By Cleo Coyle

Whilst an previous good friend of her ex-husband develops the world's first botanically decaffeinated espresso bean and smuggles it into the rustic, Clare Cosi, supervisor of Village mixture, believes it is a company chance she must least until eventually the 1st useless physique exhibits up.

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Additional resources for Decaffeinated Corpse (Coffeehouse Mysteries, No. 5)

Sample text

Damn those blue eyes. ” I looked away, noticed Joy’s pot of decaf, and moved to pour myself a cup. “You know . ” I froze, midpour. When Mike had come in earlier, he’d sat down at the coffee bar and made small talk with Tucker. Until now, I hadn’t considered what they’d been talking about. Obvi­ ously, Matt hadn’t either or he never would have made a deal with me. 48 C l e o Coy l e I threw out the cup of decaf. For this, I’d need caffeine. I dosed grounds into a portafilter, tamped, clamped, and pulled two shots.

I winced. “Sorry . ” he whispered. “Damn that ex-husband of yours. ” Mike appeared to continue examining the bruise, but the affectionate way he kept stroking my hair was starting to scramble my brains. He just wouldn’t stop touching me, and for a moment I lost my voice along with my train of thought. “It’s okay,” I finally managed. “Ric was the one who needed the ER. He was pistol-whipped pretty badly. ” Mike’s hand released my chestnut bangs, but he didn’t pull away. Slowly, gently, he began to curl locks of hair around my ear.

We’re friends,” I whispered. ” The lanky cop strode to the coffee bar, where he took a load off. Tucker began to make conversation with the detec­ tive, but he didn’t bother filling his order. By now, all of my baristas knew the drill. When Mike Quinn came here for his usual, he had no interest in anyone making it but me. “Do me a favor, Clare,” Matt said. ” Given my ex-husband’s years of dealing with corrupt officials in banana republics, I understood why he dis­ trusted the police. It occurred to me that Ric might feel the same.

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