A Spicy Cozy Mystery Set in Las Vegas

 

Viva Las Vegas

I wrote a spicy cozy mystery entitled “The Salacious Scribes Mystery” that takes place in Las Vegas and is about a group of erotic romance writers who go to the Adult Entertainment Expo and while there, their promoter is murdered.

For research purposes while writing this book, I decided to go to Las Vegas and play tourist in the city in order to get some inspiration for some of the scenes of my story. I planned to stay with my husband at the Bellagio and hoped we would get of view of the famous water show for which that the hotel is known. We were very lucky to score a 14^th floor view of the fountains with Las Vegas’s version of the Eiffel Tower in the background.

While there, I played the slot machines for the first time. It was fun; I lost; will never do it again; but it was a once in a life time experience.

From there, I was seriously inspired to get to know the history of Las Vegas so my husband and I booked a night-time tour of the Neon Museum where we could see the old neon signs of the retro Las Vegas hotels that existed before they were blown up in order to make way for newer and snazzier hotels. There is such a beauty in well crafted neon and this museum lived up to its reputation.

After that, we visited the Mob Museum. I wrote an entire chapter in my book that described this very interesting museum. Here’s an excerpt:

“My husband and I both enjoyed the HBO series, The Sopranos, and the organized-crime movies by Martin Scorsese and Francis Ford Coppola.  So, we headed out in the blazing Vegas sun to go see the museum. After a short drive, we found it and parked.  The museum was a three-storied brick building.

Once inside, we traveled back to the infamous days of crime in Las Vegas and throughout the United States, starting from the 20s when prohibition had allowed opportunists, such as Al Capone, to make their fortunes satisfying the thirst of Americans who craved alcohol.

The first room we visited showed a simulated police lineup where visitors could pose, holding up signs that looked like license plates with unique numbers.  Some teenagers posed in front of a back wall that showed a height chart. They had their picture taken by a professional cameraman supplied by the museum and had a hard time keeping a straight face because they kept giggling.

Next, we saw the blood-stained wall where the Saint Valentine's Day Massacre occurred in Chicago. Circles surrounded the bloody holes where Al Capone and his gang had mown down their rivals. My husband sat in a real electric chair and I took a picture, capturing the moment.

The teenagers caught up with us and one of them sat in the electric chair.  His friend pulled down a nearby lever and, as he did so, his buddy on the electric chair twitched as if he were being electrocuted. It was cute to watch them having such a good time, especially at a museum.

Next, my husband and I walked into a room wallpapered with dollars.  We read a sign that told us about the “skim” at the Stardust. It explained how profits were under-counted and under-reported to the IRS by the crime bosses. The owner at the Stardust, Frank "Lefty" Rosenthal, arranged for a bit of those profits to be skimmed off periodically and sent back to the mob bosses on the east coast. It was the basis for the movie Casino.  I remembered watching how great Robert di Nero and Sharon Stone were in the movie and it got me thinking about the naked lady that Bluebeard was with on the night he was killed.  What if she, like the Sharon Stone character, was in-deep with organized crime?  Maybe she helped Bluebeard make his drug deals? Maybe they did even worse crimes together? Child porno, perhaps? Human trafficking? What if they were stealing authors’ stories and publishing them under another name?  It certainly was a lot to consider.

My husband interrupted my revelry by saying, “Come on, honey.  Let’s see the rest of the museum.  You seem glued to this exhibit.”

“Sorry, hon.  I was just thinking about Bluebeard.”

“Forget about him.  You’re with me now.  We don’t have much time left before you have to drive me to the airport.”

I put his hand in mine and said, “I’m sorry, honey. You’re right. Let’s go see the next one.”

He smiled and we went together to see the next room.  Right next to the skim room was an exhibit my husband really enjoyed.  There were two long and narrow halls that were fashioned to look like firing ranges and at the far end of each hall were life-sized paper targets shaped like men. My husband got a chance to touch, hold, and “fire" an actual Tommy Gun at one of the “men”.

The next room was the centerpiece of the Mob Museum. It was the real-life second-floor courtroom where hearings had been held to expose organized crime in 1950 and 1951.

