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Meet Motts and the quirky cast of characters in her world. Poisoned Primrose is a quintessential cosy British mystery and an all-round fun story to throw yourself into.
Autistic, asexual, and almost forty, Pineapple “Motts” Mottley flees London with her cat and turtle to a quaint cottage in Cornwall. She craves the peace of life in a small village. The dead body buried in her garden isn’t quite what she had in mind, though.Unable to resist her curiosity, she falls directly into a mess of trouble and runs head-first into the attractive detective inspector, Teo Herceg. She tries to balance her business with the investigation, but as the killer focuses on her, staying alive becomes trickier than advanced origami.Will Motts survive the onslaught of murderously bad luck?Can she solve the mystery before it all spins out of control and off a cliff?
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Lemon curd on buttered toast soothed a multitude of problems. Motts had made three slices to get her through the morning. She hadn’t quite recovered despite spending an entire day alone in the cottage.
Although needing more time to recover, Motts had several early meetings. Vina had helped her connect with a few shop owners in Polperro. She hoped to convince them to consider commissioning some of her paper flower arrangements.
Motts stared mournfully into her empty mug. “Can I take a sick day?”
She ran her fingers gently over Cactus’s head, rubbing behind his ears. “Is that a yes or a no? Or do you not want to be left behind?”
I could have another piece of toast.
Procrastinating won’t erase your need to meet Marnie and Peggie.
It helped Motts that she knew both women. She’d met them several times on the Mottley family holidays to Polperro. They were lovely people who’d make her feel welcome and comfortable.
And yet, her anxiety refused to settle.
She had a lifetime of experience forcing herself to get through dealing with the world. Her autistic diagnosis had come late—in her midthirties. She’d felt relief at having answers, yet in some ways, even four years on, she continued to struggle to adjust to the paradigm shift.
Changing out of her comfy pyjamas into jeans and a long-sleeved flannel shirt, Motts stood in front of the full-length mirror on the back of the bedroom door. You can do this. Origami flowers are your bread and butter. Talk about the paper arrangements—you don’t need to make small talk.
Motts redid the buttons on her shirt. “I’m Motts.”
You don’t have to introduce yourself. You’ve met them before. They know your name.
“Right.” She didn’t make eye contact with her reflection. “Okay. Hello. Lovely to see you again.”
Do I ever say lovely to see you?
“Hi. Do you want to buy my flowers?” Great. Now I sound like some Victorian street urchin without the accent and coal-smudged face. “Hello. Thanks for meeting with me. I brought sketches.”
Well, it’s better. Not brilliant, but better.
She pulled on an oversized grey hoodie that had originally belonged to her younger and much taller cousin, River. She’d stolen it from him last year. He hadn’t complained—much.
“You can do this.” Motts tried to summon the courage to leave for her first appointment. She refused to be late. “If we’re doing this, we’re going now.”
With an apologetic pet to Cactus and Moss for leaving them behind, Motts raced out the door. She shivered in the brisk breeze off the sea. Hello, February in Cornwall. I’ll just be here freezing my toes off.
Dahlia Donovan wrote her first romance series after a crazy dream about shifters and damsels in distress. She prefers irreverent humour and unconventional characters. An autistic and occasional hermit, her life wouldn’t be complete without her husband and her massive collection of books and video games.
Dahlia is giving away a $10 Amazon gift card with this tour.
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