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                                                            Holiday Cozies are the best! If you’re like me and love to get festive with holiday-themed books, check out Deadly Patterns and A Murder Yule Regret. Deadly Patterns From the author of the Harlow Cassidy Mystery Series comes a Christmas story filled with merriment, mystery, and murder. Bliss, Texas, is gearing up for its annual Winter Wonderland festival, but when a mysterious Scrooge ends the merriment with murder, it’ll take more than a ghost from Christmas past to set things right. Designing a holiday fashion show set in the town’s most prominent historic mansion seems like a job tailor made for dressmaker Harlow Jane Cassidy. But with the mansion’s restoration still in progress and threatening weather on the horizon, she’s feeling on pins and needles more than reveling in holiday cheer. Having volunteered to play Santa in this year’s festival, Dan Lee Chrisson was ready to move on after his divorce—until Bliss became his final resting place. Discovering his body puts Harlow at the scene of the crime. She’ll need plenty of help from friends and even her late great-grandmother’s spirited sleuthing if she’s to have a ghost of a chance of catching a killer who’s just jumped to the top of the naughty list…. A Murder Yule Regret                                                                                                    Freelance photographer and Yeast of Eden bakery assistant Ivy Culpepper has just scored the job of a lifetime shooting the Dickensian dress-up X-mas party thrown by It Girl film actress Eliza Fox . . . until an unwanted guest appears. A holiday costume party in the sleepy coastal town of Santa Sofia could be just the boost Ivy needs for her fledgling photography business. At the party, Ivy enters a Victorian fantasy come to life, all courtesy of the fabulous Ms. Fox. Ivy gets to play shutterbug while hanging with Scrooge, Marley, the Cratchits, and more classic Dickens characters.  But what begins as the best of times turns out to be the very worst for one of the party guests—a tabloid journalist with more enemies than Ebenezer himself. When the man’s body is found sprawled across the jagged rocks below the house, the fingers begin pointing at Eliza. Meanwhile, Ivy gets roped into helping prove the starlet’s innocence. Her festive photos are now official evidence—and the Ghosts of Christmas Present could mean the party for Eliza is over, once and for all. Universal Link for all retailers       

Chapter 1 “Will you welcome to the stage, the one, the only… Mr. Magic Mike!” ~Magic Mike North Carolina’s Outer Banks were legendary. From Cape Hatteras to the isolated island of Ocracoke, the place was ripe with legends and lore. The Graveyard of the Atlantic attracted treasure hunters, fishermen chartered boats, and sun worshipers flooded the place each summer. Albermarle Sound was to the north of Devil’s Cove. Roanoke Sound was to the east. Croatan Sound flowed to the west. And to the south was the inlet of Pamlico Sound. A swing bridge connected the island to the mainland, and ferries ran several times a day with cars and people starting their vacations or ending them. The town itself was quaint and beachy and was home to generations of families, and would continue to be for generations to come. The beaches on the island…the old fishing pier…the marinas…the protected cove…all of it gave Devil’s Cove its own charm. Its own sparkling personality. So did Hattie Juniper Pickle. Hattie came from a long line of locals. Her great-great-great-granddaddy had built the house she still lived in. Like so many other old’uns, he’d worked on the water, fishing mainly, but crabbing some. And he’d enjoyed a good, stiff drink—or two—after a day battling the fickle waves of the Atlantic. Hattie’s great-great-granddaddy had also planted the Loblolly Pine, which stood sentry in her yard, keeping an eye on the residents—both permanent and temporary—on Rum Runner Lane. Hattie had been born and raised here, and she knew very well that she would die here—but not anytime soon. She’d quit smoking, which, had she kept on, would have been the most likely thing to kill her. Now, she carried around an unlit cigarette, because if she could resist the constant temptation it threatened, well, she could survive anything. She was, what some call, a free spirit. No one…and she meant no one…was ever going to tell her what to do or how to do it. If she wanted to dye her silvery hair neon green, that’s what she did. If she wanted it purple or periwinkle or orange, she made that happen. The fact of the matter was, her free-spiritedness