Guess The “Murderer” Time! Tapping the Mystery: A [Pretend] Murder of a Billionaire with authors Max Monroe + a signed book giveaway!

UPDATE!!! The winner was Jaime, and the correct “guess the murderer” answer was (per the authors):

“The murderer was……the chef! Because (the) Dick killed him. Haha! We were obviously very technical about it!”

Tee hee!!! Thursdays are usually “Guess the Book” day (featuring reader questions about certain books they’re looking for), but today, I have an extra fun surprise. Instead of “Guess the Book” we’re gonna “guess the book-murderer”, on this post! 😀

Our MYSTERIOUS author duo, Max Monroe (<— the pen name of two popular authors that, for now, remain a mystery for us to guess)…

“—Two established romance authors join forces to bring you more books and stuff. Together.—

Two men, two women, or, perhaps, one of each. Everyone is asking—Who is Max Monroe?

Hell, we could even be Colleen Hoover.

You decide.

Disclaimer: Yeah, we’re not Colleen Hoover.”

…have sent over a fun little “murder mystery” for us to play with, featuring their now infamous characters from their Tapping the Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires Book 1) book.

How are they already infamous? Well… they hit the top 100 (I think even in the top 50!!) on the first day of release. This book was burning up the charts. And suddenly, Amazon “flagged” it as “adult content”. Eeeeeeep! Which pretty much hides the book from us romance searchers. But!! The authors want to reiterate:

“This book is not adult content, not even close. It is a funny, feel-good contemporary romance.”

We’re guessing the hand down his pants had ’em squirming. LOL! Unfortunately that put a halt to their HUGE release day momentum, but everything’s fixed, and they’re back in the game!

And now WE get to play a game! Then, out of all of the correct guesses left in the comments, I’ll randomly choose one lucky “correct” commenter to win a signed copy of this book!

Ready? Let’s play!!

Tapping the Mystery

©2016, Max Monroe

Intro

Georgia: Hi! [waves] I’m Georgia, and this is Kline.

Kline: Baby, you’re adorable, but I don’t think we need to go through introductions.

Georgia: Yes, we do. How will they know anything about us or our crazy family and friends if we don’t give them a heads-up?

Kline: I think we did a pretty damn good job telling them everything in Tapping the Billionaire.

Georgia: Yeah, but what if they haven’t read it yet?

Kline: Then we give them judgy eyes until they cave.

Georgia: Don’t be like that. It just came out on April twenty-sixth. Some people aren’t speed-readers like you.

Kline: [smirks] Okay, baby. Go ahead, give them a heads-up.

Georgia: [rolls eyes] Now I feel like you’re patronizing me.

Kline: Don’t be ridiculous. If I were going to patronize you, I’d be way more obvious about it.

Georgia: [narrows eyes]

Kline: [raises eyebrows and waits]

Georgia: Damn you and your patience.

Kline: You’ll find some eventually.

Georgia: No. I probably won’t. But whatever.  Anyway, like I was trying to say. We’re going to tell you a little story about a murder mystery-themed dinner Kline’s mom planned a few months back, and you get to guess who did it.

Kline: Perfect. Everyone’s informed. Let’s get started.

Georgia: No, not yet. We need to tell them about everyone. Oh shit, are we ruining the ending of our book by being here together?

Kline: Baby, I’m pretty sure it’s obvious. Max Monroe’s tagline, the HEA Ninjas of Romance, speaks for itself. Plus, our story has plenty of juicy details they won’t want to miss. It’s a must-read.

Georgia: I think we’re a little biased, but at least we’re not telling them who Max Monroe actually is, right? I mean, that would be bad.

Kline: [grabs glass of wine out of Georgia’s hand] You should probably slow down on those if that’s the case.

Georgia: [laughs] You’re probably right. Okay, so you’ll get to meet Kline’s parents—Bob and Maureen Brooks. Bob is pretty much like every dad in America, dad jokes included, and Maureen is literally the world’s biggest meddler.

