As Interpol expert Louisa Mangotti is learning, ghosts watch over Venice. Can she trust them—or her ex-lover—when spirits offer confusing clues to solve a double murder in this sexy paranormal mystery?
Lagoon Lure
What Happens In Venice
Book Two
Diana Cachey
ISBN-13: 978-1500334529
ISBN-10: 1500334529
LCCN: 2014911793
Number of pages: 160
Word Count: 40,000
Tagline:
As Interpol expert Louisa Mangotti is learning, ghosts watch over Venice. Can she trust them—or her ex-lover—when spirits offer confusing clues to solve a double murder in this sexy paranormal mystery?
Book Description:
Lagoon Lure resumes the story of Interpol expert Louisa Mangotti’s Venetian exploits and the paranormal assisted murder investigation she began in Love Spirits.
Still unnerved by the notion that Venetian ghosts are real, Louisa delves further into the deaths of two glassmakers while juggling the lustful manipulations of her ex-lover, Matteo, whose role in the murders grows murkier.
Meanwhile Louisa’s usually shy sister, Barbara, explores her newfound sexuality with Venice’s willing men, sharing her adventures with her sister but keeping one particularly mysterious man a secret.
When Louisa’s best friend, “Rouge,” arrives for Carnival to sample its masked men, she complicates the situation further by encouraging the sisters to embrace the pleasures of Venice.
Paranormal clues and apparitions lead Louisa deeper into the lagoon and she is forced to reluctantly enlist Matteo’s support. Can she trust him, or will this ghostly lagoon lure prove deadly?
Back Cover Copy:
Venice has its ghosts. They haunt its byways and canals. They linger on its numerous bridges and waft through its beautiful architecture—and they’ve taken a definite interest in Interpol expert Louisa Mangotti.
In Lagoon Lure, Louisa continues investigating the murder of two glassmakers she began in Love Spirits. Guided by clues sent from otherworldly sources, she struggles to determine what role her seductive ex-lover Matteo played in the deaths, constantly tempted by his handsome looks, his charm, and the volatile chemistry between them.
While Louisa is led by the ghosts to a sunken ship in the murky lagoon, her sister, Barbara, and best friend, “Rouge,” embark on their own carnal explorations of Venice, sampling the men who flock to Carnival.
Amid corruption, conspiracy, and Venice’s legendary sexual energy, it’s all Louisa can do to think straight, let alone untangle this web of mystery. The ghosts, however, want her to persevere.
EXCERPT #1 (393 words):
Venice always delivered. For thousands of years she spread out her bounty for swarms of people who feasted upon her beauty. They stayed in ornate palaces or luxury hotels and paraded in stylish fashions. They admired diverse art, listened to sweet music, sampled delicious food.
They also enjoyed plentiful romantic opportunities.
Ah, the romantic allure of Venice. It continues to this day. Indeed, soon after Barbara’s arrival, Venice offered her no less than three handsome men. Now there stood her sister, Louisa, who begged to hear the dirt on two of them but knew nothing of the third man, the one Barbara wanted most. She planned to keep him a secret.
Barbara looked around and tried to take it all in, all that Venice had to offer. She saw in front of her a small island, which sat placidly in the lagoon and proudly displayed its huge monastic bell tower. Although a massive presence, this tower was easily dwarfed by the one it faced — the more famous one — the one that housed the bells of San Marco. She gazed across the water, let the reflecting sun’s rays warm her face and both Venetian towers began to toll their bells behind her and before her. They echoed across the lagoon, reverberated throughout the tranquil setting. Barbara took note of the bells. She’d been trained by her Italian friends to pay particular attention to what she’d been the thinking in that precise moment these bells began to chime.
She’d been thinking about secrets. That third man. He must remain her secret.
Thus began her diversion, a long philosophical theory about her twin orange cats.
“Back home in Seattle,” she said, “my cats confuse and distract me during morning meditation, just like those two Venetian men did my first night in Venice. The two inquisitive cats circle my cushion then jump on the table where I offer blessings of flowers and candy. They sniff and inspect as if they’ve never seen the ritual before.”
Louisa yawned.
“Those cats seem to see me anew each day, as a thing they need to supervise, approve or inspect. Eventually, they settle nearby to meditate on their own. They observe my struggle to quiet my mind while they remain perfect little meditators. Those two Venetian men were the same. While I was nervous and disquieted, they just purred.”
Louisa frowned.
