Tag Archives: Mystery / Suspense

The Duke’s Runaway Omega Teaser

 

LGBTQ+ Historical Romance, MPreg, Mystery & Suspense

Date Published: August 14, 2026

 


Phillip’s on the run, with not just one but two alphas on his trail.

Raised as an alpha, Phillip’s unexpected manifestation as an omega turns
his life upside down. His father demands a handfasting, insisting Phillip be
mated to whichever alpha wins the day with their pheromones. But when the
triumphant alpha turns out to be his school friend Everett, Phillip realizes
they are fated mates. However, as a diminished omega, his chances of bearing
Ev’s children are slim. Heartbroken, Phillip flees to London.

Everett never expected to be Duke of Harriford. His title brings a slew of
distasteful marriage and handfasting offers. The latest invitation for his old
friend Phillip shocks Ev into accepting. Phillip is everything he remembers
and more, and Ev soon finds himself responding to the potent scent of
Phillip’s pheromones. When his mate runs, Ev questions whether their
feelings are true, or merely the bond of alpha and omega. Despite his fears,
he’s determined to find Phillip and bring him home.

As Ev searches London, Phillip questions the wisdom of his choices. His plans
have begun to unravel rather spectacularly. To start with, he’s
pregnant, the one thing he thought he’d never be. Worse, there’s
an alpha hunting him — and it’s not Ev.

 

EXCERPT

 

Yorkshire, 1811

Lord Phillip Tyerman stared through the barred windows of his tower room at
the parade of men and women summoned by his father. All of them were
well-heeled and every one of them was looking to make a prestigious match with
the earl’s eldest son. The earl’s omega son, who was unable to
inherit either lands or title. The earl’s useless son, who wasn’t
even a full-fledged omega. Just a not-quite-beta whose first presentation had
caused no scandal, lured no lusty alphas, and could have been passed off as
little more than being in his second puberty. Not even the beta servants of
the household had realized anything was amiss. Only his youngest sister had
noticed. It had been Philomena, who was now heir to their father’s
estate at fifteen, thanks to her unexpected and early manifestation as a
dominant alpha. Lovely Phil, whose patrician nose had wrinkled as though a bad
odor had just filled the air.

“What a dreadful stink! Have the oranges gone over?”

Phillip could hear it even now, a full year hence, and it still rankled to the
point where he’d taken to wearing a strong sandalwood fragrance to avoid
smelling like rotted fruit. His father’s shocked look had likewise never
left his mind. The forbidding expression on the earl’s face had been bad
enough, but Phillip’s subsequent banishment to the tower room from the
heir-presumptive suite had cut even deeper. He had been nearly twenty-two at
the time, grown tall and strong. He was the spitting image of his father.
Everyone, even his omega mother, had assumed he’d manifest soon as an
alpha, and his delicate sister as an omega.

The tall and strong young man had become the omega, and the petite, delicate,
and winsome girl had become the alpha. God most certainly had a peculiar sense
of humor, at least insofar as the Tyerman family was concerned.

With a snort of irritation at the memory, Phillip turned his attention back to
the courtyard below, where the last equipage had rolled up to the front steps.
The livery on the carriage door proclaimed the occupant to be a member of the
Harrifords. Intrigued despite himself, Phillip opened the windowpanes and
peered through the bars, hoping for a glimpse of whomever it was that had come
from that prestigious family to gawk at the sale of the Tyermans’
awkward omega son. Of course, even if the occupant proved to be Ev Harriford,
Phillip fully intended to be well away from this house long before
arrangements could be made to pursue a match with any of these honored guests.

He sighed and turned away from the window, leaving it ajar to bring in fresh
air to a room that was stuffy even in the dead of winter. He had no fear of
his scent drawing unwelcome attention from all those alphas despite being near
his heat. His pheromones were practically indiscernible, as even in heat they
never carried much beyond his immediate person. The doors to the tower stair
were securely locked, and only his mother and his beta valet carried the keys.
He felt no qualms about allowing the room to air out while he dressed for this
ridiculous charade.

