#SampleSunday The Witness Wore Blood Bay

Here's an excerpt from Chapter Two in which Leigh McRae has just learned that a friend from the horse club was arrested for murder. Leigh and her cousin Sammi have gone over to the friend's house to bring so food for the woman's husband. But they've discovered he's not alone. The victim's wife is with him and it doesn't look like the pair have been playing chess. 

       Sammi beat me to the car and yanked open the passenger side door. She turned to glare in the direction of the house. “I have half a mind to take back what’s left of my chocolate cake. Okay, so they’re both in shock, and from what little we know it looks like Candy did off Richard. But they don’t have to be so blatant about their relationship while the poor woman rots in jail.”

            “Samantha Hollister, I’m perplexed by your attitude. Aren’t you the one who’s always telling people to read self-help books and stop judging others?”

            “Cut it out. You thought the same thing I did.” She tossed her purse on the floor of the car and made a growling sound deep in her throat.

            “Yeah, I did,” I admitted. I paused with my hand on my car door and stared in the direction of the stable. My mental machinery hummed, telling me there was more than one way to help the Lowells.

            “As far as I’m concerned, babe, the only self-help book those two need is something called Cooling Off, For Dummies. And Francine could benefit from a course in how to tame her inner bitch. Let’s get going. I’m hot, tired, and I still have to pick up Jeeves at Maggie’s.” Jeeves was Sammi’s Old English Sheepdog. Sammi took him to Maggie’s for regular grooming sessions to keep his coat under control.

            “In a minute.” I felt my brow furrow and knew I was risking the permanent wrinkles all the face cream ads warned me about. “Mark doesn’t know much about horses. It wouldn’t be neighborly of me to race off into the sunset without checking to see that Candy’s mare is okay. After all, the poor horse did witness a murder today.”

            Sammi put her hands to her head and pretended to rip clumps of her hair out of her scalp. “You are too much. So now you’re using the mare’s supposed trauma as an excuse to scope out the murder scene.”

            “I’m just saying.”

            “I’ll bet you are. But what’s the rule about you getting involved in murder cases? Tell me, babe, what’s the rule?”

            “It’s not exactly a rule, it’s more of a helpful guideline. Besides, seeing to a traumatized horse is not the same as getting involved.” I shot her a smile meant to convince her I was simply looking out for the mare. My initial reluctance to drive over to the Lowell place had turned into a wicked case of curious.

            “I ought to hog tie you and throw you in the trunk. Unfortunately, I know you won’t shut up until I give in. But you owe me one.” 

The Witness Wore Blood Bay

The Witness Wore Blood Bay

Excerpt from a random chapter. Doug Reilly is moving into Leigh's guesthouse. As Leigh is helping Doug unload his car, Doug's ex girlfriend drives by. 

            “Dang. What’s that woman doing out this way?”

            “What woman?” I hefted a trash bag and decided it was light enough for me to carry to the guesthouse.

            “Rebecca. That was her car. I hope she ain’t following me.”

            I silently agreed with him. For some reason I really would rather she didn’t know Doug had moved out to my place, but I’d seen the driver turn and look directly at us, though I hadn’t been able to make out her features from that distance.            

            “I’m sure she wasn’t stalking you or anything, Doug. I was at Brenda’s earlier and she said Rebecca was coming by to get a puppy she was giving away, so that has to be why she’s out here. Except I got the puppy for myself.”

            “Yeah?” He frowned. “Hope Rebecca don’t hold it against you.”

            “Good lord, Doug, you sure are scared of her. For heavens sake, what could she possibly do?”

            “Anything.” He shot me a dark look and slung one of the trash bags over his shoulder.

            “You might be right.” I shivered. Rebecca was younger and stronger than I was and fully capable of inflicting plenty of damage if she wanted to. I’d seen that when she went after Doug, who had probably deserved a little roughing up given his track record with women--date ‘em and dump ‘em. But of course, Rebecca wouldn’t hurt me. Sane people don’t go around hurting other people simply because they lost out on a puppy. Or because that person tricked their way her parents’ house.

            Doug and I finished carrying bags to the guesthouse and came back to the car to wrestle a donated TV out of the trunk. I hoped he knew that cable didn’t come with the rent.

            “Got it?” I asked. From the way he was staring over my head, I figured he’d zoned out and was in danger of dropping the set on my feet. I took two steps back before I turned to follow the direction of his gaze. Damn. Rebecca was passing the house again, and this time her car was crawling along under the limit. When she got even with my driveway, she braked hard and flipped a bird at us before accelerating and disappearing around a curve in the road. 

            “Guess she ain’t too happy about you getting that puppy.” Doug hitched the TV higher and took a tighter grip.

            “Guess not.” I wished I hadn’t seen her drive by.

            About ten minutes later, Brenda stopped to drop off Lorne--I still hadn’t thought of a better name--right after Adam pulled up behind Doug’s car. I didn’t like owing Brenda. On the other hand, I really did want to protect the puppy from a woman with a violent temper.

            “Here you go.” She pushed the puppy into my arms and, seeing that Adam had walked up beside me, she handed him a sample bag of puppy food. “Francine has his health record, so you’ll have to pick it up from her. Thanks. ‘Bye.”

