Secrets. Suspense. Obsession.

Cate Kensie Mysteries

Some mysteries echo across time.

Gothic Mystery • Time Travel • Scottish Castle • Magical Secrets

When Cate Kensie inherits a sprawling Scottish castle, she discovers an ancient timepiece hidden within its walls — one that allows her to slip through time itself. But every journey into the past uncovers dangerous secrets, unsolved murders, and mysteries that were never meant to be solved.

— Featured Scene —

Shadowy blobs filled the space, and she flicked on the light to banish any lurking shadows. She plopped onto the chaise, lying back against the velvet material. As she lounged, the light next to her flickered. 

Cate sat straighter, staring at it for a moment. It glowed steadily, and she eased back into the cushion. 

But then the light flickered again, and her muscles tensed. Her breathing sped up and her pulse quickened. She stared up at the shade until the flickering ceased. She eyed the lamp warily as she eased back again. 

As she settled onto the chaise, kicking her feet up, the room plunged into darkness.

Cate stiffened, sitting up straight and waiting for her eyes to adjust. She blindly felt her way to the lamp and clicked the switch. It did not light. She fiddled with the bulb and tried again. Nothing.

She forced herself to remain calm, shuffling to the door and peeking into the hallway beyond. She swallowed hard as she stared down the long, dark hall. 

“Gayle?” she called into the darkness.

She tied her robe tighter around her and raised her chin as she stepped into the hall. She inched down it, her eyes wide, searching all the dark corners. With her fingers tracing the wall, she made her way around a corner and into a new hall.

“Gayle?” she tried again. 

No answer. Perhaps she was soundly asleep.

Closed doors lined the dark space, lit only by the moonlight streaming through the window at the end. Cate wandered down the hall, turning another corner and finding a set of stairs leading down.

She descended to a back hallway, spotting the closed off wing at the end of the long hall she spilled into. 

“I should have brought a flashlight,” she lamented to herself as she crept past the shadowy blobs filling the walls. 

She wound around, finding the foyer and retracing her earlier steps to the library. She used the moonlight to make her way to the heavy desk and searched the drawers for a flashlight. She found nothing but matches. She shoved them into her robe’s pocket.

“Okay, half the battle,” she murmured as she spun to scan the room. “Now, can I find a candle?”

With her hands outstretched, she wandered across the room, bumping into the leather chair near the fireplace and stubbing her toe. She hopped around on one foot as she cursed the darkness.

With her fingers guiding her along the form of the supple leather chair, she felt her way toward the bookcases. She touched wood and dropped to her knees, searching for the handle of the cubby at the bottom of the bookshelf. 

She found the round wooden pull and tugged on it. In the dim light, she felt around inside the small cupboard. Her hand struck cold metal. She wrapped her fingers around it and pulled it out. 

The smell of wax wafted past her nostrils and a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. With a shaky hand, she pulled the matches from her pocket and struck one.

The flame flared to life, providing temporary light. She held it to the wick of one of the partially burned candles in the candelabra, lighting it. Quickly, she lit the other two before waving the flame out. A wisp of smoke rose in the air as Cate laid the burnt match on the fireplace bricks and stood with the candelabra raised high in the air.

She crept out of the library and toward the foyer, glancing up the large staircase. “Gayle?”

With no response received, she continued through the halls, wandering in search of her guest or a fuse box.

She descended the stairs to the servants’ area, roaming down the hall toward the kitchen.

A figure darted out from the pantry. Cate froze, her candles flickering in a slight breeze. She stared wide-eyed at the fuzzy form clad in white. She held her breath as her heart pounded against her ribs, and her legs wobbled under her as she stared at the specter.

Shelving Magic

Magic belongs on the shelves.

Magical • Chaotic • Clever • Unpredictable

Paige Turner thought she was taking a quiet librarian job. Instead, she found a hidden archive of magical artifacts, a teal teacup dragon named Dewey, and a world where cursed objects can destroy lives if they fall into the wrong hands. Now Paige spends her days chasing enchanted relics, uncovering dangerous secrets, and trying to keep magic from spilling into the ordinary world — preferably without blowing up the library in the process.

— Featured Scene —

The dragon loomed large in front of her. 

Its mouth opened, and a deep, growling voice emerged.“Wut eek hu juy hoor!” 

“Uh…” Paige tapped the bridge of her glasses, pushing them up as they began to slide down her nose, slick with sweat. “Hello.”

“Wak eek hu!” it shouted, its eyes narrowing at Paige.

Paige licked her lips as sweat beaded on her brow. She searched for a hiding spot, but the flapping wings and hulking size of the beast suggested she’d never survive an attempt to flee. She could not skirt around it either. It filled the space between the stairs and the shelving units. 

The creature fluttered around in front of her, studying her for a moment before it advanced toward her.

Paige bit into her lower lip hard and squeezed her eyes shut as she prepared to be maimed or eaten. 

“Dewey!” Ronnie shouted from high above them. 

