"Addison Holmes is causing trouble again and this time there are two sexy men playing with her"
Reviewed by Shellie Surles
Posted May 31, 2014
Romance Suspense
WHISKEY SOUR is the second book in the Addison Holmes
series by Liliana Hart. In this book she is on the trail of
a jewel thief who murdered the courier and stole priceless
Russian gems. With the help of a very sexy detective and an
equally sexy FBI agent Addison chases the bad guy while the
sexy cops fight over her. This is such a fun story line
that you pick up the book and don't put it down till you're
done and your cheeks hurt from smiling. How one person can
get into so much trouble while trying to do the right thing
is amazing.
Addison's private detective skills are picking up, then
falling down, then picking up and she is trying to get her
private investigators license. Addison is as always causing
hilarious trouble and this time someone was crazy enough to
let her have a gun.
Liliana Hart introduces more amazing
and hilarious characters along with a great story line in
WHISKEY SOUR. Make sure you read WHISKEY SOUR and the rest
of the Addison Holmes Mystery series
SUMMARY
Addison Holmes is at it again. When priceless Russian
gems are stolen on their way to Savannah and the courier is
murdered, all the clues lead back to an escort service that
seems above reproach. But looks can be deceiving.
Throw in a sexy detective and a dangerous FBI agent, and
Addison finds out very quickly that she's in way over her
head. But nothing is going to stop her from getting her man.
ExcerptMatt Savage was two hundred pounds of solid muscle. I
knew because he had me pressed against the wall of a teeny
tiny closet in a suite at the Marriott. His muscles had
muscles, and I was pretty sure it wasn't his gun pressing
into my belly.
Soft light seeped around the edges of the closet door,
and his eyes gleamed like black fire against the darkness
of his skin. He was fifty percent Native American and a
hundred percent raw sex. His face had been chiseled by
Michelangelo—prominent cheekbones and a sharp blade
of a nose—his lips were full, and the white scar at
his chin kept him from being too perfect.
Did I mention I was only wearing two small scraps of
lace to cover my lady bits?
If there hadn't been a dead body less than ten feet away
with more holes in it than Swiss cheese, then I'd be in a
hell of a moral predicament.
My name is Addison Holmes, and I was no stranger to
moral predicaments. I was also no stranger to dead bodies,
which was why I was gasping for oxygen instead of gasping
in pleasure. If it weren't for the fact that I had one too
many men in my life at the moment, I'm almost positive my
morals would have known what the hell to do in this
situation.
I was in danger of hyperventilating, and I couldn't
quite decide if I wanted Savage to kiss me so I could
forget that I'd just witnessed a man being blown to
smithereens, or let him give me CPR.
"Relax," he whispered against my ear. "And be ready to
move on my say so. Someone else is in the room."
He pushed me harder into the wall, his body shielding
mine, as he brought the gun in his hand up and pointed it
at the closet door. I bit my lip hard enough to taste
blood, and I took comfort in the way he put his free arm
around me. I fit against him easily—too
easily—and it was something I'd have to consider
later.
Preferably when I had clothes on.
I heard the crunch of glass as someone made their way
across the room. Then there was nothing but silence, and I
knew whoever was out there stood just on the other side of
the closet door. Savage and I both held our breaths as the
knob jiggled once before it turned.
Light flooded the closet and I squenched my eyes closed
against the glare, not having any desire to actually see my
death up close and personal. I waited for the sound of
gunfire and for hot metal to rip through my skin, but there
was nothing but tense silence.
I cracked my eyes open one at a time and immediately
wished I'd left them closed. Nick Dempsey stood in the
doorway, his weapon pointed steadily at Savage as his
glacier blue eyes met mine. I should have ignored the slow
flush of guilt that worked its way up my body. But
considering I was all but naked in a closet with a man Nick
had once threatened to cut the balls off of, and my leg was
somehow wrapped around that same man's waist, I could see
how Nick might get the wrong impression.
"It's not what it looks like," I croaked out. "I swear."
"Gee, doesn't that sound familiar." His voice was harsh,
and the lines of his mouth were pinched—a mouth that
had the ability to turn me into a puddle of jelly when it
touched my skin. "Just remember that payback's a bitch,
sweetheart."
If looks could have killed, I'd already be six feet
under. Nick and I had a tumultuous past, and from the looks
of it, we were going to have a few road bumps in our
future.
Nick sure as hell knew how to hold a grudge. It's not
like I meant to shoot him. My finger just slipped on the
trigger. I swear.
Chapter One
Wednesday—One Week Ago
Criminals are mostly dumb. At least in my experience.
And Walter Winthrop III, Noogey to his friends, was no
exception to the rule.
I squatted behind a group of dumpsters at the Lone
Ranger Trailer Park, ignoring the flies that swarmed around
day old Hamburger Helper and dirty diapers. I was
hard–pressed to tell the difference between the two
and reminded myself to get my birth control prescription
filled as soon as possible. Not that I was having a lot of
sex or anything lately, but I didn't want to take any
chances. I wasn't ready to be responsible for a child. I
was barely responsible for myself.
Summer in Savannah wasn't forgiving, and it sure as hell
wasn't for the faint of heart. It was barely eight o'clock
in the morning and heat roiled in invisible waves off the
pavement beneath me, baking the soles of my
flip–flops and frizzing my hair, as the temperature
pushed triple digits.
The air was thick with syrupy humidity. The breeze
non–existent, the moss covered trees completely
still. I hadn't heard a bird chirp in more than twenty
minutes. I was pretty sure they were all dead—either
from the heat or the stench—I couldn't be sure.
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