            She zoomed off as if she were afraid I’d not only change my mind, but I’d load the back of her pickup with more animals for her to feed. Poor Brenda. She was struggling to sell off excess animals and not having all that much luck.

            Adam held the dog food out in front of him and shook the bag, pretending to be shocked. “Another stray?”

            “Sort of. Brenda couldn’t keep him and I didn’t want Rebecca to get her hands on him. She’s evil.”

            “Evil? You’re starting to sound like Sammi. Who’s Rebecca?”

            “Doug’s ex girlfriend. Not Tina--the latest ex.”

            “Doug’s girlfriend situation is way too complicated for me.” He rolled his eyes. “Let’s go fix dinner. I brought steaks. Uhmm, you don’t have to feed Doug, do you?”

The Witness Wore Blood Bay

#SampleSunday The Witness Wore Blood Bay

The Witness Wore Blood Bay is the second book in my Leigh McRae mystery series. You don't have to read the first book to enjoy the second one as a standalone. In the following scene, Leigh and her cousin Sammi have just learned that Candy Lowell has been arrested for murdering Richard Swale. They have gone to Candy's home to deliver some food to Candy's husband, Mark, and are discussing events with him in his living room. 

“Sammi’s right about the lawyer, Mark. Whatever happened in that stable, Candy deserves a chance to defend herself in court.” I would have suggested my ex sister-in-law, Kendra, the only attorney I knew, except that A) she wasn’t a criminal defense attorney and B) I didn’t like her.

“I don’t agree. That bitch killed my husband and I want her to fry!”

Sammi stifled a yelp and I jumped to my feet, almost spilling what was left of my tea. Francine Swale stood in the doorway between the living room and the dining room, her hands on her curvy hips.

I couldn't help staring at what I judged to be a surgically enhanced chest. The woman could have modeled for Playboy if she were fifteen years younger, and if her face weren’t all blotchy from rage. Or from crying—I couldn’t tell which.

“Ladies, this is Francine Swale. She works with me selling cars.” Mark cleared his throat a couple of times.

Yeah, and she was also the murder victim's widow. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he’d much rather we hadn't found out she was in the house and had obviously been there the whole time, lurking out of sight and probably listening.

“Francine, ah, didn’t feel well enough to go home, so she’s been resting in the guest room. Francine, Leigh McRae and her cousin, Sammi Hollister.”

“Hello, Francine.” I didn’t bother to remind her I’d met her before and I’d seen her last night at the horse club meeting—arguing with her husband, who was now dead. “Sorry for your loss.”

Francine’s dark eyes snapped. “So am I. But the police know Candy did it and she’s going to pay one way or the other. I hope she fries like breakfast bacon.” She strode across the room and dropped onto the couch next to Mark, crossing her long legs and not bothering to tug her micro skirt down over her shapely thighs.

I pasted on the stupidest of smiles for lack of anything useful to say or do. I mean, how do you agree with a remark like that without coming across like a vigilante?

There, there, Francine. If the justice system doesn’t do its job, we’ll bring the firewood and some lighter fluid and help you take care of the problem.

And if I didn’t agree, I might send this woman into orbit. Judging by the way she’d spoken and the look in her eyes, I definitely didn’t want to be on Francine Swale’s “People Not to Like List.”

And what was up with Mark? Shock or no shock, you would have thought he'd want to defend his wife. I couldn’t help noticing that Francine’s skirt, as well as her blouse, were splotched with what I took to be blood. Brenda had said Mark had to pull her away from trying to give her husband CPR, but you would have thought she would have wanted to change into something a little less gory.

Rib nudge from Sammi. My sides were really getting a workout today and I made a mental note to look into buying a flak jacket. I nudged back to show we were on the same page—wondering if Francine really cared about her husband or if she was putting on an act. Funny how murder can bring out cynical thoughts, even in people who normally are pretty tame. But if Francine was as in love with Richard as her comments about wanting revenge would indicate, why was she sitting so close to Mark they could have been conjoined twins? If their body language meant what it said, those two had something going on.

The Witness Wore Blood Bay

#SampleSunday The Witness Wore Blood Bay

In Talented Horsewoman, the first book of the Leigh McRae horse mystery series, main character Leigh McRae discovers a body. She also ends up solving a murder. Along the way she helps her cousin Sammi, who is dating a burglar, and she manages to get out from under the control of her overbearing ex-husband.

Now Leigh's friend Candy, a fellow horsewoman, finds herself accused of murder. Who else would she turn to for help except Leigh? After all, everyone in small town Del Canto knows Leigh has body-discovering experience. Never mind that Leigh is busy finding out who's poisoning dogs in Sammi's neighborhood and she's trying to renovate her home without going broke. Or that her ex-husband Kenneth and former ranchhand Doug Reilly have become roommates in Leigh's guest house.

There's a murder to solve. And her friend won't take no for an answer.

The set up: Leigh and cousin Sammi are returning from a horse club picnic. They're stopping to pick up Sammi's dog from the groomer and Sammi reveals that she needs for Leigh to do her a favor. 

 I’d known when Sammi showed up at my house claiming she was dying to picnic with the horse club, that she had something on her mind. But in all the excitement about the murder, I’d completely forgotten.

