Romance Novel Giveaways

The Amalfi Wish by Rosie Donlin 💕 New Release Blitz, Newsletter Freebie and $25 Giveaway 💕 (Women's Fiction)

2026-10-29T00:06:00.000-04:00

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She walks away from work, crosses the Atlantic, and spends July on the Amalfi Coast...

Laurel McBride knows how to make other people’s dreams come true. She just has no idea what to do with her own.

As an event planner at a Florida resort, Laurel can rescue beachfront weddings, soothe impossible clients, and solve disasters before anyone notices. But six weeks after she and five other women split an $84 million lottery jackpot, she is still answering emails, fixing everyone else’s problems, and postponing her own life.

So Laurel does something wildly out of character: she walks away from work, crosses the Atlantic, and spends July on the Amalfi Coast with the other winners.

The plan is simple—sunshine, spectacular food, beautiful views, and one glorious month in which nobody needs anything from her.

Then she meets Tore.

With him, Laurel cannot hide behind schedules, competence, or the carefully controlled version of herself who always knows what to do. And as the women settle into their lucky year, Laurel begins to wonder whether the dependable life she built was ever truly hers—or whether being needed has simply kept her from risking what she really wants.

For the first time, Laurel has enough money to choose almost anything.

Now she must decide what would actually make her happy.

Sun-drenched, romantic, and full of friendship, food, and second chances, The Amalfi Wish is the first interconnected standalone novel in The Lucky Year series.

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“We canceled the international tickets,” Piper said.

“You canceled mine?”

“Refundable fares,” June said. She had opened her phone. “I checked. I also checked the charter agreement, the insurance certificate, the operator’s safety record, the crew-rest schedule, and the cancellation terms.”

Laurel frowned. “Of course you did.”

June raised her head. “I objected through an entire car ride. Then I signed.”

Piper grinned. “We fly out of Teterboro tomorrow morning. Just us.”

Laurel had arranged private cars, villa buyouts, yacht transfers, and discreet entrances for guests who treated friction as a service failure. She had watched sold-out rooms appear for them. Standing inside one was different. Her first impulse was to ask which reservation they had displaced. Her second was to shut the bedroom door before the hotel remembered its mistake.

“How much?” Mari asked.

“Per person or total?” Piper said.

“That answer has never calmed anybody.”

June, slight and composed, pushed her straight black hair behind one ear and named the per-person share.

Mari went still. Laurel felt the old instinct rise, the one that wanted to explain the cost, offer to cover Lucía, and make the discomfort disappear before it showed.

Lucía barely paused. “Mom, it’s a tiny piece of what you won.”

“That doesn’t make it free.”

“Then I’ll pay my share when I get a job.”

“At twelve?”

“You said I was mature.”

“I was trying to make you unload the dishwasher.”

Caro neared Mari but stopped short of touching her. “Your share and Lucía’s are already in the split. All six of us voted. You can be furious tonight and board tomorrow. Those are the available choices.”

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She won the lottery. Now she’s taking her life to Paris.

In The Lucky Year, six friends split a lottery jackpot and make a pact: each woman gets one month, one place, and one thing she wants. Book Two belongs to Caro Waring.

Caro’s husband has moved out, and Charleston has plenty to say about it. She books a month in Paris, where she can eat well, shop a little, and enjoy being a stranger until her five friends arrive.

Then she meets Nadine, whose sewing program helps women find paid work. Nadine needs an auction, and Caro knows how to fill a room. Helping her also brings Caro into the orbit of Arnaud, a jeweler who makes her laugh and has a difficult decision of his own to make.

As auction night approaches, Caro’s daughter starts asking questions about the marriage, her friends turn up ready to have fun, and the trip becomes considerably less restful than planned. Caro still has a dress to wear and four minutes at the microphone.

For readers who love close female friendships, a fresh start later in life, Paris, and a romance that takes its time.

💕 To be released December 1💕

Rosie Donlin writes destination women's fiction about complicated friendships, second chances, and women figuring out what they truly want. Her books blend escapist settings, grown-up romance, humor, memorable meals, and plenty of reasons to pour another glass of wine.

Rosie lives in San Francisco.

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Here is your copy of The Weekend We Won. It reads in about an hour, and it is where the whole series starts.

Laurel McBride has run the Mariner's Crown for thirteen years and has never once been a guest. She knows which orchids are replaced overnight, which regulars want a room upgraded before they think to ask, and exactly how to say no so it lands like a kindness. There is a resignation letter in her drafts. It has been sitting there since April.

Then Andrea comes up the Gulf, the causeway closes, and a resort full of strangers becomes six women with nowhere to go.

A Charleston hostess whose husband believes she is at her sister's. An Atlanta fixer who cannot remember the last thing she did for herself. An ER nurse who keeps working through her own vacation. A widow who feeds people instead of talking. A woman who films everything and shows nothing. And Laurel, who is still holding the radio.

On Friday evening they put sixty dollars on the bar and send the concierge out for a lottery ticket.

By Sunday morning they are eighty-four million dollars richer. By Sunday night they have signed something on three sheets of resort stationery: one month, one place, one thing you have always wanted, and the other five come for a week of it.

Five of them know what they want.

Laurel writes hers on the back of a place card, in one word, and tapes it to her bedroom wall.

Her month begins in The Amalfi Wish.

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Safe in Sound by Ania Ray 💕 New Release Blitz and eBook Giveaway 💕 (Holiday Romance)

2026-10-29T00:05:00.000-04:00

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What happens when the life that makes you feel safe is also the one keeping you small?

She’s “happy,” but someone might say she’s “settled.” What happens when the life that makes you feel safe is also the one keeping you small?

Thirty-four-year-old piano teacher Riley O’Connor believes her chance to become a world-class musician has sailed. She’s content-ish with her life in Blue Spruce Hills, a quaint mountain town that is safe, quiet, and predictable. Instead of performing on stages, she teaches the neighborhood kids, hangs out with her best friend Clara, reads books surrounded by her houseplants, and rehearses like she’s about to be called to join the London Philharmonic.

Though she’d be too scared to go. Grammy called her ’Fraidy Cat, after all.

When what Riley thinks is a break-in turns out to be a dog who won’t leave, she’s thrust into a series of events that challenge her to confront her anxiety. First, the social kind: the veterinarian is incredibly handsome. And kind. And grieving his wife. And looking for someone to give his son piano lessons.

She agrees.

Suddenly, Riley is on a winter hike with a man where bears, snakes, and fatal injury are possibilities. And when an opportunity arises to accompany renowned violist Albi Drechsler, the dream she’d long ago decided was out of reach is suddenly within it. To get what she wants, she must prove that fear doesn’t have the final word. But could she actually leave the safety of Blue Spruce Hills?

