Tuesday, November 13, 2018

What is a Lowchen?

In my newest cozy mystery there is a Lowchen. If you are a fan of the Hart to Hart series, then you've seen one. Here is Charlie the dog who played Freeway, a very famous Lowchen.






Photo courtesy of Pinterest but I'm sure it came from ABC, NBC, or Hallmark Studies and has made the rounds to dog lovers everywhere.

Tuesday, October 30, 2018

Shared World Q&A and first chapter of Mourning Express

Hey, hey Happy Readers! 

After I sent out my last newsletter with preorder information on Mourning Express, I got a few questions in return. Mostly, what is a shared world and how does it work as a series? I hope this short Q&A helps!

Q - Your book says number three in the series and I usually start from book 1, but you say we can read this series in any order. How is this series different?

A - Most cozy mystery series are written by one author and feature one main sleuth. In a shared world, each book in the series is written by a different author with a different sleuth.

Q - How are they connected if they are all different?

A - The shared world has a few fixed connections. Like with The Funeral Fakers, each sleuth works for a company called Exit Stage Left out of Asheville, NC. Also, each sleuth is a former or failed actress who chooses to use their talents to professionally mourn. They each receive an assignment from their boss, Ruthie Colburn, and from there stumble into a mystery.

Q - So, I don't have to start with book 1?

A - Nope. You can start with book 6 and work backwards. But I definitely recommend starting with book 1, Mourning Routine, since it debuts November 2nd. Unless you've preordered the entire bundle from Sweet Promise Press, you'll have to wait for each book to release on a Friday throughout November and December.

Q - Why should I buy the preorder bundle instead of preording them separately on Amazon?

A - Once the first book debuts this coming Friday, The Funeral Fakers series will only be available from Amazon and in the Kindle Unlimited program. Buying directly from Sweet Promise Press means you can get all the books on November 2nd in a bundle in the format of your choosing. Also, there's a discount to buying direct from Sweet Promise Press. You'll save $10 off of the total purchase price of all six books. That's like getting two books free!! [click here to preorder the bundle today!]

Still not sure if The Funeral Fakers series is right for you? Here's a sample first chapter of Mourning Express that I hope will help make your reading decision easier.

