Skip to main content

Excerpt - Sabotage by Kit Wilkinson

Kit Wilkinson

Olympic hopeful Emilie Gill is beautiful, rich, successful—and in danger. Someone's targeting her stable, her friends, her life…and there's nowhere for her to turn. The police? They've charged her with murder. Her father? Out of town—again. Her best friend? He's the man she's accused of killing. There's no one to count on—until Derrick Randall rides into her life. The stable manager's support encourages Emilie to open her carefully guarded heart. But just as she's learning to trust, it all comes apart. Her faith—and newfound love—are all she'll have when the sabotage turns deadly once more….

Excerpt of chapter one:

Emilie Gill struggled to concentrate, but keeping her mind on riding and off of Camillo had proven impossible. Even with a renowned trainer evaluating her performance, she couldn't focus. And his disapproval might cost her a spot on the Olympic team. Still, it couldn't be helped. Something had happened to her groom. Something bad. She could sense it in her bones.

Emilie tried to shake away the distressing thoughts. Clenching the double reins, she sunk her weight into the heels of her tall black boots and coaxed the young mare onward to begin the course of fences.

The approach. Her braid struck down between her shoulders, marking the number of strides to the fence. One…Two… Three…

Takeoff. Together they soared over the four-foot spread of boxwoods and rails. Her hands and torso moved above the horse's arched neck.

Landing. Her weight shifted back to her seat and heels, and beneath, the bay-colored mare gripped the earth.

Emilie turned to the next jump. Eyes up. Always up. Always ahead.

Continuing through the course with the same precision, she and Chelsea completed ten jumps with no faults—but her performance was lackluster. No doubt Mr. Winslow had noticed as well. She shot a furtive glance at the world-renowned trainer sitting nearby in the open stands, his expression indifferent. Emilie swallowed hard then scanned the arena for Camillo. A four-year-old habit was hard to break. She slumped in the saddle and sighed. When would she get it into her thick skull that her once faithful groom, also her best friend, had left? Without any warning. Well, that wasn't exactly true. Camillo had acted a bit strangely over the last few weeks. But when Emilie had asked him what was on his mind, he had said he was just tired. So, she had let it go. And now he'd left with no explanation. Gone.

A light rain began to trickle down. Cold November air whipped through the hilltop space, chafing her exposed cheeks. She steered the mare across the wide arena, hurrying toward the stable.

"Miss Gill, where are you off to?" The severe British accent echoed over the grassy arena. "You cannot retire on that performance. It's simply unacceptable."

Emilie pulled on the reins, trying to erase her frown. Chelsea turned toward the covered portion of the stands where Mr. Winslow had relocated to avoid the drizzle. The older gentleman sat down, lips pursed, with his Burberry raincoat buttoned to the neck and his iPhone pressed to one ear. As she approached, he lowered the phone to his lap and leaned over the edge of the railing.

"Miss Gill, despite your size, your equitation skills are utterly lacking in finesse. I'm sorry to be so blunt, but I'm not a man to mince words. I'd like to see you take this lovely mare 'round again. But with big releases and less cattle driving between the fences. Mr. Randall is lowering the rails for you." He turned away, putting the phone back to his ear.

Emilie lifted her head high and stared at nothing for a long moment, blinking her eyelids against the increasing rainfall.

Mr. Randall?

A deep frown gripped her mouth. Searching the grass ring, her eyes narrowed on a man's figure in full rain gear, lowering jumps in the far corner of the arena. Camillo's replacement. A friend of her sister's who she'd hired over the phone the day before. He'd been scheduled to start that morning. But hadn't bothered to show. Emilie had all but given up on him.

"Did you hear me, Miss Gill? Big releases," the trainer repeated.

She turned back to Mr. Winslow. "Uh. Yes, sir. I was just concerned about pacing."

"Your speed is adequate."

Emilie slumped further into the saddle. His sharp tone crushed her hopes of his ever intending to work with her. Why had he even bothered asking her to ride the course again? What was the point? If only Camillo had been there, he would have known what to say to make her feel right again. Instead, everything was wrong. Everything seemed hopeless.

Emilie pressed her lips together and gathered her wits before heading toward the new hire. And before she did something embarrassing, like cry, in front of Mr. Winslow.

Derrick Randall rushed from one jump to the next, keeping his hood low to fight the cold drizzle. The rider trotted toward him.

