Your Fear Becomes You

This was a book excerpt that I shared back in 2013. I ended up purchasing the book and enjoying it so much. I thought I would share it again with you because I loved it so much. The excerpt is great and this time there is a link for you to get the books as well. I used to do lots of book reviews here but then decided to put them into their own blog. I plan on sharing lots of the older one with you from time to time here as well.

MALICIOUS MISCHIEF

Is it strange to have the unemployment office on speed dial? Not for twenty-four-year-old college dropout Rylie Keyes. Her current job at a small retirement home is worlds more important than all her past gigs, though: if she loses this job, she won’t be able to stop the forced sale of her grandfather’s home, a house that has been in the family for ages. However, to keep her job she must figure out the truth behind the death of a senior citizen who was found murdered while in her care. Explain that one, Miss Keyes.

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.

Forced to dust off the PI training she needs to keep hidden from her ex-detective grandfather, Rylie must juggle the attentions of two sexy police officers who both excite and fluster her. And as she trudges through the case, she has no idea that along the way she might win, or lose, a little piece of her heart.

BUY ON AMAZON

“YOUR FEAR BECOMES YOU”

We can run, but we can’t hide from our fears. Neither can characters in books. Writers won’t let them. Thus, I decided, to better acquaint you with several characters in MALICIOUS MISCHIEF, 1^st in the Rylie Keyes romantic mystery series, I would share what scares the heck out of them. ~ Marianne Harden

RYLIE KEYES: Rylie faints at the sight of blood. Bam! She’s out cold. I had fun with this phobia. I hope you’ll agree once you read the hilarious, but tragic disaster I wreaked on her.
 

SOLOSOLO NAMULAU’ULU: Like the mighty elephant fears the humble mouse, Solo is terrified of honeybees. How often do I make him suffer? Never. But you don’t believe that, do you?

OFFICER ZACH O’NEIL: Zach shot and killed a thief in the line of duty, so the idea of taking another life haunts him. However, one thing disturbs this gorgeous man even more: the possibility of hurting a woman who shares his bed should he experience while asleep a PTSD flashback, a condition he’s suffered since the fatal robbery.

DETECTIVE THAD TALON:  True enough, this hunky Scotsman shows no fear. But it seems to me that most people with a secret life would reel at having to choose between their covert, yet crucial objective and much desired love.  

DETECTIVE KARL LIPSCHITZ: You won’t like him. I know I don’t. What a pain he was to write. So I’m happy to report that I gave him a ridiculous fear by which he would garner no sympathy from anyone. Lipschitz, the asshat, is afraid of butterflies. I think it’s a riot. Rylie does, too.

HAWTHORNE KEYES, Rylie’s granddad: Though he doesn’t know how to show much emotion, Hawthorne fears loosing Rylie as he did his daughter, Rylie’s mother, when she abandoned Rylie as a baby and disappeared, never to be heard from again. 

GILAD KUPPER: Senior citizen Gilad worries over contracting a disease. He’s a germaphobe to the max. He even has a germ-killing wand. 

CRAZY WALTER: Those voices in his head, he dreads them. They keep him up at night; they taunt him, and because of this, he will do something horrible. Just wait.

TITA IGLESIAS: Tita, a classic tough girl and former gang member, is now a talented chef and loving mother. Nonetheless, she fears coming off as weak and vulnerable. She won’t allow it. She can’t allow it.

I hope you enjoyed a sneak peek into the fears torturing the lives of some of the characters in MALICIOUS MISCHIEF, 1^st in the Rylie Keyes romantic mystery series. What do you fear? How does it control you? ~Marianne Harden   

MALICIOUS MISCHIEF –excerpt

I took off in a run, the fire swelling around me in a wide circle. As I drew near, Zach recovered enough to fish out the fire extinguisher from among the trash bags. He stumbled back, pulled the safety pin, and squeezed the handle. The force threw him to the ground.
I tried to grab the extinguisher but he fought me off. “Get the hell out of here.”
I tried again. This time I managed a better grip and yanked it free. Budding raindrops had me scanning the sky as I smothered the fire with dry foam. I barely took in the wet against my skin as the rain swelled to a downpour. Then out the tail of my eye, I saw something unbelievable: Zach shaking with laughter. I blinked, turned. His eyes were glued to my backside.
My mind was already shrieking when I twisted for a glimpse. The fire had left my skirt a no-show over my ass, and the scarcity of my pink thong made it a shiny moonbeam.
Arrgh.
Zach climbed to his feet, shrugged off his jacket, and tied the sleeves around my waist.
“Could this morning get any worse?” I asked, sighing.
Bad thing, questioning fate. I heard a loud gasp. My lifting gaze tracked Solo’s raised and pointing finger as he drew near in hurried steps. A hairy forearm hung out of the van. By the age spots, I knew it was a senior, almost certainly male. A round scar, silver dollar size and ugly, marred the back of his hand. It was familiar, yet no other thoughts gelled together.
Zach rushed to the van. Solo froze, his finger still suspended. My head filled with a boatload of promises to God as Zach lifted the man’s limp wrist. I started praying big time, pondering and zeroing in on my worst habit. I mumbled bargaining words about not screwing up at work for a day, maybe two days if the G-man needed a bigger carrot. Please don’t let the guy be dead.
“Alive?” I didn’t blink, couldn’t.
Zach shook his head, pushed aside the trash bags, and leaned in. “He’s an old dude, small and bald. He has a mustache and white beard. And he’s very dead.”
My mind clicked. A Nazi bullet had caused the scar. “It’s Otto Weiner, isn’t it?”
“The Jewish guy from FoY?” Zach asked. “The one who wears the beanie?”
“Kippah,” I said, and drew his puzzled gaze. “It’s called a kippah.”
“He isn’t wearing one now, but it’s him. It looks like he suffocated. A plastic bag is taped over his head.”
I stared blindly at the ground. I heard a squeak like a chew toy and cut my gaze to Solo. His eyes were bright like doppelganger comets.
“I’ve heard baking soda helps, or rubbing alcohol.” Not only could I not bring myself to believe Otto Weiner was dead in the van, but I was babbling like a stooge.
Solo wagged his finger. “Rylie, this is bad, really bad. What if they think you did it because of that fight?”
I sucked in air; it froze in my throat.
“That’s ridiculous,” Zach told him. “What fight? Rylie never fights.”
I inched my eyes his way. “I might have once.”
“With who?” Zach wanted to know.
My ears rang so loud they ached. “Otto Weiner.”