Following the latest cryptic message that might lead them to the truth about their parents, Emme Mayson and Jackie Dickson are pulled into another murder investigation when a man dressed in a kilt falls from the sky onto their truck.
As if a dead body isn't enough, FBI Special Agent Chris Meechum and sexy caretaker Sam Fender try to rein in their sleuthing, but the sisters are determined to solve this murder. Men in kilts, Renaissance Faires, and a few mobsters in all the wrong places complicate the case.
Emme Mayson is a Southern charmer from Alabama. Jackie Dickson is a straight-forward professional from Boston, they aren't exactly a match made in heaven. The only thing keeping them from starting another war between the states is the mystery surrounding their parents, and their own lives.
Mayson-Dickson - Northern logic, Southern charm, and murder!
As if a dead body isn't enough, FBI Special Agent Chris Meechum and sexy caretaker Sam Fender try to rein in their sleuthing, but the sisters are determined to solve this murder. Men in kilts, Renaissance Faires, and a few mobsters in all the wrong places complicate the case.
Emme Mayson is a Southern charmer from Alabama. Jackie Dickson is a straight-forward professional from Boston, they aren't exactly a match made in heaven. The only thing keeping them from starting another war between the states is the mystery surrounding their parents, and their own lives.
Mayson-Dickson - Northern logic, Southern charm, and murder!
Yankee Tenacity Excerpt
Jackie Dickson glanced behind her at the long truck bed.
"Why would you buy a pisser like this?"
"Don't you be calling my pickup a pisser. That is just
not nice." Emme patted the dashboard. "I like Cleo, and I've missed
having my truck."
"Cleo? You realize this is a machine, right? Nuts,
bolts, an engine, nothing more." Just when she thought her
"maybe" twin sister, that was still to be determined, was going to be
tolerable to live with, she goes all Alabama redneck.
"At least, it's more practical than that little
skateboard you bought." Emme snarled at her.
"Skateboard? That blue beauty is a Z4 BMW roadster that
tops out at a 165 MPH." Patting the dashboard of the truck sarcastically,
she moaned. "What does this tank do? A slow crawl through Dixie?"
"It ain't all about the speed. Cleo can pull a boat,
haul anything you want, lets me see over traffic, and as a bonus, I can run
right over your puny little Beamer." She smiled.
Such was life with Ellie May Clampett. Jackie wondered what
karmic debt she owed to have been sent here. It must have been a whopper.
"Did you put those coordinates into the GPS?"
"No, I'm just riding shotgun, while throwing biscuits
to Jethro in the back."
Emme swerved a bit to the right, driving through the center
of a huge pothole. The sudden impact jolted Jackie off her seat, crunching her
elbow against the door. Then a loud thud hammered the back of the truck sending
a shudder through the metal. The truck swerved, and Emme fought the wheel.
"Being a smart ass is one thing, trying to kill me is
another." Jackie snapped.
"It wasn't me," Emme pulled the steering wheel
hard. "I think we blew a tire." Easing the truck onto the side of the
road, she pushed the four-way lights on and slid out. Tilting her head to one
side, she looked at the tires, gave a shrug, started to walk to the back and
stopped dead in her tracks.
Emme's hazel eyes grew large, the color drained from her
tanned face and every part of her body was frozen into place.
This was one of those moments when Jackie had to decide if
she really wanted to look behind her or not. They probably ran over some poor
woodland animal. Those beasts were all over the place down here in the south.
It's remains were probably scrambled over the side of the truck, and this
miserable humidity would make it start stinking.
Emme stood on tip-toes, tilted her head to one side, and
crooked her finger motioning Jackie to get out. Damn, there was no way of
getting out of seeing what carnage was underneath the truck. Shoving open the
door, she stepped onto the gravel shoulder, turning.
"Holy shit, what is that?"
"I think it's a body."
They walked toward the bed of the truck where booted feet
hung over the side. The edge of the truck's bed was now a funky 'U' shape, the
feet were perched at odd angles, and the branches of several pine trees nearly
covered the rest of the body. At least, Jackie hoped there was a rest of the
body.
"No. Hell no. Not another dead body. Seriously? Who the
hell did we piss off so bad?" Jackie shook her head. Three dead bodies in
a matter of weeks wasn't normal. Normal? Ha! It was downright screwed up.
"Eww, eww," Emme peered into the truck bed first.
"That is nasty." Walking to the back, she stepped up on the bumper.
"What are you doing?" If she thought it was nasty
why was she getting an even better look?
"Huh, will you look at this." Two cars sped past,
their breeze making Emme hang onto the tailgate. "What do y'all think this
is a NASCAR race?" She shouted after them.
Jackie hesitated. They'd seen enough mangled bodies recently
to last a lifetime. Just a few weeks ago, they hadn't known each other existed.
Jackie was a happy executive with a pharmaceutical company in Boston, and Emme
was an architect working in Alabama. Then they both received a cryptic letter
to come to Washington, D.C.
Since then a man was assassinated in front of them, they'd
been shot at, moved to a 'safe' house by some agency - they didn't know which
one - told their recently deceased parents were spies, and decided to open a
private investigation office as a way of hiding their search for the truth
about their parents. That was all it was supposed to be a PI agency that acted
as a good cover story in their search. PI credentials opened doors.
Then they solved a high profile murder after a dead body
slammed into them. That gave them a good paycheck, let them help the local cops
put a murderer behind bars and put them square in the PI business. They had
managed to keep their names out of the paper, barely. Publicity wasn't a good
thing for people in a jacked-up witness protection program.
Jackie was hoping for nice little cases that involved
cheating spouses or worker's comp fraud, not real dead bodies.
Standing on the bumper beside Emme she looked at the
surprisingly intact body. It was a man in his mid to late thirties, Caucasian,
brown hair tied in a ponytail, and dressed in, wait, what? A Scottish kilt.
"What the hell?" They exchanged glances. Jackie
took one of the pine branches and lifted the kilt.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm checking to see if he was a real Scotsman."
She dropped the branch.
"And you think looking at his junk is going to tell
you? That is just rude." Emme jumped down just as a convertible sports car
stopped.
"Hey, sweet thing do you need some help?" The
driver's bald head glistened in the sun, his neon blue mesh tank top had been
blown to an odd angle off one shoulder, and he was in serious need of a shave.
He gave the engine a few revs.
"We sure do, honey." Emme pointed to the truck.
"We could use some help dumping this dead body." The man the floored
the convertible for all it was worth.
Did her sister really just tell that man there was a dead
body in their truck? Yes, dammit she did.
"You know that man is calling the cops right now."
"My call will trump his." Emme smiled. "I
have Agent Meechum's private number."
Meet The Author: Jocie McKade
Jocie McKade is an Amazon bestselling author, scriptwriter, and journalist. She lives in the Midwest with her family and Diesel the Wonder Dog.
I write romantic comedy because, well, most of my real life could be a comedy, so I go with what I know!
I am a grower of ArnoldSchwarz-a-weeds, which I call my garden guardians (no one wants to raid a garden with THOSE kind of weeds)and I am a camping goddess - I love camping and hey, I may not rock a bikini, but I can make a back-pack look good!!!
Visit Jocie's website to join her newsletter, get the latest news on releases and giveaways.
I write romantic comedy because, well, most of my real life could be a comedy, so I go with what I know!
I am a grower of ArnoldSchwarz-a-weeds, which I call my garden guardians (no one wants to raid a garden with THOSE kind of weeds)and I am a camping goddess - I love camping and hey, I may not rock a bikini, but I can make a back-pack look good!!!
Visit Jocie's website to join her newsletter, get the latest news on releases and giveaways.