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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 43: Conflict

There was an actual line at the counter and I found myself lingering at the far end of the glass top desk, considering running up to my room to save myself the wait. Except I'd find it very hard not to bring my phone back down with me and then I'd be on social media all night instead of enjoying my very special Valentine's Day dinner with my mother and father of all people.

Thank goodness Daisy's arrival stopped me because I didn't need Olivia glaring at me all night. My best friend-from high school and now all over again since my return to Reading- swept out of the elevator like an excited teenager, firmly grasping the hand of a tall, stunningly gorgeous man of northern European descent, his ice blonde hair as natural as Vivian's was fake, glossy as her ivory patent leather clutch, eyes shocking blue when they met mine while he smiled in a way that gave me shivers all the way through to the depths of my lady parts.