Well, said charade would come to an abrupt and hopefully embarrassing end for
his father. Phillip had a small bag packed with the most minimal necessities
safely stowed in the bottom of the wardrobe. He’d return to his rooms to
“refresh himself” when the alphas retired for brandy and banter,
and he’d make his escape then, while his father negotiated with them for
Phillip’s eventual marriage to the highest bidder.

The tiniest tremor ran along his spine. It seemed his estrus had chosen to
come in a timely manner. At least he would not have to spend several days in
isolation waiting for it to arrive so the festivities could begin in earnest.
The mere thought of said festivities sent another shiver through him, this one
of disgust.

A brisk tap sounded on the door, followed by the sound of keys in the lock and
his mother’s quiet entrance. She gave him a mildly disapproving glance
upon seeing him still in his ordinary daywear. “You should always lock
the inner door, Phillip,” she chided him. “You ought to be in your
tails by now. You have a scant half hour before dinner. Your father wishes you
to meet the guests tonight prior to the formal ceremony on Saturday.”

“Ceremony!” Phillip winced as the word came out in shocked tones.
“What ceremony?! I thought this was the usual idiotic dinner party
series so he can twist the arms of his alpha friends and convince one of them
to marry me to their offspring –”

“No, dear,” his mother interrupted with false serenity. She smiled
at him, the attempt obviously meant to soothe, yet the smile did not reach her
eyes. “The earl has decided to make this a formal handfasting ceremony,
to ensure the chosen candidate does not hand you the mitten after. So only the
most acceptable and honorable suitors were invited. If you don’t find
anyone particularly to your liking, the earl will decide who wins the right to
bond with you.”


The earl will decide. His mother’s use of his father’s title told
Phillip that Lady Winifred Tyerman did not support this extraordinary
decision. It also told Phillip that his father had chosen not to leave the
critical matter of his awkward son to chance or romantic feelings. His
thrice-damned sire would pick the person who would control Phillip for the
rest of his life. Then the true significance of his mother’s words
penetrated the fog engendered by the word “ceremony.”

“A handfasting? What on earth are you on about?” Phillip cursed
himself for the shake in his voice.

Handfasting was an ancient custom, very much out of use, as it used a bonding
bite to ensure the omega couldn’t flee with another alpha or beta. But
to do so in this day? The handfasting ceremony included a public bite, binding
the omega to the alpha forever, socially and physically, even if the alpha
chose to marry someone else. While the ceremony wasn’t precisely
outlawed, it was frowned upon as outré and generally reserved only for
omegas of wealthy families perilously close to the end of their breeding
years.

And this was to be his fate? He’d be damned first.

 

 

About the Author

Autumn grew up loving history, mythology, and all things Japanese, not
necessarily in that order. This eclectic love affair has bled over into her
writing, and her stories are always well spiced with the taste of Japan,
strange mythological beasties, or the lords and ladies of the ton. Sometimes
all three, leading to dark desires and forbidden loves.

And after all, dangerous passions should lead to uninhibited love.

Author’s Website

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Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress

 

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Illusionist Blitz

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A Sean McPherson Novel, Book 5

 

Mystery & Suspense

 

Date Published: 04-15-2025

Publisher: SparkPress

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For fans of Louise Penny and Robert Dugoni, Illusionist is a
contemporary crime thriller where PI McPherson must choose between killing an
author at a writing retreat in the Pacific Northwest or letting a college
student die.

When an illusionist joins the Pines & Quill writing retreat, one of the
owners vanishes without a trace in the middle of everyone, but the surrounding
would-be witnesses don’t see or hear a thing. That’s when crime
boss Georgio Gambino makes a checkmate move against his nemesis, Sean
McPherson. He forces a writer in residence to kill another writer and frame
McPherson. In a video call, Gambino warns the writer, “If you
don’t follow orders, your daughter will die.” Then, he pans the
camera to prove access to her college dorm room.