“Do I need to guess? You’ve got a hot date and you need a dog sitter so Jeeves won’t scare the guy off before you can have your way with him.”

“Wrong, totally wrong. Unfortunately, I am dateless these days. But I do need you to watch Jeeves for a while. Please?”

“Define ‘a while,’” I said cautiously. Sammi’s sense of time differed radically from mine.

“I couldn’t say, but it’s an emergency. A week, maybe?”

Way too vague. “You know I love the big lug even if he does shed about ten pounds of hair a day and he likes to snack on furniture. I’ll agree to dog sit since it’s an emergency. But you have to tell me. Come on, what’s the mystery? Cruise?” I wiggled my eyebrows. “Romance on the high seas?”

“It’s not a mystery and I’m not going anywhere. It’s all because of my new neighbors, the Barkers. You know that house on the corner, the one that’s been vacant since forever?”

“Yep. The cute Craftsman with the neat lawn and a plastic flamingo family standing around looking tacky next to a palm tree. A couple of gigantic mango trees out back.”

“That’s the one, except the flamingos are gone, replaced by a couple of the ugliest garden gnomes you ever saw in your life. Some people finally bought the place and they moved in a couple of weeks ago. I went over to take them a cake and welcome them to the neighborhood—you know, the way I always do. I think neighbors should get to know each other, especially now when it seems you have more friends on Facebook than you do in real life. And then you’re not sure they’re really who they say they are, but they seem nice and you laugh at their Youtube videos, so you keep posting on their wall.”

I waved my hand in front of her face. “Sammi, you’re way off topic.”

“Yeah, okay. Well, at first I thought the Barkers were nice, a typical middle-aged couple who moved down from some typical state in the midwest to downsize their lives now that their kids are grown. You know how people do. Sell out in Ohio and head to sunny Florida for their golden years. But it turned out they're from Fort Myers and they're not retired yet. They just wanted to move to a smaller place. Next thing I know they’re at my door complaining about Jeeves.” She said this last as though the Barkers had talked dirt about Jesus.

“What exactly is the nature of their complaint?” I pulled into Maggie’s driveway. Surely Jeeves hadn’t gone over to their house and shed all over their porch or peed on their ugly gnomes.

“They claim he dug up their marigolds the last time he got out. They think he barks too much and disturbs their peace and quiet. They even implied he makes their lives a living hell. But I swear, he hardly ever barks and I had the fence fixed so he can’t escape again. Very often.”

I started laughing and couldn’t stop until Sammi grabbed my shoulders and shook me. “Cut it out. This isn’t the least bit funny.”

“I know, I know, but it’s so ironic about their name—the Barkers. And they’re complaining about a barking dog.”

“Right, babe, it’s hysterical.” She folded her arms across her chest. “You know I wouldn’t worry one bit about them and their stupid complaints—except they threatened to report Jeeves to the police for being a public nuisance. They did the same thing to that nice Mrs. Abrams who lives on the other side of them, and then two days later her sweet little dachshund turned up dead in her back yard. The vet thinks he was poisoned. After that the people at the end of the block found their beagle dead. He was fine when they brought him in for the night, but when they got up, he was stiff as a board in his doggie bed, legs poking up in the air like a dead roach. Another suspected poisoning. It’s so tragic.”

“What?” I yelped, staring at her, hardly able to believe someone was killing dogs. “A dog poisoner?”

“I know, right? I can’t imagine someone could be so vicious. But please keep Jeeves until I have a chance to get to the bottom of this. I mean, I’d die if they assassinated him while I was at work. I can’t keep him inside all the time. I have to leave him out in the yard at least part of the day. You know how he is.”

Did I ever. Jeeves could last only a few hours alone in the house before he got neurotic. He’d once eaten Sammi’s couch and then had her draperies for dessert while she was on a date that lasted longer than she’d planned. The new procedure when she wasn’t home was that he stayed either in the garage or in the fenced yard, though he’d been known to escape from the yard.

“Of course I’ll dog sit.” I would never forgive myself if Jeeves were murdered because I refused to help.

“Thanks, babe.” Sammi jumped out of the car and blew me a kiss.

She scurried inside the grooming shop. Since Maggie Cameron had inherited money from her sister Rita and expanded her boarding kennel, she’d relocated the grooming shop and renamed her business Maggie’s Pet Spa. And raised her prices.

Sammi disappeared inside the shop and reappeared a moment later with Jeeves leaping up and down beside her as if he were on a pogo stick. Maggie had put a red bandanna around his neck, and I wondered how long it would take for him to find a way to eat it.

“Jeeves, settle!” Sammi shook her finger at him and opened the back door of the car. Jeeves rocketed inside, knocking Benji’s toy tractor off the seat. Then he leaned forward to rest his head on my shoulder. A haze of doggie cologne drifted in front of me and I waved my hand to disperse it.

“Hey, I don't need a co-driver, Jeeves. Back off.”

“Jeeves, you know better.” Sammi pushed her dog down on the back seat. “He doesn’t recognize his boundaries yet. I’ll come over tomorrow afternoon and give you a few pointers.”

