Pirates, smugglers, or patriots—who’s
littering Amelia Island with corpses?
Today we have
another lovely excerpt from Flotsam & Jetsam: the Amelia Island Affair, my
cozy mystery/romantic suspense from The Wild Rose Press.
Three corpses strewn
across the sand. Who are they and how did they get to Amelia Island? State Park rangers Simon Ribault and Ellie
Ironstone must find the answers while contending with a secretive group called
the League of the Green Cross. Are the deaths linked to it? Or could they be
tied to the colorful history of the island, which was won and lost eight
times? Mucking up the investigation is
the crucial question—who will Ellie choose: Thad, the handsome local idol, and
Simon, the clever, quirky bookworm?
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| Thad's Porsche |
Excerpt: First Kiss
“Simon…”
The magic
word. He walked the finger up her arm, circled her
neck, and brought her lips to his. The kiss lingered, but not enough to satisfy
him. He had adored this little creature for so long—since she arrived at the
fort in fact, in a crisp new uniform, her campaign hat still unfaded, her
expression a mix of terror and determination. He had fallen like a shooting
star and could still feel the burn marks. But he had never in his wildest
dreams thought she might feel the same way. He sat back, letting his hand fall.
She pulled him toward her and kissed him
again. As the kiss wound down, they heard a tapping on the window. Georgia
stood on the sidewalk grinning. “There’s a hotel around the corner, you know.”
Simon swiveled to look at Ellie and found
himself the butt of a furious, hissing face. “You.”
“Me? What are you talking about?”
“Two-faced, two-timing, two-dollar bill. Or
should I say multiple timing. How many other women do you have hidden in island
nooks and crannies—this island which you know so well?”
“Huh?” This
isn’t going as swimmingly as I thought. “I…uh.”
“Take me home. Now.”
“Ellie…”
“Now.”
When they rolled up in front of Ellie’s house,
a cheery yellow bungalow on Fletcher Avenue with a wide porch and hanging
geraniums, a silver sports car sat at the curb. Oh great, the mighty Thad.
Simon’s nemesis disentangled himself from the
wheel. Slowly, as if for maximum effect, he unfurled his powerful body,
planting his size fourteen shoes solidly on the ground. A beefy hand languidly
brushed the sandy hair from his forehead. Strapping shoulders squared, he loped
over.
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| Simon's Mustang |
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