Safe in Sound is a story about overcoming fears, leaning into friendship, and trusting that even when the night feels darkest, love can hold you through. If you miss your loved ones a little extra during the holidays, you’ll love this redemptive story that proves those we miss most can still find a way to make us courageous.

“Shall we begin?” Nathan asks.

And so I follow this practical stranger onto a trail with very dead leaves surrounding us—hopefully not foreshadowing—–and trees that are very much in hibernation mode. There’s a woodpecker somewhere in the distance, and the steady crunch, crunch, crunch of Simon and Max ahead of us.

I’m right back in that awful place of not knowing what to say. But maybe I don’t need to say anything? What is hiking etiquette? Is it quiet like golf? I’ve done neither, so I’m truly outside my expertise here.

Instead, I stare at Nathan’s back as I match his steps. I appreciate the way the tight blue thermal hugs his muscles. I didn’t know he had muscles. Prior to today they were cozied up by a sweater or hidden by a white coat. But, no, they’re there, and hello, hills and valleys I’d like to sink my fingertips into.

My fingers are strong. I bet massaging him would feel so… good. For both of us.

Mary and Martha, my mind is in the gutter.

I’m on a hike with my piano student. Keep it innocent, O’Connor!

But just look at the way that thermal is tucked into his green hiking pants… The hiking boots give him an entirely different persona from work or his home. It’s like with each step, his shoulders drop a little more. He’s having a conversation with Simon and—

A loud crunch to my left nearly knocks me out of my boots.

“What in the—”

More crunching and scurrying, moving so quickly I don’t even know what could be on its way to ruin my day, but I’m sure that whatever it is is about to.

I run into Nathan’s back. He whips around, his hands instinctually hugging my arms.

“Riley! What’s wrong?” The worry in his eyes whips any out of mine.

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Hi, I’m Ania Ray, an author of women’s fiction that dives into the raw, transformative journeys of complex female characters. My books force each protagonist to confront the worst of herself before she evolves into the hero of her own story.

The Cromwell Rules trilogy features interconnected standalones, so you can enjoy each book individually or follow Lily Cromwell's entire arc from start to finish. In The Cromwell Rules and Breaking the Rules, I explore how boundaries can feel stifling or nonexistent, and how we each must find our sweet spot of self-respect.

When I’m not writing, I lead Quill & Cup, a writing community that helps authors finish the stories that matter to them. Outside of writing, I’m a wife, a mom to a toddler who’d live outdoors if she could, and a tea lover (Cinnamon Apple Spice is my favorite).

If you love reading novels with relatable, complex characters and emotionally gripping stories, you’re in the right place.

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A Classic Case of Murder by Daryl Wood Gerber 💕 New Release Tour, Newsletter Freebie and $15 Prize Pack Giveaway 💕(Cozy Mystery)

2026-10-27T00:07:00.000-04:00

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Amid her latest themed event, based on Dickens’s beloved classic, A Christmas Carol, a rare-book expert’s goose is cooked…

Personal chef and caterer Allie Catt combines her love of fiction with her love of food in the scenic North Carolina mountains—but amid her latest themed event, based on Dickens’s beloved classic, A Christmas Carol, a rare-book expert’s goose is cooked…

In the charming town of Bramblewood, not far from Asheville, Allie’s preparing for a special seasonal soiree: a literary-themed dinner party that’s a tribute to Charles Dickens’s A Christmas Carol. It’ll take place at the Amber Lantern, the quaint inn recently opened by her best friend’s mother, Noeline—and the holiday spirit has even led a Scroogelike local businessman to lend his prized first edition of the nineteenth-century novella for the event.

With the voices of carolers ringing in the air and the community theater staging a special performance, it looks like it will be a happy Christmas—until the priceless book disappears and someone murders the expert who authenticated it. And if the police have their way, Allie’s lawyer friend Freddy will be dragged away in chains like Marley’s ghost…

The crime has also cast a shadow over Noeline’s fledgling business, so Allie feels doubly obliged to find the real killer among the gathered guests and local visitors—and put an end to this nightmare. It’s time to investigate them all, every one . . .

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***PLEASE NOTE: The hardcover edition has been postponed, now to be released November 24. The digital edition is available now!***

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Daryl Wood Gerber is the Agatha Award-winning and nationally bestselling author of the Literary Dining Mysteries, Aroma Wellness Mysteries, Fairy Garden Mysteries and Cookbook Nook Mysteries. As Avery Aames, she penned the popular Cheese Shop Mysteries. In addition, Daryl writes suspense novels, including the well-received Accidental Murder, The Son’s Secret, Girl on the Run, and the popular Aspen Adams trilogy. Daryl has published a standalone Christmas romance, Hope for the Holidays, a mystery anthology, and a children’s illustrated rhyming book. Fun Tidbit: as an actress, Daryl appeared in “Murder, She Wrote.” She loves to cook, garden, read, and walk her frisky Goldendoodle. Also she has been known to jump out of a perfectly good airplane. You can learn more on her website: https://darylwoodgerber.com

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A Soul's Caress: Breathe by Camelia Bennett 💕 Book Tour and $20 Giveaway 💕 (M/M Wolf Shifter Romance)

2026-10-26T06:28:19.737-04:00

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A gifted psychic, tormented by a serial killer who has the key to his mind, finds hope in a talented detective with a tortured past. Together, they will learn what it means to trust again and fall into a love they never thought they deserved.

Zayne Matthews is looking for someone to save him. His visions of a serial killer are pulling him deeper into a world of darkness he no longer has the strength to fight against. Detective Bodie Hale is looking for someone to save. His haunted past isolates him from the people who love and care about him, imprisoning his heart behind icy walls no one can break through.

But fate has plans for them. It will bring Bodie and Zayne together in a collision of emotions, forcing them to face their deepest fears. Their broken hearts will start to mend as they fight for a chance to have the one thing they thought they’d never find...LOVE.

And not just any love. A love brought to life through A Soul’s Caress.

Bodie stood and offered his hand as if it was the most natural thing to do.

"Come on. The aquarium staff is going home for the night. I'll walk you back to your car."

Zayne cocked his head sarcastically. "You don’t think I can take care of myself, detective?"

“It’s not that.”

“Oh, I get it. Porter and Harris told you to keep an eye on me.”

“Actually, they told me the opposite.”

“Then why are you doing all this? I mean, the ice cream, the aquarium, escorting me to my car.”

