A LITTLE TASTE

  BE STILL SERIES

  TIA LOUISE

  CONTENTS

  A Little Taste

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue

  A Little Twist

  Prologue

  Wait for Me

  Prologue

  Books by Tia Louise

  About the Author

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  A Little Taste

  Copyright © TLM Productions LLC, 2023

  Printed in the United States of America.

  Cover design by Lori Jackson Design.

  Photography by Wander Aguiar.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, photocopying, mechanical, or otherwise—without prior permission of the publisher and author.

  Created with Vellum

  A LITTLE TASTE

  BY TIA LOUISE

  Aiden Stone is a six-foot-two former Marine with a permanent scowl, dark hair, and dreamy blue eyes.

  He’s the oldest of the Stone brothers, and his “by the book” family has battled mine for control of our small town for generations.

  The last thing I should do is sleep with him. Or nearly run him down with my truck. Especially since he's sort-of my new boss...

  It doesn’t help that my grandmother (the mayor) is a former magician, and my mom is a psychic (sort-of)... And my dad died in a failed escape-artist attempt (that my mother is convinced was a murder).

  Trust me, I know crazy, but I’m just plain ole Britt Bailey, Shania Twain-loving, non-magical forensic photographer. Yes, I take pictures of dead things, but I don’t see them in my bedroom at night.

  I only want to see one thing in my bedroom at night, and when I’m called home to help Sheriff Stone on an investigation, he actually stops frowning for a minute, and my teenage fantasies get very real.

  It’s a terrible idea. We work together, he’s seven years older than me, he’s a single dad, he hates all things magic, but a little taste, and we can’t say no.

  Until the town crime wave turns personal, putting everything on the line, and we’ll need more than a magic bullet to get our happily ever after.

  (A LITTLE TASTE is a small-town, grumpy single-dad romance with a touch of light suspense and lots of tasty spice. No cheating. No cliffhanger.)

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Kicking off a new series is so exciting and terrifying and fun and scary. Luckily, I have the most amazing team of helpers and readers and friends, and I love you all!

  Huge thanks and so much love to my husband “Mr. TL” for his patience while I write, his encouragement when I’m discouraged, his ideas when I’m stuck, and his eagerness to read each new adventure.

  Thank you to my beautiful daughters who have left the nest but still believe in me, make me laugh, and support me from afar. I love you ladies!

  Thanks so much to my alpha readers Renee McCleary and Leticia Teixeira for your enthusiasm and incredible feedback on Aiden and Britt’s story! Your funny notes and swoony highlights keep me motivated!

  Huge thanks to my incredible betas, Maria Black, Corinne Akers, Amy Reierson, Courtney Anderson, Jennifer Christy, and Jennifer Kreinbring. You guys give the best notes!

  Thanks to Jaime Ryter for your eagle-eyed edits and to Lori Jackson and Kate Farlow for the killer cover designs, to my dear Wander for the perfect image, and the amazing Stacy Blake, who helps me make my gorgeous paperback interiors!

  Thanks to my dear Starfish, to my Mermaids, and to my Veeps for keeping me sane and organized while I’m in the cave.

  I can’t begin to put into words how much I appreciate the love and support of all the influencers on BookTok, Instagram, Facebook, and to my author-buds! I love you guys so much…

  I hope you all adore this new world, these crazy characters, and all the love! I’m so blessed to have you. Thank you for helping me do what I do.

  Stay sexy,

  <3 Tia

  “Love is the closest thing we have to magic.”

  -Jay Ann

  To my readers, my friends, and Mr. TL,

  a little pixie dust ✨

  CHAPTER 1

  AIDEN

  “Yep, he’s a goner.” Deputy Doug Hally straightens with a groan, holding the squashed cucumber out for my inspection.

  I nod grimly, and Terra Belle throws up her arms in distress. “My entire pickle farm is destroyed! Who would do such a thing?”

  We’re standing in the middle of the two-acre field now riddled with large, circular ruts and damaged fruit still on the vine. The pattern of the tire tracks reminds me of that movie about the aliens making crop circles, but this damage was definitely done by a vehicle of some sort.

  “My money’s on them no-good Jones boys.” My sole deputy tosses the damaged fruit to the side, lowering his brow in a knowing way.

  “You think it was Bull and Raif, Dad? Are you going to arrest them? Can I go?” My son Owen blinks up at me, his seven-year-old eyes wide, and I hesitate.

  If he weren’t here, I’d say this looks more like asshole teenagers who watched that movie and wanted to play a prank. The Jones boys were probably too drunk or high last night to do something this precise, but it’s important to me to be a good role model, even when I’m tired.

