The Skeleton Makes a Friend (A Family Skeleton Mystery)
Diversion Books (November 6, 2018)
Paperback: 280 pages

Synopsis

Georgia Thackery is feeling pretty good about her summer job teaching at prestigious Overfeld College, and she’s renting a rustic cabin right by a lake for herself, her daughter, Madison, and her best friend, Sid the Skeleton. Together again, the trio are enjoying the quiet when a teenager named Jen shows up looking for her friend. Georgia doesn’t recognize the name, but she learns that the person Jen was looking for is actually Sid.

Sid reveals that he and Jen are part of a regular online gaming group that formed locally, and one of their members has gone missing. Sid admits that he might have bragged about his investigative prowess, enough so that Jen wants him to find their missing player. Given that Sid doesn’t have many friends offline—none, really, unless you count the Thackery family—Georgia agrees to help him search. They manage to discreetly enlist Jen, who lives in town, and follow the clues to… a dead buddy.

Now they’ve got a killer on their hands. Probing the life of Sid’s friend, they realize a lot is wrong both on campus and in the seemingly quaint town, and someone doesn’t want them looking deeper.

Excerpt

Sid unzipped the rest of the way, pulled himself out of the suitcase and back together, and tried to turn the knob. “It’s locked.”

“Can you open it?”

“Easy peasy,” he said, pulling a set of lock picks from inside the suitcase. My locksmith sister Deborah probably hadn’t realized that teaching my daughter Madison how to pick locks was tantamount to teaching Sid. Madison had shared everything she’d learned with him, and he’d promptly ordered his own picks online. “You really should learn to do this, Georgia. It’s not that hard.”

Despite his assurance, it seemed to take an awful long time to get the door open. Or maybe it just seemed like a long time because I kept looking down the stairs, worried that somebody would hear us and come to see what was going on.

Finally there was a loud click, and Sid said, “Nailed it!” He opened the door, and cold air streamed out.

“Brr!” I said. “Wouldn’t you know that a department with everybody on vacation would be the one with overachieving air conditioners?” The window unit in my classroom had gone out twice. “Not to mention the waste of electricity.”

“You can complain about it later,” Sid said. “Come on.”

I followed him into the human resources department, pulling the empty suitcase along.

There were four more closed doors: three offices labeled with names and one marked File Room.

“Here we go,” Sid said, using his picks on one of the office doors.

This lock was easier to deal with, which was a relief, but unfortunately, the smell seemed to be coming from that office. “I’m going in.”

“Remember what I said. Get in, look around fast, get out.”

“Got it.” He stepped inside.

Between the cold, the horrid stink, and the fear of being caught, I was hoping that Sid would be swift, but I was surprised when he came out in under two minutes. “That was fast. Did you find something?”

“Don’t go in there.”

“I wasn’t going to—”

Then I looked at him.

He shouldn’t have been able to look like anything but bone-colored, but somehow he seemed paler than usual, and his bones were so loose he was nearly falling apart. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s in there. At least I think it’s him.”

“Did he see you?” I said stupidly.

He slowly shook his skull, and only then did I realize what it was we’d been smelling.

About the Author

Leigh Perry is the author of the Family Skeleton Series: A Skeleton in the Family, The Skeleton Takes a Bow, The Skeleton Haunts a House, and The Skeleton Paints a Picture.

Website * Facebook * Sid’s Twitter

My Alter Ego

Toni L.P. Kelner

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Title: Chasing Shadows
Author: Catherine Bybee
Release Date: November 13, 2018
Publisher: Montlake Romance

Synopsis

Avery Grant doesn’t date. Her first marriage was a mutually beneficial contract that gave her the financial freedom she needed to step away from her controlling parents. Wealthy and single, the last thing she’s looking for is love sneaking in to mess up her life plans. And after a brutal attack, she’s determined to never be vulnerable again, even if the new man in her life helps her feel safe.

Mesmerized from the moment he sets his eyes on Avery, Liam is driven to learn everything about this tough, sexy, challenging woman. Breaking down her defenses won’t be easy, but Liam refuses to be pushed away. All he needs is a tiny crack in Avery’s armor to wiggle his way into her heart.

But when a terrifying lie about her attacker’s fate comes to light, Avery’s past returns to haunt her. Now she’s willing to put herself in danger to get the answers she needs. That means jeopardizing the best thing that’s ever happened to her: Liam.

Excerpt

Avery’s head shot up at the sound of a female voice calling her name.

“Lori?”

Oh, damn…

When Lori was at their table, Avery detached from Liam’s side and stood for a hug. “What are you doing here? Where’s Reed?”

Lori eyed Liam while she answered the questions. “Reed’s on his way down. We’re going out to dinner. Wanted a drink first.”

What were the chances of Lori excusing herself before Avery was forced to make an introduction?

Lori reached out a hand toward Liam. “I’m Lori.”

Liam stood; a broad smile matched his broad chest. “Liam Holt.” Once he released Lori’s hand, he pulled out a bar stool. “Sit, we just ordered drinks.”

Avery wanted to elbow his ribs.

Instead, she smiled.

Liam signaled for Nikki.

“Liam, huh? Avery hasn’t mentioned you.”

He pulled Avery’s chair closer to his and waited for her to sit. “We haven’t known each other long.”

Lori sent a questioning look to Avery. Instead of adding to Liam’s explanation.

“I’ve known Lori for a few years. We live in the same building.”

“What do you do, Liam?”

Small talk … is that what this was going to be?

Lori signaled Reed when he walked in the door. “This is my husband.”

Avery laughed. “You love saying that, don’t you?”

Lori nodded.

“They’re newlyweds,” Avery explained.

Once again Liam stood when Reed approached the table.

“Look who I found,” Lori said.

Reed kissed Avery’s cheek. “I haven’t seen you here in a while.”

“That’s because you two never come up for air,” Avery teased.

“This is Liam … Avery’s friend.” Yeah, Lori wanted more details.

The men shook hands.

“Have I ever met one of your friends?” he asked.

Avery glared. “Smooth, Reed … really smooth.”

Lori nudged her husband’s arm. “Stop teasing.” She turned her focus on Liam. “Avery keeps her private life private.”

Avery tried not to flinch when Liam placed a hand over hers. “I’ve figured that out recently.”

“How did you two meet?” Reed asked.

Avery said “the gym” at the same time Liam said “a bar.”

Lori’s lawyer radar spiked. Avery saw it in her eyes. “Those two things are worlds apart.”

She caught Liam’s hand and squeezed.

“The first time I saw you was at Pug’s Bar. I approached you at the gym.”

“I knew it. That was you at Pug’s. How did you figure out where I worked out?” She’d been asking herself that question for over a week.

“That wasn’t hard. Leslie had a gym bag.”

“Who’s Leslie?” Lori asked.

Avery didn’t look away from Liam. “A friend. So your job at the gym wasn’t on accident?”

“I might have approached Brenda about a side job so I could meet you.”

Avery’s jaw dropped.

“Who’s Brenda?” Reed asked.

“The owner of the gym,” Avery and Liam said at the same time. “How did you know I was there on Tuesday and Friday nights?” She wasn’t sure if his actions were exciting or scary.

“Appointment book. Brenda’s office is always open.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Lori placed a hand between the two of theirs. “You see Avery in a bar. You search out a location of her gym, follow her to it, get a job there, and now you’re both here having drinks?”

