From Gemma Halliday
Alibi in High Heels is now out!
Baguettes, bodies, and haute couture galore! Shoe designer turned amateur sleuth, Maddie Springer, is at it again, this time in fabulously fashionable Paris. When Europe’s designer de jour, Jean Luc LeCroix, invites Maddie to show her creations at Paris Fashion Week, Maddie’s sure she’s died and gone to heaven. That is until Jean Luc’s top model is found dead on the runway, stabbed with a familiar stiletto heel. Sure someone is trying to frame her, Maddie enlists the help of her friends, including the sexy Detective Jack Ramirez, to uncover a daring jewel heist, a devious blackmailer, and even a few skeletons lurking in the closets of those closest to her. But as the evidence mounts, Maddie becomes the prime suspect and Ramirez is stuck between a badge and a cute blonde with a tendency for trouble. Will he stand by her as she attempts to track down an international killer, or will this be the case that finally comes between them? One thing’s for sure, if Maddie doesn’t uncover the real killer soon, she may be saying her final adieu.
Watch a video book trailer for Alibi In High Heels here to get a sneak peak of the action.
Order your copy now at Amazon.com.
Currently I had two vices: Mexican food and Mexican men. Thanks to an early morning shooting on Olympic that had my boyfriend, Detective Jack Ramirez, crawling out of bed at the crack of dawn, I couldn’t indulge in the latter. Which left me with the former, in the form of a grande nachos supremo at The Whole Enchilada in Beverly Hills. And I had to admit the gooey cheddar and salsa induced semi-orgasm I was experiencing was almost as good as what I'd had planned for Ramirez this morning.
Almost.
"Tell me again about the sex?" my best friend, Dana, asked, leaning both of her elbows on the table across from me.
I grinned. I couldn't help it. After spending the night with Ramirez, there was nothing I could do to wipe that sucker off. "It was hot."
Dana licked her lips. "How hot?"
I picked up a stray jalapeño from my plate and held it up. "Ten of these and you still wouldn’t even be close."
Dana sighed. Then started fanning herself with a napkin imprinted with a dancing cactus. "You know, it's been so long, I can hardly even remember what a one jalapeño night would be like."
Dana's current boyfriend de jour was Ricky Montgomery, who played the hunky gardener on the hit TV show Magnolia Lane. Amazingly, my fated-to-short-term-romance friend had actually taken a vow of monogamy with Ricky, which, thus far, had lasted a record nine months. I was actually pretty proud of Dana. Especially considering that as soon as shooting had ended for the Magnolia Lane season, Ricky had flown off to Croatia to do a film with Natalie Portman. Ricky said the script was amazing and had Oscar written all over it. Dana said she was investing in a battery powered rabbit and praying they wrapped quickly.
"So, when is Ricky coming back?" I asked around a bite of cool sour cream and hot salsa. I'm telling you, pure heaven.
"Three more weeks. I'm just not sure I can make it, Maddie. This is the longest I've ever gone without sex."
I raised an eyebrow. "Ever?"
Dana nodded vigorously. "Since ninth grade."
Wow. I think in ninth grade I was still negotiating with Bobby Preston over second base.
"So, why don't you just go visit him?"
She shook her head. "Can't. The set's in a military zone. They needed all sorts of permits and things just to be there. Booty call isn't exactly on the list of approved reasons."
"Sorry."
"Thanks." Dana sipped at her iced tea, giving my jalapeño a longing look.
"If it makes you feel any better, last night was the only action I've gotten in weeks, too." Not to mention that I was currently substituting a morning of naked sheet wrestling with rice and beans.
Dana sighed again, the kind that only blonde haired, blue eyed wanna-be actresses can conjure up without sounding fake. "Not really, but thanks for trying."
"Hey, how about we go for pedis? A fresh coat of toenail polish always makes me feel better. I've got an appointment at Fernando's in twenty minutes. Wanna join me?"
Dana shook her head, her pony-tail whipping her cheeks. "Sorry, no can do. I've got an audition at one. I'm reading for the part of a street walker on that new David E. Kelly show. I can so nail this one."
I looked her up and down, taking in her denim micro-mini, three-inch heels, and pink crop top. I hated to admit it, but she so could.
After I'd fully consumed my nacho supremeo, stopping just short of actually licking the plate, Dana and I walked down Santa Monica, making a right on Beverly where my little red Jeep was parked at the end of the busy street in front of Fernando's salon. Normally actually walking two blocks in L.A. was an unheard of phenomenon, but this was prime Beverly Hills shopping territory. The boutiques lining the street held windows full of designer purses, thousand dollar tank tops, and Italian leather shoes with stitching so small, you'd swear it was the work of Leprechauns.
Dana paused in front of the Bellissimo Boutique. "Ohmigod, Mads! Are those yours?" She pointed to a pair of red, patent leather Mary Janes with a black kitten heel.
I grinned so wide I felt my cheeks crack. (And this time it had nothing to do with Ramirez or gooey cheddar-laden chips.)
Last year I had a moment of minor internet fame, which prompted a trendy local boutique to ask me to design a line of shoes for them, called High Heels Seduction. Not surprisingly, I squealed, squeaked and generally jumped around like a six year old minus her Ritalin. And then things got even better when, two months later, the first pair of Maddie Springer originals was sold to an up-and-coming young actress who just happened to be wearing them when she got arrested outside the Twilight Club on Sunset Boulevard for drug possession. Suddenly my shoes were all over Entertainment Tonight, Access Hollywood, and even CNN. I got calls from the hippest shops in L.A. and Orange County, all clamoring to stock my High Heels Seduction.
Including, the Bellissimo Boutique.
"Yep," I said, beaming with a pride usually reserved for mothers sporting "student of the month" bumper stickers. "Those are my latest. You like?"
"I love! Oh, I so want a pair. Hey, you think you could do something for me to wear to the premier of Ricky's movie when you get back from Paris?"
Oh, did I forget to mention the best part of being a real fashion designer?
Once my shoes hit CNN, I got a call from Jean Luc Le Croix, the hottest new European fashion designer, asking me, little ‘ol me, to come show my shoes in his fall runway collection at Paris Fashion Week.
Paris!
I had truly died and gone to heaven. Not surprisingly, I'd first had a mild heart attack, then did a repeat of the six-year-old-Ritalin-addict thing. I was set to fly out next week and still hadn't come down off the high.
"Oui, oui, mademoiselle. What would you like?" I asked.
"Oh, I totally know what I want! I saw the cutest pair of wedge heeled sandals on J. Lo at the MTV awards. They were, like, black with this little trail of sequins going down the…" But Dana trailed off, her eyes fixing on a point just over my shoulder. Then suddenly going big and round.
"What?"
I spun around and stood rooted to the spot. A little yellow sports car was careening down Beverly at Daytona 500 speeds. It sideswiped a Hummer, narrowly missing a woman carrying a Dolce shopping bag, then bounced back into traffic, tires squealing.
"Ohmigod, Maddie," Dana said, her voice going high and wild. "Look out!"
I watched in horror as the little car cut across two lanes, jumping the curb and accelerating.
Straight toward me.
***
I hope you love Alibi in High Heels, as I'm hard at work on Maddie's next adventure, Mayhem in High Heels, coming in 2009!
~Gemma
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