T's Stuff: Lotta Smith’s WICKEDLY EVER AFTER: HALLOWEEN HIJINKS Book Blast

Friday, September 29, 2017

Lotta Smith’s WICKEDLY EVER AFTER: HALLOWEEN HIJINKS Book Blast

Title:
WICKEDLY EVER AFTER: HALLOWEEN HIJINKS

Author: Lotta Smith

Publisher: Independent

Pages: 213

Genre: Paranormal Cozy Mystery

As the new Mrs.
Rowling, life is supposed to be easy for former FBI Special Assistant Amanda
Meyer. Marriage to her drop dead gorgeous boss Rick is everything she dreamed
of, unfortunately she can’t sleep, and she can’t even blame the ghost of his
late stepmom Clara for popping up in the middle of the night with a tricky
request.

Someone staged mechanic Fynn’s death to look
like a suicide, and now his unhappy ghost is keeping Clara and her dead friends
awake all night. Proving he was murdered will keep the newlyweds hopping, and
the real trick will be staying alive in this hilariously wicked book in the
Manhattan Mystery Series.

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At exactly three o’clock
in the morning, I was in bed, turning over for the umpteenth time. For some
unknown reason, I couldn’t fall asleep. In fact, I didn’t have even a blink of
sleep.

Okay, so I was pretending not to know the reason for my
difficulty, but I could come up with possible reasons. For starters, I had a
little too much espresso cake after dinner and a few more cups of strong green
tea than the recommended amount at lunch. Also, in the past few hours alone, I
had at least thirteen people visit me, asking about the whereabouts of their
personal belongings and if I thought their spouses were cheating on them. All
of them happened to be former residents of this upscale condo on Fifth
Avenue in Manhattan,
where I called home. The last straw was Mrs. Williams, who kept demanding I
return her hearing aid. I kept telling her that I wasn’t the evil woman who hid
her belongings, and I shared my hunch that her family might have forgotten to
put her hearing device with her; however, she didn’t seem to fathom what I was
trying to say—perhaps because she didn’t have her hearing aid.

By the way, did I mention that all those people who visited
me during these ungodly hours had been dead for years?

My name is Amanda Rowling, née Meyer, a part-time secretary for my husband and mostly a stay-at-home
housewife, and people, including
but not limited to my husband Rick, usually call me Mandy.

Anyway, I was
trying my best to grab some sleep before dawn, not that I had to get up early
and go to work in the morning, but Rick had been busy since joining
USCAB—United States Cover All Bases, a security-based conglomerate owned and
run by his dad—and I wanted to do my best to be his super-supportive partner.
Cooking power breakfasts for him and myself had become my ritual since I moved
in with him at this condo over a year ago, and I was determined to continue
this ritual. Anyway, using knives and a hot oven in a sleep-deprived status
wasn’t high on my to-do list. I tended to commit faux-pas in the kitchen, like
scorching eggs and bacon to a crisp, whenever I was short of sleep.

Before marrying
him, I used to work for the FBI’s New York City headquarters as a special
assistant. At first, I was just an assistant with a mission to keep my
then-boss Rick Rowling, the sexy, arrogant loose cannon who loved nothing more
than trouble, from wreaking havoc and destroying NYC. However, a little after
starting my FBI career, I developed a special skill of seeing dead people and
communicating with them, and my tasks expanded to interviewing murder victims
and dead witnesses.

When Rick, who
was the head of Paranormal Cases Division and the only colleague I had, left
the feds to join his family business, I followed his suit and resigned from the
feds.

Even though
Sheldon Hernandez, the head of the FBI’s New York City headquarters, offered me
a lucrative consulting contract, I declined. At that time, leaving my life with
the FBI, communicating with dead people and dodging frequent temper tantrums
thrown at me by the deceased, and concentrating on being Mrs. Rowling seemed
like a fabulous idea. But after the wedding and returning from our honeymoon, I
wasn’t sure if I made the right decision. At that time, I presumed I’d stop
encountering the spirits of dead; however, things didn’t go as I’d hoped. I was
still having as many ghostly visitors as before.

And, recalling my
past life as an FBI assistant, I was horrified to found myself sort of missing
my days dealing with the murderers, crooks, and dead people. Okay, so having
nothing to do with criminals should be the norm for most people, and when I
left the feds, I couldn’t wait to spend my days without worrying about being
assaulted by evil ghosts and bad humans, but…

Lotta Smith is the author of Paranormal in Manhattan Mystery
series. She fell in love with mystery the moment she developed consciousness.
She is especially fond of lighthearted murder mystery stories with a little
sprinkle of romance.

She went to medical school hoping to see real corpses and sexy professors. Back
then, she was into this kind of mystery series about a smokin' hot forensic
medicine professor and a quirky female student going a-sleuthing, cracking
unsolvable cases. Lotta truly, madly wanted to team up with a superhot
professor and crack a difficult murder or two. (Note; she got to see the
corpses, but sexy professors were nonexistent.)

Lotta loves to hear from her readers. Feel free to drop her a line at
lottasmith_author@yahoo.com.