Honey Mead Murder by Dahlia Donovan EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Dahlia Donovan
- Language: English
- Genre: Cozy Craft & Hobby Mysteries
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
MURPHY
“Oi. Mr 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.” Murphy leaned back against the table behind him.
He dragged his hand across his face, pausing to scratch his beard. His blue
eyes met their dark brown ones. He finally noticed they’d changed up their
hair colour. “I like the green.”
“Yeah?” They reached up to run their fingers along the shaved part of their
head, tracing the line of the tight box cut. “I wanted a change. A little
shorter trim. And the green fits.”
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