About the book...
Career chameleon,
Rylie Keyes, must keep her current job. If not, the tax assessor will evict her
ailing grandfather and auction off their ancestral home. When a senior she
shuttles for a Bellevue, Washington retirement home winds up dead in her
minibus, sticky with a half-eaten s'more, head clad in a cellophane bag, and a
pocketed complaint letter accusing her of driving by Braille, her goal to keep
her job hits a road bump.
The deceased was
thought to be a penniless Nazi concentration camp survivor with a silly grudge
against Rylie. However, the victim has enemies who will stop at nothing to keep
their part in the murder a secret.
Forced to dust
off the PI training she's kept hidden from her ex-detective grandfather, Rylie
must align with a circus-bike-wheeling Samoan to solve the murder, all while
juggling the attentions of two very hot police officers.
And here's an excerpt..
~When the chips
are down, the buffalo is empty~
Am I a flake? Sort of. But I’m trying to change. My
grandfather has property tax issues, and what troubles Granddad, troubles me.
Good thing I’ve held down a steady job for months. A major big deal. Not the
getting a job part—I’ve had lots—but the held down aspect. Somehow, I always
end up unemployed, but not today.
Today, I am Rylie Tabitha Keyes, chauffeur to the
seniors at Fountain of Youth Retirement Home (FoY.)
It was dawn Sunday as I eased my employer’s van from
one freeway onto another. After that, I concentrated on the wet asphalt up
ahead. I didn’t want to think about my job history or our financial woes.
Instead I focused on the summery sunrise over the Cascade Mountains due east. I
stared at it a moment, charmed by its contrast to the more typical Bellevue,
Washington gloom brooding overhead.
I should’ve been asleep, but I needed to toss trash
from a fundraiser rolling around in the back of the van. Leland Rosenberg, my
boss at Fountain of Youth Retirement Home, had asked me to dump the bags at his
second business, Rosenberg Laboratory, as FoY’s Dumpsters were full from a
recent bathroom remodel. His mood had been edgy, kind of insistent I dispose of
them last night. I confess, before I could carry out this task, a minor traffic
accident and an all-important overnight obligation had waylaid me. I didn’t
bother to sigh over how blunders always seemed to pepper my work performance.
Some things were fated to be. After all, I slogged at my job for money not joy.
It isn't that I don't like working at FoY, it just isn’t my dream gig. You see,
I yearned to be a private detective, a Veronica Mars 2.0. Problem is, my
grandfather is against the idea. Dead set
against it.
So with the stench from the trash bags mounting, I
steered FoY’s van onto the off-ramp and headed toward Rosenberg Laboratory just
off the freeway exit. My mind was filled with thoughts of a steamy shower,
maybe a few hours of shut-eye before punching the clock at nine. I stared
forward, squinted. And iced over. Up ahead. Wrong-way traveling. A panel truck
advanced, peeling rubber.
Faster.
Closer.
Zeroed in to hit me.
I whipped the van off the road, the red, white, and
blue panel truck whizzing past. I slammed on the brakes, fighting to control
the wheel. I wrestled with it, panicked, my mind flashing on one fortunate thing:
no seniors were in the van.
Tons of hazards burst before my eyes. I struggled to
absorb them. A mangled guardrail zigzagged up ahead; its many gaps from other
out-of-control vehicles big as life. Worse was the wall of giant Douglas-firs
growing beyond, lower trunks scarred, limbs low and swaying.
I was going to careen through the railing.
I was going to hit the trees.
I was going to die.
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About the Author...
Marianne Harden
loves a good laugh. So much so, she cannot stop humor from spilling into her
books. Over the years she has backpacked through the wilds of Australia,
explored the exotics of Asia, soaked up the sun in the Caribbean, and delighted
in the historic riches of Europe. Her goals in life are simple: do more good
than harm and someday master the do-not-mess-with-me look. She divides her time
between Switzerland and Washington State where she lives with her husband and
two children.
Thanks so much for helping to spread the word about Malicious Mischief, Johana. I appreciate it so much.
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