Happy Reading! ~K.M. Waller



Chapter One


Gabriel Medina, special effects makeup artist extraordinaire and my best friend, dabbed goo on my cheek that looked like a mixture between snot and pus. A frown formed between his eyes—one I’d seen at least a hundred times. He regarded the work on my face with a professional eye squint, brushing something oozy near my nose. “Let’s run your lines again.”
A drop of the sludge landed on my bottom lip, and I prayed it wouldn’t work its way into my mouth or I’d be on the way to gag-city. “It’s ‘arrggh’ and ‘ugggh.’ I think I can handle it, Gabe.”
“No sarcasm, Rosie. And don’t forget to drag your left leg. The left, got it? The director is a little high-strung and very particular about zombie limp.” He glanced around the makeup trailer where the other zombie extras were getting final checks for their hair. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “And try to change your voice just a little.”
“There’s no way anyone will recognize me in all this zombie goop.” I glanced in the mirror. The makeup looked as if half my face had been eaten away. It reminded me of the quick and messy decay of my acting career. If only Grammy could see me now. I’d also colored my blonde locks a deep golden brown, gained twenty pounds, and used my legal last name again instead of the stage one my former agent insisted upon. The only people who recognized me now had known me as both the freckle-faced gangly teen from Asheville, North Carolina and the actress I’d become in my mid-to-late twenties.
Gabe wiped his makeup brushes down with a cleaning solution and placed them in his tool kit. Still making a name for himself since he’d won season five of the reality show, Monster Makeup Challenge, being associated with someone the press had coined Disaster Diva Rosalind Devoe could put a stain on his career.
All my other friends from L.A. deserted me at the first sign of scandal. But not Gabe. Best friends since our moms had met on a cheesy soap opera in the late 90s, he was the type of friend who called me on my birthday and the anniversary of Mom’s death. Plus every few days in between.
I grabbed his forearm, careful not to smear the fake blood applied to my hand. “I appreciate you pulling some strings and getting me on the set. Especially since I can’t be more than a few hours’ drive from Grammy. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”
A smile worked away the worry on his face, but sympathy filled his brown eyes. “Have the police found any leads on your brother yet?”
A hard sigh escaped my lips making the goo travel from my lip to my chin. How often did a twin turn out to be evil? There had to be a statistical study on this somewhere. And if that study paid a premium price I’d volunteer for it in a heartbeat. “I’m sure Victor’s in some non-extradition country. But I don’t want to think about him right now. I want to work. It feels good to be back.”
I meant that. Even if this particular job meant dragging my left leg through pine needles and North Georgia tick-country as a zombie extra on a low-budget Sci-Fi flick. I loved acting and giving myself over to being another character. I loved being an actress and all the fun that came along with it. Well, used to come along with it. But I could get there again. After my chaotic life settled, I’d get back to L.A. and start over.
A sound check guy came in and twisted wires through my bra and clamped a mic pack around my waist. He lingered a little too long with his hands beneath my tattered shirt, and I lowered my voice and added a bit more southern twang than usual. “You about done there, fella?”
The guy mumbled something unintelligible from beneath a thick, unruly mustache and backed away.
Gabe took a long sip out of a Styrofoam cup and winked at an extra getting her hair teased at the other end of the trailer.
“You’re such a flirt.”
“What can I say? The girls love my interesting choice of career.” He waited until the sound check guy moved on to the next zombie before he started with more questions. His breath smelled of vanilla flavored coffee. “So, we can’t talk about your brother?”
I tugged my shirt back into place. “Nope.”
“The lawsuits?”
I shuddered. “Uh uh.”
“Your living situation?”
I tilted my head from side to side weighing my words carefully. “It’s bearable. You’d be surprised how easy it is to avoid someone who works shifts. I’d prefer you for a full-time roomie, though.”
A P.A. leaned inside the trailer. “We’re doing a rehearsal and the director wants all the zombies on set.”
I winked at Gabe and curtseyed. “Extend to me the most affectionate of well wishes, my good sir.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Don’t screw it up.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Nice.”
I followed three other zombie extras through a maze of trailers to the marked filming location. The sun had yet to come up fully and a chorus of crickets and other nightly insects buzzed near the spotlights that cast a glow on a clearing between tall pine trees. The zombie next to me swatted a mosquito on his arm and the smack against the liquid latex made a squishy sucking sound.
The anxiety of being on set again and the grossness of the costumes had my stomach tied into a knot. I closed my eyes and quietly began my vocal warm-ups to calm my nerves. “Mmmmmmmm Ah. Mmmmmmmm Ah. Mmmmmmmmm Ah.”
The extra beside me nudged me with her elbow. “What are you doing?”
I tried to smile through the latex. “Vocal warm-ups.”
“Should I be doing those too?” Worry clouded her young eyes. She wore a scalp cap with shots of black hair sticking out in messy clumps, making her hair look like it’d been ripped out in chunks.
“Not all actors use them. I like to because it helps keep me calm.”
“Oh, okay. I’m so nervous. This is my first acting job and I don’t want to screw it up.” She fluttered her hands and took an exceedingly large breath. “Who knew that only this morning I’d been bagging down at the Piggly Wiggly, and now I’m in a real movie.”
She began a litany of off-key hums but I interrupted her. “Bagging? You mean groceries?” I took a step back to get a good look at my new zombie friend. “You’re not a working actress?”
