It is 1905. Edwardian England. Harriet Loxley, the daughter of a vicar and niece to a prominent Nottingham lace manufacturer, spends her days playing cricket with her brother, scouring the countryside for botanical specimens, and never missing an opportunity to argue the case for political power for women. Given the chance to visit the House of Commons, Harriet witnesses the failure of a historic bill for women’s voting rights. She also meets the formidable Pankhurst women.
When Harriet gets the chance to study biology at Bedford College, London, she finds her opportunity to be at the heart of the fight. From marching in the street, to speaking to hostile crowds, to hurling stones through windows, just how far will Harriet go?
Rosemary Hayward is the author of Margaret Leaving, a historical mystery uncovering little known events that occurred in the immediate aftermath to World War II. She is also the creator of Your Next Book, a deeply nerdy monthly newsletter describing a book picked from her bookshelf, or Kindle.
She is British by birth but now lives part of the year in California and part in southern Spain.
A perfect sunny getaway with no drama. Or so they’d hoped…
BREAKING NEWS Woman Taken in for Questioning in Death of Actress’ Husband
Police in Portugal this morning told reporters that a woman is being questioned in connection with the murder of the film producer Jason ‘JT’ Kenda, who was married to award-winning actress Ariella St Gerome.
Mr Kenda, who was found dead in the swimming pool of the couple’s villa, was initially thought to have died following an accident, but now police believe the American was killed intentionally. The villa is next door to where Lady Beatrice, the Countess of Rossex, is currently holidaying with family and friends at the villa of TV’s Sir Hewitt and his wife, Lady Grace.
Who can say no to Lady Grace? When the daughter of Lady Grace’s housekeeper is suspected of murder, her ladyship requests that Bea and her friends prove the maid’s innocence. But with time running out, can they navigate the tangled web of lies, betrayal, and hidden motives before an innocent woman is imprisoned for a crime she didn’t commit?
Intro
Lady Beatrice, her cute dog Daisy, her son Sam, and best his friend, Archie, are joined by DS Richard Fitzwilliam, Bea’s best friends Perry and Simon, and Simon’s daughter Isla, for a relaxing holiday in the sun, and they can’t wait. They’ve all had a crazy year so far, and all they want to do is sit by the pool and chill. No mysteries. No murder. Just sunny weather, good food, and great company. Their villa, Villa Mer, is in a complex of three, but Bea hopes that they can keep their interaction with their neighbours to a minimum, especially when she finds out that one of them is famous American actress, Ella St Gerome, and her husband, hot-shot Hollywood film producer, JT Kenda. The couple have been splashed all over the newspapers recently with rumours that he wasn’t giving his wife the lead role in his next movie. Bea doesn’t want to be dragged into that drama. But it was never going to be that simple, was it?
Ella and JT are hosting a party at their villa. Bea and Rich have managed to get out of it, but Perry and Simon have gone because Perry is hoping to pick up some acting tips from the famous actress to help him prepare for his upcoming role as Algernon in the production of The Importance of Being Earnest back home. While the guests chat, JT goes off for his regular evening swim…
Because even on holiday, the sleuthing never stops!
Hello. I’m Helen Golden. I write British contemporary cozy whodunnits with a hint of humour. I live in small village in Lincolnshire in the UK with my husband, my step-daughter, her two cats, our two dogs, sometimes my step-son, and our tortoise.
I used to work in senior management, but after my recent job came to a natural end I had the opportunity to follow my dreams and start writing. It's very early in my life as an author, but so far I'm loving it.
It’s crazy busy at our house, so when I’m writing I retreat to our caravan (an impulsive lockdown purchase) which is mostly parked on our drive. When I really need total peace and quiet, I take it to a lovely site about 15 minutes away and hide there until my family runs out of food or clean clothes
He knew he’d probably had too much bourbon tonight. But he loved the warm and smoky feeling as it slipped down his throat. Am I drunk? No, it felt different somehow. Jason ‘JT’ Kenda swayed as he made his way along the edge of the pool, his vision shifting in and out of focus. The pool lights rippled in the water, shimmering like a mirage, but his head felt disconnected, like it wasn’t entirely his own. He blinked hard, but the haze only thickened.
