A fast-paced thriller by Emmy Award-nominated screenwriter, producer, and director Gy Waldron
Detective Sgt. Kate Flynn of the Santa Barbara Police Department is called in to investigate a gruesome decapitation and homicide. Her first clue comes from a most unlikely source: an Anglican monk and Celtic studies expert. Brother Thomas has been expecting the hand-delivery of a priceless diary of a fourteenth-century Templar Knight, but instead he finds the messenger has been murdered. Kate and Thomas are pulled deep into a centuries-old mystery with roots in medieval Europe and branches that lead to government intelligence, the Vatican, and a top-secret private lab where untold powers were being alchemized that could alter the face of humanity forever.
It’s a race against evil to uncover a plot that could lead them to centuries-old treasure-or to their own demise at the hands of a deranged tech billionaire who has nothing to lose.
With parallel quests for the truth taking place centuries apart, and a touch of mysticism, readers will be taken on a suspenseful journey with one twist after another in Twist of Time, an electrifying novel of intrigue and history.
Readers of thrillers and novels of suspense by Dan Brown, Ken Follett, David Baldacci will savor every surprise in screenwriter Gy Waldron’s fiction debut.
Book Details:
Genre: Thriller
Published by: First Fruits Publishing Publication Date: August 20, 2024 Number of Pages: 336 ISBN: 9798869378163
Gy Waldron is an Emmy Award-nominated screenwriter, producer, and director who has written chart-topping television sitcoms, dramas, miniseries, and movies. He has created three network series, including The Dukes of Hazzard, and is known for the action-comedy film Moonrunners, which he wrote and directed.He started his writing career in Hollywood working as a staff writer for legendary producer Norman Lear on hit shows such as One Day at a Time. After an eight-year run with The Dukes of Hazzard, he segued into true crime limited series. He received an Emmy Award nomination for the six-hour limited series Billionaire Boys Club, and wrote other projects, including The Menendez Brothers, Brotherhood of the Rose, Innocent Victims, and The Unabomber.His creative work for theater received an American National Theater and Academy (ANTA) Award.In 2024, Gy Waldron received a Grady Fellowship from his alma mater, the Grady College of Journalism and Mass Communications at the University of Georgia. Whether writing for screen, for the stage, or for readers around the world, Waldron is widely known for his unique blend of action, comedy, and suspense, always leaving audiences highly entertained.With a background of serving in U.S. counterintelligence in Europe, Gy (a.k.a. Gyneth) has written about the fields of intelligence and crime. Stationed in Germany in the late 1950s, he was on the KGB desk working with captured Gestapo files and monitoring CIC (Counter Intelligence Corps) operations against various Communist intelligence services during the Cold War. Additionally, he worked with American operatives in executing orders from U.S. Command.He draws heavily on his experiences when writing fiction. Prior to his career in Hollywood, Gy worked in broadcast television at WSB-TV in Atlanta, Georgia. There, he was a director of specials, sports, and documentaries. Gy worked on many civil rights documentaries and directed feeds to NBC’s Huntley-Brinkley Report that focused on Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and his associates.A native Southerner, he now lives in Malibu, California, in a canyon between the mountains and the ocean where he is writing his next novel, Fugue.
Publication date: March 4th 2025
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance
Who accidentally has a one-night stand with her yoga instructor?
Yep. Me.
How did I accidentally sleep with someone, right? I know what you’re thinking. Whoops! I slipped and inadvertently inserted Tab A into Slot B.
That’s not quite how it went.
But my yoga instructor is really, really skilled with Tab A, if you know what I mean.
Slot B never had it so good.
What am I supposed to do now, as I walk into my yoga class and find the guy I ghosted this morning… there, in front of the class, perfectly aligned and grinning at me like he remembers touching all my chakras.
He’s perfect. Too perfect. He’s so perfect he’s ruining my job.
I’m an investigative reporter, working on spec for an article for a national magazine, and my job is to find all the ways this yoga chain is corrupt.
The only thing criminal here is that I can’t have him in Slot B ever again. And I would. I’d turn myself into a paper doll book if that’s what it took for more of that action.
I want him. He wants me. Nothing I do will make him back off because the chemistry is off the charts.
Except for one pesky little
We’re at cross-purposes.
I need my exposé to get the job of my dreams. He needs to sell his stake in the yoga chain before I expose the corrupt current owner.
That makes him my enemy. My nemesis. The guy I have to get around to get ahead.
Because in ten minutes, we’re going to pretend this never happened.
Pretend I didn’t go to a bar last night and have three glasses of pinot grigio, violating my strict two-glass limit.
Pretend I didn’t let my friends talk me into jumping up on stage and singing “WAP,” complete with properly choreographed dance moves.
Pretend I did not let N.M. here buy me a drink and kiss him like my tongue had developed magnets that sought out his iron tonsils.
And he most certainly did not kiss me back with a suave, athletic grace that made my body shimmer and my P, indeed, become deeply W.
Oh, no.
While technically, all of that did happen, and I invited him back to my apartment and we did the two-back nasty so many times I am pretty sure we need to invent a new prime number for it, in ten – now, nine – minutes, Mr. N.M. doesn’t exist.
My life has firm boundaries.
Speaking of firm –
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About Author Julia Kent:
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. Since 2013, she has sold more than 2 million books, with 4 New York Times bestsellers and more than 21 appearances on the USA Today bestseller list. Her books have been translated into French, German, and Italian, with more titles releasing in the future.
From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men’s room toilet (and he isn’t a billionaire she met in a romantic comedy).
She lives in New England with her husband and three children where she is the only person in the household with the gene required to change empty toilet paper rolls.
She loves to hear from her readers by email at julia@jkentauthor.com, on Twitter @jkentauthor, on Facebook at @jkentauthor, and on Instagram @jkentauthor. Visit her at http://jkentauthor.com
Gone Girl‘s twists, The Social Network’s scheming, and Agatha Christie’s detective sleuthing coalesce in this suspenseful mystery fiction novel set in Toronto in a mid-pandemic business environment.
