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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 · Hiện thực
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492 Chs

Chapter 117: His Brother's Eyes

I stared at the pair of them, Willow ever so pale, Carter's handsome face as kind and worried as I'd ever seen it. And those eyes, those beautiful dark eyes of his.

"Your brother had your eyes," I said. Maybe a silly thing to blurt out while he held his former employer at needlepoint and what had to be a lethal dose of Quexol in the barrel.

"I guess he did," he said. "But Jay was a hundred times the man I ever was." His face crumpled, moisture forming in his lashes. "I was a waste of space from day one, never made anything of myself. Got into drugs and petty crime while he set his heart on football. And he

made it, Fee." That smile. I'd fallen for the curve of it, the gentleness behind it. How had I misread him so badly? "He was making something of himself."

"Carter." Willow choked out his name. "I'm so sorry about your brother."