Why do I feel like this? “I need to get to the pool house,” he muttered under his breath, the words slurring as they left his lips. This was his routine. The nightly swim—his way to sober up, clear his mind, and wash away the evening’s excess. His body, though sluggish, was determined to follow the plan. He stumbled. He stopped. Try again.One foot in front of the other, he told himself. The pool house wasn’t far.
A voice cut through the fog in his brain, startling him. “JT!”
He turned towards it unsteadily, his brow furrowing as he tried to make sense of the figure coming at him. It was too dark to clearly make out the person against the glowing water, but they looked… familiar. He shook his head slightly, the movement sending him off balance. He threw his arms out on either side in an attempt to steady himself. “Who is it?” His voice came out weaker than he’d expected, lost in the nightly hum of cicadas coming from the surrounding trees.
He blinked again, squinting, trying to focus, but the face before him seemed to blur and shift. The words—stern, pointed, were a meaningless jumble in JT’s ears. His head lolled slightly, and he shook it again, trying to clear the feeling that it was stuffed full of cottonwool. But the movement only made the spinning worse.
The shape got closer. “Forget your swim, JT. Go to bed. You’re drunk.” There was frustration in their tone, but he barely registered it. His limbs felt too heavy. His thoughts slipped away before they fully formed. The warmth of the bourbon had turned into a strange, sluggish heat coursing through his veins.
Something is wrong.
He felt it deep in his chest. He wanted to ask for help. But the words wouldn’t form in his muffled brain.
The person muttered something that made no sense to him before they faded into the darkness.
What’s happening to me?
JT exhaled slowly. “The pool house,” he whispered again. His mind latched onto the idea like it was the only thing tethering him to reality. The pool house. Get changed. Swim. Routine. It would make everything better. It always did.
He stumbled forward, his legs buckling slightly. His body felt foreign, like it belonged to someone else, but he willed it on. The path curved ahead, but something shifted beside him—a heavy presence, cold against his skin. He turned, unsteady, his sluggish brain struggling to catch up as he noticed the statue beside him. It teetered dangerously on its plinth. For a moment, he thought he might have brushed it—or had it moved on its own? The thought flickered and faded as gravity took hold.
The statue still wobbled on its base. A slow, ominous sway.
“No…” The word came out as a whisper. His hands shot out instinctively, but his movements were too slow, too clumsy. The statue tilted, teetered, and then crashed forward with a deafening thud. Pain exploded in his forehead as it struck him.
The impact sent him reeling. His feet slipped on the tiles, and the world spun violently. A brief, dizzying moment of weightlessness overtook him before the cold shock of water enveloped his body. He gasped as it rushed into his lungs, burning his chest.
Then there was an eerie calm. Dreamlike, he felt himself sink, his limbs heavy as if encased in lead. It was a comforting feeling, like the one he normally got the second before he fell asleep.
Darkness crept in from the edges of his vision as the shimmering pool lights blurred above him.
Pregnant with their second child, Fallon Addington is mourning the loss of her husband, Kevin, while trying to maintain the ranch he loved. When Kevin’s best friend, Beckett Ivan, shows up on her doorstep, insisting on giving her a hand, Fallon is determined to avoid him at all costs—that is until she sees past what’s on the surface and realizes that Beckett needs her more than he’s let on. They say time heals all wounds but when Beckett’s time stateside is up, will Fallon be in for another broken heart? Readers who enjoy Yellowstone and Heartland will fall in love with Ranger by Aubree Valentine, a small-town, second-chance romance.
A war-torn soldier and heartbroken widow.
Beckett Ivan has seen things that most people cannot even begin to imagine.
He’s lost friends that were more like family, and he’s witnessed unspeakable things happen to innocent people.
With a broken spirit, he’s headed back to Indiana, where his best friend’s widow is alone.
He promised Kevin that if he made it back home, he’d see to it that she was taken care of, and that’s what he intends to do.