McPherson discovers that Carmine Fiore, Gambino’s second in command,
covets his boss role and is staging a coup. As Gambino’s soldiers
traffic drugs, weapons, and humans, Fiore plants incriminating evidence
against the notorious Sureños gang. Can McPherson leverage that
knowledge for a temporary truce and the gang’s help?

The writers in residence—a former NASCAR driver, a professional
triathlete, an architect turned house flipper, and a world-renowned magician
who may not be who she appears to be—band together with McPherson to
create the illusion of a lifetime.

 
Excerpt

 

Gambino picks up his cell phone and makes another call. His heart races with
anticipation. When the recipient answers, he says, “If you hang up,
I’ll kill your child. Do you understand?”

“Is this some kind of sick joke?”

“I assure you this is no joke. When I disconnect, you’ll receive a video
call from my associate. He’s visiting your child’s class—Market
Power in the New Economy. If you don’t do what I say, it will cost the
life of the person you love most.”

“Who is this? What do you want from me?”

“I’m the person who’s going to kill your child if you don’t
do what I say. In two days, you’re heading to Pines & Quill writing
retreat. While there, you will frame Sean McPherson for murder.”

“Frame someone for murder? What do you mean?”

“No, not just someone. You’re going to frame Sean McPherson.
You’re going to kill one of the other writers in residence. I
don’t care which one, nor do I care how you do it. You’re a crime
writer. Figure it out. You arrive at Pines & Quill on October first and
leave on the twenty-first. You have three weeks to accomplish the task.”

 

 

About the Author

Laurie Buchanan
A blend of Dr. Doolittle, Nanny McPhee, and a type-A Buddhist, Laurie
Buchanan is an active listener, observer of details, payer of attention,
reader and writer of books, kindness enthusiast, red licorice aficionado, and
lover of the Oxford comma.

As a novelist, photographer, and voracious reader, she never travels without
three essentials—a laptop, a camera, and a book.

Growing up, she dreamed of being a magician, an international spy, and a mad
scientist. There’s still time!

Her writing studio is the hayloft of a historic carriage house in the Pacific
Northwest, where creativity thrives. Her husband, Len, a private pilot, and
Henry, their not-so-standard Standard Poodle, join her on daily walks. She
always carries a camera because sometimes, the best word choice is a picture.

A journey that left an indelible imprint on her was a 20-day, 211-mile trek
across the majestic landscapes of Scotland. She, her husband, and their son
hiked from the North Sea to the Atlantic Ocean, with the pinnacle being the
climb of Ben Nevis at the midpoint of their adventure, the highest point in
the British Isles.

“My writing goal is simple: to leave you wanting more.” —Laurie Buchanan

 

Contact Links

 

Website

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Purchase Link

 

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Master of the Hunt Teaser

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Dark Fantasy Romance, Mystery & Suspense

Date Published: July 10, 2026

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A werewolf prince and a lovely fairy police chief battle mad gods for
the fate of a kingdom.

 

 

Sidhe Prince Dearg Galatyn is a werewolf, spymaster, and Blade of the Dragon
God. When his deity sends him visions of a beautiful cop’s horrific
murder, Dearg must save her at all costs. Otherwise, she won’t be the
only one to die — and his kingdom could be lost.

Iona Anann is the granddaughter of Maeve, the Mother of Fairies. Her day job
is police chief of Summerwood, a quirky town full of magical creatures who
make fantasy films. When the dragon god’s feared werewolf weapon shares
his horrific visions, she is forced to accept Dearg as her bodyguard.

Then murder comes to Summerwood as the assassin begins picking off victims —
with Iona and her prince as his ultimate targets.

Locked in a pressure cooker of blood, magic and madness, Iona and Dearg begin
to fall in love. But stalked by killers and psychotic gods, will they even
live out the week?


Warning: Adult situations, graphic violence and language. No cheating,
guaranteed HEA.

