Death is the Pits by Suzanne Rossi

(about this author)

  • Love is a gamble.

    As floor supervisor at the Casablanca Casino, Dallas Daniels can deal with trouble, even if it comes from her demanding boss. But Fate rolls snake eyes for her when the boss ends up dead and she's the main suspect.

    Pit manager Greg Holland knows Dallas didn't kill anyone. But he soon has troubles of his own when the casino manager is murdered and Greg leaps to the top of the suspect list.

    As the body count increases, Dallas and Greg join forces to catch a murderer. To prove their innocence, they'll stake everything: their jobs, their hearts, even their lives, all the while knowing that love may be the biggest gamble of all--if they survive.

    Rating: Spicy
    Page Count: 264
    Word Count: 66330
    978-1-62830-266-0 Paperback
    978-1-62830-267-7 Digital

    Excerpt:

    The pit relief glanced at his watch and scowled. I looked at my own. It read a three-oh-five. Greg was five minutes late. Very unusual. During the hubbub, I’d forgotten he’d been on break.

    Another minute ticked by. The relief paced, his brows drawn together. Finally, Greg rushed in. His face was pale and his hands shaking.

    “Sorry, I’m late, but the power outage caused a few accidents in the back. I was helping people.”

    The relief gave him the rundown on events and left.

    “What happened backstage?” I asked.

    He wiped his lips with a trembling hand. “What? Oh, backstage? A couple of staffers walked into doors and two people ran into each other with full trays of food, then slipped in the mess and fell. Time got away from me.”

    “Are you all right? You don’t look so good.”

    He shot me an irritated glance. “I’m fine. It’s been a long two days. I’m tired. Hope Graveyard gets here on time. Watch your games before Surveillance calls down with a problem. No need to spoil a clean night.”

    “Yeah, sure,” I answered a bit put off by his brusque tone. I followed his orders anyway even though questions burned a hole in my tongue.

    A few minutes later, a patron raced from the men’s room near us and stopped at the entrance to Pit One, yelling, “Help! Help! He’s dead!”

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Death is the Pits

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