What he hadn’t planned on was falling in love…
Fallon Addington was mourning the greatest loss of her lifetime. While trying to help maintain the ranch her late husband loved so much.
Pregnant with their second child, she’s barely got the energy to keep it together most days—that is until Kevin's best friend, Beckett, shows up on her doorstep, insisting on giving her a hand.
A daily reminder of all Kevin was, Fallon is determined to avoid the soldier who’s taken up residence in the barn loft.
All too soon though, she begins to see past what’s on the surface and realizes that Beckett needs her more than he’s let on.
With a little help from her favorite horse, Ranger, the two are forced to work through their grief together.
They say time heals all wounds but what happens when Beckett’s time stateside is up? Is Fallon in for another heartache or does fate have different plans for the man who’s taught her how to love again?
Readers who like Yellowstone and Heartland will enjoy this second chance at love story featuring a headstrong widow and the soldier who captures her heart in an unexpected way. Their story is one filled with it's fair share of heartbreak and triumphant beauty.
Beckett’s tires squealed as he pulled up in front of the hospital entrance. His best friend’s wife was in labor.
And Kevin wasn’t here to see it.
That all too familiar grief hit him again.
Fuck.
It didn’t help that he’d been stumbling around awkwardly ever since their encounter that knocked him so far off kilter that he couldn’t remember which way was up.
He jumped out of his truck and tossed the keys to the hospital Valet.
“Sir!” the valet called after him.
“My..she’s…in labor!” Beckett yelled back, not slowing down.
“You’ll need this,” the Valet caught up to him and handed him a key tag that he’d need to claim his truck later.
“Thanks,” he grumbled back.
The older lady at the security desk took longer than he would have liked to take his license and give him a pass that would allow him onto the Labor and Delivery floor.
He skipped the elevators and took the stairs instead, ignoring the pain in his knee with every step he climbed.
Following the instructions from the lady in the lobby, he pressed the badge to the scanner near the door. As soon as they opened enough for him to slip through he did.
Kevin’s family greeted him with warm smiles and excited hugs.
“Where’s Garrison?” he asked, looking around the room.
“Still in school. Aiden’s going to pick him up and keep an eye on him until Fallon’s ready for visitors,” William, Kevin’s father, answered.
Beckett nodded, trying to catch his breath.
“Have a seat, son,” Neville, Kevin’s grandfather, said as he patted him on the back. “We’re going to be here a while.”
He sat and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees to catch his breath. “Did anyone call Fallon’s parents?”
Harriett shook her head. “She asked us not to.”
Beckett snorted. He didn’t blame her. Fallon’s mother was a handful on a good day. And a bitch if she was having a bad day. The woman had been a complete nightmare when she was in town for Kevin’s funeral. So much so that Fallon kicked her out after she decided to pick a fight about Garrison, calling the boy a spoiled brat.
He’d never hit a woman, or his elders. But he might make an exception for that one.
“Lindsey said you’ve been helping out Fallon while she’s on bedrest. Taking care of Garrison, making sure the kid gets to school and everything,” William said, nonchalantly.
“Yeah, I…I um…” Did they know about what happened two weeks ago, too? “I had some things I needed to take care of today. Lindsey was on the way over with lunch so Fallon said she would be fine when I left the house to go run errands. I wouldn’t have left her otherwise,” he explained, suddenly feeling the need to defend himself.
He probably could have tapped out all together after what happened but who else could be there for her?
All of the Addingtons had full-time jobs and a ranch to tend to.
Fallon’s parents were out of the question.
That left Beckett to suck it the fuck up and keep his promises…and stop thinking about the way Fallon came undone.
“Hey. You don’t need to defend yourself. Lindsey was with her. I was merely going to thank you for taking care of her,” William told Beckett. “It’s not easy for her to ask for help. Kevin used to tell us that all the time. We’re glad you’ve stuck around and she’s got someone in her corner.”
He sighed in relief. “Thanks, William. I appreciate that. I owe Kevin, and Fallon, a lot.”
“Pretty sure you wiped the slate on any debts you owed them a long time ago,” Neville chuckled.
Garrett stayed quiet but eyed him with a knowing glance.
