Mourning Commute

The Funeral Fakers Book 2

Restrained Crying: $50
Banshee Wailing: $100
Crying & Rolling on the Ground: $150
Threatening to Jump in the Grave: $250
Uncovering a Murder Mystery: PRICELESS

May Ferth was born with stars in her eyes, but apparently not her future. Never able to break past the community theater, she’s overjoyed to finally land a role that comes with a paycheck: Professional Mourning for the win!

And in her first performance, she shines as the fake girlfriend of a professional crime scene cleaner. Unfortunately, this time she shines just a bit too bright. Now everyone suspects that she might have played more than a bit part in her pretend boyfriend’s death!

Luckily for her, May comes from a family of cops. And, despite her talent for acting, she has a lot more Detective in her than Diva. Unluckily, however, the threats become all too real as May gets closer to shining a spotlight on the real villain.

Can May rewrite the ending of this staged play or will this be her final bow? Find out whodunit in this hilarious mystery series filled with fake tears and a very real body count... Order your copy and start reading today!

Praise for Mourning Commute

KarenE

 GOSH you don’t want to be taking a drink while read some (alot) of these pages. Ms. Cheever has a way with words and ideas sometimes we say we would like to be a fly on the wall in certain situations and you are definitely that. This is a clean and hilariously funny story between lagh out loud snorting tea and trying to figure how the story is going to go this is an ABSOLUTE must for your library.

Nan

What a fantastic treat! The wonderfully bizarre premise of working as a professional mourner serves as a springboard for a mystery full of twists and turns and a new partnership that I hope gets to solve more cases. Sam Cheever has a talent for creating fun, likable characters who might not always know exactly what to do but always muddle through somehow. And usually with a wisecrack or two.

Shari

I LOVE Sam's books. I haven't read one I didn't thoroughly enjoy. This book was no exception. I absolutely loved it. The characters had me drawn in from the beginning. I so enjoyed May's job, professional mourner, and her spunky quick mind. To compliment her, we get to meet Eddie. I so want to see more of these two together. The mystery had me guessing until close to the end. It was so well written. I finished it in just a few hours. Read this book. You will not be disappointed!

Read an Excerpt

I tucked the tiny bottle of fake tears more deeply into my tissue and sniffed daintily, scoping out the assembled crowd of mourners with a practiced eye. My baby blues caught on a handsome, dark-haired man standing back from the rest, and I did one of those embarrassing jerk-away things with my eyes, hoping he didn’t notice me noticing him again.

He totally noticed me.

He’d been staring at me since I’d arrived at the viewing an hour earlier. And his expression was anything but friendly. Somehow my eyes kept traveling to him, though I swear on the life of my spunky Pomeranian, Shakespeare, that it was pure accident.

I wasn’t ogling the mourners.

Really, I wasn’t.

Of its own volition, my gaze accidentally slipped over the spot where he’d been again, and I blinked.

He was gone.

To cover my surprise, I turned to the elderly woman next to me and let my bottom lip quiver. I gave a practiced little sob and squeezed the fake tears in my tissue just as a big hand landed on my shoulder.

I yelped, gripped the tiny bottle as if it was the only thing keeping me from plunging a thousand feet off a bridge to my death, and then yelped again as I shot a stream of faux sadness right into one wide blue eye.

Fake tears ran like the River Jordan down my artificially pale cheek. “Oh!” I exclaimed as I tried to deal with the mess.

I jerked around to eye the owner of the hand and forgot how to speak.

Across the room he’d been yummy, definitely an eight-star performance on opening night. But up close and personal, Mr. Hostile was a solid fifteen stars, with a good three-minute standing ovation added in.

Even with the glare on his face.

I couldn’t help wondering why he seemed so angry with me. Surely it wasn’t because I was ogling him at the viewing of the man who was supposed to be my boyfriend. I gave that one a few moments of thought.

Nah. That couldn’t be it.

Hostile Hottie stuck the hand he’d accosted me with in front of my face, all but daring me to shake it. “Eddie Deitz.”

I blinked. “Huh?” Brilliant, MayBell. Oscar-worthy response.

My poor tissue was swamped with fake tears, and there were more of them trailing down one cheek. I couldn’t seem to get them under control. So, I decided to embrace the dramatic substance of the moment. I quivered my bottom lip and sniffled behind the lump of saturated tissue.

Accepting his challenge, I placed a limp paw into his and allowed it to be pumped. “MayBell Ferth. It’s a pleasure.”

Ugh! I wanted to kick myself. Who says that at a funeral? Jeezopete!

His gorgeous green gaze narrowed slightly, bringing my attention to the thick fringe of black lashes framing his eyes.

I’d do a year’s worth of PiYo classes to have lashes like that. And that was saying something because I hated PiYo with the power of a thousand suns.

“Is there something wrong with your eye?” he asked.

I mopped ineffectually at the fake tears with my soggy tissue. “Um, no, I’m just sad.”

Stupid, May. Stupid.

His expression told me he didn’t believe I was sad out of only one eye. I couldn’t blame him for his skepticism.

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