Kline: And Georgia’s parents, Dick and Dr. Savannah Cummings, will be there.  Dick doesn’t hold back…ever. And Savannah is a sex therapist. Therefore, she has no filter and loves to give anyone and everyone advice.

Georgia: My older brother Will and best friend Cassie will be there too. Cass…Hmmmm… What is there to say about Cass?

Kline: She gives zero fucks.

Georgia: [laughs] That’s true.

Kline: You’ll meet Thatch and Wes. We’ve been friends since college.

Georgia: Kline, Thatch, and Wes are a trio of good-looking billionaires.

Kline: [groans] Let’s not go there.

Georgia: It’s disgusting really, how sexy they all are.

Kline: [cocks an eyebrow] You think Thatch and Wes are sexy?

Georgia: Not as sexy as you, baby. [cups mouth and whispers] Crazy sexy, all of them.

Kline: I can hear you.

Georgia: [smiles sweetly] I love you.

Kline: [gestures with hand] Go ahead. Keep going. But know I plan on punishing you for that comment later.

Georgia: [blushes] Stop distracting me!

Kline: [winks]

Georgia: Where was I? Oh yeah, the BAD Boy Billionaires.

Kline: [sighs]

Georgia: Thatch is your version of Cassie.

Kline: That I do agree with.  He’s a crazy motherfucker.

Georgia: Exactly. And last but not least, Dean. He’s every girl’s best friend. Flamboyantly gay and the best shopping partner you could ever find.

Kline: Don’t forget about Leslie.

Georgia: Ugh. I’d love to forget about Leslie.

Kline: [chuckles] She’s not that bad.

Georgia: Yeah, she is. These wonderful people could take one look at her Instagram and they’d agree with me.

Kline: So that’s it, right?

Georgia: Who’s impatient now?

Kline: Baby, you promised me—

Georgia: [points] Do not tell them what I promised you I’d do after we were done with this.

Kline: [holds up both hands while waggling eyebrows] I’m not saying a word.

Georgia: We can’t forget to thank Maryse for letting us do this!

Kline: You’re right. Thank you, lovely Maryse. You’re a doll for letting us hang out with you and your readers.

Georgia: Thank you, Maryse!

Tapping the Mystery: A [Pretend] Murder of a Billionaire

Kline

“I’m so excited!” Georgia squealed as I ushered her in the door of the dark, Godfatheresque restaurant named Balducci’s.

“I know, baby. The fact that we’re on time told me all I needed to know.”

Her eyes narrowed, and I lifted an eyebrow in return.

Any argument running through her head collapsed along with the petite features of her pretty face. She knew she had no shot of convincing anyone that being on time was a facet of her everyday life.

But, too excited to be disappointed for long, the wrinkle between her eyebrows eased and all traces of melancholy evaporated as if they’d never existed.

I wasn’t nearly as thrilled about the murder mystery night as she was. But it was far from the worst charity event I’d ever attended, and the hostess was Meddling-Mom-Maureen, the woman who had birthed me.

Basically, I was fucked.

The two most important women in my life wanted me here, which made it a physical impossibility to be anywhere else.

“Look,” she said, pointing into the room as we reached the end of the entry hall. “There’s Thatch and Will.” Her eyes searched the space. “I wonder where Dick is.”

“I told you if we’d stayed home like I wanted, I could have shown you several—”

“Ew,” she interrupted. “No. How many times do I have to tell you that you’re not allowed to turn any question about my father into a discussion about the rooster in your pants?”

“Cock-a-doodle-doo?” I asked through a laugh.

“Stop being cute,” she demanded adorably.

I shook my head and pulled her into my arms, nuzzling my nose into her neck strategically so I could whisper mock-seriously in her ear. “I’ve tried to stop, baby, I swear.” She started to push her way out of my arms, but they just squeezed tighter as my smile grew. “But I can’t, so you’re just going to have to stop noticing it.”

When I pulled back to look her in the eye, her face said she didn’t believe any of it.

Smart woman.