EXCERPT #2 (1000 words):
Once they reached the dive site, Matteo, ever the expert captain, dropped anchor and secured it. He even politely and patiently walked Barbara through some boat safety issues. After suiting up, Louisa glanced back at Barbara and again saw that faint look of pleasure on her face. Her three-way on Lido did something to that girl, thought Louisa before she rolled back over the side of the boat and into the cold Adriatic waters. She gave the signal to begin their descent. As Louisa grabbed the rope to pull herself down to the shipwreck, barnacles cut her fingers and small fibers stung her palms. She cursed herself for forgetting her dive gloves. Given the icy water, it was a stupid mistake. She winced from the pain as she pictured her gloves lying dormant on the hearth, where she left them drying after yesterday’s dive, her first ever in the murky waters of the Venice lagoon. Matteo, her dive buddy, was entering the water behind her so she had to move fast down the rope despite the pain in her hands.
Finally her fins hit the wreck and with algae billowing up, she lowered herself down. From extensive research of the vessel, they learned that entry would be easiest at the cargo hold area but in near zero visibility she couldn’t see either the bow or stern. She needed to reorient based on rope slack but Matteo was already descending it. So with little time to waste, she used her injured hands to negotiate the wreck. Silt filtered through her fingers, gently coated her hands and washed across her face. She brushed it off her dive mask, tucking loose strands of blonde hair back into her hood.
She found an open hatch and looked back to check on Matteo before penetrating the wreck. She could barely see him. Matteo’s careless movements had stirred up quite a bit more algae and she began to seriously question her decision to dive with him today. Yet anticipation and curiosity called her into the wreck anyway. Once inside the enclosed, clouded space, she waited for Matteo and tried to quiet her nerves.
During those few minutes, she felt a rush of nausea. Her intuition urged her not to dive with Matteo, an inexperienced diver and someone who could not be trusted to think soundly on land. Ignoring her intuition, she refused to let it stop her from diving today. It wasn’t the first time she had trusted him to her dismay. When Matteo joined her inside the wreck, they entered the main cabin where visibility was marginally better. Scouring the sunken boat for details, she recorded it foot by foot by mapping it on her slates.
Barely recognizable broken benches lie next to tables on their sides, earmarks of a once lively galley. The eerie scene reminded her why she loved diving wrecks — their human element. She thought about the last meal this ship might have served. Fish crackling on the stove with the scent of garlic in the air. Their dive plan was to find the main cabin then separate to search for the bridge where most likely would also be the captain’s quarters. They signaled each other to confirm the plan was on and it was ok to go. She, the more experienced and better-trained diver, would enter a small opening into a confined compartment and she turned to swim toward it. Matteo motioned he’d explore the opposite end, near a large gaping hole in the wreck, an area where you could view the open sea and a school of sardines swirling about.
Matteo had no intention of continuing directly to the bridge and when he was sure Louisa had entered the confined compartment at the opposite end of the ship, he cased the area. His eyes darted around the room, scanning it quickly, his breath slowed and instinctively and continuously he looked around and behind him. Spying some interesting cabinetry and being familiar with boats, he realized he was in the galley, began to look for drawers and instantly spotted one. He struggled for a few seconds to open it then grabbed his knife and swung it ferociously at the drawer until it relented.
Well, well, what wealth was waiting underwater to welcome me, he mused when he discovered the drawer was full of eating utensils made of what appeared to be fine silver. Not much time, lucky he was good at what he did. Anyone on this boat won’t miss their treasure; he thought and then yanked the drawer out, dumped the contents into his mesh bag and tossed the drawer aside.
Next his attention moved to what would have been the floor. The wreck being slightly tilted on its side, he knew to look for its lowest point, logically knowing that this is where any heavier objects would have come to rest. His sharp vision, trained by years of thieving and fishing, caught a glimpse of sparkle amidst the soot. His hands carefully siphoned through the settled silt and he slowly lifted an old gold chain. He kissed it thinking, my dear darling, I am so sorry you had to sleep here alone all of these years, but now that I found you I will take very good care of you, and he placed it gleefully in a zippered pocket.
A small creature moving in the corner drew his attention. A tiny crab pulled stones and coral pieces one by one into its den, a hole in the wall. He remembered Louisa holed up in a small compartment alone. At the opposite end of the ship, Louisa had been attempting to move carefully and nervously through several confined cabins much smaller than she had imagined they’d be. It was awful. She pictured the eerie scene, the city of Venice only eighty feet above her, but with visibility and confinement closing in on her, it felt more like being hundreds, even, thousands, of feet at the bottom of the ocean.
