15 Minutes by Larissa Reinhart (Character Guest Post / Book Review / Contest Giveaway)

In association with Great Escapes Virtual Book Tours, Jersey Girl Book Reviews is pleased to host the virtual book tour event for 15 Minutes by author Larissa Reinhart!

Character Guest Post

Maizie Albright Star Detective 

(15 MINUTES by Larissa Reinhart)

           I have a donut issue. Not an issue with donuts. I love donuts. I love anything that’s fried in hydrogenated oil or full of trans fats. I know they’re bad for me. Jerry, my trainer—ex-trainer—lectured me endlessly on the evils of trans fats. Also the virtues of colonics, boot camp fitness, and waist trainers. Sorry, but can a colonic make you feel warm and full of love like a donut?  No. Colonics make you feel cold and empty inside. Literally. Also, colonics don’t make your mouth feel happy. Unless you’re doing them wrong.

           My therapist—ex-therapist—Renata believes that my unhealthy love of sugar and carb is a form of transferential displacement due to my childhood where my hard work was rewarded with contracts for more work, not ice cream. Which is the life of any actor. When you’re ten, it’s hard to enjoy playdates when you’re told free time is for out of work losers (Unless you’re on hiatus. But even then, hiatus should be for mid-season break jobs).

           Also, I wasn’t allowed to eat sugar and fat as a child because Vicki, my manager—and mother—knew I hadn’t inherited her metabolism and build. She didn’t have C-cups at fourteen. Neither did my father but he’s the one with the big bones. Also a big beard. But big bones look better with a beard than boobs.

           Because fat and sugar supercharge the brain’s reward system in a similar way as do drugs, gambling, sex, and other compulsive behaviors, Renata thought it best for me to do rehab for everything. So I did. A few times. Okay, three. But two were celebrity rehab and everyone knows they don’t count.

           These days I don’t drink, gamble, or do dugs—despite what you may have heard about my ex-fiance Oliver and my latest probation requiring me to leave Hollywood and return to Georgia to get a job—but I still love donuts. And now I’ve moved to Georgia where the donuts and trans fats are plentiful and delicious. Also, I’m not acting anymore. Not even on All is Albright, the reality show Vicki produces. She spun my teen acting meltdown and rehab stints into a whole new career. For her. As for me, I’ve been wanting to get out of show business ever since I left Julia Pinkerton, Teen Detective and that was six years ago. Not only did I outgrow Julia’s cheer skirt, I outgrew my fondness of the stage (and screen).

           Julia Pinkerton was the role of a lifetime, not only because we won all those awards and had record-making ad, licensing, and distribution deals, but because Julia gave me an interest in private investigations. Not Julia personally. She’s a fictional character. I’m not that kind of crazy. But the role research—like Kids Police Academy—the experts on set—like Detective Earl King, who did buy me ice cream—and the writers—who sometimes based their stories on real investigations. Sometimes—they all inspired me to get my degree in Criminal Justice. Which I hoped to apply in my own private investigation business.

           But in Georgia, to have a private investigation office you need two years of training under a certified GAPPI (Georgia Association of Professional Private Investigators) investigator. Which is how I found (actually my ex-assistant Blake found) Wyatt Nash of Nash Security Solutions. And because my newest probation requirement cites that I not only must move from California to live with my father in Georgia but to also get a non-celebrity-type job within 10 days of moving, the timing to work for a private investigator couldn’t have been more perfect.

           For me. Not so much for Wyatt Nash, who seems to be having a financial, career, and perhaps, personal crisis. But I’m going to help him with all that. Whether it seems, he likes it or not.

           Which brings me back to the donut issue. Nash Security Solutions is found in Black Pine, Georgia. On the second floor of the old Dixie Kreme donut building. Which is still operating on the first floor. So—if I get the job—I’ll work above a donut shop.

           Which could become an issue. But then again, I have so many issues, what’s one more?

Book Review

15 Minutes by Larissa Reinhart

Book 1: A Maizie Albright Star Dectective Mystery Series

Publisher: Past Perfect Press

Publication Date: January 24, 2017

Format: Paperback - 400 pages

               Kindle - 1506 KB

               Nook - 928 KB

ISBN: 978-0997885323

ASIN: B01N77ZK94
BNID: 2940156736126
Genre: Southern Women's Mystery / Cozy Mystery

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Disclaimer: I received a copy of the book from the author / publisher in exchange for my honest review and participation in a virtual book tour event hosted by Great Escapes Virtual Book Tours. 

Book Description:

When ex-teen star Maizie Albright returns to her Southern hometown of Black Pine, Georgia, she hoped to rid herself of Hollywood tabloid and reality show hell for a new career as a private investigator. Instead, Hollyweird follows her home. Maizie’s costar crushing, but now for her gumshoe boss. Her stage-monster mother still demands screen time. Her latest rival wants her kicked off the set, preferably back to a California prison.

