What secrets are you hiding? We all have a few. Private investigator Dezeray Jackson specializes in uncovering secrets. And she won't stop until she discovers the truth.
Dezeray Jackson examines the cold case of a 13-year-old girl from Fremont, NE. As details unfold, Dez is forced to confront her feelings about her sister's unsolved murder, manage her relationship with former lover, Patrick Murphy, and diffuse the tension he's creating with her current lover, Scott James. Things become more complicated when Dez begins receiving communication from a dead guy.
If you like Janet Evanovich, Marcia Muller or Sue Grafton, then you'll love a series that combines all of their best traits into a smart, sassy, take no BS private investigator from the midwest, who has a penchant for weapons, scotch, fine wines, good-looking men, a great game of pool, and a Rottweiler named Godfrey.
Here's the nitty-gritty: I write sinfully scandalous mysteries for adults, and create memorable adventures for young people. If you love Dr. Who, Sherlock, Star Trek, The Sneetches, Marvin the Martian, and Wonder Woman, then we should talk. I also love people-watching, and creating a storyline and dialogue for what I'm seeing. And I'd be lying if I said that some of those experiences don't end up in my books. Tweet with me @kmillerwrites.
Are you a shooter? Can you imagine yourself in this scenario? I could because for years I met a lot of Leo Taylors. There's always that guy who believes because a woman has boobs she can't do certain things. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't fun putting them in their place.
How is life a pool game?
Leo Taylor and his partner still had the table. And, they were up at least a hundred bucks by my calculations. I approached the table to set the rack. “How much?” I asked Taylor. “Oh, now darlin’, we don’t want to take your money. We’ll just play for fun this round.” I tossed a fifty onto the table. Taylor and his partner eyed it. “You sure you want to do that, sweetie?” “Why not? It’s all fun, right?” Taylor added his fifty to the table, and then said, “Straight eight. Ball in hand. Bank the eight. That work for you ladies?” I looked at Tamara. I caught a deer-in-the-headlights expression. I looked back at Leo Taylor, and said, “Sounds good.” Another guy picked up the money for safekeeping. Taylor’s partner took the break. The nine-ball dropped. He lined up on the fifteen. It was in line with Tamara. I leaned over to her and said, “When he misses, you’re up. If you can, go for the three-ball at the other end.” She nodded. I handed her a stick. “Make sure you chalk it before you shoot.” I smiled. Taylor’s partner missed. He shrugged it off and laughed. Leo Taylor didn’t. Tamara bent over the end of the table to aim at the three-ball. All the men watched her ass. She was wearing red jeggings with knee high boots and a fitted blouse. The shot was a long shot, and I knew she’d miss. After she did, Taylor said, “Don’t worry about it, honey. This’ll be over soon.” Then, that little voice in my head that warns me that what I’m about to say, or do, might be a bad idea, kicked back and enjoyed the beer. Tamara handed me the stick. I chalked it up and waited for Taylor to miss. He had a good run, but couldn’t finish the job. The thirteen sat on the table to the right of the eight-ball, nearly dead center. I prowled around the table, studying the angles. Truth was, Taylor made it too easy. I bent to take the four-ball first. “Ah, you sure you want to do that, sweetie?” he asked. I looked up from my shot, smirked, winked, and shot without looking back at the table. The four-ball dropped into a corner pocket. I called the next shot, then the next, and finally reached the eight-ball. I’d left it alone the entire time. Truth be told, I liked the middle-of-the-table shot. Taylor paced along side the table, gripping his stick so tight that his knuckles turned white. The small crowd of construction guys were real quiet as I lined up for the eight-ball. I let the cue ball tap the eight on the left, nudging it into the side pocket without touching the thirteen. The construction guys roared. The guy holding the money said, “Oh, taken down by a girl!” He handed me the money. Taylor threw his stick onto the table, shoved his buddy aside, and went to the bar. “I’m going to help him lick his wounds.