Sunday, April 30, 2017



A Poo Poo Kind of Morning

I tried not to look down the mouth of hell staring back at me from inside the glaringly pristine outer ceramic shell of the white throne, my throat catching, stomach doing half flips and a rather impressive rollover routine that would have gotten at least a 9.5 even from the Russian judges. Instead, I forced myself to smile and swallow and remind myself the elbow length yellow rubber gloves grasping the handle of the standard issue plunger were all that stood between me and Pooageddon.

Suck it up, Fee. Big girl panties and adulting and all that.

“At what point,” I waved the dripping plunger, wincing as droplets of yuck flew, “did I think owning a bed and breakfast was going to be glamorous and romantic?”

Fiona Fleming hasn’t lived in Reading, Vermont in over a decade, her escape from small town living leading her to New York City and a life of adventure. An adventure that has left her with no career, an ex who cheated on her and zero plans for the future. Her grandmother’s death grants her a new chance–inheriting Petunia’s, Iris Fleming’s bed and breakfast, seems like the ideal fresh start. But when Fee finds out ownership of the property Iris willed her might be in question, she’s drawn into the seedy underbelly of the cutest town in America after being singled out as the main suspect in a murder.


I love writing long series. It’s just the way I’m wired. I find it hard to let go of characters I fall in step with, especially those that really tug at my heart. And Fiona is no exception. I knew from the moment she started chatting with me in her snarky, sarcastic way we’d be hanging out together for a fair stretch. She was my kind of girl. Sharp witted, a bit awkward, genuine and full of curiosity and that natural propensity for trouble that gave me endless story fodder. But I had no idea there were twelve books in her series until she laid it all out for me.

One book for each month of the year, over a three year period, her time. Okay then, Fee. If you say so.

Nice of her to be so accommodating. Because not all of my characters are, to be honest. I have one in particular who holds back most of what I need to know, only trickling out a book at a time. Fee, on the other hand? Not a secret between us. And just as well, too. Especially since she expected me to write them all very quickly and close together.

So, the secret thing? I should have known better. I was halfway through book two when she pointed out there was actually a thirteenth and oh, apologies, had she failed to mention that?

Grumble, mumble, bossy characters and building timelines.

Mind you, I’m not really complaining. How fun is it to spend all that time in a place you start to know as well as your own hometown, with people that make you laugh or get riled up or even set you off in tears? To brand out covers and swag and paperbacks all lined in a row, readers who beg for just one more adventure, when turning off the lights of that particular world seems unfair and too painful to consider?

So. Much. Fun.

We have lots of time before I have to say goodbye. And I have a feeling she’s going to fight me tooth and nail when the day comes we reach the end of #13 and it’s over.

Because by the end of book two, Fee whispered to me that thirteen might not be enough. I think I agree with her.


Patti Larsen is an award-winning author with a passion for the voices in her head. Now with over 80 titles in happy publication, she lives on the East coast with her patient husband and multitude of pets.

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