 

Master of the Hunt tablet

 

EXCERPT

 

My second cousin was plotting treason again.

I strode toward the private library in my parents’ wing, my boots
clicking over the jeweled tiles. I needed to brief Dad on Goran
Galatyn’s plot. We had to quell the bastard’s little rebellion
before he dragged us all into another civil war.

My hand slid to the messenger pouch that held the evidence of Goran’s
guilt. For the past month, I’d had my spies working to discover the
extent of the treason — the allies Goran had assembled, the knights,
mercenaries, and armsmen he’d recruited or hired. My agents were
well-placed and reliable — a high-ranking knight, a noblewoman, one of my
cousin’s so-called friends, and Goran’s mistress, all of whom had
reason to hate the bastard. The evidence they’d collected was solid,
corroborating each other even though none of them knew about the others.
I’d compiled the reports and documents they’d produced into a
coherent picture that revealed just how close Goran was to launching an
attack.

Fortunately, the plot had yet to pick up steam. My father was a popular king,
generous and fair, and his Morven subjects weren’t interested in
swapping him for a predatory tyrant. Not after my uncle’s hellish reign.

With Dad’s approval, I’d head for my cousin’s mansion in the
morning and… remind him why betraying King Llŷr Galatyn was a bad idea.
Goran, you cretin, Dad gave you one second chance already. That’s all
you g —

The vision hit between one step and the next, driving into me like a
tournament lance. My knees buckled. I tripped, my face smacking the marble
with a painful pop of light. The world dropped away.

Huge, brilliant eyes stared into mine, irises somewhere between green and
gold, hot and lazy with passion. One corner of the woman’s lush mouth
crooked up as she smiled. Her hair was long, a gleaming mass of green curls
that tumbled around pale, bare shoulders. Her graceful fingers slid through my
hair, her touch both sensual and soothing. “I love you,” she
breathed, her voice throaty, rich with need. “I need you. Now.”

My c*ck hardened in a rush. No surprise, given the feel of her lean, athletic
body, the sweet curves of her small breasts. But what did surprise me was the
peace I felt — as if I’d found the love my parents had. This is a hell
of a lot better than my usual vis —

I should have known better.

The vision shattered into a thousand fragments amid breathless howls of pain.
The accompanying image was worse. Huge talons gripped the woman I’d just
been making love to, digging in as the creature crushed and twisted her like a
scullery wringing a rag. Bones crunched and her green eyes bulged, screams
breaking off into a breathless wheeze of terror and anguish. An immense raptor
beak punched into her belly…


No!
My horror snapped like thin ice over hot rage. I roared, trying to draw
the jeweled sword at my hip, but my body lay paralyzed.

The vision tore, the pieces flying away like shreds of parchment in a
hurricane.

My vision version gripped the curve of the woman’s ass as I pressed her
against the wall. “I swear they won’t get you as long as I
–”

Shreds flew, and she was dressed like an American cop in a black uniform, a
gold badge gleaming on her chest. She stood crouched and ready with a
longsword in her hands in front of a shop window. The English words Summerwood
Spells and Potions
flowed in gold script across the expanse of plate glass.
Lovely face cold with fury, she stepped forward, swinging the sword with
impressive strength —

Another blade rammed straight through her chest. Her unseen attacker lifted
her off her feet and kicked her body off his sword, sending her flying
backward to slam into the window. It shattered, and she fell into the display
beyond, landing amid tumbling bottles that broke under her weight.

Sickened, I stared through the glass shards as she writhed in pain, gasping,
the light draining from her huge green eyes as pumping blood soaked the window
display —

The scene broke apart again, and she pressed silken and strong against
vision-me as I suckled her pretty bare breasts —

I watched her die again.

The tortuous visions went on and on, me making love to her, then witnessing
her murder, each death more twisted and violent than the last — eaten by
monsters, screaming in agony as she burned like a torch, crushed under a
hurtling boulder, thrown by unseen hands over the edge of a cliff, hacked
apart with a massive axe. Nightmare piled on nightmare until I prayed for her
torture to end.

