Hannah Grace

A NOVEL BY

.S HARLE NE

MAcLAflFN

he minute hand on the nickel-cased Waterbury clock ticked away the seconds as Hannah Grace Kane primped in the mirror. She leaned back and squinted with displeasure when her unruly, rusty-colored curls refused to cooperate, poking out all over like a bunch of broken bedsprings. "Aargh!" she muttered, throwing down her comb and watching it bounce off the wood floor with a ping before landing on the braided wool rug.