I raised both eyebrows. Somehow I suspected that a few pointers on Jeeves-wrangling weren’t going to be all that effective, especially since he didn’t seem to mind Sammi terribly well, either. I’d never kept him for more than a day or so and wasn’t exactly looking forward to the mess from his shedding or the possibility of him turning my furniture into sawdust. Still, I did owe Sammi and I didn’t want her dog to be in danger any more than she did. I had a fenced yard where he could stay while I was at work. I didn’t know what she intended as far as sleuthing to find out if the Barkers were dog murderers, though. I mean it wasn’t as if she could search their house for poison or follow them around to make a citizen’s arrest if she caught them feeding arsenic-laced hamburger to the neighborhood canines.

“So how well did you know him?” Sammi asked as I pulled back onto the highway.

“Jeeves?” I glanced at her sideways. I thought we’d covered the topic of his behavior.

“No, silly. I mean, Richard—the murdered guy.”

“Wow, that was random. I thought you said we weren’t interested in the murder.” A vulture flopped to a landing on a dead armadillo about a hundred yards in front of my car and then, looking up and seeing how close I was, ponderously took off again. 

“I never said we weren’t interested in the murder. I said you were not going to get involved.”

“Yeah, I said the same thing. So what do you mean? Like what he was like and what he did for a living?”

“I was only curious.” Sammi tossed her hair back over her shoulders and stared straight ahead through my grimy windshield.

Note to self. Wash the car. And remember to ask Sammi why she was “only curious,” while I was “nosy.”

“I didn't know him that well, but I heard he was a womanizer and after he had a couple of affairs, Francine was going to leave him, but he promised to go straight. I heard all this second-hand from Nancy."

"Hmm. So maybe one of his exes killed him for revenge."

"I thought of that, but then why would whoever killed him frame Candy Lowell?" It made no sense. "Richard manages—managed—that seafood restaurant in town near the harbor. The Fin and Claw.”

“Really?” She sounded impressed. “I’ve never been, but I’ve heard it’s fabulous.”

“I heard the same, but I think fabulous means expensive.” I wondered if I should try it. Not that I could afford the prices. Still, now that Richard was dead, his job was opening up. Someone might get promoted. In this economy a job or even a promotion might be motive enough for a murder. My forehead muscles pulled into a frown so tight it's a miracle they didn't cramp up.

“Oh, no, you are not,” Sammi shrieked, slapping my shoulder with the back of her hand.

“Ow. Don’t hit the driver. What are you talking about?”

“I can so read your mind, babe. You think one of Richard’s co-workers might have killed him and you’re planning to go snooping around the Fin and Claw.”

“I admit the thought crossed my mind for the briefest of seconds. But it’s too farfetched.”

“Of course it is. And you are not going anywhere near that place unless you have me for backup.”

“Don’t worry. I'm not going near the Fin and Claw.” I rolled my eyes. It had only been a stray thought, not an actual plan. Thoughts couldn't hurt, could they?

The Witness Wore Blood Bay

#Sample Sunday: Talented Horsewoman

Talented Horsewoman is the first book in my Leigh McRae horse mystery series. 

About the book: Leigh McRae leads a quiet life in a small Florida town, surrounded by horse farms and alligators. For the sake of her daughter, she has traded her own happiness for job security and a truce with her ex-husband Kenneth, a poster boy for control freaks. But her peaceful existence is shattered when she discovers the body of her friend and fellow horsewoman, Rita Cameron. The police conclude Rita died in an accidental fall from a hayloft. Leigh is sure the death was a murder and she sets out to convince the police to investigate so her friend can rest in peace.

Meanwhile she has to deal with escalating demands from Kenneth, demands that may cost her her horses as well as her home. And on top of everything else, she has to help her cousin Sammi, who's dating a burglar. But Leigh doesn't let personal problems stop her from sleuthing, even though she admits she is not the world's greatest detective. While digging for evidence, she discovers a secret in Rita's past. Now Leigh and her daughter are in danger, and only Leigh's actions can save them.

Here's short excerpt from Chapter Two. Leigh has gone home after discovering her friend's body. 

I was in the middle of slicing a tomato when a familiar, older model, black Buick rattled up the driveway and coughed to a stop near the garage. Sammi hadn’t wasted any time.

I watched her get out of the car. Like me, Sammi had inherited her height from her father. Our fathers were brothers and we referred to them—along with my brother Chad--as the Hollister men. Sammi had three inches on me, though. She was six feet tall. I was fortunate enough to get my mother’s slender figure. But Sammi was solidly built like a Hollister man--she weighed close to two hundred pounds.

She flung herself across the yard in the direction of the house, her waist length hair flying loose behind her like a silk, golden cape. At least she hadn’t brought along Jeeves, her Old English sheepdog, known for his world class drooling and shedding.

She’d dressed as if she were ready to conduct a séance. Her loose, purple crepe top flowed down over her arms to her wrists and her matching skirt reached almost to the tops of her shoes. That much material could have made drapes for my entire house, but the outfit suited her, somehow managing to impart an air of grace that she didn’t normally have.

She let herself in through the sliding glass door into the kitchen and stopped short when she saw me. “Leigh, your eyes are as red as those tomatoes. Tension headache, right?” 

She took the knife out of my hand. “Let me do that before you cut off something important. You should be resting in bed.”