When Tom Oliver, a successful Canadian entrepreneur, is offered millions from a Silicon Valley company for his data analytics business, he believes his only challenges as he considers the offer will be deciding on next steps for his company and reconciling with his aloof wife. What could possibly go wrong? Things escalate quickly when Tom is targeted by an unknown perpetrator and his inner circle of family and colleagues comes under scrutiny. Tom’s friend, homicide detective Jason Liu, strives to keep Tom safe while he investigates to find the truth. Who would want to murder a well-liked tech CEO at the top of his game, and why? A progression of intriguing plot twists takes this bingeworthy thriller through business, politics, social media, interpersonal relationships, and even equestrian scenarios. When the dust has settled literally motivations become clear, and Tom discovers that while some relationships are worthy of long-term investment, others have expiration dates.
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Praise for Devious Web:
“Writing with aplomb about a corporate world she clearly knows, Shelley Grandy has come up with a pulse-pounding psychological thriller and whodunit, with political overtones, that fully captivates. She keeps you guessing until the very end, making this an impossible book to put down.” ~ Jude Berman, author of The Die
“A truly captivating read! Shelley Grandy weaves together a web of suspense and intrigue in Devious Web, leaving readers spellbound until the final page. With its engaging plot and well-drawn characters, this book is a thrilling must-read for any lover of suspense fiction.” ~ Kelley Keehn, best-selling author of Talk Money to Me and Rich Girl, Broke Girl
“A thrilling and well-crafted read that will captivate fans of tech-driven mysteries.” ~ Publishers Weekly BookLife Reviews
“Shelley Grandy builds a complex story packed with twists and turns. Tension, characters, and connections are so well-constructed that even savvy murder mystery readers won’t see many of these developments coming.” ~ Midwest Book Review
Book Details:
Genre: Thriller
Published by: SparkPress Publication Date: October 15, 2024 Number of Pages: 272 ISBN: 9781684632749 (ISBN10: 1684632749)
The pandemic had not been kind to Lawrence Cameron, at least not to his waistline. As The Big Guy strode across the restaurant to join him for dinner, Tom could easily see that Lawrence had packed on a few more pounds while working from home. Toronto’s legendary finance guru and media commentator had earned his nickname for his investing prowess, but now the term was even more suitable for the six-foot-two-inch, 250-pound influencer.
When Tom stood to greet him at their table, Lawrence gave him his usual whack on the back and the now customary COVID-19 elbow bump. Even though Tom had played football in high school and was himself six feet tall, he always felt dwarfed by his main investor and personal mentor. Maybe it was also because of the gap in experience between them, as Lawrence was twenty years older. “Tom, how’s my favorite entrepreneur doing?” Lawrence asked while settling into the comfortable leather banquette reserved especially for him by the manager of ONE, the see-and-be-seen restaurant adjacent to the Hazelton Hotel in Toronto’s upscale Yorkville enclave. “Good, thanks, Lawrence, but crazy busy with all that’s going on with the business, as you can imagine,” Tom responded. “No doubt. And I bet you never thought that seven years in, you would have brought Pellucid so far!” Lawrence said. Tom agreed as he reflected on how truly surreal it was that the data analytics software company he had founded— Pellucid—was valued at over US $200 million, and a Silicon Valley company was now proposing an acquisition. To have hit that milestone at the age of thirty-eight is honestly mind-blowing, Tom thought. “I’m looking forward to hearing your updates today, Tom, but given that Grace just put me on a no-frills diet, I’m definitely ready to dive into this menu before we get started,” Lawrence joked. Tom smiled, knowing that Lawrence’s second wife, Grace, did her best to keep her husband’s life—and his weight—balanced. He knew Lawrence would be eyeing the restaurant’s signature lobster spoons as an appetizer and something carb-heavy and definitely not on Grace’s diet plan for the main course. While Lawrence ordered for them, Tom admired the contemporary styling of the chic restaurant. It’s the little things everyone missed during the restrictions of the pandemic, like being able to get together with friends or enjoying this kind of ambience, Tom thought. Yorkville, with its high-end boutiques and elegant hotels and restaurants, was where Toronto’s elite dined and shopped. It wasn’t part of Tom’s typical day-to-day, but he and his wife, Miriam, sometimes had drinks at ONE’s expansive bar because the art gallery she curated was just around the corner. After the waiter had filled their glasses with a Chianti Classico wine, Lawrence leaned forward and spoke quietly so other diners wouldn’t overhear. “So, what about the acquisition? What’s the latest from Crystal Clere?” he asked. Tom confided that the California artificial intelligence company’s CEO had confirmed he would be offering US $250 million in cash and stock to acquire Pellucid. The next step would be for Tom to receive a letter of intent formalizing the offer, and then Pellucid’s board would have until September 15—about six weeks—to decide whether to approve the sale. “I’m open to the offer, which is certainly substantial, but I still feel a bit reluctant, Lawrence. I always envisioned taking Pellucid to an IPO on the TSX and Nasdaq myself. On the other hand, it’s hard to turn down a huge payout from a well-established company like Crystal Clere that’s a great fit for our software,” Tom said. “Not only that, Tom, but as they say, timing is everything. The pandemic has shown you never know what kind of economic climate you might encounter just when you’re ready to take the company public. Sometimes it’s good to take a profit and focus on the next opportunity,” Lawrence said, as he nodded to acknowledge a couple of people passing by their table who obviously recognized the Big Guy from media interviews. “That’s a great point, especially after everything we’ve seen over the last year, from market volatility to the January 6 insurrection,” Tom agreed. “It definitely creates a more opportunistic mindset.” “And of course, I wouldn’t object if my investment in Pellucid netted out to a nice-sized return,” Lawrence quipped. “Ha, I’m sure!” Tom replied. “Well, for now, Winston is earning his CFO pay and then some, working through the due diligence to address all the financials, and Crystal Clere’s CEO and I are in discussions ensuring we’re well aligned. But so far, I can say that I like what I see. And that’s important because if we sell, they’ll probably want me and possibly a couple of my senior team to commit to working for a year or so as part of Crystal Clere.” “Yes, it’s pretty standard for the acquiring company to want at least the CEO to stay on for continuity,” Lawrence agreed. “Overall, you’ve got this, Tom. Working through the process, making sure you have all the information up front, and doing the due diligence is the right approach. Then when you have all the facts and feel comfortable, I’m sure it will be easier to make your final decision. And, of course, whatever direction you decide to take, the board of directors must be onside with it as well.” Tom nodded agreement as Lawrence twirled some of his impressively presented main-course seafood linguini onto his fork. “Okay, so fill me in on Patrick,” Lawrence said. “I know you were having some issues with him last time we talked. How did that net out?” Tom sighed. It had been a tough situation to manage. Five years before, Tom had met Patrick McGowan at the stable where they both boarded horses and had soon hired Patrick to be his business development manager. The two men were close in age but had vastly different personalities. While Patrick’s Irish flair and direct manner with prospects had proven helpful in building the business, his proclivity for partying had created problems. Tom shared with Lawrence that he’d had no choice but to fire Patrick and, after a contentious final meeting with him, he suspected their friendship had been permanently shattered. “That’s unfortunate, Tom,” Lawrence said. “But eventually Patrick’s shenanigans would have attracted attention and reflected badly on Pellucid. I know you hate being tough on people, but didn’t he lose an investor for you when he missed a key meeting?” Tom indicated that had indeed been the last straw and agreed he had run out of options when it came to keeping Patrick on his payroll. The two men lingered over coffee and liqueurs while reviewing Pellucid’s latest quarterly results, upcoming sales pipeline, and the company’s case study currently in development at Tom’s father-in-law’s business in North Carolina, one of Tom’s biggest early-stage clients. “Are you staying here in Yorkville tonight or at your place?” Tom asked as he and Lawrence concluded their business. “Next door at the Hazelton,” Lawrence replied. “Grace and I have been living up north at the cottage during the pandemic, and I’m more comfortable playing tourist here in Yorkville rather than rattling around our big house in Rosedale without Grace.” Tom chuckled at Lawrence’s candor and, as always, admired the close relationship Lawrence had with his wife. The two men parted ways, with Lawrence going to the bar for a final nightcap before turning in and Tom heading for home. *** Excerpt from Devious Web by Shelley Grandy. Copyright 2024 by Shelley Grandy. Reproduced with permission from Shelley Grandy. All rights reserved.
About Author Shelley Grandy:
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Shelley Grandy is a Canadian communications professional whose journalism degree from Ottawa’s Carleton University fueled a career that started in newspapers and progressed to a high-tech company, Nortel. She subsequently founded Grandy Public Relations Inc. and has supported tech sector clients in Ontario and Quebec for the past fifteen years. You can find her at the boarding stable with her horses, Chancey and Briosa. Shelley lives in Trenton, Ontario, Canada, with husband Roy, Husky dog Luka, and cat Otto, and within spoiling distance of her granddaughters, Emilia and Olivia Oulds.
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(The Wild Rose Press)
Publication date: March 3rd 2025
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, Suspense
Annie O’Toole is St. Louis Public Defender, passionate about fighting for the underdog and determined to prove herself as the badass trial lawyer she knows she can be. Getting assigned to defend the kid charged with shooting billionaire businessman, Michael Grayson, is a big step up for her career. At least until the hot guy she seduced at the Justice for All Ball shows up at her office in response to her deposition subpoena. Turns out the sexy stranger who introduced himself only as ‘Mick’, the guy she’s been fantasizing about since slipping away while he slept — is none other than the billionaire himself, Michael Grayson.
She’s horrified. He’s furious. He thinks she set him up. She thinks he’s an arrogant ass in a Savile Row suit. Sparks, intrigue, and bullets fly in a mix of swoon and suspense as the two battle each other, the bad guys, and an off-limits attraction neither can ignore. When the evidence leads back into Michael’s inner corporate circle, the two are plunged into a world of international intrigue, corporate espionage, and murder — with a side dish of unresolved family drama as Annie is forced to turn to the only expert in corporate intrigue she knows, her own uber-wealthy, estranged grandmother. Now all she has to do is solve the case, escape her grandmother’s plans to take over her life (again), and save her client, her career, and the man whose lifestyle she despises . . . and whose touch she can’t forget.
Michael wouldn’t have been surprised to see actual sparks flashing from her fingertips, given the effect of her touch on his skin. He pulled her against him, his hands sliding down over her hips to cup her ass, drinking in the feel and smell of her. But without her heels, she barely reached the middle of his chest. He grabbed her hand and led her to the bed.
“Climb up,” he ordered. “I want you at eye level.”
She laughed. “I’m not that short.”
He wrapped a fist in her tousled curls and pulled her to him. Bending his mouth to her ear, he sunk his teeth into her earlobe. She jumped.
“Get on the damn bed,” he whispered into her ear.
She scrambled onto the bed.
“Much better,” he murmured.
He ran his hands up her thighs until his fingers brushed the tiny swath of lace beneath the shimmering fabric of her dress. She inhaled sharply as he slid his fingers between the lace and the silk of her skin. He loved the way her breath hitched at his touch. He slid the lace slowly down her legs.
“I think you just stole my turn,” she breathed, her palms on his shoulders as she stepped out of the thong.
“Royal prerogative. The prince makes the rules— and can change them.” He let the lace fall to the floor and ran his fingers lightly back up her legs, enjoying the subtle shifting of her body in response to his touch.
“Don’t princesses get to make rules too?” she murmured, her eyes closed. “Or am I Cin—”
He pressed his fingers to her lips, cutting her off mid-syllable. “Sin is exactly what you are…temptation incarnate.”
Her lips curved. “My, you do credit me with extraordinary powers.”
He brushed his lips beneath her earlobe. “How would you feel about turning those extraordinary powers over to me for the night?”
She opened her eyes. It appeared to take a bit of an effort. “Hmm?”
“Are you amenable to being my royal subject for the night?”
She stilled. A beat of silence stretched between them.
“Depends on what you mean. Are we talking ‘safe word’ kind of subject?” she finally asked.
He smiled. “No safe word required.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Is that because you are the serial killer I suspected and I’m going to die no matter what?”
He clicked his tongue. “Damn. Shouldn’t have used my credit card to pay for this room. What was I thinking?” His hands moved to her waist, and he kissed the hollow of her neck. “Looks like I’ll have to let you survive the night after all.” He traced a slow finger down to where her cleavage disappeared in the fabric of her dress. She shivered. His pulse kicked up a beat.
“So?” he asked again.
She shot him a half-apologetic look. “I’m not a very compliant person.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Ah, but that’s what makes it interesting. Stepping out of your comfort zone heightens the experience.” His fingertip slowly circled first one nipple, then the other, through her dress.
Her eyes fluttered closed. “You make it really hard to think straight.”
He stepped back, lifting his hands up in the air. “Far be it from me to confuse the decision-making process. Take all the time you need.”
She shot him an exasperated look, then bit her lower lip, considering him. Finally, a half-smile flitted across those lips. “What the hell—so long as no safe words are required—long live the prince.”
His cock saluted her decision. Affecting a calm neither he nor his anatomy felt, he moved away from her and sat in the chair by the window. Crossing one ankle over his knee, he took his sweet time perusing her, his gaze raking her body. She fidgeted.
“Stand still,” he ordered.
She froze.
He let the tension build for a long minute, then said. “Take off your dress. Slowly.”
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About Author Cat Jameson:
Cat Jameson is a writer of contemporary romance novels packed with equal parts suspense, snark, and spice. A native Missourian, she moved to St. Louis to attend law school, sure only that she didn’t want to practice criminal law or be a trial lawyer. So of course, she became a career criminal defense lawyer who spent decades teaching trial techniques to other criminal lawyers around the country. (“We make plans. The gods laugh.”)
Cat spent most of her legal career in St. Louis and the city features prominently in her books, as does her experience in criminal law. Today, she resides in Columbia, Missouri — ‘the middle of the middle of flyover country’ — where she is deep into her second act as co-owner of a metaphysical bookstore.
When not writing, shopkeeping, or playing with grandkids, Jameson is most likely to be road-tripping with her best friend and business partner in a ten-year-old van named Woo — stopping at every bookstore and thrift shop along the way, loading up on things they do not need and have no room for.
Ten years ago, Reagan’s friend died in a tragic accident.
But what if it wasn’t an accident?
The morning after a raging college graduation party, we found Lanie Martin
lying at the bottom of a ravine, her neck snapped in a fatal fall. And I’m not
proud of what came next.
Before we called the police, we covered ourselves. Cleaned up from the blow-out
at Ella’s cabin in the Adirondacks the night before. Got our stories straight.
Ella begged me not to tell the police what I saw. She insisted that it was an
accident—and we all went along. What did I know? I was plastered that night,
and large chunks of that evening are missing for me.
But now, in my postpartum state, memories are starting to return, and I can’t
help but feel that they might be connected to the soul crushing depression I’ve
been experiencing. Is it guilt? Or do I know more than I think I do?
So when I receive Ella’s invitation for a ten-year reunion at her family camp—a
gathering of remembrance and healing, she’s calling it—I know I have to go.
Are the memories I’m struggling to recover the key to my moving on? To being
able to take care of my infant son and stay married to the perfect man?
Or are they a death sentence for me, too?
“The Unforgetting is a great read filled with tension on every
page, stunning twist after twist, and a mind-blowing ending that you’ll never
see coming. Highly recommended!” – R.G. Belsky, author of the Clare
Carlson series.
“The Unforgetting is a riveting, twisty, slow-burn atmospheric
thriller that will delight and disturb, in the best possible ways. Highly
recommended.” Douglas Corleone, international bestselling author of Falls
to Pieces
Gyrating to the rhythm of the blaring music, I want to be one with the flames. They dance in a way I envy, shooting up and down in sharp angles, casting shadows over the partiers, giving them a ghoulish look. Some of the people I know. Many I don’t. We twist and writhe and merge with the music.
Nirvana.
So fitting.
The smell of burning wood permeates my nostrils, mixing with reefer and patchouli oil. Embers float down like sparkling rubies in the twinkling night sky. A red-hot one lands on my shoulder. I bat it off, singeing the hairs on my hand, but I don’t flinch.
This is what the afterlife must feel like. When you become a bodiless bundle of energy, no longer tethered to the corporal world, free to roam around the atmosphere.
A blood-curdling scream comes from…somewhere.
Something bad is happening.
But we don’t stop.
We can’t stop.
We keep dancing and laughing and soon the flames are too hot and it’s not fun anymore and I think maybe, just maybe, that was my scream I heard in the woods.
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Bonnie Traymore is the award-winning, Amazon best selling
author of page-turner mystery/thrillers that hit close to home. Her books
feature strong but relatable female protagonists. The plots explore difficult
topics such as jealousy, infidelity, murder, and the impact of psychological
disorders, but she also includes bits of romance and humor to lighten the mood
from time to time. She’s an active status member of International Thriller
Writers and Mystery Writers of America.
The Case of the Christie Conspiracy: A Detection Club Mystery Historical Cozy Mystery 1st in Series Setting – London, England Publisher : Boldwood Books (February 16, 2025) Paperback : 264 pages ISBN-10 : 1836175469 ISBN-13 : 978-1836175469 Digital ASIN : B0DFXWPCFP
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Agatha Christie is about to embark on a new, gripping murder case. But this time, she’s not the author – she’s a suspect…
1926 – Christie is a darling of the literary circuit and the most desired guest in London’s glittering social scene. She can often be found at meetings of the Detection Club – where mystery writers come together to share ideas, swap secrets and drink copiously. But then a fellow author’s initiation ceremony takes a gruesome turn, and one of the group ends up dead. Now, Agatha is no longer just the creator of great mystery plots – she’s a player in one.
And when Agatha disappears the day after the murder, she’s widely assumed to be guilty. Only Eliza Baker, assistant to the Club’s enigmatic secretary, Dorothy Sayers, is interested in investigating the case. But in a world where murder is the ultimate plot device, can Eliza piece together the evidence and find the killer before it’s too late?
About Kelly Oliver
Kelly Oliver is the award-winning and bestselling author of four mystery series: The Jessica James Mysteries (7-book contemporary suspense); The Pet Detective Mysteries (3-book middle grade); The Fiona Figg Mysteries (9-book historical cozies).
The Case of the Christie Conspiracy, the first in her new series The Detection Club Mysteries just came out (February 2025).
Kelly is Distinguished Emerita Professor of Philosophy at Vanderbilt University. And currently, she is the Immediate Past President of Sisters in Crime. To learn more about Kelly and her books, go to www.kellyoliverbooks.com.
A Side Dish of Death (Urban Tails Pet Shop Mysteries)
by T. C. LoTempio
A Side Dish of Death (Urban Tails Pet Shop Mysteries) Cozy Mystery 5th in Series Setting – Connecticut Publisher : Beyond the Page Publishing (February 25, 2025) Print length : 257 pages Digital ASIN : B0DW4JDTH5
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When a celebrity chef is murdered, Shell McMillan has to cook up a plan to trap the killer of a man for all seasonings . . .
With adopt-a-cat month in full swing in Fox Hollow, pet shop owner Shell McMillan decides that hosting a night of murder mystery dinner theater will be a fun way to raise funds for the cause. But she didn’t realize that the celebrity chef she’d hired for the event would turn out to be a tyrannical snob, or that her scoundrel of an ex-fiancé would turn up with his own shady agenda. Still, the show must go on, and as the lighthearted plot on-stage unfolds, the scene off-stage turns decidedly darker when the chef is found murdered.
Rather than question an entire roomful of possible suspects, Shell determines that looking into the victim’s past will lead her to the culprit more quickly. What she finds is that the chef had left behind a disreputable past and a trail of disgruntled people, including a long string of women he’d wronged and a host of others who may have been out for revenge. But as Shell closes in on the killer, the killer is closing in on her. And she’s discovering that while too many cooks can spoil the broth, being a murderer’s next target can really ruin your appetite . . .
About Toni Lotempio
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While Toni Lotempio does not commit – or solve – murders in real life, she has no trouble doing it on paper. Her lifelong love of mysteries began early on when she was introduced to her first Nancy Drew mystery at age 10 – The Secret in the Old Attic. She and her cat pen the Nick and Nora mystery series originally from Berkley Prime Crime and now with Beyond the Page Publishing. They also write the Urban Tails Pet Shop Mysteries and the Tiffany Austin Food Blogger Mysteries, also available from Beyond the Page. A new series, Cozy Bookshop Mysteries, debuts from Severn House in July. Catch up with them at ROCCO’s blog, www.catsbooksmorecats.blogspot.com, or her website, www.tclotempio.net
On an alternate earth, a cataclysm has altered a subset of
the population. Talents are persecuted for their psychic and physical
mutations, giving rise to two conflicting societies based upon maintaining
genetic purity. And the Source, a shadowy corporate entity dependent upon the
exploitation of captive Talents, is hunting them…
Chaos rules the city of Glynfyls.
And all Flynn Scot can do is watch. With the hill frozen in
the shadow of the coming Incursion, and the commons giving into a bacchanal
madness, the city’s chances of survival are dire. His hands tied by mandates,
in order to do what he knows is right and give them a fighting chance, Flynn
will have to risk everything by doing wrong.
Meanwhile, Kara can’t hide her declining health.
The Triam’s location remains elusive, and the window to get
the treatment she needs is closing. Unwilling to give in, or idly await her
fate, she hatches a daring plan to help save the city, even if it ends up
destroying her politically.
Because Titus’s army is marching closer to Glynfyls, and
they’re not alone.
With them comes a monster that threatens not only the city,
but the entire Breaker hierarchy. As the world watches on tenterhooks, Flynn
and Kara race against the clock to save their people, but there’s no guarantee
they can save themselves.
Flynn’s bedroom door slammed open and the lights flicked on.
“Get up.”
The hell? He blinked, lifting his aching head to glare at Rogan. Man looked even more beat to shit now that the bruising from their fight had set in. One side of his jaw was twice the size it should be, and he didn’t look any happier to be standing there than Flynn was to see him.
“Fuck off,” he growled, his arms tightening around Kara. She murmured in her sleep, a “V” pinching between her brows as she snuggled against his chest.
Rogan laughed. “Wish I could, kid, but Titus’s troops are crossing the border, the city’s burning down again, cattle are running riot through the streets—” He swiped up a pair of pants from the floor and chucked them at Flynn. “—and we’re on fire brigade.”
Goddamn it.
“Are you serious?” he hissed, catching them as he pushed up to sit.
Kara huffed and curled into a little ball, out cold despite the asshole’s bullshit. Flynn frowned, but wasn’t surprised. She hadn’t slept at all the night after succumbing, and he damned well knew the toll of unmaking the damage Otto had done to her bitch mother was more than Kara was letting on.
Rogan’s gaze dropped to her bared shoulder and slid down her back to the blankets pooling around her hips. His tongue flicked over his lip. “Think I’d be in here otherwise?”
Flynn growled, ripping a blanket up to cover her. If that motherfucker even thought about—goddamn it. Man had just handed Flynn his own ass in front of the entire Breaker line. If Rogan, the Alpha fucking Prime, wanted to challenge for her, he’d win, and they both knew it.
So did the thing growling in the recesses of Flynn’s psyche, its hackles raised. Wasn’t conducive to him being in a particularly cooperative mood.
He slung his legs over the side of the mattress, talent crackling around his fingers. Goddamn it. That didn’t help either. He snuffed the sparks in his fists and pulled on his pants. Fabric was still sticky with gore. What time was it? His eyes found the clock as he zipped up. A little after two in the morning. Didn’t this fucking city sleep? “When did Titus cross the border?”
