Six Brews Under- Exclusive Excerpt
After a few glasses of champagne—for me, not for Joe, because vampire—we took a short stroll on the beach before freshening up for dinner. Upon Stella’s annoying insistence, I wore a body-hugging silk dress in an emerald green and pinned my hair halfway up with a few vintage diamond barrettes I stole from Gran’s jewelry box. Slipping into leather sandals, I carefully made my way down the extremely steep stairs that led from the upstairs bedroom to the main living area. My fingers white-knuckled the railing the whole way down.
What monster designed these?
“That is quite the dress,” Joe said from the bottom of the torture staircase.
My cheeks burned with the temperature of the Earth’s core. “Thanks. Stella picked it out.”
I instantly regretted mentioning the ghost because she appeared out of nowhere with a satisfied look on her cocky face. Stella’s abrupt manifestation made me miss the last step. I yelped, sliding down awkwardly and smashing headfirst into Joe’s chest. Grumbling, I straightened out and brushed back my loose curls. “Oops,” I mumbled.
Lucky for me, Joe was used to my clumsy ways and only grinned before offering his arm for support.
“How far is the restaurant?” I asked.
“That’s the best part,” Joe replied. “It’s a five-minute walk down the beach. Ready to go?”
We slipped out of the sliding doors leading to the beach and took to the sand. The heat of the day was beginning to subside, and I inhaled deeply, relishing in the early evening. To our right, the sound of water lapping the shore offered a comfortable beat to walk to, each swoosh making my feet hop a little. A few seagulls gathered on the shore, picking away at something they’d found in the sand. I rolled my eyes over the beach and the few palm trees lining our path, my heart warming.
My head turned as we passed the villa beside us, the one Joe said had the same owner. It was almost identical to the house we stayed in. I wondered if the two were built at the same time. From this vantage point, I could glimpse directly into the living room. I gulped when I noticed a couple sitting on the beige sofa inside. They were both on their phones and paid no attention to us, so I felt a little better about my spying ways.
It appeared the couple was much more interested in whatever was on their phones than the stunning view right outside their villa. The woman flipped her long brown hair over a bare shoulder, readjusting the straps of her blouse, which had a plunging neckline. Her beige trousers camouflaged into the sofa fabric and drew my attention back to her deeply tanned face. I frowned at her uninterested expression.
Beside her, the man was not much more animated. He scrolled through his phone, pinching the screen and tipping his head back every now and again. Unlike the woman, he was dressed in a stuffy cream suit that looked like it could boil someone alive in this island heat.
The man looked up and his blue eyes caught mine. I averted my gaze instantly, suddenly finding the seagulls that much more intriguing. My eyes stayed glued on the birds until Joe interrupted my thoughts.
“Here we are.”
I stopped short at Joe’s voice. I was so preoccupied with the couple next door, I completely got lost in thought. When I looked up, my eyes flicked to a row of lit torches lining a cozy walkway to a patio straight out of a fairytale.
Nestled at the water’s edge, Beggars Dock emerged as a picturesque seafood haven. The gentle rhythm of waves caressed the weathered wooden deck, where a handful of round tables stood adorned with crisp white tablecloths and vibrant vases of tropical blooms. Stepping inside, we were greeted by a spectacle: a circular bar, aglow with the flicker of countless tea lights, stood as the centerpiece. Its shelves groaned under the weight of innumerable bottles of liquor, a testament to the bar’s extravagance. Behind the bar, a sprawling aquarium teemed with life, its azure depths alive with a kaleidoscope of colorful fish. From beneath a meticulously crafted pirate ship sculpture, a sinuous eel slithered forth. This place was nothing short of amazing.
“Welcome to the Beggars Dock,” announced an elderly figure, his attire evoking the spirit of a seasoned pirate. Intrigued, I wondered whether a theatrical performance awaited later in the evening.
Sensing my curiosity, the host offered a mischievous grin. “Here, at Beggars Dock, everyone becomes a pirate,” he declared, brandishing two eye patches. “Even our esteemed guests.”
With a chuckle, we picked up our costumes and followed the host to a table closest to the water. There was a bottle of white wine already chilling on the table when we sat down.
I arched a brow. “Did you call ahead?”
“Guilty as charged,” Joe said. “I read online that the lobster is the best on the island.”
“Should I order it so you can live vicariously through me?” I teased. “I can get extra butter sauce for effect.”
Joe pressed a hand to his chest, pretending to be wounded. It made his tight short-sleeve button up even tighter and I tried to breathe through the pressure building in my gut. “You are an evil sorceress,” Joe joked.