Walk-on extras usually didn’t get the full special effects makeup application. And I should know. I’d spent my first entire year in Hollywood with walk on roles.
The guy on the other side of me leaned in. His right arm had been tucked into his shirt to make him appear as if it had been eaten off. “None of us are. Some casting guy drove around town this morning and picked a few people he thought would make good zombies. Where they’d find you?”
A question I did not want to answer. “Hmm.”
The assistant director’s voice boomed over a loud speaker. “Rehearsal’s up.”
“Rehearsal’s up.” The P.A. repeated the announcement and approached us. “Zombies on set. Line up, please.”
The other extras and I lined up in a staggered position at the far end of the clearing. The August humidity surrounded us, and a natural fog layered the ground. Along with the tattered shirt I wore a skirt I’d pulled as far down as possible to cover the back of my thighs. A few drops of sweat formed on my upper lip and I hoped it wouldn’t dislodge the perfectly placed zombie makeup.
I twisted my foot and locked my knee to give it a good drag-like quality. The director, last name Stephenson, who I’d been careful not to cross paths with since arriving, made a semi-circle around us. I’d never met him before, but I didn’t want to take the chance he’d read a few tabloids about Disaster Diva Rosalind.
He backed away slowly, putting several feet between us. “Action,” he yelled.
I started forward, my mouth hanging slack. “Argh, ugh.” Then I switched it up. “Ugh, argh.”
The Piggly Wiggly bagger stayed frozen in place. I wanted to nudge her, but one of the many rules of acting dictated I do my job no matter what until the director yelled “cut.”
It didn’t take long.
“Cut!” Stephenson stormed past me to the frozen extra. “What is wrong with you?”
His condescending tone bit through my anxiety and raised my hackles a bit. I glanced across the camera staging area and caught of a glimpse of Gabe. He slowly shook his head as if to say keep your head down and don’t get involved.
Right. Think of Grammy. Think of the back due rent. Think of the paycheck at the end of the day.
The girl squeaked out an apology. She held her arms out in front of her and woodenly took a few steps forward.
“This isn’t Bride of Frankenstein nitwit. If you can’t walk in a straight line for five lousy minutes, then maybe you should head back to the trailer park where we found you.” The director’s voice echoed in the trees and someone behind me let out an uncomfortable cough.
I glanced around again. No one was going to intervene on her behalf?
I edged my way closer to the girl’s side. She sniffed and held her trembling lips together tightly. I could not abide bullies who made people cry. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Gabe waving his arms, but I chose to ignore him. An attempt to reason with the director couldn’t hurt. “Why don’t you give her another chance? She’s pretty new at this.”
He cut his gaze at me but refocused on his target. “So now you’re crying, too.” He threw his arms wide. “I didn’t ask for crybaby zombies.”
“Maybe if you’d hired professionals instead of cheaping out with the locals…” As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I’d fluffed it up. Men like him hyped up the stereotypes that gave anyone associated with Hollywood a bad name. But actresses who argued with directors got the worst rap of them all. I should know this by now.
Stephenson snapped his fingers at the assistant director. My gaze travelled over to Gabe who lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug of defeat. We’d been around the business long enough to know what happened next. Extras who mouthed off got fired. Without pay.
“Replace these two,” he said, pointing at me and the Piggly Wiggly bagger. “Now!”
He turned his back to us, ending any further discussion. Good. I didn’t want to work for a jerk anyway. I wrapped an arm around Piggly Wiggly and guided her toward the makeup trailer. “Let’s get this junk off of us and go grab a few days’ worth of the food from the catering truck.”
We plodded by Gabe and when he opened his mouth, I held up a hand. “Not a word.”
Back at the trailer, I grabbed my phone while I waited in line for the makeup removal process. Gabe would stay on set to oversee the non-fired actors’ zombie goo.
He’d sent me a text. Need gas money to get home?
The three-and-a-half-hour drive had taken a chunk out of my limited funds put aside for job searching. I had needed this quick paycheck to help make rent this month. But I had a few dollars left in my pocket and I’d stretch them to the limit before I’d let Gabe loan me gas money.
I’m good call me later, I texted back.
Before I could put the cell phone in my pocket, it trilled with the ringtone I’d picked out for Grammy’s assisted living facility. They only called this early in the morning for one reason. I stepped out of the trailer to answer the call.
“Hello, Miss Rosie?” The nurse called everyone by their first name and Miss, Mrs., or Mr. It didn’t matter that she was thirty years my senior and I should be the one addressing her that way.
“Hi, Pearl. How are you this morning?”
The sweet nurse appreciated pleasantries before getting down to assisted living facility business.
“I am quite well, and I do appreciate you asking.” A short pause followed. “However, your sweet Grammy is refusing to have breakfast without a show. And you know how important it is to keep her blood sugar regulated.”
I dipped my head in defeat. “Did she eat last night?”
Another long pause. “One of our nursing assistants thinks dinner ended up in Burt Lancaster Jr.’s dog food bowl.”
“I’m across the line in Georgia, but I’ll be there before y’all serve lunch. Thanks for calling.”
So much for loading up on the free food before hitting the road. I changed out of the costume but didn’t wait for the zombie makeup removal. It would brighten my mood slightly if I could cause slight panic on the highway from unsuspecting motorists who happened to look over.

