A Greek Ghouls Mystery Series by Alex A. King (2-3)
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Overview: Alex A. King is the author of the Women of Greece series and the Kat Makris: Greek Mafia series. She writes under the kitchen table, in the pantry, and sometimes while hiding behind the couch; basically anywhere her three-year-old can’t find her. Her books are funny because life is funny.
Genre: Fiction > Sci-Fi/Fantasy
2. Royal Ghouls: Things are heating up for Allie Callas, owner of Finders Keepers, a service dedicated to finding doodads, secrets, and occasionally people. No, wait, that’s fire from the yacht that just slammed into the tiny Greek island of Merope. Plot twist: the passengers were already dead before the crash. Allie knows this because they’re infesting her apartment, schmoozing her dead cat, and hogging the television. The ghosts found one of Allie’s business cards tacked to a message board in the Afterlife, and now they expect her to figure out whodunit.
Allie doesn’t solve murders. Well, okay, she solved one, but she doesn’t want to make it a habit—not when the delicious Detective Leo Samaras, who may or may not be a serial killer, lives upstairs. Leo desperately wants to discuss that date they had (more like half a date), but Allie never wants to speak of it again. Ever.
When one of the ghosts dangles irresistible information under Allie’s nose, she reluctantly agrees to take the case. What are the odds she’ll live to regret it? Will she ever get to eat the perfect sandwich? And why are all these dead chickens crossing the road?
3. Stolen Ghouls: Life is turning a strange corner for Allie Callas, owner of Finders Keepers, a company dedicated to scoring the ungettable gets and finding things that want to stay lost. Too bad she can’t get Leo Samaras, hot cop and stubborn mule, a new pair of eyes. Leo can’t see Allie’s favorite cake shop—it exists, really it does—but the one thing they both agree on is that there’s a cooling body on the Cake Emporium’s floor.
Leo says heart attack. Allie says murder.
The dead man’s ghost says murder, too. With a mouth like a drunken sailor and the personality of smallpox, it’s hard to imagine who’d want to kill the man. But Allie’s having a tough time figuring out whodunit. The foul tempered victim was one step up from a recluse, and Allie can’t dig up even one suspect.
If that’s not annoying enough, Allie is being stalked by … by … well, she’s not sure exactly, but the invisible nothing can sure toss a cup of coffee and sling pots at her head.
With her source to all things woo-woo missing, Allie is fumbling around in a dark closet—literally. Will she and Detective Samaras ever be on the same page long enough to make out? Why won’t her neighbor wear more clothes? And what’s with all the weird pink jars in her client’s house?
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