Margarita Nights is a cozy with grit — serving Jack Daniels instead of tea.
In a small Florida beach town, Sherri Travis is a bartender with attitude and a woman with an inconveniently murdered husband who turns out to be as much trouble to her dead as he was alive.
Sifting through the debris of Jimmy’s life, Sherri finds more than a few people who wanted her lying, scheming, scam artist husband gone — but which one actually did the deed?
Targeted Age Group:: 12 and up
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
What inspires you to write?
Characters walk around in my head and I either have to give them a home or take massive amounts of drugs. And then there is the news. Did you ever read an article in the paper and wonder what happened next? Or wonder why it came about in the first place? Imagination takes over and I start constructing a story to explain these events. Champagne for Buzzards came about when I saw a television news article about buzzards returning to their natural breeding grounds to find new houses had been built there. Buzzards were sitting on children’s play sets, boats and garden furniture. What if you woke up one morning and saw buzzards sitting on the cab of your red pick-up? What if… words that inspire me.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
Hearing voices is what writing is all about. Call it madness or call in inspiration, without those voices there is no book. The best fictional characters are the ones who speak to our hearts as well as our heads, both as readers and writers, the people who walk off the pages and into our lives to stay with us forever. I now know more about my characters than I know about most of the members of my family. Don’t we know more about Scarlet O’Hara, or some other fictional character, than we do about our best friend?
Book Sample
The Suncoaster blew up at four-thirty on a Tuesday afternoon in late January while I was setting up for the rush hour at the Sunset Bar and Grill.
I love bars. Like people, each one has its own personality; some are boring, some are stimulating and some are downright dangerous. When you enter a new one it’s always best to stop just inside the door, taking your time until you decide just what kind you’ve got.
The Sunset is the crème de la crème of watering holes. On the second floor of a pink stucco building decorated with white Bermuda shutters and tall graceful palms, etched glass doors lead from the lobby of the restaurant into the bar. Black-and-white photographs of Key West in the thirties line the Cypress-paneled walls. Overhead, two giant fans on pulleys stir air smelling of old leather chairs, long ago Cuban cigars and expensive perfume.
Early evening is my favorite time of day at the Sunset. Quiet, but with a sense of waiting in the air—waiting for something that hasn’t quite arrived but you know it’s coming. That day, Sinatra was singing in the background about Nancy with the laughing eyes while the ceiling fans slowly turned.
Across the bar from me sat the same two guys who were there every day about that time. The three of us, Brian Spears, Clay Adams and me, Sherri Travis, had the bar to ourselves. It was early yet. Things would heat up fast enough, but in the meantime we were doing what we always did, sharing life.
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