Synopsis: Murder & Mayhem in Goose Pimple Junction:
When Tess Tremaine starts a new life in the colorful town of Goose Pimple Junction, curiosity leads her to look into a seventy-five-year-old murder. Suddenly she’s learning the foreign language of southern speak, resisting her attraction to local celebrity Jackson Wright, and dealing with more mayhem than she can handle.
A bank robbery, murder, and family tragedy from the 1930s are pieces of the mystery that Tess attempts to solve. As she gets close to the truth, she encounters danger, mystery, a lot of southern charm, and a new temptation for which she’s not sure she’s ready.
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About Amy:
Amy Metz is the mother of two sons and is a former first grade teacher. When not actively engaged in writing, enjoying her family, or spoiling her dog and two granddogs, Amy can usually be found with a mixing spoon, camera, or book in her hands. She lives in Louisville, Kentucky and can be reached at am*@am*****.com.
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Website: http://amymetz.com
Blog: http://abluemillionbooks.blogspot.com
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Book trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6vIbieSgVjk
Excerpt from Murder & Mayhem in Goose Pimple Junction
Chapter 1
We’ve Howdied But We Ain’t Shook Yet
Present day
“You are dumber ‘n a soup sandwich, Earl.”
“Oh yeah? Well, you’re a hole in search of a doughnut, Clive.”
Tess Tremaine walked into Slick & Junebug’s Diner, past the two gentlemen arguing at the counter, and slid into one of the red vinyl booths. The old men were arguing good-naturedly, and she imagined they were probably lifelong friends, passing the time of day.
Tess smiled as she looked around the diner. She was happy with her decision to move to this friendly town. Everyone greeted her cheerfully and went out of their way to be nice. It was a pretty place to live, too. Every street in the small town was lined with trees and old, well-kept homes with character, just like the citizens. Yes, she’d certainly made a good choice. This was a good place to heal from her divorce and start a new life.
A raised voice at the counter brought Tess out of her thoughts. One of the old men spoke loud enough for the whole diner to hear.
“If I had a dog as ugly as you, I’d shave his butt and make him walk backwards,” he said, jabbing his index finger at the other man.
A waitress appeared at the table. Tess hadn’t ever seen a beehive hairdo in person until she saw the waitress. With her pink uniform dress and white apron, she looked like she jumped out of a page from the sixties. Her name tag said, “Willa Jean.”
“Don’t mind those two old coots.” Willa Jean hitched her head in their direction. “They argue about anything, but they’re good souls underneath. Their problem is one of ‘em’s always tryin’ to one-up the other.”
She got her pad and pencil out of her front apron pocket, ready to take Tess’s order, but she stopped and cocked her head, staring hard at Tess, and smacking her gum.
“Anybody ever tell you, you look like Princess Di? I just love her, don’t you?” She bent her head slightly to the side to look at Tess’s legs under the table. “‘Cept you look a might shorter ‘n Di. How tall are you?”
“Five-five.” Tess couldn’t help smiling at the compliment.
“Yep. What we have here is a mini Diana. And your hair color is a reddish-blond instead of a blond-blonde like my girl Di. Other ‘n that, honey, you could be her clone.”
“Thank you.”
“What can I gitcha?”
“Hmmm…I think I’d like a Coke and a ham sandwich, please.”
“Anythin’ on that? Wanna run it through the garden?”
“Run it through the…” Tess’s brow furrowed.
“Yeah, you know…lettuce, tomato, and onion. The works.”
“Just mustard, please.”
Willa Jean nodded and went towards the kitchen hollering, “Walkin’ in! A Co’Cola and Noah’s boy on bread with Mississippi mud.”
Tess smiled and looked around the diner. The front counter was lined up with cake plates full of pies covered in meringue piled six inches high, cakes three and four layers tall, and two-inch thick brownies. Six chrome stools with red leather seats sat under the counter. The walls were packed with framed snapshots from as far back as the fifties. From the looks of it, they started taking pictures when poodle skirts were popular and never stopped. They were running out of wall space. The top half of the big picture window was covered with a “Henry Clay Price For Governor” banner. Tess spotted similar signs throughout the restaurant, and she’d noticed the waitress was wearing a campaign button.