            “I can’t.” I knew by now to refrain from shaking my head and aggravating the throbbing in my temples. “Wait until we sit down and I’ll tell you about it.”

“I already heard," she said in her husky, ex-smoker’s voice. 

"You heard about Rita Cameron?"

"Lead story on the radio. I figured I better detour on over here and offer you a shoulder to lean on. They didn't identify the victim, but of course, everyone knows who it is; you know the gossip line in Del Canto. I stopped at the grocery and the head cashier—she’s Paris Winslow’s aunt--told me it was Rita and that you found her. Is it true she's dead?”

“I'm afraid so. Sorry I didn’t return your call earlier, but this has been one hell of a morning.”

“I hear ya, hon.”

Sammi finished slicing the tomato and arranged the pieces neatly on top of the salad. With a final dash of artistry, she dropped five black olives in the center of the bowl and squirted a dollop of French dressing on top.

"Lunch, Sammi?"

"I’d confuse my body if I ate this early, but you go ahead."

A queasy feeling rose suddenly in my stomach, and I knew food would only make me sick. "Let's skip it then." I waved at her to follow me down the hall. 

We settled ourselves in the living room, me draped sideways in my faithful recliner, and Sammi taking up most of the love seat. She pushed her hair out of her face two or three times and finally gave up, letting it slide down over her eyes. Sammi had a long face, a long straight nose, and almond shaped brown eyes, so with her hair parted in the middle she reminded me of an Afghan hound.

“So Rita was dead when you found her?” She sounded half out of breath.

“Isn’t that what it said on the radio?”

“Yep. Horrible, isn’t it? One minute she's tossing hay bales around and the next she's on her way to a slab at the morgue.”

Without warning Sammi hauled herself to her feet and strode over to peer out through the front curtains. As suddenly as she’d gotten up she was back in her seat, perched on the edge of the cushion and swinging the gold chain of her necklace in front of her like a tiny lasso. 

“The police are sure it was a freak accident?”

    “I think so. I mean, I wasn’t there watching in helpless fascination as she fell. Millie Destin, Rita’s neighbor, was there before I was and she didn’t see it happen, either. Then there was a guy, Jared Beaumont I think he said his name was, who got there after me, so he knows less than I do.” I didn’t mention that I had a nagging doubts about Rita’s death because Sammi would expect me to know exactly what was bothering me and I didn’t have a clue. “Are you okay, Sammi?”

Talented Horsewoman

#SampleSunday The Witness Wore Blood Bay

In Talented Horsewoman, the first book of the Leigh McRae horse mystery series, main character Leigh McRae discovers a body. She also ends up solving a murder. Along the way she helps her cousin Sammi, who is dating a burglar, and she manages to get out from under the control of her overbearing ex-husband.

Now Leigh's friend Candy, a fellow horsewoman, finds herself accused of murder. Who else would she turn to for help except Leigh? After all, everyone in small town Del Canto knows Leigh has body-discovering experience. Never mind that Leigh is busy finding out who's poisoning dogs in Sammi's neighborhood and she's trying to renovate her home without going broke. Or that her ex-husband Kenneth and former ranchhand Doug Reilly have become roommates in Leigh's guest house.

There's a murder to solve. And her friend won't take no for an answer.

The Witness Wore Blood Bay

Short excerpt from Chapter Two:

Sammi stifled a yelp and I jumped to my feet, almost spilling what was left of my tea. Francine Swale stood in the doorway between the living room and the dining room, her hands on her curvy hips.

I couldn't help staring at what I judged to be a surgically enhanced chest. The woman could have modeled for Playboy if she were fifteen years younger, and if her face weren’t all blotchy from rage. Or from crying—I couldn’t tell which.

“Ladies, this is Francine Swale. She works with me selling cars.” Mark cleared his throat a couple of times.

Yeah, and she was also the murder victim's widow. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he’d much rather we hadn't found out she was in the house and had obviously been there the whole time, lurking out of sight and probably listening.

“Francine, ah, didn’t feel well enough to go home, so she’s been resting in the guest room. Francine, Leigh McRae and her cousin, Sammi Hollister.”

“Hello, Francine.” I didn’t bother to remind her I’d met her before and I’d seen her last night at the horse club meeting—arguing with her husband, who was now dead. “Sorry for your loss.”

Francine’s dark eyes snapped. “So am I. But the police know Candy did it and she’s going to pay one way or the other. I hope she fries like breakfast bacon.” She strode across the room and dropped onto the couch next to Mark, crossing her long legs and not bothering to tug her micro skirt down over her shapely thighs.

I pasted on the stupidest of smiles for lack of anything useful to say or do. I mean, how do you agree with a remark like that without coming across like a vigilante?

There, there, Francine. If the justice system doesn’t do its job, we’ll bring the firewood and some lighter fluid and help you take care of the problem.

And if I didn’t agree, I might send this woman into orbit. Judging by the way she’d spoken and the look in her eyes, I definitely didn’t want to be on Francine Swale’s “People Not to Like List.”

And what was up with Mark? Shock or no shock, you would have thought he'd want to defend his wife. I couldn’t help noticing that Francine’s skirt, as well as her blouse, were splotched with what I took to be blood. Brenda had said Mark had to pull her away from trying to give her husband CPR, but you would have thought she would have wanted to change into something a little less gory.

