fuonlyknew

Follow the heart-warming story of George Bernard Sheth, a devoted pug and bee lover, who has been secretly crushing on a local mead brewer. But when a customer dies during a mead tasting, Murphy Baird, the brewer, finds himself at the centre of a police investigation.

As the two navigate the murder mystery, they find themselves falling deeper in love, all while trying to stay alive long enough for their first date. With meddling friends and unexpected plot twists, “Honey Mead Murder” is a must-read for anyone who loves a good MM romance and a thrilling mystery.

Amazon * Apple * Kobo * Smashwords * Books2Read * Bookbub * Goodreads

.

.

“Oi. Mister Grump? Your carthorse has arrived.”

Murphy stood up from where he was crouched down to inspect the latest delivery. “Carthorse? Hardly. I’ve already brought the delivery inside. And for the millionth time, Tea. I am not a grump.”

“No, you just hate mornings, afternoons, people, sunlight, basically everyone but your lovely George.” Teagen was, as always, immune to his glowering at them. “Well?”

“Hate is a strong word. I don’t hate you.” Murphy wasn’t entirely sure he liked his best friend every day, but he didn’t hate them. “Come on then, Tea. We’ve got a fresh batch of honey delivered yesterday. We also need to check on the two-year casks. Probably want another year on them just to get them where we want the flavour.”

For six years, Murphy had run Honey Bear Brewery. It had been a play on his nickname of Paddington, earned during his brief stint in the military, owing to his surname of Baird and his tall, stocky build. His dark brown hair and scruffy beard certainly didn’t help put people off the comparison.

His grumbly stubbornness came from both his Irish and Scottish sides. His ma had always claimed he bore more than a passing resemblance to his great-granddad Murphy. She’d been so proud when he’d decided to continue the family tradition of running a brewery.

For the first two years, Murphy had gone with simple ales. But then, he’d developed a close friendship with a local beekeeper, George Sheth. The younger man had been struggling to sell his honey.

His pride and joy.

Inspired by George, Murphy had decided to begin experimenting with family recipes. Something from his Scottish side. His da had a collection of mead ones that dated back a century or more. It had taken some trial and error to get everything right, but his brewery and the small pub attached to it were doing well six years later.

“Well? Did you finally ask our playwright out?”

“Tea.” Murphy shook his head at their teasing grin. “It’s George Bernard Sheth. Not Shaw. Plus his ma’s Scottish, not Irish, and his dad’s from India, so I highly doubt either of them are related to a famed Irish playwright.”

“Must you take all the joy out of my play on names and words? Besides if they didn’t want anyone to make the connection, why name him George Bernard? Fine, fine. Well? Did you ask him out?”

“He’s named for his ma, Georgie, and I think a great-uncle. And no, I… couldn’t ask him out.”

.

Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads * Newsletter

.