Fiery eyes and a lick of her lips told me we’d be finishing this discussion later, and I couldn’t wait to plead my case. Repeatedly.

“Hello?” Wes called, pulling my attention from Georgia to him, Thatch, and Will, all standing in a group just a few feet away.

“Hi,” Thatch added with a smirk, stretching out his hand to shake mine. “I don’t know if you remember us. We’re your best friends who’ve been standing here the whole time. Not that you noticed.”

I shook my head as Georgia looked away and blushed.

“You know, I’d be half tempted to believe you were a woman if it weren’t for that porn director mustache decaying at the top of your lip.”

He smiled and popped his brows, puffing out his chest in excitement.

“I think you mean porn star,” he corrected confidently.

“Nope,” Cassie insulted casually as she strolled by with a murder-themed cake in her arms. “Director. The stars need big dicks.”

“Oh shit,” Wes guffawed just as Georgia’s dad entered the conversation, calling out to Georgia’s mom, Dr. Savannah Cummings, over his shoulder.

“I could have been in lights, Vanna!”

He turned to us and explained. “My nickname in high school was Big Dick.”

“Dad!” Georgia protested, and Will muttered, “Fucking hell,” under his breath.

The rest of us, who didn’t share DNA with the man, just laughed.

Georgia’s mom arrived at the group just in time to make things even more awkward. “I don’t know what you’re so upset about, Georgie. You told everyone at your wedding what a big dick your husband has.”

I choked on saliva and Wes spewed some of his drink. Cassie’s timing was once again impeccable as she strolled by on the way back and yelled out, “Big-dicked Brooks!”

“Make use of it,” Savannah went on. “It’s important for your sexual health.”

“It is,” I agreed, accepting a drink from my father, Bob, as he stepped up beside me.

Georgie looked at me like she might kill me.

“What is?” Bob asked in an effort to join in.

“Important,” I muttered vaguely while under the scrutiny of my bride’s eyes. I was smart enough to know I’d be the one in the casket at the end of the night if I didn’t stop this wildfire from spreading right now. Her parents were one thing, but her father-in-law was a different animal entirely.

The set of my dad’s eyes narrowed slightly with confusion, but I could tell he planned to let it go.

Cassie, a drink now in hand, didn’t feel nearly the same acceptance. “They were talking about your son’s big dick, Bob, and the importance of Georgia using it vigorously and often.”

“Cass!” Georgia shrieked. Thatch pounded a choking Will on the back, and Wes had to turn around to keep from spitting beer all over everyone. Savannah smiled proudly, and Dick just scowled. I shrugged helplessly, but I did it through shaking shoulders.

“Well,” my dad muttered cautiously, slapping me on the back a couple of times. “That’s my boy.”

“How are you hearing everything, anyway?” Georgie asked Cassie, throwing her hands around in a violent bout of gesturing.

Cassie waved it off. “Everyone can. You’re all talking pretty loud.”

We all turned at once, the sound of Maureen’s voice carrying over the soft music. “Exactly. Kline, I’m glad you’ve grown up. I remember your little tiny weeny like it was yesterday—”

“Seriously?” I asked, looking up at the ceiling. Thatch’s boisterous laughter filtered out nearly everyone else’s.

“But we need to get started. We’re only missing two people, and I want to start handing out assignments.”

“Assignments?” my dad asked, pulling out a chair at a nearby table and taking a load off.

“Yes, Bob,” my mom chastised. “Assignments. I explained this to you on the drive over. Weren’t you listening?”

“You talked about a lot, Maur,” my dad evaded. “You always say a lot.”

Oh, shit.

The rest of us tried to hide our smiles.

My mom’s eyes were tinged with a touch of evil, and I had a feeling hell was about to rain down on the man who’d made me. “What am I saying now?”

“I’m here,” my dad declared, twenty-years-too-deep into marriage to be afraid of anything my mom threatened. “That’s enough.”

But Maureen wouldn’t be deterred. “Pick a part, Bob.”

“Fine! I’ll be the dead guy.”