I was no stranger to watching people die — I’d killed my share. But
watching the cop die again and again drove sick, helpless despair through me.
In between those hideous deaths, she stared into my eyes with a love I’d
thought I’d never find. Women bedded me for the power and bragging
rights that came with fucking a prince, but they didn’t love me. I was
the King’s dog, not quite Sidhe enough despite my royal blood.

To everyone, it seemed, but her.

The vision tore for the last time, and I found myself lying on cold tiles
staring at a marble column, my head aching so hard, my eyes throbbed.

“What. The fuck. Was that?” The words emerged as a rumbling growl.
I pushed myself to hands and knees that were as huge and furry as the rest of
my body, fingers tipped in three-inch claws. My werewolf form. When did I
shift?

Didn’t matter. I had to find her, protect her, whoever she was. Right
the hell now.


Yes
, Cachamwri’s voice rumbled from the depths of my mind, the Dragon
God’s magic vibrating in my bones. Without her, we’re all lost.
Find her in Summerwood and let nothing separate you until she’s safe.
Show no mercy to any who would feed upon her.

Over the fifteen years since Cachamwri had demanded my service, I’d
never craved a mission. I craved this one. I had to save her. I couldn’t
let her die, let her suffer, let the assassins torture her. I’d have
gone after her even without your orders.

I know. That’s why you’re my Blade. The god sounded smug.

But Cachamwri wasn’t the only one I owed a duty to. I’ve got to
tell Dad I’m going. I can’t let him get blindsided by this…
whatever the hell it is.

Yes, tell him. But be quick. Without you, she’ll die tonight.

I struggled to my feet, as clumsy and aching as if I’d been beaten with
a bag of bricks. Grimly, I headed down the corridor, the pain falling away as
Cachamwri’s strength flooded me, washing away the ache and confusion.


Bones crunched and her green eyes bulged. Screams breaking off into a
breathless wheeze of terror and anguish. An immense raptor beak punched into
her belly —

The hall spun, and I stumbled against the wall, swallowing bile. I’d be
experiencing flashbacks until I fulfilled my assignment. Goran Galatyn’s
rebellion would have to wait.


Your father will have no kingdom to save if she dies
, the dragon god told me.

I didn’t doubt Cachamwri. Whoever was behind this was a monster, and I
wanted him dead as badly as my god did. I’d never met the green-haired
woman, but I knew her. Her taste, her smile, her passion. I wanted to know
even more. Ached to know everything.

Some sane part of me rebelled. This isn’t me. I didn’t do love at
first sight — not after getting kicked in the teeth by court ladies so often.
Especially not because of a vision, for Cachamwri’s sake. I wasn’t
that kind of impulsive idiot.

But this clawing need said otherwise. I couldn’t let the fuckers kill
her.


You have thirty minutes. No longer
. Cachamwri’s thundering presence
faded to a distant mental rumble. I sighed in relief as the crushing pressure
lifted. Reaching for my magic, I shifted back to Sidhe form, the blue brocade
and silk of my court garb returning, jeweled sword swinging in its scabbard by
my left hip.

Something stung my leg like a hive of bees, the pain so sharp, I jerked and
swore. An abrupt, grinding hunger rolled over me — not for food, but the
blood of the woman’s would-be assassins.

 

 

About the Author

New York Times best-selling author Angela Knight has written and published
more than sixty novels, novellas, and ebooks, including the Mageverse and
Merlin’s Legacy series. With a career spanning more than two decades,
Romantic Times Bookclub Magazine has awarded her their Career Achievement
award in Paranormal Romance, as well as two Reviewers’ Choice awards for
Best Erotic Romance and Best Werewolf Romance.

Angela is currently a writer, editor, and cover artist for Changeling Press
LLC. She also teaches online writing courses. Besides her fiction work,
Angela’s writing career includes a decade as an award-winning South
Carolina newspaper reporter. She lives in South Carolina with her husband,
Michael, a thirty-year police veteran and detective with a local police
department.