Zayne took a step closer to the young man still holding his hand. A burst of heat erupted in his chest. His skin felt like it was on fire. The scent of sandalwood swirling around him tempted him to give in to the undeniable need coursing through his body. Unable to resist, Zayne leaned even closer to the sexy detective.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say this was our first date, Detective Hale.”

Bodie’s expression remained unchanged, but he couldn’t hide the lovely shade of pink that was now coloring the tips of his ears.

Zayne's thumb drew slow, seductive circles on the back of Bodie's hand. He daringly slipped his long, elegant fingers between Bodie’s until their palms touched. When their grip tightened with a natural ease, his heart stuttered as Bodie's breathing quickened. Their intimately joined hands sent the most exquisite tremors rushing through his body.

"What are you doing?" Bodie whispered, his voice ragged.

"I don't know. But it feels right. Doesn't it?"

Zayne’s heart thrashed wildly inside his tight chest as Bodie lifted his free hand and cupped the side of his face. He could feel the calloused skin tenderly cradle the smooth skin of his cheek. Giving in to his body’s demands, he closed his eyes and nuzzled into Bodie’s warm hand.

"Zayne…we…we can't."

Zayne’s eyes shot open. He wrenched his hand free and took three quick steps back.

"I-I-I'm so sorry! I don't know what I..."

Bodie turned, heading for the exit, his head hung low. "It…It’s fine. Come on. Follow me."

Zayne couldn’t see the detective’s face. But he could read Bodie’s body language loud and clear.

What the hell came over him? Of course, Bodie would be disgusted. He’s a man, for god’s sake! A damn hot man who, even if he was gay, would never be interested in Zayne.

This is crazy! I’m not even gay! I’m not. At least, I’m pretty sure I’m not. I’m just tired, lonely, and fucking horny. I can’t even remember the last time I got laid. This is ridiculous. How am I going to look him in the eye after this? He probably hates my guts. He’ll probably tell the captain he can’t work with me anymore. Whatever. I didn’t want his help anyway.

“Are you coming?” Bodie asked.

But Zayne didn’t seem to hear him. He remained where he was, internally scolding himself for acting like a complete idiot. It wasn’t until he felt Bodie’s fingers threading through his that he snapped out of his bubble of self-loathing. He looked into the detective’s eyes, shocked to see a devilish satisfaction shadowed by a hint of hope in their golden depths.

“I’m not angry,” Bodie said softly, gently squeezing Zayne’s hand. “You’re tired and, just taking a guess here, hungry?”

Zayne nodded. Well, he may have read Bodie all wrong, but the detective knew exactly what he was feeling. It was nice—really nice—to finally be seen by someone. Granted, it was by a complete stranger, which was the damndest thing. Yet Bodie didn’t feel like a stranger. How was that possible? Had they met before?

“Alright then. We’ll stop for something on the way back to the station. But nothing greasy or spicy. You’ll have nightmares.”

Zayne gave Bodie a broken smile.

Oh, Detective Hale. You have no idea what a nightmare is. Trust me, junk food is the least of my worries.

Zayne could tell Bodie was trying to read his thoughts. The way a tiny wrinkle appeared between the detective’s brows and his pale eyes danced with questions had Zayne thinking hard about trusting this man with his secrets.

“Everything okay?” Bodie asked.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Well then, follow me.”

Zayne shook his head casually. “Not until you answer my question.”

“What question?”

“The one I asked earlier.”

“Ohhh. The one about why I’m doing all of this. That one?”

Giving Bodie an annoyed smile, Zayne replied, “Yes, that one. I mean, you’re a detective sent here to catch a serial killer. Shouldn’t you be out looking for clues or arresting suspects instead of buying me food and taking me to see fish?”

A smile borne from honesty lifted the corners of Bodie’s lips. “What can I say? I enjoy taking care of you. I like to see you smile. You should do it more often. It’s sexy.”

Eyes wide and heart racing, Zayne gulped down the words taking shape on his tongue. Bodie’s answer caught him off guard and left him wondering if he was dreaming.

“Come on,” Bodie whined, tugging on Zayne’s hand. “I won’t let you down. I promise.”

Of that simple fact, Zayne was now convinced.

“Where are we going?”

“Do you trust me?”

Zayne looked into Bodie’s unrelenting gaze and answered from his heart.

“Absolutely.”

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The bond between Bodie Hale and Zayne Matthews is deepening into something more than just love. Both men are learning that the world hasn’t given up on them. With Zayne’s understanding and patience, Bodie will finally learn how to heal from a past he painfully misunderstood. And, with his detective’s guidance and persistence, Zayne will begin the difficult journey of learning to control his power.

Through every trial, their hearts grow closer. But so is the serial killer they’re hunting. The detective and his musician are no longer the hunters. They have become the prey. Will Bodie be able to save the piano player who has stolen his heart? Or will his musician give in to the temptation of using his power on others, including the man he loves?

Each will draw strength from the other, a strength born from A Soul’s Caress.

Feeling adrift and alone, Bodie Hale and Zayne Matthews are broken souls. The pain of their separation has left them empty and lost. Together, they were strong. Apart, they will have to be stronger. Bodie wants to put his past behind him and bring his musician home. But can he move past the horror of his childhood and let go of his memories of the dead? Zayne needs to reconnect with his past and master his gift to protect the man who holds his heart. But will he be seduced by the power inside him and the words of a killer whispering in his mind?

Both men are waging a war to save the other. But every war has its casualties. They are soulmates trapped in a final battle where the only thing that will save them is A Soul’s Caress.

Caden Mitchell, a wolf shifter, thinks he’s on a mission to stop a deadly weapons exchange. What he finds instead is a pair of silver eyes and a body carved by sin. Erick Shaw is a struggling bartender whose scent has awakened Caden’s lonely heart and ignited a fire in his dying soul. Drawn together by an unknown and inexplicable familiarity, they will search for answers as to why humans want Erick dead and shifters wish to possess him.

Fate has brought them together for a reason. However, time is against them. Will Caden be able to save Erick from the people hunting him? Can Erick change his destiny and survive a horror none have been able to before?

Their hearts will be tempted, their bond tested. Yet, through it all, Caden and Erick will follow the longing in their souls back to the one their passion burns brightest for.

When I was young, I read books to escape the small town I grew up in. College, work, and family took me away from the stories I loved. But in 2020, when everyone was isolated, my youngest daughter introduced me to Japanese anime, and I fell into a hole I never want to leave. Fan fiction showed me that anyone can create stories and share them with the world. Three encouraging words from my best friend gave me the courage to write my first fan fiction later that year. Not long after, I completed the series, A Soul's Caress, my first original story but not my last. At 55, I now understand the meaning of George Eliot's quote, "It's never too late to be what you might have been.”

