Fit To Be Tied By Kelsey Browning & Nancy Naigle

Thursday, October 23, 2014

These are not your momma’s grannies. These gals are more like DIRTY HARRY…only over 50, female and from the south. IN FOR A PENNY ranked #1 in the Humorous Fiction genre, and we’re so excited to now bring you:


Book Two ~ The Granny Series


Maggie glared down at her feet, currently sinking into greenish muck in Summer Haven’s front yard. She wiggled her toes, but her bright orange toenail polish was barely visible beneath the brackish water tickling them. Worse, the unusually warm fall day was already beginning to make it smell.

Why she’d started wearing these dollar store flip-flips Sera loved so doggoned much, she didn’t know. Back in her day, they’d called them thongs. Now that term was used for something that would leave her hind parts looking as pudgy as her toes. Today her winter galoshes would’ve been a much better choice.

Maggie pinched her nose, trying to tone down the odor because the squishy hole she was standing in could only be described as eau de toilette. Wasn’t it enough that she’d replaced the huge house’s upstairs commode after it crashed through the water-rotted boards between the first and second floors?

Apparently not, because now her best friend’s family estate had septic system problems as well. And seeing as Lil was still on that extended vacation at Walter Stiles Federal Prison Camp, the potty problems were all Maggie’s.

She heaved a sigh, but the girls didn’t jiggle quite as much as they had a few months ago. A bonus. Taking care of Summer Haven, chasing bad guys, and wrangling both her life and Lil’s had slimmed Maggie down a smidgen.

Good thing because she had a pile of poop to wrangle today.

“Maggie,” Serendipity, Sera to her friends, called from the gazebo across the yard where

she was contorted into one of her million yoga positions, “come practice your halasana.”

Maggie did a quick translation in her head. The plough. Oh Lord, she preferred the vrksasana. The tree pose was easy enough and she’d gone from wobbling sprig to strong oak tree. Well, at least in her mind. True, she wasn’t in love with poses that put her fanny in all sorts of vulnerable places, but she’d given in and begun doing yoga with Sera a few times a week anyway. Their roommate Abby Ruth, on the other hand, was still holding out, insisting she got enough exercise by running her mouth and toting her guns.

Maggie glanced down again. Thrusting her derriere up in the air sounded like a pretty darn good alternative to standing here. Then again, when had she ever met a honey-do task she couldn’t master?

“Can’t right now,” she called back. “We’ve got potty problems.”

Sera’s graceful, yoga-toned stride had her at Maggie’s side in a flash. “What kind of problems?”

“Sticky, oozy, stinky ones. The septic system is being overworked or worse.”

“I wondered what that stench was.” Sera’s nose wrinkled. “I’m as much a fan of natural fertilization as any self-respecting Californian, but this might be taking it to the extreme. Will it be expensive to fix?”

Here at Summer Haven, they were always watching their pennies. The Greek Revival house and surrounding land might be dignified, but it was a money pit from Hades. Didn’t matter, though, because Maggie had promised she’d keep the place from falling down while Lil was away. “Not if I do it myself.”

A tiny line bisected Sera’s strawberry blond eyebrows. With her long hair and toned body, she looked about thirty years old at first glance. But when she frowned, it was more apparent she was in the fifty-something range. “Don’t you think some things should be left to the experts?”

Maggie jammed her hands onto her hips and widened her feet. But her indignant pose was ruined when her ankle twisted, tweaking her knee and weakening her stance. Sera grabbed Maggie’s arm just before she toppled into the sloppy mess.

Once Maggie was steady again, she said, “Don’t you think owning a hardware store for decades makes me an expert?”

“This sinkhole looks too complicated for a DIY project, especially for a couple of girls over fifty.”

Over fifty. That was polite. Sera was barely that age, but Maggie and Lil had greeted seventy a birthday or two ago. “Aren’t you always saying age is just a state of mind?”

“Yes, but—”

“Well, this is one helluva mess.” Abby Ruth strode up but kept the toes of her blistering red cowboy boots on the edge of the septic sinkhole.

For a fraction of a second, Maggie wanted to lash out. Abby Ruth was handy to have around—especially with her native Texan knowledge of guns and take-no-prisoners attitude—but every once in a while, she still rubbed Maggie wrong.

Maggie took what Sera referred to as a cleansing breath, and let it out for a five-count before responding. “I’ll get this mess fixed, but until I do, we have to ration our flushes.”

“Ration?” Abby Ruth’s icy gray eyes lowered to narrow slits. “What do you mean, ration?”

“Well, there’s no need to flush every time you pee.”

“Are you telling me I’m gonna have to head down to the sheriff’s office to take a proper …

FIT TO BE TIED is available in print, large print and kindle formats.