Blurb:
Is it strange to have the
unemployment office on speed dial? Not for twenty-four-year-old college dropout
Rylie Keyes. However, her current job at a small retirement home is worlds more
important than all her past gigs. Fact is, if she loses this job, she’ll fail
to stop the forced sale of her grandfather’s home, a modest lakeside bungalow
that has been in the family for ages. But to keep her job she needs to figure
out the truth behind the death of a senior citizen found murdered in her care.
The victim was thought to be a
penniless man with a silly grudge against Rylie. However, his enemies will do
whatever it takes to keep their part in his murder secret.
Excerpt:
I turned, my doubt about solving this case rising.
I walked into Detective Talon.
I stumbled back, apologizing as he reached out,
steadying me with a gentle hand.
“Thank you,” I said awkwardly, shocked by the
comfort I found in his touch.
There came a lengthening silence as he stared down
at me. His handsome face folded in, brooding, deep into a frown.
I looked at him in bewilderment. “Is something
wrong?”
“It’s the way Lipschitz talks of you. It isn’t
right and proper,” he said. “You do know he was once in love with you. And
dammit, he quite possibly still is.”
Such concern, he must have written the Bintliff
note. “There was never anything between us—why dammit?”
“A detective on a power trip, a vulnerable
suspect, and an axe to grind—never ye mind, I suspect it’s better if I say no
more,” he said, his voice steady but worried.
His assertion intrigued me on many levels. Though
loosely exercised, it was a breach of the age-old police code of silence. Even
when guilty of wrongdoing, cops don’t talk bad about other cops.
“I never encouraged Lipschitz,” I said. “He was
too busy calling me bastard baby to
realize that at the time. You should know something else. I had nothing to do
with Otto’s death.”
“No mind, I already knew you weren’t involved,” he
said. “Though it makes no sense to me, you trying to persuade your grandfather
by solving Otto’s murder.”
I raised my brows, figuring he had learned this
from Leland. “I need his blessing.”
“Answer me this: does the grape ask the yeast what
type of wine it should be?”
Puzzled by this man, by how he talked in riddles,
I stepped back, clumsily turning on an ankle. He didn’t steady me this time,
didn’t touch me. It shamed me how much I had wanted him to. “I find you so
confusing,” I said self-conscious, a bit shy.
“I cannae fault you for that. I’m up to my neck in
confusion. There is no rhyme or reason in why I’m willing to break a dozen
department rules to discuss this case with you.”
“Don’t risk your career for me,” I said too
hastily, too coolly, as one does when skeptical, for police officers carried
another burden, the binding pressure of their code of conduct.
He picked up on my doubt and gave me a half-amused
smile. “My career will survive, though my ego may not be as blessed.”
I forced myself to say, “Ego complicates things.”
“Aye, while laughing last and loudest. Petulant
thing, ego.”
He continued to look at me with his dramatic eyes.
I saw the soulfulness in them and thought back to his anger over Lipschitz’s
contempt for me. I wondered why it bothered him, why he felt the need to write
the anonymous Bintliff note. Surely, he had more to worry about than me. He was
a man of contrasts; I could see that now. The dangerous detective with a
discerning stare, concerned stranger abhorring the ways of a hateful partner. I
smiled, oddly becoming more at ease with him. But there was something baffling,
even staggering about the suddenness of this change. I was entering dangerous
grounds, I knew I was, but still I said, “Maybe yours just got out of bed on the
wrong side.”
“Innuendo?”
“No,” I said, but it had been, and I turned cold
all over at my boldness. I was acting harebrained. It had to stop. “Talon, why
are you doing this? I’m more often the friend than lover.”
Over the last
several weeks, I’ve written a great deal about the murder mystery in Malicious
Mischief and about the road to love that Rylie Keyes finds tricky to navigate,
but I’ve not mentioned the underlying secrecy of Rylie’s birth and how this
baffling mystery shapes and concerns several players in this book. With your
permission, I’d like to remedy this. ~Marianne Harden
“Kid, you’ve got all the makings of a real
softy.”
Rylie Keyes, Malicious
Mischief’s budding sleuth, is a freckled-faced young woman who wears a smile to
hide a wee bit of a frown. I wish I could tell you that Rylie had an idyllic
childhood, for she so deserves it. But no childhood can be perfect when soon
after your birth your mother runs off and your father is unknown.
Rylie, of course, has
come to terms with this abandonment over the past twenty-four years but still she
wants answers. I will oblige her—slowly—over the course of the Rylie Keyes romantic
mystery series. I wonder what she’ll do when she finally discovers the truth. I
don’t like to think about it, really. I might make it sudden so she is stunned
and a little frightened. I can only imagine her expression. Someone ought to
draw a sketch of such a face. I’ll make
sure her beloved Granddad is in the room, and near enough to hear her stifled gasp.
Certainly, I’ll have to mull over what object has stifled that gasp, her hand, a
cloth in the hand of another, or something worse—perhaps. But there’s time;
there’s no need to rush.
Rylie’s Samoan sidekick
Solosolo Namulau’ulu will also be in the room when the truth is revealed, and quietly
handsome Zach O’Neil too will be nearby, but Detective Thad Talon won’t be present.
Naturally, this will be against his will. Someone is out to harm him, wants to
keep him away. I don’t wonder what Talon is thinking, or what he’s going to do.
The drop-dead gorgeous have natural tools, especially when accompanied by a charming
Scottish accent. And Rylie’s reaction to
his absence is also not a mystery to me, and it won’t be to you either, once
you meet and fall for her as I have done.
So it won’t come as a
complete surprise, I’ll tell you a few things about her. Rylie Keyes is sweet,
she’s patient, but most of all, she’s pretty darn funny. Solo, too. It’s as
though the ones who have the hardest time fitting in discover that humor is the
best means to cope with their troubles—most of the time, that is. Some things
are just too serious for fun. Still, such wild adventures these two will have,
crackling with laughter, while a crisis of the heart will come as well and, of
course, there will be many of those along the way. So it is my greatest hope
that you’ll enjoy Malicious Mischief, 1st in the Rylie Keyes
romantic mystery series as much as I enjoyed writing it. Happy reading. ~Marianne
Harden
Buy Links:
Book Trailer:
About the Author:
I love making people laugh. True, I should probably spend time on an analyst’s couch, but I’d rather spill
loads of fun into my books. I’m rarely at a loss for words, which is wicked cool for a writer. And it would be poppycock to say I didn’t laze away my wonder years dreaming of far-off places.
Over the years, I’ve traversed the insanely fun back roads of Australia and New Zealand, trekked the wildly exotic landscapes of Asia and Africa, soaked up the blistering Caribbean sun, survived bitter Arctic cold to witness the Northern Lights, and lost a wee bit of my heart to the awesomeness of Europe.
My goals in life are simple: do more good than harm and someday master the do-not-mess-with-me look. I roost in Washington State with my husband and our two children.
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