We left that room and saw a film that showed the bloody remains of dead gangsters.  Real members of The Mob had been interviewed. We went downstairs and watched clips from Goodfellas and The Godfather.”

###

So, that’s a brief excerpt of my spicy PG-rated cozy mystery that takes place in Las Vegas. Why not give it a read and decide whether or not you’d like to spend a few days there where you can do some historical research along with seeing shows, eating good food, playing the slots, and drinking more than you should. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?

This cozy mystery costs only 99 cents and is available at most eBook stores including Amazon.

Here is the Amazon Link:

https://amzn.to/3VIWaOI

Happy Mardi Gras

 

Today is Mardi Gras y'all. Celebrate all things New Orleans and take a look at my erotic and atmospheric romance that takes place there in current times and also in the heyday of Storyville, a New Orleans' 19th century brothel district where our heroine falls in love with an alluring piano player who bears a striking resemblance to Jelly Roll Morton.

Here’s an excerpt:

I asked the sexy Creole young man, “Where are you taking me?"

We’re going to Storyville.  That’s where I live.”

“Storyville?  You mean the famous red-light district?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve read about it.  Storyville doesn’t exist anymore.  Are we going back in time?”

“Yes.  Back to 1899.”

“Wow!  This is weird, but exciting, too.”  I couldn’t believe it.  “Wow!” I said again.

“I hope you like it.”

“What do you do there in Storyville?”

“I play piano in some of the brothels.”

“Wow!  That’s where Louis Armstrong and Jelly Roll Morton got their start!”

“You know about them?”

“Yeah.  My grandfather likes jazz.”

“If you like jazz, you’ve come to the right place.”

I could hear music playing in the distance.  Before he opened the door, he said, “Are you ready to go back to 1899 with me?”

“Sure.  I’d follow you anywhere.”

He opened the door, and we went down some stairs. He opened another door and I saw a barely recognizable Basin Street.  Back then, it had railroad tracks running down the middle of the street.  People were scurrying about wearing Victorian-era clothing.  There were two-storied stately mansions, some adorned with turrets and cupolas, lining the street.  Some of the houses had naked women hanging out of the upper floor windows trying to tempt the men on the street to come inside and join them.  There were saloons and gambling parlors.

He said, “We’re going to the Mahogany House.”

“Okay,” I answered, ready for anything.

“Have you ever heard of Lulu White?”

“No.  Who is she?”

“She runs this place,” he said as we walked up to the door of a large mansion.  “It’s a lot nicer than some of the brothels down here.  It even has a marble staircase and two parlors.”

He opened a door and I saw half-dressed women sitting in a parlor talking to men.  A pianist in the corner was playing ragtime music.

He led me up the marble staircase and we came to a room.  I didn’t know what surprises he had in store for me next.  It was all so thrilling!

We entered a very plush bedroom filled with antiques.  It had a large crystal chandelier in the middle of the ceiling.  At first, I didn’t notice her: I was too busy looking at him and the dazzling interior. Then, I saw her—a red-headed young woman sitting up in a four-poster bed.  She was wearing a dressing gown that barely covered her large breasts.  I looked at him with fire in my eyes and said, “What’s this all about?!  Why are we here?”

He told me, “I wanted you to meet Lily, my wife.”

“Your wife!” I shouted.  “You never told me you were married!”  I was about ready to murder him.

Defensively, he answered, “I do have a past, you know.  I don’t exist in a vacuum.   I’ve known Lily since I was a child.  We grew up together.”

“Is she a prostitute?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re never jealous about her having sex with other men?”

“It’s all we’ve ever known.  We have an understanding.”

With building anger, I shoved his chest and yelled, “I want to go home.  I don’t like you anymore.”

He gripped my hands, trying to get me to stay.  I was surprised when he said, “Don’t be jealous.  I’m not going to be having sex with her. You are.”

He winked at me. I told myself, now I get it. He wants to watch. Well, I’ll put on quite a show, if that’s what he desires.  

