Love, Love, LOVE Angie Fox's Latest SECRETS, LIES AND FIREFLIES - Celebrating Women's Suffrage During Women's History Month!

 

“You have no idea the lengths some women will go

 to in order to give up their power...”

Didi planted her hands on her hips. “So it’s a peach operation that hides the suffragette operation.” “It sure looks that way.” “Hidden in Grandma Rose’s garden.” I had to hand it to Rose. “It would be the perfect cover for secret meetings.” “Nobody would think to look down here,” Didi said as the double doors overhead flew open on the ghostly side. A hook-nosed ghost above us let out a cry, dropping her basket of fruit. Didi zipped out of the way. I wasn’t as quick and caught a silvery peach to the shoulder. The icy wetness of the other side seared me. “Ow!” I cried as it plowed straight through me and rolled across the cave floor. The hook-nosed woman appeared directly between us. She wore men’s work gloves and an apron smeared with dirt. “What are you doing in my storage room?” “Madge let us in,” I said, rubbing my shoulder. “We’re looking for the lock that fits this key.” She studied the key I held up. “You won’t find it here,” she said grimly. “Then do you know where?” Didi pressed. Her lips thinned. “That’s not for me to say.” “They’re with Rose,” Madge said, shimmering into existence next to me. “I’ve been keeping an eye on them.” 

The ghost looked us up and down. “They’re not even wearing corsets.” “It’s a new day,” Didi told her. She frowned at that. “I say we leave this up to Liberty Brown. If she wants these ladies involved, she’ll tell them what to do.” “Liberty Brown?” I’d never heard of her. “She’ll be at the meeting,” Madge said. “You can wait with me.” “When does the meeting start?” Didi asked as Madge led us out of the storage cellar. “Ladies will be showing up any minute,” she assured us. “In fact, I hesitated to leave the meeting room, well, until you startled Viv.” “I think we all did our fair share of startling,” I said. “So what’s with all the peaches?” Didi asked. “I can understand meeting down here, but actually helping with the harvest?” “It’s…complicated,” Madge said, holding the curtain for us. “But you might as well help me peel a few while we wait for the meeting to start.” 

I fought off a cringe. “That might be difficult.” Objects on the ghostly plane felt like ice against my skin and fire in my veins. And anything I touched would vanish within minutes. But if we played our cards right, we could try to learn more from Madge. Didi seemed to be thinking the same thing. She commandeered an apron. I skipped that part and dredged up a rickety stool from the corner. It slanted sideways and looked like it’d crumble in a mild breeze, but it was the only seat I could find that wasn’t glowing gray. My rule when it came to the ghostly plane was definitely more of a look, don’t touch approach. The table appeared real enough despite the ghostly sheen. The peaches were on an entirely different plane. “Ready?” Madge said, placing a shimmering silver knife down onto the table next to me. “Sure,” I ventured. Oh, who was I kidding? I was never ready for this. The ghostly knife would be freezing cold. It would make my teeth chatter and my hand go numb. And if I dared touch it, we could kiss it goodbye. Same with the peaches. The basket. And while nuking all the unpeeled peaches would no doubt speed things along, I’d rather stay under the radar. Learn what we could. I made a show of flexing my fingers. Didi grabbed a knife and a peach. “So, seriously, why are we peeling fruit for the vote instead of marching or making ourselves heard?” She was right. I could think of a dozen more effective ways to be heard and inspire change. Madge wiped her hands on her apron before grabbing her knife. “Bake sales are important fundraisers.” Oh, come on. “You have to give us more than that.” “That’s it,” Madge said, not fooling anybody. “We’re in an underground cave,” I pointed out. “This isn’t a baking party. What are you really working on down here?” Madge stiffened. “We’ve been ordered to keep the fundraising going.” “With peaches?” Didi asked, slicing into her first one. “It’s no secret the movement is in danger.” And it was clear they weren’t telling us everything. She eyed me. “Keep at it, and Viv is going to kick you out.” “Let’s not get hasty,” I said as Didi placed a half-peeled peach in front of me. I could pretend it was mine. Madge dug into a peach with her knife. “Let’s be honest. I know everyone in Sugarland, and I don’t know you.” How strange to be on the other end of that one. 

“You should, right?” I agreed. “I mean, if you don’t go back five generations, are you really from Sugarland?” “I’d say the true test is whether you’ve put a raft down on Devil’s Bend,” Didi said. “Or gone to Roan’s for a hammer.” I nodded. They’d been in business since 1843. “Or stared up at Rockhill Mansion and wondered what the heck goes on up there,” Madge added. “It’s haunted, that’s what,” I told her. I’d solved the case. “I knew it!” Madge gushed. “If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times.” She shook her head. “This is fun. I missed chatting. And working together,” she added, eyeing my knife on the table. “Do you really have to worry about spies?” Didi asked, while I wondered if I was brave enough to reach for the knife. At Madge’s raised brow, I did, gritting my teeth as I felt the bracing chill. I stabbed into the skin of the peach without picking it up. “Didi has a point,” I said to our host. “We’re women.” I ignored the goosebumps erupting on my arms. “Why wouldn’t we want the vote?” Madge cocked her head as she ran a knife around the peach, skinning it with swift strokes. “You have no idea the lengths some women will go to in order to give up their power.” She eyed me. “They leave chicken feet on my husband’s desk at work and call him henpecked.” She returned her attention to the peach. “They say he’s not a man because he stays home with the baby while I volunteer.” “My man takes care of my little Lucy while I work,” I said, flicking the peel and stabbing the peach before tossing it into the metal bowl. “Why shouldn’t your partner take care of his family? It’s what good men do.” Madge placed her peeled peach next to mine. “He has been quite wonderful. I’m lucky.” 

