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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 · Realista
Classificações insuficientes
492 Chs

Chapter 231: Ready For More

The two of us dodged more girls with more platters, hurrying past the dining room door. I glanced inside, delighted to see a full house, not unusual for a Saturday morning, with a small group waiting for yet another girl to clear a table for them. Part of me itched to help out, but Daisy guided me to the side board and the computer in the foyer, as if sensing I was about to interfere in her domain. Not that I was a control freak or anything. But she and Mom both had to rather firmly guide me away from trying to do everything and let them handle their parts of the puzzle since they'd signed their contracts in May.

Okay, so I was used to being the numero uno around here. They just had to be patient.

Daisy walked me through the list of pending check outs and check ins, our morning devoured by chatting with guests and working out kinks that she'd caught in our lineup. Leave it to her to save our butts time and again. She really was good at this, better than I'd ever been.