“You’re the detective,” Maureen asserted.

“But that’s the most work!”

“Exactly,” she agreed, handing him a notebook with all of his clues and questions. “If you really want to play a dead guy, keep this up and you can play one tonight.”

Dick started to laugh, something we were all trying desperately not to do, but he would live to regret it. Maureen was on a roll-assigning tear.

“You’re the chef, Dick.”

“What?” he asked, his laughter ending abruptly.

“You’re the chef, dear,” Savannah pointed out helpfully, hiding her smirking lips behind a glass of champagne.

“I hope he’s got sausage,” Cass put in, much to Georgia’s dismay.

Dick heard her, but he didn’t quite understand. “What, am I supposed to bring the fucking grill? I thought this thing had dinner.”

Thatch looked to the ceiling, but I could have sworn I saw a tear run down his cheek with the effort to hold back his laughter.

“I put pants on for this?” Dick asked Savannah, aggrieved.

“Hi, everyone!” a high-pitched voice called from the door. Leslie stood provocatively, her knee cocked and toe on point, and an obscene amount of cleavage swelled well above the neckline of her dress. Her maid uniform dress.

“Sweet Jesus,” Thatch remarked, and Will jumped straight into motion, headed in her direction.

“Of course, your mom invited the she-devil,” Georgia complained.

I bit my lip to stop from laughing. “She’s a friend of the family.”

“Oh, I know,” Georgia bitched. “That excuse is really starting to dry up, though.”

“Lubrication is important!” Savannah stage-whispered.

“For fuck’s sake!” Georgie shouted. “Are no conversations private anymore?”

I pulled her into my arms and kissed the corner of her mouth.

“Oh shit,” Dick muttered. “Look out, world. My Georgie’s busting out the fucks.”

“Excuse me,” Will said, shoving through us on his way to a selfie-taking Leslie. She’d propped herself in the door with no regard for the rest of the room’s activities.

“Don’t even think about it,” angry Georgia warned, the vision of a fate of having Leslie as a sister-in-law too much to bear.

“What?” Will asked innocently, his face anything but. His mouth said nothing, but his eyes said motorboat.

“Will,” my mom called as he cleared the crowd, “You’re the butler.”

“Great,” he cooed, laying it on thick to try to impress Leslie.

“The butler and the maid. Seems like a match made in heaven,” he told Leslie directly.

“What?” she asked. “How do you know I’m the maid? I didn’t hear her call my name.”

“Well,” he said, slightly confused, “I just assumed.”

Her tone was serious. “Why?”

I smirked as he turned to head back in our direction.

Georgia laughed as he passed, and all he had to say was, “Nevermind.”

Maureen soldiered on, listing out assignments quickly. “Kline and Georgia, you’re Mr. and Mrs. Arranged, the victim, Rich Snob’s, daughter and son-in-law. I’m his widow, Mrs. Snob, and Thatch, dear, you’re his accountant.”

“Always the moneyman,” Wes remarked.

“You know it,” Thatch gloated.

“Wes, honey, you’re the lawyer. Leslie, you are indeed the maid, and Savannah, you are, very fittingly, the psychologist.”

“When Dean gets here,” she went on, scrolling a finger down her list, “he’ll be the pool boy.”

“I’m here!” Dean called, rushing in the door and bowling over Leslie in the process.

She squealed and squeaked, damn near revealing a nipple in the process, but he never slowed down.

“Okay, everyone,” Maureen directed. “Pick up your notebooks, learn your parts, and let’s get started!”

 

Georgia

My eyes scanned the opened notebook in my hands.  Jesus. My mother-in-law was a bit of a nutjob. An outsider would’ve thought we were preparing to make an actual movie, not act out a “mystery dinner.”

“Did your mom write these fucking scripts?” I whispered to Kline, who was pretending to read through his notebook, but in reality, he had his phone sitting between the pages, fingers busy scrolling through emails.

He didn’t respond, too enthralled with what he was reading.

Well, I’ve had about enough of that.

