Love Hertz
Silver Hills Cozy Mysteries Book 9
Come to Silver Hills. Where making friends can prove deadly and making enemies might be easier than you think.
Emotions are aflutter at Silver Hills as a new heartthrob moves into the residence. Will all that fluttering still a single heart? And if love dies, will Flo’s very own amour find itself in the crosshairs of the estimable Detective Brent Peters?
Agnes and Hertz are on the outs. Secrets tear the tender fabric of a pulsing heart. What do the secrets have to do with murder?
Affairs of le cœur aside, will Agnes break the clothing store shopping for a party dress? What will break during a rousing class of Zumba? And will Flo be able to soldier through her dance injuries to follow a chubby cherub to a killer?
So many questions. So much hopping, tapping and fluttering. And still a murder to solve.
What will Flo and Co. do?
They’ll do what they always do, of course. Hearts out and chins up, they’re goin’ in!
"(This book) needs a warning with it. Tissue (needed) to wipe away tears of laughter!!!!"
More from this series
Praise for the series
Read an Excerpt
“Does this come with a space helmet?” Agnes asked, her beefy arms held out to her sides and her expression filled with horror.
Flo and TC pressed their lips together, but Celia snorted out a laugh. “Maybe the silver wasn’t a good choice.”
Agnes stood in front of the three-way mirror, tugging at the ruched side seam of the asymmetrical cocktail dress. The high side of the hem hit her two inches above a wide, dimpled knee, and the long side stuck out a couple of inches below the other knee. The neckline was also asymmetrical and it was accentuated by silvery folds that poked up from the neckline like space lace. “All I need is a blaster pistol and I could capture the spaceport for the alliance.”
Flo and TC let their giggles escape. Agnes’ lips curved upward in a slow grin.
“I think a helmet would be a nice touch,” TC gasped out. “You could attach lace to the front instead of a visor.”
They all burst out laughing, earning them the unwanted attention of the crabby sales lady. She’d been the source of the ugly dress, her tastes seemingly running toward the dreadful and bizarre. The fact that she was wearing her own spacesuit in shiny pink seemed proof of her questionable taste. “How are we doing, ladies?” he saleslady asked, her expression barely friendly.
“I think we need something less…” Ce fluttered her fingers on the air, searching in vain for the right word.
Agnes supplied it for her. “Ugly,” she said, sending the other three into fits of laughter.
The sales woman’s face puckered like she’d sucked a lemon. “I see. Well, we could go with something basic and black. I had assumed you wouldn’t want to look like everyone else.”
Agnes snorted. “I’d settle for looking like someone from this galaxy.”
Sniffing her disgust at their pedestrian natures, the woman inclined her head. “I’ll bring some more choices to the room.”
The next outfit looked like something Willy Wonka would have rejected as an outfit for the Oompa-Loompas. It was a white tunic with giant pink polka dots, the sleeves voluminous and frothy and the hemline sewn with one-inch-wide golden rickrack.
“I haven’t seen rickrack since I was seven years old,” Celia said, clapping her hands in delight.
The pants that matched the tunic were hot pink and came to a spot midway down Agnes’ calves, where it flared away from her leg, sporting more of the ugly gold rickrack.
Agnes cocked her head to the side and seemed to seriously be considering the garish outfit.
Flo thought she might puncture a lung, trying not to laugh.
“I’m just not sure what shoes I’d wear with this.”
“I kind of like the puffy silver boots you tried on with the spacesuit,” TC added helpfully.
“No,” Ce said. “Black pumps will provide just the right statement.”
“What statement is that?” Agnes asked with an arch of one eyebrow. “I’m a complete idiot?”