Liam offered a brief, unapologetic nod.

Lori grabbed Avery’s hand. “How well do you know this guy?”

Avery liked the gleam in Liam’s eyes. “He’s safe.”

“What he just described is a little too close to stalking for my taste.”

Reed placed a hand on Lori’s shoulder. “Simmer down, Counselor. If Liam had an ulterior motive, he wouldn’t have told us all that.”

“I wanted to meet you,” Liam said. “

Yeah, well, you’ve met her.” Lori wasn’t happy.

Nikki showed up with Avery’s and Liam’s drinks.

“My usual, Nikki,” Lori told her.

“Hon, our reservations are in thirty minutes. Maybe we should go.”

Lori looked at Reed like he was crazy. “We aren’t leaving him with her. He could be a sociopath.”

Liam smiled, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “I’m not.”

“That’s what they all say.”

Avery put a free hand in the air. “Chill, Lori.”

Avery realized that her other hand had somehow ended up back in Liam’s. His thumb stroked the underside of her wrist in a strangely calming way.

“Do you want a drink, Reed?” Nikki was still standing there, watching the four of them.

“No, thank you. We’re leaving.”

Lori pushed back her chair. “We’re going to talk about this later,” she warned Avery. “And you … just so you know, I’m an attorney, and my big, burly husband here is in private security. He has even bigger friends.”

Liam reached into his back pocket and removed his wallet. From it, he pulled out what looked like a business card. “I have nothing to hide.”

Lori glanced at it briefly before Reed snatched it from her fingertips. “C’mon. Let’s leave them to their date.”

Liam stood again and shook Reed’s hand before he ushered Lori out of the bar.

“That was intense.”

“My friends are protective.”

“Understatement.”

“You really went through all that just to meet me?”

Liam picked up his cocktail for the first time. “Worked, didn’t it?”

Avery let loose his hand and lifted her glass to his. “Yes, it did.”

About the Author

New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author Catherine Bybee has written twenty-eight books that have collectively sold more than five million copies and have been translated into more than eighteen languages. Raised in Washington State, Bybee moved to Southern California in the hope of becoming a movie star. After growing bored with waiting tables, she returned to school and became a registered nurse, spending most of her career in urban emergency rooms. She now writes full-time and has penned the Not Quite Series, the Weekday Brides Series, the Most Likely To Series, and the First Wives Series.

Website * Facebook * Twitter * Goodreads

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Synopsis

Exclusive

When little-known writer Taylor Scott is granted two weeks to interview a famous reclusive author, it’s the opportunity of a lifetime. So is the chance to rekindle her friendship with Mike Greene, who happens to be the author’s assistant. But as feelings deepen and time winds down, Taylor will have to choose between the story that could launch her career and an unexpected chance at love.

A Touch of Heaven

As Regan Amerson makes the emotional decision to sell their family home, her mother wins a home makeover from a reality TV show. Regan is furious, and jaded host Sawyer Bennett isn’t thrilled either. That is, until he meets Regan—and finds himself enamored by the fiercely independent beauty. She may want nothing to do with him, but Sawyer isn’t one to give up easily…

What People Are Saying about Samantha Chase:

“A fun, flirty, sweet story filled with romance and character growth and a perfect happily ever after.”—CARLY PHILLIPS, New York Times bestselling author for I’ll Be There

“Encourages readers to sit down, put their feet up, and enjoy.”—Publishers Weekly for Until There Was Us

“Chase just gets better and better.”—Booklist

“Classic, thoughtful, and as lyrical as the stars.”—Kirkus Reviews for A Sky Full of Stars

Excerpt from Exclusive

The flight was uneventful and Taylor’s pleasure was prolonged by the fact that the car rental agency did, indeed, have a car waiting for her and she was checked in efficiently. Taking the keys from the rental agent with a smile, she was thrilled to see the sporty white SUV waiting for her.

“Thank you, Newslink,” she said to herself as she climbed into the brand-new vehicle.

“Mmm…new car smell and everything!” She was positively giddy. There was no other way to describe it. Starting the car—and it started on the first try!—she took a quick look around to get her bearings. She punched the farm’s address into the GPS system and once it was ready, plugged in her iPod so she could finish listening to the conclusion of Enveloping Darkness, then pulled away from the parking lot.

The drive was beautiful and the sound of the masculine voice coming from the stereo kept her in a state of pure relaxation. If the man Jonathan Wade picked to read his books looked as good as he sounded, Taylor knew she would have found her perfect man.

Some authors did do their own readings, so for a minute, she allowed herself to imagine it was Jonathan Wade’s voice coming through the speakers. If it was, talking with him for a week would certainly be no hardship! She’d resort to asking his favorite color and what he liked for breakfast if it meant keeping the conversation going.

The voice was deep and mesmerizing, almost like a caress, like he was speaking only to her. The voice didn’t sound old, but then again, there was no guarantee Jonathan Wade actually was old. She slammed her hand on the steering wheel out of frustration and cursed—again—the fact that she had no bio to go on for this interview. If only she had a little more information in her pocket, she’d feel more prepared and at ease! How could a person be so popular in modern culture and yet have so little known about him? It was even more frustrating and intimidating to know that she was going to be responsible for presenting this mystery of a person to the world.

What if he didn’t live up to what everyone was expecting? Or, more to the point, what if he didn’t live up to what Taylor herself was expecting? Taylor scolded herself to relax already, and listened intently to the end of the book.

The sun was rising over the clear blue water. Marcus knew his time on the island was over. Had last night been a dream? Had he truly awakened in the night to the feel of skin so soft against his that it felt like silk? Were those her lips that kissed him with the kind of tenderness he’d only ever felt with one person?

Remembering her touch, how her breath felt on his heated skin, had him aching to feel her again. Why was life so cruel as to keep taking this woman from the arms that wanted nothing more than to hold and protect her forever? She had been full of heat and life in those arms last night.

There was no evidence of her now. One day, however, there would be no questions. His answer would be standing in his embrace.

Sighing, Taylor thought this particular voice was definitely one she would love to stir her awake in the night. If the man in question lived up to that sexy voice, there would be no way she’d sneak off in the night. Hell, he’d have to pry her off with a crowbar!

Feeling suddenly hot, she flipped on the AC, laughing at herself because it was October, in Maine, and the temperature outside the vehicle did not demand air-conditioning. It was her own wildly vivid imagination—and sexual dry spell—that was heating her up. Lord help her, she needed to gain her composure and be professional at all costs during this entire process in order for this piece to be a success. What on earth would she do if the man was attractive? If just his voice could make her this hot and bothered, she’d be a babbling idiot by the time the two weeks were up.

Shaking her head to break that train of thought and looking at the GPS to see how much farther she had to go, she was surprised to see she was just minutes from her destination. Feeling nervous and self-conscious, she did some deep-breathing exercises and practiced using her “professional” voice.

As if on cue, her cell phone rang and made her jump. Putting it on speaker, she said, “Hello?”

“Everything going okay?” It was Victoria.

Taylor couldn’t help but smile. If she wasn’t mistaken, her boss’s voice sounded almost as nervous as her own. “Yes, boss, all is well. I’m driving a wonderful little SUV, the sun is shining, I’m only minutes away from the farm, and I feel ready to conquer the world!” Liar, liar, liar!

