Flora Lively and a Date with Death
by Joanne Phillips
The plot and characters are interesting, with many possible suspects. Phillips provides enough twists and tension to keep the story flowing.
~Christa Reads and Writes
This whodunit was a fun read with great characters and a story line that will make you want to read more.
~Shelley’s Book Case
I loved Flora and Marshall, for me Flora was the perfect quirky sleuth that I like in a cozy …
I liked this charming cozy with some light romance elements. The English countryside setting is enjoyable.
This British cozy mystery had me hooked from the first page…
A Date With Death: Cozy Private Investigator Series
(Flora Lively Mysteries Book 2)
Publisher: Mirrorball Books (April 15, 2015)
Print Length: 183 pages
Amateur sleuth Flora Lively is back to investigate another mystery, and this time the body count is rising …
When Flora’s best friend returns to England with a Spanish film crew in tow, Flora is thrilled to land a job on set at a glamorous country house. But when a member of the crew is brutally murdered, and the priceless Infanta Tiara stolen, suspicion falls on everyone at Hanley Manor – including someone far too close to home.
When an arrest is made, Flora is plunged deep into a puzzling mystery, with no idea who she can and cannot trust. Surrounded by suspicion and bitter rivalries, she must keep one eye over her shoulder at all times. Because the murderer is about to strike again …
A Date With Death is a cozy English village mystery, ideal for readers who love cozy reads with romance and humor, and British mysteries on Kindle.
(Book #2 in the Flora Lively British cosy mysteries series)
Praise for Book #1:
“A gripping tale filled with humanity and humor. Don’t miss this one!” Found Between The Covers
“An excellent start to a new cozy mystery series and a brand new amateur sleuth for readers to fall in love with.” Socrates Book Reviews
“The characters are lovely, and the mystery is top notch. Murder at the Maples is a wonderful start to a cozy series.” Brooke Blogs
About The Author
Joanne Phillips lives in rural Shropshire, England, with her husband and young daughter. She’s the author of romantic comedies Can’t Live Without, The Family Trap and Cupid’s Way, and the Flora Lively series of contemporary mysteries. Can’t Live Without was an Amazon top 100 bestseller in 2012 and her books regularly appear on category bestseller lists. Before becoming a writer, Joanne had jobs as diverse as hairdresser, air hostess and librarian, but now divides her time between writing and finding creative ways to avoid housework. She’s a fan of super-dark chocolate, iced coffee and Masterchef.
July 15 – A Blue Million Books – Interview
July 16 – Christa Reads and Writes – Review
July 17 – Shelley’s Book Case – Review, Guest Post
July 18 – 3 Partners in shopping, Nana, Mommy, &, Sissy, Too! – Guest Post
July 19 – Book Splurge – Review, Interview
July 20 – View from the Birdhouse – Interview
July 21 – Lori’s Reading Corner – Guest Post
July 22 – Lilac Reviews – Interview
July 23 – StoreyBook Reviews – Spotlight
July 24 – Omnimystery News – Guest Post
July 25 – Frankie Bow – Interview
July 26 – Cozy Up With Kathy – Interview
July 27 – Brooke Blogs – Review, Guest Post
July 28 – LibriAmoriMiei – Review
A Date With Death – excerpt
Flora said goodbye to Celeste and Eduardo, then headed back down the main staircase, her hand trailing along the polished curved banister, enjoying the feel of the old wood under her fingers and imagining the countless hands that had done the same over the last two hundred or so years. She figured she’d retrace her steps to get back out to the garden, then head across the lawn and go into the trees at the same point Sidney and Marshall had disappeared from view. This Nook place couldn’t be that difficult to find.
At the bottom of the stairs she saw Sidney heading towards her. He was carrying a large silver tray piled with dirty dishes and muttering to himself. Flora, on an impulse she didn’t understand or analyse, ducked into a recessed doorway next to a huge Chinese-patterned urn. Sidney strode past, still muttering. He stopped across the hall in front of a closed door, then reached into a deep pocket with his free hand, pulling out an enormous ring of keys. He rattled it like a jailer, then grabbed a key and jabbed it into the keyhole. As he swung the door open and hoisted the tray through it, Flora caught sight of another long corridor, dimly lit and narrow. Then the butler kicked the door closed with his heel, and Flora heard it being locked again from the other side. She frowned. Odd to keep a service door locked like that. Wouldn’t it make life difficult for him and the other staff? Every one of them would have to have a key, for a start, and locking and re-locking doors all the time didn’t seem very safe from a fire safety point of view. Wouldn’t it be simpler to put a No Entry sign up and leave it at that?
She stepped out of the doorway. Weird. Maybe the family who owned Hanley Manor insisted on keeping doors locked, to stop prying eyes. A shuffling sound to her left caught Flora’s attention, and she turned to see a young woman step out of an alcove only five or six feet from where Flora herself had been hiding. The woman’s eyes flashed in alarm when she saw Flora; she whirled around in a mass of wild, dark hair and fled into the music room. Flora followed, but there was no sign of the woman in either the music room or the next room along.
‘Hello,’ Flora said. Her voice sounded hollow and too loud in the vast space. Every wall was crammed with ancient paintings, some so dark and discoloured it was impossible to discern colours or features. She turned in a circle, wondering if the woman was hiding in here. Which would be ridiculous, of course. The faces on the closest paintings stared back at her, their expressions either bleak or sneering. The silence felt so absolute it was almost a noise in itself.
Flora retraced her steps, and found her way back to the small lobby area with the benches and the coat racks. She stepped out of the dark house into the sunlit gardens with a sense of pure relief. And there was Marshall, slouching on the lawn, kicking at something in the grass, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his cargo shorts, familiar and incongruous as hell. Flora smiled, then headed over to greet him.
‘Hey, Lively,’ he said, looking up and shielding his eyes from the sun. ‘You are gonna love where we’re sleeping.’
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