Emmy Grace's Blog

It's been a while, hasn't it? To say that life has been insane this year would be a tragic understatement. I think we can all agree on that. 2020 has taken the entire world by storm, and as a creative, I can confidently say that it has thrown me for a loop.

My ability to focus has fallen somewhere between Lucky Boucher and someone drools and tries to eat Checkers. However, after months of this, I've finally managed to wrestle my brain into some amount of submission. At least enough to be able to string words together into coherent sentences. That's sort of important for a writer, know what I mean?

So, without further ado, I'd like to share some details on my upcoming project with you. It's full of amazing characters, hilarious mishaps, and cute animals. Of course. I didn't get a personality transplant, y'all:)

These stories will have the added zing of some ghosts, a hot boss, and a brat pack of elderly men who can't agree on anything except their ability to get into trouble and their shared affection for Daisy Harper. Make your reservations now, folks. Restless, South Carolina is a great place to vacation, especially if you don't mind a dead roommate or two:)

DAISY AND THE DEAD

RELEASING OCTOBER 1, 2020

What do a recovering romance writer, an ornery kitten, and a town full of ghosts have in common?

Unfortunately, until further notice, that would be me.

I was two months late on rent when my father called asking for my help. One of his old timer friends named Big Lou disappeared and, for reasons he refused to divulge, Dad didn’t want the cops involved. There also happened to be an opening at the local newspaper. He didn’t tell me what the job entailed, and I didn’t ask. I just needed to be able to pay my rent, so I packed up my cat and we headed to Restless, South Carolina.

Restless is a small town much like the one I grew up in, only with one not-so-small difference. Restless gets its name from all the restless spirits that haunt the place. In other words, it’s overrun by ghosts.

Yep, you read that right. Ghosts! As if that weren’t bad enough, my car keeps overheating, my neighbor has a penchant for gardening in the nude, and my boss is as suspicious as he is hot. But the real kicker is that the moment I arrive in town, I start hearing voices. Human voices. Only these are coming from my cat. If you think that sounds crazy, just wait until you hear what the dead are planning. It's enough to keep a girl up at night.

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Of course she throws knives! This is Lucky Boucher, and she is like Emmy 2.0. Even as a kid, I wanted to be able to throw knives. I mean, it looked so cool to see people do it on television and in movies. Unfortunately, my attempts weren't nearly as successful as Lucky's. However, I do have to admit that once, in a fit of temper, I threw a pencil at the wall and IT STUCK! Almost like I'd done it on purpose. Now, should this have given me the confidence to throw something sharper and deadlier at a living creature? Say, for instance, my husband? According to him, no. It should not have. To this day he hasn't agreed to let me throw (something softer) at him, but I refuse to give up. And if he ever gives in, THERE WILL BE VIDEO. That I can assure you:) Until then, I have some mental images for you. At one point, these even include Jon Bon Jovi. Who's up for that? Lucky and the Crushed Clown is LIVE and FREE with Kindle Unlimited! Don't wait. Just go ahead and jump right in now:) https://smarturl.it/Lucky4Amz Here's a little about it: What do a dead clown, an elephant, and a black cat have in common? If you guessed me, you’re getting really good at this. The circus has come to town, y’all, and I couldn’t be happier if I were twins. Unfortunately, because of a recent development with the grouchy ex-FBI agent that has become my shadow, I have to sit this one out. That is, until a clown is crushed by Lola the elephant, and not by accident. That’s when Miss Haddy, the oldest and most rambunctious resident in all of Salty Springs, calls me in to help find the killer. As it turns out, circus folk aren’t very welcoming to outsiders, so there’s only one way to identify the culprit—go undercover. As a bona fide knife-throwing, cat-wielding performer.  Sounds like a dream come true, right? Well, as with the majority of my endeavors, this exploit doesn’t exactly go off without a hitch. In fact, this time there are stitches involved. Not in good places. And not just for me. But the big question remains: Do I catch the killer? You’ll just have to brave the series of wild mishaps that is my life to find out.

