New cover!
Here's the blurb that will be on the back of the book:
"Susan Cramer was desperately in need of a vacation, but not at
the expense of another dead man."
A
leisurely vacation turns deadly when an old man falls dead at Susan's feet on
the cruise ship Aloha.
Was
she some sort of death magnet?
Maybe
so. Maybe not.
One
thing was for sure. Through the lies, secrets, and surprises to be discovered
on board and off, Susan will learn
at least one important thing, and this thing called "love" will be something she wished had never
followed her out to the high seas.
The old man wore a black suit, a starched
white shirt and a black bow tie, the standard fare for men of his age. They
were both on a cruise ship, and though she didn't really know him, they’d been
speaking. At least, she'd been speaking. The man was drunk and could hardly
stand; he'd kept asking her to repeat herself.
She'd been speaking about her divorce
and subsequent trip when his blue-gray eyes had clouded over and he'd collapsed
in a heap in front of her.
She'd reached for him, of course. But
his body had slipped through her fingers like a fish in shallow water. He'd tried to breathe, taking in two shallow
gasps. But he was lying there now, his blistered face to the sky, his eyes
staring, his left leg bent behind him in some sort of twisted leap. He was
dead, Susan was sure of that.
“Help!” she screamed, watching the
dance floor for someone, anyone...
And then suddenly, she was there, an
old woman in a gold dress, her bronzed skin twinkling against the burnished
fabric. She leaned over the man.
“What happened?” the old woman's voice
quivered. It reminded Susan of a child’s.
As the salty air caressed Susan's cheeks,
she looked out at the great blue ocean for only a moment and thought of Henry.
“I…I don’t know, we were just
talking.”
The woman in gold, her hair perfectly
coiffed, reached for the man’s wrist. And in that moment Susan saw Henry James
as John Middleton, lying dead by the old coal burning stove at the Hotel Camaro.
The woman was sobbing, leaning over
the man, trying to shake him awake.
“What did you do?” she wailed. Her
eyes were a blotchy black and mascara was running down her naked
neck.
Susan looked away.
The champagne glass near the deck’s
railing had spilled. The place where it lodged was a red and sticky, wet.
“I can’t wake him!”
The waves must have crashed against
the large cruise ship, but Susan hardly noticed; she barely saw those who had
suddenly gathered around her including the face of Charles, one of the officers
on board ship. He pronounced the man dead.
“But, how can he be…dead?” the old
woman gasped, holding her chest, breathing in the sea air in shuddering gasps.
Susan stood next to the railing. She
looked out at the sea and wasn't sure when the old man was taken away with his
sobbing wife. How had she gotten to the railing anyway? Why was the man dead? And
just as important, who had killed him?
***
Comments or questions? Would you like to review the book for me in exchange for a free copy? Contact me at: kathy@ariverofstones.com.
Haven't read book one yet? Find it here.