I glanced at my reflection in the rearview mirror. There had to be a better way to make some fast cash. 

Mark it TO READ on Goodreads!!

Friday, September 21, 2018

Book trailer for Funeral Fakers!

Check out the coolest video for the upcoming Funeral Fakers Mystery series from Sweet Promise Press! Coming in November.

Saturday, July 21, 2018

Up and Away to Murder: A Comic Book Mystery

What's this? Another mystery in the works? Yes! Although this mystery is coming along very slowly so I've decided to put it up as a serial on Wattpad. What's Wattpad? A free reading site. Lots to discover from awesome authors all over the world. If you are interested in following along on this one chapter at a time journey, click the Wattpad link and make sure to hit the follow button.


Up and Away to Murder: A Comic Book Store Mystery

Odelia "Odie" McFadden is used to being conned into following her best friend, Dee, into trouble. Although she allows Dee to set up her private investigation practice in the spare room of Odie's comic book store, Up and Away Comics, Odie vows to stay out of the investigative affairs and stick to what she knows: comic books.

When Dee's newest case takes an unexpected turn, she ends up with a dead client and becomes a resident at the local intensive care unit. Odie's guilt for not backing up Dee is massive, but her curiosity is stoked when she uncovers Dee's deceased client is connected to Odie's comic book store.

Odie's knowledge of the client, and the comic book world, opens doors that would be closed to normal investigators. After all, the geek community is a tight one. With the help of her best friend's experienced P.I. brothers, and sister-in-law, Odie slowly sharpens her investigative skills to uncover a web of professional jealousy, corporate espionage, and conspiracy theory hungry fans willing to do anything for the deceased. 

To solve the murder and find justice for Dee's assault, Odie must upgrade her status from side kick to heroine.

CLICK HERE TO READ MORE ON WATTPAD

Thursday, July 12, 2018

Fan Art Thursday

My biggest fan (also my 11 yr old daughter) made this amazing drawing of Amira and Lex. Isn't it the cutest? And it fits the cutesy, cozy vibes of the Lost Souls ParaAgency books so well. It's inspired by the scene where the candle keeps flickering behind Lex's back in the Tea Haven when they first meet. I hope it gives you a smile!


Friday, June 29, 2018

I'm so "Pointer Sisters" Excited about the Funeral Fakers

And I just can't hide it! Do I have you singing in your head or out loud now? Good. Mission accomplished. Also, I definitely just showed my age right there. But enough of that and on with the good news.

I recently signed a contract with Sweet Promise Press to write a book in their Funeral Fakers series. These books will be cozy mysteries set in North Carolina. Not paranormal, but just as cutesy and cozy as my Lost Souls ParaAgency series.

What is a Funeral Faker you ask? Here's the description from the site:

Out of work actresses are employed by a Personal Mourning firm within the area to act as bereaved friends/relatives/occasional partners of the deceased during funerals/wakes/memorial services and afterward.

Is that a real thing? Yes. Yes, it is. Here's an article from a real faker who states this is a growing industry in some countries. "I'm a Professional Mourner."

