Your recurring cast…
Yes, it is all about me! Hey, it’s my blog. On a scale of 1 to 10, I’m a 40. Make that 40ish. And I’ve got the lipstick, red heels, and attitude to go with it. (Oh, and the tweezers … but I digress.) Looking for a sassy, sexy, and crazily intuitive private investigator? Look no further. Humble? Pffft … why bother? Like I said, over 40 here. Humble’s overrated. When my skirted butt hit the glass ceiling of my old PI firm, did it stop me? Hell no, I bounced right back down and hung out my own PI shingle. Talk about a well-padded butt! Wait … that came out wrong. It often does.
Six foot four, ruggedly handsome, with the most sexy brown eyes, and socks to match. He was bound for a promising career in law, until that crashed down around him when he broke confidentiality to save a kid. Best part? Even at the price of disbarment, he’d do it again. That was when he turned to PI work; that was when he turned to me. (And when he wears his motorcycle chaps, I try to get him to turn a few times more … slowly.) There’s definitely sexual tension between us. Damn it, can you say: proportional? Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about. Hmmm, did I mention he’s ten years my junior?
Rochelle’s the brilliant and classy personal assistant to one of Marport City’s highest-ranking judges. She knows most everything going on in our fair city’s justice system–the good, the bad, and the ugly. She’s also my bestie. We both love cold pizza, good wine, hot guys, Stones concerts, and oh, more wine please. Rochelle would do anything for me, and I’d do anything for her. But hey, that’s women for you.
Mrs. Jane Presley
The proprietor of the Underhill Motel, Mrs. Presley runs her no-tell joint in a no-nonsense way. Hookers and johns and (cough cough) couples looking for a quick rendezvous, know to head to the Underhill. But Mrs. P is not a woman anyone wants to cross. She’s not a madam, but she is a momma. She watches out for the girls that come in and out of the motel. Of course having two adult sons–big, tall, and ready-to-scrap mama’s boys–living on the premises helps greatly to keep trouble at bay. Mrs. P’s a shrewd business woman with a sharp tongue, but a heart of gold.
They call him Dickhead. Okay, I call him Dickhead. Hey, he has a colorful assortment of names for me too. But seriously, if there was a kick-me sign on this guy’s back, I’d be wearing pointy-toed shoes. (Also, chances are pretty good I would have put the sign there.) Every superhero–yes, even the PI ones–has to have a nemesis. Head is definitely mine. And okay, he’s not the mustache-twirling, sinisterly laughing, tie-up-the-damsel kind of evil dirt bag (full disclosure, he’s actually sorta hot), but he’s been on my ass for too damned long.
This page is under construction, so come back soon to read more. I plan to dish on every last character. Well, maybe not every character, but the important ones. We’ll even file ’em by case for you, starting with The Case of the Flashing Fashion Queen. Stay tuned!