“Vanguard’s a couple hundred miles in and moving fast,” Rogan said as he reached down to scritch behind Hiss’s ears. Stupid cat let him. “Stonefist called Quorum. I was on my way to wake your ass up for that when the fire broke out. Shit’s officially hit the fan.”
“Fine. Let’s go.” Flynn grabbed a shirt and kicked into his boots, still glowering at Rogan. Asshole shot another look at Kara before he flashed that goddamned grin and backed from the room. Flynn killed the lights and just stopped himself from slamming the door shut. God, he hated that prick.
“What the hell are they rioting about now?” he asked, smacking the button for the lift.
Rogan shrugged and stepped in. “They’re throwing one hell of a party on the lower rungs, but this ain’t that, far as I can tell. Heard somebody say a cow kicked over a lantern, and it’s Chicago all over again.”
“Chicago?” Flynn asked, hitting the button for the main floor.
The Breaker rolled his eyes. “You know, big fire, O’Leary’s—never mind. All you need to worry about is it putting it out.” He pushed past him as the lift door opened and stalked toward the gate.
Flynn’s temper spiked and his talent sparked with it. “Me? How am I supposed to—” He stopped to scuff out a patch of smoldering carpet. Christ, that was getting old.
“Right there all the time, isn’t it?”
Flynn scowled. “Yeah. Weren’t you gonna do something about that?” Talent flared around his fingers again, and he swore.
Rogan sighed, glancing at the gate. “Right. How do you control your Shade ability?”
Was he an idiot? “Control my—I don’t. It’s not like—I gotta pull it to use it. They call it cloaking for a reason. It’s like gathering—whatever, it doesn’t matter. I asked about this Breaker shit.”
“Everything matters. Nothing’s important.”
“Did you just quote Nietzsche?”
Breaker cocked an eyebrow. “Did you just call me out for quoting Nietzsche?”
“Christ, you’re a dick.”
“You should talk. Look, in case you haven’t figured it out, Breaker talent isn’t static. It’s tied to your emotions, just like bloodlust. The fact that you’re as moody as a teenaged girl doesn’t help.”
Flynn glared at the man, his teeth gritting together at another flare of talent. “Then what do you suggest?”
“You know anything about physics?” Flynn’s eyes narrowed, and Rogan sighed. “Look, I’m not any more thrilled about this arrangement than you are, so let’s do it and have done. Easiest way for me to explain it is to equate Breaker talent to Ohm’s law—”
“Ionic flow. Got it. Energy is dissipated as heat. Then what?”
Rogan’s brow raised. “Then you reach equilibrium by dissipating it, maintaining the state by breathing the potential out, and letting talent cycle through you,” the Breaker said. “You don’t let it build until you need it.”
“How the hell do I do that?”
Rogan made a come hither motion. “Watch and learn.”
They stepped through the gate and into hell. Flynn wiped his brow, his skin abruptly too tight. Smoke seared down his throat and hung thick in the air, stinging his eyes and occluding the morass of standing water and hard baked sludge coating the street. The haze softened the edges of the blaze as a line of Fixers fought to keep it in stasis, while every Fetch able to shift an oxygen molecule battled to snuff the flames. Their crimson blue flicker and the silver and bronze glow of talent warred, filling the streets with an unearthly glow. Within the thin shell of talent, booms shook the ground. A rain of smoldering debris peppered the street, and a fucking cow ran by.
Rogan held out a hand to him, and Flynn scowled. “Thanks, Gramps, but I promise I’m big enough not to get lost.”
“Asshole. I want you to feel how I channel the fire’s potential.”
“I gotta hold your hand to do it?”
“I can put my foot up your ass if you’d prefer.”
Flynn eyed the man’s outstretched hand. Something big exploded, accompanied by a whomp of flame
“Take your time. Not like there’s any reason to hurry.”
Flynn glared at him and slapped his palm across Rogan’s. The Breaker’s halos flared and talent welled, crackling between them. Instead of something blowing up, it was a steady draw. The raging flames shuddered in response, dying back, and the ground beneath them hummed with a weird vibration. What the hell?
“Feel that?”
“Yeah, what’re you doing?”
Whatever it was, wasn’t easy. Sweat poured from the Breaker, and it wasn’t from the ungodly temperature. His halos bathed everything within a fifty-foot radius a gruesome scarlet. “Acting as a ground,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Like it’s electricity?”
“Yeah. Same principle, and you keep shorting.” He snorted at Flynn’s scowl. “Instead of letting the energy flow to heat, I’m converting the fire’s potential and acting as a conduit, redirecting it out and away. Try reaching for it. If you can call it, you can snuff it, and I could use the help. There’s some kind of accelerant in there—” The ground shook with another series of explosions and hot concrete rained down around them.
Fuck that. Flynn threw up a shield. He pushed it out and away, reinforcing the Fixer’s line. They slumped against one another as he took up the burden, the power of the battering flames sending him back a step. Christ. Yeah, there sure as hell was some kind of accelerant in there. Shit was burning like it was jet fuel. He wiped a hand across his brow, dizzy with the heat.
“Wrong talent, asshole,” Rogan gritted out.
Flynn scowled at him, trying to focus. Reach for the fire…how the fuck was he supposed to…he eased his shield and the sense of it hit him square in the chest. Flynn grunted, stumbling back again.
“Yeah, no shit. Now let it flow through you and ground it out.”
Flynn took a shaky breath; the intensity of that potential Rogan had been talking about was crushing. How the fuck was he handling all that? Man should be a blackened smear—
“Anytime now, kid.” Rogan grimaced.
Shit. Flynn’s jaw tensed, trying to take a hold—he eased his shield again and the flames surged forward. He slammed it back up and the fire’s potential bypassed him, arcing from his grip. Christ, he couldn’t—
“Kara still make that little noise when she comes?”
Flynn’s shield disintegrated as the blaze’s potential flooded into him with his rage. It built, his hair standing on end. He was gonna kill—
“Ground it!”
