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A collection of short stories from National Bestselling author Leslie Langtry...
What do the Minotaur, Rasputin, the first man hung for murder in America, and the Countess of Blood all have in common? No, they aren’t related. They all appeared on the Bombay Family’s Hit List! In this collection of Bombay Bedtime Stories, you’ll find out what Bombays did before Gin Bombay came along. From pet Dodo birds to Ancient Greece and 20th Century Russia, get the stories Bombay children have been told for thousands of years. Stories that have been shrouded in blood-sworn secrecy…until now!
What critics are saying about the Greatest Hits Mysteries:
“Mixing a deadly sense of humor and plenty of sexy sizzle, Leslie Langtry creates a brilliantly original, laughter-rich mix of contemporary romance and suspense.”
-Chicago Tribune
"Langtry gets the fun started from page one with a myriad of clever details.”
-Publisher’s Weekly
Excerpt:
Bombay, The Um, First Bombay – The Minotaur
Island of Crete, 1256 BCE
I had to move carefully, I reminded myself as I knocked over a clay pot. Who had clay pots anymore? It was the Bronze Age for the gods’ sake! Clay pottery was useless and would never again be worth more than the dirt it was mixed from.
The pot tottered precariously. My reflexes were pretty quick, though, and I caught it before it hit the stone road. After regaining my breath, I slipped into the shadows, away from the market, toward the outskirts of town.
My contact was nervous. An idiot. An Athenian. He did not like coming to Crete to meet me. But he had no choice. If he wanted me to get the job done, he’d have to come here. I wasn’t fond of sailing. Too many sea monsters and that overly sensitive Poseidon. I’ll keep my sandals on terra firma, thanks.
Let Codros take the risk. I didn’t know what he wanted me to do, but he promised me a lot of money. A noise from my left gave me pause. I froze, willing my body to blend in with the wall behind me. Nothing. Probably a bird or something.
At long last I reached the crossroads. Codros was there, twitching nervously, naturally. Fucking Athenians.
“You came,” he said as he ran his hand through his thick curls. He’d been my contact for the last year. It took him that long to stop staring at my breasts. Apparently, Athenian girls covered theirs – unlike Cretan women. And also, he’d never seen a pair before. Aside from the fact he was a moron and had no clue as far as Cretan fashion was concerned, he was passable to work with.
“Of course I came,” I snapped. “What do you want?”
Codros looked left and right, as if he didn’t trust me not to be followed. I rolled my eyes skyward and asked the gods for strength.
“We want to pay you three thousand gold coins to kill the Minotaur.”
“Three thousand?” I asked. Surely I misheard him. That was a lot of money. More money than I would ever see in my lifetime. Was this some sort of trap?
Codros nodded. He looked right and left again, which pissed me off, before reaching behind a rock and pulling out a bag loaded with something heavy. He tossed the bag at my feet.
“Here is half,” he said quietly. “Once you prove the Minotaur is dead, you will get the rest.”
I bent down to examine the bag in the fading light of dusk. My fingers slid past the rough material and closed on a pile of cold coins. I stood, leaving the bag on the ground.
“The Minotaur is a myth,” I said. King Minos was always messing with the Athenians. No such half man, half bull existed in real life. Did they really believe that? This had to be a trap.
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