Rib nudge from Sammi. My sides were really getting a workout today and I made a mental note to look into buying a flak jacket. I nudged back to show we were on the same page—wondering if Francine really cared about her husband or if she was putting on an act. Funny how murder can bring out cynical thoughts, even in people who normally are pretty tame. But if Francine was as in love with Richard as her comments about wanting revenge would indicate, why was she sitting so close to Mark they could have been conjoined twins? If their body language meant what it said, those two had something going on. 

There Is No Such Thing As An Amateur Sleuth

Cozy mysteries are a subgenre of mysteries in which there is little or no sex or violence, the crime is usually solved by an amateur sleuth, and quite often the books are humorous. I read cozy mysteries. I talk about cozy mysteries. I write cozy mysteries. And that's absurd because there's really no such thing as an amateur sleuth.

Think about it. How many amateur sleuths have you met in your lifetime? Probably as many as I've met, which is none. I'm saying if they existed, you'd have seen one by now. Seems to me they're as scarce as unicorns.

Seriously, do you know people who would deliberately meddle in a police investigation? Or put themselves or the families in the sights of a killer? Because that's what amateur sleuths do.

That's one thing that makes them so much fun. I can read a cozy, and no matter how many victims fall to a killer, I can rest easy, knowing the book isn't even close to reality and there's going to be a happy ending. Cozies are pure escape fiction and the funnier and more over the top, the better I like them.

Sometimes I read the other kind of mystery, the ones where all the gory details are spelled out in the goriest of detail and the suspense ratchets up until people would have to resuscitate me if the phone rang. Too much of that kind of reading and I can't relax enough to go to sleep. Time to switch back to reading a good cozy.

Now we're talking. The main character is an ordinary person, usually someone with a strong sense of justice and who's nosy. The cast of supporting characters can be as real or as quirky as the author wants them to be and the same goes for the plot, which is often over the top.

I like to laugh, I like light reading, and I love cozies. In my book, amateur sleuths rule.

My amateur sleuth is Leigh McRae, a horsewoman who lives in a small Florida town with her daughter and her fiancé. She's nosy, she likes to help people, and she can't stand it when a wrong goes un-righted. Leigh and her sidekick, her wacky cousin Sammi, get themselves in a lot of trouble. Leigh is the first to admit she's a terrible detective. But somehow she manages to bumble her way to the truth.

I've just published the second of my Leigh McRae horse mystery books, The Witness Wore Blood Bay.  For now it's available at the introductory price of just $ .99. Draumr Publishing, publisher of Talented Horsewoman, has temporarily lowered the price of Talented Horsewoman from $6.99 to $2.99 to help  promote the series. If you want to read both of these, now is the time to buy. 

Very short excerpt from a scene where Leigh and Sammi are watching a movie while they discuss criminal activity in their town:

Sammi was too busy oohing and aahing at the vision in front of her to notice anything such as popcorn. The first scene featured one of her favorite actors stepping into the shower. They showed him from the back only, but it was enough to keep Sammi’s eyes glued to the set.

“Can you believe it? Isn’t that the most gorgeous rear end you ever saw in your life?” She leaned forward to get a better look, and I knew she was wishing I had a sixty-inch high def instead of my plain old nineteen inch, circa 1980, hand-me-down from Aunt Dorothy.

I snorted. “Drag your eyes back into their sockets, woman. That is soooo a stunt butt.”

“Is not.” She snatched the remote off the coffee table and hit pause. The picture froze and the well-tanned butt in question took up so much of the screen it looked like a ripe peach.

Talented Horsewoman                                     The Witness Wore Blood Bay

#Sample Sunday: Talented Horsewoman

As I announced yesterday, my publisher for Talented Horsewoman the first in my Leigh McRae horse mystery series has put it on sale to help me promote the upcoming indie publication of the second in the series. Talented Horsewoman is reduced from $6.99 to $2.99 for a short time only. If you love horse mysteries, now is the time to get the first book.

Here's a sample from Chapter One:

Chapter One

If only. Those two little words were to haunt me for weeks. If only I hadn’t put off getting my hair trimmed, I wouldn’t have had to spend so much time forcing the flyaway blond strands into a single neat braid. If only I hadn’t paused to answer the phone, I wouldn’t have wasted ten minutes, too polite to hang up on a telemarketer who said my name—Leigh McRae—in reverent tones that could have indicated she’d mistaken me for a movie star.

I finally cut her off and, still feeling no sense of urgency, sauntered out to my truck.  Later I would wonder why I’d given in to a demon sweet tooth that had made me stop for coffee at Bo’s Diner and then linger stuffing my face with a chocolate donut.

It wasn’t until I’d licked the last bit of sugar from my fingers that I finally considered I’d be late if I didn’t hurry. I drove a few miles over the limit until I came to a construction zone where I lost all the minutes I’d gained.

Cursing under my breath, I inched my way past a mile of traffic cones and then sped the rest of the way down Brick House Road to whip the truck into Rita’s driveway. I bounced through a pothole, rounded a bend, and instantly registered a horse barreling toward me. In a microsecond I hit the brakes and jammed the shift lever into park, barely avoiding a nasty collision.