"Mr. Randall?" She slowed the horse and walked a tight circle around the fence he was lowering.

Mr. Randall? Derrick lifted an eyebrow as he placed the last rail in the cups.

"It's just Derrick." He stepped toward her and lifted a hand. "Sorry I'm late. Traffic accident."

"You had an accident?" She halted the mare, but made no eye contact, nor did she take his hand. Her pale face was tight. Her jaw clenched. But even angry or anxious or whatever her foul mood, Derrick choked on his breath as he looked at her.

Emilie Gill was one beautiful woman—stunning, actually. She had luminous green eyes, creamy white skin and hair that fell in a long, golden braid. Undone, it might have reached her waist. Her lips were soft and peach-colored under a small, perky nose. Everything arranged for the complete benefit of the viewer.

"I—uh—I wasn't in an accident. Just stuck behind one." Derrick took a deep breath and disregarded her unfriendly greeting. He could hardly blame her for being miffed about his tardiness. His outstretched hand moved to the neck of the gorgeous mare. Her wet coat felt warm against his palm. "She's beautiful. A Warmblood, right? You can always tell breeds by the head and feet."

Emilie's face softened. Finally, she looked down at him. "Yes. She's my latest acquisition. Just arrived from Ireland. They call her Chelsea's Danger."

"Very powerful and yet elegant." Derrick smiled. "And Peter, he's the best. I didn't know you trained with him."

"You know Mr. Winslow?" Astonishment filled her voice.

"Just my whole life." He laughed. "He and my uncle are close friends."

She glanced at Peter in the stands and then looked back, like she couldn't believe the old man had a friend. "Well, he's not my trainer. Not yet, that is."

She turned away in a whirl. Derrick liked the color her strange frustration had added to those creamy cheeks. He hoped she'd get over her anger or anxiety and decide to keep him on. He needed the money if he ever hoped to finish veterinary school. And he wouldn't mind seeing what Miss Emilie Gill looked like when she wasn't scowling.

He made his way back to Peter, looking up at the cloudy sky.

Lord, this is all in Your hands…

* * *

Guilt nipped at Emilie for not shaking the man's hand. But that gesture would have meant she'd accepted him as her employee and she wasn't sure she wanted to do that. Not even if he was a friend of Mr. Winslow and of her sister. He didn't look anything like a groom. For one, he was huge—more like a football player than a horseman.

And it just seemed wrong, giving Camillo's job to a stranger.

Camillo. Where are you?

Again, this nagging idea that he was in trouble and needed her help overwhelmed her. Only something terribly important would have made him leave without talking to her first. Or something just plain terrible… Why did she have the feeling it was the latter?

Taking a deep breath, she expelled the anxious thoughts and filled her mind with fences and rhythm. She gave Chelsea a quick tap with her heel. Over the course, she executed the big rein releases Mr. Winslow had suggested. They felt awkward. And little by little, doubtful thoughts clouded her focus again. Over the final two jumps, old habits took over. She tightened her stance and Chelsea knocked rails on both fences. Emilie grimaced as the wooden bars thudded to the earth.

Ready to face her criticism and dismissal, she slowed Chelsea and turned toward the covered stand. Mr. Winslow, however, appeared engrossed in conversation with the new hire. Had the trainer not even been watching?

At that moment, Emilie realized she didn't care. Until she heard from Camillo and knew he was safe, she might as well face the fact that she wouldn't be able to concentrate or compete.

As she approached the stands, Mr. Randall jumped to his feet. He took the reins over Chelsea's head with one hand and with the other helped her down from the saddle. Before she could protest, her feet hit the ground and he'd tossed his jacket over the saddle, protecting it from the rain.

"Nice to see you, Peter," Derrick called over his shoulder as he jogged Chelsea back to the barn.

Emilie stepped under the covering. "You were right. Bigger releases. Thank you for coming." Expecting Mr. Winslow to leave, she held out her hand.

"Humph." The trainer waved her arm away. "I'm not quite decided. I want to observe you again and see how you respond to more adjustments. How about I return on Tuesday? Have the Warmblood and the stallion ready." He stood and placed a crumpled hat on his shock of white hair. "Good day, Miss Gill."