lived side by side with her rules and boundaries. Her devil-may-care side meant she used the hottest pinkest lipstick known to man. She wore whatever she wanted—and the closer the colors were to the rainbow, the better. She believed in mixing patterns. Why couldn’t plaid go with polka dots? Who were the fashion police, anyway? Her rules were that she never left home without a ciggy. She might keep it in her lunchbox, purse, dangling from between two fingers, or tucked behind one ear, but she always had one. And she went to bed every night at ten o’clock. That regular sleep kept her body and skin in tip-top shape. She had learned over the years to set boundaries. People tried to guess her age—that was fine—but she never…ever…told them if they were right. She drew the line at marrying the same man twice. That lesson had come the hard way when she had jumped the broom with the same man. Husband #1 had also been husband #3. The third time was not the charm. Finally, if someone crossed a person she cared about, she would hunt them down and pounce like a hungry tiger. Her daddy had often told her she was an enigma wrapped inside a cunundrum. Once she understood what those words meant, she happily agreed. Embraced the idea, even. The island’s stilted beach houses were painted all the colors of the rainbow, and that made her heart rejoice. Hers was lavender and teal. Sometimes it matched her hair, sometimes her clothing, and it always matched her personality. At the moment, she stood under the Loblolly pine, an unlit cigarette dangling from between her fingers, wondering what in the world she had done. Agreeing to a…to a…date? With a stranger? The twang of bluegrass music coming from next door momentarily distracted her. Aaron Cox clanked around under the hood of his old Ford pickup truck. “Magic Mike!” he hollered above the music, though not to her, and that was a shame, because she did love her some Magic Mike. Rumor had it that Channing Tatum was going to be in Myrtle Beach over the weekend. There weren’t many things she’d go off island for. Magic Mike was definitely one of them. Aaron hollered at another man, tall and thick, who leaned against the car. “It’s fixed. A done deal. It’s Magic Mike.” The friend guffawed. “Whatever. You gotta chase your dreams, dude. Chase your dreams.” The song ended and they dropped their voices to a normal level. Aaron waved an oil-stained blue rag around. “Nah. Nah. It’s a done deal. Magic Mike.” The bulky man threw up a hand in resignation. “Okay, man, if that’s what you want, then it’s Magic Mike. It’ll happen. It’s gonna happen.” A new song started, muffling their conversation. A giggling passel of preteen girls drew her attention across the street. The dark-haired one lived in the house next to Sea Captain’s Inn. What was her name? Tawny? Taylor? Hattie couldn’t remember. They’d moved in a month ago, and from the looks of it, the girl—Tiffany! That was it!—had wasted no time making friends. The girl’s parents—jeez, what were their names?—piddled around in the front yard pulling weeds and trimming shrubs. Hattie waved her cigarette hand to them. “Mornin’! Beaut of a day,” she said, and it was. Spring had sprung, the temps were sticking in the upper 60s, and flowers were starting to bloom. “Morning, Hattie!” the woman called just as the music next door faded again. The girls all stopped and stared at her. One of them turned to Tiffany’s mother and spoke plenty loud enough for Hattie to hear. “Who’s that? It’s like a rainbow threw up on her.” Hattie arched a brow and notched her hip to one side. Like a bag of Skittles threw up. She’d heard her fair share of comments about her aesthetic: You’re a Garanimals Grammy! No, she wasn’t, in fact, a grandmother.  Look! She has rainbow hair! She rather liked that one. Being compared to a bag of Skittles, that was new. It was the throwing up part she took exception to. Tiffany came to her defense, batting her friend on her arm. “That’s rude. Miss Hattie’s funny.” Hattie aimed a toothy smile like an arrow, straight at Tiffany. She knew she liked that girl. She looked down at her pink almost mini-skirt, the striped knee socks that stopped under her boney knees, and her rainbow Crocs. Eclectic, yes. Peculiar, maybe. But Skittle vomit? No. “Hey ya, Hattie.” She whipped around at the sound of a man’s voice. Ah, it was Tank Jones and he strode toward her. She and Tank had grown up together. They were friendly, but not exactly friends. His real name was Tracy, but he’d taken enough grief over it that he’d embraced the nickname given to him by his football teammates back in high school. “Tank,” she said. “What’re you doin’ on this side of DC?” “Came