Welcome P.
J. MacLayne! Please tell us about The Marquesa's Necklace (The
Oak Grove Mysteries, Book 1).
The truth is,
I didn't set out to write a cozy mystery series. This book was supposed to be a
romance. My characters, especially Harmony Duprie, the main character,
convinced me otherwise, but did allow me to keep the romance as a sub-plot.
By the end of
the book, I'd fallen in love with Harmony, and knew what was intended to be a
stand-alone story would be a series. I've written three books in the series so
far, and am currently working on the fourth. But I have great fondness for the
story that started it all.
The Marquesa's Necklace
Harmony
Duprie enjoyed her well-ordered life in the quiet little town of Oak
Grove—until her arrest for drug trafficking. Cleared of all charges, she wants
nothing more than to return to the uneventful lifestyle of a historical
researcher she once savored.
But when her
beloved old car “George” is stolen and explodes into a ball of flames, it sets
off a series of events that throws her plans into turmoil. Toss in a police
detective that may or may not be interested in her, an attractive but
mysterious stranger on her trail, and an ex-boyfriend doing time, and Harmony’s
life freefalls into a downward spiral of chaos.
Now she has
to use her research skills to figure out who is behind the sinister incidents
plaguing her, and why. And she better take it seriously, like her life depends
upon finding the right answers.
Because
it might.
Excerpt:
Officer
Felton left me in the barely-furnished lobby. It was a place you don’t want to
stay in too long—several hard plastic chairs, a beat-up fake wood end table and
a few old magazines scattered about. It smelled like stale cigarettes, and
appeared not to have been cleaned for weeks. I perched on the edge of a chair
and put my hands between my knees to keep from touching anything. Thankfully,
it was only moments until Detective Thomason appeared. I gave him the once
over—brown hair still cut short—check. Glasses hiding those dark brown
eyes—check. His shirt rumpled and in need of an iron—check. No wedding band in
his finger—check. Yep, nothing had changed.
As
I stood, his eyes wandered from my face down to my shoes. The corners of his
lips curled upward, but I wouldn’t say that he smiled. A smile would have
looked odd on his normally grim face.
“If you would come with me, please?” he
said.
He
even put the please in there, unlike our previous encounters. Of course, those
times, I had been either in booking or in one of the interrogation chambers. I
know, I know, they’re interview rooms. Whatever. I followed him through a maze
of desks and hallways and into a small but comfortable office, my heels
clicking on the tile floor. I’d never noticed before what a nice behind he had.
I wondered if it was just the pants he was wearing, or if I’d just not looked
before, having other things on my mind. Like calling a lawyer.
“Have a seat, please,” he said,
indicating an armless office chair—at least its seat was padded. He sat on the
other side of a desk covered with an assortment of files and paperwork, and
picked up a file from the top of the stack.
“Harmony,” he said tentatively.
“Detective Thomason,” He might be
trying to be friendly, but I still hadn’t forgiven him for arresting me.
He
cleared his throat, and set the file back on his desk. “Did you let anyone
borrow your car today?” he asked.
“No, my keys are right here.” I started
digging through the contents of my purse.
“I’ll take your word for it,” he said,
after I pulled out my checkbook, a packet of pink tissues, and a paperback with
an almost-naked man on the front cover and piled them on the corner of his
desk. His mouth twitched. “Have you made any new enemies recently, Miss
Duprie?” I guess he got my message about the terms of our relationship.
“Besides a certain insufferable cop?”
Even in the artificial fluorescent light, I saw the red rising in his cheeks. I
could almost hear him counting to ten as I pretended to consider the question.
“I think Larry, the florist, is ticked off that I’m not receiving flowers
anymore. And Bart at the grocery store yelled at me last week when I went
through the ten items or less line with fourteen items. But what does that have
to do with someone stealing and wrecking my car?”
Get The Marquesa’s Necklace at:
Amazon
Amazon
Born and raised among the rolling
hills of western Pennsylvania, P.J. MacLayne still finds inspiration for her
books in that landscape. She is a computer geek by day and a writer by night
who currently lives in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains. When she's not in
front of a computer screen, she might be found exploring the back roads of the
nearby national forests and parks. In addition to the Free Wolves’ stories, she
is also the author of the Oak Grove series.
P.J. MacLayne can be reached on:
Facebook https://facebook.com/pjmaclayne
Twitter https://twitter.com/pjmaclayne
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