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Murder on Flesher Pass by K. L. Borges 💕 Fun Facts, Book Tour and Print Book Giveaway 💕 (Cozy Mystery)

2026-10-25T00:07:00.000-04:00

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RogerDog Rescue of Helena, Montana, is operated solely for the benefit of Montana dogs, no transported outsiders allowed.

When a fellow rescuer dies while completing a transport for an infamous Butte operation, Betty Mills, Kelly Boyd and Cici Vargas don’t believe it was an accident. They infilter the Butte group, just in time to partake in a rescue flight from Mexico. Plans go awry and they unwittingly wind up with something that multiple suspicious characters want to get their hands on. Is it the foreign dogs themselves or something else? The body count begins to grow and the danger spreads to other RogerDog workers.

Can they solve the mystery before it is too late?

Treasure, Treasure, Everywhere

Everyone likes to find treasure! Some people use a metal detector on a beach; others search for bargains at garage sales or resale shops. Sometimes the object of desire is an elusive/bird or animal to be captured on film. Whatever type of treasure you search for, it’s a tremendous thrill when you make a cool find, am I right?

It’s addictive, really. It can become an obsession. I am not immune.

Rock hounding is my treasure hunt of choice, dating back from when I was a small child. Can’t take me anywhere without me surreptitiously casting my eyes over the ground to see if there are any cool rocks underfoot. My coat pockets usually have rocks in them, look in the door pockets of the car, oh, there’s some more. Let me be in charge of planning outings during a vacation and you can be sure some of them will have some sort of rock experience built in. Hey, hiking in a spot known for its beauty, good fishing, or plentiful birds is simply better if it also happens to contain interesting rocks, that’s what I say!

My home state of Montana, known as the Treasure State, is full of opportunities to find gems, agates, petrified wood, colorful jaspers and fossils (only non-vertebrate fossils can be collected on public land). I live near the Yellowstone River and have spent many happy hours rootling through its gravel bars to see what pretties I could find.

Once found, I like to bring the best ones home, for continued enjoyment, limited to the quantity that I personally can carry back to the car. This is a rule we have in my family: everyone carries their own rocks. The photo shows wonderful rock I found last fall, a mix of red and gold jasper that was, just barely, able to fit in my backpack. It weighed twenty pounds or more and per the rule, that was a one-rock day, neither my pack or my back could have handled more!

I keep my rocks in a decorative rock garden in the back yard, where they get splashed by a fountain. Wet rocks show their colors in the sunlight without any need to cut or polish them. They stay in their original form, gifts from nature that I’m curating for a short while during their millions-of-years of existence.

Glorious finds are everywhere, if you get out and look.

How about you? Have you ever gone looking for a rocks in the great outdoors or at a Gem and Mineral show? Or do you have a different form of treasure that you like to hunt?

K.L. Borges, an Agatha Award-nominated author, moved to Montana thirty-five years ago with her husband to raise their three children alongside a series of herding dogs. Prior to becoming an author, she taught math at a private Billings high school (Go, Rams!). Borges is a member of the Billings Gem and Mineral Club and Sisters in Crime. She and her husband are often found enjoying the Montana outdoors with their two blue heelers.

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French Toast a la Santa Fe by Suzanne Stauffer 💕 Behind the Scenes, Book Tour and Print Book Giveaway 💕(Historical Cozy Mystery)

2026-10-23T00:07:00.000-04:00

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Prudence is determined to solve the mysteries and uncover the truth...

In 1929 New Mexico, Prudence Bates joins ten other Detourists, their Courier, and driver, on the three-day Fred Harvey Indian Detour from Las Vegas through Santa Fe and to Albuquerque.

During the trip small, valuable items belonging to the Detourists begin disappearing, and a retired Australian school teacher falls into a kiva. Or was she pushed? Prudence begins to suspect that someone is trying to kill her fellow traveler and wonders where the flapper from Kansas City disappears to at every stop. Or is La Llorona haunting the Detour? And what secrets are the two German men hiding? Prudence is determined to solve the mysteries and uncover the truth.

Hello! It’s nice to meet you. I’m Suzanne Stauffer, author of the newly released French Toast a la Santa Fe, the second book in the Couriers Series. The first book is called Fried Chicken Castañeda, in case you missed it. Friends who have read the books sometimes ask where I get the descriptions of the hotels and natural wonders that fill the books, so that’s what I’m going to post about today.

Unlike fantasy authors, we writers of historical fiction can’t just make up the settings – especially not well-known historical settings. But it is an excellent excuse, I mean, reason to visit a town or historic site. My husband and I stayed at the Castañeda Hotel in Las Vegas before I wrote Fried Chicken Castañeda and while there we visited the library and other settings that ended up in the book, including the Meadows Hotel (now the El Fidel), the Plaza Hotel, and the drugstore where Prudence and Jerry have lunch. And now we live just an hour and a half away! We’ve driven up there several times and stayed at the Plaza (it’s pet friendly, so we can take the doglet). It’s an absolutely charming Old West town.

In French Toast a la Santa Fe, Prudence goes on the three-day Indian Detour from Las Vegas to Albuquerque with 10 other tourists. Some of the places where they stop no longer exist, so unlike writers of contemporary fiction, I can’t visit them or look them up online. For those, I have a collection of books with historic photographs of different places in New Mexico, including Harvey Houses of New Mexico by Rosa Walston Latimer (History Press, 2015) and A History Lover’s Guide to Albuquerque by Roger Zimmerman (History Press, 2019). I also buy vintage postcards of the buildings and, where available, of the interiors.

The first place the Detour stops is the Pecos Ruins, which is (are?) now a National Historic Park, so there are plenty of photos on the website. https://www.nps.gov/peco/index.htm I also made a trip up there after we moved to Albuquerque. A rather significant event occurs to a couple of the Detourists while there, but you’ll have to read the book to find out what.

They stop for lunch at the Apache Inn, which is no longer in existence. The building is still there, but it’s the Our Lady of Guadalupe Abbey and Retreat Center (https://pecosmonastery.org/). Obviously, I wasn’t about to disturb them! So, I turned to eBay and found this postcard.

I can imagine the stagecoaches rushing through the gates and pulling up in front of the Inn, the hungry, thirsty, and dusty passengers looking forward to a wash and a drink and a bit to eat, then back on the stage. The experience of the Detourists in 1929 was not as dusty, but they were still hungry and thirsty. They were fed a gourmet lunch, that included trout caught in the nearby Pecos river, then back in the bus and off to La Fonda, in Santa Fe, where they stayed for two nights.