to see how the other half live,” he deadpanned as he came to a stop. It was true, this side of the island was closest to the water, which made it one of the pricier areas, but Devil’s Cove itself wasn’t the most popular Outer Banks island. Other locales were much more exclusive and expensive. If she remembered correctly, Tank lived in a newer neighborhood on the south end of the island. It was hit or miss if the cookie cutter houses would be able to withstand the hurricanes that blew through every few years. “Educating your taste, as I like to say.” Next door, Aaron Cox left his Ford and his friend and came to the sidewalk. “Yo, Tank! Good to see you, man!” Tank lifted his arm. “Yo.” Aaron tapped an invisible watch on his wrist. “You comin’, or what?” “Yeah, yeah. Coming.” He lifted his chin at Hattie. “Poker game. Gotta go.” “Midday gambling. Nothin’ better. Is Maude playin’ today?” He grumbled. “Every Tuesday and Wednesday.“ Hattie took that to mean that Tank lost money to her old friend, Maude Whistler, every Tuesday and Wednesday. Thatta girl, Maude! Tank frowned at Hattie’s wide smile. “You can do me a solid and tell her to back off once in a while.” “No can do, Tank. Would you back off if it was you winnin’?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Good luck.” Sounded like he was going to need it. She noticed a slight limp as he sauntered past her, following in Aaron’s wake. The bluegrass music stopped once and for all, and the men disappeared inside. She shifted her gaze to Sea Captain’s Inn. As if on cue, Pippin Lane Hawthorne, owner of the inn, appeared on the porch. She spotted Hattie, waved, and practically skipped down the porch steps. She moved as if a load had been lifted off her shoulders. Which it actually had—Irish curses and all that. Hattie waited for a car to pass then started across the street. Pippin had cut across the patch of grass, intercepting her on the sidewalk. Her eyes skimmed over Pippin. She wore jeans and a plain coral-colored t-shirt and was cuter than a baby dolphin. Most telling, though, was the glow in her cheeks. “You off to see Jamie?” Pippin smiled. “Close. Book club with Heidi at Devil’s Brew.” Jamie McAdams ran the bookshop in town, and Heidi was his tween-age daughter. A book club was good for those two. For Hattie? She was too antsy for that. She liked to be up and moving, wearing out the route she took to Main Street, the pier, and everywhere else she went in town. Pippin was a sweet girl, though. So much like her mother. Cassie had lived briefly with Hattie. She’d rented a room when she’d first come to Devil’s Cove from the West Coast, and then when she’d married Leo Hawthorne, they’d bought the old Hubbard house across the street. Now it was owned by twenty-nine-year-old twins, Pippin and Grey, who had turned it into a successful inn. Even though Devil’s Cove was an off-the-beaten-track island, there was rarely a shortage of island vacationers. “You’re bright as a star. Did you find them?” Hattie asked. For the past few months, Pippin had been on a hunt for her mother’s old journals. Hattie knew they had existed, once upon a time. She’d caught glimpses of Cassie writing in them, but after she married Leo, Hattie had never seen them again. “No,” Pippin said, her smile faltering slightly. “I’ve searched everywhere.” “She loved the garden. Remember she worked at Bloom for years,” she said, referring to the garden center north of downtown. “Checked, checked, and checked again.” They’d torn apart the room Cassie had rented before she’d met Leo. Theirs had been a love affair for the books. “Hattie?” If there was such a thing as true love, Cassie and Leo had had it. Maybe Pippin and Jamie did, too. Time would tell. “Hattie?” But would she, Hattie Juniper Pickle, ever find that kind of love again? Pippin snapped her fingers in front of Hattie’s face. “Are you okay?” Hattie blinked. “Online dating,” she blurted. Talk about a non sequitur. Pippin blinked at her. “What about it?” Hattie pressed her lips together, then popped them apart. Darn, now she needed to reapply her pink lipstick. She looked down. Around. She hadn’t brought it with her. “Hattie?” She scrunched her face up as if she couldn’t bear to think about what she’d done. And then she spilled her guts. “I signed up for online dating! Husband number four is out there waiting on me somewhere. I just hope he’s here on island.” Pippin cupped a hand to her ear as if she hadn’t heard Hattie, which was, of course, impossible since they were standing three