Before he could stop me, I stole his phone and placed it snugly between my cleavage.

Within seconds, Kline’s eyes morphed from the initial irritation to intrigued lust once he caught site of his phone’s new location.

“Oh, hello. I’m your wife,” I said, sarcastic tone joining the purposeful shimmy of my chest. “Do you remember me?”

He smirked, eyes moving to meet my gaze. “You trying to distract me, baby?”

A stubborn hand went to my hip. “I’m trying to have a conversation with you, but you’re too busy doing work shit.”

“You know,” he said, hand touching his chin thoughtfully. “I do remember a time when a certain little business shark was actually one of my employees. A time when she probably would’ve been just as interested as I am in this contract that just came through.”

I tilted my head. “What contract?”

“Nice try, sweetheart. You know I’m not allowed to say.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m your wife.”

“That’s right,” he whispered, hands gripping my hips and pulling my body tight to his chest. His eyes pierced mine, exuding too much sexual heat for a dinner party that included both of our sets of parents. Those blue eyes of his would eventually be the death of me. I was convinced of it.

“My wife,” he growled, nuzzling my neck. “My sexy, beautiful, perfect wife.”

If there was one way to get Kline to go all caveman, it was to remind him that we were married. That I was, in fact, his, and he was mine. I learned that little trick on our honeymoon, and I had been using it damn near daily ever since.

His hands slipped down my waist, wrapping around my lower back until they cupped my ass through the material of my simple, black cocktail dress. “God, this ass,” he murmured. “I’m pretty sure it was specially made for my hands.”

A moan slipped past my lips before I could stop it. Paranoid that we were putting on a show in front of my in-laws, I glanced around the room, noting our discreet location in the corner. Everyone else in our party was busy learning their “scripts” or chatting with one another.

He leaned back, staring down at me with a seductive smirk. “Don’t worry, baby. I won’t let this get out of hand.”

That spurred a laugh from my lips. “I’ve heard those words before, Mr. Brooks.”

“Mrs. Brooks.” He rested his hands against the wall, his body caging me in. He leaned in closer, his lips a mere whisper from mine. “I think you should go to the bathroom, take off those lace panties, and then come back to me.”

I cocked an eyebrow.

“That way, during dinner, while everyone is chatting about nonsense, I can focus on sliding my hand up your thigh and slipping my fingers inside your pussy.”

“And me? What will I be concentrating on?”

“I’ve got a hunch you won’t be able to focus on anything.”

Hello, God? It’s me, Georgia. Please don’t get upset if I have sex with my husband during a family dinner party.

His mouth brushed mine, his tongue licking across my bottom lip.

“Holy hell.” My mouth dropped open as my body sagged against the wall. “What are you trying to do to me?”

He grinned, pressing a soft kiss to my lips and stepping back. “You looked a little worked up. I was trying to get you to relax and stop thinking about our crazy families.”

“You’re evil.” I glared at him, trying like hell not to smile and also, not to be so turned on. Because, yeah, I was definitely turned on.

“No, baby. I’m Big-dicked Brooks, remember?”

“Shut up,” I laughed, slapping his chest playfully.

“Can I have my phone back now?”

I removed it from my cleavage and handed it back, knowing full well if I did not disengage from my husband, I’d end up mounting him in the middle of this dinner party and humping him until everyone cleared the room. He was potent. Too damn sexy for my own good.

He winked. “Thanks.”

I moved to the other side of the room, finding Cassie drinking wine and watching Leslie take duck-face and cleavage selfies by the fireplace.

“Hashtag, killin’ it,” I whispered.

Cassie grinned. “Hashtag, my fake tits did it.”

I snorted. “Where’s your notebook?”

She shrugged, avoiding my eyes.

I scrutinized her face. “What part are you?”

She mumbled something into her wineglass.

That little bitch. She didn’t have a notebook because Maureen forgot to give her a part. “Maur—” I started to shout, but Cassie’s hand was clamped tightly over my mouth before I could finish.