—that motherfucker. Flynn bellowed, channeling the fire’s potential into the ground along with what Rogan was converting. The street buckled and the surrounding buildings listed. The two men fell to their knees, the inferno sucking down like someone had pulled its string, guttering.
Rogan collapsed to sit, swiping a hand over his brow. “Not bad—”
Flynn’s fist took him in the jaw, knocking him back. “Anything about that ever comes out of your mouth again, I’ll fucking kill you.”
“No promises.” Asshole chuckled, wiping the corner of his mouth as he sat up. “And don’t expect it to go any better than your last attempt…but you’re welcome to keep trying.”
God, he hated him. Flynn’s brows furrowed, taking in the smoking ruins. At the far end of the block, Markham spoke to a group of Fetches. He patted one of them on the shoulder, and they staggered off, too exhausted to shift away.
Flynn knew how they felt. His insides were hollow with what’d just gone through him. His glower deepened as his eyes flicked to Rogan. Shithead had baited him, again, and he’d played right into his hands, again. Goddamn his fucking temper. That thing inside him…it was too fucking close. Flynn frowned, staring at his palms, the memory of blood staining them. No. Not here. He was safe in the city.
“When you call it, where does the fire come from?” he asked, wiping this hands on his pants and trying to distract himself. “Doesn’t the potential need a catalyst?”
“Look at you all brainy when you’re not taking potshots,” Rogan muttered, rocking his mangled jaw. “That’s a little more complicated, and I’m spent. It’ll wait.”
Flynn’s brows bunched, glaring at the man who’d claimed to be his great-grandfather. Attitude was on point, but any physical resemblance…to him, to Lot. Complexion was all wrong, but maybe something around the eyes…
The man flashed his teeth. “Yes?”
Christ, that was it. That goddamned grin. Flynn looked away. Markham was headed in their direction, albeit at a snail’s pace. “You the one that figured out how it works? The whole electricity thing?”
“A Breaker’s talent? No. Not controlling it, at least. I was pretty hell-bent on everything but. When I was ready to listen, most of the hard work had been done.”
Flynn flicked a bit of rubble away. Asphalt had caved in around them like a giant fist’d smashed into the street. “Did you want it?”
Rogan’s face went stoney. “When the Surge blasted us back to the Dark Ages, people lost their shit, turned on each other. Nobody understood it. Thought the world was coming to an end, God was punishing us…first to espouse the Sons’ ideology were Talents. Turned into a goddamned cult of suicide bombers. You could hear them imploding. See them flare up at night, taking out everything around them until the Corporation showed up with their promise of a cure. So, no. None of us wanted it, but it’s what we got. Didn’t that asshole teach you anything?”
Flynn chewed his lip. “Cal wasn’t around all that much.” Not even when he was.
“What about Lot?”
A surge of temper sent talent flickering around Flynn’s fingers. “What about him?”
“Never mind.” Rogan swore under his breath. “You’re clamping down and getting all pent up again. Breathe it through you.”
Flynn let out a slow exhale. Damn, he wanted a cigar. Thinking about his father, his Shade talent coming in… Jesus, that’d been a miserable fucking experience, but at least the only person that’d gotten hurt had been him. Accident or not, he’d killed people when Kara had been abducted. Guilt tamped down his anger, self-loathing rising up to snuff what was left of it. He needed to get a handle on this before he lost his shit again and took out any more of the city. Another incident like that, and the Pinch would be prime real estate.
Rogan’s mouth screwed up like he wanted to ask something and knew he wasn’t gonna like the answer. Goddamn it.
“Look, the less Lot and I see of each other, the better,” Flynn said, beating him to it. “Ascending to head was supposed to be the end of it. Come up here, assume the fucking position, and spend the rest of my life voting on granite curbing.” Shit, that almost sounded good. He kicked away some debris, the warmth of the ruined pavement cozy in comparison to the arctic air battering down the radiant heat.
“Funny. You don’t strike me as a white picket fence, two kids and a dog kind of guy.”
A gust of wind sent a squall thick with ash at them. Flynn put a hand up, keeping it from his eyes and spat the grit from his mouth. He’d take the fence and kids in a heartbeat right about now. The dog could go fuck itself, but the rest of it sounded like a dream come true. “Kara would’ve been happy. Safe.”
Rogan cocked an eyebrow. “Would she?”
A defeated numbness stole over Flynn. Probably not on either count. She wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met. Didn’t want the same things. Christ, what did she want? It pissed him off that figuring it out was taking a backseat to everything else, and there wasn’t a fucking thing he could do to change that.
He grimaced as he met Rogan’s eye. “Probably not. I just—It feels like I’m being steamrolled towards something, and no matter what I—” Flynn flushed. What the hell had possessed him to drop that nugget? He mussed ash from his hair, the reality of his goddamned existence weighing him down. The remaining flickers of talent around his fingers drained away. Damn. This shit really was tied to his emotions.
“That’s it. Low and slow. Breathe it out. You get worked up, ground what pulses through you.” Rogan leaned back on his elbows. “The universe usually pushes you for a reason. Why fight it?”
“Because I don’t trust it.”
“No, you don’t trust yourself.” Flynn scowled, and the asshole’s grin was back. “You should. That was good work just now, but it would’ve been better if you’d get over that goddamned reluctance and stop second-guessing yourself. You’re Breaker, kid. Acting on instinct is what we do. Leave the overthinking to the Binders.”
Markham huffed over, and Rogan stood. Flynn rose with him. The only thing his instincts were screaming at him to do was to bury the prick.
Except he’d tried that and failed miserably. Motherfucker. “So, what’s next?”
“Combat nap. Phyllis’s already filed the paperwork to officially step down. Between assuming First, and everything else making up this shit show, I’m pretty sure I’m gonna have to drink breakfast if I wanna get through the rest of the day.” Rogan frowned, scratching his stubble. “Should probably shave.”
Flynn rolled his eyes. “No, I meant talent-wise.”