Emilie stood openmouthed as the old man left the stands and tromped the short distance to his Range Rover. What was that? Was he still considering her? Her heart pounded against her chest and she struggled to conceal the smile that wanted to win over her mouth. Forgetting the rain, she moved out from the covered stand and headed toward the barn.

"And Randall is a fine choice," Mr. Winslow shouted from the open window of his SUV.

Emilie landed her foot in a puddle.

"You'll have a hard time finding anyone else with his experience," he added. "I certainly hope you will keep him on."

Emilie searched the old man's face. Wasn't that her decision? Cold water seeped through to her toes before she nodded in agreement.

"Until Tuesday." He rolled up his window then sped down the gravel drive.

Emilie shivered, hugging her shoulders as she ran the last few yards to the stable.

"Mr. Randall?" His name echoed through the barn, creating unnatural reverberations that chilled her head to toe. Goose bumps prickled her skin as she removed her helmet and wrung out her wet braid. The brief joy from Mr. Winslow's approval had already gone, replaced with the same dread that had haunted her since finding Camillo's note.

She grabbed a thick wool blanket from the top of a tack trunk, draped it over her shoulders then crossed the spacious foyer to check the thermostat.

"Wow, you are one tiny rider." A deep baritone sounded from behind.

Emilie muffled a squeal, dropping one end of the blanket.

"Did I startle you?" Derrick's accent, maybe Tennessee, seemed heavier than it had over the phone. "Sorry about that."

Emilie shook her head but remained facing the wall as she adjusted the temperature a few degrees. Heat crept up her spine as she could feel Derrick's eyes on her back. She turned. "I'm just a little jumpy today…."

The rest of the sentence escaped her. Her eyes grew large. The man stood in the center of the main aisle holding the most skittish horse in the barn by nothing but a handful of mane.

He stroked the horse's lean neck and smiled wide. "Poor guy was just walkin' up and down the aisle. Seemed lost."

Emilie's mouth fell half-open. Not only did Derrick hold Redman with so little effort, but the man had also shed his rain gear. His large T-shirt and loose-fit jeans stretched across walls of hard muscle. She sucked in a quick breath and forced her eyes up. His wide-set steely eyes, golden skin and thick waves of dark hair sticking out recklessly in every direction weren't any less appealing.

Emilie blinked and shifted her gaze to the gelding beside him. "That's Redman. He's a rescue and he's usually a bit…flighty." The one time she'd ventured to touch him, the scared animal had tried to bite her.

"Well, who can blame him? Look at this place. It's like a country club in here." He pointed to the dark stained cedar that crowned the open foyer with its cathedral ceiling and faux antler chandelier. Then he gave the chestnut a hearty pat on the shoulder. "Yep, Redman, I know how you feel."

Emilie put the blanket down and pulled at the neck of her damp sweater. "That horse belongs in Stall K and apparently he needs a snap clip on his door. Put him away, Mr. Randall. We need to—"

"I'd really like it if you could call me something besides Mr. Randall," he interrupted. "Makes me think my dad is here."

She lifted an eyebrow.

"So, just call me Derrick. Okay?" His smile grew wider.

"Okay. Derrick," she said with some reluctance.

A dimple formed on his left cheek. He turned Redman toward the north stalls and strutted away. "Be right back," he called over his shoulder.


He and the horse moved off as silently as they'd come. Emilie reminded herself to breath again. Could she really work with this guy? Did he ever stop smiling? Ugh. It wouldn't be anything like working with Camillo. But she did need help. The fact that Redman was roaming the aisles was proof of that. And Mr. Winslow liked him.

When Derrick returned, Emilie looked quickly away toward the back of the stable. "It's time to turn the horses out," she said. "But I'll show you the old barn first. If you take the job, it's where your office and tack space will be. There's a restroom, telephone and refrigerator there for your private use."

She led the way to the far end of the facility. Derrick followed close behind. She wondered if he could sense her nervousness and the strange unease that hung in the air of the stable. She scratched her neck then clasped her hands behind her back to keep them still. Or was it he that made her nervous? She glanced over her shoulder. What if he didn't even want the job? She stopped and faced him.

"Mr. Ran—Derrick…I don't really know you, but Mr. Win-slow and, of course, my sister seem to think you'd be good here and I trust their judgment. I'm sure you're aware it's not usually this quiet at Cedar Oaks. There are forty-three boarders, over fifty horses, farrier visits, riding students, vet calls and lots of shows. You'd be in charge of it all…until Camillo comes back. In that case, you'd work under him through the jumper season, but he would resume teaching lessons and scheduling. Regardless, the hours are long and you'd have to work every weekend."

