Note from Holly: I’ve heard from a lot of readers how much they enjoyed the ‘reviews’ in the first two Maid in LA Books.  My family helped me with the ones for Steamed.  My Duet friends showed their comedy roots by helping with reviews for Dusted.  Since this is a Christmas novella, I knew just who to go to for ‘reviews’ for Spruced Up!

Reviews:

“I fell in love with Quincy Mac when I learned she was once almost the spokeswoman for toothpaste.  I have a fondness for great stories, for toothpaste…and for teeth.”  ~Hermey, Dentist to the North Pole

“I’m so glad to see you’re setting this holiday novella in Erie, Pennsylvania.  The words Lake Effect Snow are music to my family’s ears—and Erie weathermen and women use that term a lot.  Oh, and Spruced Up is a fun story, too.”  ~Frosty the Snowman

"I'm so glad to see your are finally making use of the typewriter I gave you when you were five. You've been so good this year, I think I'll bring you that Commodore 64 you've been asking for, Holly. Love that name.”  ~Santa Claus (and thanks to Santa’s friend, Phyllis, for sending his review along!)

“My nose isn’t the only thing glowing after reading Holly’s Spruced Up, so is this review!  A glowing review…get it??  (I’ve found people humor is very different from the reindeer games I’m used to, so I wanted to be sure you understood that was funny.)  Anyway, the story shined…or shone…or…  I’m just a reindeer, so I’m not sure about the grammar, but let’s just say, Spruced Up was holiday fun!” ~Rudolph, The Red-Nosed Reindeer

“Not a big mystery, but an awful lot of Christmas spirit…a touching story.” ~Ebenezer Scrooge (Holly said this should be a funny review, but even though I discovered my Christmas spirit, I still don’t have much of a funny bone.)

Book, Reviews, Excerpt

Excerpt

Spruced Up: A Maid in LA Holiday Novella
Copyright 2013 Holly Jacobs

 “Quincy Mac, you’ve done it.” Lottie Webber screamed as I spotted her Erie International Airport.  A giant Christmas tree stood in the corner of the lobby, holiday music played over the speakers and people were dressed in winter-weather wear.

 “Now where are your glasses?” she asked.

 I was wearing my warmest coat, which in Erie could be considered a fall coat at best.  I did own Uggs more as a fashion statement than winter wear.   I’d had to dig to the back of my closet to find them when I packed. 

 I took in the sights and sounds…I was home.
 Before that feeling truly set in I was swept into my childhood best friend’s hug—which was well padded by her down coat.  Gone were the two career women we’d grown into.  As we hugged, we were both squealing like we were high school girls again. 

 Yeah, it’s not pretty when two women pushing forty act like they’re fourteen, but sometimes it can’t be helped.  It had been years since I’d seen Lottie but she hadn’t changed at all.  Lottie was short and twiggishly built.  With anyone else who was so darned cute, I’d have been tempted to suck in stomach, but this was Lottie.  I knew she loved me baby-pooch and all.

 “I don’t know that maids get red carpet treatment,” I said when our squealing abated.  “But I still have my glasses.” 

 I was pleased I’d thought of those star glasses. Lottie had given them to me so many years ago when I left Erie, Pennsylvania for Hollywood, California. I’d had my bags, my glasses and dreams of stardom.

 I might not be a star, but I’d built a good life in LA.

 Still I pulled out the glasses and slipped them on.

 Lottie squealed all over again.  “Really, you kept them?  All these years?”

 “Of course I did.  Sorry I didn’t ever get to wear them on a red carpet.  They don’t give awards for almost toothpaste spokesman.  I missed the fame and fortune boat.”

 “Are you kidding?” Lottie reached in her gigantic purse—I mean, my carry-on that held an entire week’s worth of clothes was only slightly bigger than her purse—and pulled out a copy of The Erie Times-News, our local newspaper.  “It was in today’s paper.”

 There I was.  My Name.  Above the fold.  Yes, I’d made the front page…of the Local Section.

Erie’s Own Quincy Mac Cleans up Crime Los Angeles

 I read the paper’s online version, GoErie.com, most mornings.  I like to keep up with what was going on back home.  But between packing for myself, and for the boys, who were spending the holiday with their father and Peri, and then the flight across the country, I hadn’t read yesterday’s paper.

 I skimmed the article.

 Move over Sherlock Holmes.  Erie’s got its own super-sleuth, Quincy Mac.

 Mac is an Erie native. She’s the daughter of two local, prominent physicians.  But rather than following in their footsteps, like her brothers, she moved to Los Angeles.  She did some acting.  Most recently she’s owner of successful business.  But cleaning up other people’s homes wasn’t enough for this intrepid entrepreneur.  In her spare time, this maid in LA has solved not only a murder, but also an art heist…

 “Isn’t that awesome, Quincy?” Lottie said, her voice still near squeal pitch.  “Look, there’s your picture.” 

 My picture was below the fold.  And where on earth had the paper found it?  It was an old headshot.  I had a toothy grin in it.  My agent at the time told me that smile had convinced the Dazzling Smile’s execs I should be their commercial star.  Maybe that would have made my career.  If only they hadn’t found arsenic in the toothpaste.

 “You have to sign it for me, Quince,” Lottie said.

 “Pardon?”  I was still marveling at being compared to Sherlock Holmes.   “I need you to sign my copy of the paper.  You might not be a movie star, but they said you’re writing a screenplay based on the murder you solved?  You hold onto those glasses you might need them yet.”

 She thrust the newspaper and a red Sharpie marker at me then she squealed again.

 Passengers and their rides all turned to look at us.  Lottie pointed at me.  “She’s famous.  This is Quincy Mac, Erie’s own Sherlock Holmes, according to the Erie Times-News.   She’s a Hollywood screenwriter.”

 “I’m a Hollywood maid,” I said.

 “You’re a Hollywood business owner—a successful business owner.”  She stood there, paper and marker extended.  I set down my bag and signed away.  A big, flourishing Quincy Mac, Maid in LA.

 Lottie had always believed in me.  When I said I was going to Hollywood to be an actress, she fully expected to see me walking down a red carpet someday.  She didn’t seem to realize that I’d never actually done that.

 Lottie and I had been friends since my first day of kindergarten.  She was one of the most big-hearted people I’d ever met.  I’ve seen her give crayons and pencils to schoolmates.  I’ve watched her go buy a drink and sandwich for a homeless person.  And once, a chipmunk ran out in front of her car.  She thought she’d run it over and started to cry.  We had to turn around in a driveway and go back to check.  Thank goodness it was a fast chipmunk.  I don’t think she could have handled it if she’d smooshed it.

 That was Lottie—all heart.  The fact that she’d become a nurse was no surprise to anyone who knew her.

 Standing in the middle of Erie’s airport, wearing star glasses and signing a newspaper article, I knew without a doubt that I was famous to her.  She’d always see me as a star and never realize I was just a maid.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Watch for Swept Up: A Maid in LA Mystery #4 in early 2014