###

Do you want to read more? This erotic story is available at Amazon, Apple, Barnes and Noble, Google Play, Kobo and Smashwords.

Here's the Amazon link:

https://www.amazon.com/Storyville-Time-Travel-Romance-Maggie-May-ebook/dp/B01LWLZ3AK

Sexy Vampire Erotica

 

Here's a sexy excerpt from my book "The Killing Moon: An Erotic Vampire Romance" meant for those who wonder what sex with a vampire may be like--

"It has been two weeks and I still haven’t seen my vampire.  Since I’d already broken into his house, I didn’t think it was right to do it again.  He has a right to his privacy, after all.  He hasn’t come to the library and I haven’t seen him near my house.  Where can he be?  I wonder if he’s in New Orleans with his maker.  Is he having sex with her right now?  Or maybe he is having a three-way somewhere with my hooker friend, Candy.  Finally, I get tired of waiting and call Candy to see if she’s heard from him.  I fish her business card out of my wallet and give her a ring.

I’m surprised when she picks up and I hear her familiar hello.  “Hi, Candy.  I thought you might let it go to voicemail.”

“Who’s this?” she asks suspiciously.

“Don’t you remember me?  It’s Renee.  We’ve had sex twice?  Have you forgotten me already?”

She laughs and says, “Hi, Renee.  Of course, I remember you.  Would you like to come over to my house and play with me?”

“I’m afraid I can’t afford you, honey.”

“Too bad.  I really wish you could.”

I clear my throat and try to dismiss thoughts of the fun and sexy times we’ve had together.  I tell her, “Actually, Candy, I’m calling to ask if you’ve seen vampire Beauregard.”

“No. Have you two gone all the way yet?”

“I’m still a virgin, if you can believe it.”

“Honey, that cherry needs poppin’ someday.”

“I know.  I wanted to, but I got scared when his fangs came out.”

“I know.  It freaked me out the first time too.  But he was paying, so I had to get used to it.”

“Did he ever take too much of your blood?  Were you ever afraid he might accidentally kill you?”

“No.  I just felt sluggish afterward.  He told me to take some iron supplements.  I did and then I regained my strength.  Back to normal.”

“That’s good to know.  So…how many times have you two had sex together?”

“Only twice.”

“Is he a good lover?”

“Yes!  Very intense.  He loves oral.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

She says, “Hang on while I light a cigarette.”

After I hear her exhale, I ask, “Did it hurt your pussy when he was licking and sucking?  Did you feel like he was gobbling you up; like he was literally eating you out?”

Candy laughs at my question and says, “Honey, he licked and sucked just the way I like it.”

“Okay.  Good to know.”

Candy teases, “All this sex talk is making my kitty purr.  Anything else I can do for you, Renee?”

“What’s he look like without any clothes on?”

“Can’t we talk about us?” Candy drawls in her best southern accent.

Feeling awkward, I say, “I’m just wondering, is all.”

She takes a drag off her cigarette and answers, “Well, if you insist.  He’s hot.”

“Yeah…Go on.”

“His chest and shoulders are really muscular, and his biceps are well-defined.  His pelvic muscles go down forming a perfect Vee, if you know what I mean.”

“No.  What do you mean?”

“Muscular guys like him have washboard abs and when their muscles veer down to their cocks, it forms a perfect Vee.”

“Hmmm.  Sounds sexy.  Does he have pubic hair?”

“Yeah.  Just like any other guy.  Oh, and he doesn’t have horns on his head or hoofs for feet, either.”

I laugh and say, “Good to know.  How do you usually get ahold of him?  Did he leave you his phone number?”

“He calls me.”

“So, you don’t know how to reach him?”

“Afraid not, hon.”

“Damn!  Well, okay.  Thanks for the info.”

“Hope to see you soon!”

“You, too.  Bye now.”

All that talk about how hot his body looks and what a great lover he is has my pussy moist and needing attention.  I go to my dresser drawer and pull my vibrator out, ready to do some flying solo and wishing it would be his cock inside of me instead of my silver bullet."

###

The Killing Moon: An Erotic Vampire Romance is available for 99 cents at most online bookstores including Amazon.