Derrick's grin faded slightly. "I need this job."

"And you agree to the pay we discussed?"

He nodded.

"Good then." She shook his hand. It felt strong and warm against hers. "Are you ready to move in?"

"No. I can stay for the rest of the day but I have an appointment with the dean to sign my leave papers in the morning. I can be back tomorrow by late afternoon."

Emilie clenched her teeth. First he's late and now he needs a day off? Why was she agreeing to this? Mr. Winslow, she reminded herself. Mr. Winslow and the Olympics.

"That's fine." She tried to keep the irritation from her voice. "Anyway, I forgot to ask the housekeeper to run through the apartment where you'll be staying. My father wants you near the main house. I hope that's okay? Camillo lived here in the old barn, but he left everything behind and it's a mess."

Derrick grinned again and an unfamiliar warmth spread through Emilie as she finally managed to look into his gray eyes.

"I'd be happy to sleep with Redman if you asked me to," he said. "I've never been in a heated barn before. Don't tell me it's air-conditioned, too?"

Of course it's air-conditioned. Silly man. "You want to sleep with Redman? I can arrange that." She smirked.

His smile stretched so wide the dimple reappeared on his left cheek. "Ah. You do have a sense of humor."

Heat rose to her cheeks. She turned and strode quickly to the old barn, pushing her way through the heavy doors that divided the two structures.

"I guess the stable hand must have closed these." Although she couldn't imagine why. "We usually leave them open."

Emilie stopped after taking two steps into the old barn.

"Is something wrong?" Derrick asked.

"I don't know…Just—those doors should be open, and this door," she pointed to Camillo's tack room door, "it should be closed and locked. In fact, it was locked yesterday. I don't know why…"

Had Camillo come back?

She rushed into the dark room, fumbling for the switch. A putrid odor stung her nostrils and robbed her of oxygen. As light flooded the space, she gasped and stumbled back.

No. Not Camillo.

But there was his body. Stiff and strangely twisted. Clearly dead. Broken boards from old jump standards lay around him. And blood.

Emilie screamed but heard nothing as she went limp down to the floor.

Buy from Barnes and Noble
Buy from
Buy from Amazon
Buy from Books a Million

Click here to get 2 Free Steeple Hill Love Inspired Suspense Books from Harlequin today.

Save 20% off all Love Inspired Suspense Books


Popular Posts

Laura’s Apricot Shell Shawl knitting pattern

I usually have a knitting project in mind when I write it into one of my books, but Laura’s apricot-colored shawl just kind of appeared upon the page as I was writing the first scene of Lady Wynwood’s Spies, volume 4: Betrayer , and it surprised even me. I immediately went to my yarn stash to find a yarn for it, and I searched through my antique knitting books to find some stitch patterns. I made her an elegant wool shawl she could wear at home. The shawl ended up tagging along with Laura into the next book, Lady Wynwood’s Spies, volume 5: Prisoner , where it imparts some comfort to her in her trying circumstances. The two stitch patterns are both from the same book, The Lady’s Assistant, volume 2 by Mrs. Jane Gaugain, published in 1842 . A couple excessively clever and creative knitters might have knit these patterns in the Regency era, but they would have only passed them around by word of mouth or scribbled “recipes” to friends or family, and it wouldn’t have been widely use

Phoebe’s Muffatees knitting pattern

In Lady Wynwood’s Spies, volume 4: Betrayer , Phoebe wears a pair of lace muffatees, or gauntlets/arm-warmers that hide a rather deadly surprise. :) I actually got the idea of having her wear muffatees because I saw a lace manchette pattern in Miss Watts’ Ladies’ Knitting and Netting Book , published in 1840, page 20. However, after doing some research, I found that they were called muffatees in the Regency era, and the term manchette did not arise until a few years later. They were essentially arm-warmers worn under those long sleeves on day dresses, which were usually made of muslin too thin to be very warm. I decided to knit Phoebe’s muffatees using a Leaf Pattern originally suggested for a purse in Mrs. Gaugain’s book, The Lady’s Assistant, volume 1, 5th edition published in 1842, pages 234-237. I think there was an error and row 36 in the original pattern was duplicated erroneously, so I have adjusted the pattern. The original manchette pattern called for “fine” needles a