“You are,” Didi said. “My husband pretended he didn’t know how to work the washing machine. For fifty years.” Madge barked out a laugh. “Mine can take apart a carburetor but needs me to make his toast.” She pursed her lips. “Although I do cut it into hearts for him. He likes that.” “You’re lucky,” I said, making note to try the heart toast with Ellis. “Mine can’t cook to save his life. The bacon is either raw or burned to a crisp, but he keeps trying.” “Pretend you like it, and he’ll get better,” she said, placing another peach in front of me. “That’s been my plan now that my husband has been fixing dinner every night for the kids. He saves a plate for me.” She brought a hand to her head. “I’ve been gone so much.” “Doing important work,” I assured her. “It may not look like it, but it is,” she assured us. She flicked her knife toward the peach she’d laid out for me. “I already did one,” I said, looking to the metal bowl. The entire bowl had begun to fade. Oh no. It was disappearing! Fast. I hadn’t touched it. But I had touched my peach, which I’d tossed in with the other peaches, which set off a chain reaction of disaster. 

“What the—” Madge stood, her chair falling backward as the entire bowl evaporated. Oh my goodness. I stood quickly. “I’m so sorry.” She shrieked, pointing as my knife began to disappear from the table. “I’m sorry about that, too,” I cried. Viv dashed into the room. “What’s the matter?” 

“They’re—” Madge pointed at me. “I⁠—” “I’m alive.” There. I’d said it. “I messed up the peaches because I’m alive.” Viv rested a hand on her hip. “Of course you’re alive. Everyone is alive. And peaches don’t disappear.” “I saw them,” Madge said breathlessly, staring at the table. Didi placed her knife down and rose from the table. “What year do you think this is?” Viv rolled her eyes. “It’s 1919, of course.” They didn’t know they were dead. Or that I was alive. “And when is the meeting supposed to start?” I asked Madge. “Tell me. What date? What time?” She looked at me funny. “June 20th. Two o’clock.” “1919,” Didi finished. That poor woman really had been peeling peaches for a century. “I don’t think we can wait around anymore.” Liberty Brown wasn’t coming. Nobody was. These poor ghosts didn’t realize their time was long past. And if they hadn’t noticed by now, I wasn’t sure how to convince them. “Is Liberty the only person who can help us?” “The only one who’ll be at the meeting,” Madge maintained. “Rose and Hope were the only ones trusted with keys,” Viv said from the door. “Where is Hope?” Maybe we could track her down. 

“Hope died last week.” Madge’s voice broke. “She died in jail.” “How awful,” I said, rubbing my hands on my dress. They were still tingling. “They locked her up for disturbing the peace,” Viv said. “In truth, it was to scare us. To keep us from organizing.” “Or asking questions,” Madge added. “About what?” I asked. They both clammed up. Viv’s hands formed into fists. “Now Rose is locked in the same jail. I feel so awful for her. No one is allowed in, and she’s in the same cell where Hope died.” The musty air clung to my skin, and I could hear water dripping somewhere in the distance. 

I stood as primly as I could, fingering Grandma Rose’s filigree necklace. “I’m dating a police officer. I might be able to help.” Viv gritted her jaw. “We can’t trust the police.” Not again. Not in Sugarland. “Why would you say that?” Madge drew a hand to the button brooch at her throat. “Eleanor Blackwell has vanished. She’s slated to speak at the rally tomorrow. It’s crucial to our cause.” Didi crossed her arms. “When did she disappear?” “Two days ago,” Viv said. “She left the Sugarland Hotel after dinner. We thought she was coming straight here to the house, but she disappeared on the way. Several of our members went to the police, but they’ve done nothing.” “At least that’s kept it out of the papers,” Madge added. “If we have to cancel the rally, we’ll lose a lot of support.” For now. But I could offer some comfort. “The good news is I do believe it will all turn out in the end.” Viv scoffed. Madge’s cheeks flushed gray. “How can you say that?” she demanded. “Our vice president died in her jail cell. Our speaker has been kidnapped. Our president has been arrested. Our lawyer is trying to get her out, but she’s on a hunger strike. She could die in there, just like Hope.” “Grandma Rose will make it,” Didi murmured to me. “But at what cost?” From the way she’d treated Didi in the afterlife, it was safe to say Rose had been through a lot. Didi nodded. “Grandma Rose is alone in the world. Her husband, Grandpa Jack, died in 1915.” “We already lost Hope. If we lose Rose and Eleanor both, we’ll have no shot at the grand plan,” Viv added. “We’ll never stop, but that doesn’t mean we’ll succeed.” “Or live.” 