By entangling herself in a missing person's case, she must reprise her most famous role. The job will demand a performance of a lifetime. But this time, the stakes are real and may prove deadly.



Book Excerpt:

(Chapter One): 

#donutdilemna #B-lister 



Of course, Nash Security Solutions would be housed in a donut shop. 

Time and the elements had nearly scrubbed the painted Dixie Kreme ad from the side of the old brick building and I’d almost missed it. But with my Jag’s top down, the confectioned-carb aroma assaulted my senses. I pulled in a long, exhilarating breath, then pretended I couldn’t taste that sweet mouthful of heaven. 

My trainer, Jerry, would have accused me of manifesting donut reality through my sheer love of trans-fats. After all my years in LA, delectables like donuts should cause my brain to flash a warning with a similar intensity to the bright red neon “Fresh & Hot” sign hanging in this storefront window. However, my brain’s warning was more of an appetizing apple red. As in Snow White’s “one bite and all your dreams will come true” red. 

My therapist has an opinion on that subject, something about denied sugar both literal and metaphorical. Either way, donuts meant trouble. 

I almost buckled to temptation. But I had a mission. I sucked down another mouthful of donut air, placed one Jimmy Choo in front of the other and moved through the front door of the Dixie Kreme Donut building. Then into a dim hall, up the stairs and into a dimmer hall. And stopped before the door with the words "Nash Security Solutions" painted on the frosted glass. 

Not a modern glass door that swished when opened. An old wooden door. The whole building had that old-timey feel with the brass knobs and wood and the plaster-over-brick walls. Even the building’s front door had a half moon, stained glass window. Those adorable antiquing couples in Pasadena would have loved the Dixie Kreme building. 

For a long minute, I stood before that door inhaling eau de donut and evaluating my wardrobe choices. I wanted to look appropriate. This was my big break. Like a screen test, but better. My stylist might not have agreed on pairing the Jimmy Choos with a white, sleeveless Nina Ricci resort dress and my Chloé Clare bag. Sometimes my stylist went a little overboard. She would have gone with Louboutins and a Birkin. Keeping Up with the Kardashians and whatnot. Literally. 

But this was Black Pine, Georgia, where Loubies and Birkins weren’t fundamental. I grabbed the old-timey, brass knob of the Nash Security door and strode through with a "go get'er" set to my features, ripping off my Barton Perreira Jet-Setters and shoving them into my bag like I was on an episode of Miami Undercover. 

"Mr. Nash," I said with great authority. And then dropped my bag. Forgot to close my mouth. And I might have gasped. 

From Miami Undercover to I Love Lucy. 

Nash Security Solutions consisted of two rooms. The outer room had a battered corduroy recliner, a few metal file cabinets, and a frumpy couch. In this room, all was well, although run down and dusty. Unfortunately, the door to the second room stood open. I was unaware of the condition of that room because Mr. Nash of Nash Security Solutions was naked. 

Well, not naked-naked. Half-naked. But he was a big guy. As in tall, solid wall of muscle. Movie star muscle. Like Mr. Nash had a personal trainer who specialized in tone and definition. 

Except this was Black Pine, and I doubted Mr. Nash had ever hired a trainer to watch him sweat while screaming about the evils of trans-fats and the virtues of chili pepper colonics. Mr. Nash didn't look the type to put up with anyone yelling at him about anything. 

He did seem a little slow, though. At my authoritative "Mr. Nash," he froze. With a t-shirt in one hand. And unbuckled jeans. Giving me time to peel my ogle off all those muscles and the unbuckled buckle and peruse his facial features. His head was shaved and his nose looked broken. A wicked scar curled from his chin to chiseled jaw. 

But most astonishing, Mr. Nash’s eyes were Paul Newman blue. Startling intense, arctic blue. 

He countered my ogle for a few long seconds, taking in my hidden curves, the reddish-blonde hair, sea bottle green eyes, and a nice pair of legs. I get a lot of ogling. Vicki trained me to take ogles as a compliment. Should it bother me? Ask my therapist. She's got plenty to say on the subject, too. 

Behind me, I heard the door open and close while Mr. Nash and I continued our stare-off. 

"Didn't know you gave peep shows this early, Nash," said a deep, gravelly voice. 

I jerked my eyes off the hard body and onto the older, African-American man dropping into the recliner. He wore a chef's apron over his t-shirt and jeans and smelled of donuts. 

"Oh my God. I'm sorry," I said to all listening and glanced into the inner office where Mr. Nash fumbled with his belt buckle. 

"Why should you be sorry?" said the man, throwing the lever on the recliner to prop up his feet. "Nash's the one raised in a barn." 