“Listen, Beckett,” Neville cleared his throat. “There’s something that Fallon mentioned…”
Before he could finish his sentence, Lindsey walked into the waiting room.
Beckett was the first one to notice her and immediately jumped out of his seat. “How is she?”
Lindsay grinned. “Almost ready to push, but she’s asking for you.”
“Me?” Beckett looked around to gauge everyone’s reaction. No one protested or scowled.
William stood and clapped him on the back, “If she’s asking for you, then you better get going.”
Aubree Valentine is a masterful storyteller who weaves tales of passion, heartbreak, and happily-ever-afters that leave readers swooning and coming back for more.
A hopeless romantic at heart, Aubree channels her boundless imagination and appreciation for the complexities of romance into every book she writes. Her characters are as real as they are irresistible—flawed, relatable, and unforgettable—taking readers on journeys filled with sizzling chemistry, emotional twists, and moments that tug at the heartstrings.
Whether it’s a steamy small-town romance or a friends-to-lovers tale, Aubree’s stories always promise: love, laughter and happily ever after. When she’s not penning her next novel, Aubree can be found binge-reading romance novels, borrowing her husband’s power tools for some over the top project, or spending quality time with her family and their fur babies.
Connect with Aubree Valentine on social media, through her website, or sign up for her newsletter to stay up-to-date on new releases, exclusive content, and behind-the-scenes glimpses into her writing
She can’t turn her
back on her team, though. They’ve been through too much together. The more
Sadie tries to help, the more she suspects she might be the target of the con
this time. With forces conspiring against her, the outcome of her
decisions, both past and present, weigh heavily and make her question the
choices she made leading to this point.
When their mutual
enemy is found dead, alliances are tested, and wits are matched as the race to
the truth reveals who can be trusted and who is running their final con.
Sadie Sabatini thinks of herself
as a modern-day Robin Hood who uses her gift as a skilled con artist to help
those who have nowhere else to turn. Leading this life is rewarding, but the
number of enemies are piling up. Sadie decides to lay low and start over with a
new (and legitimate business) in the small town of Wilson, Texas, situated on a
small peninsula in beautiful Lake Amore.
Trouble is never far behind
though and her past catches up to her in a big way when a friend of a former
mark threatens blackmail for his silence. When he turns up dead and Sadie is
the prime suspect, she realizes this time she must protect herself. Her skills
prove helpful as she digs deeper into the web of revenge, blackmail, and
secrets to discover she’s not the only one with a past to hide.
As the threats mount, Sadie
knows she’s closing in on the truth. She now worries that the few new friends
she’s made in town are in danger because of her. With time running out, can she
protect those around her and find the real killer before this new chapter in
her life is conned out of a happy ending
Described by those who kno her
best as perky, quirky and effervescent, USA Today Best-Selling author Nicole
Leiren likes to have fun -- in life, with her characters and, of course, her
readers. She admits to being sassy (just ask her mother!) and inspiration for
her characters are drawn from the real-world heroes and heroines she meets
while traversing the country.
Nicole enjoys sharing the love,
laughter, mystery, and occasionally a touch of the mayhem she forces her
characters to endure—all for the reader’s pleasure! Her real-world heroes and
heroines will keep you turning the pages until you reach the whodunit or
happily ever after (usually both!)
Genres: Contemporary Romance, New Releases, Romance
Themes: Age Gap (Older Man), LGBTQ+ Gay, Multicultural & Interracial, Multiple Partners /Polyamory, New Adult
Book Length: Novella
Page Count: 55
Synopsis
Out-Houses.com. The hottest gay-owned interior design business in Northern California.
When Paul joins the owners of Out-Houses.com, Alex and Toby, at their secluded cabin, it’s supposed to be a chance for them to work away from the distractions of the office. Instead Paul finds himself more distracted than ever -- and wanting to join in the fun.
Andy is late for a very important date -- with Toby, one of the owners of Out-Houses. Toby doesn’t like to be kept waiting and decides to teach Andy a lesson by giving him a spanking. Not the traditional way to start an interview, but at Out-Houses, anything goes.