No Cold Bums toilet seat cover

Captain's Log, Stardate 08.22.2008 I actually wrote out my pattern! I was getting a lot of hits on my infamous toilet seat cover , and I wanted to make a new one with “improvements,” so I paid attention and wrote things down as I made the new one. This was originally based off the Potty Mouth toilet cover , but I altered it to fit over the seat instead of the lid. Yarn: any worsted weight yarn, about 120 yards (this is a really tight number, I used exactly 118 yards. My suggestion is to make sure you have about 130 yards.) I suggest using acrylic yarn because you’re going to be washing this often. Needle: I used US 8, but you can use whatever needle size is recommended by the yarn you’re using. Gauge: Not that important. Mine was 4 sts/1 inch in garter stitch. 6 buttons (I used some leftover shell buttons I had in my stash) tapestry needle Crochet hook (optional) Cover: Using a provisional cast on, cast on 12 stitches. Work in garter st until liner measures

Year of the Dog serial novel, chapter 13

I’m posting a Humorous Christian Romantic Suspense serial novel here on my blog! Year of the Dog is a (second) prequel to my Warubozu Spa Chronicles series. Year of the Dog serial novel by Camy Tang Mari Mutou, a professional dog trainer, is having a bad year. While renovating her new dog kenneling and training facility, she needs to move in with her disapproving family, who have always made her feel inadequate—according to them, a job requiring her to be covered in dog hair and slobber is an embarrassment to the family. She convinces her ex-boyfriend to take her dog for a few months … but discovers that his brother is the irate security expert whose car she accidentally rear-ended a few weeks earlier. Ashwin Keitou has enough problems. His aunt has just shown up on his doorstep, expecting to move in with him, and he can’t say no because he owes her everything—after his mother walked out on them, Auntie Nell took in Ashwin and his brother and raised them in a loving Chri

One-Skein Pyrenees Scarf knitting pattern

I got into using antique patterns when I was making the scarf my hero wears in my Regency romance, The Spinster’s Christmas . I wanted to do another pattern which I think was in use in the Regency period, the Pyrenees Knit Scarf on pages 36-38 of The Lady's Assistant for Executing Useful and Fancy Designs in Knitting, Netting, and Crochet Work, volume 1, by Jane Gaugain, published in 1840. She is thought to be the first person to use knitting abbreviations, at least in a published book, although they are not the same abbreviations used today (our modern abbreviations were standardized by Weldon’s Practical Needlework in 1906). Since the book is out of copyright, you can download a free PDF copy of the book at I found this to be a fascinating look at knitting around the time of Jane Austen’s later years. Although the book was published in 1840, many of the patterns were in use and passed down by word of mouth many years before that, so it’s possible these are


「ひとり寿司」をブログに連載します! ひとり寿司 寿司シリーズの第一作 キャミー・タング 西島美幸 訳 スポーツ狂のレックス・坂井 —— いとこのマリコが数ヶ月後に結婚することにより、「いとこの中で一番年上の独身女性」という内輪の肩書を「勝ち取る」ことについては、あまり気にしていない。コントロールフリークの祖母を無視するのは容易だ —— しかし、祖母は最終通告を出した —— マリコの結婚式までにデート相手を見つけなければ、無慈悲な祖母は、レックスがコーチをしている女子バレーボールチームへの資金供給を切ると言う。 ダグアウトにいる選手全員とデートに出かけるほど絶望的なわけではない。レックスは、バイブルスタディで読んだ「エペソの手紙」をもとに「最高の男性」の条件の厳しいリストを作った。バレーボールではいつも勝つ —— ゲームを有利に進めれば、必ず成功するはずだ。 そのとき兄は、クリスチャンではなく、アスリートでもなく、一見何の魅力もないエイデンを彼女に引き合わせる。 エイデンは、クリスチャンではないという理由で離れていったトリッシュという女の子から受けた痛手から立ち直ろうとしている。そして、レックスが(1)彼に全く興味がないこと、(2)クリスチャンであること、(3)トリッシュのいとこであることを知る。あの狂った家族とまた付き合うのはごめんだ。まして、偽善的なクリスチャンの女の子など、お断り。彼はマゾヒストじゃない。 レックスは時間がなくなってきた。いくら頑張っても、いい人は現れない。それに、どこへ行ってもエイデンに遭遇する。あのリストはどんどん長くなっていくばかり —— 過去に掲載済みのストーリーのリンクはこちらです。 *** 36 誰かと結婚するとしたら、きっと駆け落ちだ。 クスクス笑うマリコのブライズメイドの後をついて、レックスはよろめきながらパゴダブリッジ・レストランに入った。泣きわめくティキの隣で四時間立ちっぱなし——マリコはレックスを列の最後に入れてくれたから、ありがたい——抜歯と同じぐらい喜ばしい経験だった。ノボケインなしで。 (ウェディングそのものは一時間だけ。よかった)リハーサルも終わり、あとはオリバーを見つけ、四時間ぶりに椅子に座って、祖母のおごりで高価なリハーサルディナー(結婚式リハーサ

