Showing results by narrator "Joanna Roddy" in All Categories

The former actor and current mayor of Stone Springs, Stephen Montgomery, is on his way to Sunny Cove to campaign for governor. Sammy and Rob are particularly excited about this since one of the main issues Montgomery wants to address is homelessness. They’ve been trying so hard to get funds for a shelter, and this might be just what they need. But when Stephen Montgomery is sabotaged along every step of the campaign trail, Sammy begins to think this is about more than just politics.

Stockings are hung, lights are lit, and the annual Branson Falls holiday tradition of leaving gifts on a neighbor’s doorstep, ringing the doorbell, and running, has begun. When the gifts turn from the usual baked goods to cash and other high value presents, theories about the mystery gift giver range from miracles to magic elves. Kate’s not sure who the secret Santa is, but she has some theories.

Journalist and editor of The Branson Tribune, Kate Saxee, has a lot going on. Her mom is in a war with a neighbor, Kate’s trying to navigate her love life after a memorable Halloween party, and it looks like a serial killer might be on the loose in her small rural community that’s getting bigger by the day. Utah’s population is booming and new houses are being built faster than LDS/Mormon temples.

Sammy is eager to get a homeless shelter established in Sunny Cove, and now that she has the money to do it she knows she can make it a reality. The first step is finding a place to have the shelter, and she thinks she’s found it in the form of a run-down Victorian. Unfortunately, everyone in town seems to believe the house is haunted. Sammy believes in God, not ghosts, but she has to admit that activity at the house just keeps getting weirder and weirder. Sammy’s got to get to the bottom of this if she’s ever going to make this shelter a reality.

Good news? I’m no longer a thief. Bad news? I’m no longer a thief. Some may consider that only good news since I'll no longer run the risk of getting my ass thrown in a grim reaper prison for the rest of my extremely long life. Longevity comes with the phoenix nametag. Except I happen to enjoy the thrill of the hunt that comes with relieving goods from my unsuspecting targets.

I’m in Hell, but some witch I know calls it Arizona. At least Tucson’s an excellent place to hide from the hefty bounty on my head, now that the entire supernatural Community knows I’m the last phoenix. Catching me comes with a set-for-life kind of price tag. I don’t blame the bounty hunters; business is business after all. But I’m beyond pissed at the maniacal mage who outed me and caused this whole mess.