The Authorized Version

Today I am doing a mystery blog exchange with P.J. MacLayne, author of The Marquesa's Necklace The Oak Grove Mysteries, Book 1). After you read this, you can go over to P.J.'s blog Mountain Musings and read about A Lethal Spectre, Lord Danvers Investigates, book 5. P.J. and I agree that our books should both appeal to the same readers.

P.J., tell us how The Marquesa's necklace came about. 

The truth is, I didn't set out to write a cozy mystery series. This book was supposed to be a romance. My characters, especially Harmony Duprie, the main character, convinced me otherwise, but did allow me to keep the romance as a sub-plot. 

By the end of the book, I'd fallen in love with Harmony, and knew what was intended to be a stand-alone story would be a series. I've written three books in the series so far, and am currently working on the fourth. But I have great fondness for the story that started it all. 

Book Blurb

 Harmony Duprie enjoyed her well-ordered life in the quiet little town of Oak Grove—until her arrest for drug trafficking. Cleared of all charges, she wants nothing more than to return to the uneventful lifestyle of a historical researcher she once savored.

But when her beloved old car “George” is stolen and explodes into a ball of flames, it sets off a series of events that throws her plans into turmoil. Toss in a police detective that may or may not be interested in her, an attractive but mysterious stranger on her trail, and an ex-boyfriend doing time, and Harmony’s life freefalls into a downward spiral of chaos. 

Now she has to use her research skills to figure out who is behind the sinister incidents plaguing her, and why. And she better take it seriously, like her life depends upon finding the right answers. 

Because it might. 

Excerpt: 

Officer Felton left me in the barely-furnished lobby. It was a place you don’t want to stay in too long—several hard plastic chairs, a beat-up fake wood end table and a few old magazines scattered about. It smelled like stale cigarettes, and appeared not to have been cleaned for weeks. I perched on the edge of a chair and put my hands between my knees to keep from touching anything. Thankfully, it was only moments until Detective Thomason appeared. I gave him the once over—brown hair still cut short—check. Glasses hiding those dark brown eyes—check. His shirt rumpled and in need of an iron—check. No wedding band in his finger—check. Yep, nothing had changed.

As I stood, his eyes wandered from my face down to my shoes. The corners of his lips curled upward, but I wouldn’t say that he smiled. A smile would have looked odd on his normally grim face.

“If you would come with me, please?” he said.

He even put the please in there, unlike our previous encounters. Of course, those times, I had been either in booking or in one of the interrogation chambers. I know, I know, they’re interview rooms. Whatever. I followed him through a maze of desks and hallways and into a small but comfortable office, my heels clicking on the tile floor. I’d never noticed before what a nice behind he had. I wondered if it was just the pants he was wearing, or if I’d just not looked before, having other things on my mind. Like calling a lawyer.

“Have a seat, please,” he said, indicating an armless office chair—at least its seat was padded. He sat on the other side of a desk covered with an assortment of files and paperwork, and picked up a file from the top of the stack.

“Harmony,” he said tentatively.

“Detective Thomason,” He might be trying to be friendly, but I still hadn’t forgiven him for arresting me.

He cleared his throat, and set the file back on his desk. “Did you let anyone borrow your car today?” he asked.

“No, my keys are right here.” I started digging through the contents of my purse.

“I’ll take your word for it,” he said, after I pulled out my checkbook, a packet of pink tissues, and a paperback with an almost-naked man on the front cover and piled them on the corner of his desk. His mouth twitched. “Have you made any new enemies recently, Miss Duprie?” I guess he got my message about the terms of our relationship.

“Besides a certain insufferable cop?” Even in the artificial fluorescent light, I saw the red rising in his cheeks. I could almost hear him counting to ten as I pretended to consider the question. “I think Larry, the florist, is ticked off that I’m not receiving flowers anymore. And Bart at the grocery store yelled at me last week when I went through the ten items or less line with fourteen items. But what does that have to do with someone stealing and wrecking my car?” 

Buy Links

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00LF11HB4

 http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-marquesas-necklace-pj-maclayne/1119886265

 https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id894246916

 http://www.inktera.com/store/title/8e689860-d163-4a5a-ac42-47ace09b4690

 http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/the-marquesa-s-necklace

Author Bio: Born and raised among the rolling hills of western Pennsylvania, P.J. MacLayne still finds inspiration for her books in that landscape. She is a computer geek by day and a writer by night who currently lives in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains. When she's not in front of a computer screen, she might be found exploring the back roads of the nearby national forests and parks. In addition to the Free Wolves’ stories, she is also the author of the Oak Grove series. 

P.J. MacLayne can be reached on: 

Facebook https://facebook.com/pjmaclayn

Twitter https://twitter.com/pjmaclayne

Google + https://plus.google.com/u/0/+PJMacLayne/posts

 Amazon http://www.amazon.com/P.J.-MacLayne/e/B00HVE8WZI

Blog: http://pjmaclayne.blogspot.com/

BookBub https://www.bookbub.com/profile/p-j-maclayne