The series will debut in November and there will be six authors in the initial debut from November to December. I'm excited about this opportunity and I really hope you'll grab the books as soon as they release.

For more information on Sweet Promise Press, you can join their newsletter mailing list or Facebook group.

Happy Reading!


Sunday, May 27, 2018

The Jordie Files: Episode #1 Now Available!

My newsletter and Facebook group exclusive short story is here! Do you love Lex's assistant Jordie as much as I do? Then you'll love this short story that follows his own side adventures.

Welcome to the Lost Souls ParaAgency, where agents work together to ensure the safety of humans and prevent exposure of the paranormal community. 

The Assignment—check in on a missing sheepsquatch.

Jordie Small is ready to break out of his assistant status and take on a role as a full-fledged agent. But first, he has some minor assignments to complete.

To get your FREE copy of The Jordie Files: Episode #1, either join my newsletter mailing list OR join my Facebook Group: The LSP Reader's Group.
After a double-opt in on the mailing list, the email will have an Instafreebie link for the download.
In the Files section of the Facebook Group, the document will have the Instafreebie link.

Monday, April 23, 2018

Read Chapter One of LSP and the Ghostly Reunion

It's almost here!! Lost Souls ParaAgency and the Ghostly Reunion will release sometime this week. What's going on with Amira and Lex? Check out the first chapter for a sneak peek. Happy reading! ~Kizzie