Paige snapped her eyes open, hope leaping within her. The dragon in front of her ceased its movement. The image distorted, crackling before it finally died out. An object clattered to the ground and slid across the concrete floor toward her. 

“Stop that!” Ronnie scolded. 

Paige crinkled her brow as Ronnie descended the stairs. She collected the discarded item from the floor and studied it. It appeared to be a handheld projector of some kind. Dewey must have been having a bit of fun at her expense. 

A voice mumbled something Paige couldn’t understand. She glanced up as Ronnie stepped onto her level. A creature, no larger than a small dog, flitted from a dark corner.

Paige’s jaw dropped as she recognized a tiny version of the dragon that had just loomed large over her.

“That doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have scared her like that. She’s your new partner!”

The tiny, teal beast flicked his dark eyes to Paige, then back to Ronnie as he hovered in the air. He offered another unintelligible set of words, throwing his front paws out to each side. 

“Yes, I know she has to get used to it, but still, Dewey, you could have been a little more welcoming.”

The dragon let his paws dangle in the air as his shoulders slumped. 

“Come on. I’ll make a proper introduction,” Ronnie said, waving him over to Paige. “Sorry about that. Dewey can get a little overzealous.”

“This is Dewey?” Paige asked, waving a finger at him.

“This is Dewey,” Ronnie answered. “Your new partner.”

With wide eyes, Paige studied the small, flying creature. 

He offered her a wave. “Huya!”

Paige crinkled her brow and said hello before returning her attention to Ronnie. “What is he?”

“A dragon,” Ronnie answered.

“He’s tiny!” Paige exclaimed.

Dewey’s eyes narrowed, and steam blew from his wide nostrils. 

Ronnie winced and gave her head a slight shake. “Yes, he’s a teacup.” She lowered her voice as she leaned toward Paige. “He doesn’t like people to mention his size.”

“Oh,” Paige said, readjusting her glasses and offering the dragon an apologetic glance, “sorry, buddy.”

Dewey crossed his arms and closed his eyes, his chin lifting in the air. “Idiok.”

“Dewey!” Ronnie scolded. 

Lily & Cassie by the Sea

Ghosts aren’t the only things haunting Hideaway Bay.

Haunting • Coastal • Emotional • Cozy

After devastating losses change their lives forever, Lily and Cassie escape to the seaside town of Hideaway Bay hoping for a fresh start. Instead, they find a crumbling Victorian mansion, the ghost of a pirate captain, and a cold case the town would rather forget. As mother and daughter uncover buried secrets along New Hampshire’s coast, they quickly learn that some mysteries refuse to stay buried — and some ghosts still have unfinished business.

— Featured Scene —

A rainy day like today seemed like an appropriate time to start her survey. Cassie began with the shelf nearest the window seat. A smile formed on her lips as she ran her hand across the spines of the books on the middle shelf. She leaned closer and breathed in the scent. The sweet, musky smell of vintage books wafted into her nostrils. 

She pulled one from the shelf. On the cover, a frightened-looking woman, her long hair trailing behind her and her Victorian-era dress flowing in the wind, ran from a dark, gothic castle. Cassie offered the book a half-smile. Apparently, a former occupant was a gothic mystery fan. 

She flipped through the pages. A plume of dust billowed in the air from the old book. Cassie stifled a cough as she flipped to the back cover to examine it, before grabbing the next book off the shelf. 

As she glanced through the fiction books, Willy plunked to the floor and stretched before crossing the room. He sat on his haunches as he stared up at one of the bookcases. 

Cassie’s gaze flitted to him before returning to the bookshelf she’d been systematically working through. “Find anything you’d like to read, buddy?” she questioned.

Willy answered with a trilling noise followed by a meow. His tail swished across the floor, indicating his curiosity. Cassie smiled at him and returned to her book blurb reading. After a moment, he meowed again and leapt to his feet. He stared at the casing around the bookshelf and rubbed his face against it. 

He placed his front paws on a shelf and stared upward. Cassie’s brow furrowed at his strange behavior. With her curiosity piqued, she shuffled to join Willy at the shelf. 

“What is it, Willy?”

She glanced at the shelves, finding nothing out of the ordinary. “Gosh, I hope it’s not a mouse,” she murmured with a wince.

She spent another few minutes scrutinizing the shelves. Before she finished, Willy’s interest waned. He stalked back to the window seat, leaping up and spinning in a circle before settling on top of the blanket. 

After a thorough search, Cassie found nothing of interest. At least, not to the cat. Instead, her perusal led her to a small worn brown leather-bound book. She wriggled it free from the other books and flipped to its cover. A blank brown rectangle stared back at her. 

She ran her fingers over the soft, cool leather, before thumbing through the small book. A small piece of paper fluttered to the floor, along with a few particles that appeared to be the remnants of a dried flower. Hand-written pages filled the tiny tome. 

She retrieved the note before letting the book fall closed. She flicked open the front cover and stared at the text scrawled inside. 