“Don’t you dare,” she whispered. “I agreed to this circus because I’m a good friend, but I’ll be damned if I let you screw this perfect situation up for me. “

“Ruin what for you?” Thatch asked, moving toward us and eyeing Cass with curiosity.

She flashed me a quick glare and then smiled far too sweetly at him.

He cocked his head to the side as his curiosity grew. “Where’s your notebook?”

“In my puss-ay,” she retorted.

“Jesus,” I mumbled. I often wondered how I associated with this group of crazies.

“Interesting placement.” The corners of his lips climbed into a huge grin. “What else you got in there?” His gaze honed in on the juncture below her waist. “Need some help locating it? I’m a world-renowned deep-sea diver.”

Cass smirked. “World-renowned, you say?”

“Uh-huh,” he agreed, winking.

“Send me a recent blood test and we’ll talk.”

He laughed at that. “Blood test? Is that how shit works with you?”

“Pretty much.” She shrugged. “I’m all about you playing in my sandbox, but crabs aren’t welcome.”

“No sea creatures to speak of on or around the trunk of my tree. And I don’t just play, honey.” He leaned closer to her, whispering something discreetly into her ear.

I watched her facial expression change from teasing to full-on interested in a matter of seconds.

I let them eye-fuck one another for a good fifteen seconds, before calling toward Kline’s mom. “You forgot to give Cass a part! She feels left out.”

“Oh, dear!” Maureen responded, visibly upset by her faux pas.

Of course, she amended it quickly, rushing over toward Cassie and handing her a notebook. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You’re the personal assistant.”

“Fantastic,” Thatch agreed. “And you don’t even need a briefcase to carry shit around.”

Cassie held the notebook in her hands, mouthing fuck you in both Thatch’s and my direction.

****

“Let’s get started!” Maureen clapped her hands together excitedly. “Now, remember, everyone has a shot at Mr. Rich Snob’s estate. Your job is to piece together his death, but use caution in considering your involvement in this gathering. As likely as you are to walk away with an inheritance, you are just as likely to not walk out at all.”

“If I don’t walk out of this room with a belly full of beer and dinner, no one is walking out of here,” Dick muttered.

“Richard,” my mother tsked. “This is supposed to be fun. Try to loosen up a bit.”

“I’ll show you loosening up, Vanna,” he responded. “Once I get your sexy ass home—”

“Dad!” I interrupted before he could continue. No one wanted to think about Dick doing the nasty.

“Maur, do we really need a goddamn fog machine on?” Kline’s dad chimed in, wafting the misty air away from his face.

She pursed her lips. “It’s about ambiance, Bob. Stop being so surly and start asking questions. That’s what the detective is supposed to do.”

He sighed, plopping down in an oversized leather chair. “Pool boy!” he shouted toward Dean. “Come over here.”

Dean looked confused but strode over toward Bob on his patent leather Gucci loafers.

“I’ll take a beer,” Bob ordered.

Dean sighed, looking annoyed. “Bob, I’m not an actual pool boy who’s here to fetch you drinks. And seriously? Beer?” He held up a well-manicured hand. “There will be no beer getting anywhere near this Armani five-piece suit.”

Bob stared back at Dean, looking all kinds of confused.

Maureen sighed again. “Honey, you’re supposed to ask him questions about the murder. That’s how the game is played.”

“Did you kill him?” he asked, voice monotone.

“Bob!” Maureen stomped her foot. “That’s not in the script!”

My father plopped down in the chair beside Bob. “Fuck, I’m hoping dinner is in the script soon.”

“I’d cheers on that one, but the pool boy refuses to get drinks,” Bob added.

A few chuckles beside me caught my attention. Thatch, Wes, and Will were all staring down at something on Kline’s phone. I glanced over their shoulders, finding a video of Walter, our cat, knocking all of Kline’s stuff off the bathroom counter, leaving all of my stuff still in place.

“Told you that cat hates me,” Kline said. “He never screws with Georgia’s shit. Only mine.”

“Dude, I’d sleep with one eye open,” Thatch added. “Walter is a dick.”

