OK, the title alone has me cracking a grin. Can you imagine what is inside? Take a peek with this excerpt and then download your own copy. Be sure to let the author know what you think in the comments section as you follow the tour. Best of luck entering the giveaway!
If you like a bit of humor in your mysteries, you'll want to check out The Accidental Detective series by Kris Bock. Preview each of the books and then follow the tour for even more. Best of luck in the giveaway!
We could all use a little levity and happiness right now, wouldn't you say? So embrace this excerpt from Funny and Ironic: Amazing, Happy and Feel Good Stories by Marco di Noia. You'll find even more as you follow the tour, but you can always download your own copy to further enjoy. Let the author know your thoughts along the way. Best of luck entering the giveaway!
Read an exclusive excerpt:
The Super Horse
If there was a horse that could swim faster than he could run, then you could take him to the beach and ride him in the surf.
There was a big horse, who was shiny and black, with a jet-black mane. This horse loved to rescue people and wanted to join the lifeguards.
The lifeguards wanted this horse as a rescue horse. He could run on the sand yet could swim faster than he could run.
If you were swimming and saw a shark, the shark would never catch you, with the horse of course.
There was a shark, and of course, the horse was not scared for obvious reasons, and the horse ran on the sand and swam out to a boy and rescued him from the shark. He was a super horse. WHAT A HORSE!
“While he talked, he kept slamming his fist against the countertops. He threw things like the salt and pepper shakers and the tea kettle across the room, and slammed a couple of open drawers shut. Each slam sounded like a gunshot to me. He went on and on. Luke always did like the sound of his own voice. I sat there waiting for the first punch, the first shove, the first something. I remember thinking that I knew he wouldn’t stop this time. I knew Luke was getting ready to kill me. I waited for the end. And I know this sounds crazy, but I remember that I was thinking that poor Bea was going to come home to a horrible mess in her house. Isn’t that the craziest thing?”
“You’re a kind person. It doesn’t surprise me a bit, honestly. Did he hurt you badly, Helen?”
“No,” she said, simply, “Bea killed him.”
Libby felt the weight of the coming conversation bear down on her shoulders like a lead blanket and struggled to find the right words.
“It’s all right, Libby,” Mae said, interrupting her thoughts. “Say what you need to. We’re here for a reason. We both know it.”
Shocked by her mother’s perception, Libby stared at Mae.
The older woman’s eyes were moist but holding back. She continued. “Spit it out, honey. I won’t have a public tantrum. It’s obvious you have something important to talk to me about, and I think you’ve delayed long enough.”
Libby’s shoulders slumped. “How’d you know?”
“Well, let’s examine the facts...” Mae grinned despite the gravity of the moment. “You took me to church, plied me with brunch, and now you’re standing there biting your bottom lip raw. Daddy used to call that your tell. We always knew something was wrong if your bottom lip looked like it had a run-in with a cheese grater.”
“Huh?” Libby ran her tongue over her bottom lip. “I never noticed.”
“In your teens, we were pretty sure you were going to bite clean through it,” Mae joked. “At least your nervous habit isn’t offensive; whenever Kevin lies, he grabs his testicles. Since the day he was born that boy treated his penis like an accessory. It’s terribly inappropriate, especially at parties.”
“Excuse me,” I say as I try to catch the bartender’s attention. The bartender, however, is more interested in the young girls prancing around than in me. I sigh and lean onto the bar ensuring that the girls are visible. “Excuse me,” I say again, but this time I use a sultry voice – or at least that’s what I’m going for. The bartender finally looks my way and I smile when I see his eyes immediately lured to my cleavage. Gotcha! “Tequila shot with a beer chaser, please.” He jumps to fulfill my order, but nearly trips as he attempts to maintain eye contact with my bosom and reach for the tequila bottle at the same time.
