~THERE ARE THREE SIDES TO EVERY LOVE STORY~
~~~~Marianne, can you tell us how it felt to write an equal attraction to two different personalities and love interests for Rylie Keyes.
Quite often, in all honesty, I felt a hearty tug of jealousy. Of course, I didn’t envy Rylie’s thorny position, but neither did I find it totally agonizing. Both Detective Thad Talon and Officer Zach O’Neil are heroes in their own right, yet both are flawed. You see, I took great pains to wrap these men in both their imperfections and in their qualities like layered skin. The challenge came when deciding who should win Rylie’s heart, and once decided, how the victor would succeed without compromising the appeal of the other man. For, naturally, in a series, affairs of the heart are never certain until the very end. Though—for now—I made the right decision. It feels right.
In the beginning, I knew Rylie best, and I understood all too well the reasons for her fear of abandonment and hesitation to trust. Then I, too, deserted her for a while, making her go it alone, unsure of who to turn to or what to do next. Arguably, it was a difficult, but necessary snag to her already complex life. Later, I made her stare into the mirror much closer than she wanted to look. How else could she see who she really was unless she took the time to observe? But then, I did this with other characters, too, young and old, especially when it came to love and friendship. Grudgingly, they all accepted my challenge, laughing in spite of themselves.
I hope you enjoy reading Malicious Mischief as much as I enjoyed writing it. Happy reading. ~Marianne Harden
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Marianne loves making people laugh. True, she should probably spend time on an analyst's couch, but she’d rather spill loads of fun into her books. She’s rarely at a loss for words, which is wicked cool for a writer. And it would be poppycock to say she didn't laze away her wonder years dreaming of far-off places.Over the years, she’s traversed the insanely fun back roads of Australia and New Zealand, trekked the wildly exotic landscapes of Asia and Africa, soaked up the blistering Caribbean sun, survived bitter Arctic cold to witness the Northern Lights, and lost a wee bit of her heart to the awesomeness of Europe.
Her goals in life are simple: do more good than harm and someday master the do-not-mess-with-me look. She roosts in Washington State with her husband and two children.
AUTHOR LINKS
ABOUT THE BOOKIs it strange to have the unemployment office on speed dial? Not for twenty-four-year-old college dropout Rylie Keyes. Her current job at a small retirement home is worlds more important than all her past gigs, though: if she loses this job, she won’t be able to stop the forced sale of her grandfather’s home, a house that has been in the family for ages. However, to keep her job she must figure out the truth behind the death of a senior citizen who was found murdered while in her care. Explain that one, Miss Keyes.
The victim was thought to be a penniless man with a silly grudge against Rylie. However, his enemies will do whatever it takes to keep their part in his murder secret.
Forced to dust off the PI training she needs to keep hidden from her ex-detective grandfather, Rylie must juggle the attentions of two sexy police officers who both excite and fluster her. And as she trudges through the case, she has no idea that along the way she might win, or lose, a little piece of her heart.
EXCERPT
I turned, my doubt about solving this case rising.
I walked into Detective Talon.
I stumbled back, apologizing as he reached out,
steadying me with a gentle hand.
“Thank you,” I said awkwardly, shocked by the
comfort I found in his touch.
There came a lengthening silence as he stared down
at me. His handsome face folded in, brooding, deep into a frown.
I looked at him in bewilderment. “Is something
wrong?”
“It’s the way Lipschitz talks of you. It isn’t
right and proper,” he said. “You do know he was once in love with you. And
dammit, he quite possibly still is.”
Such concern, he must have written the Bintliff
note. “There was never anything between us—why dammit?”
“A detective on a power trip, a vulnerable
suspect, and an axe to grind—never ye mind, I suspect it’s better if I say no
more,” he said, his voice steady but worried.
His assertion intrigued me on many levels. Though
loosely exercised, it was a breach of the age-old police code of silence. Even
when guilty of wrongdoing, cops don’t talk bad about other cops.
“I never encouraged Lipschitz,” I said. “He was
too busy calling me bastard baby to
realize that at the time. You should know something else. I had nothing to do
with Otto’s death.”
“No mind, I already knew you weren’t involved,” he
said. “Though it makes no sense to me, you trying to persuade your grandfather
by solving Otto’s murder.”
I raised my brows, figuring he had learned this
from Leland. “I need his blessing.”
“Answer me this: does the grape ask the yeast what
type of wine it should be?”
Puzzled by this man, by how he talked in riddles,
I stepped back, clumsily turning on an ankle. He didn’t steady me this time,
didn’t touch me. It shamed me how much I had wanted him to. “I find you so
confusing,” I said self-conscious, a bit shy.
“I cannae fault you for that. I’m up to my neck in
confusion. There is no rhyme or reason in why I’m willing to break a dozen
department rules to discuss this case with you.”
“Don’t risk your career for me,” I said too
hastily, too coolly, as one does when skeptical, for police officers carried
another burden, the binding pressure of their code of conduct.
He picked up on my doubt and gave me a half-amused
smile. “My career will survive, though my ego may not be as blessed.”
I forced myself to say, “Ego complicates things.”
“Aye, while laughing last and loudest. Petulant
thing, ego.”
He continued to look at me with his dramatic eyes.
I saw the soulfulness in them and thought back to his anger over Lipschitz’s
contempt for me. I wondered why it bothered him, why he felt the need to write
the anonymous Bintliff note. Surely, he had more to worry about than me. He was
a man of contrasts; I could see that now. The dangerous detective with a
discerning stare, concerned stranger abhorring the ways of a hateful partner. I
smiled, oddly becoming more at ease with him. But there was something baffling,
even staggering about the suddenness of this change. I was entering dangerous
grounds, I knew I was, but still I said, “Maybe yours just got out of bed on
the wrong side.”
“Innuendo?”
“No,” I said, but it had been, and I turned cold
all over at my boldness. I was acting harebrained. It had to stop. “Talon, why
are you doing this? I’m more often the friend than lover.”
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