"Morning, Lamar," drawled Nash, then addressed me. "Excuse me, ma'am. I'm sorry about this. Forgot to shut the door. And you are?" 

I relaxed my face, which felt squinchy. My directors hated that look because it made me look constipated rather than astonished. Taking a deep breath, I said, "I'm Maizie Albright. I mean, Maizie Spayberry. Well, it was Spayberry, and I'm thinking about switching back permanently. Although I do like my other name. It has a better ring, which is why my manager changed it." 

Nash nodded and focused on buttoning, although he revealed a flash of what I like to call "WTH face." 

"Spayberry. Which Spayberry?” said Lamar. “There's a ton around here. Unless you mean Boomer Spayberry? Of DeerNose?" 

"Yes, sir. Boomer is my father." DeerNose was big among those that shopped at Bass Pro and other hunting outfitters, but I didn't get recognized as a DeerNose daughter much in LA. It produced a feeling of pride and awkwardness. Among hunters, Daddy's considered the Michael Kors of clothing and accessories. He designs scented hunting apparel. The awkwardness comes with the scent. Deer pee. Big with hunters. Not so much with anyone else. 

I glanced at Nash, who was now buttoning a white dress shirt over his muscles. An Armani. A bit old, but still sharp. 

"I'm sorry, but aren't you expecting me?" I glanced at my watch. "I was told to come at this time." 

"Told by who?" Nash paused the buttoning. 

"A Jolene Sweeney. I didn't speak to her, my assistant set up the interview. Maybe our wires got crossed?" I raised my brows at the string of curses Mr. Nash uttered. "I'm sorry. Do I have the time wrong?" 

Shooting a look of concern at Lamar, Nash pushed past me to flip the lock on the front door. 

"So are you living over at the DeerNose cabin?" Lamar continued. "I heard it's pretty grand. Nice land Boomer's got, too." 

"Yes, sir," I said, watching Mr. Nash pace before the locked door. "I haven't been in Black Pine for about six years. As a kid, I spent my summers here. Although I would’ve been better off moving back a long time ago. But you can't change the past. At least that's what Renata says." 

"Who's Renata?" asked Lamar. 

"Oh, my therapist. The last one." I bit my lip, realizing you shouldn't admit to numerous therapists in an interview. Or what should be an interview. "It's something we do in LA." 

"Therapy?" asked Lamar. 

"Rehab." Then bit my lip again. 

Lamar smiled. He didn't seem to find Nash's pacing at all unnerving. "That's right. Boomer Spayberry's daughter is the TV kid. Maizie Albright. You were on that teen detective show, wasn't it?" 

"Yes, sir. Julia Pinkerton: Teen Detective." I grinned. "Before that was Kung Fu Kate. And a few pilots and TV movies. Julia's where my career really took off. And what inspired my new career." 

"I don't watch much myself. Nash and I still prefer the radio for the Braves and Bulldogs." 

"Because you're too cheap to pay for cable," said Nash. 

"Don't need it," said Lamar. "You've got enough equipment, you could probably rig yourself some satellite TV." 

"What did Jolene say?" asked Nash. 

I looked from Nash to Lamar. He folded his arms behind his head. 

"Miss Albright?" Nash's voice grew impatient. 

“Me? Like I said, I didn't speak to Jolene. My assistant, Blake, did. Blake's gone now, or I would call her. I had to let all my people go. That was hard." 

"The meeting, Miss Albright?" 

"I'm sorry. It was about the apprentice position? I need two years training for private investigation and you need—” 

"I need nothing." Nash swore using words not altogether familiar to me. And after living in LA, that's surprising. "Can you believe this?" 

"Well," I slowed my speech. "I did believe it sounded legitimate. I mean, I haven't been in Black Pine for a while, but I assumed, or at least Blake assumed, everything was aboveboard. I think she checked your agency with Better Business or something—” 

"I was talking to Lamar," sighed Nash. "Lamar, what do you make of this?" 

"You know my feelings. But you could use help, Nash," said Lamar. "I'd ask about qualifications." 

Nash turned from the door to look at me. 

"Me?" I said. "I've been studying Criminal Justice at U Cal, Long Beach. While doing the show. But if you don't watch TV, you probably didn't know that. The producers liked the location shots on campus. I had to draw the line at them following me into class, because the professors got upset—” 

"What show is that?" said Lamar. "One of them reality shows?" 

"All is Albright. It got picked up after the first time I went to rehab. Vicki's idea to capitalize on my notoriety. Awkward, right? I was ready to be done with TV altogether, but it did pay for college. And all the legal fees. And my other bills—” 

"Are you for real?" asked Nash. "Is this some kind of prank? Candid Camera type of thing?" 