The diner was only about half full with about twenty people at various tables and booths. At the next table, a young mother was having trouble with her child. Tess heard the woman say, “I mean it son, right now, I’d just as soon whoop ya as hug ya.” She looked up to see Tess watching them and said, “I’ll swan–raisin’ kids is like bein’ pecked to death by a chicken!”
Tess laughed. “I know what you mean. But you just wait. In ten years, you’ll be wishing he was five again. The time goes by so fast.”
“How many you got?”
“Just one. My son’s twenty-five now, but it doesn’t seem possible.”
“You married?” the woman cocked her head.
“Divorced,” Tess answered.
“Here’s yer Co’cola, hon,” Willa Jean said. “It’ll be just a minute more on the sandwich. You visitin’ or are ya new in town?”
“Brand new as of a week ago. I’ve been unpacking boxes for days. I guess you could say this is my debut in Goose Pimple Junction.”
“Well, we’re mighty glad to have ya, sugar. Lessee…did you buy the old Hobb house on Walnut?”
“My house is on Walnut, but I believe the previous owner’s name was York.”
“Yep, that’s the one I’m thinkin’ of. Houses ‘roundcheer are known for the families that lived in ‘em the longest. Them Hobbs had the house for over seventy years, up until old Maye Hobb Carter died a few years back. It was her late husband’s family home and then hers, even when she remarried. She was a sweet old soul, bless her heart. We all hated to lose her, but it was her time. She had a hard life and I reckon she was ready to meet her maker. Her daughter still lives in town, but she’s the only one of the Hobbs left. Mmm-mmm–the things that family went through.”
“Willa!” the cook behind the counter yelled. “Order up!”
“Hold your pants on, Slick,” she yelled and then turned back to Tess. “Be right back.” Willa hurried off to get the plate and came bustling back with Tess’s sandwich. “It was nice talkin’ with you, hon. I’ll leave you to eat in peace. Holler if you need anything else.”
A few minutes later the door to the diner opened, and almost every head turned to see who came in. Tess noticed everybody, except for her, raised a hand up in greeting, and a few said, “Hidee, Jack.” The man’s eyes caught Tess’s and held them a little longer than normal. He sat down at the counter with his back to her and ordered iced tea. Willa waited on him, and Tess heard her say, “You don’t need to be any sweeter than you already are, Jackson. I’ma give you unsweetened tea.”
“Don’t you dare Willa Jean or I will take my bidness elsewhere!”
Big flirt, Tess thought.
He was a good-looking man who looked to be in his early to mid-fifties, Tess guessed, but she wasn’t in the market. Being newly divorced, the last thing she needed was to get involved with another man. As far as I’m concerned, they’re all Martians and are to be avoided at all cost. “Men Are From Mars, And Women Are From Venus” wasn’t a best seller for nothing, she thought.
The door to the diner opened and a middle-aged man of medium height, dressed in a conservative suit and ugly tie stuck his head in. “Vote for Henry Clay Price for governor, folks,” he said, with a wide politician’s smile.
“You know it, Henry Clay. You’re our man. We’re proud as punch to have you runnin’,” Willa Jean called out.
Other than the smile, Henry Clay didn’t look like a politician. He had thinning auburn hair that was almost brown, and wore round wire-rimmed eyeglasses on a round face. He reminded Tess a little of an absentminded professor.
“Henry Clay, you’re lettin’ out all the bought air,” Slick grumped, and Henry Clay waved as he ducked out and closed the door, ambling on down the sidewalk.
Tess finished eating and walked to the counter to pay her bill. Willa gave her change and said, “Nice meetin’ ya, hon. Don’t be a stranger, now!”
As she closed the door she heard one of the men at the counter tell the other, “You’re so slow, it would take you two hours to watch 60 minutes!”
“I love this town,” Tess whispered to herself.
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