Madge wiped her eyes. “I’m so sorry.” I’d had no idea. And they might be more right than they knew, seeing as they were still trapped down here a century later. Didi had the same idea. “Hang tight and stay where you are. We’ll see what we can find out.” Would we? “If Rose is in jail, we can talk to her about the key,” Didi said. She was right. Even if Rose had moved on, Hope might still be haunting the place where she died. She’d be able to tell us about the key as well. Viv brought a hand to her head. “Rose is the one we trusted to keep the key safe.” “It’s safe,” I insisted. And soon we’d secure Rose’s legacy as well. “Which jail is she in?” The ghosts shared a meaningful look before Viv answered, “Occoquan Workhouse.” I nodded, committing the name to memory. I turned to leave, pausing at the curtain. “Stay here. Have your meeting. We’ll be back with news,” I promised, my voice barely audible as I ascended into the world above.

~~~

I've been a fan for Angie for many years (do a search in the right column to check out all the other books I've talked about!) but, Secrets, Lies, and Fireflies is, not only a personal favorite for 2025, but, in my opinion, is the best book she's written--so far! Let's face it, with all that politics is causing in America, we have all begun to question just how soon women will be next on the chopping block... After all the president has been indicted for sexual abuse of E. Jean Carroll...

DEI actions are so diverse in implementation that you cannot keep up...people are being fired, then have to file legal actions!!! Chaos from one man who has already shown he cares nothing about women (E. Jean is not the only individual who has attempted to sue the president), Social Security, and Medicaid...

I could have continued to illustrate what is presently happening, but I hope all of you already know of the catastrophic mess that Trump and MAGA is forcing on America citizens... Still, it needed to be illustrated because many people have gone through this type of discriminatory action before! This book takes us back to the historical story of what was happening as women were fighting to gain the right to vote--and if we don't stop this madness, that could be next by this misogynist... and white supremacist...

“Where is she?” He blazed toward the house. “Is she in there? She can’t hide from me.” At this rate, she might want to. I was no expert, but I had to assume hell hath no fury like a gangster in penny loafers. 

Fox takes readers on a very different direction in her latest, which had to be planned for Women's History Month! Kudos Angie! We still have our regular gangster ghost, Frankie, who is stuck on earth when his ashes was accidentally spilt... This time, it is the family who is spotlighted in both good and bad ways... You see, other than the main character and her sister, all the rest of the family are dead or ghosts...

It all began when a fire is started in the Sugarland Library! Where Melody was working! Verity, our main character, was already hurrying toward the library when she heard somebody shouting her name... Yes, she realized that it was indeed her grandmother, Didi, who was calling her. We learn later that she saw Verity talking with Frankie, a ghost, so she realized that Verity might be able to hear her. She had been sent to be with Melody as she died...but when she saw there might be a chance to help her, all plans were changed! Soon Verity was leaping past everybody and on her way to find her grandmother, who then showed her where Melody was... 

Melody was standing, staring into space. A child was still lost and Melody wouldn't leave until she found her... So all three women began searching and ultimately found and saved the little girl, as well as Melody...  But a strange thing happened on their way out, Didi saw a white scarf, went and grabbed it and gave it to Verity. At that time, Verity thought Didi wanted her to cover her mouth from the smoke...

What evolved from that was the finding of a key within that scarf which started a search for a lock it would fit!

By the way, before we go any further, you should be aware that Lucy had won an award at the Annual Pet Parade and Festival. Lucy, by the way, is a delightful character who happens to be a skunk and who is also very protective of her loved ones and actually catches the criminal--with her back feet... You really have to read it to understand...LOL

Once the fire was under control, Didi returned to her home... Yes, she had left her home to Verity who had shown she loved it as much as Didi did... But, immediately the fun starts because Didi immediately created her vision of that house as she lived there... Which Verify loved and hoped she could stay... At the same time, Frankie felt it was his home now and wasn't happy with what she represented. You see, when Didi returned into her former home, she became the dominant ghost. Soon Frankie's home had been returned to a garden shed! Then Didi, thinking about her late husband, began to dress Frankie in a sweater, with a pipe... Well, hopefully you all who have been reading Fox for years know what Frankie thinks about himself...He...was...dominant! LOL Just like all men think so, right?

Which leads us to the main thrust of the mystery... During the Women's Suffrage movement, Sugarland had also become involved. However, it was not well received by the town's men. So women, at first, started meeting secretly. Rose, one of Verity's ancestors had been a major part of those activities. Unfortunately, all of the records had been entrusted to Didi, who knew nothing about Suffrage activities and after skimming the mountains of papers, had boxed it up and donated it... to... the... library! And, by the way, during the fire, a skeleton was found hidden in a wall there... 

I laughed often, but I teared up as well... Learning what was happening to women, how they were treated but so dedicated that, even after death, when they didn't know they'd died a century before, continued to work to make money to support those speakers who were traveling across the nation working to ensure women would be given the right to vote!

Must we continue to have similar types of situations over and over and over as men strive to override those votes that result in something different than candidates want! I'll never forget how a mother and daughter had lies made about them by the president and his lawyer! We must continue to fight to CONFIRM that ALL PEOPLE ARE CREATED EQUALLY as the Constitution guarantees... Then, why oh why must we repeat each step forward, while men want to go backward to the time when white men were the only ones allowed to participate in determining the type of government under which we live?!

And, why, Lord, do people continue to forget the only real things we needed to do for Him: Love and Speak Truth??? I thought Fox did an excellent job in the creation of the villain in this case... So very perfect an example of how some children are raised, taught, or simply, feel entitled to lie, cheat, and even murder if needed to get what was required for the life chosen... Angie, I hope you'll continue to take diversions into family life from time to time! Best book yet!

GABixlerReviews

Verity Gets Her First Ghost-Hunting Job! In Deader Homes and Gardens by Angie Fox...

Ellis handed me the phone. 
“It’s Lee Treadwell.” “Interesting,” I said, standing. I had no idea what the elderly gentleman could possibly want. Lee was the last of a long, distinguished family line in town. He owned one of the big, old mansions in the historic area and I hadn’t seen or spoken to him in a while. We didn’t run in the same circles and he certainly wasn’t the type to exchange casseroles for a peek at a ghost hunter. 
“This is Verity Long,” I said, bracing my rear against the counter. Ellis listened to my side of the conversation as he began gathering plates. 
“Sorry to disturb you,” Lee said, his voice low and rough. He was hard to hear with all the static on the line. “I tried your house first, and when you weren’t there, well… word has it you’ve been spending lots of time with young Mr. Wydell.” Sakes alive. “Word does get around,” I agreed. This was Sugarland, after all. “Now that you’ve found me, what can I do for you?” 
He cleared his throat. “I need you to be honest,” he said tersely. “Are you serious about that ghost-hunting business?” 
“Serious as the grave,” I assured him. It might not have been the best choice of words, but I was too focused on the fact that Lee could actually have a job for me. Lee Treadwell was well known in this town, respected. If he hired me, maybe everyone else would start to take me seriously as well. 
Lee exhaled sharply. “I need you to come over right away.”
“Is it an emergency?” I’d need to prepare. “I’ve left my ghost at home.” Frankie couldn’t go anywhere without his urn, which was resting in a barrel full of dirt in my parlor. How it had gotten there was a long story. Suffice it to say, I had no power without him. 
“I’ve stumbled across something peculiar,” Lee said, his voice strained. “I need you to see it. Grab your ghost. Pick up a crucifix while you’re at it, because I don’t think you’ve ever seen anything like this.” 
I’d seen plenty. The newspaper hadn’t revealed all my secrets. “Hang tight,” I told him. “I’ll be over as soon as I can.” 
I hung up. Ellis stood a few feet away, with Lucy snuggled in his arms, her head buried under one of his biceps. “What’s the crisis?” 
“I don’t know yet.” I smiled, despite my trepidation. “But I’ve got my first ghost-hunting job.”