Year of the Dog serial novel

About Year of the Dog : A month or two ago, I remembered an old manuscript I had completed but which hadn’t sold. It was a contemporary romance meant for Zondervan, titled Year of the Dog . The book had gone into the pipeline and I even got another title ( Bad Dog ) and a cover for it, but eventually my editor at the time decided she didn’t want to publish it, for various reasons. She instead requested a romantic suspense, and so I cannibalized some of the characters from Year of the Dog and thrust them into the next book I wrote, which was Protection for Hire . Honestly, I didn’t take a lot from Year of the Dog to put in Protection for Hire , aside from character names and a few relationship ties. I was originally thinking I’d post Year of the Dog as-is on my blog as a free read, but then it occurred to me that I could revamp it into a romantic suspense and change the setting to Hawaii. It would work out perfectly as (yet another) prequel to the Warubozu series and introduc

Quiz from Lady Wynwood's Spies #6 - question 5

The latest volume in my Christian Regency epic serial novel just released, so I thought I’d post a few of my favorite passages from Lady Wynwood’s Spies, volume 6: Martyr . “There is no need for you to apologize.” A sliver of her normal self seemed to return to her, and she lifted an eyebrow at him. “Yes, well, you should not have interrupted my argument with the tree.” “I could not stand by and watch you bully a defenseless beechwood.” QUIZ: Who is Keriah speaking to, Michael or Mr. Benjamin? EXTRA CREDIT: Why was Keriah apologizing to him? This exchange was an unexpected point of levity in an otherwise pretty heavy scene. It surprised me when I was writing it. Start the series with Lady Wynwood’s Spies, volume 1: Archer ! A Christian Historical Adventure set in Regency England with slow-burn romance and a supernatural twist Part one in an epic-length serial novel She met him again by shooting him. After four seasons and unmarried because she is taller than mos

New contest!

I haven’t had a contest since October! Here’s new one just in time for Christmas. I’m picking 3 winners to each be able to choose 10 books from my Christian book list! And yes, that list includes my books! 1) You get one entry into the contest when you sign up for my email newsletter at . If you already belong to my email newsletter, let me know! 2) You get a second entry into the contest if you Like my Facebook page: . If you already Like my Facebook page, let me know! 3) You get a third entry into the contest if you join my Goodreads group: . If you already belong to my Goodreads group, let me know! 4) You get a fourth entry into the contest if you follow me on Twitter: . If you already follow me on Twitter, let me know! 5) You get extra entries into the contest if you get someone else to join my email newsletter. Just email camy {at] c

Chinese Take-Out and Sushi for One

Captain’s Log, Supplemental My agent sent me an article from Publisher’s Weekly that discussed this incident: Chinese Take-Out Spawns Christian Controversy And here’s also a blog post that talks about it in more detail: The Fighting 44s This is Soong-Chan Rah’s blog: The PCS blog In sum: Apparently Zondervan (yes, my publisher), who has partnered with Youth Specialties, had put out a youth leaders skit that had stereotypical Asian dialogue, which offended many Christian Asian Americans. In response to the outcry, Zondervan/Youth Specialities put out a sincere apology and is not only freezing the remaining stock of the book, but also reprinting it and replacing the copies people have already bought. I am very proud of my publisher for how they have handled this situation. The skit writers have also issued a public apology . (I feel sorry for them, because they were only trying to write a funny skit, not stir up this maelstrom of internet controversy. I’ve been in youth work long enou