“You are going to conquer the world, my dear. You mark my words. Once this piece hits the stands, you are going to be the toast of the town and you can say I was the one who gave you your first big break.”

“I’ll remember that,” Taylor chuckled.

“Good luck, Taylor. I’ll expect to hear from you in a few days.” And then she was gone and Taylor felt a little bit lighter than she had just moments ago. She could do this. There were people who had confidence in her and she owed it to them to have confidence in herself.

Feeling revived, she pressed down on the accelerator. What she had been dreading, she was now ready for: to reach Jonathan Wade’s farm and to face her journalistic destiny.

She rolled her eyes. “Geez, dramatic much?”

She very nearly missed the entrance to the farm while she was laughing at herself. It was poorly marked by an undistinguished simple white mailbox. Then again, what was she expecting, a neon sign flashing Home of Jonathan Wade? Slamming the brakes hard, she put the vehicle in reverse and then pulled into the long dirt driveway that wound through a quarter mile of dense forest. When at last she was through the trees, she stopped the car.

The house was large, yet so simple and beautiful that it took her breath away. In all her life, if Taylor could pick one house to live in, she knew this would be it. It was like something out of a magazine and yet like nothing she had ever seen before. All white with black trim, it was two stories, but she wouldn’t be surprised to find out there was a finished lower level for extra living space. If she had to define the style, she’d say it was a Victorian country farmhouse. If such a thing even existed.

There was a large wraparound porch with hanging plants and flower baskets lining it, and she could imagine sitting outside on a warm summer night just watching the sunset—it was that perfect. Although she couldn’t see from where she was parked, she just knew there would be seating areas and a porch swing up there waiting for someone to use them.

Off to the right of the house was a barn. Traditional in style but painted to complement the main house, it came off as an extension of the house rather than a utility building. Maybe it was in the landscaping, but to Taylor’s mind, it all seemed too pretty, too perfect, to be what she normally considered a barn. Even though the house boasted a three-car garage on the side, to the left of it there was a detached two-story, two-car garage—also matching the house—and just beyond that was a large expanse of open land.

Taylor could only stare. All her life she’d lived in a big city or high-population suburbs. That was where all the action was, all the jobs, everything a person could need. The older she got, however, the more she found herself longing for peace and a little solitude. Wouldn’t it be lovely to come out and sit on the porch swing after dinner and hear nothing except the sounds of nature?

A quick smack on the head brought her back to reality. “Get a grip!” she yelled at herself. “You’re barely on the man’s property for two minutes and you’re fancying yourself living here and enjoying peaceful nights on the porch!”

Pulling up in front of the detached garage, she parked and emerged from the vehicle. Closing the door, Taylor stopped, stretched, and took in a breath of what had to be the most magnificent air she had ever inhaled. So this is what nature’s like? she thought to herself. Upon closer inspection of the property, Taylor found the green of the trees looked brighter than she had ever seen; the changing colors of the leaves almost looked too perfect to be real. If she stood still long enough, she could hear the distinct sounds of different species of birds. At home, all she ever heard was the constant hum of traffic. But here, on this particular piece of land, Taylor felt as though she would be able to hear a leaf fall.

She could commune with nature later. She tried to decide if she should introduce herself before she unloaded her car or after. Stepping around to the rear of the SUV, she came up short when she noticed a man walking toward her. Taking a steadying breath, she pasted a wide smile on her face.

This is it.

He was a young man, maybe a few years older than she was. His brown hair looked sun-kissed and although it was a bit unkempt, it seemed to suit him. He was dressed for work on a farm—blue jeans, thermal Henley, down vest, and boots. He was taking off his work gloves as he approached, and Taylor couldn’t help but notice how large those hands were, and when she looked up, she was greeted with eyes so dark blue they were almost black. When he stopped in front of her, he gave her the most endearing smile ever bestowed upon her.

She couldn’t help but smile back as she held out a hand to him. “Hi, I’m Taylor. Taylor Scott.” He didn’t say a word, but once he wrapped one of his large hands around hers and held it, her heart just about beat right out of her chest. It was big and warm and just rough enough against her softer skin that all kinds of erotic images began to play in her head. There was something oddly familiar about him, and Taylor figured she’d better find out exactly who he was before she did anything to embarrass herself. “Are you…Mr. Wade?” she asked casually.

He laughed, but rather than taking offense to his response, Taylor almost immediately relaxed. “Not hardly,” he said. His eyes met hers and he knew the instant recognition hit Taylor.

“Oh my God!” she gasped. “Mike? You’re—” She stopped as realization hit her. Michael James Greene Jr. She had been right! “I can’t believe it’s you!”

“Hey, Taylor,” he said, his own posture relaxing a bit. “How are you?”

“I’m good. Wow! I can’t believe it’s you! It’s been a long time.”

“Ten years,” he said easily.

She nodded her head. “Wow, I didn’t realize it had been that long. How have you been? What are you doing here? Wait! Are you…did you…” she cleared her throat and tried to calm her nerves. “Are you the reason I got this interview?”

Placing his other hand over the one he was already holding, he leaned in a little closer. “That’s a lot of questions,” he teased. “And we’ll get to all of them—after we get you inside and settled into your room. Lunch is ready, and I figured we could talk and get caught up then if that’s all right with you.”

Taylor sent a silent prayer heavenward for her good fortune. At least with a familiar face around for the next two weeks she’d feel a little less overwhelmed and outnumbered. True, it had been ten years since they’d last seen one another, but for a short period of time, he had been a very important part of her life. It was going to be great not only to get this interview, but to get caught up on what Mike was doing with his life.

Other than working on Jonathan Wade’s farm.

About the Author

Samantha Chase, a creative writing teacher, released her debut novel, Jordan’s Return, in November 2011. Since then, she has published seventeen more titles and has become a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author. She lives with her husband of twenty-four years and their two sons in North Carolina.

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Synopsis

Merry Christmas from your new friends in Holiday, Texas:

The most celebratory town in the South!

When Jinx Jacobs’s motorcycle breaks down outside Holiday, Texas, the last thing she wants is to get stuck in the cheery little town, especially during the holidays. The whole place has gone Christmas crazy, but all she has to do is stay out from under the mistletoe—and do her best to keep that unnervingly attractive cop off her back.

Single dad and sheriff’s deputy Cash Walker doesn’t have time for romance, and yet something about the tempting loner twists his stomach up tighter than a tangle of tinsel. He may have finally found the missing piece in his life…but with Jinx so determined to avoid putting down roots, convincing her to stay may just take a Christmas miracle.

 

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Excerpt

Jinx breathed in the scent of pine trees. She’d expected Texas to be full of tumbleweeds and cactus, not beautiful rows and rows of pines. She raised her gaze to enjoy the view of Cash riding a few feet in front of her. Unlike her, he was an absolute natural on a horse. He swayed back and forth in the saddle, instinctively matching the horse’s gait with the movements of his body. He must have felt her gaze on his back; he twisted in the saddle to shoot a smile her way.

Her breath hitched. She’d never been this happy before. Never thought she deserved it. He brought out feelings in her that she didn’t know she was even capable of.

“Kenzie thinks she found a tree.” He pulled up, stopping his horse until she caught up. “Do we have enough ornaments for that?”

Jinx followed the line of his arm, her gaze resting on a giant pine that towered over its neighbors. “You’ve got to be kidding. That’s got to be at least, what, twelve feet tall?”

He shrugged and climbed out of the saddle. “Let’s measure. If we put it in the front room, we’ve got the height.”

“Yeah, but how in the world are you going to get that home?” She swung her leg over the saddle, trying to find the ground. Cash slung an arm around her waist, catching her before she tumbled into a heap.

“Need a hand there?” He slid her foot out of the stirrup and set her upright, both feet finally firmly planted on the ground.

“Thanks.” The tree appeared even taller now that she wasn’t sitting six feet off the ground.

“It’s perfect!” Kenzie trotted in circles around it on the back of her pony. “It’s the most perfectest Christmas tree ever.”

“You sure you don’t want to look at one of these?” Cash gestured around them to the sea of five- to six- foot trees.

“Nope.”

He smiled an apology at Jinx, a dad clearly wrapped around his little girl’s finger. “Let me get the saw.” He passed both sets of reins to Jinx. “Can you tie them up to a tree or something? They shouldn’t run, but they might not like the sound of the saw when I get it going.”

Jinx took the leather leads and loosely draped them around a branch of a tree. “Yeah, we’re going to need more ornaments.”

By the time Cash had sawed through the thick trunk of the tree, the sun sat directly overhead. “Y’all want to take a break for lunch before we head back?”

“Lunch?” Jinx wondered where they’d be able to grab a sandwich with nothing but trees and fields around them.

“Daddy and I packed a picnic.” Kenzie pulled something out of a pocket on the side of her saddle.

“When did you have time to do that?” She helped Kenzie spread out the blanket.

Kenzie beamed. “Are you surprised?”

“I sure am. You’re definitely making this a day to remember.”

Cash joined them on the blanket, spreading out the picnic feast. “PB&J, grapes, and Rice Krispies squares.”

“Perfect.” She meant it. The sun overhead, the man she’d been waiting for all her life next to her, and the promise of many tomorrows between them filled her heart with a joy she didn’t know she had the capacity for. “I think this is going to be my new very favorite best day.”

Kenzie giggled. “What’s a very favorite best day?”

It was a game she had played with her dad. She hadn’t thought about it in years. Hadn’t had a reason to. “Every time you have a really good day, you have to think to yourself…is this the very best day? Better than all the others? If so, then you can declare it as your new very favorite best day.”

“How many new very favorite best days can you have?” Kenzie picked a few grapes off of the bunch.

“As many as you want. But you can only have one at a time. That’s why it has to be the most very favorite best day ever.”

“And today is yours?” Cash asked.

“Yep.”

“Well then, it’s mine too.” He leaned across the blanket and kissed her on the lips.

“I want it to be my new very favorite best day too,” Kenzie whined.

Jinx laughed. “I already called it. You two have to find your own days. This one’s mine.”

“That’s not fair.” Cash nudged Kenzie. “What do we do when someone’s not being fair?”

Kenzie didn’t say anything, just sat there like she was thinking too hard. “We tell a grown- up?”

Jinx laughed again while Cash shook his head. “Not that kind of not fair. Jinx isn’t being fair because she won’t share her day. What do you say we tickle her?”

Kenzie’s eyes lit up, and she attacked, her fingers ready to deliver some serious tickles. Jinx tumbled over to the blanket, laughing so hard she snorted. This was the first. The first of her new very favorite best days. Her decision to stay with Cash and Kenzie meant she had an unlimited number ahead of her.

 

About the Author

Dylann Crush writes contemporary romance with sizzle and sass. A romantic at heart, she loves her heroines spunky and her heroes super sexy. When she’s not dreaming up steamy storylines, she can be found sipping a margarita and searching for the best Tex-Mex food in Minnesota. Although she grew up in Texas, she currently lives in a suburb of Minneapolis/St. Paul with her unflappable husband, three energetic kids, a clumsy Great Dane, a rescue mutt and a very chill cat. She loves to connect with readers, other authors and fans of tequila.

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Synopsis

The Agatha Award–winning author of Pressing the Issue returns to the Cookbook Nook, where Jenna Hart is busy decking the halls and ducking a killer . . .

The holidays are Jenna Hart’s favorite time of year, but just as she’s decorating the Cookbook Nook for all the festive events, her imperious older sister makes a surprise visit, anxious that her husband’s been more naughty than nice. To make matters worse, her father’s good friend Jake shows up on her doorstep with a frantic report that his friend has been murdered—trussed with Christmas lights and impaled with a tree star.

Worried that Jake was the intended victim, Jenna makes a list of suspects and checks it twice. Swapping her Santa’s hat for a sleuthing cap, she gets busy investigating Jake’s long-lost sister, his Grinch of a neighbor, and a stamp collector who covets Jake’s most treasured piece. When Jake himself is poisoned and nearly dies, Jenna knows she’ll have to do whatever it takes to corner the culprit before it’s lights out for Jake . . .

Includes tantalizing holiday recipes!

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Read an Excerpt here

About the Author

Agatha Award-winning Daryl Wood Gerber writes the French Bistro Mysteries as well as the nationally bestselling Cookbook Nook Mysteries.  As Avery Aames, she pens the popular Cheese Shop Mysteries. Daryl also writes stand-alone suspense which include the titles DAY OF SECRETS and GIRL ON THE RUN. Fun tidbit: as an actress, Daryl appeared in “Murder, She Wrote.” She loves to cook, and she has a frisky Goldendoodle named Sparky who keeps her in line!

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Thread Herrings (A Mainely Needlepoint Mystery)
Cozy Mystery
7th in Series
Kensington (October 30, 2018)
Mass Market Paperback: 304 pages

Synopsis

Angie’s first auction may turn out to be her last—when she bids on a coat of arms that someone would literally kill to possess . . .

Tagging along to an estate sale with her fellow Needlepointer, antiques shop owner Sarah Byrne, Angie Curtis impulsively bids on a tattered embroidery of a coat of arms. When she gets her prize back home to Haven Harbor, she discovers a document from 1757 behind the framed needlework—a claim for a child from a foundling hospital. Intrigued, Angie is determined to find the common thread between the child and the coat of arms.

Accepting her reporter friend Clem Walker’s invitation to talk about her find on the local TV news, Angie makes an appeal to anyone who might have information. Instead, both women receive death threats. When Clem is found shot to death in a parking lot, Angie fears her own life may be in jeopardy. She has to unravel this historical mystery—or she may be the next one going, going . . . gone . . .

 

Excerpt

“What about this one?” I asked, passing several oil paintings and pointing to another large needlework. “It looks like a coat of arms.”

“It does. Although about a third of the stitching is gone. I wonder if it was done here, or in England? Stitching coats of arms was more common there. Americans didn’t have family crests or coats of arms.”

The coat of arms was in poor condition. The glass protecting it was cracked, and dirt had sifted onto the embroidery. Threads were broken or missing in several places, so only part of the crest was clear, and the linen backing was torn in several places. Still, it fascinated me.

“Is that an eagle?” I said, trying to make sense of what might have been part of a bird on the crest.

Sarah shook her head. “I’m not interested in it. No one wants someone else’s coat of arms, and that one isn’t in good enough condition to sell, anyway.”

“It could be repaired,” I suggested. “Gram is pretty good at that.” I kept looking at the crest, wondering who’d stitched it, and when. Who’d been proud of a heritage that included a coat of arms? The other embroideries were from the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. I wasn’t an expert on American history, but I knew not a lot of Americans had bragged about their connections to nobility—especially English nobility—right after the American Revolution.

Or maybe the coat of arms was from another country? I didn’t know enough to guess.

“Why bother trying to repair it?” Sarah asked. “It’s not beautiful. It’s in poor condition. Its only value might have been to the person it represented, and, if it’s here, no one in his family wanted it.”

“But don’t coats of arms belong to families?” I asked.

“They were awarded to individuals, not families,” Sarah corrected. “Embroidered coats of arms originally were worn over armor, so knights could be identified when they were in competitions or battles.” She glanced at the embroidery in front of us. “I don’t see any identifying name, either of the owner or the woman who stitched it. In any case, I need to look at the other lots.” She made a couple of notes on her catalog. “I’ll bid on the four other samplers,” she said softly to me. “I’ll have to think about how high to go. That last sampler may be a budget-killer.”

“You go ahead. I’m going to wander and see what else is here,” I said.

Sarah headed for the cases of china, which had no interest for me.

I took one more look at the coat of arms. I couldn’t say exactly why, but it fascinated me.

About the Author

Lea Wait lives on the coast of Maine. A fourth-generation antique dealer and the author of the Agatha-nominated Antique Print Mystery series, she loves all things antiques and Maine. She also writes historical novels for young people set in (where else?) nineteenth-century Maine.

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Not So Wicked by T. A. Moorman

Published October 30, 2018 by GothicMoms Studios

YA Paranormal/Urban Fantasy

Synopsis

Caught in a realm they know next to nothing about, in a time where they’re hated for not what they are but how they look, these supernatural teens may find it harder to curve their bloodlust than they thought.

Like most teens, even those with supernatural powers and abilities, Elvira thinks that her days at Be Prepared High are a colossal waste of time. Especially Feeding 101, since she’s a cursed vampire that was born without fangs. She and her friends view most of the classes as useless since they never plan on venturing to the human realm. Why would they when Underlayes was made specifically for every factions’ safety, where they could roam free day or night with not a care in the worlds.

But just like her parents always told her, sometimes you’re put into situations you can’t control.

Elvira’s life takes an unexpected turn when a wizard hell bent on misplaced revenge kidnaps her and several of her friends. Not only does she send them with a one-way ticket to Detroit, Michigan, she sends them to a time when the tension amongst the races is at its highest. And having to deal with race issues is the one thing that has never even been so much as a thought to any of them and is the one course not on the roster.

But will everything they’ve learned in school be enough to keep them alive? What will they all do when racism stares them in the face? Most importantly, how will they get back home?

Books 2 Read

 

Excerpt

Chapter 1

Once upon a time… Really? I’m not starting my story off with that lame ass cliché. Fat chance. Not when my story is anything but classic. You can think of this as the life and times of a teenage vampire. A real one, not one that sparkles as though we were sprinkled with some type of fairy dust. Oh! And we’re born, not made by just being bitten, consuming blood from another vampire, or any other legend you may have researched somewhere. The bitten one is the most ridiculous theory any of us have ever heard of. I mean really, think about it, if everyone ever bitten by a vampire were to turn into one how could they ever go back for seconds on the same victim, er donor? Could you imagine how large the vampire population would be? Anyway, you wanna hear my story? Just sit back, grab a pint of blood, or milk, and have a listen.

First off, I don’t live in your dimension, I live in a separate one called Underlayes. Where the things that go bump in the night – werewolves, vampires, mermaids, sirens, witches, and so much more – truly are real. Underlayes has regular neighborhoods just like Earth does, we don’t live in a ton of dug out caves, or cryptic looking castles; besides the royals anyway. We used to live amongst you guys, but that was way before my time, and a story way too long and boring for me to bother with repeating. Just know that we all truly do exist and a very few of our number walk alongside you still. So, you may want to think about that before you lay down at night after bullying the school nerd or your shy co-worker. If they’re the silent and quiet type they’re more than possibly plotting your untimely demise and deciding what side-dish you’d go best with. Or what curse to place on you. Something my Mom should have thought about a long, long time ago.

Me? The names Elvira, yea, Mom and Pops have a sick and twisted sense of humor. Which when you come to think of it is actually a very good thing, since Mom was dumb enough to piss off a witch when she was preggers with me and my brother, Dracula (yup, again with the humor), Drake for short. During one of her many mood swings dear old Mom went completely off on an already pissed off witch; something about the witch crossing in front of her, and Mom thinking that would make us come out cross eyed (and you thought your mom was superstitious, Ha!). Miss Witch decided to do her one better and really did curse us both. I was granted with the gift of being the only vampire known of with NO FANGS! Since Underlayes doesn’t have hospitals bagged blood isn’t exactly just lying around. Why not just bite down extra hard you say? Probably because that leaves a big chunk of meat in my mouth and vampires can’t digest meat; we have a strictly all liquid diet. Why not just slit someone’s wrist and pour it in a cup you ask? If you were on an all liquid diet, would one glass a day keep your hunger pains at bay? NO! And draining someone completely dry doesn’t work either, unlike how they portray things in your human movies, blood clots up pretty quickly when it hits air; unless pumped up with nasty anti-coagulants which leave a horrible aftertaste and makes the blood nearly impossible to digest. So the blood shortage on your neck of the veil? Feel free to blame that on us, Mom and Dad had to feed us somehow during the experimental processes of properly bagging and storing the blood the way humans do. But no worries, they haven’t had to raid your neck of the realms in a long time now. The alchemist’s studied the components your scientists used and now have it down pact.

I’m not really sure if Drake’s curse is worst or pretty much just as bad. Him? He goes into a full-blown shock at the very sight of blood; fainting spells, seizures, black outs, the works. Though lucky for him rarely all of those at once. Lucky for Mom and Dad, he could still at least savor the taste and smell of it. But talk about being seriously dependent upon someone else, hard to nourish yourself when you can’t even look at your food. And as a baby? You try putting a blindfold on an infant, especially one with fangs, and let me know how well that works out for you. Ah, but it made for some fangtastic pranks when I was thirteen, which also ended in a lot of punishments. But they were so worth it!

So that’s us, Elvie and Drake, two of the only known vampires forced to live on bagged blood. Though Drake may get lucky one day and be able to savor a neck or two, as long as he keeps his eyes shut tight and doesn’t dribble.

Can’t we just break the curse you ask? Ask Aunt Flo that one. Did I fail to mention the witch in question was, and still is Mom’s best friend? She’s also a witch with more power than she can handle who needs to watch what she says at ALL times. The curse was supposedly never intentional and trying to undo it has proven pretty much impossible.

Mom, Trinity Alkaev, is a beautiful creature with a body neither skinny nor large, but what one describes as buxom perfection. Also, one of the most patient females you will ever meet, and a truly ferocious beast, fangs and all, when pissed. Dad, Borya Alkaev, is the strong not so silent type, with a chiseled chin and sculpted cheekbones in which I heard would give Michaelangelo a run for his money. Born after the creation of Underlayes, he’s only two hundred years old, so I never understood how he ended up with such a thick accent as if he just left the great Motherland of Russia. The exact opposite of Mom when it comes to patience, but the best dad any set of unorthodox twins could ask for. Neither of them were an only child, but both are the youngest and only surviving children from both of their respective lines. Many died before the dimension of Underlayes was made, some during the move. And Aunt Flo, I’m not even getting into that one. And as far as looks go Drake and I are a perfect combination of the two, with the exception of the fact that I have no fangs.

THUD. CRASH. SCREAM.

What in Hel’s name was that?

“Elvira Esfir Alkaev!” Moms blood-curling screams vibrated through the floorboards, “How many times do I need to tell you not to leave your blood bags lying around? Get down here and help me clean up this mess. And carry your brother to his room!”

Well there you have it, the usual beginning of a day in the house of Alkaev.

“Now young lady!”

About the Author

When you become a Mom, you begin to put yourself last, and your combat boots begin to collect dust. Going to your child’s PTA meetings in full Gothic, especially industrial, regalia is pretty much frowned upon. Especially by your own children, and your teens would die of a heart attack. But, one should not have to completely stop being themselves, uniqueness is greatness. So all of that darkness is put into words in her books, and designs in her jewelry sold in her Gothic Moms Dark Charms shop on Etsy and Rebels Market.

Single mother of five beautiful children, but by far more than just that. T. A. Moorman is an artist, a former violinist, a seamstress, a crafter, a writer, a blogger, a reviewer, a dark confidant and a darkly dangerous, fiercely protective friend. She still hopes to one day find her Dark Knight in shining armor, since Prince Charming would never be able to handle her. And currently broke, so go buy something of hers and tell everyone you know how much you love this book.

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Synopsis

Steffi Lockwood has survived more than most. Recovering from an assault, she returns to her coastal Connecticut hometown to rebuild her life the best way she knows how: with her hands. But starting a remodeling business with one longtime friend puts her in the middle of a rift with another. Worse, being hired by her ex-boyfriend’s mother forces her to confront old regrets.

Public defender Ryan Quinn wasn’t shocked when his wife left him, but he was floored when she abandoned their daughter. With his finances up in the air, the newly single dad turns to his childhood home in Sanctuary Sound. The last person he expects, or wants, to see working on his family house is Steffi Lockwood—his first love who shattered his heart.

Although Steffi and Ryan are different people now, dormant feelings rekindle. But when Steffi’s secrets begins to surface, will it bring them together…or tear them apart for good?

Meet Steffi Lockwood the Heroine from Jamie Beck’s The Memory of You

Thank you so much for inviting me to talk about Sanctuary Sound, I’m Steffi Lockwood. I admit, it is strange to be back in my sleepy hometown after spending so much of my youth wanting to escape to something bigger and, in my mind, better. But life in Hartford didn’t live up to my dreams. I wouldn’t say I left because I got attacked, but it was a wake-up call for all the ways that life wasn’t really making me happy. One night while watching my favorite HGTV show, I got inspired to quit my construction job and return home to start my own home renovation business with my childhood friend, Claire, a designer.

While I enjoy the quiet beauty of our small coastal Connecticut town and am happy to reconnect with Claire, my dad, and my brother Ben, my homecoming isn’t all roses and sunshine. Although my mom died long ago, I can’t help but miss her when I’m at my dad’s house on Lilac Lane. I’m also dealing with some kind of brain fog, most likely from the many concussions I’ve suffered, including the last one I got when attacked. Then there’s the rift between Claire and our other dear friend, Peyton. We used to call ourselves the Lilac Lane League and were the closest of friends. I really relied on that sisterhood (having only brothers, myself). Now I’m trying to remain neutral, but that’s not easy when I have to live and work with Claire, and she’s still brokenhearted because her ex ran off with Peyton. But the biggest regret that follows me around town has to do with memories of Ryan Quinn, my high school sweetheart—the greatest guy in the world that I was dumb enough to ghost in college.

Like I mentioned, when I was younger, I thought I wanted a bigger life. I didn’t want to be like my mom, who married and died young without ever seeing anything of the world. I wanted adventure, and to get that, I had to break free from town and from Ryan. Fast- forward to now, when his mom just hired me to convert her porch to a family room. I didn’t know she needed to expand her house because Ryan’s marriage imploded and he’s just returned from Boston with his young daughter, Emmy. Let me tell you, ours was not a pleasant reunion. I did my best to apologize and be polite, but there’s only so much shaming I can take before I push back. Still, I’m not the same young girl I was back then and I’d love a chance to make amends with Ryan. His daughter is a real spitfire who makes me laugh, too.

Whatever happens with Ryan, I know I can take care of myself and make a success of this business, especially once this stuff with my memory heals. If I can also help my friends repair their relationship and win Ryan’s forgiveness, too, I’m going to try. At the very least, I can be the kind of friend to his daughter, Emmy, that his mom was to me when I needed one. Wish me luck!

The Memory of You Excerpt

“I do understand, Emmy. Better than you think.” Steffi took the partially folded tarp and snapped its final fold on her own, then crouched to Emmy’s eye level. “I wasn’t much older than you when my mom died. I missed her so much it felt like the whole world turned into a dark black hole. Most days I wanted to jump right through that hole and follow her to heaven. I was so angry that she left me like that, even though she couldn’t help it. But I kept all those feelings tight inside, like a ball right here.” Steffi pointed at Emmy’s stomach. “Holding all that stuff inside hurt, but it made me feel strong. It seemed better than crying, for sure. Then a girl named Claire moved in across the street. She was very sweet and sporty, and I liked her right away. I was lucky because she was patient with my moods. And at the end of our street was another girl our age, Peyton. Peyton was popular, but it turns out she was kind of lonely, too, for other reasons.

“Anyway, somehow that summer we all started spending time together. We gave ourselves a name—the Lilac Lane League—and we started a journal, because Peyton liked to write. We wrote down our dreams and the things that made us mad, and the things that made us laugh. Our crushes, first kisses, all that stuff. Little by little, that knot in my stomach unwound because my friends made me less lonely. That’s how I know the fastest way to feel better is to make a new friend.”

“You’re my new friend.” Emmy’s voice sounded small and shaky.

“I am your friend, but you also need a friend your age. I know you miss your old gang, but try to make one new friend here, too. I promise there are nice girls. I grew up here, after all, and I’m nice.” Steffi smiled and brushed some of Emmy’s curls off her face.

Ryan decided to enter the conversation now, before Emmy broke down in front of Steffi or put her in a more difficult situation. He exited through the kitchen door and crossed the partially framed porch to get to the yard. “Hey there, ladies.”

Emmy snapped her gaze at him, and he saw the panic in her eyes. His daughter’s fear of him speared his chest like a sword. He’d failed at his marriage, and his daughter was paying the highest price. He couldn’t fail her, too. He dropped to his knees and opened his arms. She flew into them in a heartbeat.

He hugged her and swayed, like he’d done when she was so much younger. Steffi quietly retrieved her toolbox and took it to her van.

“Emmy?” Ryan asked once they were alone. “I’m sorry this is such a hard time for you. I want to help you, but I don’t always have all the answers. I do know one thing, though. You can’t call people names and expect to make friends.”

She cried against his chest, each tear falling like acid raining on his heart. “Oh, sweetie, it’ll be okay. We all make mistakes. The important thing is to apologize and try to learn from it.”

“You always say that,” she muttered into his shirt.

“Because it’s the truest thing I know.” He kissed her head.

“So why can’t you and Mom apologize and make up?”

He hadn’t expected that question, although maybe he should have. “It’s not that simple.”

“You always say that, too.”

If a conversation with her took this much work at this age, he could barely imagine dealing with her in her teens. “You’re all dirty from helping Steffi. How ’bout you go inside and clean up before dinner? I need to talk to Steffi for a second. Then I’ll come in, and we can figure out how to apologize to Katie Winston.”

Emmy nodded while swiping her arm under her runny nose. “Okay.”

She wandered into the house just as Steffi came back from the van to get the rest of her personal things. He stood to speak with her. “I heard part of what you said to Emmy.”

“I know you don’t want me to speak for you, but I just—”

“It’s okay. Thank you for making her feel like she can confide in you. I should’ve listened to you the other day.” He crossed his arms and blew out a long breath. “I’m in over my head doing this on my own.”

“You’re not on your own. You’ve got your parents. But even if you were, I know you can do it. She loves you. She wants to make you happy and proud.”

He nodded, although he knew he was screwing it all up.

“Well, I’d better take off. Benny’s expecting me for another training run.”

“You guys are disciplined. I haven’t had a chance to get in a good workout in three months. Pretty soon I’m going to be too soft.” He patted his gut. Granted, he was still pretty fit. He could probably keep up with Steffi for a few miles, anyhow.

“I’m sure your mom would watch Emmy if you need to hit the gym or the mean streets of Sanctuary Sound.” She tipped her head, grinning. “My brother might even like some male company now and then. He gets sick of my singing.”

Ryan laughed. “Well, you were good at a lot of things, but singing wasn’t one of them.”

“You didn’t used to complain.” She hit his arm.

He grew quiet for a second, remembering the many times he’d listened to her terrible rendition of Lifehouse’s “You and Me” in the car or on the patio. “No, I never did mind those private concerts.”

The air between them turned sweet and thick with fond memories. Holding hands, soccer footwork challenges, the first time he’d copped a feel, and the light in her eyes when he had. The images almost made him want to take hold of her hand again; his heart beat with that hot desire like it had at seventeen.

“Dad!” Emmy called from the door, breaking the spell.

“You’d better go,” Steffi said with a wistful smile before she turned and walked back to her car.

He watched her go and waited … waited … Just before she got to her van, she peeked over her shoulder at him again, and everything seemed a little bit brighter.

About the Author

National bestselling author Jamie Beck’s realistic and heartwarming stories have sold more than one million copies. She’s a 2017 Booksellers’ Best Award finalist, and critics at Kirkus Reviews, Publishers Weekly, and Booklist have respectively called her work “smart,” “uplifting,” and “entertaining.” In addition to writing novels, she enjoys dancing around the kitchen while cooking as well as hitting the slopes in Vermont and Utah. Above all, she is a grateful wife and mother to a very patient, supportive family.

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Title: Dangerous Exes

Author: Rachel Van Dyken

Release Date: October 30, 2018

Publisher: Skyscape

Synopsis

Isla made one teeny little mistake. Now she and her PI company, Dirty Exes, are being targeted by one seriously angry and furiously sexy ex-quarterback. Jessie freakin’ Beckett. But there’s no way some NFL superhunk is going to take her business away. If only he didn’t make her so hot—and bothered.

Jessie wants payback for a ruined reputation. His plan? Top secret. His hard-to-hide arousal for Isla? Not so much. Especially when they let down their guards and sneak a kiss. Like any juicy scandal, it goes so viral, so fast, that only a good lie can combat the bad press. Mortal enemies in a fling? No way. Um…this is love!

Actually…could it be?

Isla’s not faking it. Jessie can’t. As the game of let’s pretend gets real, Jessie forgets all about revenge. That’s the problem. His plan is already out of his control. Now it could undo everything they’ve been trying to build. Coming clean may be the only thing that can save it.

Exclusive Excerpt: Dangerous Exes by Rachel Van Dyken

I had her entire schedule.

I visited her office with a box of donuts and charmed her office manager, Abby. When Abby told me about her long, hellish day, I sent her to Colin’s bar and told her that she and her husband should order anything they want on me … but not before swiping the keys to the office.

And boom.

Schedule obtained.

Life. Ruined.

I grinned.

I knew it all.

Where she ate. Where she visited on Tuesdays.

Her routine was mine to memorize.

And I only felt slightly guilty about it, mainly because it was an invasion of privacy and I knew I’d clearly lost my mind if I was planning my day around driving her insane and making sure she knew I wasn’t going to back down.

For one minute.

I’d second-guessed myself.

And then I’d stupidly turned on the TV to see news of my old charity’s annual holiday gala.

And the anger returned tenfold.

Had she never taken my ex on as a client, embarrassed the living hell out of her, and basically used entrapment—I wouldn’t be sitting on my couch upset over my life’s work getting stripped from me based on rumors and bad publicity.

Blaire was in on it too.

But for some reason I blamed Isla more.

Isla made me feel like she genuinely liked me. She made me think she was real, that our friendship was real, not just a way to get at me in order to expose something that wasn’t even true.

A falsehood.

She’d thrown our friendship, or whatever the hell it was, away for a paycheck.

And I wasn’t sure I would ever forgive her for that.

For giving me a taste of what it could be like. What it should be like.

And ripping it the hell away.

I checked my watch and smiled when her Lexus pulled up. “Right on time.”

Part of me had to respect the rigorous schedule she kept, another part of me was horrified that there was another human being on the planet as punctual as me.

She jumped out of her car and grabbed a black duffel bag. Her leggings hugged every inch of skin like she was poured into them, and her bright-pink shirt only made me stare longer than necessary at the expansive cleavage getting pushed up by her pink-and-black-striped sports bra.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

Or the best idea I’d ever had?

I snuck in behind her and winked at the receptionist I’d bribed, then casually strolled right into the hot yoga studio.

The doors closed with finality behind me.

I cringed.

The last time I did yoga I couldn’t walk for weeks.

But the receptionist had convinced me this was a beginners class, that I’d be just fine as long as I had no health issues. I almost felt the need to remind her who she was talking to but didn’t want to come across like a jackass.

If I can stay in the NFL for eleven years as a star quarterback, pretty sure I can handle an hour of hot yoga.

I eyed Isla, grabbed my mat, and then rolled it out right next to hers. “Hey, neighbor.”

“Son of a bitch,” she hissed under her breath, knocking her water over in the process of trying to scurry away from me.

I grinned at her horrified expression. “You miss me?”

“Like I miss my braces and feathered bangs.”

“You? Feathered bangs?” I reached out to touch her silky black hair, but my hand was slapped away with a burning sting.

“Stop that.” She scooted to the edge of her mat and sat with her legs crossed. “You’re taking your creepy stalking to a whole other level if you’re following me to yoga class, you psycho.”

“Psycho.” I rolled the word around in my mouth and grinned. “Kind of has a nice ring to it, also maybe next time you should say that while looking in the mirror since you’re the one who basically moved in with me.”

“I did not move in with you.” Her cheeks flashed pink. “I merely saw an opportunity to drive you insane and took it.”

“And yet here we are.” I spread my arms wide. “In yoga class.”

“You gonna go to my gyno appointment with me Monday too?” she snapped, then regained her composure just as fast as she’d let the mask slip.

Gotcha.

I smirked. “It’s a dentist appointment, and though I’d love to watch you get your teeth cleaned and mouth tortured, I think I’ll take a hard pass, I hate the dentist, don’t even like walking into the office.”

Her eyes widened in fear as she hissed, “How the hell did you get my schedule?”

I just looked her body slowly up and down, then shrugged casually, as if to say I had to use different means, like my sexuality, to get it.

It was a lie.

I knew it.

She knew it.

And her blush, damn it, her blush was worth every lie I told.

An instructor in nothing but a black sports bra and black yoga pants turned on some weird new-age music and smiled at the class, spreading her arms wide like she was gathering our souls to her bosom before sacrificing them on the sweaty altar of hot yoga. She started rocking back and forth from foot to foot like she was doing a mating dance, her braid swung with her.

“What the hell is she doing?” I said under my breath.

Isla was gaping at me. “Then how do you have such nice teeth?”

“I think I’m lost.”

“The dentist. You refuse to walk into the building.”

“Does she always do that?” I pointed to the instructor.

“I mean they’re really white.” She leaned in like she was seconds away from asking me to open up so she could inspect.

The instructor inhaled deeply through her nose. “She seems really into this.”

Isla elbowed me. “Are you ignoring me on purpose? And she’s getting rid of all the bad energy.”

“Bad energy,” I repeated. “You’re kidding.” I panicked as I watched the students start mimicking her movements like there was literally bad air and energy in the room. They moved their arms and legs, and then shut their eyes. What. The. Hell. Finally my lust seemed to cool a bit, so I answered, “I have a friend who’s a dentist, he makes house calls.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course you do. And no, not kidding, this is yoga, we don’t really lift heavy things and expect someone to clap for us or pay us millions of dollars when we can throw a stupid ball.”

“Twenty-eight million, actually,” I corrected with a wink. “A year.”

She scowled and returned her attention to the instructor. “No wonder your dentist makes house visits, do you even grocery shop on your own?”

“Isn’t that what Amazon is for?”

“Unbelievable,” Isla said through clenched teeth. “You know what? This isn’t even about me anymore, is it? You’re just so bored and I’m the easiest target in a sick scheme to find some sort of meaning in your life outside of football!”

“Bored?” I repeated, hating how it actually made me feel like less of a man when she pointed out one of the things I had struggled with until finding the charity. “Nah, just … angry. Very. Very. Angry. So. Angry. That the one thing I had to hold on to was ripped out of my fingers by a bitter, selfish woman and her ignorance.”

“So I’m ignorant?”

“No.” I gritted my teeth.

Her eyes flashed with hurt and anger.

“No!” the instructor shouted in my direction. “We leave our anger at the door.”

Isla leaned in, her eyes wild with rage. “She means literally.”

“Go on,” the instructor said in a fake soothing voice. “Walk over to the door and just…” She rolled her shoulders back and forth as if my anger was weighing them down. “Leave”—she let her arms go limp—“all the anger.”

“Just like that, huh?” I said in disbelief as I stood and walked over to the door, then made a dropping motion with my hands. “All gone.”

“Don’t you feel better?” She smiled wide.

No actually, if anything, I just collected everyone else’s anger that they’d supposedly left at the door and carried it back with me to my mat, where a grinning Isla was waiting.

“Yup,” I said quickly.

“Good.” She rubbed her hands together. “Shall we get started, class?”

About the Author

Rachel Van Dyken is a Wall Street Journal, USA Today, and #1 New York Times bestselling author known for Regency romances, contemporary romances, and her love of coffee and Swedish fish. Rachel’s also recently inked a deal for her Wingmen Inc. series—The Matchmaker’s Playbook and The Matchmaker’s Replacement—to be made into movies.

A fan of The Bachelor and the Seattle Seahawks (not necessarily in that order), Rachel lives in Idaho with her husband, a super cute toddler son who keeps her on her toes, and two boxers.

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Synopsis

In this sequel to Pullen’s best selling thriller, Naked Ambition, Chief Justice Nino Castiglia is scheduled to have breakfast with the disgraced newspaper reporter Beck Rikki, but shows up dead instead.

Rikki, once Washington’s premiere investigative reporter, immediately focuses on a prostitute who spent the evening with the justice. As he digs deeper, it starts to become obvious there is more to this than murder. Yet the deeper he goes, the more he suspects he is being manipulated.

He dashes back and forth between Texas and Washington, D.C. in hopes of solving the riddle and realizes he has not only put his life in danger, but the lives of others.

What has he gotten into? This is Washington where you can’t believe anyone. In this story of blackmail and manipulation, no one would believe the astonishing truth. And just how would an ex-newspaperman who has been exiled from his profession get anyone to believe the truth anyway?

Excerpt

He rang the doorbell and waited.

“Coming,” he heard. Beck held his breath.

The door opened as far as the safety chain would allow. He could see through the small opening that he must have just gotten her out of the shower. Her hair was wrapped in a white towel and she was wearing a thick white bathrobe. Even so, he immediately recognized her from the party the night before.

“Ms. Fiori?”

“Yes.”

“My name is Beck Rikki. I’m a reporter and I’d like to talk to you.”

“What about?” she asked.

“There’s been a murder. I’m not sure you’re aware of it.”

She gasped and slammed the door. The safety chain scraped against the lock and the door swung open again with such ferocity that her extended arm motion pulled loose her hastily tied belt. It fell to her sides and her robe gaped open. Beck gaped too, looking down at her exposed body. He fixed on her breasts, her smooth flawless skin and her taut belly. His eyes stopped there as she grasped at her robe with her free hand.

He tried to pretend he’d seen nothing, but her expression revealed she wasn’t buying it.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t—”

“Was it my sister?”

“Your sister?”

“The murder.”

“Oh no.” Beck cleared his mind of the accidental striptease. “I’m not here about your sister.”

“Oh thank God.”

“What about your sister?” Now Beck was curious. But he was getting off topic. Her family life was her own.

“She has issues. Never mind.”

“That’s not why I’m here. Chief Justice Nino Castiglia was murdered last night. I think you were the last one to see him alive.”

She gave him a puzzled look. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw you at dinner last night at the resort and then you left with the chief justice to go to his room.”

He gazed into her wide crystalline blue eyes. Her face was delicate and flawless. The short narrow nose and pointed chin were offset by high cheekbones.

“Mister, Mister Rikki, is it?” she said.

Her tone changed. He had put her on the defensive. Not good.

“Mr. Rikki, I don’t know what your game is or what you’ve been smoking, but I’ve never laid eyes on this justice of yours, and you most certainly did not see me at dinner last night. Please leave.”

Beck hesitated. This was his best lead. He couldn’t lose it.

“But I saw you there. I was a few tables away.”

“You obviously saw someone, but it wasn’t me.”

Beck knew better. Why would she deny being there?

“Now please leave before I call the police.”

About the Author

Rick Pullen is an award winning career journalist. He started out as an investigative reporter and eventually became a magazine editor. In 2015 he was named runner up for editor of the year. Also in 2015 Rick was named to the Folio 100—the 100 most influential people in magazine publishing.

He began writing political thrillers in 2011. His first, Naked Ambition, was a 2016 bestseller. Naked Truth, a sequel, was just published in September. The Apprentice was published in 2017.

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