Property of Henrietta Blanchard

Cassie gasped at the name. Henrietta Blanchard–the specter supposed to haunt Whispering Manor. A chill ran up her spine as thunder boomed overhead and she stared at the name inscribed on the yellow-white page. Was this the journal of the woman who threw herself to her death, only to supposedly roam these halls in spirit?

Shadow Lake Ranch Murders

Betrayal runs deeper than blood.

Betrayal • Obsession • Secrets • Murder

Every guest who arrives at Shadow Lake Ranch is hiding something. Broken friendships. Dangerous misunderstandings. Secret children. Obsessions mistaken for love. What begins as emotional betrayal quickly spirals into something far more deadly as jealousy, fear, and desperation collide inside Cabin 6. At Shadow Lake Ranch, murder is never random — it’s personal.

— Featured Scene —

II was hated. Like really hated. Like torch-me-on-the-internet-and-let-it-live-forever hated.

And I had earned it. Not that I cared.

For some reason, I thought this one would be different. I don’t know why. She was stronger than I was prepared for. 

I underestimated her. I underestimated a lot of things.

Why I thought this decade of life would turn out any different than the first three, I couldn’t tell you.

Maybe it was her. She was so sweet. Almost invisible. 

All of my victims were. But she…was different. 

And for a long time, I thought we’d make it. I really did. 

I never thought she’d really be seen. Not by him. Not by anyone. 

It was supposed to be the summer of our lives. And I tried. I really tried not to be that woman. 

If she’d known my reputation, she probably never would have been my friend, but I really thought she was. And I really thought I’d be different.

I’d booked the double occupancy cabin at the Montana ranch, giddily sending her the confirmation the moment it came through. 

I’d chewed my lower lip as I stared at pictures on the website that called it a “luxury retreat for emotional renewal.” 

Think yoga mats in barn lofts, raw honey with every meal, and bonfires for bonding every night. 

You were supposed to learn to ride and trust, rope and breathe, let it all go and pick it all up. 

I thought it would bond us even more. I thought maybe she’d be my ride-or-die like I told her I was. 

She was so easy to encourage because I knew she’d never outshine me. Until she did. 

And that damned ranch exposed me. Harsh spotlight, raw and unflinching. Meanwhile in that same light, she sparkled, soft and angelic. Untouchable despite my desperate attempts to paint her as the devil. 

But it all cracked apart faster than I expected. Things went sideways. People saw more than they should. Whispered more than I’d planned. 

She stopped being invisible. I stopped being untouchable. And once that balance shifted—

There was nowhere to hide. 

I told myself it didn’t matter. He was just a man. And I didn’t even want him. Not really. I just wanted to prove I could.

And I said she was just some stupid girl. 

I didn’t care if I fixed it. 

Until it was too late to fix anything. 

We’d come to bond. We’d ended drenched in blood. 

Some stories end in forgiveness. Ours didn’t.

Like I said, I was hated. And that’s why I was murdered.

Middle Age is Murder

Midlife is hard enough without talking pets and murder.

Charming • Witty • Cozy • Supernatural

When fifty-year-old Ellie Byrne inherits her aunt’s bed-and-breakfast in the small town of Salem Falls, she expects a fresh start — not a murder investigation. But after a strange accident leaves her able to understand animals, Ellie suddenly finds herself solving crimes with the help of a sarcastic black cat, a sweet miniature bulldog, and a town overflowing with secrets. In Salem Falls, gossip travels fast… but the pets usually know the truth first.

— Featured Scene —

Ellie nodded as Mac’s phone rang. “Oh, excuse me a moment,” Mac said. 

She gave him a silent nod and returned to studying the financial details. Mac wasn’t kidding when he said she’d be set without needing to reopen the B&B. Still, she thought it sounded like a fun project. Ideas brewed in her head about updates and additions. 

“You must be joking!” Mac shouted, drawing her attention with the tenor of his voice. 

Ellie glanced up, spotting an expression of shock on his face. “No, no, I believe you, but… well, I just don’t know what to say.”

Ellie studied the papers again, wondering if she should step out. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ve got her right here, actually.”

The words piqued her interest. She glanced up at Mac. He held out a finger toward her. “I can do that. Yeah… sure, we’ll be right over. Okay. Thanks a lot, Rick.”

Mac ended the call and blew out a long breath as he stared at the desk. He shook his head after the moment and glanced up at Ellie. She straightened in her seat. “Everything okay?”

“Afraid not,” Mac answered. “I’ve got some… bad news.”

Ellie’s heart sank. There must be a problem with the will. She figured it was too good to be true that her problems would be ended by a miraculous inheritance.

“Gosh, Ellie, I don’t know how to tell you this but…” The man looked ready to cry. Ellie felt sorry for him. He probably didn’t know how to break it to her that she’d not be inheriting anything.

“It’s okay,” Ellie said. She collected the papers and slid them back across the desk to him. “I understand.”

“You do?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said in a soft voice as she collected her purse. “Yeah, I get it. I was surprised when you said Aunt Susie left everything to me. I figured it must be a mistake.”

“Oh, no,” Mac said, waving his hands. “No, it has nothing to do with the inheritance. Well, very little.”

Ellie cocked her head at him. “That was the sheriff on the phone. They just finished your aunt’s autopsy.”

“Oh,” Ellie said, confusion apparent on her face. “Okay?”

“Ellie, your aunt didn’t drown accidentally. She was murdered.”

Duchess of Blackmoore Mysteries

The dead still demand justice.

Gothic • Haunted • Elegant • Atmospheric

Born with the ability to see lingering spirits, Lenora Hastings has spent her life haunted by the dead. When the Duke of Blackmoore offers her marriage in exchange for uncovering the truth behind his first wife’s suspicious death, Lenora is pulled into a world of aristocratic secrets, dangerous betrayals, and murders the living would rather leave buried. But the spirits surrounding Blackmoore Castle refuse to stay silent — and neither does Lenora.

— Featured Scene —

“I happen to cherish your dusty library. What a treasure to have so many books, so many escapes at one’s fingertips.”

“A treasure? Am I to understand you are an avid appreciator of books?”

“I am,” I admitted. “Books kept me company on a number of lonely nights at the orphanage. Though, the library there was woefully lacking compared to yours.”

Robert smiled at me. “Compared to ours,” he corrected. “Though I must admit I am unaware of its contents. I have spent little time there. Is our selection sufficient?”

We reached the library doors. “More than sufficient.” 

He smiled at me as we parted ways. “I am pleased you find it so. I shall leave you to your books, my dear.”

I glanced down at the book on my lap, one that I found within our library after my arrival, with a smile. The library far surpassed the one in my previous residence and had brought me many hours of enjoyment. 

I opened the book to the marked page to continue my reading. As I settled into the first words of the chapter, a chill suddenly overtook me. I clutched the blanket closer to me, drawing it further up my lap. Perhaps the chilly air outside made my window seat too cold a place to read, I mulled. I glanced at the fireplace. Large flames still danced inside it, and I considered drawing closer to it for warmth. 

Before I could make my decision, my fur blanket slid slowly off my lap, taking my book with it. I grabbed at it, pulling it back toward me. I snuggled into it, tucking it around me, and retrieved my book. 

I had not read two words when the blanket crept toward the floor again, as though something weighed it down. I pulled it back, ensuring no parts of it remained on the floor. With a deep inhale, I returned to the pages of my book. 

Within seconds, the blanket inched away from me for a third time. I grasped at it, now realizing the source was otherworldly. A powerful force tugged against my grip. “Show yourself,” I ordered.

Whispers of Witchcraft

Every haunted house has a story to tell

Steady • Attentive • Protective • Devoted

Greg doesn’t need to raise his voice to command a room. His strength is quieter than that — steady, deliberate, impossible to ignore. A billionaire who built his empire with patience and precision, he moves through the world with calm authority. But when it comes to the woman he loves, there is nothing restrained about his devotion. Greg shows up. He protects. He listens. And when it matters most, he stands firm. The Steadfast Titan doesn’t waver — and he never walks away.

— Featured Scene —

IThunder rumbled again overhead, and the wind whipped outside.  I pulled the sleeves of my hoodie down to hide the goosebumps on my skin.  

“Haunting?  Like ghosts?”

“Something like that,” Grandmother answered.  

I scoffed at the statement before I rolled the eight-sided die and made my move on the game board.  “Ghosts aren’t real.”

“Oh, no?  Is that your expert opinion?” 

I glanced sideways to find my grandmother offering me a half-grin as she awaited my answer.

“Yeah, it is.”

“I have a few tales that may change your mind.  Including one about that music box.”

Thunder boomed overhead again.  The candles around us flickered.  I swallowed hard, unnerved by the odd timing.  I shoved it aside and put on my brave face.  

“Well, I guess outside of this game, there isn’t much else to do.”

Grandmother smiled at me.  “I think you’ll find there is plenty to do at Thornwood, but on a rainy night like tonight, a chilling tale may be the perfect way to welcome you.”

I arched an eyebrow, the corners of my lips tugging up at her words.  “Chilling?  Like scary?”

“That depends.  There are some who would find it absolutely terrifying.  And others who would find it intriguing.  I wonder which you will be.”

“Let’s find out.  Tell me about the music box.”

Grandmother held a finger in the air.  “That one will take a bit of building up to.  I have another first.”

“But you said the music box had a story, and since it’s in my room, I want to know it.”

“And you will.  But as I said, I have to build up to it.  Instead, we’ll start with the mystery of Maple Mansion.”

I clicked my tongue at her as I settled my forearms on the table.  “Seriously?  What is this?  A Nancy Drew novel?”

Grandmother laughed and shook her head. “Definitely not.  Though I did love those books as a little girl.  Did you?”

I shrugged.  “Yeah, I guess.”

“Then I think you will enjoy this story.  Let’s call it…Nancy Drew with a splash of the supernatural.  And it starts on a night very much like this one. A night that would change Rose Thornfield’s life forever.”

Thunder crashed again and lightning lit the skies as my grandmother launched into her story.  

Great Maine Mysteries

Every lighthouse guides more than ships.

Atmospheric • Coastal • Psychic • Suspenseful

When a mysterious tourmaline bracelet begins giving her psychic visions tied to murder, Emily Harper finds herself pulled into the hidden darkness lurking beneath Maine’s rugged coastline. From isolated lighthouses to quiet seaside towns filled with secrets, each investigation uncovers dangerous truths someone desperately wants buried. Along the coast of Maine, the fog hides more than ships.

— Featured Scene —

“Turn around when possible,” the robotic voice interrupted, slicing through the damp air as thunder rumbled overhead. My windshield wipers skittered frantically across the glass, struggling to keep up with the downpour.

I slowed down on the narrow, two-lane road, squinting past the rain drops in search of a place to turn around.

My first day in Maine wasn’t going as planned. I’d already been unsure about accepting this unexpected inheritance, and the storm only made me feel more uneasy. My struggle to navigate the Downeast region wasn’t helping either.

With a shake of my head, I cursed my sister Rebecca’s untimely death that prompted the bequeathing of her old house, with all its secrets.

I’d never been to visit her since she bought the two-story Victorian.  

With a grumble, I continued along the road, fighting the rain as the robotic voice continued to badger me.  

“This is why I chose to live in a city, Becky,” I mumbled as I continued down the bumpy road with no turn-around in sight.  What was I thinking, moving out here?

But I’d left my Bostonian life behind, trading my one-room apartment that was way overpriced for having roaches and rats to move into the wilds of Maine.  I needed a change and more money than my artwork provided.

Guilt had eaten away at me, too, when I’d heard of my sister’s untimely death.  I thought we’d have plenty of time, yet here I was at thirty-four alone in the world.  My sister hadn’t even made it to her forties.  

Tears burned my eyes again as I veered to the side of the road and eased my car to a stop.  

As I sniffled for the dozenth time since I’d heard about Becky’s death, a car buzzed past me, leaving a wide berth and offering a wave as they passed my beat-up clunker.  

With a creased forehead, I automatically raised a hand back, wondering why they had waved and not flipped a crass gesture like I would have gotten in the city.  

A shaky sigh slipped from my lips as I wiped the tears from my cheeks and turned to check the road behind me. Empty, unsurprisingly. In this area, it was a wonder I had seen even one car. Since I hadn’t passed another vehicle the entire time I’d been traveling, I could probably turn around right here in the middle of the road, without risking my life or getting yelled at. I lifted my foot off the break and whipped my car around, turning back in the correct direction to satisfy the demands of my my GPS.  

“Your destination is ahead on the left,” she said after being appeased.  

I huffed with a roll of my eyes.  “No kidding.  But where?”

“You will arrive at your destination in four hundred and fifty feet.”

I wrinkled my nose at the screen.  “That means nothing to me.”

Why GPS’s insisted on giving you distances that seemed meaningless was beyond me.  I had no idea how to gauge this.  Before I could think more about this flaw in the system, the voice was yapping at me that I’d arrived at my destination.  

I slammed on my brakes, bracing myself against the steering wheel as I searched for the driveway.  

After squinting, I spotted the tip of the house hidden behind the hill and the gravel driveway.  

I swung my car into the driveway, the tires crunching over the stones.  Just clipping the grass on the side, I bounced toward the house, praying my shocks would hold up.  

The pristine white Victorian stood out against the gray skies and the lush green grass, the scent of fresh rain mingling with the salty sea air.  I ducked to take in the large windows, some featuring charming window boxes.  A spacious porch wrapped around the side of the house toward the back which faced the sea.  A short path led to the pebble-covered shore of Jasper Beach.  

I climbed from my car, pulling my hood tighter around me. The characteristic sound of the waves provided a soothing backdrop to the otherwise quiet surroundings.  

A shiver shook me as I raised my eyes to my new home.

Lost Time Chronicles

History was never supposed to change.

Confident • Guarded • Charismatic • Loyal

Graham knows how to wear a suit — and how to command a room. Charming, composed, and impossibly confident, he’s mastered the art of keeping the world at arm’s length after a first marriage that taught him hard lessons about trust. When a single photograph with a down-home cowgirl ignites a media frenzy, a fake marriage seems like the simplest way to control the narrative. But what begins as strategy slowly unravels his carefully guarded heart. The Polished Maverick doesn’t fall easily — but when he does, it’s with loyalty that runs deeper than anyone expects.

— Featured Scene —

“I did accidentally run into you this morning.  These are for you.”

She fluttered her eyelashes as she stared down at the dozen long-stemmed, red roses I thrust at her.  “Uh, well, that’s sweet, but you didn’t hurt me.  The boots have steel toes.”

“That’s cute,” I answered as I motioned at the inside of her room.  “May I?”

She stared at me, wide-eyed before she stumbled back a step. “Oh, you want to come in.  Uhh…”

Before she could turn me down, I stepped inside along with my two security guards and Virginia.  

“Sure, just…come on in,” she answered as she let the door snap shut.  

I twisted to face her as she set the flowers down on the table next to the uneaten turkey chili.  She tossed a lock of her flaxen hair over her shoulder before she sank her thumbs into the pockets of her jeans.  “Mind telling me why you just barged into my hotel room with a bouquet and that smooth smile?”

I arched my eyebrows.  She wasn’t going to be easy.  Why couldn’t I have stepped on one of those quiet, unassuming types who stared at me with doe eyes, her lower lip trembling?  

No, instead, I’d tromped on what sounded like a real southern peach with an attitude problem.  

“I would love to explain, yes.  Shall we sit down?”

“No,” she answered.  “I’d rather you just tell me why you’re here.”

“I’m here because of this.”  I snapped my fingers again, and Virginia handed Elsa the tablet.  

She hesitated before she took the device, her features crinkling as she stared at it, her lips tugging into an infuriatingly darling little pout.  “What is this?”

“That is a gossip column that tracks the city’s most influential people,” Virginia explained. “As you can see, the public is quite taken with the woman who made Graham Lockwood smile like that for the first time in…well, forever.”

I shifted my weight, still bothered by how real I looked in that image.  

“What?” Elsa glanced up at Virginia, then shifted her gaze to me.  “Why is this picture on here? Who took it?”

“Paparazzi.  They’re relentless,” I said. 

She handed the tablet back to Virginia, stuffing her hand in her pockets again. “All right.  Thank you for stopping by to show it to me.  I could have lived without knowing, though.”

I chuckled a little.  Maybe she wouldn’t be so bad.  “Actually, I’m here for another reason.”

Her eyes went wide as they slid sideways. “Okay.”

“You see, that image…well, that image makes me look human.”

The little crease between her eyebrows deepened.  “Are you not?” 

I chuckled a little, more amused by it than I wanted to admit.  “My ex-wife and half of my board would say no.  But that image…well, that image has people thinking I do have a heart.”

She offered me a slight smile, sweet and addicting.  I wondered what it looked like when she wasn’t guarded.  “Great for you.  I’m so happy for ya.”

“No, you don’t understand.  You see, I’m in a bit of bind.  My board isn’t very happy with my current image.  I’ve been through…a lot lately.”

“Sorry to hear that,” she said.

“But you…you apparently are the answer to all my problems.”

Her eyebrows raised as she stared at me, confusion etched in her features. “Me?” 

“Yes, you, Elsa.” I grinned at her, confident and careful.  “People saw this picture, and everything changed.  Everything.”

“I fail to see how a snapshot of us bumping into each other changes everything.”

“But it does,” I said.

Virginia stepped forward, preparing the folder with the contract I’d already had drawn up.  “Mr. Lockwood’s image is badly in need of repair.  But this photo…well, this photo has already started to do damage control.  Everyone is waiting, wondering who is this new woman in his life?  You are wholesome as a tall glass of ice cold milk.”

“Which is why,” I picked up, “I have a proposal for you.”

Virginia held the folder out, and Elsa took it, suspiciously glance at her, then me.  

She flicked it open, her features pinching with confusion and shock. Her lips parted as she snapped her gaze up to meet mine before she spun on a heel and stormed toward the door.

My heart skipped a beat.  Was she about to bolt?  

But she opened the door and peered into the hall.  

“What are you doing?” I asked. 

“Where are the cameras?” She shifted her focus to the security guards. “Are you filming this?”

“Uhh, no,” I said with a shake of my head, my eyes narrowing.  

“This is some sort of joke, right?”

“I assure you, it is not,” Virginia answered curtly as she adjusted her black-rimmed glasses.  

Elsa licked her lips as she opened the folder again. “But this says…”

Her voice trailed off, and I took a step forward.  “Yes.  It says that I need you to play the role of doting spouse for a year, and in return you will be handsomely compensated.”

She glanced up at me again, suspicion dancing in her eyes.  “Why?”

“I told you.  I have a little bit of an image problem.  You seem to be able to fix that.  So, I’d like to enter into an agreement that’s mutually beneficial.  I get my image fixed.  You get a couple million dollars.  It works out for everyone.” I shrugged and grinned at her like this was perfectly normal.  

She frowned again. “You want me to pretend to be your wife for a year.”

Her words came slow, her drawl even more exaggerated.  

I cleared my throat. “Yes, that is the deal.  You could…sound less incredulous when you say it.”

“Well, I’m sorry, Slick, but this isn’t exactly a normal thing.”

I pressed my lips together, glancing at the others in the room.  “Mind giving a minute alone?”

Virginia arched an eyebrow, but motioned for the security guards to precede her before she gave me one final glance, then let the door click softly closed.  I imagined her with her ear pressed against the door as she waited.  

I let the air settle between us before I took a step closer, not encroaching, but confident.  “So, it seems you’re a little…reluctant.”

“It’s an odd offer,” she answered as she stared at the paperwork again.

“Not really.  It’s just a business deal.”

“Do you often buy love?” she asked candidly.

I chuckled, a genuine laugh as I shook my head. “No.  No, I don’t, and that’s not what I’m doing.  I didn’t say love.  I said you act like you’re in love.  It’s not that hard, really.  Women do it all the time.”

Her eyebrow arched. “With you, I assume.”

“Well, my first wife certainly did.  And for far longer than a year,” I informed her with a wag of my finger and a chuckle.  

“Uh-huh,” she murmured, still looking far too unimpressed for my taste.  

I’d spend years in the boardroom, making deals, taking down opponents, I could read all the signs.  I was losing this one.  I had to get it back–quick.

“Is there something not to your taste in the deal?”

“Well, Slick, the entire deal is a little sketchy, don’t you think?  Why would you pay me to pretend to love you when you presumably could find another ex-wife to pretend.”

“Because I don’t want another ex-wife.  I don’t want another woman.  I want you.”  I stepped closer, my words low and intimate.  

Maggie Edwards Adventures

Some treasures are worth the trouble.

Cinematic • Reckless • Clever • Thrilling

Maggie Edwards never planned to spend her life chasing lost treasures across the globe. But after one dangerous adventure to find her missing archaeologist uncle, she discovers she has a talent for surviving ancient traps, uncovering hidden relics, and getting herself into spectacular trouble. Now working alongside powerful government agencies, Maggie races across the world hunting secrets others would kill to possess — preferably while looking fabulous doing it.

— Featured Scene —

“He supposed the same thing you did. The lack of information pointed more to the existence of the object than against it. I’m not sure. Either way, I’m not sure I can be of more help to you. Oliver would be the best one to answer any further questions. He’s built a repository of information on the object. I only have stories like this one to share.” Amy pointed to the book.

Maggie smiled at her and nodded. “Thanks. Uncle Ollie is still out of the country, so I figured I’d take my chances here before he was back. This is helpful. Would you mind making a copy of this page for me?”

“Not at all,” Amy agreed. “Just give me a sec.” She grabbed the book and disappeared from the room. 

Within two minutes she returned, handing a warm paper to Maggie and placing the book back on her shelf. “Sorry, it’s only black and white. My copier isn’t color!”

“No problem, this is all I need. Thank you so much for your time, Amy. I really appreciate it!”

“No problem! Tell Ollie I said ‘hi’ next time you see him! And if you wouldn’t mind, could you let me know the origin of this once you speak with him? I’d love to know where he found it!”

“Sure! Thanks again.” Maggie stood and retrieved her purse, slipping the beetle inside along with the folded copy. 

“You’re welcome. How’s your business going?”

“Good! My customer base has increased with the addition of the antiques. Stop by sometime if you have a chance. I’m sure you’d enjoy looking through our collection.”

“I’ve been meaning to, but I always end up staying at work too late. With my master’s defense around the corner, it seems all I do is work.”

“Ha! I understand completely! Well, whenever you need a break, we’re open! Thanks again.” Maggie backed from the room, making her way down the hall and back to the lobby. 

She exited the museum, descending the large stone steps. The warm sun shone overhead. She strolled through the parking lot, a shortcut to the nearest street. As she passed the cars, her mind turned to her conversation with Amy. She failed to notice movement to her left until it was too late. 

A figure darted from between two vehicles, approaching her from the rear. A scream rose from Maggie’s throat as hands grabbed her. A firm hand clamped over her mouth, muffling her. She struggled but was dragged backward toward a van and tossed inside. She scrambled toward the door as it was slammed in her face.

Northwatch Echo Mysteries

The wilderness remembers what time forgets.

Atmospheric • Haunting • Emotional • Mysterious

After her parents’ deaths uncover a devastating family secret, Sarah travels deep into the remote wilderness of northern Maine searching for the biological father she never knew existed. But in the isolated town of Northwatch, strange whispers drift through the forests, clocks slow without explanation, and the past seems determined to reach through time itself. As Sarah investigates long-buried mysteries, she begins to realize the wilderness remembers far more than it should.

— Featured Scene —

Fragmented images tore through my mind.  Pine trees.  Mountains.  Water.  A sign welcoming me.  Dark road stretching ahead, lit only by dim headlights.  

A ghostly voice whispered, “Find him.” 

I shivered all over, an icy cold turning my breath visible as I gripped my steering wheel.  

I didn’t remember how I’d gotten here.  But the sign had clearly said Northwatch, Maine. 

With a start, I slammed on the brakes.  The tires screeched against the black pavement as my fingers tightened around the leather of my steering wheel.  

My eyebrows knitted as I stared at the sign I’d seen in my mother’s picture.  “What?” I murmured.

Something rustled my hair, and a second later, that ethereal voice tickled my ear again. “Come home, Sarah.” 

I woke up, gasping for breath, drenched in sweat.  

The red numbers glowed on my clock, telling me it was nearly time to get up.  With shaky hands, I slid the covers back and climbed from my bed.  

My alarm buzzed the moment my feet slid into my fluffy slippers.  I slapped at it until it quieted before I shuffled into the bathroom.

A steamy shower woke me up, but the dream lingered no matter how far I got from it.  

Those words—no, not words—a directive.  

Why did it seem so unshakeable?

I toweled off and pulled on my clothes just as the doorbell rang.  

With a sigh, I grabbed my duffel bag and slung it over my shoulder before I descended the stairs.  

I pulled open the front door to find Aunt Barb on the doorstep.  “Morning.”

With a weak smile, I motioned for her to come inside.  

She stepped in, her eyes roaming over the interior—unchanged from what she’d seen only two days prior.  “Please tell me you changed your mind.” 

I pressed my lips together and shook my head.  

Her eyes landed on the bag pressed against my hip.  “So you’re still going through with this?” 

She huffed when I only nodded. “Sarah, this is a mistake.  You’re grieving.  Please think about this.” 

“I have.  And I don’t have anything here, Aunt Barb.  Mom and Dad are gone.  I don’t need this big house.”  I shrugged. 

I’d rehearsed this over and over again in my mind.  From the time I’d texted her to tell her I’d be listing the house and traveling until I decided where I wanted to settle, she’d been against it.  

Her jaw firmed a little, her nostrils flaring. “Sarah, sweetheart, I know this was a shock, but listen to me, okay?  You’re going to regret this.  You’re going to regret moving this fast.” 

“I don’t think it’s a mistake.  Okay?  I already took everything I wanted from the house.” I swung the front door open and headed into the bright Phoenix sun, shielding my eyes.  “The rest is going to be picked up by the charity on Thursday.  And the realtor is selling the house as furnished.” 

“Sarah…”

I tugged open the back door of my crossover and tossed the bag inside, nestling it among the other things I’d packed during the week.  “Aunt Barb, please.  You don’t know the circumstances here.”

“I do.  You’re reeling.  This was a shock. And you think leaving it all behind is going to make this easier.  It’ll distract you, sure.  But then the regrets are going to come.  And it’s going to be too late.  Everything is going to be gone.”

I slammed the door before I headed back into the house to do one final sweep before I climbed into the car and headed off.  “You don’t understand.  I have to do this.” 

Pearl Party Mysteries

Murder always crashes the party.

Charming • Funny • Whimsical • Cozy

Running a pearl jewelry business in a charming coastal town was supposed to be simple — until murder kept crashing the party. Between oyster shuckings, small-town gossip, and jewelry events gone spectacularly wrong, sisters Kelly and Jodi constantly find themselves tangled in deadly mysteries. Luckily, uncovering secrets turns out to be just as satisfying as finding the perfect pearl.

— Featured Scene —

Pearl wandered in and plopped in the center of the couch. The waitstaff filtered through with more champagne. Kelly and Jodi snagged another glass.

“We might need this,” Kelly said, as she eyed the screen.

“Yeah,” Jodi agreed. “I hope Pearl doesn’t have another outburst like she did at dinner. Talk about uncomfortable.”

Kelly nodded, her eyebrows shooting high as she sipped at the pink champagne. The lights flickered again before reviving. Melissa fiddled with a remote, waving it at the screen until a blue light shone on it. After a moment, and a bit more fiddling on Melissa’s part, an image sprang to life. With one more emphatic push on the remote, music filled the air, and pictures of Pearl as a baby floated across the screen, captions appearing below them.  

“Even as a baby, Pearl was incredible!” the screen boasted.  

“Wow, it’s getting deep,” Kelly murmured.

“No kidding,” Jodi said.

Thunder boomed overhead again, and lightning flashed through the windows. The video played for another minute, before another massive clap of thunder shook the house. The loud bang made everyone jump. Then the room plunged into darkness.

Women shouted as the lights went out and the music slowed to a stop.  Kelly reached blindly to her left and clamped her hand onto Jodi’s arm. At least, she hoped it was Jodi’s arm.  

“Great!” she groaned. Movement swept around the room. Someone bumped into Kelly, sending her spiraling forward as she desperately attempted to keep her balance. A croaking groan sounded, before everything whirred back to life.

Jodi grasped Kelly to prevent her from falling. “Whew, thanks,” she said, as the lights came up. The music resumed and pictures continued to parade across the now-lit screen.  

“That was scary,” Kelly murmured, glancing at Jodi. Jodi’s jaw hung open and her face was two shades paler than normal. “What’s wrong with you?”

Jodi’s lower lip bobbed up and down, but no noise emerged. A look of panicked terror wrinkled her forehead.  

Without a word, Jodi pointed toward the sofa. Gasps began to ring out from the group. Kelly followed the line of Jodi’s pointed finger, her eyes widening as she spotted the scene.  

“Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed, her hand shooting up to cover her gaping mouth.  

Across the room, sprawled on the sofa sat Pearl.  With her eyes closed and her limbs slack, Kelly’s shucking knife stuck out from Pearl’s chest.