Okay, so not the REAL Patrick Swayze, obviously. But if you're a fan of Patrick or Dirty Dancing or the 80s or just FUN, this book is for you! I wanted to give you a sneak peek of chapter one, not because of Patrick or dancing or the 80s, but just because Lucky makes me laugh. I hope she does you, too:) CHAPTER 1 “Let me get this straight. You’re going to let an old woman who can hardly walk and has the disposition of a cornered Tasmanian devil teach you how to shoot a gun?” Regina looks positively horrified. “Well, when you say it like that…” “It’s the truth, though. That’s the scariest part.” “Believe it or not, I bet Mrs. Snuffleupagus is the perfect person to teach me. Something tells me she was a bad-A in her younger years. She was probably instrumental in turning a war or something.” Regina is my best friend, and she and I grew up creating nicknames for people based on their physical characteristics. You can just imagine the long, droopy nose of my landlady, Mrs. Stephanopoulos, to make a moniker such as Snuffleupagus feasible. “Probably. Like the first World War.” “She’s not that old.” “Lucky, I’ve seen younger artifacts from the life of Jesus.” “Now you’re just being dramatic.” “I’ve learned from the best,” she quips, running her hand over the dress she brought me to wear. “What’s with you tonight? Did something ruffle your pretty peacock feathers?” Regina is the primpiest person I know. I think she puts on makeup both before and after her shower. “Stop. I’m not that primpy.” From the mirror of my vanity, I tilt my head and shoot her a wry look. “Fine. I like to look nice. It’s not a crime.” “It’s most certainly not. And you’re very good at it.” She’s effortlessly gorgeous. She’s as Cajun as my adopted grandmother, Beebee, and her coloring is similar. Smooth caramel skin, dark wavy hair, darker brown eyes. While she normally has a great sense of style to go along with her beauty, tonight’s outfit is one of my favorites, but not for the reason one might think. Regina is wearing a cream-colored sweater with brown polka dots. It makes me think of chocolate chip ice cream, which is basically two of my favorite favorite foods rolled into one— chocolate and ice cream. Then again, many things remind me of food because one of my favorite hobbies is eating. Who am I kidding? It’s hands down my favorite thing to do. “You shouldn’t wear that top around me,” I mumble distractedly. “What? Why?” “Because it reminds me of ice cream. With chocolate chips. Sugary decadence dunked in more sugary decadence. And I don’t need to be thinking about food anymore than I already do.” I lean to one side and smack my butt cheek. “This trunk doesn’t need any more junk in it.” Regina is looking at me like I’m a toddler throwing a tantrum in the dairy aisle at the grocery store. Her tone matches that very scenario. It’s rife with barely-there tolerance. “So, what colors would you suggest I wear that would help to maximize your weight loss?” “Maybe gray? It’s a great color on you. Plus, it might remind me of being outside on the sidewalk. Like, jogging or something. And you know how much I hate to exercise.” Regina hangs her head and mutters, “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.” “How is it any weirder than all the other stupid things we talk about in a week’s time?” “Good point,” she acquiesces. “Okay, so back to these shooting lessons.” “I’m not going to start strapping a pistol to my leg, Regina, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s just for safety, for the odd occasion when I might get in a bind. Like I did with Leopardo.” That’s the name of the cartel guy who gave me a little scare a few weeks ago. Okay, fine. It was more than a little. “The odd occasion? You mean daily, right?” “I’m not that prone to getting into trouble.” “Lucky, you need a bigger security team than the President of the United States.” I spin on my chair, one eye fully made up, the other not. “Okay, what gives?” “I don’t know what you—” “Liar, liar, pants on fire.” “It’s nothing. I—” “Fibber!” “It’s just… Alex asked me out again.” “Is that a bad thing?” Alex is the nice guy she went out with right before her ex made an unexpected appearance in her life last month. She blew Alex off for coffee the next morning because she was…otherwise engaged. “I just…I’m so embarrassed.” She drops her face into her hands. “You’re being crazy. He will understand. Just be honest with him. Tell him someone showed up unexpectedly and you had to deal with some things.” “I didn’t deal with anything. My vigilante, Calamity-Jane-wannabe best friend did.” “He doesn’t need to know that.” “So you think I should go back out with him?” “Do you like him?” She nods. “Do you think he’s a pretty nice guy?” She nods again. “Is he hot enough for all your Cajun heat?” At that she giggles. “Maybe. We’ll see.” “Then, yes, I think you should go back out with him. See where it goes anyway. No one ever got anywhere by playing it safe.” “If that’s not your life motto, I don’t know what is.” “As a matter of fact, it is.” I wink my unmade-up eye at her. She scrunches up her face. “Gross. Turn around and finish your face. That one eye thing is freaking me out. You look like Marilyn Manson.” I narrow my eyes and then make the unmade-up one as big as I can, turning so it looks like I’m giving her the cursed eye. “What did you say, infidel?” “Stop it! You’re gonna give me nightmares.” Regina actually shivers, which, of course, also makes me giggle. “You’re too easy.” “That’s what he said,” she rejoins with a snort. “Nice.” I hold my hand up above my head, palm facing her. She leans over and smacks it for a high five. As I’m putting the finishing touches on my face, I see my little pig, Gumbo, the newest addition to my pet menagerie, pop into my field of vision. He meets my eyes in the mirror, gives me a hearty oink, and then trots over to my purse where it’s lying on the floor. Gumbo loves to root around in pretty much anything, so if it’s low enough for him to stick his snout in, he makes a beeline for it. Just before he can successfully bury his nose in the center pocket, I leap up. “Gumbo, no!” I lunge for my purse, swiping it up to get it out of his reach. Gumbo glares up at me. If a pig could frown, I’d swear he was frowning at me. “I’m sorry, buddy, but there’s a dangerous thing in here. You can’t be nudging a stun gun. It’s liable to turn your hide into pork rinds.” I take it out and set my bag back down for him to play with. He immediately dives in. I stand and watch him, smiling down at the cute little guy. He’s much less destructive if I keep him occupied. He’s very smart and very curious, so as long as I have things around for him to investigate, he’s a happy porker. Much like me. “What’s that?” Regina asks. “It’s the stun gun Mrs. S. let me borrow. I tried to give it back to her, but she made me keep it until she can get me trained on a real gun.” “What does it do?” “I’ve never used one, but evidently, you push this button and press these two little metal things into someone’s skin and—” A jolt of electricity zings through me. I feel stiff as a board and tingly from head to toe. The last thing I remember thinking is that I didn’t intend to actually hit the button. To find out to what crazy lengths this story goes, you can grab your copy HERE, and I absolutely suggest that you do. Come on, laugh it up! You know you want to:)

