mixing with curiosity, Micah pushed himself up and stepped cautiously through the open doorway. A low whistle escaped his lips. The shop looked like it had lost a fight with a tornado—shelves overturned, antiques scattered, fragile items crunched underfoot.

His police senses went on high alert. He was careful not to disturb anything that might whisper of what had happened, he navigated the debris-strewn path towards the storage room. The door resisted his touch, stubbornly refusing to yield. Bracing a hand against the frame, he pressed his weight against it, the wood groaning in protest until a narrow gap appeared, just wide enough for him to squeeze through.

Particles of dust danced in the dim light as his eyes adjusted to the packed storage room. Then, his breath hitched. A woman lay unnaturally still on the floor, a dark, sticky pool spreading beneath her head. He moved without conscious thought, his fingers reaching for the fragile pulse point at her wrist. Yeshua, please let her be alive. The silent plea was a reflex, jarringly unexpected. Prayer had been a forgotten language since Atlanta.

Focus! The frantic thrumming in his own chest yanked him back to the present. A soft exhale escaped his lips as he felt the faint but steady beat beneath his fingertips. Relief warred with a growing dread. He fumbled for his phone, his fingers clumsy as he dialed 9-1-1, his voice tight as he requested an ambulance to come to The Treasure Chest. As he disconnected, the rising wail of sirens sliced through the quiet of the morning, growing louder until they shrieked to a halt just outside the shop.

He knelt back beside her, his hand hovering for a moment before gently brushing her hair from her face. His breath caught, this time not from fear, but from a shock that resonated deep within him. This wasn’t just any young woman. This was the woman he’d run from, the memory that had haunted his every mile away. This was Esther Heart.

Please watch for future updates for The Mystery of the Jade Heart!

Thanks for reading! Until next time!

Many Blessings,Danielle