Champagne Witches
(2022)
Champagne Witches
(2022)
You haven't truly lived if you've never talked a jilted werewolf out of cold-blooded murder, but when you're staring fifty in the eye, you start to wonder if you're getting too old for that sh*t.
I'm Jules Cavanaugh, and I've been a private investigator all my life. I learned it from my dad, who learned it from his. I took the family business in a different direction, though, because on top of being a damned good investigator, I'm also a kickass witch, though I'm not kicking quite as high as I used to these days.
Paranormal investigations can get messy in a hurry, and after closing out a particularly grueling - though mind-numbingly boring - case, I decide I've earned a vacation. My bones ache and my attitude hurts, and if I don't take a break, I'm gonna end up beating some whiney heiress or entitled trust-fund baby to death with their own limbs.
When one of my clients offers up his penthouse at a luxury beach resort, I jump on it. The idea of seven days poolside, champagne in hand and ocean waves crashing in the background, is too much to resist. With the promise of booze-soaked pineapple wedges and cocktail shrimp, I lure my raven familiar along for the ride.
Is R&R what I get, though? Of course not. I barely make it through the first champagne brunch before a dead body turns up in the laundry chute. When the local cops deem it an open-and-shut case, I know something's up in paradise. The silver-spoon witnesses are lying, the evidence is flimsy, and I know in my bones the poor maid is being framed.
Is it really too much to ask for Fate to give me just one week of peace? Apparently so, but them's the breaks when you're a witch PI.
This is the first book in my Jules Cavanaugh, Midlife PI Mysteries series.
I'm Jules Cavanaugh, and I've been a private investigator all my life. I learned it from my dad, who learned it from his. I took the family business in a different direction, though, because on top of being a damned good investigator, I'm also a kickass witch, though I'm not kicking quite as high as I used to these days.
Paranormal investigations can get messy in a hurry, and after closing out a particularly grueling - though mind-numbingly boring - case, I decide I've earned a vacation. My bones ache and my attitude hurts, and if I don't take a break, I'm gonna end up beating some whiney heiress or entitled trust-fund baby to death with their own limbs.
When one of my clients offers up his penthouse at a luxury beach resort, I jump on it. The idea of seven days poolside, champagne in hand and ocean waves crashing in the background, is too much to resist. With the promise of booze-soaked pineapple wedges and cocktail shrimp, I lure my raven familiar along for the ride.
Is R&R what I get, though? Of course not. I barely make it through the first champagne brunch before a dead body turns up in the laundry chute. When the local cops deem it an open-and-shut case, I know something's up in paradise. The silver-spoon witnesses are lying, the evidence is flimsy, and I know in my bones the poor maid is being framed.
Is it really too much to ask for Fate to give me just one week of peace? Apparently so, but them's the breaks when you're a witch PI.
This is the first book in my Jules Cavanaugh, Midlife PI Mysteries series.
