The Rogue Reviewer (Primrose, Minnesota Book 3)

The
Rogue Reviewer

Primrose, Minnesota, Book 3

By

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Mia Dymond

Published on Smashwords

Cover photo: Les3photo8 | Dreamstime.com

Cover by Dara England

* * *

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may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system,
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author
acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various
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* * *

“Kill her, Dara.”

Dara Hamilton glanced around the table and
focused on her four, usually non-violent friends and attempted to
decide which one of them made the suggestion before she tossed a
wary look over her shoulder to see if anyone in the crowded sports
bar overheard the conversation. As usual, Hannigan’s was crammed
with customers who tossed back alcohol and licked barbeque sauce
from their fingers while they focused on any number of big screen
televisions mounted on the walls.

Satisfied no one seemed interested, she
turned back to the conversation, cautiously curious. “I’m assuming
you mean in one of my novels, but how?”

“Smash her with your car.”

“Bullet to her brain.”

“Columbian necktie.”

Dara’s jaw fell open at the last suggestion
and she raised an eyebrow at her closest friend since kindergarten.
Never in a million years would she expect the five foot, three inch
blonde bombshell to offer that particular method. “You are one
scary sixth grade math teacher, Marnie.”

“Good one,” Alex agreed. “That’ll shut her up
for good.”

Dara picked up her glass and swished the wine
around the inside. “Thanks guys, but it was just one bad
review.”

“Bad?” Reagan snorted while she poked a
strand of her auburn hair behind one ear. “More like scathing. I
vote for Marnie’s method.”

“Reagan, you’re a nurse. Aren’t you supposed
to help people?”

The other woman shrugged.

“You guys are my heroes.” Dara returned her
glass to the table and picked up the morning newspaper. “I just
wish she’d picked another book.”

For at least the hundredth time, Dara skimmed
the article in the dim bar light. The one in which the Rogue
Reviewer totally trashed her latest release,
Sinful Rapture
.
Obviously her position on the New York Times bestseller list didn’t
impress the columnist.
Smut
, the reviewer so eloquently put
it.

At least now her nerves were numb.

“Who cares, Dara? The old bat obviously
doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” Marnie tossed back her
glass of alcohol and reached for the wine bottle. “Besides, she
probably did you a favor.”

Dara snorted. “Ya think?”

“I agree.” Annie’s stylish brown bob swayed
as her head wobbled, probably because she drank too much to control
it. “You’ll sell books just because she hated it and I’d be
interested in seeing your numbers in the next few weeks.”

Although alcohol dulled the other woman’s
normally bright, chocolate-drop eyes, Dara’s confidence gathered
steam. Her friend happened to be a brilliant accountant who could
practically spin gold. Maybe she was right.

“How’s Bri?” Marnie lifted her glass and
drained the contents.

“Better now that she’s in permanent
protective custody.” She giggled. “Between Jake and Mace, she’s
under twenty four-hour surveillance.”

“Mace?”

“Detective Mace Turner, Jake’s partner.”

“Partner, huh?” Marnie raised an eyebrow.
“You call him by his first name?”

“Yes. I met him when Bri profiled one of his
cases and he insisted when he questioned me.”

“Really?” Alex smirked from across the booth.
“And you didn’t call me?”

“No need. He only asked about Bri and relax,
he got nothing from me.”

“Good girl.”

Reagan gave Dara a skeptical stare and tapped
the newspaper. “Does anyone really read these reviews?”

Dara untangled Marnie’s fingers from the wine
bottle and poured herself another glass. “Unfortunately, yes. She’s
quite a force in the media market.”

Alex tossed her long, black hair over one
shoulder and twisted her lips, obviously in attorney mode.
Something in her green, Siamese cat-shaped eyes flashed
lawsuit
and she knew from experience that once Alex was on
the prowl, nothing stopped her from cornering her prey
.
“Do
you know her?”

“No. I’m not sure anyone knows her true
identity. She’s published under the
Rogue Reviewer
as long
as I can remember.”

“We should find out.”

“What? Why?”

Alex drained the contents of her glass before
she answered. “I’ve got a few legal suggestions.”

“Really, it’s not necessary.” Dara dismissed
the other women with a wave of her hand. “This is part of the
business.”

“You think this is really what she looks
like?” Marnie tapped the photo beside the reviewer’s name.

Dara shrugged as she perused the short,
squatty woman who posed without a smile and with narrowed black
eyes. “Who knows? If it is, I don’t recall seeing her at any of the
conferences I’ve attended.”

“She’s probably too chicken to leave her
house.” Annie grabbed the newspaper and wadded it inside her fist.
“She never writes a good review.”

“Thus her name,” Dara mumbled.

Alex took the wad and smoothed out the
wrinkles. “We might need this for evidence.”

“I’m surprised no one’s taken her out yet.”
Marnie reached for the wine bottle.

Dara groaned. “Can we please just change the
subject?”

“Sorry, Dara.” Reagan patted her shoulder.
“Have you answered your fan mail this week?”

“You know I wait until we’re all together. I
like your input.”

