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I’m knee deep in finishing TROUBLE’S WEDDING CAPER. This has been a difficult book for me to write. It’s a new genre…Mystery. Though this is more Romantic Mystery, but still, it’s different enough. It also has a cat point of view, which has been very interesting to write. I mean this cat thinks he’s British AND he is a world class detective. Like the best! Seriously.

Anywho, here is a little taste of what is to come…

I follow the crowd to the next unit. This one too has a lot of boxes, but the tops are open and one in particular, a white wedding veil cascades over the cardboard. Careful not to draw too much attention to myself, I enter the storage unit. I’m an expert at blending in and it’s one of the reason’s I’m the best detective.

And I know Sherlock Holmes would agree.

I weave my way through a maze of boxes filled with more veils, dried flowers, and now I’m standing in front of a mannequin, dressed in a beautiful, lacy white gown.

This is the unit for Annabel and I need to find a way to tell her, without cueing the rest of the group to bid. I hear a male voice start the bidding at one-thousand dollars. Lucky for Annabel, I’m quick on my feet and a great cat to human communicator.

I rub my side against her leg, then take a few steps toward the storage unit. I repeat this a few times, making sure I look directly at Annabel before turning my head.

“What is it, Trouble?” she whispered, kneeling.

Someone in the back of the crowd raised their hand and yelled, “Fifteen hundred.”

I raise my paw, glancing over at the woman asking for another bid.

“You think this is a good one?”

Bingo. Not that I would ever say bingo, but Annabel is turning out to be smarter than the average human.

“Two-thousand.”Annabel lifts me once again. I could get used to being carried around wherever I go. The view up here isn’t too bad either.

“Twenty-two hundred,” the same voice shouts.

I raise my paw, giving Annabel a look that said, keep going until you can’t go anymore. Not all humans would understand this look, but I had faith in this one.

“Twenty-five hundred,” she said.

“Twenty-seven hundred,” another voice said.

I hold my paw high and tap her shoulder. My amusement in storage wars fades as the temperature rises and the humidity sticks to my elegant coat. I really want to get back to the windowsill in the master bedroom. I love the way the sun beats down this time of the morning while the fan above pushes a cool air-conditioned breeze in my direction, making ita perfect place to relax and take a nap.

“Sold to the lady with the cat.”

Finally. We can go back to the condo.

“Let’s go see what we’ve got,”Annabel’s tone is electric.

I yawn and climb up on one of the boxes where a tad of sunlight brightened the dingy storage area and curl up, licking my paw.

My work here is done.

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