  Placing my hand on Owen’s shoulder, I summon my dad, the former sheriff of Eureka’s calm wisdom. I think about what he’d have said to me at Owen’s age.

  “It’s not our job to decide who’s guilty, son. We have to collect the evidence and make our best determination, then we’ll get a judge to issue a warrant.”

  “Oh, you know it was those Jones boys.” Terra drops to a squat, holding up a vine of crushed cuke after cuke–it looks like a sad party favor. “I’m tempted to gather up the rest of these and beat them to death with ‘em.”

  “Now, Terra,” Deputy Doug cautions. “Two wrongs don’t make a right.”

  “Yeah, don’t go there, Terra,” I add. “Then I’d have to arrest you, too.”

  “So you are going to arrest them?” She stands quickly. Her dark hair is tied up in a red handkerchief, and she’s wearing faded overalls and from what I can tell, nothing else. “This kind of vandalism can’t go unpunished. It’s trespassing, destruction of property, murder…”

  With every charge she shakes the pickle vine at me, and I stand straighter, rising to my full six-foot-two height and lowering my voice. “Take it easy, Terra.”

  It’s my standard way to diffuse tense situations, and sure enough, Terra deflates.

  “What am I going to do about my existing orders?”

  “You’ve got insurance, don’t ya?” Doug squints as he walks to where we’re standing.

  “Of course I do!” she snaps at him, but I let it pass.

  She’s facing a pretty significant loss, which has her understandably emotional. I have no clue how long it takes to grow a crop of cucumbers, and Terra Belle’s Pickle Patch is regionally famous, which I guess might make her a target. Of what, I don’t know.

  Exhaling slowly, I maintain my calm. “I’ll head back to the office and get you a police report to send to the insurance company. Hopefully, that’ll get you some money pretty quick.” She starts to argue it’s not enough, and I nod. “I know you want justice today, but I can't go arresting people without evidence. It’ll just get thrown out, and that’s not how we do things.”

  “Well, maybe it should be,” she grouses.

  I’m tired. I haven’t had my first cup of coffee. The call to come out here had me out of bed before the sun even broke the horizon. Now it’s climbing higher in the sky, and I’m ready to head to the office and possibly have breakfast.

  “Doug, you finish up here, and I’ll get Terra’s report ready.” I’m not sure the correct way to phrase my next question. “Before I go, do you have any enemies or rival… picklers?”

  “Oh, I’ve got plenty of rivals, but no one would stoop to this level.” She wipes a tear off her cheek. “Destroying my babies.”

  Pressing my lips together, I nod. I’m not good with tears, especially tears over “baby pickles,” which in reality are called cucumbers.

  “All the same, send me any names that come to mind, and take plenty of pictures. I’ll have that report to you by lunchtime.”

  I whistle to my son, who’s holding a squashed frui
t with a stick and examining it. He drops it at once and takes off running to my truck. I let Doug drive the cruiser. In this town, I’m fine with a black Silverado and a light on the dash when necessary.

  Terra can work this out with her insurance company, and I’ll have Doug inspect every teenager in town’s vehicle for traces of cucumber vines. It won’t take long in Eureka, South Carolina. I’ll include the Jones boys to cover all the bases.

  We’re halfway back to town, the radio playing some old country song. Owen’s beside me, buckled in and bouncing Zander, his tattered, stuffed zebra on his legs. “Why would anybody drive a car in Ms. Belle’s pickle patch?”

  My hand is propped on the top of the steering wheel, and I think about it. “The older I’ve gotten, the less I understand why people do anything. I guess that’s why towns need sheriffs.”

  “I’m going to be a sheriff when I grow up!” He smiles up at me, pride in his eyes. “Just like my dad.”

  My stomach tightens, and warmth filters through my chest. I’m generally considered something of a grumpy badass, but this little guy… He’s a lot like I was at his age, thinking my dad was the greatest and wanting to grow up to be just like him.

  I thought I’d have a chance to work right alongside him, but a heart-attack took him two days after I graduated from college. I’ve missed him every day since. Especially when life hits hard. Especially when I need advice.

  I went from being a student, to being a Marine, to being a sheriff, and now Owen wants to follow in my footsteps.

  “You’ll be one of the best.” I glance at him before returning my eyes to the road.

  He sits straighter, lifting his chin, and I almost grin. I had no idea when he was born how much he’d carry me through the dark times.

  He was barely old enough to remember his mom when she was killed four years ago on her evening walk. I’d mourned her and pledged to find the person who hit her and drove off without even looking back.

  Then a year later, when I’d finally worked up the strength to go through her things, I found a box of love letters from Clive Stevens, who happened to live on the very street where she was hit.

