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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 · Real
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492 Chs

Chapter 371: Step-Dad

It was pretty much that exact moment Hudson noticed me, likely because Petunia huffed a small protest that they had, as yet, to pay any attention to her. At least, that was my assumption. For all I knew the silly pug felt their conflicting emotions and wanted to put an end to it. She was pretty sensitive these days, especially since Robert had almost drowned her last August, his presence always making her uncomfortable.

Whatever the reason for her vocal welcome, the pair turned, spotted me, and fell instantly silent, enough guilt on their faces I didn't have to work very hard to get them to talk.

I rose slowly from the loveseat and joined them, arms crossing over my chest while Tori squirmed in obvious discomfort, her step-father looking about to bolt. Hmmm. Tori didn't seem to be wearing her signature scent. Because her bottle was gone? Dumped on Jack for some reason? Maybe she'd decided to mark her territory that night.