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.”

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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.  

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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