Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Welcome to Marriage With Style

Hi everyone, I hope you don’t mind meeting in my bridal boutique. You see, Henrietta Franklin is due in about thirty minutes for a fitting. She can be a bit persnickety and a regular faucet, so I don’t dare try to leave in case I can’t get back in time. I do love to talk and sometimes I find it hard to stop. You know how it is when you’re the unofficial AP for a small town.

Grab yourself some coffee. I have hot water and tea bags too. You choose. Now to why I’m here. My sister hijacked Bobbye’s blog again. You see, Trix is a bit out-of-sorts with Bobbye. Seems our author has been finishing another manuscript and not working on ours. As Trixie says, Marriage Murders is just waiting to be told. She figured it was only fitting I explain why. Okay, the plain truth forces me to fess up to the fact I threatened her beyond an inch of her life if she tried to sneak in here again and take over until I’d had my say.

Oh, my goodness, where are my manners? I’m Roxie Turner. Whatever lies my sister told you before, please ignore them. She’s still miffed I was the baby and got all the attention, not to mention I am only in my early forties while she’s twelve years older and facing senility. Oh, and then there’s the fact she’s married to Floyd, the Great White Couch Potato, while I am the gay widow. Gay as in happy, let’s not spread any rumors.

Now, as Trix told you, I’m sure, because she just blurts out everything she knows, our first book in the Briny Bay Mysteries, Buried in Briny Bay, comes out in mid-March from Turquoise Morning Press. The second book will tell the story of my lead role in solving the mystery of my marriage party’s murders. Why would anyone murder the groom, much less start picking off other members in the same wedding? It was a mite deadly for a while, but not half as explosive as my cat-war with one Marlowe Malone. Snarling red-nailed she-lion. That woman better leave my Greg Norris alone. Okay, maybe he doesn’t know the full extent of my affections and the fact I’ve laid full-fledge claim to him, but women have to keep their secrets, you know.

I suppose I’ve jumped too far ahead. First you need to join me as I get out of my tussle and a jail sentence for the murder of Georgia Collins. A fortune teller told me my life would be full of excitement, but she never told me what kind.
Whoops! Gotta go now, I hear Bobbye coming back with a cup of tea. She’s such a Southern lady. See ya’!

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