A scorching Las Vegas summer is about to get even hotter.
Aspiring journalist Copper Black has just found out that her boyfriend is responsible for his not-quite-ex-wife’s pregnancy. An unexpected house-sitting job at a notorious Las Vegas “party house” should provide not only a pool with a swim-up bar but also much-needed distraction.
While researching a story about an exclusive private school, Copper accidentally discovers the dead body of the school’s beloved founder. Now involved in a high-profile murder investigation, Copper turns to her brother, a civic-minded pastor who is overseeing the construction of a center for the homeless. A Paiute medicine man claims the site is a sacred burial ground, attracting hordes of protesters.
As she tries to solve the murder, help her brother, advance her career, and sort out her love life, Copper stirs up a world of trouble. Her escapades as she evades a sociopath, a disturbed cowgirl, and a suspicious homicide detective make Megan Edwards’ rousing debut novel Getting Off on Frank Sinatra a nonstop roller coaster of a read.
Purchase Getting off on Frank Sinatra: A Copper Black Mystery
Megan Edwards lives and writes in “fabulous” Las Vegas, Nevada. She never dreamed she’d call “Sin City” home, but when she arrived at the end of 1999 to do a little research for a book, she fell in love with the city beyond the neon and and never left. Actually, she loves the neon, too. In fact, she’s crazy about the whole place — quirks, warts, super-hot summers, and all. Edwards writes about “real life in the shadow of the Strip” for Living-Las-Vegas.com, but what she likes best is crafting fiction set in her adopted hometown. Getting off on Frank Sinatra is her first novel.
“Edwards makes an assured fiction debut. This amusing mystery stars aspiring journalist Copper Black, a contributor to a Las Vegas newspaper, who must navigate a multitude of personal and professional hurdles…Copper learns enough secrets to make deadly enemies before emerging bruised, battered, victorious, and primed for new comic adventures.”— Publisher’s Weekly
“Copper’s debut has enough pizzazz to make readers want to try just one more roll of the dice.”— Kirkus Reviews
“This is a novel that has action, drama, comedy, suspense, a few surprises and paints a colorful tapestry of modern Las Vegas.”— The Good Men Project
“‘Getting off on Frank Sinatra’ is a wild romp through Sin City through the eyes of the main character, Copper Black, who finds herself knee deep in a murder mystery.”— Francine Brokaw, The Daily Herald
“With a narrative highlighted by light violence, and a fish-out-of-water protagonist stumbling over clues, Edwards’s “Getting Off on Frank Sinatra” proves to be a nimble beginning for this crime series.”— Gary Presley, Foreword Reviews
“From its sly title to its high-energy ending, Getting off on Frank Sinatra is a delightful romp rooted in Las Vegas’ intoxicating history. In this sunny crime drama, Edwards captures the fun of residing in the nation’s most improbable small town.”— Laura McBride, author of We Are Called To Rise
“A must read for all mystery and crime novel readers, Megan Edwards’ new novel (is) “Getting off on Frank Sinatra.”–Judy Shields, The Hollywood Times
“Full of plot twists, historical and unknown facts about Las Vegas like the neon signs junk yard, “Getting off on Frank Sinatra” is an entertaining mystery that will have you chuckle and on edge.”— Hampton Rhodes, zootscoop.com
A zany, fun, action-packed tale that will keep you laughing and turning the pages. The magic of Las Vegas and its cast of characters are on full-display and will completely charm you. Getting off on Frank Sinatra is entertainment worthy of Sin City, America’s entertainment capital.”— Deborah Coonts, author of The Lucky O’Toole Vegas Adventure Series.
“Megan Edwards views her adopted city with a journalist’s eye and an insider’s understanding of what makes us tick.”— Brian Rouff, Author of Money Shot
“Megan Edwards spins a brilliant tale filled with sharp humor and characters who will lead you on a quintessential Vegas adventure. I cannot recommend it highly enough.”— Oksana Marafioti Author of American Gypsy: A Memoir
“A fun Las Vegas ride!”— Doug Elfman, Author/Journalist, Las Vegas Review-Journal
My life in Las Vegas improved dramatically when I started getting off on Frank Sinatra. That’s what I tell people. Then, while they’re still trying to figure out how to react, I continue.
“I’d like to get off on Dean Martin, too, but I just can’t. And in case you’re interested, Mel Tormé is too short, Hugh Hefner’s a dead end, and I can never remember whether Jerry Lewis goes both ways.”
The truth is, I can never even remember where Jerry Lewis is exactly, but I know there’s a street named after him somewhere on the west side. Hugh Hefner is really just a driveway next to the Palms casino, and Mel Tormé can claim only one block near the Fashion Show Mall. Frank Sinatra, on the other hand, really takes a girl places. When I-15 is jammed, I leave the red lights to the tourists and slip off to join the taxis and locals zipping unimpeded up the back side of the Strip. Dean Martin serves almost the same purpose on the other side of the freeway, but he didn’t rate an exit. So Ol’ Blue Eyes is my man. When life in the fast lane slows to a crawl, I know I can count on Frank for relief.
In fact, getting off on Frank Sinatra saved my life the time a crazed maniac in a jacked-up Ram pickup tried to push me off the freeway. If Frank hadn’t been right there offering a quick getaway, bits of my DNA might still be clinging to the embankment just north of Russell Road.
Now that I think of it, Frank Sinatra also helped me out the day I found my first dead body. It was the hottest day of the millennium, and I had not only discovered the bloody corpse of a local philanthropist, but I’d spent more than three highly stressful hours with a homicide detective who was trying to decide whether I was capable of mutilating a woman’s face and strangling her with a drapery cord. A traffic jam on the way home might well have turned me into a genuine psycho killer, but there was good ol’ Frank waiting to fly me to the moon. Or at least get me up to Flamingo without committing a felony.
I should never have found that body, let alone recognize that it belonged to Marilyn Weaver. Yes, that Marilyn Weaver, the founder of the most prestigious school in Las Vegas and the city’s best-loved altruist. I had met her only the day before, and I had met her son just that afternoon. How I ended up snooping in her bedroom, looking inside her closet, and entangling myself in a high-profile murder investigation is a perfect example of that plentiful Las Vegas commodity: bad luck. I’m going to call it bad luck, at least. Because if I don’t call it bad luck, I’ll be stuck agreeing with what I know my family and friends think: It was David’s fault.
Before my rendezvous with murder, David Nussbaum and I were as perfect a pair as Barbie and Ken. Like them, we were designed to complement each other. I’m blonde, and he’s dark. He’s Jewish, and I’m a WASP. We do have some things in common, of course. We both come from commuter towns north of Manhattan, and we both went to Princeton. I still think it’s ironic that we met in Las Vegas instead of on the East Coast, and until everything flipped upside down, it was my favorite coincidence. The day I hooked up with David was the day I smelled the roses, saw the birds, and heard the music. The morning he turned twenty-eight, I still lived in paradise.
By midnight, I’d moved to hell.
Trade Paper: $15.00 US / $20.50 CDN ISBN: 978-0997236903
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Audiobook: Unabridged 10 hours/44 minutes, Em Eldridge, Narrator
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