~~~

Deader Homes and Gardens:

Southern Ghost Hunter Mysteries

By Angie Fox

Verity is a gutsy young woman who makes needed decisions in her life... The fact that she has had some really bad situations arise--like a cheating fiancee and a revengeful ex-mother-in-law who sued Verity and forced her to plan on selling everything to pay for the wedding she never had, has never quite completely got her down... Even if the town thought she was crazy for not marrying the most eligible bachelor in town and decided not to offer her opportunities to continue in her freelance design business.

So when she accidentally met Frankie, whose funeral urn had been given as a gift, and she decided to clean it up a little, thinking it was a vase, she had made her way into an entirely, more intriguing job...maybe she could be paid for being a ghost hunter! After all, she'd been successful in several previous criminal cases, right? So in this next novel, Deader Homes and Gardens, when she gets a call from a client who needs her services, she naturally becomes

excited...even if she had no idea what she might be getting into! Yikes! Because, of course, Frankie wasn't so sure that her new job was actually a job he wanted also!

And he wasn't thrilled to be called upon to immediately head out on a job, when he'd plan to relax...

Nevertheless, when Verity takes his urn with her...he must follow...kinda like this gangster has finally been placed in jail, almost!

Lee Treadwell, her new client, lives in a small cottage, behind the main house which has not been used for many years. One of his ancestors had been into Egyptology and the house was still filled with artifacts. But as soon as Jack Treadwell came home, he died... Some said a curse had been placed on him after opening a tomb of a lost king... During the years more Treadwells died...

It didn't take long for Verity and Frankie to see at least two women who were still residents in the house... one was thought to be the housekeeper and the other a younger woman... Until, finally, Lee decided not to live in the main house anymore...

So why was he calling now?

