Welcome to my blog. Today I’m participating in a blog hop
hosted by my publisher.
My first book, DEATH BY HIGH HEELS, is what happens when you
combine a sweet romance with just the right amount of cozy mystery.
Blurb:
Spending time with a dead guy, being interrogated by the cops and getting stitched up by a cute ER doc wasn’t exactly the evening plans private investigator Kimberly Murphy envisioned. Especially the getting caught standing over a dead body, again, part. Only this time it wasn’t her fault. Just once she’d like it if homicide detective Grant Tompkins didn’t assume she was guilty.
To clear her slightly tarnished name, Kim goes after the clever killer while avoiding a certain hot homicide detective determined to put her in handcuffs – and not the pink, fuzzy kind – not that she’d mind. Too bad Kim’s efforts lead to dead ends and even more dead bodies. Kim will need all her skills and a bit of luck to outwit a killer who’d like to put an end to Kim’s meddling permanently.
To clear her slightly tarnished name, Kim goes after the clever killer while avoiding a certain hot homicide detective determined to put her in handcuffs – and not the pink, fuzzy kind – not that she’d mind. Too bad Kim’s efforts lead to dead ends and even more dead bodies. Kim will need all her skills and a bit of luck to outwit a killer who’d like to put an end to Kim’s meddling permanently.
Excerpt:
Sunday evening
Cops hate it when you vomit all over their crime scene—a mistake I had no desire to repeat. Then again, the fact I’d just trampled all over this scene was probably a whole new mistake I should have avoided. I stared at the corpse and fought the urge to hurl. If only I hadn’t answered the door, I’d be eating dinner instead of standing in my neighbor’s apartment looking at a dead guy.
Said dead guy was just sitting there in the chair. You would think he was asleep—if not for all the blood and guts spilled onto his lap. I tore my eyes from him and asked the question I most wanted the answer to.
“What the heck did you hit him with?”
Lindsay dropped the strand of blonde hair she’d been twirling and glanced down at the floor. “My shoe.”
“Huh?”
“I’ve already told you. Twice. I hit him with my shoe.”
“Damn it, Lindsay, you can’t kill someone with a shoe!”
“Hello, they’re Via Spiga.”
“Ugh.” I glared. There was no way in hell she had done this kind of damage with a shoe. If she had, women would soon be saying goodbye to their much-beloved accessory. Men--even NRA members—would insist on an instant ban of the deadly yet sexy weapon.
I set my hands on my hips. “Any idea how he got this giant hole in his stomach?”
“What? No, I hit him and ran.” Lindsay’s face paled and she leaned against the doorframe.
“Come here and see if you recognize him.”
“Gross, no way. Besides you’re the detective you figure out who he is.”
Technically, I was a private investigator, a fact that had continually escaped my neighbor.
“Get over here!” I turned toward her and spotted Lakeview, Ohio’s oldest beat cop standing behind her, his gun drawn. It would have been scary if only he didn’t look like Santa Claus dressed as a cop for Halloween. With the beginnings of a snow white beard and a pot belly in the making.
“Ah hell,” I muttered. “Hey Duncan.”
“Kim Murphy. Oh man, the Chief’s gonna be pissed,” Officer Duncan said.
“We don’t really have to tell him, do we?”
“You don’t think he’s gonna find out his daughter got herself mixed up with another dead guy? You didn’t kill this one too did you? Wait, don’t answer that.”
“I didn’t kill him. Jeez.”
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Book Trailer:
