Captive Heart at Brantmar Castle: Mysteries of a Heart Series
Cozy Mystery – Romantic Suspense
2nd in Series
Setting – Dost Island (off the coast of Massachusetts) and the Scottish Highlands
Publisher ‏ : ‎ Independently Published
Publication date ‏ : ‎ September 22, 2025

Synopsis

Gabby Heart travels to a remote Scottish castle with her best friend, Abe—a bestselling children’s author—expecting misty views, historic charm, and quiet time to plan their next book series. But Brantmar Castle holds more than ghosts of the past. When the women are taken hostage, Gabby must rely on her instincts, her resilience, and the help of men who may not deserve her trust to survive.

Meanwhile, on Dost Island, young residents are vanishing without a trace. As those left behind scramble for answers, unsettling clues emerge—leading to a dark motive no one could have predicted.

From the storm-swept highlands of Scotland to the rocky shores of New England, Captive Heart at Brantmar Castle blends mystery, emotional grit, simmering romance, and humor, in a story where secrets run deep… and time is running out.

Two mysteries. One fight for survival. And danger closing in from both sides of the sea.

A slow-burn romantic suspense with an edgy cozy mystery twist peppered with humor, Captive Heart at Brantmar Castle is perfect for fans of strong women over 40, amateur sleuths, brooding men with buried secrets, and adventure in small seaside towns and exotic locales hiding deadly truths.

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Guest Post

Rick Payne Considers His Impressive Ability to Succeed at Everything Except Love

By Celeste Fenton

If there were a quarterly earnings report for my personal life, my board of directors would have staged a quiet but decisive coup.

On paper, I’m doing great. My business hums along nicely. People return my calls. Bankers smile when I walk in the room. I own more suits than I need and more opinions than anyone asked for. I know how to fix problems. Identify weaknesses. Eliminate inefficiencies.

Love, however, does not respond to spreadsheets.

Take Gabby.

At the beginning of Captive Heart at Brantmar Castle, if you lined up ten people and asked them who should end up with her, nine of them would nod in my direction like the answer was obvious. We make sense. Not bragging—but I’m rich, reasonably handsome, the protector. I saved her in Lost Heart in King Manor. The kind of connection people describe using words like solid and meant to be.

I notice this especially when we’re standing next to each other at events. I’ll have my hand lightly at her back, just enough to signal familiarity without claiming territory. She’ll smile, polite but warm. Someone will inevitably say something like, “You two…” and trail off meaningfully.

I never correct them.

I also never ask why she’s started stepping just slightly out of reach.

I also never asked out loud why she stiffens when Jay walks into the room.

Jay, by the way, does not place his hand anywhere. He leans against doorframes. Drinks a Scotch like he’s in a commercial. Watches Gabby like he’s observing weather patterns rather than planning an outcome.

In Lost Heart in King  Manor I disliked him immediately.

It’s not that Jay tries to win rooms. He doesn’t. Rooms lean toward him on their own. It’s unsettling. He has that infuriating calm that suggests he’s comfortable not knowing how things will end. I prefer contingency plans.

Once, I casually mentioned a recent business win while Jay was within earshot. He congratulated me in a way that made me second-guess whether it was actually a compliment. Then he turned to Gabby and traded quotes from something they’d both read.

I ordered another drink.

Then there’s Lavanda.

Lavanda does not lean against doorframes. She occupies space like it owes her rent. When she laughs, heads turn. When she’s angry, furniture senses danger. Conversations with her do not end—they detonate.

I have left restaurants early because of Lavanda. I have also followed her out of restaurants. Sometimes in the same evening.

When people ask why we don’t work, I usually say something about volatility. Different priorities. Timing. All respectable reasons.

I don’t mention the way my pulse jumps when she’s nearby. Or how silence feels too quiet after her. Or how my phone seems heavier when I don’t text her back.

Gabby is peace.

Lavanda is heat.

Apparently, I’m a man who insists he prefers peace while standing far too close to open flames.

My mother has suggested—gently, then loudly, repeatedly—that I should make a choice. As if love were a menu and not an ongoing improvisation with unclear rules.

Gabby never makes demands on me. She listens. She offers support in careful doses. Being with her feels easy. Like a spring day you assume will last.

Lavanda demands everything. Immediately. With a loud clap of thunder. Being with her feels like standing in a hurricane with no shelter and realizing you left your common sense somewhere behind.

And then there’s Jay and Gabby—together.

The storm around them is…disturbing. Their battle of wits crackles, each exchange a bolt of heat lightning. Annoyingly, the man doesn’t seem bothered by the weather at all. He steps into Gabby’s orbit like the heat and the lightning were the point.

I told myself I wasn’t jealous. I told myself I was simply…aware. Alert. Attentive. These are leadership qualities.

Later that night, I replayed their banter in my head like a security clip, convinced I’d catch something incriminating if I watched it enough times.

There was plenty.

The inconvenient truth is this: Jay and I worked well together in Scotland. No posturing. No drama. When things went sideways, he showed up. What does that mean?  I choose not to examine what that might mean.

So here I am. A man who knows exactly how to pursue a goal—except when the goal has feelings and autonomy. A man who wants calm but gravitates toward chaos. A man who dislikes Jay for reasons that have nothing to do with Jay and everything to do with timing, proximity, and the irritating possibility that he might be right for her.

If this were business, I’d step back. Reevaluate. Decide.

But love doesn’t respond to decisive leadership.

It responds to patience. Honesty. Risk.

And if I’m being completely honest with myself—which I rarely am—it might be that the thing I’m most successful at is convincing myself I’m in control…right up until I’m not.

About the Author

My writing is fueled by a lifelong love of mystery and a fascination with the complexities of the human heart. As a widow, mother of adult twin sons, proud grandmother, dog lover, and semi-retired educator, I believe I have enough real-world experience to weave imagination with insight to create stories rich with emotion and suspense.

When I’m not writing, reading, or plotting another plot twist, I like to explore small towns across America—setting out solo for month-long adventures much to the awe (and occasional alarm) of family and friends. My latest obsessions include escape rooms, mastering the perfect miter cut for a DIY bathroom remodel, training my cavalier spaniel to do a high five, and making the impossible decision of where to travel next.

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