Technically, there’s only one girl on this island that I’ve been told to stay away from.
 

One.

 

So naturally, she showed up at my door dressed like a hooker at a ho parade, asking for help and batting lashes like I’m made of dumb decisions and duct tape. Which, fine, is partially true.

 

Her problem’s messy. Her story’s messier. And apparently, I’m the only dumbass on Paradise Isle stupid—or drunk—enough to get involved. All I wanted was a quiet gig keeping drunks out of the resort pool and my name out of the headlines. But nooo. Now I’m diving headfirst into the island’s sleaziest club, dodging dirty cops, and trying not to get myself killed before breakfast.

 

The good news? I’ve got backup. Al Becker and his crusty crew of retired badasses are locked, loaded, and mildly medicated. Frankie Cruz, the island’s baddest lady cop, is back with a gun, a badge, and zero patience. And me? I’m still figuring out how to keep my pants on and my conscience clear.

 

Drunk Driving is a no-brakes ride through the underbelly of paradise—where the rum is spiked, the rules are optional, and the hero is just trying not to screw up too badly. It’s redemption, wrapped in chaos, and riding shotgun with a bunch of geriatric lunatics and one morally confused ex-cop.