Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 53698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Anyway. Despite the special agent’s lack of imagination, he’d somehow wormed his way into her heart. Just the outer layer, though! Not the gooey center, where love bubbled and brewed. She would never, never, ever let herself love him. Or anyone! Break rule number one? No!
Her personal code had developed from a family curse. Like, a legit curse. But it only affected the women. Fall in love, lose the guy. An outcome as certain as death. Her mom had lost her dad. Grandma Lily had lost Pops. Her great grandmother Opal lost a husband twice! And on and on and on.
Not happening to me. Nope. Jane had lost too much already.
“How do I look?” Fiona asked, adjusting her costume. “To die for?”
Jane gave the gorgeous “Nana” a once-over. With Fiona’s salt-and-pepper hair pinned back, she put her dark, unlined skin on display. A drop-waisted gown highlighted a buxom figure. The cloche hat and long string of pearls completed the outfit.
“You steal my breath,” Jane said with a smile. “See what I did there?”
They shared a snicker.
To pad Jane’s meager family trust—among other reasons—she’d teamed up with the town’s premiere party planners, Charlotte and Audrey Berdize, to kick off Aurelian Hill’s first murder mystery party. The Case of the Hotsy-Totsy Bandit. Beyond this point, inside the cemetery itself, local businesses had set up booths to advertise, display and sell their goods and services while handing out clues. Including the Berdize sisters.
“Honestly, Fee, you look like you stepped from a picture of the 1920s,” Jane added.
“Classic. Timeless. Lovely.”
Her friend preened. “I gotta say, you took the words right out of my mouth about you, hon. You are classic, timeless, and lovely as well.”
“I am, aren’t I?” Jane responded with a teasing smile, fluffing her coiffed hair. After days of deliberation, she’d chosen a gold flapper dress, with dotted tulle and feathers. On her head perched a glorious fascinator hat. Both the fascinator and the cloche belonged to her extensive—and impressive—collection.
A buzz sounded from her phone, letting her know she’d gotten a new text. She sighed. No need to read the screen. She knew the message came from a Berdize sister. The pair had been reaching out every two minutes or so.
Jane checked–yep. Sure enough.
A-Berdize: Why haven’t you released the hounds into the wild already????
The guests were the hounds, she assumed. Her gaze strayed to the clock in the upper left hand of the screen. 8:16 p.m. She heaved another sigh. It wasn’t her fault the MC was late, preventing the players from receiving their first clue.
Rather than explain, she replied with a shrug emoji. Invited fewer questions.
As she returned the device to her pocket, a man in the corner snagged her attention. Anthony Miller, draining the contents of a flask, glaring at someone in the crowd. Jane stiffened. Had her former lawyer come to demand more money she didn’t owe him?
Fiona patted her hand. “Don’t you worry, dear. Sheriff Moore will be here in a hop, skip and a jump. Why, I bet he went to check on his deputies. They’re patrolling the city without him tonight and I think we can both agree he’s the brains in that operation. Once he starts emcee-ing, everyone will forget the wait. They’ll be too enraptured by his delicious voice to remember.”
Sheriff Moore. A gruff protector had stolen Fiona’s affections. Obviously.
Though Jane considered the man’s voice, well, normal, she said, “I hope you’re right, Fee.” Conrad’s voice on the other hand…
“Besides,” Fiona continued, unfazed. “No one seems to mind the wait. Everyone is having a wonderful time.”
Excitement did crackle all around. At small, round tables, children painted mini-treasure boxes. Costumed adults gobbled up hors d’oeuvres, drank champagne, and snapped photos in front of a giant Wanted poster featuring Beau Harden, another childhood friend of Jane’s. More than half the town had shown up, paying fifty bucks a pop to try to solve the elaborate murder she’d crafted herself. And, okay, yes, everyone also hoped to win a weekend stay at the newly opened Aurelian Hills Vineyard Inn. Which had been donated in an attempt to gain business via the Berdize sisters.
Conrad was the only person without so much as a boater hat. Jane didn’t want to say he was a fuddy duddy in the dress-up department, but he was absolutely a fuddy duddy. Somehow, she dated him anyway. Adored him, really. Hmm. No, she wasn’t comfortable using the A word to describe the man who’d kissed the breath from her lungs only weeks ago. At her invitation. A mistake she couldn’t allow herself to make again. Not more than a few more times. Twenty, max. Maybe thirty. Possibly fifty. She...kinda liked him. Yes, a much better description.
Her phone buzzed again. Groaning, she checked the message.
C-Berdize: Are the perp and vic not ready? Is that the problem???