Author on Facebook

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Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress

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Audit This! Teaser

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Interracial Romance, Mystery & Suspense

Date Published: May 22, 2026

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No matter how you add the numbers, Nick is one hunk of an auditor!

 

When government tax auditor Nick finds himself obsessed with the work of
romance author Khloe Matters, there’s only one thing to do. Audit her! But
getting a closer look at the author in her own home just makes him switch his
obsession from the writing to the writer.

When he accompanies her to a writers’ festival, things heat up in a hurry.
Neither of them is being entirely honest, and as the weekend progresses so
does the hilariously tangled webs of deceit as each of them seeks to further
their own agenda.

 

Audit This! tablet

 

EXCERPT

“What do you mean you’re disallowing ninety percent of the expenses I
claimed?” Khloe tried not to scream at the smug smile on the auditor’s face.
Hard to believe her libido had jumped to attention when he’d first showed up
at her door. Just went to show how bad a judge of character she was. “You
can’t do that. They are all legitimate business deductions.”

“Really?” The man raised one of those perfect brows. “Care to explain how a
trip to Spain qualifies as a business expense? You’re a writer. You don’t have
to leave the house. You don’t even have to get dressed.”

Khloe gritted her teeth, taking a deep breath to calm herself down before she
answered. She knew his name. Nicholas Carver. She just didn’t think a
government auditor deserved such an impressive name. Calling him a dumb-assed
bean counter probably wouldn’t help her situation, though.

“Although I have not claimed any clothing expenses, I assure you I do have to
get dressed. My neighbours are a conservative bunch. I do have to leave the
house occasionally, and I generally make a point of putting some clothes on
before I do. That trip was for research.” Well, duh, what else would it be?
Maybe this guy got all the looks and none of the brains. “My last mystery
novel was set in Madrid during the running of the bulls. I needed to be there
to get the feel of the place and understand the atmosphere, how the crowd
reacted. I wouldn’t stay in business long if I didn’t pay attention to the
little details. Readers can smell a mistake a mile away, and if I lose their
trust I’ll be working at the grocery store for a fraction of what I make
writing.”

The auditor snorted. “Quite the drama queen, aren’t you? I might accept the
research excuse if the tone came through in your work, assuming we’re talking
about a published manuscript. Do you have a copy of that alleged book?”

The sceptical tone of his voice, not to mention his use of the word “alleged,”
set Khloe’s teeth on edge. How dare he sit there in his perfectly pressed suit
and make her justify every item on her tax return? Oh right. He was the
almighty tax department auditor! Maybe it would help if she curtseyed or
kissed his ring or something.

She smiled sweetly. “Of course.” Turning, she ran her fingers along the spines
of the books on the shelf. Plucking Bullfighter’s Downfall out, she handed it
to him. It took quite some effort to keep her smile from turning into a snarl.
“I hope you enjoy it. It spent two months on the New York Times Best Sellers
list.”

He took the book, his brows rising at the cover picturing a couple in a
passionate embrace against a backdrop of the famous bull run. Turning the book
over, he read the back cover before looking up at her. “Romantic suspense?
You’re one of those kinds of authors?”

Okay, he might be the big-shot auditor, and he had the ability to make her
life, not to mention her finances, a living hell, but he had no right to use
that tone of voice when describing the genre she loved.

“Exactly what do you mean by that?” She straightened up to her full five feet
five inches and glared down at him. “If you mean one of those authors who can
take two characters, introduce them to each other and make them fall
passionately and fervently in love while they dodge bullets, murder, mayhem
and other nasty plot points, then yes. I’m one of these kinds of authors. And
in case you don’t believe me, you might want to ask the thousands of readers
whose buying habits have put me on the New York Times Best Sellers list time
and again.”

“No need to get defensive. It’s hardly War and Peace but I’m sure it’s a very
nice story.”

