The New Jamie Quinn Mystery is out! Check out "Peril in the Park"

Available on Amazon now for 99 cents introductory price, the 3rd book in the Jamie Quinn series, "Peril in the Park"

There's big trouble in the park system. Someone is making life difficult for Jamie Quinn's boyfriend, Kip Simons, the new director of Broward County parks. Was it the angry supervisor passed over for promotion? The disgruntled employee Kip recently fired? Or someone with a bigger ax to grind? If Jamie can't figure it out soon, she may be looking for a new boyfriend because there’s a dead guy in the park and Kip has gone missing! With the help of her favorite P.I., Duke Broussard, Jamie must race the clock to find Kip before it’s too late.



http://www.amazon.com/Peril-Park-Jamie-Mystery-Mysteries-ebook/dp/B00KRQ0E1M/ref=sr_1_6?ie=UTF8&qid=1401971299&sr=8-6&keywords=barbara+venkataraman

Excerpt from my upcoming Jamie Quinn Mystery, "Peril in the Park"

There's big trouble in the park system. Someone is making life difficult for Jamie Quinn's boyfriend, Kip, the new director of Broward County parks. Was it the angry supervisor passed over for promotion? The disgruntled employee Kip recently fired? Or someone with a bigger ax to grind? If Jamie can't figure it out soon, she may be looking for a new boyfriend because there’s a dead guy in the park and Kip has gone missing! With the help of her favorite P.I., Duke Broussard, Jamie must race the clock to find Kip before it’s too late.

                                                                    ***
                                                               Chapter 1

               "You know how Floridians always say--'We don't care how you did it in New York?'" Kip asked, sounding exasperated.

            "They don't really say that," I joked, dropping bread in the toaster with one hand and scrambling eggs with the other. "They just write it on bumper stickers."

            "My point is, they don't care how I did it in California either." Kip rested his forehead on my kitchen table and stared dejectedly at the floor, deep in thought, or deep in denial, maybe both.

            Only six months ago, Kip (who wasn't my boyfriend yet, well, actually he was still my ex-boyfriend--it's a little complicated) had moved here from California to take over as Director of Broward County Parks and he was having a rough time of it. When he'd first started, it was all about org charts and flow charts, flora and fauna mapping (both indigenous and invasive), and employee morale boosters. Honestly, nobody could've been more gung-ho than Kip. But all that went out the window when he realized that he had bigger problems--like the Machiavellian politics of upper management. Instead of doing their jobs, park supervisors spent their time trying to sabotage each other while lower level employees spent their time complaining about the supervisors. The only thing everyone agreed on was how much they hated the new director. So, in a way, Kip had brought them all together. Minus the morale boosting, of course.

            And then the vandalism started. It jumped from park to park with no obvious pattern, but seemed to be the handiwork of one person--a person who liked to leave snarky messages at the scene. The latest incident had occurred just two days earlier at Markham Park, in the southwest part of the county. Boy Scout troop number 256 had awoken from an overnight camping trip to find what looked like crop circles in a nearby field. Hoping to see aliens, they stampeded across the campground to check it out. The first scouts to arrive gave a whoop and soon laughter rippled through the crowd of adolescent boys like a wave at a football game. Even the scoutmasters snickered when they saw the message mowed in the field in twenty foot letters, as if written by a cranky giant. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to express himself, but there was no mistaking the sentiment. As clear as the morning dew, the words, "Bite Me!" were etched in the grass for all to see.

            "Jamie, do you know how long it will take for the grass to grow back?" Kip complained, after he'd told me about it. "I can't leave it like that."

            "Hmmm, why don't you add some letters to change the message? Like, how about, um, I've got it, Bite…Mel Gibson!  He certainly deserves to be bitten." I snorted with laughter. I crack myself up sometimes.

            Kip was only slightly amused. "Just what I need," he said, "a lawsuit from Mel Gibson. And my defense will be what--my lawyer girlfriend told me to do it? Who would believe that?"

            "Anyone who knows me," I said, as I plunked our breakfast down on the table. I took a seat next to my hunky boyfriend (I know--I can't believe it either) and proceeded to drown my eggs in Tabasco. It's the one sure way to wake myself up because, let's face it, I'm not a morning person.

            "How's your breakfast?" I asked, waiting for accolades.

            "Great, but it's missing something," Kip gave me a half-smile as he buttered his toast.

            "Not that again!" I groaned. "Don't say it, Kip--"

            "Where's the bacon?"

            "Now, you've done it! You've hurt Mr. Paws' feelings," I chided.

            Kip looked at me like I was crazy. "Why would your cat care about my missing bacon?"

            I rolled my eyes. "You know he's best friends with Miss Saigon."

            "Huh? Is that another one of your Broadway references?"

            "No. Miss Saigon is the Vietnamese pot-bellied pig that lives next door. The cat adores her."

            Kip laughed. "You can't make me feel guilty about eating bacon, Jamie. And you'll never convince me to become a vegetarian, either."

            I jumped into his lap and started nuzzling his neck. "I can be very convincing, you know."

            He pulled me close. "Really? And what are you trying to convince me to do right now?"

            "Go in late to work…"

            "I don't know," he murmured. "What would the boss say?"

            I nibbled his ear. "You are the boss."

            "Oh, that's right, I am," he said, and kissed me. "You smell delicious."

            "I do, don't I?"

            Kip scooped me up and started carrying me out of the kitchen. "Yes, you do. Almost as good as bacon."

Excerpt from my book "Death by Didgeridoo"

"Can you please tell me what's going on?" I asked.

My aunt and I were sitting at the table, not talking, despite my best efforts. Adam was still in the corner, shutting out the world just like he did when he was a kid--before intensive therapy and an obsession with music helped him learn to cope. He would come around when he was ready. Until then, it was best to leave him alone. Poor Aunt Peg looked so haggard; it was as if twenty-two years of safeguarding Adam had finally done her in. Not even when she and Dave were divorcing, their marriage collapsing under the strain of caring for Adam, had she looked this defeated. She was only forty-two, but she looked sixty-two at that moment, with bags under her eyes and deep wrinkles on her forehead. I watched her pick up a paper clip from the table, twisting and untwisting it until it finally broke. She looked up at me.

"Jamie, I want to wake up from this nightmare, but I can't! It all started this morning…I dropped Adam off at his music lesson, like I always do. He's been taking drum lessons at the music store on Harrison Street. When I went to pick him up an hour later, there were police cars and an ambulance blocking the road. I almost crashed the car I was so terrified--I thought something had happened to Adam! Any mother would’ve panicked, but it was worse for me because of Adam. He doesn't see trouble coming. He's too trusting, even after what happened with those horrible kids…"

She started crying again and I dug a tissue out of my purse. Divorce lawyers always have tissues handy.

"Then what happened, Aunt Peg?" I couldn't imagine where this story was going.

"I stopped a policeman--it was more like I grabbed him--and demanded to know what was going on. He said there had been a homicide! I started crying and screaming for Adam and then…he…he said…Adam wasn't hurt, but they were taking him into custody!"

She was on the verge of hysteria, so she closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. I'd seen Adam use this calming technique before.

I waited a minute and then gently prodded her, "Aunt Peg?"

She continued as if she were in a trance. "I followed the police car back to the station. At first, they weren't going to let me in here because Adam is over eighteen but, when they saw him like this, they changed their minds." She stopped and looked at Adam with tears in her eyes.

"Margaret Muller, look at me!" I snapped.

"What, Jamie?"

"Will you tell me who died already?"

Death by Didgeridoo is available on Amazon Kindle.