Swept Up:A Maid in LA MysteryBy: Holly Jacobs
Swept Up:A Maid in LA Mystery(Book #4)
To Lisa and everybody at the Trixie Belden homepage! Thanks for not only noticing my homage to one of my childhood favorite characters, but for embracing Quincy and her friends! So this one is for all of you, and for everyone else who grew up with the Bobwhites!
It’s also for all of Quincy’s fans. Thank you, thank you for all your support!
The first Maid in LA Mystery book had reviews from my family…including a stellar endorsement by my son, “At least it’s not a romance.” The second book had reviews from my Duets friends (comedy writers one and all) and for the third, a holiday novella, I had some help by a few holiday characters. So it should come as no surprise that I went looking for something a bit different for the 4th book, Swept Up. In Swept Up, Quincy’s first adventure, Steamed, is now a movie on the HeartMark Channel. So I thought some movie reviews were in order.
(Fictional) Reviews for the (Fictional) Mortie-winning movie Steamed, based on (the very real) book by the same name and featured in Holly Jacobs’ 4th Maid in LA Mystery, Swept Up:
“…A factual-ish movie based on a screenplay by first time writer, Quincy Mac, a one-time almost-actress, business owner and maid who accidentally cleaned a murder scene one day. If you can follow that sentence, this is a movie for you.” Hammer’s Hometime Movie Reviews
“Steamed, the movie, has created a whole new genre of flicks—The Mommy Mystery. Perfect for those mommies who want a laugh. And hey, even if you don’t laugh, it’s a couple hours away from the kids.” ~Mary’s Mommy Blog
“…at least it’s not a romance.” ~Miles Smith, screenwriter Quincy Mac’s son
“Quincy is one of the ditziest characters I’ve ever watched. Really, it takes a special class of crazy to think you’d end up in jail for accidentally cleaning a murder scene…now, committing the murder might be cause for worry. In retrospect, maybe Quincy was right to be concerned.” ~Rocko Bauers, Editor, Reporter and Movie Reviewer for the Orange County Prison Paper
“Oh, no. Not again.”
Two hours earlier
“Speech, speech, speech, speech,” everyone in the giant tent yelled. I looked around my ex-husband Jerome’s backyard. Friends and family waited for me to say something.
My future-fiancé, Cal, offered me his hand and helped me up on the table. I reached into the pockets that someday-famous designer Katelyn Campbell had made for me and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.
“It’s been almost two years since I accidentally cleaned a murder scene,” I started, which made all my friends and family clap. I’m not sure that cleaning a murder scene by accident deserved applause, but I waited.
When they didn’t show signs of fading away, I said, “And,” very loudly. They took the hint.
“So much has changed in that time,” I continued. “I’m still a mother, a daughter, a friend, a maid, a business owner. But now I’m pre-engaged to the most marvelous man on earth and I’m a very lucky amateur detective….” Cal shot me a glare, and I put my notecard down and added, “a retired, very lucky amateur detective. And I’m a writer, too. Frankly, it all feels surreal, especially the writer part.
“I wanted to give my writing teacher and mentor, Dick Macy, writing credit for his help on the script, but he said no. But like I said in my acceptance speech, I wouldn’t be here without Dick’s help and tutelage.” I nodded at Dick and sent him a smile. He’d started out as teacher, then he was my mentor. Now, almost two years later, he was a friend. A very dear friend, and an occasional cohort.
“Dick believed in my abilities. My family and friends believed in me. The only person who ever voiced any doubts about my abilities was…me. So tonight—”
I looked at the clock and corrected myself. “Well, actually this morning—as I stand here with a Mortie Award in hand.” I realized I wasn’t sure where my Mortie statue had ended up, so I added, “Well, at least figuratively in hand, I want to thank all of you for your support and your belief in me. And I want to remind you all, but especially my sons,” this time I nodded at my three boys. Hunter, Miles, and Eli. They were my heart.