Howdy! I'm Eddie Smith and this is the story of my sixth (sixth!) romantical adventure with my husband, Whit Hall. We just celebrated our first anniversary a couple of weeks ago by spending some quality time at our beach house in Sonoma County. A year! Can you believe it? It's the day before St. Patrick's Day, and... Wait. Would that be St. Patrick's Day Eve? Ahem... You might know this, because I didn't, but this is the time of the year when the football teams do trades and contracts and such. Of course, I have no clue what any of that means. What I do know is that Whit, being the new owner of the San Antonio Matadors, is a little, shall we say, tense. I'm doing the best I can to help him, which is mostly by staying out of the way. But then his tension rises a whole heck of a lot when he stumbles across a dead body here in Daytona Beach... And then he gets jealous of the police lieutenant who's working the case... There's a lot going on here as you can probably imagine. Anyway, I gotta run! Whit's upstairs in his office and pissed off about not getting the wide receiver or quarterback or whomever he was hoping for. The socials, as you might imagine, are not being kind. And I'm about to hop in the police lieutenant's car... He's asked for my help, not that I have any to offer. What do I know about dead bodies other than what I've seen on Perry Mason and Law & Order? I'm sure this is going to work out really well. But, as always, I can't wait to find out what happens next! * * * This is a novel that runs to about 79K words.