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Fiona Fleming Cozy Mysteries

I’m an international, multiple award-winning author with a passion for the voices in my head. As a singer, songwriter, independent filmmaker and improv teacher and performer, my life has always been about creating and sharing what I create with others. Now that my dream to write for a living is a reality, with over a hundred titles in happy publication and no end in sight, I live in beautiful Prince Edward Island, Canada, with my giant cats, pug overlord and overlady and my Gypsy Vanner gelding, Fynn. A Poo Poo Kind of Morning I tried not to look down the mouth of hell staring back at me from inside the glaringly pristine outer ceramic shell of the white throne, my throat catching, stomach doing half flips and a rather impressive rollover routine that would have gotten at least a 9.5 even from the Russian judges. Instead, I forced myself to smile and swallow and remind myself the elbow length yellow rubber gloves grasping the handle of the standard issue plunger were all that stood between me and Pooageddon. Suck it up, Fee. Big girl panties and adulting and all that. “At what point,” I waved the dripping plunger, wincing as droplets of yuck flew, “did I think owning a bed and breakfast was going to be glamorous and romantic?” Fiona Fleming is in so much trouble. Her recently inherited bed and breakfast might not actually be hers thanks to the underhanded misdealings of the local real estate bully. Despite her grandmother's last will and testament, Fee might me out of luck and on the street before she even gets settled. But when her new enemy floats belly up in her koi pond, she's the prime suspect in his murder! Can she uncover who the real killer is before the smoking hot new sheriff puts her behind bars instead of asking her out on a date? Dive into book one of the Fiona Fleming Cozy Mysteries, and don't miss the exciting sequels!

Patti Larsen · Realistic
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492 Chs

Chapter 204: Not My First Dead Body

Okay, so it's not like this was my first dead body or anything. And I'd had a guy die on top of me, after all, so there was precedence set. Still, there had been tons of people around and while I'd been trapped under Skip Anderson briefly, the fact I was on the ground and rescue was quick to come had at least limited the physical contact to maybe a minute, tops.

Yeah, not so lucky this time, was I? Instead of a quick and easy whoopsie dead man crashing, I hung there, panting and doing my best not to throw up all over his slowly cooling corpse, his bulging eyes staring at me like this was all my fault for at least fifteen years.

Maybe ten minutes. It just felt like half my life. The only glimmer of a silver rim to this particularly uncomfortable and nightmare inducing process was the fact Crew was there with me the whole time, his cool, calm voice never once letting me go.