Back near the bridge, Matteo spotted what looked to be bones, possibly human bones. He stepped away from them, not out of fear, but out of respect. He was an honest thief; he would never take those off the ship. So he knelt and crossed himself next to their grave, undisturbed but by the changing currents and sea life.
EXCERPT #3 (830 words)
“Sorry, hold on,” she replied and ran to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face, gargle mouthwash, throw on sexier lingerie.
“It’s okay,” he yelled, “I love you sleepy with smeared last night’s make-up.” “Shut up and wait,” she yelled back and reminded of the smeared make-up, she touched it up. There. It looked like she just applied it.
Tom obeyed the command to wait, although what was in his trousers was about to break down the door.
Some lip gloss. All set. She answered the door, fur draped open revealing pushed-up breasts and a peek of her rhinestoned thong. He didn’t, couldn’t wait for the door to shut, shoved both hands into the fur with one hand softly on each breast and his tongue down her throat.
They stood there long enough for her nipples to register more than the cold. She begrudgingly stopped, pushed her pelvis onto his and said, “Let’s not waste any more time.” She pulled him by his scarf while walking backwards towards the adjoining room and he kicked the door shut behind him.
They didn’t make it to the bed nor the adjoining room for Rouge had felt his trouser tent and since she’d put a wool blanket in the hallway to keep her feet warm, it now kept everything warm below her as they rolled onto. Entwined and breathless, he kept the top of her warm, very warm. Slowly and seductively then alternately vigorous, he filled her insides full of warmth too. Firm yet gentle, he didn’t waste any more time.
She had not asked, “Why are we wasting time?” It was a command. One he obeyed. He continued to obey her commands. His lips being moved to various parts of her face, neck, breasts, tummy and on and on, all the way to her toes. She worked on him too, being a little less gentle and not using her lips but something else in all of those areas.
Next she demanded to be spanked, for which she returned the favor countless times before they moved to the bedroom. Since the bathroom was on the way, they stopped in for a shower, its hand shower appliance being very handy indeed. He didn’t last long in the shower, but she did.
The bed was eventually taken over with their long awaited entrance, which he staged as he draped her across it and covered her with lemon-scented tasting oil. They had a lengthy day ahead of them. So they napped. Briefly. Tom couldn’t sleep and he wouldn’t let her. By now it was dusk and she lit candles, which gave Rouge another idea for a symphony of wax. It’s going to be a good trip, she thought and walked to bed with the candle.
Tom’s reality reached out and scratched that record when he saw the candle. “Is it dark already? I gotta go. My wife is gonna kill me,” he said.
“Oh baby. What happened?”
“I’m supposed to take her friends in my boat to a Carnival ball tonight.” Rouge’s symphony turned into nails on a chalkboard.
I wanna go to the Carnival ball, she wanted to whimper. Instead she listened to him whine about not wanting to go. I wanna go to the ball, she kept thinking. Then she remembered she did have an invite to a ball. Barbara’s hot new Italian boyfriend, Massimo, was hosting a private affair. Somewhere. Where? She couldn’t remember the details. Screw this, I have to get ready for my own ball, she thought. More clever than Tom, she didn’t let on. “Okay, go home. Your wife scares the crap out of me.”
“She scares the crap out of me too. She scares the crap out of everyone.” He rolled over and pulled a wool blanket over his head whimpering.
“You know, she will kill you before she kills me,” Rouge said slyly. “Worse. She’ll let you live.”
“Ohhhhhh.” “I’m taking a shower and putting on Cleopatra. It’s time to get my Carnival on. You driving me or not?”
“Yes,” he moaned from under the covers.
“Then get your butt in the shower. Now.”
“Noooo,” he said. He knew he sounded infantile but these two women, his wife and Rouge, had that effect on him. It wasn’t difficult for any woman to have that effect on him. “See you in a few minutes?” he begged and grabbed to pull her back. With what little strength he had left after their frenzy, he failed in his attempt to hold on to her. “All-right,” he mumbled. He dozed off thinking what a shame that they were extremely compatible but could never be together. He knew they were soul mates. Sexually.
While he snoozed, Rouge became Cleo. Madonna went all Cleopatra at the super bowl performance, recalled Rouge. So she’d been told for she couldn’t force herself to go to the popular Venetian bar where Americans watch championship sports.
Rouge, now turned Cleopatra, was soon ready for the ball.
Love Spirits
What Happens In Venice
Book One
Diana Cachey
Genre: Romance/paranormal.
