By Alesia Holliday
There is not anything LIKE DECEMBER IN FLORIDA! while a attorney who’s smarter than she appears and extra obdurate than anyone expects opens a solo perform in small city Florida, she takes at the tremendous drug corporation that killed the spouse of her first significant purchaser. In her struggle for justice, she encounters a kleptomaniac seasoned bono patron, an Armani-clad bullfighter ally, a poker-champ neighbor who bakes cookies, and a P.I. so sizzling he makes her reconsider her No undesirable Boys Rule . . . yet she by no means suspects she may possibly finally end up actually guffawing herself to dying.
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Extra resources for Blondes Have More Felons (December Vaughn Mysteries)
And to Jenny Crusie, for so graciously allowing us all to play. Catherine Chant, who was kind enough to bid on having a character named after her. Here's wishing that your own characters find their way into print very soon. As always, to Judd for patience, cheerleading, and support. To Connor, who is my research assistant and biggest fan. And to Lauren, who is a writer like Mommy. Hove you all more than the universe. Finally, to all the lawyers with whom I've ever worked. Some of you were brilliant examples, and some were terrible warnings.
I don't want to stand around all day. I'm burning up. " He swiped at the sweat dripping off his face with one beefy arm and rubbed it on his shirt. I snatched the clipboard out of his other hand, wishing I had sanitary wipes or rubber gloves, and stabbed the pen at the paper. One lousy U-Haul. Where the hell was my furniture? Mike probably forgot to put it in his daily planner, which meant it would never happen. This was a man who literally wrote "Brush teeth" in his daily planner. Every single day.
Ellison burst out of the file room door. Great. I'd almost forgotten about him. "I took the bus to get here, and there's all sorts of weirdos on the bus. Not so's you people would notice," he added, aiming his chin at Max. " "I don't really have time to . . Oh, fine. Let's go. But do you really need a sweater? It's June in Florida. " I studied him as he pulled on the thick cardigan. His belt had surrendered to migration and rested snugly under his armpits. I'm so not even going to discuss the black socks/white shoes combination.