Pancakes & Handguns

<p><strong>If the Darwin Award existed as an actual trophy I'd bet my favorite PS5 controller I'd win it...</strong></p><p><br></p><p>So here I am back in Steeltown. I'd wiped the memory of this place from my mind like it was an embarrassing drunk text. There's no happy-family welcome party either just me staring down the barrel of a felony charge <em>and</em> a gun.</p><p><br></p><p>The FBI thinks I'm going to play Nancy Drew and solve their case for them. My aunt thinks I'm here for a job interview. And my dead dad's ghost well... the fact that he's giving me advice tells you a lot about how screwed up my situation is.</p><p><br></p><p>Oh and did I mention there are two ridiculously attractive men vying for my attention? One's a dorky detective who makes terrible pancakes and the other's the FBI agent who blackmailed me into coming here. Because apparently my love life needed to be as complicated as a batch of varenyky*.</p><p><br></p><p>I'd tell you more about the Stephen King-themed bar and the blue-haired granny mafia running the place but I'm in the middle of deciding whether or not to shoot the head mafia guy.</p><p><br></p><p>It's been a busy three days...</p><p><br></p><p><em>*Ukrainian dumplings are ravioli's feisty cousin who's always ready to party in your mouth.</em></p>