Our Detourists did a little shopping in the Indian Room before dinner. While La Fonda still exists and is a wonderful place to say, the Indian Room is long gone.

The patio would turn out to be more important than anyone imagined ... but no spoilers!

They visited several pueblos over the three-day excursion, including Tesuque, Santa Clara, Santo Domingo (now Kewa), and Isleta. I was able to find at least one vintage postcard of each pueblo, most of them with people engaged in their daily activities, which made it easier to bring the pueblos to life. As you can imagine, most of the pueblos are quite different today from what they were a century ago.

They also explored the Puyé Cliff Dwellings (now a National Historic Landmark https://puyecliffdwellings.com/) near Santa Clara and nearly lost ... well, you’ll have to read the book to find out what happened and to whom. The Cliff Dwellings webpage has some spectacular photos. We haven’t made it up there yet, but we will, and soon! Especially as the Harvey House built there in the 1930s has been restored and turned into a museum. It wasn’t there when Prudence and crew visited, though.

And, finally, they arrived at the Alvarado Hotel in Albuquerque. The hotel was demolished in 1970 in a horrific act of industrial vandalism – some of us still aren’t over it – but it lives on in photos and postcards and even the occasional scale model.

The Alvarado had an entire Indian Building, not just a single room. Prudence visited it and ... oh, there I go again, almost spoiling it!

Native Americans demonstrated their skill at weaving, jewelry making, carving, and other crafts, as this Navajo mother and daughter are doing in this photo.

Their handiwork was sold in the gift shop – and no, they weren’t paid what their work was worth.

So, now you know how some of us who write historical fiction, especially late 19th and 20th century fiction get our historically accurate descriptions of the various settings in our books. I hope that the images in these postcards and on the websites (if you visited them) have not only inspired you to read French Toast a la Santa Fe but to come on out here to New Mexico, the Land of Enchantment, and see the places for yourself!

June 1929. KiMo Theater, Albuquerque, New Mexico

Luis paused at the top of the staircase and looked down the dark hallway to where a window formed a grey rectangle against the night. Halfway down on the right, a dim yellow glow identified his destination. He walked to the door, then took a deep breath and stood with his shoulders back and chin tucked. He knocked on the door in the pattern he’d been given, turned the knob and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

A single green-shaded lamp on a desk at the back of the room cast the only light in the office. He could just make out a sandy-haired man in a suit sitting behind the desk. A dark-haired man in a straight-backed wooden chair facing the desk twisted around to look at him.

“Right on time, Luis,” said the man behind the desk. “Pull up a chair.”

Luis set a chair in front of the desk and stood at attention beside it. The man in the other chair leaned over and held out his hand. Luis shook it.

“Javier Martinez, National Park Service Law Enforcement,” the man said. He wore a plaid shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots, just as Luis did.

The man behind the desk stood and reached across it. Luis shook his hand as well. “Robert Simmons, Bureau of Prohibition on loan to the NPS.” He grinned. “Just call me Bob, and” — he waved at the chair — “have a seat.”

Luis waited until Bob had resumed his seat before seating himself. He sat upright, not touching the back of the chair.

“Any trouble finding this place?” Bob asked.

Luis shook his head. “No, sir, everyone knows where the KiMo is.”

“They tell you what this is about?”

Luis nodded, “Yes, sir. They said it has to do with the looting of ancient artifacts going on at the national parks around here.” He straightened. “I volunteered for this assignment because they aren’t just old pots they are stealing. They are stealing our heritage, our history.” He looked toward Javier. “Don’t you agree?”

“I do.” Javier nodded. “Those artifacts belong to all of the Pueblo people.”

“To say nothing of it being a federal crime,” Bob interjected. “That’s where I come in.” He looked toward Javier. “You want to take it from here?”

Javier nodded and turned toward Luis. “We got a tip that a middleman working for a known dealer in stolen art in Chicago is on one of the three-day Fred Harvey Indian Detours. It’s the perfect cover. The Detours go to most of the pueblos around here and nearly everyone purchases pottery from the Indians at the pueblos. No one will question another tourist buying another pot.” He looked at Bob. “Your turn. You know more about the MO than I do.”

Bob grinned. “What we’ve been told is that the middleman meets up with the seller at the pueblos and makes the purchases. The seller usually turns over the smaller items immediately. Larger ones, they make arrangements for the transfer at a later time and place. Our informant says that the seller for Santo Domingo is currently otherwise occupied — ”

“In jail,” Javier interrupted, answering Luis’ puzzled look. “Drunk and disorderly.”

“That’s why you’re here,” Bob continued. “You’ll go undercover as the seller—”

“But,” Luis continued to look puzzled, “won’t the middleman know that I’m not the seller?”

“No,” Javier responded again. “From what we’ve been told, who the seller is all depends on what is for sale and where it came from. The middleman never knows for certain who the seller will be or even if there will be one at a given pueblo.” He shrugged. “Sometimes the seller is working for someone else, sometimes for himself, so the middleman just makes himself available and waits to be approached.”

Luis nodded and looked thoughtful.

“They tell us you know the pueblo?” Bob asked.

“Yes, sir,” Luis nodded rapidly. “I have cousins there. I visited them when we were younger.”

“Good. Then no one will wonder what you’re doing there.”

“Oh,” Luis shook his head. “I’ll make sure that no one sees me. I know how to sneak in and the best places to hide.”

Javier grinned.

“I’ll bet you do,” Bob responded, “but that’s not necessary. Your job is just to make contact with the agent, take the payment, and set up a meeting later to collect the item. Agent Martinez and I will be at that meeting and take things from there.”

Luis jumped up and held out his hand. “I understand. I won’t disappoint you, sir.”

Bob remained seated, with a wry smile on his face. “Don’t you want to know when the Detour reaches Santo Domingo? And where the meeting will be set?”

“Oh,” Luis blushed and sat down suddenly. “Of course. I’m sorry, sir.”

“Just call me Bob. The Detour will be at Santo Domingo on Sunday morning. They’ll be spending that night at the Alvarado hotel here. Tell him to meet us in the lobby at …” he paused as if considering.

“At midnight, sir?” Luis asked.

“Sure, at midnight. Why not?” Bob held out his hand. “We’ll see you at the Alvarado on Sunday night at midnight.”

Luis jumped up and pumped Bob’s hand. He turned and clasped Javier’s. “I’ll be there and so will he!” He turned and tripped over the leg of his chair, then rushed to the door and left.

Bob looked at Javier after the door closed and raised an eyebrow. “Are they sure about him? He's pretty hepped up.”

“You remember your first assignment. You were just like that. Everyone is.” Javier shrugged. “Besides, he was the only volunteer with any connection to the pueblo. He’ll be fine as long as he follows orders.”