Alex and Toby are great fun, but Paul wants a man of his own. Not just any man -- he’s got his sights set on Andy. Which would be fine, except Andy’s not looking his way. Or is he?
“Fuck me.” There was a startled gasp, then, “Harder!”
“You want it bad, don’t you?”
The sounds of slapping flesh accompanied the masculine voices emanating from the other side of the bedroom wall. Paul groaned and rolled over. His hard-on stabbed the mattress and he groaned again, this time from pain. It was gonna be a long, exhausting week if he had to listen to his bosses, the owners of Out-Houses -- the newest, hottest gay interior designer company in Northern California -- get it on in the living room every night.
Especially given his recent, secret aspiration of becoming the meat in their cum sandwich.
“Oh, yeah. Just like that. Don’t stop.”
Must be Alex doing the begging, the little slut. Paul pictured him on his knees, his fine caramel colored ass in the air. Desperate for what satisfaction only his partner could give him.
Toby’s deep bass rumbled in response. “Heh. No worries there.”
“Oh, fuck. More. More!”
Placing a pillow over his head didn’t help stifle the erotic noises coming from the nearby room. If he had to hear it, then Paul wanted to see it. Feel it. Be fully engaged in the action. Eavesdropping was a poor substitute for sating carnal lust. Last night he’d been jet-lagged enough to fall asleep. A drag queen in full voice wouldn’t have woken him. However, after spending the day shoulder to shoulder with his gorgeous employers, hunched over a work table studying a ream of concept drawings for a gay-oriented housing project, pinned between their two rock solid bodies…
Damn. Rock solid. Just like his cock.
He was never going to get to sleep as long as he had to listen to them fuck.
Paul tossed off the sheet covering him and slipped out through the sliding glass doors onto the balcony overlooking the Pacific Ocean. He didn’t bother to dress. Dense shrubs on either side of the isolated beach house created a privacy screen from anyone walking along the cliffs. The only people he was likely to encounter were otherwise… engaged.
Two long flights of stairs descended from the deck to meet a short expanse of pristine white sand. Paul didn’t feel comfortable going near the water, in part because walking around in the dark in a strange, wild area had “potentially fatal” written all over it, but also because it took him farther away from where he really wanted to be. Inside. In the living room. On his knees. Sucking Alex’s cock while Toby pounded into him from behind.
Like that’s going to happen. Face it, Paulie, you may be ready, willing and able to bat for the home team, but that doesn’t mean you’ll get a chance to play in this ballpark.
Paul lifted his face to the ocean breeze, trying to clear his mind. He failed, miserably. No matter what lust-killing thoughts he injected into his brain, his libido returned him to the action inside. Toby’s large frame, black skin over corded muscle, wrapped around Alex’s lithe Latino body. Fucking like bunnies.
If it were just about the sex, he might have stood a chance at stemming this hormonal rampage, but Paul admired their internal qualities too. Both had high IQs and more ambition than a rookie Triple-A player after a spot on a major league bench. They were risk takers. Adrenaline junkies. And it was a good thing, because it would take as much guts as money to make their fledgling company, Out-Houses, a success.
But if anyone could do it, Toby and Alex were capable of pulling it off. Paul wasn’t sure how these two alpha males managed to work together so well, or how long their partnership, in and out of bed, could last. Meeting them through their website had been a fluke when Paul needed help with his bathroom plumbing. They’d needed an architect though, and he was ready for a change in jobs. However, the youth of their business and their relationship made signing on with them a gamble. If they broke up, chances were the company wouldn’t survive. Paul chose to take the risk with them. It was hard to walk away from a dream job.
And his dream of joining Alex and Toby during one of their lunchtime quickies.
Paul relaxed against the balcony rail. Moonlight spilled over his milk white skin, giving it a silvery sheen. He ran his hand down his chest, following the thin arrow of reddish-blond hair to his cock. In order to get any sleep at all, he’d have to appease his woodie sooner or later. Might as well be now.
But not quickly. Not something that would be over and forgotten in a minute like a quick jerk-off during a morning shower. Paul wanted to treat himself to something special. Something he’d remember for a long time to make up for the erotic ménage memories he’d have to live without.
