Lacey Luzzi: Spiced: a humorous, cozy mystery! (Lacey Luzzi Mafia Mysteries Book 8)
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LACEY LUZZI: SPICED
Copyright: Gina LaManna
ISBN: XXXX
Published: March 12th, 2016
Kindle Edition
The right of Gina LaManna to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
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SPICED
SYNOPSIS
Love is in the air at Casa Luzzi! Hearts, stars, and tiny gel-cling cupids line the windows while Meg, Clay, Anthony, and Lacey struggle to navigate the waters of their new and (mostly) improved relationships.
But it's not all sunshine and sprinkles over at the Luzzi Estate. With Marissa and Clarissa on the run from home, Lacey is tasked to find them – and find them fast.
As the situation heats up from all angles, Lacey and Anthony are spicing things up on the home front. Secrets from his past are unearthed, while she asks questions about their future. Between a looming birthday, a mystery gift, and the never-ending quest to keep enough underwear stashed in her purse, it’s time for Lacey to face her biggest fears head on. When everything culminates in a dangerous game, Lacey realizes that the end has come.
This time, only one person can walk away unscathed.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
To you, my readers! Thank you for your friendship and support – and especially to all of you LaManna Ladies! I appreciate each and every one of you, and without your encouragement, Lacey would not exist.
** **
To Grandma Carol, from whom I got the “LaManna” part of my name. Happy 77th birthday!
To Alex…and his Datsuns. я тебя люблю!
To Mom & Dad: For being the best parents.
To Meg & Kristi— For being the best sisters.
To Katie: For being my only friend to actually read a book.
To Stacia: I tilt my head to you.
To my Oceans Apart ladies:
- Joy: What would I do without you? You spice up my life!
- Monique: For introducing me to Freckles!
- Asheley: To meeting in person, sooner rather than later!
To Barb, Dianne, Kim, and Connie: Thank you for being the first eyes on this book!
To Nadia: In memory of your father.
To Sprinkles On Top Studios, my awesome cover designer. Photo Courtesy of Deposit Photos
And last but not least, to all my family and friends, thanks for making me laugh.
Table of Contents
SPICED
SYNOPSIS
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
CHAPTER 49
CHAPTER 50
CHAPTER 51
EPILOGUE
THE END
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CHAPTER 1
“It’s the year of the unicorn.”
“What?” I blinked away sleep and wrapped a fuzzy bathrobe tighter around my body. “Meg, it’s seven in the morning and freezing outside. I don’t want to be rude…but why are you here?”
Standing on the front steps of Anthony’s newly renovated home, Meg had her trusty Balloonicorn tucked under one arm. The poor blow-up animal was a bit battered after a wild sledding expedition a month back, but his skin still retained its original, bright-pink hue. “I’m here to celebrate. You know how they have snake and monkey and rat years? Well, rats are ugly. I’m declaring this the year of the unicorn.”
I leaned against the doorway. “I don’t think you’re allowed to make that call. Nice try, though.”
“It only makes sense! Hear me out. Leap day is in less than a month, right?” Lowering her voice, she glanced around with a conspiratorial whisper. “February 29th doesn’t really exist. That’s why I call it Unicorn Day.”
“February 29th is officially on the calendar.” I tilted my head sideways. “I’m pretty sure it exists.”
“Yeah, I know.” She winked. “Just like unicorns.”
As it was too early for “Meg-logic,” I stepped aside and watched as she waltzed into the restored-barn-turned-cozy-house. “Anyway, we can celebrate later. I figured you might be sleeping, but I was in the neighborhood and wondered if I could borrow that thing you use on your hair?”
“A blow dryer?”
“Yeah.” She turned to me, her cheeks as pink as the Balloonicorn. “Is that the thing that makes your hair straight?”
“Why do you ask?” Sidling up to my friend, I gave her a nice, big wink. “Hot date tonight?”
“Can I use the blow dryer or not?”
I disappeared into the bathroom, returning a few moments later with a blow dryer, a straightener, and a curler.
“Am I supposed to perform brain surgery?” Meg stared at the tools with dismay. “I tend to let my locks go au naturel, so this is all new to me. In my experience, men prefer the wild look.”
“Is your date tonight?”
She shook her head. “It’s for that thing coming up.”
“Valentine’s Day?”
She nodded.
“Perfect! Then we have plenty of time. How about I help you get ready?” Patting her on the shoulder, I spoke in a soothing voice. “I’ll help with everything; you can come over before your date with Clay.”