“Well, let’s get to it!” Dara smiled at
Alex’s excitement – she lived for the opportunity to dissect each
and every message. “Fire up your laptop, girl!”

Dara powered up the computer and clicked keys
until her inbox appeared on the screen, full as usual. All five of
them crowded around while she opened the file.

“See?” Marnie soothed. “Nobody listens to
her.”

“Look!” Alex tapped the screen. “You knew
there would be mail from this reader.”

“Romantically Devoted.” Reagan giggled.
“Right on time.”

“Click it first,” Annie prompted.

Dara opened the message and read:

My dearest Dara,

I read that nasty reviewer’s column and I am
truly sorry you had to endure her evil tongue. I, for one, find her
constant harassment exhausting. Congratulations on another
wonderful masterpiece.

I remain,

Romantically Devoted

“Have you ever asked this person to reveal
their identity?”

“No, I just figured the writer is really
shy.”

“Loyal for sure.”

Dara typed a heartfelt
thank you
and
then opened several more messages before the group decided to call
it an evening. Thank goodness for friends – especially hers. It
wouldn’t matter to them if she did write smut, each and every one
of them would read it. Twice.

“Someone needs to take Reagan home.” Dara
positioned the other woman upright.

“I like wine.” Reagan snorted. “A lot.”

“She rode with me.” Annie giggled as she
pushed their friend out of the booth. “We all know she can’t hold
her liquor.”

“I’ve got court in the morning.” Alex folded
the wrinkled newspaper page and slipped it inside her purse. “Judge
Hatchet will threaten to fine me if I’m late.”

Dara rolled her eyes while she closed her
laptop and slid it into the case. Judge Anthony Bowman, III
definitely had his eye on Alex. “You mean, he might request a
meeting in chambers with your
fine
self.”

“You focus way too much on your talent.” Alex
smirked while she slung her purse over one shoulder and stood.
“Call if you need me.”

“Will do.” Dara nudged Marnie’s shoulder with
her own. “Let’s go before I order another bottle.”

She lifted a hand and gave the bar owner a
three-fingered wave before she slid out of the booth behind her
friend. The man returned her gesture with a nod of his head while
his gaze remained focused on Marnie.

“You sure you don’t want to sit at the bar
for a while?”

“Nah,” Marnie said as they left the building
and headed across the parking lot. “I don’t think you should be
alone.”

“I’m already over it.” She waited until
Marnie flipped her car remote to open the doors before she opened
the passenger side and climbed in. “No big deal.”

Marnie snorted and stared the engine. “I
still say a Columbian necktie would suit her.”

Dara laid her head back against the seat.
“You don’t have many discipline problems in your class, do
you?”

Marnie smirked. “Nope.”

As Marnie drove to her townhouse, Dara
released a soft sigh while her brain rewound the evening’s
conversation. Her friends had a really good idea, turning this
experience into a novel – although, Marnie’s suggested method of
murder might be a little dark for her style. The possibility began
to bloom in her mind. Her own brand of revenge, so to speak.

“You’re gonna do it, aren’t you?” Marnie
parked in the visitor’s space next to Dara’s assigned spot.

She gave her best friend a mischievous grin,
still running things through her brain. “I think I might. You want
to come in for a cup of coffee?”

“Of course! This I need to hear.”

Dara led the way to the front door, slid the
key into the lock, turned the knob and then pushed on the door. The
barrier wouldn’t budge.

“It won’t open,” she said with a frown.

“What? Here, let me try.” Marnie gave the
door a bold kick with her peep-toe pump.

“Geez, Marnie!” Dara giggled. “Did you have a
kickboxing class today?”

“Yeah. It’s still stuck.”

“Okay, well don’t break a hip.” She reached
into her purse for her cell phone. “I’ll call the super.”

Marnie groaned. “Good old Griffin will take
forever. Let’s both give it a push. Maybe it’s just swollen from
the weather.”

She silently agreed. Griffin Owens didn’t get
in a hurry to do anything and besides, he wasn’t much bigger than
the two of them. If entry required brute force, they were
screwed.

She dropped her phone back into her purse and
shrugged. “Sure.”

“Count of three,” Marnie told her as she
wrapped her hand around the knob and turned.

“One.” Marnie braced one shoulder against the
door.

“Two.” Dara pressed her shoulder against the
opposite side.

“Three!” Marnie growled as they pushed with
all their weight.

The door flew open.

If the body resting on the other side had
been alive, it would have groaned.

“Oh my God, Marnie! Is that a dead body?”
Dara stepped back a couple steps. “In my living room?!”

While her nerves shook, she watched in awe as
her best friend squatted next to the lifeless figure and extended a
hand.

“What
are
you doing?” she screeched as
she swatted the other woman’s hand.

“Feeling for a pulse.”

“Stop! The last thing we need is for the
police to find your fingerprints on the body.”

The ends of Marnie’s hair whacked the skin of
her cheek as she swung her head around and glared. “Dara, calm
down!” She recognized Marnie’s stern, teacher’s voice and knew she
meant business. She bit her lip as her friend stood and placed a
hand on her shoulder, squeezing as she spoke. “Step over and sit on
the sofa.”