A sorrel filly raced free as a mustang back down the driveway. She’d streaked toward the truck at dazzling speed before sliding to a stop that left grooves in the dirt. Without pause she rolled on her hocks and reversed direction. After a quick circuit of the corral, she finally slowed from a gallop to a prance, flying her flame-red tail like a banner and holding her head high as the prow of a sailing ship. 

My breath whooshed out. The one horse stampede was over. Another second or two and the filly I knew as Sandstone Tinker Star would likely head for the patch of Bermuda grass near the hay barn and settle down to grazing—easy for me to catch her. But before I could act, a screaming woman brandishing a flimsy pine branch flashed into view from the left, and Tinker turned on the afterburners.

I leaped out of the truck and hit the ground running, my arms whirling like plane propellers. "Stop screaming and waving that stick around. You’re scaring her."

The branch-wielding woman showed no signs of having heard and, as Tinker raced past, she planted her legs wide apart and landed a solid blow on the filly’s rump. Without missing a beat, Tinker fired with both hind legs, just missing the woman’s shoulder. The filly’s tail swished and she swerved toward the training arena.

By then I’d had time to conclude that the horse-chasing woman was Millie Destin, Rita’s neighbor from across the road. If she wasn’t careful she was going to end up with getting kicked or worse.

I turned to follow Tinker’s movement, hoping she wouldn’t head back to Millie. As I tracked the galloping form past the barn, a bundle of rags on the ground barely merited my attention—until an instant later when I realized the bundle wasn’t rags. With a jolt somewhere in the center of my chest I stumbled forward.

"Oh, my God, it's Rita," Millie sang out, echoing my thoughts. She scurried over to grab my arm, her fingers digging in like pincers until I peeled her loose. I glanced sideways and noted her complexion was the color of an undercooked biscuit. Mine probably matched.

We moved closer and I saw that the figure was indeed Rita Cameron. Holding on to each other for support, Millie and I stared down at Rita. She lay on her stomach, her face pressed against the concrete that formed a parking pad in front of the hay barn. Blood had pooled around her head.

I dropped to my knees and felt for a pulse in her neck. Nothing. I knew it might be dangerous to move her if she were still alive, but she wasn’t breathing. CPR might be her only chance, so with Millie’s help I rolled her over. Then I wished I hadn’t. Rita’s blue eyes were wide open and had taken on the blankness of dolls’ eyes. Her blood-caked face was tinged purple.

“She's dead, ain't she?" Millie stuck her hands in the pockets of her baggy overalls. She screwed up her mouth in an attempt at a smile as if we were simply discussing last night’s rain, but I couldn’t miss the wobble in her voice.

I nodded. I’d never seen a dead person up close, but there wasn’t a shade of doubt. Living people have light in their eyes.

"Must of fell out of the hay loft." Millie bobbed her head to reinforce her conclusion.

I swallowed hard, barely able to take in that Rita was gone. “Looks that way.”

A soft whicker drew my attention back to Rita’s filly. After ending her race at the edge of the woods, she'd ambled back as far as the training arena gate where she stopped and watched us, her head lowered and her ears flicking back and forth. For the first time I saw the bright smear of crimson on her right shoulder.




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Talented Horsewoman Is On Sale

Talented Horsewoman is the first in my Leigh McRae mystery series. This book was trad published. A lot of people have commented on the title and they think it's--well, a little weird. Enquiring minds want to know why I chose that particular name for my book, so here's the scoop: Talented Horsewoman was my working title and all along I intended to find something fresh, new, and exciting that would help my baby fly off the shelves and into the hands of eager readers. Then along came a publisher. You never saw such excitement on my part--excitement that was quickly followed by a lot of hard work and a million things to do. With all of that going on, I neglected to tell the publisher I was going to use a different title and the book was published. So there you have it.  

Now here's some exciting news. The publisher of Talented Horsewoman has temporarily reduced the price from $6.99 to $2.99. This price won't last, though I have no idea when it's going back up. I'm indie publishing The Witness Wore Blood Bay, the second in the series, so for those who love horse mysteries and humor, the Leigh McRae series is for you and you might want to grab book one while it's bargain priced. The book has 19 reviews: 17 are five star and 2 are four star.

About Talented Horsewoman: Leigh McRae leads a quiet life in a small Florida town, surrounded by horse farms and alligators. For the sake of her daughter, she has traded her own happiness for job security and a truce with her ex-husband Kenneth, a poster boy for control freaks. But her peaceful existence is shattered when she discovers the body of her friend and fellow horsewoman, Rita Cameron. The police conclude Rita died in an accidental fall from a hayloft. Leigh is sure the death was a murder and she sets out to convince the police to investigate so her friend can rest in peace.

Meanwhile she has to deal with escalating demands from Kenneth, demands that may cost her her horses as well as her home. And on top of everything else, she has to help her cousin Sammi, who's dating a burglar. But Leigh doesn't let personal problems stop her from sleuthing, even though she admits she is not the world's greatest detective. While digging for evidence, she discovers a secret in Rita's past. Now Leigh and her daughter are in danger, and only Leigh's desperate actions can save them.