Bob looked skeptical. “Yeah, well, let’s hope he follows orders.”

Luis turned off the headlights of his pick-up as he left the road to approach the pueblo from the rear. The moon’s radiance turned the junipers and chamisa into black, two-dimensional silhouettes against the backdrop of the blocky, flat-roofed pueblo ahead of him. Grasses and sagebrush showed pale in the silver light.

Shifting into second gear, he allowed the truck to crawl over the rough terrain to within a few hundred yards of the pueblo. He parked behind a large juniper that shielded the truck from view from the pueblo. Setting his cowboy hat on the seat, he slipped out of the cab and carefully closed the door to avoid making any unnatural noise that would alert a light sleeper. In the distance, coyotes greeted each other with short, sharp yips and a few coughing barks. Probably planning some mischief or the other, but they sounded too far away to be a concern.

He crouched and ran lightly toward the pueblo, dodging quickly from juniper to juniper and chamisa to chamisa. He flattened himself against the back wall of the two-story building, slid to his left until he reached the corner and peered around. The stuttering hoot of a great horned owl caused him to jump slightly. He smiled to himself and shook his head. Nothing to be worried about there, either, despite the eerieness of the cry. He wasn’t one of those who believed that the owl was a harbinger of death, except, of course, to the small creatures that were its prey.

Seeing no light or movement, he stealthily slid around the corner and along the side of the building, keeping his back to wall. He held his breath as a dark shape waddled out of the plaza toward the open desert, then released it slowly as the animal continued past him, the wide streak of white down its back declaring its identity. Finally, a good omen. He waited until the skunk was far enough away not to be frightened by any movement of his.

Looking around the corner to the terraced front of the building, he saw that the ladder to the second story was propped against the wall between an open window and a closed door. He breathed a sigh of relief that he wouldn’t have to climb in front of the window or try to move the ladder. He lifted his right foot and bent his knee, to remove his boot, then stopped. Climbing the ladder quietly would be easier in his stocking feet, but he’d have to carry the boots up with him, so he’d only have one hand free. And if someone did hear him, he’d have to run through the scrub bootless. Better not risk it.

He passed under the window at a crouch, then stood and listened for any sound from the room. Hearing nothing, he tested the ladder to be sure it was stable, then stepped lightly on the first rung. The slight creak of the wood sounded like a shot in the quiet of the night, but there was no response from the pueblo. He stepped from rung to rung, pausing between each to listen. Taking a deep breath, he calmed his rapidly beating heart before stepping off of the ladder, then tiptoed carefully across the few yards of the first-story roof that formed the terrace for the second and climbed the ladder to the flat roof of the second story.

Arriving at the top, he lay flat on his belly in a corner of the parapet that ran around the roof. The only perceptible sounds were the usual chirping of insects and the occasional rustle of wind in the junipers. The owl hooted again, closer this time, hunting for its dinner. He raised his head just enough to see over the parapet. To the front, he had a clear view of the central plaza, with its circular underground kivas, ladders protruding from their entrances, and the rounded domes of adobe hornos, firewood piled next to them. Looking forward, he could just make out the road leading into the plaza. To his right, he could see the expanse of the open desert. He knew without looking down the side of the building that it was a straight drop to the ground, two stories below. A dark shadow moved across the plaza, as a cloud scudded in front of the moon.

He was in a good position. In the morning, he’d be able to see the HarveyCars arrive and any Detourist leave the party in search of a seller. He’d have to watch for his chance to get down from the roof, but everyone would be focused on the HarveyCars and the Detourists. The women would be selling their pottery and the men their jewelry, the ones who weren’t standing guard over the kivas to keep the strangers out. The Couriers would be helping the Detourists to negotiate prices, while the drivers snuck off for a smoke. No one would notice one more Indian hanging around.

He rolled over on his back and folded his arms beneath his head, his elbow just touching the parapet to his left. Might as well get comfortable. He’d be here a while. It had been years since he’d seen the thick band of glimmering stars that white people called the Milky Way. It was easy to see why some Pueblo people believed it was the path that the souls of the dead follow into the next life. He hunted for and found the stars that defined the Big Dipper, high in the northern sky. Try as he might, he was never able to see the bear that white people said it encompassed.

His eyes closed almost of their own accord and he drifted off to sleep. The yipping of coyotes and the hoots of owls gradually invaded his dreams. He watched as a dark shape shrouded the moon. Unlike the cloud, it did not move away. Rather, it grew slowly larger and, as it approached, he could feel the breeze created by great wings flapping silently in the air above him. Two massive feet with long, curving talons reached toward his face. He shouted and waved his arms, trying to drive it away. Rolling to his right, he saw several pairs of red eyes gleaming at him and could feel hot breath on his face. He rolled quickly to his left, protecting his head with his arms. He had to get off this roof. He jumped to his feet in panic, then sensed rather than saw the coyotes leap toward him. Stumbling backwards, he awoke as he felt the adobe of the parapet crack and crumble under his heels. As he plunged off the roof, his last sight was of the shining Spirit Path.

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After 20 years as a librarian and 20 as a professor of library science and library historian, Suzanne Stauffer has moved on to a third career as a mystery novelist. She currently lives in Albuquerque with her Australian husband and brown and white spotted rat terrier dogter, Treme. Her debut novel, Fried Chicken Castañeda (Artemesia Publishing, May 2025), won the CIPA EVVY Bronze Medal in Mystery/Crime/Detection and the New Mexico Book Award for Cozy Mystery.

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The Ghosts of Border House Series by Vanessa Victoria Kilmer and Leah Miles 💕 Series Tour, Newsletter Freebies and $40 Gift Card Giveaway 💕 (Paranormal Romance)

2026-10-23T00:06:00.000-04:00

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Experience centuries of Scottish hospitality—whether you're breathing or not.

Border House has stood on the River Tweed since 1100, witnessing centuries of Scottish history and accumulating many permanent residents along the way. This ancient fortified manor, once a hunting lodge and defensive tower, now serves as both a charming hotel and an unintentional retirement home for spirits who can’t or won’t move on to the next realm.

The house is home to a medieval king, a turncoat scribe, a lonesome English soldier, two Victorian ladies, one unhappy go-go girl, a Scottish Brewmaster, and more. Each ghost brings their own quirks, complaints, and centuries-old drama to daily life at Border House. Whether you’re a living guest checking in for the weekend or a long-dead resident who’s been here for ages, everyone has a story to tell.

Welcome to Border House—where checkout time is optional, and some guests have been extending their stay for centuries.

This series features standalone paranormal romances written by various authors.

