Summer Countdown Blitz - Day 6: DEATH UNSCRIPTED: A Trudy Genova Manhattan Mystery by Marni Graff


















Marni Graff is the award-winning author of The Nora Tierney English Mysteries, with three in print, ebooks and on Audible. She also writes The Trudy Genova Manhattan Mysteries, also in all three formats, which is based on her real work as a medical consultant for a NY movie studio.
She also writes a crime review blog, Auntie M Writes (www.auntiemwrites.com). A member of Sisters in Crime, Graff is Managing Editor of Bridle Path Press, and mentors the Writers Read program in Belhaven, NC.

Graff has been published in nonfiction, essays, poetry, and wrote for seven years for "Mystery Review" magazine. She is a frequent contributor to multiple magazines revolving around crime fiction.







Connect with the Author here: 









Trudy Genova has the best job a nurse could have: working as a medical consultant for a movie studio in Manhattan means no more uniforms, bedpans or white shoes. She's working with a womanizing actor, teaching him to fake a heart attack, when he dies right in the middle of taping--but not before pointing his finger accusingly at Trudy.
When detectives view Trudy as a suspect, she swings into action to clear her name, to the chagrin of NYPD detective Ned O'Malley. Soon the bodies mount up and Trudy realizes she's put herself in jeopardy. Based on the author's real work experience as a medical consultant, this is the book her mentor and friend, P D James, insisted she write.















Snippet:






Great. Dueling egos today and on top of that, I had to

work with Griff Kennedy, my least favorite actor. He’d come on to me a few

times too many. The ladies man seemed to think any female should be happy to be

groped by him. Several weeks ago I’d found myself alone in the rehearsal room

with him after turning down yet another invitation for a drink after work. He’d

had the temerity to fondle my breast as he tried to change my mind.





I’d shouted loud enough for the U-5’s outside the door to

hear: “Hands off, slimeball!” That line, plus a knee in the right place, had

stopped him in his tracks and he’d left the rehearsal room to a series of

titters from those lounging outside.














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