The Reading Addict: Stilettos & Gunpowder by Gail Koger (VBB, excerpt, and GIVEAWAY) GFT

Gail Koger

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GENRE: Action/adventure Romantic Comedy

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BLURB:

My name is Gemma Stone. I’m a Maricopa County Sheriff’s Deputy and not only must I deal with the sweat-soaked misery of the Arizona desert, I get to respond to a bunch of crazy 9-1-1 calls all day long. Like a parakeet up a tree, or a car accident where a tractor trailer full of fireworks is hit and the 4th of July comes a bit early.

But some days crime takes a deadly turn. Police cars are suddenly blowing up. Detective Sergeant Dante Delgado, the love of my life, was assigned to track down and stop the bomber. Am I worried? You betcha. There’s a madman on the loose and he is very, very good at making bombs.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, the Feds think I’m in cahoots with an Iraqi warlord who deals in stolen antiquities, Ichabod, my murderous ex-dance partner, escapes from prison and I’m suddenly in everyone’s crosshairs.

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EXCERPT

“Damn!” Frank spat and slammed on the brakes.

The seatbelt abruptly clamped around my chest. “Holy crap!” The skinny, white male with the feathered headdress and loincloth was doing his war dance in the middle of the road. I keyed my mic, “Charlie-23 show us out at 85th Avenue and Bell Road with a male dancing in the middle of the street.”

“Copy, Charlie-23,” the dispatcher responded.

A truck narrowly missed the demented dancer. Did he notice? Nope. With his loin cloth flapping in the wind, he shook his hips in what looked like a weird belly-dance. Then he switched to the Texas two-step.

“Ugh. I really don’t want to make another arrest today,” I grumbled.

Frank nodded. “Me, either.”

“Stay with our prisoner. I’ll handle the boogie man.” I got out of the car before Frank could protest and approached the moron. “Sir, if you feel the need to dance, could you do it on the sidewalk?”

He took one look at me, shrieked and bolted down the roadway, yelling, “It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me.” Horns honking, cars swerved around him.

“Aw, c’mon! It’s too dang hot to be running.” Did he listen? Hell, no. I trotted after him. It wasn’t like he could run very fast in flip-flops. “Stop! Now! You’re gonna get hit!”

The overhead lights flashing on the patrol car, Frank followed behind us.

The fool lost his flip-flops and did a crazy hippity-hoppity dance over to a circle of grass on the highway median.

I picked up his flip-flops. The pavement was about 180 degrees, and he wasn’t going anywhere without his shoes. “Why are you running?”

“I don’t want to go to jail,” he wheezed.

“And I don’t want to arrest you.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope. What’s your name?”

“Tim White.”

“Okay, Tim, what’s up with the dancing?”

He shrugged. “I’m just trying to spread a little joy.”

“Un-huh. Does it look like it’s working?”

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AUTHOR Bio and Links:

I was a 9-1-1 dispatcher for the Glendale Police Department and to keep from going totally bonkers – I mean people have no idea what a real emergency is. Take this for example: I answered, “9-1-1 emergency, what’s your emergency?” And this hysterical woman yelled, “My bird is in a tree.” Sometimes I really couldn’t help myself, so I said, “Birds have a tendency to do that, ma’am.” The woman screeched, “No! You don’t understand. My pet parakeet is in the tree. I’ve just got to get him down.” Like I said, not a clue. “I’m sorry ma’am but we don’t get birds out of trees.” The woman then cried, “But… What about my husband? He’s up there, too.” See what I had to deal with? To keep from hitting myself repeatedly in the head with my phone I took up writing.

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