...but now, something else is happening.” He stood. “Come on. I’ll show you what I mean.” He walked me into the small kitchen and held the back door open. Tiny goose bumps erupted along my arms as the chill of the approaching night settled over me. “You’re not going to believe this,” he promised. “Try me,” I said, glad to give him someone he could confide in. We stepped onto the brick walk out back. Planter boxes lined the way, filled with colorful blooms. I touched my fingertips to a dusting of Goldilocks daisies thrusting out in shoots from a young crop of purple fountain grass. “What have you seen out here?” I asked, on heightened alert should Jack’s ghost appear in the vegetable garden just ahead, or from the small grape arbor to our left. “This is my space,” Lee said, his steps guarded as he led me out into the night. “The family spirits stick to their side.” I could almost hear Frankie rolling his eyes. Most ghosts went wherever they pleased, evidenced by my gangster buddy gliding straight through a row of tomato stakes. I kept close to Lee, on a dirt path between the slim pea sprouts and leafy butter lettuce. “This is lovely,” I told him, careful to avoid the delicate plants. I could tell he’d put a lot of care into his garden. “I appreciate you saying so,” he said, glancing back at me. “Since I’ve retired, I’ve been working to reclaim some of the land, as much as I can handle. The disturbances happen just beyond the cultivated parts of the property.” I stared out at the abandoned mansion on the other side of the hilltop. A high-pitched wail echoed across the expanse, like a wounded animal. It shouldn’t have startled me, but it did. It even gave Frankie pause. He listened carefully as the cry faded. “That’s more lonely soul than angry soul,” he said, as if trying to reassure himself. “Lovely.” I took a step back when a loud crackling echoed from the mansion. Frankie glanced at me. “I have no clue what that is.” He shoved his hands into his pockets in an attempt to hide his discomfort. Not much rattled the old gangster, and it scared me that this place gave him pause. Stone popped and timber creaked, as if the house struggled against its foundation. “It’s been doing that more and more,” Lee muttered. “We’ll figure it out,” I said, fighting to keep the fear out of my voice. I mean, at least the ghosts were active and perhaps attempting to communicate. “Maybe they’re disturbed by the changes you’re starting to make.”

This latest novel was the most scariest in my opinion... After all, add a curse on top of a house full of ghosts, it's easy to foresee lots of strange doings!  And the first strange thing was an old fountain that had not been used for years...Now water was flowing--from the eyes of the statue, not the pitcher from which it would normally flow... and the flow of the water? It was slowly filling up to cover... dozens of doll heads, torn from their bodies!

 I must admit that I would have loved to be Verity as she walked into a haunted mansion filled with items that, really, had been stolen from Egypt. But can you imagine going through not only a haunted house, but one which had a curse placed on it? OK, I'm probably not brave enough to do it, but it was easy to imagine as more and more of the history of the mansion and the events that were happening now come to light...Spooooky!

In order to begin trying to resolve the problem, Verity soon had her sister Melody researching what she could find about the history of the Treadwell family and estate...

In the meantime, Verity had to adjust to not being paid for her first job, except in vegetables and fruits from Lee's beautiful garden...at least, Verity thought, Lucy, her pet skunk, would be thrilled with fresh fruits. And it would save money Verity didn't really have, for food... Good thing Frankie didn't eat...much...

If you enjoy ghostly shenanigans more than the heartwarming type, then this latest book is for you! The mystery is more complex and provocative and certainly grabs your interest, while producing some delightful goosebumps! Highly recommend and this one would be a good one to start reading if you haven't already been following the series! But there's still more to come! Keep watching, 'cause Dog Gone Ghost, a short story, is next.

GABixlerReviews 

Book 3 - The Haunted Heist - by Angie Fox!

I kept both hands on the soaking wet skunk in my kitchen sink while a small tsunami of water sloshed over the front of my pink sweater set and white jeans. Bath time wasn’t Lucy’s favorite recreational activity, and by extension it wasn’t mine, either. As I readjusted my grip, she braced her back legs for a wild leap onto the counter. “Lucy,” I admonished, nudging an eggshell off her petite, velvety ear, “it wasn’t my idea for you to go digging in the compost bin.” She grunted and wriggled while I slid her into a soft mound of soap bubbles and washed day-old banana off her cheeks. My little girl loved fruit and would take it any way she could get it. “You’re almost done,” I told her, rinsing the double white stripe on her back with the hand spout while she tried to eat a soap bubble. I nearly had her calm when the spirit of my

gangster housemate shimmered into view next to me. Frankie “The German” appeared in black and white, like an old movie, but I could see through him. Almost. Lucy jerked at the presence of the ghost and launched into a rolling twist that soaked me to my elbows. “Lucille Désirée Long,” I warned, regaining my grip on her. 

Frankie smoothed his 1920s-style pinstripe suit and straightened his fat tie. His long face and sharp nose made him appear every bit the utterly ruthless gangster he had been when he was alive. It would have scared me if I didn’t know him. 

“We got company.” The ghost cocked his head, and I heard the faint crunch of gravel. “A black sedan creeping down the side drive.” 

Strange. “I wasn’t expecting anyone.” 

“I got this,” he said, shoulders stiffening as he drew a revolver out of his coat pocket. 

“Frankie, wait—” It was eight in the morning. I doubted we were under attack. Frankie ducked through the back wall and out onto the porch. Lucy used my split second of distraction to break for the counter. She made it halfway across before I snagged a clean towel off the kitchen island and captured her behind the toaster. I snuggled my skunk close and towel dried her fur as I peeked out the window over the sink. A black Mercedes parked out back. 

My friend Lauralee sat in the passenger seat. Frankie holstered his gun when he saw her exit the car. 

I gripped my skunk a little tighter when Lauralee’s uncle Reggie, the big-time banker, emerged from the driver’s side. Here I stood, drenched in skunk water, with one of the most powerful men in Sugarland about to knock on my door. Lauralee had seen me at my worst, but Reggie was another matter. He’d never encountered me in anything more casual than a summer dress at a picnic. I set Lucy down on the floor. Her wet fur stood out at all angles around her scrawny little body. She appeared half her usual size when wet. “Oh my, sweetie. 