Sample Sunday: The Witness Wore Blood Bay

Coming Soon: The Witness Wore Blood Bay

Leigh McRae Has Body-Discovering Experience

In Talented Horsewoman, the first book of my horse mystery series, main character Leigh McRae discovers a body. She also ends up solving a murder. Along the way she helps her cousin Sammi, who is dating a burglar, and she manages to get out from under the control of her overbearing ex-husband.

Now Leigh's friend Candy, a fellow horsewoman, finds herself accused of murder. Who else would she turn to for help except Leigh? After all, everyone in small town Del Canto knows Leigh has body-discovering experience. Never mind that Leigh is busy finding out who's poisoning dogs in Sammi's neighborhood and she's trying to renovate her home without going broke. Or that her ex-husband Kenneth and former ranchhand Doug Reilly have become roommates in Leigh's guest house.

There's a murder to solve. And her friend won't take no for an answer.

Random excerpt from a chapter where Leigh and Sammi hunt for a dog killer

     Like me, Sammi was dressed entirely in black. Her outfit was a black dress that flowed to her ankles and mine was a black sweatsuit that didn’t flow anywhere, but had me--predictably--sweating rivers. It didn't help that I'd dabbed black mascara all over my face to disguise myself. Maybe we didn’t exactly know what we were doing, but I could see we didn’t intend to be seen doing whatever it was we were going to do.

“Hurry.” She made quick little motions with her hands, signaling me to follow her toward the back of her property. I noted she’d put on a black hat and covered her face with a piece of black netting that made her look like a Goth beekeeper. 

"Why? You said they were gone."

“Yes, but there's one thing that’s kind of bothering me, babe.” She paused at her back gate. Her eyes looked like they were checkered because of the netting. “How will we explain ourselves if someone catches us lurking outside the Barker home?” 

“That’s kind of bothering you, huh? I suppose we’ll tell them we were out ghost hunting. I brought along my digital camera so we can say we were trying to snap pictures of ectoplasm--or whatever it’s called--that was floating around the neighborhood. Maybe I’ll even make up a story about a jilted lover who haunts the street looking for his intended.” I patted the front pocket where I’d stashed the camera.

“Oh, wow, you really do have a knack for detecting. I never would have come up with that.” Sammi nodded her appreciation.

“I watch Ghost Hunters a lot. Have you seen the show? They’re plumbers by day, paranormal investigators by night.”

“Dope.” 

“I’m serious. They have a white van for plumbing and a black one for--”

“The Barker place is that way.” She pointed down the block in the direction away from town. “The white house. You want to lead?” Her expression, what I could see of it under the veil and in the dim light, looked hopeful.

I peered in the direction she indicated and made out a house that was lighter in color than the others. Could have been white. Looked blurry to me with no moon and the street light on the corner not working.

“How come I always have to be the brave one?”

“’Cause you’re braver than I am. Come on.” She slipped into the shadows and crept along the fence line, moving as stealthily as a woman her size could. Sammi's nearly six feet tall and big-boned.

I wondered if neighborhood dogs would hear us and bark an alert, but then I remembered there might not be any dogs left on her street thanks to the dog poisoner.  

Who Says Summer Camp Has to Be Boring?

           

Night Camp is my children's book for middle grade readers. It's available in print and in ebook. Reader response has been terrific and the book has 14 great reviews so far.

About the book:  Who says summer camp has to be boring? A spooky graveyard. A creepy basement. A pair of coffins. Thirteen-year-old Shane Andrews hates summer camp. When his parents allow him to choose, Shane decides to pick the worst camp he can find. Night Camp must be terrible. For one thing, activities take place at night and campers sleep during the day. That can’t be good, Shane reasons. His parents will realize Night Camp is even worse than they thought and they’ll come back to get him. Then Shane’s plans for summer freedom fall apart. His cousin Brad, a boy with a huge collection of tabloid magazines, convinces Shane that two of the camp counselors are vampires. Shane enlists the help of Brad and a girl camper named Nicole. The three set out to save themselves and the other campers. Then Shane uncovers the secret of Night Camp… 

A short excerpt from Chapter One where Shane and his parents are sorting through stacks of brochures to choose a camp.

            "Where do I put this one? It doesn't fit in any of the other stacks. What's Night Camp anyway?"

            "Let me see it."

            I took the brochure from my mother and studied the cover. If I stared at the red letters on the front long enough with my eyes sort of scrunched closed the letters seemed to run toward the bottom of the page almost as though they were dripping.

            I shook my head and blinked a few times to clear my vision. I opened the brochure. The paper on the inside was white, but the words were printed in the same blood red color as the cover. At the top of one page a picture showed a bat in flight as it swooped after a mouse racing for its life through a clearing.

            "Something different," I read out loud. "Let your child experience the richness and beauty of our planet at night. Camp activities include canoe rides by moonlight, exploring the environment at midnight, studying the night animals and insects, and stargazing, among others. Buy peace of mind. Know that your loved one isn't outside getting charbroiled in the noonday sun. We guarantee no sunburns!"

            I paused. I was wrong about all camps being alike. I read back over the part about buying peace of mind. A shiver rocketed up my spine. It sounded like an ad for a funeral home. Funeral directors were always calling people loved ones. I opened my hand and dropped the folder onto the table as though it had burned me.