Chapter One: The Assignment

Ghostly haunts
and ghostly taunts
A familiar face
for Samuel Chase awaits


After several moments of silence following the pronouncement, Amira Walker glanced up from her notebook and stared at the man across the desk. The cream-colored parchment in the director’s hand exploded into a confetti mist with a muffled poof. From the colorful mini-explosion and the horrid attempt at rhymes, the personality of the assigner reminded her of her youngest sister, Ris. Vibrant, explosive, unpredictable.
The pink, blue, purple, and yellow remnants landed on the desk, and Sparsh raked the paper puddle into a black wastebasket. He wore a stern expression, a black, tailored three-piece suit, and a tie with bright yellow pineapples over a rainbow background. The first time she’d seen Sparsh, she’d jokingly called him the agency’s Bosley. But no iteration of the man from the Charlie’s Angels television series or movies was a powerful warlock that distributed secret paranormal assignments. The intimidation factor was high.
He’d read the rhyme twice in his deep, monotone voice.
Calex Dimas, Lex for short, her senior partner and kind of boyfriend, leaned back in the chair beside her, his easy demeanor belying the keen wit and sharp intuition she’d seen in action firsthand when she’d met him three weeks ago. “I didn’t think we’d be hearing Samuel Chase’s name again so soon. Can’t the Council come up with a few more lines of instruction so we can have a better understanding of what’s happening?”
The rhyme came from seers inside the Council on Crimes Against Humans. They then employed the LSP to handle the assignments.
Sparsh ignored the question and clicked away on his desktop computer. The printer behind him churned to life and spit out sheets of paper.
Amira clicked the top of her pen in and out three times. Poofs and rhymes and magic, oh my. Just another day at Lost Souls ParaAgency. She was a long way from her tea shop in her hometown of Burberry, South Carolina. Well, not too far actually, since the LSP office was located just west of Savannah, Georgia and therefore only a couple of hours drive south.
With her free hand, she smoothed the top of her skirt. A tickle of anxiety trickled down her spine when she thought how little she knew about the agency or the Council that employed them. Since entering LSP’s headquarters a half hour ago, she’d seen less than five people milling about in the stark, undecorated hallways on the surface level. The main thing she knew for certain was that they kept the paranormal community a secret from regular humans as well as protected humans from bad paranormals. She agreed with their overall mission, even if she didn’t agree with all of their enforcement tactics. The three-page strongly worded letter she and her middle sister Ally had penned to the LSP outlined all of their grievances and suggested ways of improvement.
When she’d asked Lex about training, she’d received a manual through overnight delivery. Apparently, the assignment she’d interfered with in her hometown the month prior had been the only on-the-job training they intended to provide. Being on her home turf and surrounded by her witch family had been a major bonus for that incident. With shaky confidence, she wondered if she could handle what came next.
She suppressed her doubts and reminded herself that the part-time job with the LSP would help keep her sisters safe and off the Council’s radar. That took priority above all else.
Her gaze wandered around the room and settled on Lex’s profile. The Council and LSP had sent Lex to her town to find a bad witch. After a good amount of confusion and a wrongful accusation, they’d worked together as a team to find the culprit creating magical chaos. She’d also fallen for him. Hard. Unfortunately, they’d had their first and last real date the night they’d solved the Burberry case after he’d asked her to join the agency. Since then, their late night conversations during his visits had centered on personal security and which alarm system would best fit her lifestyle. She appreciated his almost constant concern, but had hoped for a tad more in the romance department.
That alone was a good enough reason not to put a label on their relationship this early on. But add in her three spell-casting, meddling great-aunts who wanted nothing more than for her to marry him and have his babies as soon as possible to guarantee the future of the family magic, and she wondered if she and Lex really fell into the “meant to be” category. Amira saved those depressing thoughts for a late night tub of ice cream.
She cleared her throat to redirect her thinking and focus on what she could control—being an invaluable part of the agency team. “If the assignment is so vague, why does it have to poof Mission: Impossible style?”
“The ‘poof’ connects the magic to the amulet, and once Lex places it around his neck, the Council will automatically be notified that the assignment has been accepted,” Sparsh answered, his tone matter-of-fact. He collected the printed documents and slipped them into a manila folder. “As to the vagueness—that’s not my department.”
Amira’s tingle of anxiety returned at the mention of the Council. Sparsh and Lex’s grandfather were convinced a coup within the Council simmered below the surface, and the troublemakers had grand designs on becoming less human-friendly.
Sparsh stood and handed an opened black jewelry box to Lex. The amulet adorned with a golden stone in the center would give them a magical “power up” on their assignment. The amulet could be used as a tracking device and had other magical properties that could come in handy in a pinch.
This one was different from the one Lex used during the assignment where they’d met. That necklace had produced a zing between Lex and herself every time they’d touched. Fun, yet distracting.
Not that she’d be an advocate for magic.