“Who said my date’s with Clay?”
I blinked. “Isn’t it?”
; “I mean, I hope it’s with him. He just hasn’t asked me yet.” Dumping the hair tools plus the Balloonicorn in one of my extra tote bags hanging in the entryway, she re-opened the front door. “I’m getting prepared. Just in case. It’s not a big deal. Anyway, see ya later.”
And as quickly as she’d whirled in, she was gone. Along with all of the hair tools and my most sparkly Victoria’s Secret bag. Good morning, from Meg.
CHAPTER 2
Deciding to make the best of my unexpected awakening from Meg, I shuffled into the kitchen and started grabbing ingredients to make Anthony breakfast in bed. Since I was rarely up and functioning before him, it was too good of an opportunity to pass up.
I tiptoed around the kitchen until I found a loaf of the healthy-type bread. Anthony only ate the seedy sort with fiber and natural stuff, while I was used to the pasty-white Hostess loaves that Clay and I kept in the cupboard. Making a face, I shoved a few pieces in the toaster and pressed the lever.
A few minutes later, I’d just put some hot water in the kettle to boil and snuck a handful of chocolate chips for a morning jolt of energy, when a creak from the hallway startled me into dropping at least four perfectly good chocolate chips on the floor.
“Good morning, sugar,” Anthony said, appearing like a ghost just behind me. He wrapped his arms around my waist, but I was too busy having a heart attack to appreciate the gesture.
“Don’t do that to me!” I clapped a hand to my chest. “I thought you were still sleeping.”
“I heard you clattering around out here, and I thought I’d come keep you company.”
Trying to keep a faux-angry expression on my face, I bent to retrieve the chocolate chip casualties from the floor. But my upset-face didn’t hold for long. One eyeful of early-morning Anthony had a smile playing on my lips again. Tall, lean, and disheveled, he somehow made “cute” and “sexy” blur into an indecipherable mix. His dark eyes held that well-rested, clear gleam after a night of good sleep, which made me feel a little proud after last night’s performance. His hair stood up on all ends, but in a shaggy-chic sort of way. A crooked smile parted those lips I loved so much.
However, Anthony and I had very different interpretations of morning. At least on the outside. While Anthony could’ve been styled by Armani himself, I walked the fashion line between “fork-in-the-toaster” and “struck-by-lightning.” My medium-long hair might be described politely as “fuzzy,” just like my socks. And I’d borrowed a pair of boxer shorts and a t-shirt which, though comfortable, didn’t do much to flatter my twenty-nine(ish)-year-old figure.
After retrieving the chocolate pieces, I straightened to the sound of Anthony sniffing.
“Is something burning?” He looked around, his eyes lighting up as they landed on the source of the scent. “Ah, you’re making toast.”
“It’s not my fault your toaster is finicky,” I said, taking a slice of burnt bread from the toaster and depositing it straight into the garbage. “But if you can wait a few more minutes, I promise you the third time’s a charm. I’m still on attempt number one.”
Anthony raised his eyebrow.
I shrugged. “I was trying to make you breakfast in bed.”
“I’m simple.” He arched that eyebrow higher. “I don’t need anything fancy.”
“I didn’t think toast was particularly fancy.”
“I can think of one thing I’d prefer over toast.”
“What’s that?” I opened his cupboard. “Because it might have to be Cocoa Puffs. We’re low on breakfast items.”
“You’re getting closer,” he said, a devilish tone to his voice. Then he leaned in and whispered in a heady tone full of innuendo. “My little cocoa puff.”
Spinning halfway around, I eyed Anthony. “I think you’re trying to be cute. But the way I read this, you’re calling me chocolate and puffy, mister.”
Anthony’s suave smirk froze into an expression filled with horror. “No. No, that’s not what I meant at all.”
I sighed.
“Come here and stop stressing about breakfast.”
“No!” My shoulders slumping, I turned back to the cupboard. “I just wanted to make you breakfast in bed one time without spilling the coffee on the way there, or mixing up the sugar with the salt, or—”
My vent was interrupted by two strong arms firmly grasping me by the waist. Lifting me with ease, Anthony slung my body fireman-style over his shoulders and marched towards the bedroom. At least, he tried to.
His plan was foiled when I didn’t let go of the cupboards. While my legs flopped over the front of his shoulders like a sack of potatoes, my grip on the handles jerked his march to a stop.
“Lacey, let go of the cupboard,” Anthony said patiently. “I’ll order in breakfast.”