Here is the Amazon Link

https://amzn.to/3VLGJ8F

Sexy Cozy Mystery

The Salacious Scribes Mystery 

"I never imagined when I joined an erotic romance writing group that one of us would be killed at the Adult Entertainment Expo in Las Vegas. It had all started out so fun." So begins this humorous and PG-Rated romantic cozy mystery about the relationships between writers and what happens when one of them is killed. 

For Adults Only. 

Only 99 cents. 

https://amzn.to/3V7mzW8

Noir Mystery

 

Do you like to read, write, or watch noir mysteries?

In my erotic murder mystery called “Taken In”, I write about a noir detective. He falls for the seductive prime suspect in a case he’s investigating.  It’s a battle of the sexes that has some scenes of bondage and sexual power play in it and is meant for adults only. I channeled Bogart and Bacall when I created the main characters.

Here’s an excerpt:

Detective Harrison saw police cars and CSI vans in the front of the house where the man was killed and parked across the street from a row of grand houses—certainly not his usual crime scene.  The mansion’s graceful arches and lush garden were now cordoned off—violated by crime scene tape. He stepped out of his car to see what waited for him behind the closed doors.  What secrets did these wealthy people hide from the rest of their high society friends?

He stepped under the crime scene tape, climbed up to the front door, and pushed it open.  The front room had expensive antique furniture and area rugs covered a perfectly polished hardwood floor.  He saw a wall safe with its door open.  Crime scene investigators dusted for prints and took photographs.  He recognized a patrol officer and walked over to him.

“Hey, Sergeant Avery.  What happened here?  Were you the first on the scene?”

“Yes, I was.  There’s our dead guy, Mr. Charles Forshey, over there,” he told him, pointing to a man in his mid-fifties who was tied to a chair. 

Detective Harrison walked over to him and the sergeant followed.

Harrison looked at the rope pattern that tied the victim’s arms and said, “Hmmm. That’s interesting?”

“What is?”

He pointed to the man’s arms. “Look how intricately the rope was tied.  Somebody had skills tying things up and knew what they were doing.  It would have taken some time to strap him in like this.”

“If someone was trying to tie me up against my will, I would have been flaying my arms around.”

“It looks like he cooperated with whoever tied him up.”

“Maybe he knew his killer?”

“Possibly.”  He walked around the chair and saw the blood caked on the back of the victim’s head.

“It looks like he was shot execution-style.”

“We’ll know more after the coroner examines him.  Have you been able to find the gun?”

“Not yet, sir.”

“Who called it in?”

“His wife.  Apparently, she was on a business trip and when she arrived home, found him dead.”

“How’s she holding up?”

“She’s having a hard time.”

“Where is she?”

“In the courtyard by the fountain, last I saw her.”

“What’s her name?”

“Jessica Forshey.”

“Okay.  Thanks.  I’ll go see how she’s doing.”

He left the house and walked along a stone path lined with rose bushes on either side and saw a woman sitting at a table with her back to him. The first things he noticed were her shapely calves. One leg was crossed over the other and he saw the red-lacquered sole of a Christian Louboutin designer shoe, his footwear of choice for his submissives. Trying not to startle her, he walked in front of the table and said, “Ms. Forshey...”

She jumped upon seeing him, uncrossed her legs, and sat up straight. “Who are you?” she asked.

“I’m Detective Jay Harrison. I’m in charge of this case.” He showed her his badge.

“I see,” she answered, wiping her eyes, wet from crying. Her beauty took his breath away. She bore a striking resemblance to Lauren Bacall when she starred in To Have and Have Not. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was softly curled and parted on the side. Her eyes were a perfect mixture of blue and green and her eyebrows were perfectly arched, looking as if she could see right through anyone who talked to her. She wore a checkered jacket and a tight white blouse that just barely reined in her large breasts.

He cleared his throat and tried to stop thinking about how sexy she was. Sitting down at the table across from her, he said, “I know this is a difficult time and I’ll try not to inconvenience you too much.”

“Thank you,” she softly answered, and held an embroidered handkerchief up to her nose.