  Reviewer Praise for Murder and an Irish Curse “I wholeheartedly recommend!…This book is rich with mythology and history with a bit of intriguing spell-casting and tarot, and the multi-generational characters add an exciting range of personalities from helpful to interfering, from sane to quirky, from open to secretive, from good to evil…Top contender for my Best of 2022!” ~Kings River Life Magazine “To say it’s a page turner is not doing it justice. The writing is so well done that the reader feels as though they are actually entrenched with the characters experiencing all the twists and turns that kept me enthralled throughout.” ~Amazon Reader “I can honestly say that I could not stop reading this once I started…” ~Amazon Reader “I do not know where to begin with a review of this book except to say that this series remains one of the best I have ever read.“ ~a BookBub Reader “This series quickly became a favorite, and this book’s a prime example of why. The book is well-written with well-rounded characters, and a well-thought-out, original plot. The various relationships are well-done. I was drawn into this enchanting story from the beginning and kept hooked throughout.“ ~a BookBub Reader “The book’s nail-biting conclusion and the events leading up to it will have readers holding their breath! …The author puts the reader in a perfectly rendered Outer Banks setting. She brings myth and legend to life and her imaginary characters come alive on the page. Kudos for an outstanding cozy!“ ~a Goodreads Reader “No matter how much I tried to slow myself down while reading this book, I just wasn’t successful. I flew through this book. I wanted to slow down because I could tell we were coming to an end and I wasn’t ready.” ~Amazon Reader “The author expertly weaves a tale with enough twists and turns that will keep you guessing until the very end where the answer to the mystery is hiding in plain sight.” ~Amazon Reader

Diane Kelly and I will be at Buxton Village Books on June 30th for a Porch Book Signing Event! I love this bookshop on the Outer Banks, and Gee Gee, the owner, is such a delight. She supports local authors and has made her bookstore a destination for so many people. If you’re in the North Carolina area, come to the Outer Banks and Buxton Village Books on June 30th from noon-2!

I haven’t done very many reading events, especially in the last several years. When I was invited to be a guest at Murder in the Magic City in Birmingham and Murder on the Menu in Wetumpka, both in Alabama, I jumped at the chance. It was so much fun to be around readers and other mystery writers. And–so fun!– the lovely Deborah Holt won the auction event to have her name as a character in one of my books. I already know who she’ll be! So many talented authors! Lovely masked audience ? Murder in the Magic City Panel With Deborah Holt, who will appear in one of my books! Diane Kelly, SC Merritt, and moi ?

In my newsletter a few weeks ago, I asked my lovely readers what they were thankful for. So many people replied with really touching, meaningful, and often personal reflections. Thank you to those who shared. I am honored you shared your thoughts with me. I compiled these reflections into some fun holiday word art. I couldn’t decide which one I liked best, so I’m sharing several of them here. Feel free to download and share so we can continue to spread holiday spirit and thankfulness. 

For America, it’s Thanksgiving week. Whether you’re here in the U.S., or somewhere else in the world, I want to take a moment to share with you my gratitude, and to reflect on the year gone by. I have so much to be thankful for. My family, friends, my sweet pups, the forest, and that we’re all healthy are givens. I have so much more for which I have gratitude, especially in my writing world. Here are just a few, just because… ?  The fact that I have a career doing the thing I love doing the most…writing!?  Words! I am a vocabulary lover. We have a box of SAT words at the dinner table and quiz ourselves regularly!?  Grammar. Enough said.?  WriterSpark Writing Academy! I’m so thrilled to be able to pay it forward and help aspiring writers.?  All the writers who came before…JRR Tolkien; Margaret Mitchell; Frances Hodgson Burnett; Homer; Orson Scott Card; CS Lewis; Jane Austin; Shakespeare; Mary Shelley; Dickens; Poe; Hemingway; Fitzgerald; Steinbeck; Robert Louis Stevenson… I could go on and on!? And the poets, especially Robert Frost, because like him, I took the road less traveled. ?  All the stories yet to be told, simmering in writer’s minds.?  All the words yet to be written, that will make up those stories.?  Art and how it influences my writing.?  And you, lovely readers. I am SO thankful for each and every one of you. Wishing you all a wonderful week full of hope and gratitude, and good books. Happy Reading!