Even though it's only been 2 weeks since book 1 released, I feel like I've been waiting for this day forEVER! I'm so excited to bring you LUCKY AND THE AXED ACCOUNTANT (click HERE if you haven't already downloaded it and click HERE if you haven't read book 1). I know I'm biased, but I really feel that these books just get better and better. I fall more in love with the characters, their world, their drama, and, of course, Lucky's disastrously charming life with every word I write. I guess, ideally, this is the way an author is supposed to feel about her work. I just never have. But wow! What a huge blessing! So today I'm feeling doubly "lucky." I hope you'll pick up this book and get your laughter medicine for the day. If you do, be sure to holler at me out in cyber land. I would love, love, love to hear what your favorite part of the story was:) Also, if you like FREE stuff, I'm doing a giveaway in my Lucky's Ladies reader group HERE. Stop by if you have a minute. A signed paperback of book 1 is up for grabs:) Happy, happy reading!

Let me preface this with the fact that if you haven't read LUCKY AND THE FALLING FELON yet, you totally should. It will help you understand why this post proves my similarity to her. They say there is a part of an author in all of his or her work. Well, lemme tell ya, you don't have to look far to see what parts of me are revealed in Lucky Boucher. Take two days ago for instance. I'm throwing ingredients into my Nutribullet cup, preparing to make a smoothie out of items in my fridge that were near expiration. Okay, fine, some of them had exceeded that date, BUT they were fine. Nothing was slimy or smelly when it shouldn't have been slimy and/or smelly (if you'd like a list of ingredients because now you're dying of curiosity, email me). Anyway, so I put it all in the cup part, screwed on the blade, gave it a good shake, then stuck it on the base to blend. While it was turning healthy green-and-purple things into what looked like something a toddler threw up, I put away what needed to go back into the cabinet. Then I started to smell something strange. Something kind of smokey. Like, you know, smoke. And it was coming from my Nutribullet. Evidently, and I didn't know this because I'm just as allergic to reading instructions and manuals as Lucky is, you aren't supposed to blend for more than one minute at a time. If you exceed said one minute, evidently the Nutribullet becomes Linda Blair and starts spitting pea soup everywhere as she attempts to burn the joint down. By the time I realized what was happening, I was afraid to touch it. I mean, that thing has parts that could, if broken and projected correctly, impale squishy flesh. And I have lots of squishy flesh, y'all, but I like it like it is—unimpaled, thank you very much. But the smoking thing was really starting to freak me out, which meant I had to eventually approach the device in question. So, just like Lucky, I pulled on my big girl pants and went to turn it off. I unplugged it for good measure, but by that point, I was having major trust issues with it, so I ended up taking it outside. And not just outside as in onto the porch. The last thing I needed was for it to catch fire and set the homestead ablaze. No, I took it outside outside. Like many feet from the flammable parts of my house. That kind of outside. After sulking in the sun and rain and scary night hours for two solid days, I took pity on the poor thing and brought it inside to the garbage. That was as nice a sendoff as I could manage. At least I didn't bury it in the back yard. So long, green Nutribullet. You've now been replaced by a gray model that I hope will far exceed your abilities and will pose no threat to life, limb, or home. And just because I was feeling super responsible when I met New Nutribullet, I even read the directions on her use. That's how I know you can't blend for more than one minute. The moral of the story? I have a lot in common with Lucky Boucher. And you should really, really read the directions. Save yourself some kitchen appliances. To meet Lucky (not the real life one), click here. She's either 99 pennies or FREE with Kindle Unlimited:) Until the next incident...

Granted, this is unusual for me, but I'm going to keep this short and simple. LUCKY AND THE FALLING FELON are coming for you, and I promise you don't want to miss them! To be continued...