ISBN: 1481031767
ISBN: 9781481031769
Number of pages: 160
Word Count: 40,000
Tagline: Among the romantic canals of Venice—and oh so many Italian distractions—can a stunning American lawyer and her psychic sister help the Ghosts of Venice solve a hushed-up crime?
Book Description:
Louisa Mangotti is a gorgeous American lawyer and Interpol expert who, after being offered a job working with the international crime unit in Venice, receives a mysterious postcard from the Venetian Ghosts, the ancient protectors of the Republic. But Louisa assumes her bad-boy ex, Matteo, sent it in a quixotic attempt to gain her attention. Louisa may have dismissed the ghosts, but the ghosts aren’t quite done with her.
When the bodies of two glassmakers wash up on Murano Island, the cryptic messages persist. Reluctantly, Louisa calls upon Matteo to help decipher the clues. And before she knows it, a flame that was never fully extinguished is rekindled. Sensing that her sister is in over her head, Barbara Mangotti rushes to the rescue, only to be lured away by two handsome Venetian men.
With time running out, can the two beauties solve a crime that could threaten the city of Venice itself?
Book Trailers:
Love Spirits — Take One http://video214.com/play/t6LZ8mFclEqpBCQlb11gGw/s/dark
Love Spirits — ghost story http://video214.com/play/R71iLBUayFB0CJEg02UFkg/s/dark
What Happens In Venice — A Trinity
Book One, Love Spirits
Book Two, Lagoon Lure
Book Three, Magic Island
Excerpt #1 (325 words):
From the Top of Our Great Bell Tower Saint Mark Square Venice, Italy
Dear wide-eyed tourist, Don’t go to Venice.
But if you do, don’t fall in — in a canal, in love or into Venice itself. As if you have a choice. Hear us cackling?
Listen. We came to warn you about La Serenissima, the Most Serene One, as Venice has been called since before the Middle Ages. You will not heed our warning and you will come looking for us. How do we know? It happens every time a Venetian ghost story is told.
As ancient protectors of the Venetian republic, we ghosts guard her virtues of which she has many. One reason we love her, and you will too, is that she is stuck in time. Did you know Venice functions without motorcars or trucks? We don’t like motorcars or trucks. Hundreds of tiny islands sewn together by foot bridges leaves no need for noisy, fume-spewing vehicles, thankfully.
We prefer floating.
Our classic transport is the gondola. Mostly reserved for you tourists now, gondolas are and always have been helmed by the most prestigious oarsmen in the world — highly trained gondoliers who stand while rowing through the labyrinth of canals. They don’t mind when we ride with or without you while they serenade us with opera, Frank Sinatra songs and romantic favorites.
Ah yes, romance. As one visitor put it, “It’s their schtick, a Venetian ploy, an act to get sexy with you.” It is true. Venice equals romance equals sex.
If the shadows of Venice frighten you or you feel like you’re in a dream, have fun with it, float with us. We are watching over you. We want to further your journey to a more magical life because we think a person is charmed by a trip to La Serenissima.
It could change your soul forever. Just ignore this cautionary tale. We remain in your service, The Venetian Ghosts
Excerpt # 2 (455 words): The Ghost Card
Venice kidnapped her. It stole her breath, it made her weep, and she forgave it. This trip was no different.
Palazzos flanked the Grand Canal as if playing the role of soldiers obedient to the eyes of tourists who passed in public boats, water taxis and gondolas. These old palaces sparkled on water like porcelain figurines on a glass shelf. A soft breeze rolled across Louisa’s cheeks and it rippled the reflections and transformed the scene. Mesmerized by the magic, Louisa missed her boat stop.
No problem, she thought, I’ll find another place for coffee. She refused to drink it alone in her apartment and religiously sipped her brew at one of the little cafes where handsome Venetian men worked. There were many such establishments on her way to police headquarters. When she arrived a few weeks earlier, American lawyer Louisa Mangotti hoped to spearhead the creation of an essential link between Venice police and the rest of the world. But was she leading the department into the future of global law enforcement as she’d envisioned? No, she sat shackled to a desk where she sorted and translated police data because Interpol sent red alerts and formal requests for information in English or French, not in Italian. Therefore, many unsolved crimes remained ignored in the file drawers of the lagoon city, a thriving metropolis and huge tourist destination. And Louisa? Louisa remained bored in cubicle learning about law and disorder.
