Smoother Than Spumoni

By Marilyn Barr

Susie Larkin is a dolphin shifter and heir to the humble Larkin's Dairy Dip on Seagrass Island, FL. Pedaling ice cream from bicycle carts on the beach is just a stepping-stone for this future CEO of a frozen confection empire—or so she hopes.
Frank Paulino Jr. receives his first taste of freedom from Strawberry, KY in a summer internship at Bart's Oyster bar. His pasta creations save the restaurant when red tide poisons the fresh fish of the bay, making him the most popular werewolf on Seagrass island.
Frank and Susie uncover a conspiracy that threatens not only the wildlife of the area, but also their lives. Can these two shifters put their ambitions aside long enough to give their relationship a chance, or will Frank pay the ultimate price to protect Susie and the island she loves?

• Language: Unknown
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Aug 23, 2021
• ISBN: 9781509237661

Marilyn Barr

Biography Marilyn Barr currently resides in the wilds of Kentucky with her husband, son, and rescue cats. When engaging with the real world, she is collecting characters, empty coffee cups, and witchy things. She would love to hear from readers via her website https://www.marilynbarr.com/ where you can get a free book from her! http://www.marilynbarr.com

Book preview

They move quickly, efficiently, and silently, only stopping to check over their shoulders every few minutes. When the exchange is complete, the truck starts again. Even though it is dark, without headlights they navigate unerringly through the native swamp.

That was weird. You thought it was weird right?

Yeah, I want to know what is in those barrels.

Let’s leave it alone. We have been gone for months and have no idea how this area has changed. Let’s go home and ask our parents or Wilson.

Why? When one look at the label will answer all our questions? Besides, the truck has already left.

They could return.

As shady as they were acting, they aren’t coming back. Come on—

No way, Susie Q. We are going home. Her voice shakes as she lays down her ultimatum. She can’t abandon me here in case I succumb to Red Tide on the swim home. However, tears have already started rolling down her cheeks. My bestie is terrified.

You are right. Let’s go ask, I say calmly. Why upset her more when I can bring a braver companion tomorrow? Surely a demon-slaying werewolf won’t be scared of a few barrels?

Praise for Marilyn Barr

Original? Yes, in this day and age, it’s hard to find a shifter romance that isn’t like the rest, but the Strawberry Shifters series is indeed different.

~N. N. Light’s Book Heaven Reviewers

I now officially love Strawberry, Kentucky, and the author Marilyn Barr! This was my first novel by Barr, and I have to say I thoroughly enjoyed it. The paranormal story was unlike any other I’ve read, and it was such a great read. The shifter aspect was pitch perfect throughout the novel.

~HeyitsCarlyRae Book Reviews

The characters were complex and drawn with care, making them easy to root for and empathize with. A unique setting and vivid descriptions totally pulled me in (the bad guys were terrifying in the best way!)

~April the Book Dragon

Smoother Than Spumoni

by

Marilyn Barr

One Scoop or Two Series

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

Smoother Than Spumoni

COPYRIGHT © 2021 by Patricia AS Reuther

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [e-mail]

Cover Art by Tina Lynn Stout

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Edition, 2021

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-3766-1

One Scoop or Two Series

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

To all the women waiting for their Italian Guy who dances in the kitchen to find them…

Chapter 1

Thank goodness I drew the short straw again. If not, I would have to tell my bestie, Jean, about him—the Italian-looking man who appeared on the beach earlier this week. Just thinking about him makes my heart race. It is worth pushing the heavy Dairy Dip cart through the sand to watch him play volleyball with the other locals who work at Bart’s oyster bar.

He must be a new member of the kitchen staff because the locals never mix with the tourists. For the last few days, I’ve sold delicious cones of ice cream to tourists while ogling the mouth-watering stranger. This is the life.

You have a lot of explaining to do when you get back, Susie, Jean calls after me as I let the door to the ice cream parlor slam. Her sultry voice carries in the Florida breeze reminding me that the dark-haired beauty would ruin my chances of attracting the stranger’s attention.

Until I make contact, he is my secret. Since I am going inland, to Florida State University’s Master of Accounting Program in the fall, a low-maintenance summer fling is all I can handle.