“You think Georgia will notice if he disappears?” Wes asked.

“I’ll help get him out of your house,” Will offered. “That little fucker scratches the shit out of me whenever I stop by.”

In a sense, they were right. Walter was a bit of dick, but he was my buddy. No way in hell would I let them get rid of him.

I typed a quick text to my husband, knowing all four guys would see it flash across his phone.

Me: If you get rid of my cat, I will personally ruin something important for every one of you assholes.

Me: And guys, I’d be careful, I know shit. A lot of shit…

I heard their conversation stop abruptly and then hushed whispers. A text message came soon after.

Kline: What do you know? -Wes

Of course. He was the least likely to take me at my word.

Me: Two Fridays ago when you guys crashed at our house after pounding drinks at the bar…

“I knew we should have gone back to my place!” Thatch groaned. “Your man cave sucks donkey dick, K.”

A spoon chiming against a glass grabbed everyone’s attention.

“No one is eating until we follow the script and figure out who killed Mr. Rich Snob,” Maureen declared in an effort to pull us all back on track.

Bob groaned and glanced down at his notebook. “Dean, were you having an affair with Mr. Rich Snob’s wife?” he questioned, voice sounding more disinterested with each word.

“I would’ve been more likely to fuck the dead guy,” Dean responded.

Leslie stared at him. “I don’t get it.”

“Dean,” Maureen said on a sigh. “You have to answer the detective’s question.”

“No, Detective, I was not. I was actually having an affair with Mr. Rich Snob!” Dean waved his hands dramatically in the air, before covering his face and sobbing.

“Dude, you just went off script,” Thatch said, laughing.

“Fuck this script. Not all pool boys like pussy, Thatcher.”

That only made Thatch laugh harder.

“Pool boys like cats?” Leslie asked.

“Christ,” Cass muttered. “No, Leslie. Pool boys like laying pipe. Well, all pool boys except for Dean. He enjoys sucking pipe.”

Dean high-fived Cass while Leslie watched on with utter confusion.

“Detective, ask more questions,” Maureen said, voice irritated.

He sighed but followed her orders and read straight from his notebook. “Ask the psychologist if she prescribed anything for Mr. Rich Snob.”

“Bob!” Maureen stomped her foot again.

He didn’t respond, just staring at my mother, the psychologist, for a response.

She slid her glasses to the bridge of her nose, fully invested in her part. “I only prescribed him Viagra. He had a long history of impotence.”

“Sounds like the pool boy wasn’t all that skilled in the sucking,” Wes muttered loud enough for Dean to hear.

“I’ll have you know, Rich Snob was a very satisfied man before he died,” Dean said, affronted.

“Well, that’s settled!” Dick clapped his hands. “Dean fucked him to death. Let’s eat!”

Thatch, Kline, Wes, and Will burst into laughter, and it took all of my strength to keep a straight face. Maureen’s glare was the only thing keeping me from losing it.

“That’s not who did it!” Maureen shouted and glared at Bob. “More questions, Detective.”

“Ask the accountant why he opened a new investment portfolio for Mr. Rich Snob three days before he died,” Bob read from his notebook.

“That’s easy.” Thatch grinned. “His personal assistant didn’t have any room inside her pussy.”

Will choked on his beer.

Cassie flipped him off but was laughing nonetheless.

Everyone but Kline and Wes looked confused. They both knew Thatch and Cass well enough to deduce the pervy details.

“Bob,” Maureen said his name through gritted teeth.

He knew the drill by this point. “Ask his daughter and son-in-law why they borrowed one million dollars one week before Mr. Rich Snob died.”

“Because his son-in-law is a cheap bastard!” Wes shouted, grinning.

“I heard his son-in-law still shops at Target even though he’s got a cool three billion in the bank,” Thatch teased.

Kline just laughed, taking it all in stride.

I wouldn’t say my husband was a cheap bastard, but he definitely still shopped at Target and was probably the most practical person I’d ever met. It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with him.