Amira reached for the sparrow dangling from a silver chain around her neck, her mom’s talisman a constant reminder of the unpredictability and all too often tragic consequences of spell-casting. Even though she’d agreed to improve her magic by training with her great-aunts once a week, she still preferred to stick to her wits and newfound ability to doggedly uncover the truth before resorting to spells to solve problems. And since she and Lex had recently discovered that the Council wanted the Walker sisters for their magical abilities for unknown reasons, she planned to only use magic when absolutely necessary.
“So if the magic connects with the amulet,” she asked, “then that means this is a real haunting, right? Like how Lex knew that there was a bad witch in Burberry?”
Sparsh raised one of the caterpillar-ish eyebrows camped out on his forehead and sat back down. “Determining if the ghost is real or fake will be part of your investigation. Do you have your manual with you? On page two hundred sixty-one, you’ll find the protocol for spectral hauntings.”
One of the many issues in her and Ally’s letter to the agency—vagueness of assignments.
“There’s a manual for this job?” Lex chuckled, drawing an eye roll from Sparsh.
“Your former assistant must have read it for you,” the other man answered, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
Sparsh has some sass hidden under his starched collar.
Amira stared at her two lines of notes again. She drew a frowny face with vampire fangs near Samuel’s name. In Burberry, the scripted television ghost-hunter had tried to blackmail her and her sisters into becoming a “real lives of witches” reality show. “How does this work since we’ve met Samuel Chase? Will the mind-erasure hold for the duration of the assignment?”
“For that reason alone, it’s too risky of a case.” Lex interjected before Sparsh could open his mouth. “Even if the LSP erased his memories and that of his crew, they might have missed someone, and being recognized could blow our cover. An errant cameraman they forgot could expose us.”
She slanted her eyes toward Lex, but not to take in the crisp lines of his beige button up shirt that added an unhealthy dose of sex appeal. His objections irked her. They were partners, and she should have a say in whether they accepted a case. “I’m more curious to know why Samuel would have a legitimate ghost problem. I heard he retired from ghost hunting after the Burberry fiasco. The stress gave him a gray hair or something.”
For the first time since she’d been shown into Sparsh’s office, Lex angled his body toward her and gave her his full attention. “Attempted murder might do that to some people.”
She waved her pen with a flick of her wrist. “I think our witch was just trying to teach him a lesson.”
His lips formed a half-smile. “Which was?”
She mimicked his smile, wishing she’d put on another coat of lip gloss in the lobby as his gaze traveled to her mouth. “Don’t tick off a witch.”
His smile fell and he lowered his lids over his brown eyes. Due to family drama of his own, Lex would never be a big fan of witches in general.
Sparsh set a file folder down on his desk and pushed it toward Lex. “Mr. Chase has indeed retired and opened a bed and breakfast north of Atlanta. Ironically, it’s now haunted, but the occupants have kept it low-key. This wouldn’t have come on our radar if the Council hadn’t sent the assignment.”
Lex cut his gaze toward Sparsh. “Which is odd for a television personality who makes a living off of fake ghost encounters. Something isn’t right about this case.”
“This has become a high priority job.” Sparsh said. “Our tellers foresee an incident as soon as this weekend. There’s no time for a complex set up, and your history with the ghost hunter puts you ahead of the game. Celebrities like him get more attention than the average ghost chaser, so this needs to be debunked and silenced ASAP.”
Lex pushed the file back toward Sparsh. “Send another team. I don’t want to end up in a tabloid magazine. We’ll wait for something else.”
Sparsh pushed the file back with one finger. “Your grandfather says it has to be you.”
The atmosphere in the room shifted as Lex leaned forward, losing all of his relaxed posture at the mention of his grandfather. “Why am I not surprised? I still don’t think this is a good first assignment for Amira.”
“Are you saying I can’t handle a ghost?” She’d done a pretty good job of handling Samuel just a few weeks ago.
He tossed his hands wide. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”
She bit the inside of her cheek. Goddesses alive, were they having their first argument as an almost couple? She ended it quickly by reaching forward and grabbing the amulet. She tugged the leather throng over her head. “There. Assignment accepted.”
She patted it twice, and then removed it and put it in the black box.
Lex’s mouth gaped open.
Sparsh tapped his fingers on the desk, the corners of his eyes crinkling as if he wanted to smile. “Moving on. Amira, your insurance benefits paperwork needs to be filled out in human resources. Tippie will show you down to sublevel four.” He cleared his throat with a few ahems and shifted in his chair. “And… You both need to fill out the Consensual Romance in the Workplace Agreement.”
Lex grunted out a strangled noise.
She blinked several times as her cheeks warmed. A pre-typed form would definitely put a label on their relationship.
Sparsh glanced between them and settled his gaze on the top of his desk. He picked up a few files and placed them back in the same position. “I don’t do relationship counseling. I only hand out the assignments. Can LSP count on you two as a team?”
Amira held her features still, not giving in to the disappointment of Lex choking instead of gallantly professing his affection for her in front of Sparsh. “Absolutely.”

Saturday, April 14, 2018

Do You Like Short Stories?

Let me rephrase that question a bit. Do you like weird short stories? If so, I have a few up on Wattpad - a free reading site.

These shorts don't quite fit with my LSP or romance worlds, but I think some readers might enjoy them.

Go here to read: https://www.wattpad.com/user/KizMizWaller

And feel free to follow me! I follow back.

Enjoy ~ Kizzie

What is a Lowchen?

In my newest cozy mystery there is a Lowchen. If you are a fan of the Hart to Hart series, then you've seen one. Here is Charlie the dog...