I hear someone chuckle beside me and turn to see a hotter than hot piece of male specimen staring at me. I immediately feel my face burn. The bartender saves me by slamming my drinks down in front of me. I grab the tequila shot and quickly down it before latching onto the beer to soothe my burning esophagus. Good thing I have lots of practice or I would probably spit the beer out like a college freshman during rush week, although I may have coughed just a teensy bit.
Sufficiently fortified, I turn to the man again and notice him watching me. He raises an eyebrow. “I tried that trick earlier,” he says, tilting his head towards the bar, “but the bartender didn’t seem impressed with my assets.” I look him up and down. “You look pretty hot to me,” I say and then slap my hand over my mouth when I realize my comment probably sounded like some lame pick-up line. “Sorry.” Is it possible for my face to spontaneously burst into flames? “Sometimes my mouth opens before my brain can stop it.”
The man laughs and shakes his head. He reaches out to shake my hand just as a loud, obnoxious bell rings. “That’s my cue,” I say as I jump off the barstool. I wobble a bit, and hottie reaches out to steady me with his hand on my elbow. I gasp as a current of pure electricity moves through my arm. I startle and nearly trip in my heels.
I manage to steady myself and smile at Mr. Dreamboat before going off to search for Jack. Before I can find him, I catch sight of another cocktail waitress. I grab a glass of red before locating Jack, who is surrounded by women who are obviously on the prowl. To the casual observer, he seems to be reveling in the attention, but I see his eyes frantically search the room before landing on me. I immediately stalk forward, grab his hand, and pull him away.
There was a red telephone box on the pavement outside. The light inside was bright – so bright that Kevin couldn’t see in – and yet the light didn’t illuminate the area immediately around it. Even the black letters of the backlit TELEPHONE sign were indistinct due to the brightness of the light behind them. The obtrusiveness of the light made it difficult to see what was beyond it. As he walked slowly past Where’s black cab, he noticed that the telephone box was not reflected in its windows or polished paintwork. Thoughts of vampires crept through his imagination.
“Doctor?” he called.
“What now? Can’t you see I’m busy?”
“Well, no.”
Once he’d skirted around the phone box, Kevin could see that the Doctor was somewhat stretched. He was standing on the bonnet of the cab, with the tip of one finger on its badge and the other touching the crown symbol above the TELEPHONE sign, which was at the very limit of his reach.
“It’d be a lot easier and faster if I could put my whole hand on both of them,” he said.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing, lad?”
“Um. Is it kinda like when you have to jump-start a car with another one?”
“Yes, it’s kinda like that,” the Doctor panted. “And before you point it out in your own wonderfully literal way, yes: I’m kinda like a time-travelling breakdown recovery service.” He paused to catch his breath again, and winced. “And I can tell you it’s not particularly pleasant being the wiring. Thankfully, Where’s Spectrel should shortly recover enough to be able to take a transdimensional feed off mine. Ouch!”
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Laying in my womb-like chrysalis, I returned the phone call. On the third ring, my best friend answered. “Hey Amy. How’s it going? Why didn’t you answer?”
I started laughing hysterically at the situation. “I’ve been taken hostage by my sheets and they won’t let me go.”
A long pause followed my announcement. Finally I heard a soft chuckle. “Should I call the police? Or search and rescue?”
“Both,” I snorted mid laugh.
Her chuckle intensified. “Oh my god, you’re serious aren’t you?”
“Yes. I’m lying here, on the floor, wrapped up like some sunshine burrito, and I can’t get out.”
I had to hold the phone away from my head because she was laughing so hard. “Why are you laughing at a time like this? My dignity is at stake!”
Rustling met my wheezed outburst before the line went dead. Staring up at the stained ceiling, I gave in to the hilarity of my plight. Who else could get themselves this stuck in cotton?
Calmed somewhat, and out of breath, I gave the sheets an honest fight. Sadly, they were winning. Sweating, and only slightly less trapped, I inched my way into the kitchen where the aromatic wonder that was my customary French roast tempted my bruised ego.
