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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 · realistisch
Zu wenig Bewertungen
492 Chs

Chapter 121: Halloween Party

Ghosts and Goblins and Murder Fiona Fleming Cozy Mysteries #4

Three kids under the age of ten crowded the front of the table with their hopeful expressions and plates held high. I dutifully doled out chunks of Mom's elaborate creation, the cake now a ravaged wasteland of Halloween décor goodness, and grinned as the cuteness patrol in costume all said, "thank you!" at exactly the same moment before bobbing off with their second helping.

So adorable. And I was delighted I didn't have to take them-or their pending sugar high- home with me, thank you very much.

Petunia grumbled at my feet, shifting her weight from one front paw to the other, licking her lips in that smacking way of hers, lines of drool dripping from her muzzle. One thin strand landed on the toe of my pointed witch shoe, gleaming in the industrial lighting of the community center's fluorescents, dark brown eyes bulging more than usual. The rims of white showed so much I worried she might pop a socket.