It took all of her willpower not to grab the heaviest book on the shelf and
smack him over the head with it. War and Peace indeed! “Have you ever tried to
read War and Peace?” She took a step forward, gratified at his flinch. “My
books are meant to entertain people and take them away from their everyday
lives, not bore them to death.”

He had the grace to look uncomfortable. “Well, no, I haven’t actually read it.
I’m more of a John Grisham fan. Lots of war but not much peace.”

She felt the tension in her gut relaxing a bit. He wasn’t quite the
pretentious prig he looked like. Actually, if she took an honest look at him,
he resembled the cover models for some of her steamier books.

And that gave her an idea.

 

 

About the Author

 

Anne Kane lives in the beautiful Okanagan Valley with a bouncy little rescue
dog whose breed defies description, a cantankerous Himalayan cat, and too many
fish to count. She spent many years trying to fit in and act normal, but
finally gave up the effort. She started writing romance in 2008, and her fate
was sealed when she won a publishing contract with Red Sage Publishing and
just a month later Changeling Press accepted her first submission. Since then
she has published more than thirty stories in a variety of sub-genres, all
with a happily ever after.

She has two handsome sons and six adorable grandchildren and enjoys spending
time with them whenever she can. Her hobbies, when she’s not playing
with the characters in her head, include kayaking, hiking, swimming, playing
guitar, singing and of course, reading.

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Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress

 

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Carrion Virtual Book Tour

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A Byrd & Crowe Mystery Series, Book 1

Mystery / Suspense

Date Published: 10-15-2022

Publisher: New Atlantian Library

 

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A young woman with a questionable past…

A family struggling to find common ground…

A murder victim with no known enemies…

 

Determined to overcome the dark secrets she helped reveal three years ago
when she rescued a baby from a locked car and ran away, Xandra Byrd is now a
student in criminology at the local community college and an accepted part
of her biological family. Still, she struggles to escape the demons of her
dysfunctional childhood. But when the woman who helped put her family back
together is murdered, and she and her brother implicated in the crime,
Xandra must return to the dark side of human nature in search of a killer.
Will she solve the mystery and clear her name, or will she become the next
victim?

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EXCERPT

One 

 

Xandra Byrd stepped out the back door of the Buns N Fries and headed into the wind. Above the drive-thru lane, a vulture circled, its graceful swoop a contrast to the ugliness of its beaked face. Sunset streaked the sky in shades of red and purple, deepening the shadows as the bird hovered, then, joined by a companion, dipped lower. One of the lids on the garbage bins must have blown open, inviting the scavengers to feast on discarded French fries and half-eaten burgers. Goose bumps peppered Xandra’s arms. She inhaled sharply.

Along with the odor of grease emanating from the restaurant, the scent of decaying lilacs, now past prime bloom, drifted from the bushes separating the eastern half of the parking lot from the dinner theater next door. She gazed from the hedge to the screen of cedars hiding the trash enclosure and the prairie and the wooded land beyond. The forest called her. She wouldn’t mind disappearing into the cool darkness under the trees. A hike was preferrable to gathering used ketchup packets and nagging employees to bus tables. Dragging the trash, Xandra swallowed the unease that had dogged her since the argument with her parents earlier that day. Their suggestion that she return to counseling with Reverend Loving meant she wasn’t successfully hiding her unhappiness. But she didn’t need counseling. She needed to move on with her life, to leave the past behind for good. A discarded burger bag blew across the lot. When a stronger gust ripped the trash from her hand, she chased it down and trudged on.

