Foxgloves, Fancy Fungus, and Fatal Family Feuds by JL Wilson

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  • Deadly Landscaping Series

    Cassie Whittington's inheritance of fifteen million dollars has been put on hold while vengeful family members contest the will. But the potential loss of wealth is the least of her worries -- her ex-husband has re-entered her life and is wreaking havoc on her relationship with Sam Barlow, her boss at the landscape company. Cassie has to make a choice: return to her old life with Charlie or start a new life with Sam. An added complication is a police investigation involving Livvie, Cassie's dearest friend, and Livvie's fiance, who is accused of murdering the head chef at a prestigious local restaurant. Truffles and treachery may combine, preventing Cassie from making any choices ever again....

    (Pages 250) Spicy
    Word Count 70500
    Print ISBN: 1-60154-912-1


    The man wore a prosthesis, an artificial right arm ending in a hook sticking out from his blue plaid flannel shirt under his denim jacket. When he saw Livvie, he took a step back. “What are you doing here, Liv?”

    My first thought was, how can this guy be a cook? He’s got a hook. He’s a cook with a hook. I plastered a smile on my face and prayed I wouldn’t giggle.

    “Cassie, this is T.J. Watson,” Livvie said. “Tom, this is Cassie Whittington.”

    I automatically held out my right hand then stopped, embarrassed. He smiled and held out his left hand, taking mine in an awkward but firm grip. “Good to meet you.” He had a low, rough voice with a trace of Texas or some other American West state. “Olivia’s talked a lot about you. She was right. You do look like Gidget.”

    I shot Livvie a disgruntled look. My resemblance to Sally Fields has haunted me all my life. I hoped when my hair turned gray it might change, but apparently it didn’t.

    “What are you folks doing here?” he asked.

    Livvie said hesitantly, “I was worried when you said you couldn’t come. Is something wrong?”

    T.J. looked back at the building behind him. “Yeah, I think you could say that.” His voice sounded almost bemused.

    I peered around him. “Is there a problem—” I took an involuntary step forward when I saw what I thought I saw. “Is that—” I leaned to one side.

    A body lay on the floor just inside the door, a pool of blood making a dark stain in the chest of the white chef’s uniform.


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Foxgloves, Fancy Fungus, and Fatal Family Feuds

Foxgloves, Fancy Fungus, and Fatal Family Feuds

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