Wow. I came, I saw, I conquered the formatting and deformatting and reformatting, and the first three books of my new series The Fillmore Chronicles are now available on Kindle. Go to the Amazon Kindle Store and search on Fillmore to the Rescue, Fillmore Saves the Day, or Fillmore Rides Again. $2.99. 

Here's an excerpt from Chapter 1 of Fillmore to the Rescue:

“Any calls this morning, Fillmore?”

“No, Miss.”

“Emails?”

I don’t check my email every day.  Sometimes several days go by before I think to check my email.  So Fillmore checks my account regularly, along with his own, and keeps both humming.

He said, “One,” and delicately pushed the printout, which I had failed to notice when I came in, nearer my plate.

“Oh?  Who from?  Read it, would you?”

I sliced another bite of the crepe as he said, “It’s from Mrs. Vanderlay, Miss.”

I raised an eyebrow in surprise.  “Aunt Gazel?”   I moaned.  “Don’t tell me she’s discovered the net.”

“Apparently so, Miss.  You will remember that young Arthur, Jr. has been threatening to show her how to use her email . . . ”

“Please don’t mention that little mutant while I’m eating my breakfast.  Well, what news has the she-troll decided to share with us this morning?”

Even then, I didn’t sense the impending d.  I cringe now, remembering my careless, dismissive attitude.

He scanned the sheet of paper.  As if he hadn’t already read it.

“She’s coming to Arizona, Miss.  She wishes to be retrieved from the airport this afternoon.  Allow me, Miss.”  He stooped to retrieve the fork which had tumbled from my suddenly nerveless fingers.

“What?”

“She wishes . . . ”

“Not to stay with us . . . ”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Not this afternoon . . . ”

“Yes, Miss.  She wishes the periwinkle bedroom to be made ready.”

“Oh, no.”

If I didn’t actually shudder, I certainly felt like shuddering.

“Fillmore, are there any cigarettes in the house?”

“Miss?”

“Cigarettes.  You know, those little white – um – cigaretty things.”

“No, Miss.”

“Maybe a guest left a pack poolside and you grabbed it while you were cleaning up and absentmindedly stashed it in a drawer or something.”

He shook his head.

“There must be some cigarettes somewhere in the house.  Think, Fillmore.  I need a cigarette.”

“You don’t smoke, Miss.”

“I don’t?  I wish I did.