“But I want to do something domestic for you, just once in a while. Otherwise, why am I here?”
“I didn’t ask you to come over last night so you could cook me breakfast.”
I rolled my eyes, but he couldn’t see it, since I was still focused on not letting go of the handles. It was a tug of war between Anthony and the cupboards, and I was the rope. “Yeah, yeah, but you pay rent, and you pay the housekeeper, and you pay for dinner...I want to contribute.”
“Then let go of the cupboard, Lacey. Step away from the cupboard.”
“I can’t!”
Anthony placed one hand firmly on my rear end, and I yelped. Then he raised his other hand and gave a tickle under one of my armpits. I yelped even louder. “You’re cheating!”
“You contribute plenty around here, now stop being unreasonable.”
“How do I contribute?” I took a deep breath. “Tell me how I contribute, and I’ll let go.”
Anthony had to think for a moment. At least I think he was thinking, but it felt more like he was squeezing certain areas of my body.
“Answer me, Anthony, don’t just squeeze my butt.”
“It helps me think.”
“Then you should be very smart after the weekend we just had together.”
Anthony laughed. “See? There. A perfect example. You make me laugh. You make me happy. Without you, we wouldn’t have had New Year’s decorations. We wouldn’t have hosted Meg and Clay and...well, all the other people you invited to the party. This house would be cold and boring without you here.”
I swallowed. “That’s pretty nice of you to say.”
“It’s true. Now, will you let go?”
I loosened my fingers, but didn’t let go completely. “Anything else?”
“I wouldn’t have someone to keep me warm in the mornings. I don’t know how you do it, but you’re a furnace; you radiate heat. I wouldn’t have someone getting too tipsy drinking champagne on a Tuesday night and deciding to have a dance party in the living room. By herself. I wouldn’t have someone put up all of those...things.”
At the last word, I let go of the cupboards, and slid my arms around Anthony’s neck as he plopped me on my feet. I ignored the fact that he took a few deep breaths, as if holding me had been difficult. I was on the burnt toast diet, for crying out loud. I should be light and airy inside. “You like the hearts?”
Anthony squinted at all of the little heart-clings I’d plastered on the windows next to the front door. “Well, ‘like’ might be a little bit strong, but…”
“You don’t like them?” I frowned. “And hey buddy, stop breathing so heavy. You’re a big strong man, right? I’m not all that hefty, am I?”
“You had a really strong grip on those cupboards.” Anthony ran a hand through his hair, ignoring the question about the heart-clings.
“Does it bother you that I decorated for the holiday?”
“No! Not at all. I love that you’re festive. And that you decorate for every little holiday.”
“I mean, it’s Valentine’s Day. I wouldn’t say that’s a ‘little’ holiday.”
“It’s a little holiday.”
“Not really…” I wheedled. “I don’t throw up decorations f
or Columbus Day or…or Earth Day. I love them, but I don’t decorate for them. See, now those are little holidays.”
“February 14th is a Hallmark holiday.”
I shrugged. “Maybe. I’m not asking you to buy me a card and chocolates. In fact, I’d prefer you don’t. I’m just saying there’s nothing wrong with using February 14th as an excuse to celebrate.”
“You don’t need an excuse to celebrate. You celebrated Tuesday night because...well, I don’t know why. Because it was Tuesday night and you wanted champagne?” He shrugged. “I’m not saying I don’t want to treat you to something special on Valentine’s Day. But you have put a lot of hearts and pink things around this house.”
“I thought you were comfortable with your feminine side.”
“I don’t have a feminine side.”
I smiled. “Well, I do.”
“How about we compromise? You can leave them up for Valentine’s Day, and I can take them down by President’s Day.”
“I suppose.” I grinned. “You have less than a week of torture left.”
A look of relief flooded Anthony’s face. He scooped me up by the waist despite my yelps and even a screech, and he dragged me back to the master bedroom without a word. I didn’t care what Anthony said about Valentine’s Day being a Hallmark holiday. We had a happy household right now, and I was going to celebrate it. Specifically, I was going to celebrate with all the red hearts, pink hearts, and gel-cling Cupids that the Target dollar spot had to offer.
CHAPTER 3
“Wasn’t that much better than toast?” Anthony asked, as we sat in bed with a tray of food before us. He held out a slice of the cold pizza we’d scrounged up from the fridge.
Taking a bite of sausage and pepperoni, I chewed while deep in thought. “Are you talking about the pizza or the sex?”
Anthony looked confused. He glanced at the pizza, then at me. “Both?”