Poppy Harmon and the Pillow Talk Killer by Lee Hollis (most read book in the world .txt) 📕

part of my time here is finally getting out of that sad, lonely guest room and into the main bedroom last night. It’s done wonders for my recovery.”

“Yes, well, you can just keep that little detail to yourself when our guests arrive,” Poppy warned.

“I’m going to miss seeing your beautiful face every day. It’s going to be hard going back to the way things were, you here in Palm Springs, me up in Big Bear.”

Poppy began piling the garlic bread into a basket. “We’ll adjust, we have before.”

“But things won’t be the same . . .” Sam’s voice trailed off as he seemed to become melancholy.

Poppy stopped what she was doing. “What do you mean?”

Sam shrugged. “This thing, the heart thing, well, it’s changed me. How could it not? The guy I used to be . . .”

“You mean the big, strong, stoic cowboy who taught me how to fire a gun in his backyard? That was an image, Sam, your image, that you’ve projected to the world for as long as I’ve known you. But that’s not the Sam Emerson I know, the one who cries at all those YouTube videos where soldiers come home from overseas and surprise their kids at school, or when police officers and firefighters stand outside a hospital applauding the health-care workers who worked so hard and were so overwhelmed during the pandemic, the one who was man enough to know he needed help after a traumatic health scare. I never wanted Sam Emerson, Marlboro Man. No, this Sam, the Sam right here, is the man I’ve fallen in . . .” She abruptly stopped herself. She could see Sam’s eyes widening in surprise and anticipation. It was too late now. She had admitted it out loud already to a stranger she hardly knew, she might as well say it outright to the man in question. “. . . fallen in love with.”

Sam kissed her again. “I love you, too.”

Now that they had both finally said it out loud, Poppy felt an enormous release of pressure. There would be no more guessing. Sam was going to be around for a while. She had to admit to herself that she was going to miss seeing him in her house every day. After the dramatic events that had unfolded during the previous month and their aftermath, time just flew by. Poppy had been caring for Sam for over three weeks now, and he was finally well enough to go home and look after himself. But nothing is permanent and Poppy suspected that maybe, just maybe, Sam might be back in her new house sometime in the foreseeable future. Except the next time, strong and healthy and able to change a burned-out bulb in the carriage light above her garage door. Not that she saw the man that she loved as a glorified handyman, but it certainly didn’t hurt.

The highly publicized arrest of Hal Greenwood and his copycat son Timothy was still raging like a California wildfire through news cycles and social media and their trials were not even scheduled to begin for at least a year. Poppy tried ignoring all the hysteria and hoopla but couldn’t avoid the onslaught of press announcements heralding the exploitation of the Pillow Talk Killer. Already a TV movie called Like Father, Like Son was in development at Lifetime. Donald Carter’s wife, Rosemarie, Danika’s stalker, Byron Savage, and Hal’s longtime personal assistant had all scored major book deals for big bucks. As for Poppy’s comeback role in Palm Springs Weekend, Netflix was taking full advantage of the film’s sudden notoriety with a major fall rollout with millions in ads and promotion. Poppy just held her breath, mentally preparing for the onslaught to come, hoping to keep as low a profile as possible until all the intense interest mercifully subsided.

Unfortunately for Joselyn, the actress who had resumed the leading role following Danika’s murder, her rising star was already sputtering out. Word came from the editing room that she was a decidedly lackluster presence, failing to match the charismatic heights of her predecessor, the far more talented Danika Delgado. According to the director Trent Dodsworth-Jones, who gave an interview in Entertainment Weekly about the upcoming film, the true star to watch was the previously unknown Matt Flowers, Trent’s new discovery and muse who he promised had delivered a star-making performance. True to form, at least on the outside Matt shrugged off the accolades, claiming it was just engineered publicity for the movie. But Poppy could tell that on the inside he was bouncing off the walls like an excited kid on Christmas morning. Although Matt continued assuring Poppy that he was loyal to the Desert Flowers Detective Agency, Poppy knew it was easy for him to say that with the film still on the horizon. What Matt’s future held beyond the film’s release, well, only time would tell.

The doorbell rang.

Sam sighed, frustrated. “All right, you win, let’s play host and hostess. Is it Iris and this new fella she can’t stop talking about?”

“Roy Heller, speaking of macho hero types,” Poppy laughed. “No, Iris is still working on that particular project.”

“Then who is it?”

Poppy smiled knowingly and walked out of the kitchen, Sam following her. She went to the front door and swung it open. Violet and Phil McKellan stood there, Phil clutching a bottle of red wine, which he handed to Poppy.

“Thank you, come in,” Poppy said, stepping aside and ushering them into the foyer. “Sam, you know Violet, and this is Phil McKellan.”

“Pleasure,” Sam said, extending a hand.

“Nice to meet you, Sam,” Phil said, smiling.

Violet appeared as if she was ready to burst with joy.

It had been a long time since she had dated a man.

And after an admittedly rough start with Phil, Violet had done a lot of soul searching, and with Poppy and Iris’s urging, she had decided to give the guy a second chance.

It was a smart decision.

The two looked blissfully happy together and a perfect fit.

“Make yourselves at