First Known Use: 1620]
Antony’s hands shook, making it hard to read the words printed on the newspaper. He threw it down, grinding his teeth. A talentless hack! First graders could write better than he! Who did this critic think she was? Who gave her the right to lambaste him?
Snarling like a dog, Antony paced the room. His writing cabin was nestled in the woods, miles from people and distractions. The only contact he had was the newspaper, delivered by his brother.
And a perfect place to hide a body.
Antony grinned. He knew what to do. He was a writer after all.