My family has owned Larkin’s Dairy Dip on the north end of Seagrass Island for generations. It is a part of the shopping district that funds the isolated existence of our group as native to the island as its namesake seagrass plants, the Seagrass Animal Shifter Pack. Today my mother and Jean are running the main ice cream parlor. We have an agreement with Big Island Bungalows, the biggest resort in the middle of the island, for one bicycle cart to sit on their private beach.

My father will be selling there today. I will travel further with a second cart to sit at the south end of the island at Bart’s Oyster Bar until the dinner shift begins. This is my third day traversing the island on US789 that connects the small gulf islands to Bradenton and Sarasota on the mainland. As long as I am on the road, the heavy cart glides as smoothly as an ice cream churn.

Seagrass Island is narrow with two strips of pastel-colored buildings no taller than three stories. Vacation bungalows, tiki bars, and souvenir shops dominate both sides of US789 while the ocean peeks between them as I pedal past. The cool ocean breeze lifts my hair creating the illusion of the bike helmet I always forget to wear. Waves crash, seagulls call, and my cart’s wheels whine against the pavement.

No one else is out at this early hour because the locals are setting up the magic for the tourists. The early-rising tourists are either jogging or collecting conch shells on the beach. It is like I have the island to myself.

I have missed the serenity of island life. During the school year, I get depressed if I stay on the mainland campus for too long. I need to escape to the water, even if it is to sit quietly on the beach to watch the waves. Seagrass Island shifters need water like humans need air. Not just my family but almost every member of the Seagrass shifter pack can be traced back to one ancestor: Boto Encantado the Dolphin Shifter. Our pack’s greatest achievement is burying him in South American mythology with no records of his descendants. We are hidden in plain view.

Boto lived in the Amazon river basin as an outcast from a native tribe for his ability to shift into a dolphin. He had various lovers due to his irresistible looks and charm, one of which migrated to Seagrass Island Florida, birthing our pack. The shifter genes are dominant in every offspring so every pack member linked genetically to him can shift into a dolphin, including my family and Jean.

While exposing our secret to the world would make us instant science projects, having an incestuous community is, well, gross. Some generations back, we joined a league of shifter packs for more social opportunities like summer internships for shifters my age. Luckily for me, none of the other packs have the same DNA lineage.

My attention is jolted to the present when I leave US789 for the sand-covered path behind Bart’s. Trudge, trudge, trudge, sheesh, the bicycle cart is extra heavy today. We always bring a full drum of chocolate and vanilla, but the other four drums are usually partially filled with what hasn’t sold at the Dairy Dip.

Since our island has been plagued with Red Tide, we have half the normal tourists. This summer less ice cream is selling. I am stuck pushing full drums of Neapolitan, Butter Pecan, Raspberry Sorbet, and Creamsicle instead of lighter partial drums.

The cart whines as I dismount the bike to throw my body behind its mass. The only way to coax it through the dry sand is to lean my backside on it.I push with all my weight before the cart gives way and I go tumbling into the sand. Someone must be pulling it from the other side. Thanks for the help, but a little warning would have been nice, I grouse through my veil of blonde curls as my hair flips into my face.

Blame Frank, says Troy over my head. He wouldn’t let us continue playing until we helped you. Troy is the son of the oyster bar owner, Bart, and proclaims to be my soulmate. Ugh. It was a joke when we were five, but it got old by the time we turned ten.

No shifter male knows who his soulmate will be until his sixth sense develops around age twenty-five, when he’s able to smell her pheromones. While most shifter females grow up dreaming of being cinnamon or lilac scented, I want nothing to do with it. I have career dreams that don’t involve vacuuming in my pearls.

Troy is a nice friend whose parents grew up in different packs so he is a potential match. However, I hope the guy who I’ve known since I was in diapers belongs to someone else. This feeling amplified when tall, Italian-looking, and handsome appeared on the volleyball court.

Sitting in the sand, I sputter, Frank who?

Sorry, I’m…Jun…err…Frank. The voice comes attached to a bronzed hand which I gladly accept. I flip my hair back as I reach my full height to take my first close up look at the Adonis I had been drooling over. Now it’s my turn to stutter—but in amazement.

His brown eyes hold ribbons of black creating a whirlpool a girl could get lost inside. His dimpled smile is resting on a stubbled jawline as if he were failing at concealing a secret pirate identity. He raises his other hand to smooth back his thick black hair that has curled over his forehead.

There you go, Suz, Troy says, breaking