2026 National Excellence in Romance Fiction Award (NERFA) - Romance Novella category

In 1566, Thomas Kincaid is murdered at Border House by agents of the Scottish King. Thinking himself betrayed by his soulmate, Sara Mae Stuart, Thomas curses her to a life of reincarnation with his dying breath.

When Sara Mae dies of a broken heart, she is reborn again and again.

After 450 years of reincarnation, Sara Mae returns to Border House to perform a séance and break her curse. She discovers a host of unsettled spirits, each harboring their own hidden agendas, and Thomas, lurking inside her crystal ball.

Can love survive revenge, guilt, and a quirky spiritual divide?

After fifty-five years, Nova Guthrie has returned to Scotland for the annual Halloween Ball at Border House. Or that is her excuse to return to the home of her youth and bid farewell to memories of her lost lover.

What she doesn’t know is that Donnal Stuart still haunts the grand mansion, along with a few other ghostly characters—one of whom will do everything she can to keep them apart.

This story is about true love and secret ghost powers bundled up in a haunting tale of second chances.

Black cats love sunshine.

Bubbly but lonely Scottish heiress, Morven Blair, connects with Black Kat, a cranky internet pixie with a secret identity and a reputation as a myth buster. Morven asks Black Kat to prove the existence of ghosts and certify Border House, “the most haunted place in the world.” Black Kat intends to prove it’s all a con. Opposites do attract, but do they really know love at all?

Ghost Dogs, a performing troupe, and a murder to solve.

Ann Darby was a rising movie star but died alone in a river in 1975. It seems she’s destined to spend eternity alone at Border House in Scotland. Halloween is the one night she can be visible to the living, but this year she plans to skip the party. That is, until a giant Highlander steps out of a green van in front of the house.

Callum McLeod performs in a small troupe for parties and events, waiting for his big break. Betrayed by the lover he trusted and fired by the employer he outperformed, he’s at the end of the road—personally, financially, and emotionally. His paycheck was supposed to cover rent. Now he’ll be evicted the moment he gets home.

Then a killer strikes in the maze, and Callum never makes it home at all. The house ghosts must work together to catch a murderer, and Ann has some hard choices to make if she wants her future to look different from her past.

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Leah Miles grew up in Atlanta, Georgia, and planned to have a career as either a television anchor or a successful author. After getting a bachelor’s degree in English and communications, she worked at CNN for more than a dozen years in technical news production. Her second career is managing an insurance agency in rural Georgia, along with six brand-new Airbnb-style rentals, with her husband. When not writing insurance or cleaning cabins, she cherishes quality time with her hubby and their cocker spaniel, Hootie. They have three adult kids—a doctor, a lawyer, and a journalist. Leah is currently writing a series with military elements involving take-charge heroes and women who stand up for themselves and the people they love. For updates, visit leahmilesauthor.com.

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Vanessa Victoria Kilmer told her first story to an angel who visited her when she was locked in a dark, medieval attic at the age of four.

She grew up surrounded by fortified castles, primal salt mines, and the drama of ancient places. Her fantasy fiction teems with murder, magic, and madness. She explores the abuse inflicted by those closest to us and the various ways people deal with the damage. Between writing novels, she blogs, paints, and takes pictures with her white camera named Traitor and embroiders tapestries.

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Sweet Harmony by Ellie Noor 💕 New Release Blitz and $25 Giveaway 💕 (Sweet Holiday Romance)

2026-10-22T00:06:00.000-04:00

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Against a backdrop of small-town loyalties, beloved holiday traditions, and the romance that sneaks up on her.

Who knew placing second in national baking competition would flood your inbox with opportunities?

Not Clara Whitman.

A third-generation baker, Clara knows that businesses like hers are entrusted, not merely handed over. But with options beyond Blue Spruce Hills suddenly in the mix alongside a looming rent increase, she’s at a crossroads. She can afford to keep the bakery going, but not while pursuing something new.

In a small town where beloved establishments are slowly disappearing, however, even the idea of leaving feels traitorous.

When an up-and-coming violinist comes to town to settle the estate of his estranged grandfather and sell the music shop, he is both a distraction and a reminder that sometimes the real challenge in life is deciding how much of it you’re willing to change.

Sweet Harmony is a spirited celebration of a woman who believes every problem has a solution—set against a backdrop of small-town loyalties, beloved holiday traditions, and the romance that sneaks up on her.

“Thanks for coming, Rye. I know this is early for you.”

“This is important.” Riley bites into the gingerbread and lets out a blissful sigh. “Mmm... just the right amount of spice.”

She cradles the mug in both hands, inhaling deeply.

I know that look, and instinctively brace for whatever she’s going to say.

“You won’t forget me when you make it big, will you? If I have to keep sharing you, I’m afraid there won’t be anything left just for me.”

Her fear comes out the way it always does—half joke, half confession—and I respond the way I always do.

With humor.

Not because I want to minimize her feelings. She has good reason to feel the way she does. But if I take her words too seriously, we’ll spill over into territory that neither one of us can handle at six o’clock in the morning. Not when we have something important planned five minutes from now.

So I stick my tongue out instead.

“Judging by the way my Instagram numbers jumped overnight, that might just be a possibility.” I wait a beat, then tone it down a notch just to be on the safe side. “Joking aside, it’s wild, considering I came in second.”

“I think America is affronted on your behalf.”

I almost snort. “Maybe they’re sympathy likes. Anyway, the winner deserved it.”

“Only you would be genuinely glad for someone else winning when we both know you needed that first place prize money for a refurb and the rent increase. What a wagon that Mrs. Wallace is, serving a rent increase to the bakery and the bookstore and who knows how many other businesses.”

Wagon. This time I snort for real. “You are so Irish, you know that?”

Riley gives me a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry you came in second. You deserved to win.”

“It’s okay. Someone on the show told me that contestants who come in second are often more popular than the winners and, you know what, they might be right because... ” I pull my cell phone out of my apron. “My inbox has been blowing up.”

“Oh..?”

“Listen to this. A cruise line wants me for a holiday residency next year. Live baking demonstrations while influencers sip champagne. Can you imagine?”

Riley starts picking at her sweater. “On a ship like… on the open seas?”

“No, ‘fraidy cat. They operate on the Hudson, the Mississippi, and other rivers. But that’s not all.” I scroll through more emails. “There’s a seasonal TV show, an invitation to teach at a new culinary institute and, wait for it, an offer to consult on a script for a Hallmark show about a baker. I haven’t even looked at the rest, and there are a dozen more since I last che—”

“Clara.” Riley’s mug lands on the table with a soft thud. “These are big-time offers.”