“I just have a few questions. I understand that you were gone on a business trip, came home from the airport, and found him dead.”

“That’s right.”

“What airline did you take?”

“Delta.”

“What city did you visit?”

“Atlanta.”

“And what kind of business?”

“I’m a buyer. There was a convention I attended.”

“I see. Is there anyone who can vouch for your whereabouts over the last 24 hours?”

“I was on a plane. Everyone could vouch for me if they remembered what I look like.”

“Oh, I think they’d definitely remember your face.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, because you are very beautiful.”

She blushed deeply and he could see that she liked to be complimented. That may come in handy later, he told himself.

“How did you get back to your house?”

“I drove home. I left my car in the airport’s parking garage. Why all the questions?”

“We always ask the person who found the body these questions. Often, the killer knew the victim.”

“You’re making me nervous,” she said and reached for a pack of cigarettes on the table. She put one in her mouth and he picked up a silver lighter lying on the table. When he lit her cigarette, she rested her fingertips on his hand and then slowly and sensually blew out a cloud of smoke. She glanced over at him and smiled.

He looked at the lighter more closely and read, “JRF. Are these your initials?”

“Yes.”

“What’s your middle name?”

“Roberta.”

“Very personalized. I like it when things are engraved. It’s classy.”

“If you say so.”

“Okay, Ms. Forshey—"

“Call me Jessica,” she flirted.

“Ms. Forshey,” he insisted, “What was the first thing you saw when you came home?”

“The front door was open. I thought that maybe my husband had forgotten to close it. He’s been quite forgetful lately. He had early-onset dementia.”

“Oh, sorry to hear that.”

“Tragic,” she said, flicking the ash off her cigarette into an oyster shell ashtray on the table.

“What did you see next?”

“The door to the safe was open.”

“Was it empty?”

“Yes. Someone took my jewelry and two gold bars.”

“Did your safe have a painting in front of it?”

“Yes. A landscape by Cezanne. I’m surprised the burglar didn’t take it. It’s worth a fortune.”

“I’ll have to take a look. Cezanne is one of my favorite artists.”

“Mine, too,” she answered and looked at him with a disarming smile.

“When did you notice that your husband was in the room?”

“Shortly after that.”

“Do you have any idea who might have wanted to kill him?”

“No. Everyone liked him. He didn’t have any enemies.”

“Oh, okay.”

He was quiet for a few beats and then asked, “Do you or your husband own a gun?”

“My husband kept one in a bedroom drawer.”

“Is it still there?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t looked.”

Which bedroom was yours?”

“His was upstairs to the left.”

He thought, hmmm…they don’t sleep together. Why not? Is there trouble in paradise?

“I’ll take a look before I leave.”

“Am I under arrest, Detective?”

“Should you be?”

“Do you always answer a question with a question?” Sounding defensive she said, “I wasn’t even in town. Ask my employer if you need confirmation.”

“I will. Where do you work?”

“At Saks Fifth Avenue.”

He handed his card to her. “Please write down your supervisor’s name and phone number.”

After she had done so and given him back his card, he said, “One more thing. Have you ever been on a sailboat?”

She laughed and said, “No. What a funny question. Why do you ask?”

“The ropes that bound him. Whoever did it knew some very intricate rope patterns.”

“You think I tied him up?”

“I’m just trying to gather as much information as I can. Nothing personal.”

She arched one of her well-defined eyebrows and tilted her head to the side, trying to figure out what made him tick.

He stood and said, “No. You’re not under arrest, Ms. Forshey. Just let me know if you plan to leave town.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out one of his cards.

She stood and he noticed how well she looked in a knee-length pencil skirt. She was tall for a woman—probably five foot ten. He shook her hand and told her, “I’m going to look for the gun.”

She answered him with a nod.

###

Do you want to read more? If so, it’s available for 99 cents at Amazon, Apple, Barnes and Noble, Kobo Adult, Smashwords, and Google Play.

 Here’s the Amazon link:

https://amzn.to/3wEUKrf

If you have Kindle Unlimited, you can read it for free.