“Try to not blow anything up until the Source gets here. If there’s an after…” Rogan shrugged. “We’ll work on your control. Start with little shit. Light some candles, break frozen peas.” A smile ghosted over his lips, then he pushed past Flynn with a growl. “Get a handle on your equilibrium first.”
Man stalked to the gate and was gone. What the hell had that been about?
.
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.
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**FREEBIE ALERT!**
.
Get a free bonus novella, Conspirator at the back of the book!
AK Nevermore enjoys operating heavy machinery, freebases
coffee, and gives up sarcasm for Lent every year. A Jane-of-all-trades, she’s a
certified chef, restores antiques, and dabbles in beekeeping when she’s not
reading voraciously or running down the dream in her beat-up camo Chucks.
Unable to ignore the voices in her head, and unwilling to
become medicated, she writes Science Fiction and Fantasy full time.
She pays the bills editing, wielding a wicked hot pink pen
and writing a column on SFF. She also belongs to the Authors Guild, is a
chapter treasurer for the RWA, teaches creative writing, and on the rare
occasion, sleeps.
Headstrong siblings, fated mates, a grandmother’s love, and enemies thirsting for revenge.
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Saved by the Wolf
The McCullough Pack Book 1
by Nola Li Barr
Genre: Sweet Paranormal Romance
A Sweet Paranormal Romance Complete Series
Fate brought us together, but the scars of our pasts threaten to tear us
apart.
Jill
The moment I hear his voice, something inside me shifts. He seems to reach
right into my soul, and suddenly, all I want is to be near him, to feel safe in
his arms. But I’ve been down this road before. My last relationship left me
broken, bruised, and wary. And the way his friends hang on his every word? It’s
too familiar—too much like my past.
Still, there’s an undeniable connection between us. My heart whispers that he’s
different, that he’s the one I’ve been waiting for. But how can I trust it when
my head is screaming to run?
Luc
She’s shy, quiet . . . human. Not someone my wolf should be drawn to, but he
is. When I’m near her, my wolf is calm, content, and all he wants is to claim
her as mine. But I’ve sworn off love. I know too well the pain of a broken
heart, and I promised myself I wouldn’t go through that again.
Yet, no matter how much I try to push her away, my wolf won’t let me. She’s the
one, and every fiber of my being knows it.
Saved by the Wolf is the first book in the McCullough Pack series—a
heart-tugging, sweet paranormal romance with all the love, none of the spice,
and a guaranteed happily ever after.
I took a deep breath and walked to the bar, content on hearing her heartbeat and knowing she was okay. I’d catch the next dance; no need to burst her bubble just yet.
By the time I came back, though, she was already dancing with another man, and she was absolutely glowing and having the time of her life. Then the first guy came back again, and she readily let him pull her against him and dance to the next song too.
My heart couldn’t take this. I was a fool to have come here. She was perfectly fine without me. Why in the world did I let my brothers get to me? They knew nothing about love or how much it hurt to be left behind, to be discarded like you had never meant anything to that person. I’d vowed I wouldn’t let a girl do that to me ever again. Yet here I was . . . .
I turned and left. She’d be just fine. No side-stop at an ice cream parlor tonight. No chance of looking into dark warm eyes and luscious lips that had the cutest pout when she was thinking. My wolf was clawing to get out, and I would let it. There was no need for me to be here anymore—no reason for me to have ever come!
I ran toward the woods and shifted, howling a lone tune as soon as I was deep into the trees.
.
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Loved by the Wolf
The McCullough Pack Book 2
*Originally
published under Nola Li Gordon. The whole series is now under Nola Li Barr.
He loves me . . . He loves me not . . .
Becca
I’ve loved
him for years and thought the feeling was mutual. But when I lean in to kiss
him on our first date, he recoils, claiming he only loves me like a sister.
He breaks my
heart that night.
Every bone in
my body is telling me to leave—to start a new life in a new place. A place
without him in it.
But I must be
a masochist because no matter what I tell myself, I cannot stay away from him .
. .
Brandon
She is my
mate. My wolf knows it.
Ever since
she kissed me, my wolf has been clawing at me to claim her. It is becoming
harder and harder to control myself.
Because I
can’t claim her.
My past
haunts me with reminders of my failures. She’s better off without me. The best
I can do is be her protector—if I can even do that . . . .
Set
against a backdrop of a tight-knit family, this friends-to-lovers story is
filled with all the love without the spice, and a guaranteed happily ever
after.
*Originally published under Nola Li Gordon. The whole series is now under
Nola Li Barr.
All is fair in love and war.
Millie
I’m the responsible sister. The one my family relies on. It’s the reason I’m
standing in for my sister, instead of going on my well-deserved vacation.
My day brightens when he walks in. I try to act professional, but he stands
close, and his eyes never leave me.
When he leaves, I tell myself he’ll soon forget about me. But on a visit to my
friend, he’s there to greet me. This time, I’m the one who can’t look away.
I’m only enjoying his company. Nothing can go wrong.
Jacob
I’m the planner of my family, and with war coming to my pack, I must prepare
for it. But my wolf is restless, wanting what my elder brothers have—a mate.
When I see her, my wolf screams she’s the one, and I feel the urge to claim
her. I push him down and manage to leave, but thoughts of her continue to
bombard me every day.
A day later, my brother pays her a visit, and on his return, he starts acting .
. . odd. Once my partner in crime, now he’s looking at me as his enemy.
Suddenly, everything goes wrong.
Enter a world where the strength of a family lies not only with its pack but
also with their soulmates. A world filled with all the love without the spice,
and a guaranteed happily ever after.
Nola Li Barr writes sweet family saga romances. Both in
contemporary and paranormal/fairy tale settings. She loves to explore family
dynamics with her characters and see them fall in love, most of the time with
someone they’d never deem possible. In the hopes of sharing her stories with
her kids sooner than later, her romances are always sweet with a happily ever
after. When she’s not writing she can be found reading, baking, and navigating
the path of motherhood. Follow her on social media @nolalibarr or visit nolalibarr.com.