We’ve got to fix this,” I told her. Not her hair or mine. Those were lost causes. But I could still put the last of the coffee on and then raid the laundry room for a dry sweater. I was on my way to dig through my laundry pile of limited options when a horrible sight stopped me in my tracks. 

In all the excitement, it had quite slipped my mind that a huge black outdoor trash can occupied the space where my kitchen table used to stand. Worse, rich garden dirt filled it to the brim and provided a home for one very large, teetering, heirloom red rosebush. How to explain… 

I chewed my lip as my guests started up the walk. I certainly couldn’t tell them the truth: that I’d trapped the spirit of a long-dead gangster in my house and that this was part of our attempt to free him. Lauralee might understand if I could convince her ghosts were real. But Reggie would think I’d lost my mind. He was respectable, proper. He’d come back home from Chicago to take over the oldest bank in town. And if he told another soul in Sugarland, my secret would be out before suppertime. There simply had to be a way to handle this. 

I’d hide it in the parlor. Curling my fingers around the edge of the trash can, I pulled hard. It slid… a bit. It was heavier than I’d imagined. I gritted my teeth, wincing as my arm stretched half out of its socket while I dragged the can one foot, two feet, almost three… 

“Where do you think you’re going with that?” Frankie demanded.

“We have to hide… you,” I said, having no time to sugarcoat it. It was either that or reveal his final resting place to my guests. Then I’d have to somehow explain that I’d mistaken Frankie’s urn for a dirty old vase and dumped his ashes out into my rosebushes, grounding him on my property. And that we’d moved him inside for safekeeping. “Please step aside.” I could walk through him, but it would give both of us an icy shock. 

“I ain’t going anywhere.” He removed his white Panama hat. “Those are my ashes you’re messing with.” He pointed his hat at the mess. “My urn.” Heavens to Betsy, we’d left his urn nestled at the bottom of the rosebush. I met Frankie trash-can-to-hips, eye-to-eye, trying not to let my gaze wander to the neat, round bullet hole smack dab in the middle of his pasty white forehead. He hadn’t gotten it by being a nice guy. 

“Please, Frankie,” I said, praying he had a sliver of gentleman in him, “I’m not ready to explain this to company.”

“You don’t got much of a choice. That can ain’t budging.” Frankie glided toward the back wall while I took hold of the trash can and pulled with all my might until I succeeded in tugging it into the parlor. Except the parlor held my only piece of furniture suitable for entertaining company— a purple velvet couch I’d gotten in exchange for solving a ghostly problem. Frankie shoved his head through the back wall and whistled. “Smokes. Get a load of that sharp suit.” 

“Frankie!” I protested. “You’re not helping.” He didn’t even bother to take his head out of the wall. “You know I can’t move anything on the mortal plane.” That wasn’t the point. I put my butt to the can and pushed backward, nudging it toward an out-of-the-way out-of-the-way corner. It slid two feet, then two more, probably leaving a mud spot on my white pants. Nobody but me could see Frankie, and if I could just get rid of the evidence… 

“The big cheese is coming up the porch steps,” Frankie called. “Spit-shined shoes. Ritzy watch. I do like his style,” he added, almost to himself. “What do you suppose he wants with you?” My sneakers slipped on the hardwood. Dirt spilled from the top of the can. I’d barely made it past the fireplace. “Your friend’s carrying a box. They’re at the door now.” 

No. A knock sounded. We were out of time. The lower branches of the rosebush flopped toward my face as I forced the can back against the wall by the antique marble fireplace in the parlor. In one smooth move, I grabbed the bedsheet from the futon and tossed it over the rosebush. “There.” 

“That looks worse,” Frankie said.

It would have to do. I frantically brushed dirt from my white jeans and wet sweater, and tried to pat down my hair as I hurried to answer the door. 

Lucy, who loved visitors, ran from the main hallway to join me. She grunted with excitement, her scraggly little body churning with each step. 

Oh, to be a skunk without a mirror. I opened the door and tried for my most carefree smile. “Good morning!”

!!!

The Haunted Heist:

The Southern Ghost Hunter Mysteries

By Angie Fox

The Beginning of Book 3 of The Southern Ghost Hunter Mysteries gives readers the perfect opportunity to get to know the lighter side of Verity's living with her housemates - Lucy and Frankie. You see, we open with Verity having to give a bath to Lucy for getting in their garden compost and now being covered by the mixture...banana peelings, egg shells and all!😒

And just for good measure, Frankie pops in next to the two of them--Lucy does not like Frankie and she struggles to run away...

So that when Verity has the first warning of company visiting, she is, ah, not exactly looking like it's time to meet and greet...

Lauralee was one of her best friends, so she didn't mind her visiting, but she had brought her uncle, who had come back to Sugarland to take over the town's bank... Thankfully, Reggie was a good man and handled Verity's embarrassment in a gentlemanly fashion. And by the time the visit was over Verity was scheduled to meet with him about a job at the bank! A real job, using her design expertise! 

Only thing is, when she was in the midst of the interview, Reggie was called to another floor for an emergency situation... And died... You get the feeling that Verity is going to be chasing more ghosts for an even longer time!

Soooooo, here's a trick question! What happens if you're in the midst of digging a tunnel to rob a bank, and you die?
Well, you become a ghost and keep on digging...