 

 

Mardi Gras, New Orleans, Storyville, Erotic Romance

 

Can't go to New Orleans and be part of the festivities? Why not be an armchair traveler and read "Storyville: A Time Travel Erotic Romance" instead? It takes place in New Orleans and is a travel time tale about a young woman who moves to New Orleans and falls in love with a seductive ghost who once played the piano in the brothels there during the late 1800s.

Here’s an excerpt:

I asked the sexy Creole young man, “Where are you taking me?"

We’re going to Storyville.  That’s where I live.”

“Storyville?  You mean the famous red-light district?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve read about it.  Storyville doesn’t exist anymore.  Are we going back in time?”

“Yes.  Back to 1899.”

“Wow!  This is weird, but exciting, too.”  I couldn’t believe it.  “Wow!” I said again.

“I hope you like it.”

“What do you do there in Storyville?”

“I play piano in some of the brothels.”

“Wow!  That’s where Louis Armstrong and Jelly Roll Morton got their start!”

“You know about them?”

“Yeah.  My grandfather likes jazz.”

“If you like jazz, you’ve come to the right place.”

I could hear music playing in the distance.  Before he opened the door, he said, “Are you ready to go back to 1899 with me?”

“Sure.  I’d follow you anywhere.”

He opened the door, and we went down some stairs. He opened another door and I saw a barely recognizable Basin Street.  Back then, it had railroad tracks running down the middle of the street.  People were scurrying about wearing Victorian-era clothing.  There were two-storied stately mansions, some adorned with turrets and cupolas, lining the street.  Some of the houses had naked women hanging out of the upper floor windows trying to tempt the men on the street to come inside and join them.  There were saloons and gambling parlors.

He said, “We’re going to the Mahogany House.”

“Okay,” I answered, ready for anything.

“Have you ever heard of Lulu White?”

“No.  Who is she?”

“She runs this place,” he said as we walked up to the door of a large mansion.  “It’s a lot nicer than some of the brothels down here.  It even has a marble staircase and two parlors.”

He opened a door and I saw half-dressed women sitting in a parlor talking to men.  A pianist in the corner was playing ragtime music.

He led me up the marble staircase and we came to a room.  I didn’t know what surprises he had in store for me next.  It was all so thrilling!

We entered a very plush bedroom filled with antiques.  It had a large crystal chandelier in the middle of the ceiling.  At first, I didn’t notice her: I was too busy looking at him and the dazzling interior. Then, I saw her—a red-headed young woman sitting up in a four-poster bed.  She was wearing a dressing gown that barely covered her large breasts.  I looked at him with fire in my eyes and said, “What’s this all about?!  Why are we here?”

He told me, “I wanted you to meet Lily, my wife.”

“Your wife!” I shouted.  “You never told me you were married!”  I was about ready to murder him.

Defensively, he answered, “I do have a past, you know.  I don’t exist in a vacuum.   I’ve known Lily since I was a child.  We grew up together.”

“Is she a prostitute?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re never jealous about her having sex with other men?”

“It’s all we’ve ever known.  We have an understanding.”

With building anger, I shoved his chest and yelled, “I want to go home.  I don’t like you anymore.”

He gripped my hands, trying to get me to stay.  I was surprised when he said, “Don’t be jealous.  I’m not going to be having sex with her. You are.”

He winked at me. I told myself, now I get it. He wants to watch. Well, I’ll put on quite a show, if that’s what he desires.  
###

Do you want to read more? This erotic story is available at Amazon, Apple, Barnes and Noble, Google Play, Kobo and Smashwords.

Here's the Amazon link:

https://www.amazon.com/Storyville-Time-Travel-Romance-Maggie-May-ebook/dp/B01LWLZ3AK

"Sugar Daddy" an erotic romance by Maggie May

 

A humorous erotic romance about a young librarian who meets a handsome slightly older man who comes into her library while he's on jury duty next door at the courthouse.

Would you like to read more?

It only costs 99 cents.

Sugar Daddy is available at all your 

favorite online bookstores.

Click Here To Purchase Sugar Daddy: 

http://books2read.com/sugar