Thursday, June 28, 2018

Excerpt & Tour: Shenanigans by Gail Koger

by Gail Koger

GENRE: Paranormal Romance

Kandi Cain inherited her Dr. Doolittle abilities from her grandmother and became a psychic pet detective. To her dismay, she just acquired the power to communicate with the spirit world, but dead people give her the willies.

Just when Kandi thought her life couldn’t get more complicated, the neighbor from hell moved in next door. The nasty guy’s name is Dutch Callaghan. How can someone so gorgeous be such a dick? Kandi could chalk some of it up to his job. Dutch is a Phoenix PD homicide cop.

Kandi’s current case is rescuing a Yorkie from a brutal dog fighting ring. Little does she know her dog napping suspect is involved in a series of brutal murders. Disguised as an elderly nun, Kandi rescues the Yorkie and, in the process, blows the hell out of Dutch’s undercover operation.

Kandi now finds herself a person of interest in her client’s murder and her sexy-as-hell, pain-in-the-butt neighbor is in hot pursuit of the Ninja Nun. Is Dutch about to slap the cuffs on? Only time will tell.


The minute the elevator doors opened, the stench hit me. Ugh. It was a combination of rotting meat and bleach. I hurried down the hallway, trying not to gag as the smell got into my throat. How did Jana deal with it every day?

The mortuary doors swooshed open and Jana stepped out. “There you are.”

I waved a hand in front of my face. “Is the smell always this bad?”

“Quit being a wuss. Teri, the Medical Examiner, is waiting,” Jana said, practically dragging me past shelves of bagged bodies.

“Shouldn’t they be in a refrigerator of some type? It would cut down on the smell.”

“The Sheriff’s burial detail will be here shortly to lay them to rest,” Jana replied.

“Oh. That’s right. The Medical Examiner’s office uses the Sheriff’s chain gang to plant them in our version of Potter’s field.”

Jana sighed. “They’re laid to rest not planted.”

“I didn’t mean to disrespect the dearly departed, but this place kinda freaks me out,” I said quickly. Jana took her mortician duties seriously.

“The dead cannot hurt you.”

A plastic shrouded body shot upright, banged its head on the shelf and moaned.

I jumped about a foot. “What the hell? It’s alive! It’s alive! Call the paramedics!”

“The paramedics can’t resuscitate a two-day old corpse. I’ve told you repeatedly that sometimes the dead move,” Jana responded patiently as I peeked around her shoulder.

The quivering corpse farted loudly and fell back.

Another body moved.

I pulled a cross out from under my Hawaiian print shirt and held it out to ward off the evil spirits and other creepy crawlies. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, grow a pair. It’s residual gases and left-over nerve impulses.”

“Uh huh.” I cast a nervous glance around the gloomy morgue, looking for more of the farting dead.

Jana inquired, “Why is it you can get shot at and have half of the Phoenix Police Department’s cops chasing you and not turn into a girly girl?”

“Maybe it was having a bunch of dead bodies fall on me when I was visiting your father’s mortuary.”

“That was over fifteen years ago,” Jana cried.

“They didn’t have heads!” A shudder of revulsion shook me. “And they leaked on me. Gross. I can still feel the slimy goop oozing down the front of my blouse.” I raised the cross. “Evil beware! This has been blessed by the Holy Father himself.”

Jana rolled her eyes in disgust. “You’re not even Catholic and you bought that cheap knock-off on eBay. If you’re going to be talking to the dead, you’d better learn to suck it up.”

“I hate it when you’re right.”


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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