Now, employees at the bank had been hearing noises in the vault for quite some time and they had wanted the new president to hear it as well, hoping they'd be able to discover what it was--was the bank haunted?

Well, of course it was--at least by one lonely ghost who hadn't been out of a tunnel for years... But, when Verity had run down to see what was happening and saw the body, and those there, she felt it had to have been one of those individuals, especially after talking with Frankie and having him check things out with his friends. Only thing was, there were marks on his body that were the signature of a known criminal, and using his normal method of operation... Of course he was dead...

Still, Frankie was happy with it all...his friend, Suds, who'd died in the tunnel, was found and Frankie broke the news that he was dead. Still, it did free him and wouldn't you know it, Suds was soon often a visitor to Verity's house...

Then there's the jilted mother-in-law who discovers Verity having dinner with another son!

Her expression hardened. “I thought you learned your lesson the first time when I took you for everything you had,” she drawled. “I’ll do it again if you’d like. Just give me an excuse.” Her lips twisted into a faint smile as she closed the door. I turned and walked away, and I kept going, even when I heard Ellis’s voice as I opened my car door. “Verity?” He sounded surprised and harried. Ellis wore a flannel work shirt, jeans, and a fine dusting of plaster that would have been endearing if he hadn’t appeared almost as frightened as he was confused at my sudden appearance on his front porch. “I have to go,” I said as his mother stepped onto the porch behind him, her arms crossed in front of her. I’d had a bad day and knew better than to stay for round two with Virginia. I’d come to him bruised and battered enough. And I believed her threat. She would enjoy hurting me.

Now you've got to admit, the minor plots in this series are outrageously enjoyable...A Pet skunk, ghost house guests, a furious jilted-to-be-mother-in-law who is not only vengeful but willing to act to ruin Verity's life in any way she can!

Plus a murder mystery to be solved. And instead of starting a new advertising campaign for the bank president, Verity is once again helping to solve the latest mystery by working with her unseen "confidential informants..." This mystery is complex, intriguing, and certainly surprising as it develops, as secrets start coming out from both humans...and...ghosts!

Delightfully entertaining! A winning series from an excellent mystery writer!


