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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 78: Politics

He did not just call me fat and Fanny in the same sentence. I spun back, good mood turned to snarling anger, and found Deputy Jillian Wagner smiling at me, shaking her head. Once I discovered Jill couldn't stand Robert either, I'd invited her over for coffee and her best advice hit me with that smile.

Do not engage the troll.

Instead, I paused next to her and completely ignored my cousin who glared at us. Jill took a break, her blonde ponytail tucked into the collar of her khaki uniform button up, white t-shirt showing at her collarbone. Nice to know another woman about my height, especially in Reading where everyone seemed to lean toward the petite side. While 5'7" wasn't gigantic, I sometimes felt like I towered over other women, including my elderly employees, Mary and Betty Jones.

Made me feel a bit awkward.

"You staying around for the parade?" Jill's voice always surprised me, sweet and light, and from what I heard she was a hell of a soprano.