"Candid Camera? Like Betty White's show?” I shook my head. “I am entirely serious. Before I left California, I had Blake research private investigation agencies in Black Pine and yours was all she came up with. Is Jolene Sweeney your partner? Because I'm starting to wonder how Blake made the appointment—” 

"Even I'm not old enough to remember Candid Camera, Nash," said Lamar. "I swear, you were born in the wrong century. Although, I'm not much for reality shows. Except Cops, I do like Cops." 

"Well, last season was a bit like Cops," I said. "That's when Oliver's non-profit was busted, unfortunately. Which led to my recent predicament. However, my therapist, Renata, and I do agree it all worked out for the best. I wanted out of LA. And this is a better way to fulfill my dream. A healthier alternative." 

"Now that sounds interesting," said Lamar. "A bust as a healthier alternative. Not heard that view before." 


"I think I've heard enough," said Nash.

My Book Review: 

I have been a fan of author Larissa Reinhart's Cherry Tucker Mystery Series, so when I saw she had a new series coming out, I was eager to read it and let me tell you, Larissa does not disappoint her fans!

15 Minutes is the first book in the Maizie Albright Star Detective Mystery Series. Written in the first person narrative, the reader is transported to Black Pine, Georgia, to follow ex-teen reality star Maizie Albright's first investigative adventure.

Maizie puts her Hollywood career behind her and returns to her hometown of Black Pine, Georgia to start a new career as a private investigator. But it seems like she can't leave Hollywood behind when she reprises a role and immerses herself in a missing person's case that has plenty of trouble and danger around every corner.

This was such a fun whodunit to read, it had a great mixture of mystery, romance and humor. I easily found myself entertained by Maizie's craziness and her madcap investigative adventures. From Maizie's dysfunctional family, to her romantic issues, to her amateur sleuthing skills, this sassy southern lady's antics kept me entertained and laughing as I followed her quest to solve the missing person's case.

With a zany cast of characters who keep the reader in stitches with their witty dialogue and hilarious interactions; a storyline filled with enough drama, suspense and twist and turns that keeps the reader guessing; and a richly detailed setting that transports the reader to a quirky Southern small town; 15 Minutes is an entertaining new cozy mystery interwoven with Southern charm and humor that leaves you wanting to go on more crazy adventures with sassy Maizie Albright!


RATING: 5 STARS 

About The Author

A 2015 Georgia Author of the Year Best Mystery finalist, Larissa Reinhart writes the Cherry Tucker Mystery and Maizie Albright Star Detective series. The first in the Cherry Tucker series, Portrait of a Dead Guy, is a 2012 Daphne du Maurier finalist, 2012 The Emily finalist, and 2011 Dixie Kane Memorial winner. She loves books, food, and travel in any and all combinations.

Her family and Cairn Terrier, Biscuit, live in Nagoya, Japan, but they still call Georgia home. You can see them on HGTV’s House Hunters International “Living for the Weekend in Nagoya” episode. Visit her website, find her chatting on Facebook, Instagram, and Goodreads, and sign up for her newsletter at http://smarturl.it/larissanewsletter.

If you enjoy her books, please leave a review. She sends you virtual hugs and undying gratitude for your support! http://larissareinhart.com/ Newsletter signup: http://smarturl.it/larissanewsletter


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Link to our House Hunters International episode: http://www.hgtv.com/shows/house-hunters-international/episodes/living-for-the-weekend-in-nagoya-japan#episode-tunein

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Virtual Book Tour Event

 15 Minutes by Larissa Reinhart ~ Virtual Book Tour Event Page

Tour Schedule:

January 24 – Laura’s Interests – SPOTLIGHT, EXCERPT

January 24 – Books, Dreams, Life – SPOTLIGHT, EXCERPT

January 25 – The Broke Book Bank – REVIEW

January 25 – Celticlady’s Reviews – SPOTLIGHT

January 26 – The Book’s the Thing – REVIEW

January 27 – StoreyBook Reviews – CHARACTER GUEST POST

January 28 – 3 Partners in Shopping, Nana, Mommy, &, Sissy, Too! – SPOTLIGHT

January 29 – Island Confidential – CHARACTER INTERVIEW, SPOTLIGHT

January 30 – Book Babble – REVIEW

January 31 – Escape With Dollycas Into A Good Book – REVIEW

February 1 – Jane Reads – REVIEW, GUEST POST

February 2 – Readeropolis – SPOTLIGHT

February 3 – Cozy Up With Kathy – INTERVIEW

February 4 – The Pulp and Mystery Shelf – GUEST POST, SPOTLIGHT

February 5 – Varietats – REVIEW

February 5 – Socrates’ Book Reviews – REVIEW

February 6 – Girl with Book Lungs – REVIEW

February 6 – Jersey Girl Book Reviews – REVIEW, CHARACTER GUEST POST

February 6 – Christa Reads and Writes – REVIEW