Kira Stone lives in a warm cave tucked away in the remote Scottish Highlands, where a small band of ever-changing heroes serves as company. As they relax in front of a roaring fire, demons dance in leather pants and angels stroke tunes from the harp strings, while the Fae stop in to share tales from other worlds. Bound by pen and imagination, these are the folk who wait to greet you from the pages of Kira's stories.
The morning after a blowout birthday celebration in Atlantic City, crime reporter and party girl Tess Mancini wakes up in an unfamiliar place—1955. Bread is eighteen cents a loaf, Ike occupies the White House, and the Boardwalk is crawling with vintage cars and vintage wise guys. A bewildered Tess is sure of only two things: One, she’s not crazy, and two, the clothes are fabulous. Somehow, she’s living the life of her Great-Aunt Theresa, who disappeared decades before Tess’s birth.
In her 1950s existence, Tess is a reporter at the local newspaper, living at a boarding house owned by her Zia Antonetta, an Italian immigrant with a big secret. It turns out Theresa has a kid brother, teenaged troublemaker Val Mancini—aka Tess’s paternal grandfather. Though determined to return to her own time, Tess’s curiosity takes over. What happened to the first Theresa Mancini? And is Tess’s trip through time connected to her aunt’s fate?
But when young Val is accused of murdering a boarding house guest, a Nazi in hiding, Tess ends up with two investigations on her hands—and now stuck in time until she can prove Val’s innocence. As she searches for answers, she finds allies in a dishy police detective and a suspiciously charming fellow reporter. The clock is ticking for Tess to find a way home, but first, she has to keep her grandfather off Death Row.
Because before Tess can get back to the future … she needs to make sure she has one.
Praise for Murder on the Steel Pier:
"Murder on the Steel Pieris impossible to put down, offering an irresistible blend of mystery, history, and time travel. I felt like I was in 1950s Atlantic City along with heroine Tess. Unlike her, I didn’t want to leave! I absolutely loved this book and can’t wait for Tess’s next adventure." ~ Ellen Byron, Agatha Award-Winning Author
"Awesome book! This stylish, creatively written and highly entertaining mystery will keep you turning pages long past bedtime." ~ Terrie Farley Moran, award-winning author of the Murder, She Wrote series
Book Details:
Genre: Historical Mystery Published by: Two Roses Books Publication Date: March 31, 2025 Number of Pages: 340 ISBN: 979-8-9911241-1-9 Series: The Tess Mancini Time Travel Mysteries, Book 1 Book Links
Someone was smoking a cigarette. I sniffed, and spikes of pain started at my chin and shot through the top of my head. Oh God, make it stop, and I promise I’ll never touch another drop of tequila. Being another year older was bad enough—did I have to be punished for it, too? My nose twitched as the smoke teased my nostrils and caressed my olfactory nerves. I’d quit a month ago, but the longing for a cig came roaring back.
With my eyes still closed, and my head nailed to the pillow, I had one coherent thought: This is supposed to be a smoke-free hotel. As far as I knew, it was also bird-free, but the chirps and twitters assailing my ears were clearly coming from feathered creatures. Then again, it’s Atlantic City. Maybe the birds were part of the hotel show. Ever so slowly, I slid my hands from under the covers and cupped them over my ears.
“Please, birdies,” I whispered. “Stop singing.” Geez, they sounded close enough to be in my room. I exhaled, yoga style. C’mon, Tess, time to open your eyes. You can do it. Actually, I couldn’t, as my lashes were glued together. (Had I slept in my make-up? Not a good sign.) Still covering my ears against the piercing bird song, I fluttered my left eyelid and squinted.
Big, fuchsia-colored roses seemed to scream at me from the wall. And sun—blinding, eyeball-searing sun—streamed in through an uncovered window. And not a hotel window bolted shut and draped to keep out that awful light, but a wooden one with glass panes. And across the top, a ruffly white curtain.
