Get ready for a rollicking, wickedly fun new mystery series from USA Today Bestselling Author Rhonda Pollero, featuring the most delicious sleuth ever to solve the crime, get the guy, and save a bundle on discount Gucci, all at the same time. Once Finley Tanner's on the case, shopping and murder will never be the same...
Meet Finley Anderson Tanner. F.A.T. to her enemies. Underachiever extraordinaire. This West Palm Beach paralegal hates the gym, still rents her condo, and loves two-hour lunches with her friends. But what really gets Finley's blood pumping is the thrill of the hunt--shopping for deeply discounted designer goods she can wear at her upscale law firm. Hey, if she holds that Chanel bag just right, no one will ever notice the weird smear on the pale pink lambskin.
Too bad work isn't all about fashion. Especially when a grieving widow is sitting in your office, convinced that her husband's accidental death was really murder. Okay, so she's sincere...but crazy. She's also a close personal friend of the boss, and the boss wants Finley to personally oversee the investigation. Good-bye outlet malls; hello pain-in-my-Asprey.
Investigating murder isn't really Finley's bag. (That would be Prada, 75% off.) But the deeper Finley digs, the stranger things get. There are an awful lot of "accidental" deaths out there. This discount shopper knows slightly irregular when she sees it, and this case is clearly not right. Kind of like sexy Liam McGarrity. Everything about the hot, hunky P.I. assigned to the investigation screams, "Get out while you still have your underwear!" When he's not working the case, he's working on Finley. Who knew crime could be this much fun?
Now, for a girl whose biggest ambition was take-out Moo Shu at exactly 5:01, life is taking some exciting, unpredictable, and decidedly dangerous turns. But someone doesn't like Finley's new work ethic. And if this paralegal wants to bring home the real goods, she'll have to keep from becoming a killer's total knock off...
With more than 25 contemporary romances (Automatic Proposal, etc.) under the pen name Kelsey Roberts, Pollero makes her frivolous but fun mystery debut featuring Finley Anderson Tanner (F.A.T.), a 29-year-old West Palm Beach paralegal whose designer name-dropping prattle and discount shopaholism obscure her smarts. Bored silly by her job in the estates and trusts department, she agrees to help a senior partner handle a client convinced that her deceased husband didn't fall asleep at the wheel but was actually murdered. Finley's sweet but boring boyfriend is out of town, and her credit cards are maxed out, so she applies her bargain-hunting instincts to the investigation and finds a statistical improbability in the "accidental" deaths of several jurors after a medical malpractice suit. She meets the obligatory bad boy detective, Liam McGarrity, and wriggles out of several tight spots in this lighthearted romp. (Mar.)
Copyright (c) Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
-- PUBLISHERS WEEKLY.
Showing 1-1 of the 1 most recent reviews
1 . Loved it!
Posted February 02, 2009 by Tonya , Rutledge, TNI have another favorite author to add to my list. I loved reading this book.
February 28, 2007
Number of Print Pages*
Adobe DRM EPUB
* Number of eBook pages may differ. Click here for more information.
Excerpt from Knock Off by Rhonda Pollero
If I could find a way to deep-fry chocolate, my life would be whole. Or at least that's what I told myself as I parked my BMW in its regular spot in front of the law offices of Dane, Lieberman and Zarnowski. I often muse about food when I'm in a funk.
It was a beautiful, sunny April morning, making it really hard for me to get excited about going to work. Okay, so I rarely got excited about going to work regardless of the weather. Then again, who does? I grabbed my adorable new Chanel bag, and with a quick, surreptitious glance, checked to be sure I was holding the pale pink bowling bag correctly. I was, and tugged it onto my shoulder.
It would be freaking embarrassing if my coworkers noticed the big black smear of God-only-knew-what on the lambskin leather. The smear would out me. I'd bought the damaged purse at the outlet in Vero Beach. I would take my secret vice to my grave.
No one would ever know that I, Finley Anderson Tanner, am a... discount shopper. And my other really huge fashion secret--I'm a tribute to Slightly Irregular. My wardrobe is a collection of the unloved cast-offs from the factory and/or the snagged and stained seconds discarded by the trendy stores, then sold at deep discounts. Thanks to the smudge, my new purse was marked down low enough to fit in my budget.
Well, that wasn't exactly true. I didn't have a budget so much as a propensity to carry just enough credit-card debt to force me to acknowledge that I have little if any shopping self-restraint.
Well, not just shopping. My excesses seem to be limitless, guided only by my overwhelming desire to have it now. It can be anything. Anything I can pay for in installments, that is. My favorite word is preapproved. I especially like it when it's stamped across a solicitation for yet another credit card.
So, that's how I morphed into a twenty-nine-year-old woman who doesn't technically own anything. My apartment is rented, my car is leased, and if we still had debtors' prisons, I'd be serving life without parole.
Which is the reason I'm dragging myself into work when I'd far prefer to be headed for the beach on this spectacular South Florida Monday. I'd much rather be lying in the sun, listening to tunes on my almost paid-off iPod, wearing my five-percent-down, custom-made, barely there, body-hugging bikini and matching sarong, ignoring all the warnings about the dangers of sun exposure in favor of a bronze, blonde-complexion-flattering tan. Debt sucks.
Especially for a person like me, who--of my own volition--has gone from moderate riches to heavily financed rags. The only high point of my week thus far has been finding a great deal on a solid screw-down crown on eBay for my build-it-from-parts Rolex project. Hey, everybody's gotta have a hobby. Over the past year, I've acquired the pink mother-of-pearl face and a sapphire crystal. I figure by the time I'm thirty-five, I should have enough parts to assemble the watch of my dreams.
For today, I'm dependent on my really cute Kuber to let me know that I'm more than twenty minutes late.
Stepping into the ornate lobby of the firm made my watch irrelevant. I was instantly given the evil smirk by Margaret Ford. As always, the fifty-five-year-old receptionist was stationed behind the crescent-shaped desk, pen poised, Bluetooth tucked into her right ear.
Margaret's crooked and overly thinned brows arched disapprovingly. "Nice to see you, Finley."