GABixlerReviews

Southern Spirits by Angie Fox - Series Debut

Frankie scooted to the edge of the counter. "Now listen up. 'Cause here's what we do," he said, clasping his hands in front of him, his elbows resting on his knees.
"What we do?" I asked. I didn't recall teaming up with a dead gangster. 
"Oh?" He opened his hands. "So you have ideas?" 
"No," I said grudgingly. He scratched at his long, thin nose. "Okay, here's the deal. Old lady Hatcher's not-so-dearly departed husband came across some cash in 1965." He gave me a long look. "It's more than you need." 
My spine stiffened. He was talking about saving my house. Whatever he was about to suggest couldn't be good. Did I dare? 
"How did the money come about?" I absolutely refused to get involved in anything illegal. 
Frankie shrugged. "He bet his entire mortgage payment on a long-shot horse. The damn thing won. He hid the money on his property. Only he was an idiot and died right after he stashed it." 
I'd heard that last part of the story. Maisie Hatcher had dug up every tree, shrub, and flower patch in her backyard, looking for the fortune her husband hid. "She swore there was money under one of the trees on her property. We always thought she was crazy." 
The corner of his mouth turned up. "It's not under a tree. It's hidden in a box with a tree carved on the top." 
Well, didn't that beat all? I strolled toward the ghost, feeling brave. Or maybe I needed to show him that I wasn't as scared anymore. "You'd think her husband could have left better directions." 
He shrugged. "Oskar Hatcher was an asshole. Still is." 
I cocked my head. "How do you know?" 
"He's behind you." The air left my body. I screeched and spun around fast, my heart jackhammering against my chest. I couldn't see anything in the dark. 
"Where is he?" Frankie's chuckle behind me sounded like gravel over rocks. 
"Your friend's right. You really are gullible." "You're such a jerk." A chill washed over me as the sweat on my body cooled. I turned back to him. 
"How long were you watching me?" 
He didn't buckle under my stare. "Don't flatter yourself. I spend most of my time picking up dames at the cemetery. Or I tool around, see who's manifesting." He grinned. "Those Johnny Rebs from the 12th Infantry throw a wicked poker game. And half of 'em don't know how to bluff." He stood taller. "I did stick around for the sale. I can't believe that crappy lawn furniture went before I did." 
He'd succeeded in wigging me out on about ten different levels. But now wasn't the time to think about it. I needed to channel my inner Scarlet O'Hara. I'd asked for a miracle and I'd gotten one… sort of. At least I'd been given one more chance, with money that was more or less clean. Abandoned, at least. "Okay, so we go to Maisie Hatcher's house," I began. 
"Wait. You can't leave here." 
He cocked his head. "I can if I'm with you." 
I stood surprised for a moment, and not in a good way. "Okay. We'll leave. We'll talk to Maisie..."

~~~

I fell in love with this series from the first book! It is delightful, so delightful that I knew I wanted to read the entire series and follow it... Haven't said that for a very long time. But, hey, with a gutsy young lady who backed out of a wedding with the most eligible bachelor in town, when she discovers her fiancee assaulting her sister, is my kind of woman!

And it certainly wasn't her fault that that same fiancee had once given her a funeral urn containing the ashes of a long-departed relative! 

Well, let's go back to the wedding reception where Verity had appeared after leaving Beau, her fiancee at the altar and then attacked him at the reception...where his mother fainted, and then promptly thereafter sued Verity for the costly wedding that she had arranged for her son! Life is just not fair! But she didn't want to have the gossip all over their small town about what he'd done to her sister, as well as cheating on her with several other women...

So she was now living in her empty beautiful family home which she'd inherited from her grandmother. She'd sold everything that she could bear giving up, which was most everything, but she still owed $20,000 and the house was to be auctioned for that!

One of the things that had not sold was that old gift from Beau which she thought was a vase. Deciding to leave it on the mantel for the sale, she looked inside and realized how dirty it was, went outside and poured the contents around the rosebush and watered it down so it'd sink in...

And there was Frankie...who promptly screamed out what she'd done. Give you this, Verity is one cool lady and it didn't take long for her to adjust to seeing a ghost and begin to discuss what had been happening and why she had even had his ashes... But no matter what, Frankie was now doomed to live under a rose bush and could no longer roam free to pursue his former life as, now, a gangster ghost, as he had done while living... Of course, his hat covered the bullet hole in his forehead, and he appeared only in black and white, but Verity soon was at least talking with him, both wondering what to do next...

Bottom line, if Verity didn't find $20,000 immediately, for Frankie, he'd be stuck at a home where new people would be invading at any moment... He decided to help...

He just happened to know a certain ghost who had made a bundle on a race but who had died before he could use it...and Frankie would help Verity find it!

One thing you'll quickly find out about Verity is that she is completely honest, while Frankie is completely the opposite, so you'll be reading many negotiation discussions about what Frankie wants to do versus what Verity is willing to allow! And these discussions are so much a part of the fun found by all readers!

And the problem with getting the money was that the widow of the man who'd hidden the money had been looking for it for years and was barely getting by herself...

Even worse, when they entered the house where the money had been hidden, let's just say that Frankie wasn't the only ghost there...

I gripped my flashlight and summoned up my courage. "I love my house," I reminded myself on a whisper before squeezing my eyes shut tight. I steeled my courage, made sure my mouth was closed firm, and stepped forward. I love my house. I held my breath and reached out my hands. They tangled in the cold, filmy, sticky, otherworldly web. I love my house. I pressed forward as it touched my face and wound through my hair. I love my house. I screamed it in my head as the fibers caressed my arms and goose bumps rippled over my skin. That web felt like a living, breathing entity. It stretched out in front of me, surrounding me, blocking my way until… With a soft whoosh, I broke through.

The merge of the ghost interaction with actually solving a mystery is what makes this series so special. The characters are outstanding in their developed personalities. Each have stories that will draw you to care about them, especially some of the ghosts! Who knew?!😏

This author has a great gift in her story telling. It's imaginative, it's endearing, heartwarming, and yet, scary enough to enjoy being a little afraid... I especially enjoy the skill given to Verity in negotiating and working through tough situations, with humans...or...not...  No wonder Fox is a best selling author and I'm certainly glad I finally found her! Next review on a short story, A Ghostly Gift... Enjoy!


GABixlerReviews

Read-A-Thon - A Needed Spring Break! With Author Angie Fox!

I was looking out the window of my little office, seeing the sun shining, here and there flowers popping up, shouting that Spring was here... And I found I couldn't do it--I couldn't pick up another book to read and review. Wasn't it Spring Break time? Well, some outside time did come into play. But, a reader is a reader is a reader... So when I want a break, I looked for a book that looked like fun...

I came across a book that is now free by Angie Fox. It definitely looked like fun, but it was also the first in a mystery series--my favorite. I had not read this author but I enjoyed the cover art that made me feel like this was an author who liked making people happy... I wanted a little light "happy" right then...

And you know what, I finished that first book and went online and downloaded every single book in the series, including the latest one just out! After reading many, I read a note from the author about her taking time off from writing to take on a new series and read through them until finished before she went back to work... Wow! I new I'd found a kindred spirit so, of course, she's now on my "top favorite author" list! If that means anything to anybody else besides me...😍

So, during Easter week, I went on a Read-A-Thon with Angie Fox! Nothing else but moving from one book to another, and enjoying every single one of them!

Do you ever feel like you just need a break from your routine? I can tell you that if you need laughs, smiles, plus meeting lots and lots of ghosts that are also fun to get to know...try your own Read-A-Thon! Just sit back and enjoy and you don't even have to write a review, if you don't feel like it... This lady gets lots of them... Still, I couldn't really stand NOT to share about each one! But that's just me...👻

Before I start telling you about the books, meet Angie!

New York Times bestselling author Angie Fox writes sweet, fun, action-packed mysteries. Her characters are clever and fearless, but in real life, Angie is afraid of basements, bees, and going up stairs when it is dark behind her. Let’s face it. Angie wouldn’t last five minutes in one of her books.

Angie is best known for her SOUTHERN SPIRITS™ mysteries and for her ACCIDENTAL DEMON SLAYER series.

Angie is a graduate of the University of Missouri School of Journalism. She lives in St. Louis with her football-addicted husband, two kids, and Moxie the dog.