Okay, not my hotel. So where was I? My empty stomach grew queasy; I wouldn’t have gone home with a stranger. Though I did remember a cute blond guy playing the slots next to me, but it was all so … blurry. I eased open the other eye. Across the room was a vanity table draped in more white ruffles. Somehow, I doubted the blond guy lived here.
This place was obviously some kind of historic inn or something, but that still didn’t explain how I’d gotten here. I looked down at the sheets, also decorated with roses. Only these were little yellow ones. Somebody sure liked her florals.
“So weird,” I muttered. Hands shaking, eyes half closed, I felt around for my phone, but my fingers landed on a string of beads. I let go of the necklace and blinked hard, trying to ignore the little flashes of pain behind my eyes. Next to me was an old-fashioned nightstand; on it was a lamp with a frilly pink shade, an analog alarm clock ticking loudly, and the “necklace,” which had a cross hanging from it. A face stared at me from a black-and-white photo. I shifted closer, peering at a guy with slicked-back hair, thick brows, and dark-lashed eyes. Across the bottom of the picture was a name, signed in blue ink. I frowned at the image. Who the heck was Tyrone Power? Was he someone’s boyfriend? Or part of the décor?
Hangover and rubber legs be damned, I had to get moving and find my phone. But before I could get a big toe out from under the covers, a knock sounded at the door. I sat up in the strange bed, holding my throbbing head as though it were a soft-boiled egg.
“Tess? Are you awake yet?” The voice on the other side of the door had a slight Irish brogue. “Can I come in, then?”
“Yes,” I croaked. Whoever she was, she knew my name. Despite the sunlight, the room was chilly, and I huddled under the cotton blankets as the woman bustled in holding a small tray. I sniffed coffee and toast, and when she set it down on the nightstand, my stomach gurgled audibly.
“Now,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron, “we served breakfast some time ago, and when you didn’t come down, I knew you’d be oversleepin’ again. Your auntie will have my hide and your own if you don’t get down to that kitchen.” She crossed her ample arms and sent me a stern look. “You know we don’t serve anyone in their rooms, guests or otherwise, but Carolina insisted I bring you your coffee. Said you’re no good without it.”
I looked up at a broad-shouldered woman in a green housedress. Over that was an apron in a loud, orange-and-green pattern of forks and spoons. Her thick white hair, twisted into a bun, was bright against her weathered skin. Her small dark eyes gave the impression of two raisins set in a gingerbread face. I’d never seen her before in my life.
“Sorry, Mrs. Flaherty.” How did I know that? It surely must have been her name because she didn’t correct me. I sat up quickly, my mouth hanging open in shock, and the blankets slipped to my waist.
Mrs. Flaherty took a step closer to the bed and narrowed her eyes at me. “Just what are you wearing, missy?” What was I wearing? I glanced down at the cursive “T” stitched on the pocket of my favorite monogrammed PJs. Expensive ones. And why did she care? I opened my mouth to answer, but Mrs. F got there ahead of me. “They’re silk,” she hissed. “And black, for the Lord’s sake.”
“Uh huh,” I said slowly, wondering if she commented on the nightwear of all her guests. Still, I pulled the blankets up to my chin.
“Best not let your auntie see them. Don’t know how in the world you afford such things,” she grumbled. “Eat up quick now, and bring down that tray when you’re through.”
“Okay,” I whispered, staring at the door she closed behind her…
***
Excerpt from Murder on the Steel Pier by Rosie Genova. Copyright 2025 by Rosie Genova. Reproduced with permission from Rosie Genova. All rights reserved.
Proud Jersey girl Rosie Genova is a multi-genre author. Her work includes a Jersey shore cozy series, The Italian Kitchen Mysteries, and The Tess Mancini Time Travel Mysteries, set in 1955 Atlantic City. She is also the author of standalone suspense and a couple of rom-coms that presently live in her computer files (but are longing to be released into the wild). A former teacher and journalist, Rosie’s non-fiction has appeared in a variety of publications, including Entrepreneurmagazine and The New York Times. The mother of three sons, Rosie still lives in her favorite state with her husband, too many dusty antiques, and a charming mutt named Lucy.
