Northwind (Robert Hoon Thrillers, #1)

by J.D. Kirk

For a man who’d never visited the country, he was as Welsh as rarebit and sheep shagging.

“What in the name of all that is fucking holy is that?” Chuck’s eyes flitted to the drink. “It’s a Flamingo Frappuccino.” “Sorry? It’s a what?” “It’s a Flamingo Frappuccino.” “No, I heard the fucking words you said,” Hoon replied. “I just didn’t understand them, or why you’d be drinking what appears to be the contents of the Pink Panther’s ballsack.”

“Oh aye, I’m all fucking candy drops and unicorn cocks,”