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Informationen zum Autor Kate Lansing is an award-winning short-story author. Her work has appeared in the Brave New Girls anthology and the Crossing Colfax anthology. She lives in Denver, Colorado, with her husband, daughter, and a chair-napping tabby cat named Maple. Klappentext A Valentine's Day getaway is on the rocks when a young winemaker discovers a body at an alpine resort in this delightful cozy mystery. When Parker Valentine decides to take a weekend getaway with her boyfriend Reid, a ski trip seems like the perfect choice. Between hitting the slopes and persuading the resort's wine director to sell her mulled wine, Parker is eager to mix business with pleasure. But her plans are muddled when she finds the resort owner's body on a treacherous portion of ski trail near the resort. As a result, not only is Parker's romantic weekend thrown into chaos, but now that the owner has died, her business deal is due for a frosty reception, and her life might be in danger as well. After a series of unfortunate mishaps befall Parker, she realizes that whoever killed the resort owner might want to tie up loose ends. Parker's going to need all of the investigative skills at her disposal to catch a killer before they put her on ice. Story Locale: Boulder, CO Series Overview: Parker Valentine, the owner of newly opened winery Vino Valentine, expertly pairs wine with solving murders in the picturesque town of Boulder, CO. Leseprobe Chapter One Snowflakes settle on the mirror outside my passenger-side window. Normally I would marvel at their unblemished sparkle or muse over their uniqueness. Now I glare at the offensive flakes as if I could melt them with the sheer force of my concentration. Of course, they don't melt and snow continues to accumulate, each flake chipping away at my patience. I-70, the gateway to the mountains, is a glorified parking lot. And an icy one at that, thanks to this ill-timed storm. A sheer rocky cliff looms above us while the Colorado River surges below, and all around us: cars. Sedans, SUVs, trucks, and even semis-none have moved more than an inch in at least five minutes and I'm beginning to panic. I must let out an audible groan because Reid reaches across the console for my hand, never taking his eyes off the road. "Don't worry, Parks, we'll get there." The nickname Reid has taken to calling me rolls off his tongue. Parks, short for Parker, which is ironically what he may as well do with his jeep. I study his profile: the scruff covering his chin, mussed sandy-blond hair, soft flannel shirt rolled to his elbows, head subtly bobbing to the beat of the indie band playing over the speakers. I give his hand an appreciative squeeze, my fingertips grazing the calluses he's garnered from expertly wielding a chef's knife. Reid owns the hottest farm-to-table restaurant in Boulder, which he left in the charge of his capable sous chefs so we could fly the coop. "It's not the getting there I'm worried about," I say. "It's the when." My brother's voice carries from the backseat, where he and my best friend, Sage, are engrossed in a game of rock-paper-scissors with a neighboring minivan. "Remind us again why you scheduled a work meeting when we're supposed to be relaxing." Liam's forte is relaxing, even when he should be focusing on his freelance photography or doting upon the goddess he happens to be dating, aka Sage. "No, go paper this time," Sage interjects, sensing their adversary's proclivity for choosing rock. Her strawberry-blond hair is pinned back with one of her trademark nerd-canon barrettes, this one a lightsaber pin. "Because this could be huge for Vino Valentine," I explain, tugging on the beaded necklace around my neck. "I can't pass up the opportunity." De...
