Margot Cartwright is not exactly blending in with the residents of Glenville, South Carolina. An unwilling transplant from Washington, D.C., Margot feels like a fish out of water among the Lululemon-wearing, tiny-dog-owning, non-New Yorker-reading locals who are clamoring to have their fur babies star on Pawsh, a reality TV show about couture canines. (Sure, Margot loves her dog, but Sid Vicious is far too cool of a mutt for a show like that!) She even feels like an outcast amongst her family, and after she’s caught channeling her inner “Robin Hood” by stealing her neighbors’ pro-Pawsh signs, further cementing her title as the neighborhood pariah, she thinks things can’t possibly get any worse, right?Wrong. When the local dog walker is killed in a bizarre incident involving an over-the-top Halloween display featuring multiple Home Depot skeletons, all eyes turn to Margot. To clear her name and save her family from falling apart, Margot vows to find the real killer before they strike again—but she can’t do it alone.Enter Anne, a glamorous septuagenarian widow determined to maintain her reign over the HOA, and Sally-Claire, a "Mom Life" sweatshirt-clad member of the “Mommy Mafia” who might not be as perfect as she seems. Together, the unlikely trio (along with their canine companions) dives into the mystery, navigating the quirky and secretive world of Glenville’s residents. Can they solve the case before it’s too late, or will Margot’s reputation be permanently dog-eared?
My Review:
I really wanted to love this as the cover is amazing, I love dogs and I love cozy mysteries but this was just disappointing. The murder solving/investigation was far fetched and the characters left a lot to be desired. Hope you have better luck!
There was a skill required of disturbing the peace in your backward town, a careful choreography of limbs and breath, pacing and restraint, not unlike parkour or interpretive dance or spelunking. You had to strike at exactly the right moment-wait a second, not yet, not yet, okay, now—so as to ensure maximum impact. Margot always loved that part, right when everyone realized what was happening. One second the crowd was a sea of pleasant neutrality, and the next it all fell away. It was a powerful feeling, to know you could at any point make people drop their veneers. That you could cause their mouths to hang dumbly open, their eyes to bulge, that you could make them look like the blinking animals they really were. The whole thing went beyond just skill, really: Margot considered public disruption an art form.
And she was mother-fucking Leonardo da Vinci.
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