  He’d even had the balls to attend her funeral before he moved back to wherever he was from. It never occurred to me to be suspicious of her evening walks, but after that, I pretty much swore off anyone not related to me by blood. They’re the only ones you can trust, and even then, it’s good to keep your eyes open.

  “Do you know what a zorse is?” Owen looks up at me, bouncing Zander on his leg. “It’s a cross between a zebra and a horse!”

  “Is that so?” I park the truck in front of the courthouse, which houses the mayor’s office and our headquarters.

  “A group of zebras is called a dazzle. I wonder if a group of zorses would be called a zazzle?”

  He looks up at me like I would know. “Forget sheriff, you should be a zebrologist when you grow up.”

  “That’s not a thing!” He groans as he climbs out of the truck, slamming the door and trotting up beside me, slipping his little hand in mine.

  It warms my chest, again almost making me smile. I don’t smile often, and I definitely don’t hold hands, but with Owen, everything is different.

  “You can be the first.” I scoot him through the glass doors ahead of me, hoping Holly, our secretary and dispatcher, ordered breakfast—or at least has a pot of coffee ready.

  “Aiden, I heard you were at Terra Belle’s Pickle Patch.” I’m met at the door by Edna Brewer, longtime mayor of Eureka, and unfortunately my boss. “My intuition tells me something sinister is afoot.”

  “Terra would agree with you. She left her house without her wig on.”

  Edna’s dark brown eyes widen. “You saw Terra’s real hair?”

  “She had a handkerchief around her head, and she was in overalls.”

  “Only something truly sinister would cause Terra to leave the house in such a state.”

  “I suspect it’s nothing more sinister than teenagers.” I start to walk past her, but she pulls me up short with her next words.

  “Owen, your father is a good man, despite his lack of faith.”

  My jaw tightens. We were almost having a nice moment, and she had to go there. “I prefer sticking to the facts when doing my job.”

  “Magic has never let me down, Sheriff, which is more than I can say of people.”

  She’ll get no arguments from me when it comes to people, however, “Where was magic when Lars needed it?”

  Her eyes narrow. “What happened to my son-in-law was a tragic accident, but escapologists are not magicians.”

  Neither are you. The retort is on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t say it. We’re fighting old battles, and we only go in circles.

  The Brewers and the Stones declared a truce after my father died, and I’ve done my best to honor it since starting as sheriff—as long as Edna keeps her hocus pocus to herself and out of my work.

  Placing my hand on Owen’s back, I give him a little pat. “Why don’t you run see if Holly got donuts on her way in.” He takes off with a little whoop of “Krispy Kreme,” and I turn to the mayor. “I apologize for saying that about Lars. It was insensitive.”

  She lifts her chin. “I accept your apology.”

  “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t put ideas in my son’s head.”

  “Your son is very bright, Aiden.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And children are very sensitive to spiritual things. Owen’s fascination with zebras is a clear indicator. They’re remnants of a time when the world was shadows and light.”

  “No.” My tone is firm.

  She waves her hands. “I’m not trying to start a fight. I simply wanted to let you know I’ve been monitoring this rise in crime lately, and I think we need to bring in some backup.”

  My brow furrows. “What does that mean?”

  She starts for her office, and I follow. Edna is almost seventy, with silver hair that hangs in a bob to her chin. She’s dressed in a white silk blouse and tan pencil skirt with matching pumps, and in this conservative disguise, you’d never know she’s a former magician and matriarch of the town’s resident band of carnies.

  She believes in premonitions and psychics and vibrations as much as cold hard facts when making civic decisions. It drove my dad nuts, and it doesn’t make me too happy either—particularly when she drags her “psychic” daughter Guinevere into the mix. Gwen is a real space cadet, and sneaky as fuck.

  You’d think Edna would be ready to retire by now, but this crazy town keeps voting her back in office every time she runs. If the town of Eureka were a zebra, she’d be the black to my white—and I’m sure she’d say the exact opposite.

  “Someone has been nailing messages on telephone poles for a month. Last week, Holly said three of her hens were stolen. Now Terra Belle’s prized pickle patch has been demolished. I think we need someone with special training in this type of work.”

  Heat rises under my collar, and a growl enters my tone. “You’re not to call in additional officers without consulting me.”

  “I’m consulting you now. Doug’s pushing sixty, but even if he was younger, you know he isn’t up to this type of work. You could use the help.”

  I’m annoyed she’s right. Still, the last thing I need is some new person coming in, getting in my way, asking a bunch of questions—or worse, another kooky mystic reading tea leaves and being totally loyal to Edna.