I don’t even try to stop myself from pulling a face.

“I know right?”

“It’s not surprising, though. You were definitely the fan favorite, and that smile of yours at the end...”

“Crying on national TV wouldn’t have fit my brand.” I laugh softly as I bite into my own gingerbread slice. A personal victory, considering half the town showed up at the community center to watch the finale last night. “Besides, I was genuinely happy for the winner.”

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Eggnog & Evidence by Nikki Weber 💕 Book Tour, Newsletter Freebie and eBook Giveaway 💕 (Christmas Cozy Mystery)

2026-10-21T00:07:00.000-04:00

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Some secrets are like Christmas lights: they get worse the more you try to untangle them.

Some secrets are like Christmas lights: they get worse the more you try to untangle them.

Noelle Cooper is teaming up with her family to launch a festive new venture: a holiday extravaganza complete with Santa, gallons of eggnog, and a spectacular tree lighting guaranteed to make the season merry and bright.

There’s just one problem: Holly Winterbourne, the abrasive holiday consultant Noelle’s father has hired to help pull it off. Holly insists on holding a practice run at Babbling Brook Campground—in the middle of July—and she rubs everyone the wrong way.

When an incident at the tree lighting turns deadly, the festivities come to a shocking halt. Noelle feels partly responsible for the tragedy, but then the police determine that it was no accident, and Noelle’s guilt turns to suspicion. She sets out to discover who tried to pull the plug on the festival.

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Nikki Weber grew up reading in unconventional places: the backseat of a car, the top of the monkey bars on her backyard play set, and the corners of the quietest hallways in her elementary school. She was born and raised in Maine and spent her childhood summers camping with her family and their beagle. She loves dogs, nachos, coffee, and ice cream, and so far, she’s managed to work three of those four things into the books in the Maine Campground Cozy Mystery series. She’s working on her next book right now, so grab a copy of whatever you haven’t read yet and get started!

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Burnt-out event planner, Noelle Cooper, is drifting. Unmotivated by her job and living in an apartment she hates, she’s just going through the motions of daily life. When Noelle finds out that her late boss left a special assignment just for her, she's cautiously optimistic about the day ahead and the secret event.

What she discovers is an eye-opening look into a world that few know about, and a group of dogs she never knew existed. When one of the dogs slips away unnoticed, Noelle follows him, getting herself into a sticky situation, and changing her life forever.

This short story about a beagle rescue organization is fun and touching, while still providing light education about why beagles are often bred for laboratory research. No animals are harmed in the story, and there is no language or violence, just found family and a happy ending!

Download Freedom & Fosters: A Beagle Rescue Short Story today!

You may enjoy this story as a standalone novella/short story. It also serves as the prequel to Campfires & Corpses, Book 1 in the Maine Campground Cozy Mystery Series, which features Noelle and her dog as the main characters.

"A lovely quick read and a good foundation for Book 1 “Campfires & Corpses”." - An Amazon Reviewer

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The Ghost and the Dead Librarian by Cleo Coyle 💕 Book Tour and Signed Book Giveaway 💕(Cozy Mystery)

2026-10-20T00:07:00.000-04:00

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Unless Jack can help Pen prove who “checked out” the librarian, a ruthless killer may close the book on her...

A LIBRARY JOURNAL “MYSTERY PICK OF THE MONTH” In an utterly charming new mystery from New York Times bestselling author Cleo Coyle, a small-town Rhode Island bookshop owner investigates the death of an eccentric librarian with the help of a wisecracking, 1940s gumshoe ghost.

As a young widow, Penelope moved back to her quaint Rhode Island town to give her young son a safer home and her aunt’s dying bookshop new life. Using her late husband’s insurance money, Pen polished the store into a local treasure. But her updates did more than attract new customers. They roused a dead private eye from his big sleep.

With Pen’s affection for hardboiled detective stories, it’s no surprise she’s developed a fondness for the wisecracking yet oddly likeable spirit. Sure, Jack’s cold spots are exasperating, along with his proclivity for putting noir fiction in the cozy section. But murder was Jack’s business in life, and his PI skills come in awfully handy when the body of an eccentric librarian is found amid the bookshop’s aisles.

For years, Dory jokingly called herself “The Dead Librarian” because of her hobby of collecting and writing local obituaries. Now, in death, she’s discovered with her own eerily pre-written obit. Was it a suicide note? Jack and Pen say no and their certainty takes them from a ghost town’s ancient cemetery to a posh Newport mansion. When another body drops, a mysterious stranger makes Pen a shocking offer, one that may change her life—and Jack’s afterlife. But unless Jack can help Pen prove who “checked out” the librarian, a ruthless killer may close the book on her.

“This spin-off of Coyle’s ‘Haunted Bookshop’ series blends cozy mystery, supernatural intrigue, and classic noir influences into a suspenseful small-town murder mystery….Combining humor, literary references, ghostly interventions, and layered community drama, the novel explores how hidden truths from the past continue to haunt the present.” —Library Journal (*Starred Review)

Meet the Ghost

Jack Shepard, PI

In life, Jack’s pulse pounded to the rhythm of the city streets: the smoky dice joints and swingin’ suds clubs. Why couldn’t he have been gunned down in a joint like that? Instead, he got lead poisoning in the god-forsaken sticks, eternity in cornpone alley. There’s only one thing that makes this backwater existence tolerable. Her name is Penelope…

Okay, so the broad is one of those annoying do-right, fair-play Jane types, but she has a nice face, a sweet voice, and Jack always had been a sucker for redheads. If he hears her thoughts right, Penelope doesn’t even believe in ghosts. Well, he never believed in them, either. But, brother, had he been wrong. Now he’s a disembodied spirit, sentenced for his sins to exist in a world he hardly knows. Lucky for him his purgatory comes with an auburn-haired angel, a doll named Penelope he can’t stop watching or watching over…

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CLEO COYLE is a pseudonym for Alice Alfonsi, writing in collaboration with her husband, Marc Cerasini. Both are New York Times bestselling authors of the long-running Coffeehouse Mysteries, now celebrating more than 20 years in print, and the national bestselling Haunted Bookshop Mysteries. With more than one million books sold, their works have been translated into Spanish, Japanese, and Czech; received multiple Best of Year selection honors from reviewers; and have been recommended by Booklist as among the best culinary mysteries for core library mystery collections. Alice and Marc are also bestselling media tie-in writers who have penned properties for Lucasfilm, NBC, Fox, Disney, Imagine, Toho, and MGM. They live and work in New York City, where they write independently and together, wrangle their rescue cats, drink a lot of java, and cook like crazy. Connect with Cleo at CoffeehouseMystery.com

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