I glanced at my notebook, figuring it might prevent my mother-in-law from having a coronary if I actually went with the script. “We borrowed one million because we needed a down payment for our new home. But we had a payment schedule in place to pay him back, and had already paid our first installment.”

Maureen smiled in my direction, visibly happy that I was going along with her script.

“Thanks, baby,” Kline whispered as he wrapped his arm around my waist and kissed my forehead.

“You owe me,” I whispered back.

He grinned. “Name the price.”

“Take payment in Banging Bucks!” Cassie called toward us.

I buried my face in my husband’s chest and flipped my best friend off behind my back.

“Detective, I think you need to ask a few more people questions,” Maureen encouraged, her feathers not nearly as ruffled as they were before.

“As the detective, you have a hunch that the maid and butler killed Mr. Rich Snob,” Bob read aloud.

“You’re not supposed to say that part, Bob!” Maureen yelled, feathers ruffled all over again.

My father-in-law just shrugged in response.

“I think the accountant did it,” Cass stated.

“Does your notebook actually say that?” Thatch questioned with amused eyes.

“None of your business, Thatch.”

“Let me see your notebook,” he said, waggling his eyebrows and reaching for her. “Don’t worry, I think I can find it myself.”

She laughed, batting his hands away from her waist. “Fuck off, Jolly Green Giant.”

“Perfect fucking nickname for the ogre,” Wes agreed through a laugh.

“As the butler, you have a hunch that the chef did it,” Will read from his notebook.

“Dick killed a guy,” Dean said, expression deadpan.

“Pretty impressive,” Cass announced. “That’s only the second time I’ve seen that.”

My dad grinned like the Cheshire Cat. “I’ve been known to give Savannah a good hard—”

“Jesus,” my brother and I muttered at the same time.

“Who really did it?” my mother asked, glancing around the room.

“It wasn’t me.” Dean shrugged. “I liked blowing him too much.”

My mother smiled at him. “I bet you keep your boyfriends very satisfied, sweetheart. It warms my heart to hear that.”

“Thanks, Dr. Cummings.”

“We’ll have to share tips later,” she said with a wink.

My brother sighed. “Please make sure I’m eleven hundred miles away when that conversation takes place.”

“William,” our mother said, her voice chastising. “I did not raise you that way. It’s times like these you need to remember who sat you down and really talked to you about how to go down on a girl.”

Laughter spilled from my lips.

“Two words.” Will glared at me. “Masturbation Camp.”

My giggles stopped abruptly. Yeah, that was about the most traumatizing story of my life that I did not need rehashed.

“If I did it,” Cassie started, “I probably would’ve laced his coffee with Percocet, and when he was good and unconscious, I would’ve put a bag over his head and suffocated him. And then, I would’ve borrowed his boat and dropped his body in the Hudson.”

Thatch pointed toward her. “You scare the fuck out of me, but hell if it doesn’t turn me on.”

“Put your boner away, Thatcher,” she retorted. “I still need that blood test.”

My father stood up from his chair. “If I did it, I would’ve poisoned his food. Speaking of food, is it time to eat yet?”

Maureen clapped her hands, bouncing on her toes. “Okay, so now we’ve got our suspects, Detective. His personal assistant. His chef. The maid and butler. And his accountant. Who do you think did it?”

“How about this, Maur? While we eat, the readers can decide?”

Everyone nodded their heads in approval of Bob’s plan.

“Okay,” she agreed. “Let them decide.”

Thank God.

 

Lovely readers, you decide who it was…

The chef

His personal assistant

The maid and butler

His accountant

Now for the giveaway!!

How to enter for a chance to win the signed copy of this book? Just leave your guess in the comments below, and by 10pm EST, Sunday May 1st 2016, I will randomly select one correct-guesser as the winner for the signed copy of “Tapping the Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires Book 1)”!

The winner will be contacted and will have 48hrs to respond with a mailing address, so if you are picked, do not delay or you will lose your chance. This book will be sent to the winner directly by the author.

OPEN TO U.S. AND CANADA