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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
Not enough ratings
492 Chs

Chapter 295: Screwing Up

I paced the foyer, Petunia padding next to me, my constant companion. But her soft counterpoint to my own pacing was comforting, despite the fact I still trembled just a little at the memory of the gunshot, being thrown to the ground, and subsequently hustling back to the retreat proper with the knowledge a gunman or woman prowled the woods.

Jill wasted no time when Eddie appeared, confiscating his weapon and locking up every other gun she could locate, Bill assisting. Part of me wanted to ask her why she hadn't done so in the first place, but the furious way she stomped around the lodge told me she was already furious with herself for her oversight and didn't need me giving her a hard time over such a rookie mistake.

Mind you, I hadn't thought about it, either, not that I was actually in law enforcement, so poking at Jill wasn't entirely fair.