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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 416: Two Of A Kind

If there was ever a doubt Crew and I were perfect for each other, it died when the two of us stood there, heads down, ears straining in collective nosiness, to overhear the obviously heated whispered conversation going on at the top of my apartment steps. Shameless, the both of us, and we seemed to realize it at the same instant, though I'm positive he looked far more guilty about it than I ever would.

It was impossible to make out details, but as we both quietly mounted the stairs and headed toward the exit, the faint light from the mostly closed over door cast illumination on both Ian's distraught expression and Thea's sad face. They noticed us at the same moment, Ian wiping at his eyes and turning away, clearly embarrassed, but before he could hurry up and out into the main foyer, Thea engulfed him in a huge hug. He froze, shock in his expression a mix of emotions I could barely register before he tugged free and fled.