Cozy Florida

Tara here…

I’m thrilled to welcome COZY FLORIDA back in 2022! Let’s just think of this as a New Year, even though it’s March. What is time right now, anyway?

To kick this year off, I’d like to give you a snippet of my upcoming mystery, LIVE AND LET GRIND! This is book three in the Coffee Lover’s Mystery series, and it will be out Oct. 11 — you can pre-order now!

Here’s a bit about the book: 

Laid-off journalist Lana Lewis is thriving as the proprietor of Perkatory, a coffee shop on quirky Devil’s Beach island, Florida. She’s juggling a relationship with police chief Noah Garcia, enjoying the company of her best friend, Erica, and relishing the companionship of her golden Shih Tzu, Stanley. Only problem is her neighbor, Gus, who incessantly uses his leaf blower, disturbing everyone in the neighborhood. Lana has learned to tune it out, but Erica’s rage boils over and she confronts Gus.
 
Then Gus is found dead, killed when his leaf blower explodes. Erica immediately becomes suspect number one. But there are plenty of other candidates as well: Gus’s soon-to-be ex-wife, Honey Bailey, who thinks she’ll be written out of his will; Mickey Dotson and Doug Beck, who were scalded financially after purchasing a pirate-themed tourist cruise business from Gus; and plenty of angry neighbors who’ve had run-ins with him.
 
As the clock ticks down will Lana get someone to spill the beans on the killer so she can clear her friend’s name, or will Erica go to jail for a crime she didn’t commit?

EXCERPT:

“So what would we use? Orange extract? Juice? Hot or iced, or both?” Erica asked. I loved how we debated and decided on new drinks for Perkatory as a team. 

“Hmm.” I tapped my fingernails against the mug. “It’s been pretty warm this winter. I’d say iced. We need something light, something that makes tourists think of the beach and Florida. The iced coffee and the cold brew are still strong sellers, especially with the snowbirds from the north.” 

“Let’s see. I don’t think juice would work. Too overpowering and acidic.” Erica began swiping on her phone screen, her pale face pinched in concentration. “What about seltzer?” 

I tilted my head. “Like a nonalcoholic coffee spritzer? Is that weird and gross, or innovative and awesome?” 

Erica ran her tongue over her teeth. “I think it’s—” 

Her answer was drowned out by a high-pitched mechanical roar, and she groaned. “I can’t believe Gus is leaf blowing again. He used that stupid thing two hours ago. And last night at eight pm.” 

“He started leaf blowing at seven thirty in the morning on a Sunday?” Dad asked. 

I rolled my eyes. “That he did. You’re sure it’s not Jeri?” 

Jeri was the silver-haired retiree across the street, the only other neighbor on the block who used a blower. She’d never used hers much until Gus moved in next door to me several months ago, and she fired up her machine out of spite. Now it was like the Indy 500 on the weekends, and sometimes I couldn’t hear myself think over the roar of engines. 

Erica twisted her body so she could look out the window, which was directly behind the sofa. She parted the white, wooden blind with one finger. “Nope. It’s Gus. He got a new blower. It’s more powerful than the last one. Loud as heck. The kind that straps to his back, like a professional landscaper’s. Jerkface.” 

Dad rose and mimicked Erica while sitting in the middle of the sofa. He, too, raised one of the blind slats. “You know what I heard about Gus?” 

“What? That he has to remove every piece of organic material from his driveway three times a day because he wants to drive everyone on the street out of their minds?” Erica snorted. 

I, too, flipped in my seat and shifted a slat an inch and peered out. There was my neighbor and his industrial blower. With a slow movement of his hand, he ran the blower nozzle in a methodical pattern over his cement driveway. 

“I don’t see anything he can even blow,” I said, scanning his vibrant green lawn and lone palm tree for any evidence of leaves, dirt, or grass clippings, and finding none. “He has a lawn service come once a week. They use lots of chemicals.” 

“Don’t let Stanley pee on a lawn that’s been chemically treated, it’s bad for him,” Dad cautioned. 

“Don’t worry—I won’t. Gus already told me to keep the dog off his property.” That had been my first encounter with my new neighbor, and it hadn’t been a particularly friendly one. 

Gus was of average height and wore the unofficial male uni- form of Devil’s Beach: sandals, cargo shorts, and a T-shirt. He acted curmudgeonly, like he was in his seventies, but had a mus- cular build and the face of someone much younger. I’d once over- heard him talking on the phone about CrossFit on his way to his Corvette convertible. 

I hadn’t had much contact with him, mostly because of his curt command to keep Stanley off his lawn. 

Still, I’d tried to be friendly and, even after that rough begin- ning, brought over a tray of Nutella brownies to welcome him to the block. He’d grunted a thanks, then slammed the door. A woman, whom I assumed was a wife or girlfriend, had waved at me once, and I’d barely seen her since. I pegged her as a nurse or someone who had an overnight job. Or perhaps since I’d stopped being a journalist, I wasn’t that observant anymore. 

Dad parted the blinds even wider. 

“We might as well open the blinds and stare at him,” I deadpanned. 

Dad reached for the string to lift the blinds but I grabbed his wrist. “I wasn’t serious.” 

PRE-ORDER LIVE AND LET GRIND: https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/709882/live-and-let-grind-by-tara-lush/9781639101122/