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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 · 现实
分數不夠
492 Chs

Chapter 182: A Lot Of Thinking To Do

I didn't make it far, stumbling on Bill who lurked, as I'd expected he would, near the elevators when I emerged downstairs. At least he didn't follow me all the way up, but the relief on his face when I stepped out into the noisy lobby made me smile.

I hooked my arm through his as I guided him down the hall toward the staff quarters. "I'm fine, see?"

"Good to know," he said. "Any luck?"

"Not sure." I stopped him beside the exit sign over the doors I'd been pushed through on Valentine's Day, staring at them and trying not to remember the bitter cold and my near death from exposure. "But I could use some insight."

"Anything." He glanced at the doors himself. "Let me guess, you're wondering about ways into and out of the dining room?"

Clever man. "So there's the main ones into the lobby," obviously, "and the side door that leads to this hallway," I pivoted and pointed at the one beside us. "Any others?"