According to recent updates to her sister, Louisa was focused on everything but international law enforcement anyway:
Ciao Barbara, Remember that lagoon island said to be full of ghosts where patients with the plague were once sent to die? Well many other haunted places exist in Venice too. I don’t believe in ghosts, not like you do, but I am checking out some haunts. I am checking out Venetian men too.
Because Barbara objected, Louisa promised not to explore the haunted island. But didn’t Barbara object to Louisa going to Venice at all this time? Wasn’t it just like Barbara to try to direct everything, even from afar? How much of the seemingly haunted happenings in Venice could Louisa ignore? Blame the postcard, thought Louisa. And as she thought it, a loud bell rang out. Louisa took note. In Italy, it is customary to pause and recall whatever you were thinking when a bell chimes, especially this bell, the one that echoed from the famous bell tower, high above St. Mark’s Square. The massive San Marco bell continued to sound in the serene setting, bang, gong, gong, bang, and it reverberated across the piazza, across the lagoon, to the nearby islands of Murano and Lido. It sounded authoritative and mighty. Every day. For centuries.
Excerpt # 3 (455 words):
Flights, hotels, apartments. Clothes, jewelry, shoes. Check, check, check. She’d tried on sweaters, jeans, jackets, surveyed each item to determine the most Italian look and picked only the most flattering combinations. She lined up toiletries, stockings, scarves, lingerie and make-up, but not too much, she’d buy better stuff in Italy. Cat sitters were called to assess availability and suitability. Processed food was sneered at in grocery stores for savoring of fresh Venetian produce. The voluntary time-off she scoffed at months earlier when offered it, turned out to be a perk, not a temporary discharge due to shortage of work.
For Barbara, getting to Venice was easy. Finding ghosts in Venice? Harder. Fetching Louisa and releasing Matteo’s grip? Impossible.
Louisa would scheme and stick until everyone else became unglued. If ghosts were to be found, Louisa would find them. Barbara hadn’t stopped Louisa from going to Venice so how would she get her home? Investigate the ghosts, disprove their existence? Barbara imagined her own escape into those Venetian palaces, their moldy facades toppling into canals. Those quiet evenings with no traffic, strolling along sea water, visiting quaint bars or vegetable markets that hugged tiny bridges. Foggy thoughts of Venice led Barbara to recall how Louisa had written her about a fall, not into the arms of Matteo, but into a canal. She’d slipped on the algae-coated steps leading into a traghetto that ferries passengers across the Grand Canal and the only gondolas still in regular use by Venetians. This traghetto was her daily ride to work, so exposed algae didn’t concern her. Yet, one day she’d been unable to maintain her balance long enough to avoid the dive. She’d fallen into the drink, straight out of the helpful hand of the gondolier, with her expensive Italian boots, cell phone and all.
“Venetians rallied so fast,” she’d written to Barbara. “that my shoulders barely touched the water when they lifted me out of the canal as easily as a floating plastic bag.” Her Venetian rescuers assured Louisa that all self-respecting residents fell into canals at some point in their lives. She’d been baptized, Venetian-style. The young gondolier, feeling somewhat responsible for not holding her securely enough, made up for it by embracing her tightly. With both arms, he enveloped Louisa in his goose down parka and rubbed her wet body vigorously and lovingly. Barbara smiled as she sensed Louisa’s presence deep in her heart, thousands of miles across the pond–as was the Atlantic Ocean referred to by jet-setters like Louisa. Don’t fall in again, dear one, Barbara quietly prayed, until I get there.
She tried sending those words to Louisa, knowing not whether they fell onto her sister’s distant ears.
About the Author:
Diana Cachey is a licensed attorney, published academic, and former adjunct law professor. She also holds a BA in English, and while in law school, she was the first female editor-in-chief of her university’s law review.
The author of the novels Love Spirits and Lagoon Lure, Cachey trained with several New York Times best-selling writers whose sales total more than 70 million books. She has built a social media platform with over one hundred thousand Twitter users, and her popular YouTube channel featuring secret Venice locations has received over five hundred thousand views.
For more than a decade, Cachey has traveled to Venice, the setting of her novels, on extended trips several times a year. The cafés, restaurants, and many other haunts of Venice play a prominent role in her sexy paranormal mystery-romance series about a beautiful American lawyer guided by the Ghosts of Venice in the investigation of a hushed-up crime.
https://www.youtube.com/user/dcachey
https://www.whathappensinvenice.com
@dianacachey
https://www.facebook.com/diana.cachey
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Diana-Cachey/153347544749839
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