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Rowdy drunks, pick-up lines and buckets of beer—all to be expected for a pre-trip get-together. What Adie Sturm doesn’t expect is murder. Death decides to come early. Her Days of the Dead tour has a killer on board.
A stolen statue brings Cozumel millionaire Diego Alvarez back into her life. He’ll give her anything--a private jet, a condo, and of course, himself.
And what about her ex? Wolf Du Lac is a man more delicious than chocolate but is he still hers?
Enemies creep out of the woodwork. Someone wants Adie dead. Danger and passion unite in the heat of the jungle. Two delicious men are rivals for her love. Adie wants nothing more than to find the murderer and hand him over to the police. Will she have that day in the sun with a sensuous lover or will the killer find her first?
Moments ago those same pale blues had been captivated by the clarity of the golden-hued liquid, nectar of the gods, topped with a foamy froth. Its power was unique—giving a fool courage, inspiring witty repartee, transforming a mouse into a lion. At what point had it become the enemy, delivering a bitter message before its ultimate betrayal?
Expect the unexpected is a karate motto. I had expected a rowdy Friday-night crowd, going crazy drunk. Singles trying to get lucky. It was Oktoberfest here in Kitchener—one of the biggest beer festivals in the world. I was hosting a get-together for my tour group, strangers wanting an unusual vacation with an emphasis on the Days of the Dead. Soon, we’d be in Cozumel finding out how they celebrate death. But Death had decided not to wait, making an unexpected early appearance.
I was standing on a long wooden table demonstrating the sway and toast-your-beer method practiced at the Stuttgart Club.
“Ein Prosit, ein Prosit zum Oktoberfest,” rang out from every table in the place, but I was here only in body.
My mind had wandered to the place dreams are made of—turbulent turquoise waves pounding on a powdery-white shore under a blue Caribbean sky:
Beside me on the sand, a lean, powerful man meets my eyes—heavy-lidded sapphire pools, dark with lust, reflected my own smoldering desire. Windblown, unruly hair fell over his forehead. I brushed it away, my fingers lingering in his thick locks. The fiery heat from his body radiated out to me like the tropical rays of the overhead sun. Under my roving hands, his abs felt firm and flat—his skin velvety smooth. “I have a truffle for you,” I whispered to him.
“I like chocolate,” he replied, his voice husky with desire. Soap and ocean breeze assailed my nostrils as his arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer to him. The electricity of our kiss charged every fiber in me. Molten lava filled my body with liquid heat.
From my ear to the hollow of my throat, his sensuous lips captured my skin—his tongue silken and hot, feathered lower. His hand gripped the curve of my hip. His fingertips tightened…
“Wait.” I pushed him away.
He lifted an eyebrow.
“Find the chocolate.”
His eyes scanned my bikini-clad body stretched out before him. “I love treasure hunts…” he said softly. His finger played with my strap and the skin beneath before he pulled it off my shoulder. Warm hands stroked the length of my body...
“Hey, Adie!” My beer partner shouted, rudely jolting me out of my reverie. “Adie, it’s time!” He climbed up on the table and shoved his beer stein out. I yelled back, “Prosit!” and clicked his stein.
My tour group followed our lead and knocked their steins together. But I wasn’t prepared when the impact of my mug sent my beer partner careening off the table backwards, landing on the dirt floor of the canopied festhalle.
“George?” I yelled, alarmed. He had dressed the part but was not a beer drinker…or any kind of a drinker.
I jumped off the table and hurriedly circled around to the other side. He lay there stiffly, his legs straight out—his face a deathly white. He wasn’t alone. Kneeling down on the ground in front of him, my friend, Fern, fingered his shoulder gingerly. “I think he’s passed out, Adie.” She tossed her black hair back as she looked up at me.
I glanced down at the poor schmuck. “Mmm.” I bent over and loosened his collar.
George moaned, opened his eyes wide. “Adie, this place is great, but how about you and me heading out…” George didn’t finish that thought. Abruptly, his eyes shut and he started to snore.
I waved at the bouncer standing at the doorway. He trudged over and looked inquiringly at me.
“I brought these people out tonight, but this guy,” I pointed at George, “couldn’t hold his liquor. He’s okay. Think he just needs to sleep it off. Could you move him somewhere for now, and when we leave I’ll make sure he gets home? Please, Matt?”
Book Publisher: Whiskey Creek Press
No. of Pages: 357
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