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Write On The Water Books

A Wes Darling Sailing Mystery/Thriller - Book 3

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Murder in the Bahamas. When Wes Darling and his friend Elvis, the phobic psychic, take a trip to the Bahamas, they find themselves drawn into a fast-paced mystery filled with treasure and danger. You’re sure to enjoy the array of quirky characters and constant mayhem you’ll meet in this riveting tale of adventure. This EBOOK will be delivered instantly by a BookFunnel email.

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READ A SAMPLE:

I've lived on my boat for so long that it only took me half a minute after being thrown onto the floor to realize where I was. It was the how and when of my waking up on Rough Draft that I was having trouble with.

The fading buzz of a powerboat suggested that some inconsiderate bastard speeding through the anchorage had thrown a wake, shaking me from a sound sleep and rolling me off the settee.

I fought to keep my eyes focused, scanned the cabin, and groaned. It looked like a Tasmanian Devil had spent the night making love to just about everything I owned. I'd landed on a small mountain of clothing that shouldn't have been lying in the middle of the boat. Something dug into my back and when I thrust my hand under the pile it came out with a can of baked beans. I tossed it onto the port settee and studied the mess surrounding me.

It wasn't a pretty sight. All of my clothes had been dragged from the cupboard where I kept them and tossed onto the cabin sole. Dishes, cookware, and cans and packages of food were scattered everywhere. Fortunately, plastic dishes and stainless-steel cookware are pretty much indestructible.

It didn't take a genius to realize that the passing motorboat hadn't raised enough of a wake to cause this damage. Someone had methodically searched my boat while I was passed out on the settee.

A wave of nausea rippled through my gut as I picked myself up off the floor and my head began to spin. I felt sick and drained and had absolutely no idea what had happened to me or my boat.

As I began to massage my temples, vague snowy images of a blond girl in the world's tiniest bikini flickered through my mind. Flashes of a wicked smile, sensual lips, and pale eyes that made me feel naked and vulnerable overwhelmed me. Finally, sluggish memories began to filter through my subconscious as her image took shape.

I remembered our meeting the previous afternoon at the annual Stranded Naked Cheeseburger Beach Party held at Fiddle Cay in the Bahamas. The problem was, I had much clearer memories of the days leading up to the party than I had of the party and the hours since then. The one consistent thought I had was, "Damn you Gil and Lynn."

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