Discover. . .: A Birthday with the Gift of Murder #cozymystery

Wednesday, May 24, 2023

A Birthday with the Gift of Murder #cozymystery

My sister and I enjoy a chocolate martini twice a year, once in the spring for her birthday and again in the fall for my birthday at the Hasayampa Inn in Prescott, Arizona in the saloon called the Peacock Room. This tradition is what led to the cozy mystery series I’m writing with co-author Joyce Proell.

Candy,Cigarettes, and Murder released in March.

Book two, Reading, Writing, and Murder is set to release in September.

It’s a birthday weekend with the gift of murder.

When Sisters Emma and Nic check in at the storied Dulce Inn for a relaxing, birthday weekend, they don’t expect a madhouse of temperamental artists or getting entangled in two murders. Using their love of all-things mystery, and despite a surly detective who stands in their way, can the Chocolate Martini Sisters tackle the caper, unsnarl the web of secrets, lies, and vengeance to catch the killer?

EXCERPT:

Before the waitress could open her mouth, Shaw bit into her. “What is the sauce on this chicken supposed to be?”

“You ordered the Southwest Chicken in Chipotle Cream.”

“I’m quite aware of what I ordered, young woman. What’s your name?”

“Karen, sir.”

“Karen what?”

“G-Gonzalez. Karen Gonzalez.”

“Well, Ms. Gonzalez, instead of telling me something I already know, why don’t you tell me what a chipotle cream should taste like?”

Is that Nic coming from the Azul?

The young woman’s bottom lip trembled, and her eyes sparkled with unshed tears.
“Do you know?”
Nic braced her hands on the table, ready to spring to the hounded girl’s rescue. “What a jerk.”
“I don’t know how he can complain.” Her sister spoke around a mouthful. “It’s what I ordered, and the sauce is delicious.”
“Em—”
“Sit back and eat. No need for you to make a scene.” She swallowed and feathered fingers in the air. “We’ll have a word with the manager on how well Karen responded and leave her a good tip. That’s a better way to seek justice for her than disrupting everyone’s meals.”

Two tables over, Karen’s shoulders hunched and her chin dipped before the haughty restaurant critic. “Could I get you something else, sir?”

“If I’d wanted something else, I would’ve ordered it.” The veins in his temples bulged. “Get me the chef. Now!”

“Yes, sir.” The server hustled out of the dining room.

“I hope the head chef is the type to light fireworks rather than bend over backwards for the ass.” One glance at Em told her she didn’t feel the same.

Her sister released a sigh. “This is supposed to be a quiet dinner in the ambience of a fine hotel. The start of a relaxing weekend.”

“Good grief, Em. You don’t get this kind of entertainment without paying for it. This is like dinner theater.” She shoveled in a healthy bite of mushrooms and beef, giving an appreciative hum to accompany her chewing.

The double doors of the kitchen flew open. Out came a stocky man dressed in a double-breasted white jacket with gold buttons, black slacks, and a burgundy ascot at his throat. If the outfit didn’t clue the restaurant patrons as to his profession, the poufy chef’s hat hanging to one side would. Like a charging bulldog, he tore a path directly to Shaw, clasped one hand in another in front of him, and nodded his head. “I’m Head Chef Grayson Payne. What seems to be the problem?”