Since I am still in Italy, I decided to do a little promoting for my next book, MURDER FOR THE HALIBUT.
Here’s the blurb:
A sports writing job would have been the perfect catch for Jordan McAllister, but in Ranchero, Texas, all she could reel in was the food column. Though she may not know her way around a kitchen, she has no trouble finding herself in a kettle of fish…
Tempted by the offer of a free Caribbean cruise, Jordan accepts a spot as a judge in a week-long big-time cooking competition aboard the Carnation Queen. She just better hope no one finds out that her famous palate is far from refined.
But there are bigger fish to fry when arrogant chef Stefano Mancini falls face first into his signature halibut dish during the first event. While evidence suggests that the handsome Italian chef’s death was an accident, Jordan thinks otherwise. But she’ll have to keep her wits about her—and the sea sickness pills handy—if she’s going to solve this one…
And a short excerpt:
Will led the couple over to the table. “Jordan and George, meet the other third of the judging lineup, Beau Lincoln.”
The new arrival didn’t even try to stop his wandering eyes from scanning every inch of Jordan while he held her hand long enough to make her uncomfortable.
Sheesh! Doesn’t the idiot know his wife is right behind him?
“My job just got a little more pleasant,” he said, when he finally released her hand.
After his wife cleared her throat, he must have remembered he wasn’t alone and pulled her in front of him. “And this is my lovely wife, Sophia.”
Jordan reached for her hand, noticing how clammy it was. “Nice to meet you.”
Will reached for Sophia’s arm and pointed to where Rosie and the gang sat about four rows back. “We’re getting ready to start. Lorenzo will take you to your seat now.” He handed her off to a steward dressed in a perfectly starched white uniform.
“So, Jordan, tell me about yourself. How long have you been the culinary reporter at the Globe?” Beau asked after settling in beside her.
When Beau inched closer, she moved slightly to her left in Christakis’ direction. “Just a few months.”
“Michael said you were a chocoholic. Ever had one of my Sinfully Sweet desserts?” When she shook her head, his eyes lit up. “Then you must let me come to your room after the competition. I have a box of freshly baked Kahlúa brownies that has your name on it.”
Don’t hold your breath. She wrinkled her brow. Wait! Did he just say Kahlua brownies?
“I couldn't wait to meet you, Mr. Lincoln, after I heard so many good things about you.”
Jordan couldn’t miss the way Marsha Davenport stretched across the table to shake Beau’s hand, giving both her and the entrepreneur a straight-to-the-belly button look down her blouse. Even the chef’s apron didn't hide the attributes she'd no doubt paid a chunk of change to enhance.
Beau moved away from Jordan and settled back in his chair to take advantage of the peep show. Jordan imagined him salivating at the tasty morsel in front of him, but at this point, she was just grateful for the diversion.
“Call me Beau. And who might you be?”
Marsha pretended to be shy and fluttered her eyelashes. “Marsha Davenport. I intern in Hirosoto’s in Fort Worth.”
“I know that restaurant well,” Beau said. “Like chocolate, Marsha?” When she nodded he gave her hand a squeeze. “I’ll bring some of delicacies to your room later so you can sample them.”
Hey, those are my brownies!
Until next Monday when I’ll have so many pictures to show you and so much to tell you—Ciao!