Overhead, the raptors wheeled back. They often soared above the Hopewell-Springboro corridor, drawn to the fast-food joints and the Kroger Superstore. Vultures, Xandra recalled, could detect rotting meat up to a mile away. Yuck, and useless trivia. She scurried across the drive-thru lane, threading the queue of vans filled with soccer moms and their kids. Fumes from the idling vehicles made her eyes water. Her parents’ request echoed in her mind. They knew her previous years had not been easy, and they supported her decision to enroll in Sinclair Community College’s criminal justice program. What they didn’t know is she hoped that following in her real father’s footsteps, becoming a detective someday, would convince her she belonged in the Zetts family, that Joe and Leah, despite giving her up when she was born, did truly love her. She was trying to fit in. She did her fair share of chores and was paying her way through school, even though Joe and Leah insisted she didn’t have to. If her parents would just stop trying so hard to make things right. Screw the past and let it go. Yeah, if only she could do that, too. Shoving a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she unlatched the gate in the fence around the trash cans. 

Lost in thought, she yelped when the hasp pinched her thumb, then sucked at the blood blister. The wind caught the door and banged it against the enclosure. She stepped inside and paused, puzzled by a dark smudge on the concrete beneath her sneaker. She detected the faint odor of burning, then shrugged. Maybe one of the other employees had grabbed a smoke during their break. She inspected the bins. None of the lids stood open. The fence slammed shut behind her just as a third vulture glided past, wings spread to slow its descent. Still favoring the bruised thumb, she lifted the lid on the first bin, assailed by an unfamiliar odor. Fighting the urge to throw up, she deposited the garbage and turned to leave. Then she screamed.

A woman in a dark skirt and jacket lay splayed across the concrete apron, her face turned away from Xandra. Low-heeled black flats dangled from the woman’s feet. One arm curled around her waist. The other lay at a ninety-degree angle above her shoulder, the hand clutching a scrap of paper that rustled in the wind swirling through the openings in the wooden slats. Xandra clapped a hand over her mouth and swore. Pinching her nose against the smell, she crouched over the body. Blood had pooled beneath the woman’s head and neck, spreading around her like a large, malignant shadow. A last ray of twilight leaked between the slats, illuminating the concrete pad. Something metallic gleamed by the woman’s shoulder. Xandra leaned closer. A pin in the shape of a bird stared up at her, the beak smeared with crimson. Glancing over her shoulder, she snatched the pin and stuffed it in her pocket. 

“Xandra?” Her name drifted, tinny and remote, from the squawk box on the outside order kiosk. Reggie Lynx, one of the night shift workers, shouted again. “Hey, Byrd, you get lost out there?”

She shoved her shoulders against the gate, which rattled but refused to open. When the door slammed shut, the latch must have fallen into place. She backed away from the body and stood on tiptoe to peer over the fence. “Reggie? Help! I’m locked in.” 

Laughter echoed from the speaker before a car drove by, cutting off the sound. Xandra snaked her hand over the pickets to slap at the latch until it slid free. When the gate swung open, she braced her leg against the wood to prevent it from reclosing. Then she took out her phone.

“911. What is your emergency?” A dispatch officer answered on the second ring.

“Hello? This is Xandra Byrd. I manage the night shift at the Buns N Fries.”

“What’s your emergency, Ms. Byrd?”

Xandra closed her hand around the bird pin in her pocket. The vultures circled lower. “I’m at the Buns N Fries, 728 Hopewell-Springboro Pike. There’s a dead body in the trash shed.”

“Did you check for a pulse?”

“No, but I don’t have to. The woman’s dead.” Xandra paused when the sound cut off. “Hello? Are you there?”

“An officer is on his way to your location. Stay on the line, Ms. Byrd.”

Xandra gripped the phone so tightly her hand shook. “Hurry, please. I’m not positive, but I think it’s Reverend Loving.”

About the Author

Carrion tablet 

J.E. Irvin is the author of five mystery/thriller novels, a two-time winner
of the Whodunit Award, and a member of SistersinCrime, Central Ohio Fiction
Writers, Buckeye Crime Writers, and the Ohio Writers Association. Irvin, her
husband, and their two cats reside on the edge of a nature park which serves
as inspiration for her work. For more about the author, check out
www.janetirvin.com and sign up for her newsletter as well as updates on
future Byrd& Crowe mysteries.
 

 

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