“Witch. Not sorceress.”
Laughing, Joe perused the menu then looked around. “Weird question, but are we alone?”
“Are you talking about Stella?” I asked. “She’s not here. Turns out even Stella Rutherford has boundaries. Who knew?”
Before I could say anything else, Joe leaned over the table and his lips met mine. A dull yearning built up in my chest and my breath caught, savoring the moment. I closed more of the distance between us. No matter how often it happened, I would never get used to being kissed by Joe Brooks. The man was addictive.
When Joe pulled away, I was breathless and red as a bushel of beets. It wasn’t long before our server arrived and we ordered our meals; me, the lobster, and Joe, the steak—for show. The night moved along flawlessly and I had to admit, I didn’t think of Mom or Hades or the Sisters of the River once. All I wanted was to keep talking to Joe in this sliver of paradise we found ourselves in.
If I didn’t know magic existed, tonight would certainly be proof of it.
“When is it going to be enough?”
The sharpness of the voice tore my attention from Joe to a few tables down from ours. In the middle of the dinner rush, a couple appeared to be having a very heated argument. Their arms flailed as they raised their voices louder and I caught a few choice words being exchanged. I narrowed my eyes, leaning over Joe to see clearer.
My heart sank to my sandals.
It was the couple I saw on our walk over here. Our neighbors.
I watched in stupefied horror as the woman picked up her glass of wine and tossed it in the man’s face. Across from me, Joe’s jaw slacked, and he worked it hard, trying to think of something to say. But there were no words for what we were witnessing.
Head shaking, the man wiped his face with a napkin and stood up abruptly. The chair fell backward as he rose and the wood slammed into the patio with a loud bang. Everyone stared.
Not bothering to wait for his date, the man tossed a wad of cash on the table and stormed out of the restaurant, his back rigid as he made his way down the beach toward the villas. I wanted to walk over and ask the woman if she was all right but something held me back.
Don’t get involved. Leave it alone.
Listening to my inner logic for once, I pressed myself into the chair I sat in and didn’t move a muscle. A few minutes later, the woman got up and left. The entire scene put me on edge and I found myself reaching for my glass of wine eagerly.
“Well, that was strange,” Joe said.
I nodded. “Very. They live next to us, you know. I saw them on the way here.”
“Huh,” Joe mused. “Quite the first night out, I’d say.”
I couldn’t agree more. Despite the sour turn of the evening, I forced myself to forget about what happened and concentrated on Joe. After all, we were here to escape the drama of Orchard Hollow and my messed up life, not dredge more trouble into it. Whatever our neighbors were arguing over, it was none of my business. This week was for me and Joe, and I guessed, Stella.
It was not for spying on neighbors and public fights that left a pit at the base of my stomach.
Copyrighted by A.N. Sage, Oliver Heber Books, 2024. Shared with permission from the publisher.
Orchard Hollow #5
Piper Addison is on the vacation of her dreams… or nightmares.
Vacation mode has been activated in Orchard Hollow. When Piper’s vampire boyfriend suggests a beach getaway, she jumps at the chance. A week on a secluded island with nothing to do but sunbathing and romance? Who can say no to that?
But what’s a holiday without a dash of the unexpected? A relaxing beach stroll takes a sinister turn when Piper stumbles upon a body in the sand! Turns out, Serenity Bay isn't just known for its killer tan lines. With a mystery afoot, Piper's instincts kick in, and she's ready to trade her umbrella drinks for a spine-chilling investigation.
Between dodging the local police, avoiding her dearly departed ghost familiar, and trying to turn the trip around, Piper has her work cut out for her.
The sand in the hourglass is falling as our witch who can’t witch races to solve the crime before her return flight home. With the killer on her heels, Piper better be careful or she might stay on the island longer than anticipated. Perhaps even for all of eternity…
Six Brews Under is a paranormal cozy mystery complete with an unlucky witch, a ghost familiar, and a feisty raccoon with a talent for getting into sticky situations.
Romance | Mystery Cozy | Mystery Amateur Sleuth [Oliver-Heber Books, On Sale: June 18, 2024, e-Book, / ]
A.N. Sage is a bestselling, award-winning author of mystery and fantasy novels. She has spent most of her life waiting to meet a witch, vampire, or at least get haunted by a ghost. In between failed seances and many questionable outfit choices, she has developed a keen eye for the extra-ordinary.
A.N. spends her free time reading and binge-watching television shows in her pajamas. Currently, she resides in Toronto, Canada with her husband who is not a creature of the night and their daughter who just might be.
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