Never chase a killer in heels.

Freelance travel reporter Mikaela “Mike” Mitchell can see the headline now: Trollop Turned to Tar on Texas Trail. Dumped in the middle of the road, she’s run out of lifelines until a beast on a matte-black bike rides to her rescue.

Ryder Ruiz loves his motorcycle, his adopted town, and his cat. Not long-legged brunettes abandoned in road snot. But before he can untangle his unexpected houseguest from his bedsheets, he’s caught up in two murder investigations. And sexy Mike is curiously connected.

Without another suspect, Mike’s stuck in Daisy until the mystery is solved. But connecting the clues is more difficult than walking in six-inch stilettos.

Ryder’s committed to helping Daisy’s clueless sheriff solve the crimes while protecting their town and keeping Mike in his sights—and, preferably, his bed. Because there’s a murderer out there—and Mike could be the next target or even the killer.

And if it’s not Mike, which of his beloved Daisy denizens has gone too far?

Tropes

Cozy mystery meets erotic romance, amateur female sleuth, former military hero, small quirky town, whodunit

Excerpt of Dirty Daisy

The late afternoon summer sun beat down, slow cooking her like BBQ ribs in an oil drum smoker. If she didn’t figure out how to move—soon, and in what direction—she was dead. The only question was how she’d meet her doom? Dehydration? Hungry critter? Exsanguination from killer mosquitos? And since she was supposed to be gone all weekend under the guise of doing research for a travel article, it would be days before her roommate and best friend, Heather, noticed Mikaela missing. She dug into the asphalt with her good foot, inching her way toward safety.

A distant hum teased the air. Peering in the direction she’d come from, a small black speck emerged through the haze. A vibration rattled up from the road, shaking her bones. Mikaela scooched again, moving about as fast as a pregnant tortoise but desperate to avoid being added to the goo.

A lethal, matte-metal machine pounded into focus before she’d covered half the distance to the edge. No way would she make it. She waved her arms, but the rider, covered head to boot in black, raced toward her like a demon released from hell. Fuck.

She could see the headline: “Trollop Turned to Tar on Texas Trail.”

She squeezed her eyes closed and braced for impact.

Nothing.

She raised one eyelid. The front tire had burned to a stop inches from her bare thigh. Huffing out a breath, she opened her mouth to rail at the asshole about the dangerous stunt and then froze, taking in a mountain of leather.

The biker dropped the kickstand and leaned the silenced machine to the side. He lifted his beefy leg over the seat, lug sole boot dropping like a boulder to the ground. He—for there was no mistaking that monster as anything but male—stalked toward her. A full helmet with a mirrored visor hid his face. Her reflection was a wounded rabbit in the presence of the big, bad wolf. At least she hadn’t screamed—her pride remained intact.

The beast scooped her up and silently strode back to his metal horse. He released her onto the seat, and she hastily slung the strap of her bag across her body. Then he straddled the seat in front of her, pushing her legs wide, knocking the stand back with his heel, and tilting the bike back to center. The mechanical pulse rumbled through her core as she flailed to find purchase for her feet, losing one of the cursed espadrilles in the process. He grabbed her left arm and tugged it around his waist to the rock wall of his abdomen.

Mikaela shut down any protest and snapped her other arm around him as they rocketed in the same direction the damn van had gone. A ride was a ride when abandoned to the vultures.

Accolades for Dirty Daisy

2021 Daphne du Maurier Honorable Mention