About the book
There’s trouble in paradise, in the hilarious second book of the Red Frog Beach Mystery Series.
Ready to go back to the beach?
Lexie Milano left her heart in Bocas del Toro, and the new and improved New Yorker makes the big choice to move to the laid-back Caribbean island permanently. Piña coladas, white sand beaches, and a little cabin of her own on the edge of the rainforest complete her picture of the perfect tropical future awaiting her. But if it looks too good to be true, it usually is. . . .
When the body of a beautiful wealthy local is found at an isolated surf camp, the owner calls on Lexie to help him figure out who did it in this delicious whodunit. Reluctant sleuth Lexie first turns to the police, but her sudden access to a treasure-trove of island secrets convinces her it’s time to solve another murder on her own.
Favorite characters from Drowning Lessons return to grace the pages of this comedic mystery, including Migs, the handsome photographer; Lloyd, the genius with the cryptic past; and Lexie’s new best friend, Detective LaGuardia. Between old friends, new associates, and the added potential of shark attacks, The Wipeout Affair will leave you laughing and guessing until the very end.
This is the second in the series but can be read as a stand alone novel.
Character guest post
MEET CRAZY DAISY
So I was talking to this woman
who came to my nightclub on Friday
Night. She was prob too drunk to
be dancing, so I took her up to VIP room #3. She’d been dumped one day into
their three-week visit to Bocas del Toro. Men. I’m telling you. She asked if
she could stay at my house for the night, and I had to say, “No, way, babe.”
She began to cry. Whatevs. I kind of move around at this point, since my
long-term-love-of-my-life mugged me off for no apparent reason. Men. Especially
men on an island full of girls in bikinis drinking Dueling Dragons.
She said that a friend of hers
recommended journaling. How’s what going to help? “Write it down,” she said.
“You’ll figure out that you’re exactly where you are supposed to be.” When she
left, she almost rolled down the stairs, so I gave her $20 and led her to the
hostel next to my club, The End of the World. My personal philosophy is that I
only care about the fun my partiers are having that night; the next morning is
their own business. I’m not one to peel a twenty off my roll, but her broken
heart smashed into mine so courtesy… See, I’m generous. I’m not all bad.
Write it down? The only writing
I’d done in the last year was on orders for more booze and temporary tattoos.
Paper straws and toilet paper. I could hardly read my name anymore. Daisy Dali.
Thanks, Mom. My nickname on the island is Crazy Daisy. No one thinks I know,
but that’s ten pounds of stupid. I know everything that goes on this island.
Besides, I’m blessed with the power of ears…
Ok, true love and this journal,
which is actually napkins, and I can hardly read what on cloud cuckoo I’m
writing. Ah well. It felt to get it right.
True love. Isn’t there a saying,
“If you love someone, set them free and then they come back?” Something like
that. I had it. I lost it. I’m getting it back.
I’ll keep this quick as
crackers. Hywel. Beautiful Hywel. He’s sex on wheels. No. As he owns a surf
camp, I guess you’d say sex on a surfboard. Doesn’t have the same ring. Super
tall, blue eyes, and chill as a frozen margarita. Like, we didn’t make sense,
and that’s why we made sense. Two years, three months,
and six days. Not that I’m counting. But he loved me. He said he loved me.
So ten weeks ago we’re laying
out at Red Frog Beach. My hair was periwinkle for the summer. He hung out there
all the time on his day off. Half-way through, he says, “I can’t do this
anymore.” I sat there shocked as Sally, and before I could turn around and say,
“What on god’s green earth are you talking about?” he had run halfway down the
beach.
Not cool.
There’s someone else. I know
there is. I’ll admit it, I may have threatened half the ladies on the island to
tell me what they know. I do kung-fu, you know. But what do you know? You’re a
pile of napkins.
He wouldn’t talk to me at all.
He’d run if he saw me. If I showed up at his surf camp, he’d grab a board and
paddle out until I left.
The drunk girl last night said
that she had ten commandments of a relationship, and started rambling them off.
Snoozaroo. I quickly faded to thoughts of what my ten commandments.
They came to this:
- Don’t
lie to me.
- You can
run, but you can’t hide.
- Though
shall stay away from my man.
The other seven are, I guess you
would say, variations on a theme.
Two years means something. Two
years deserves a conversation. Two years deserves the truth.
I’ll find out who this new lady
is. Just watch me.
That’s true love. I’ll wait.
And others are saying about book 1 in the series
This series is one that I will be watching.
~Baroness’ Book Trove
This story is much more than a cozy mystery. It is a dramedy where literally everything that can go wrong does. Twists, turns, craziness, and good old mayhem fill these pages all on an idyllic chain of islands . . . This was a fun book to read and a great start for this series.
~Escape With Dollycas Into A Good Book
Drowning Lessons is filled with humor from beginning to end, not to mention several twists along the way. It’s the perfect beach read.
~Socrates’ Book Reviews
Great debut for this new series: a compelling plot, a spectacular setting, and bizarre characters, nothing is missing.
~LibriAmoriMiei
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