Instead, I forced myself to smile and swallow and remind myself the elbow length yellow rubber gloves grasping the handle of the standard issue plunger were all that stood between me and Pooageddon.Suck it up, Fee. Big girl panties and adulting and all that."At what point," I waved the dripping plunger, wincing as droplets of yuck flew, "did I think owning a bed and breakfast was going to be glamorous and romantic?"Fiona Fleming hasn't lived in Reading, Vermont in over a decade, her escape from small town living leading her to New York City and a life of adventure. An adventure that has left her with no career, an ex who cheated on her and zero plans for the future. Her grandmother's death grants her a new chance--inheriting Petunia's, Iris Fleming's bed and breakfast, seems like the ideal fresh start. But when Fee finds out ownership of the property Iris willed her might be in question, she's drawn into the seedy underbelly of the cutest town in America after being singled out as the main suspect in a murder.

    She assumes it will be routine, a scene like many other accidents she's covered.She's wrong.This was no ordinary accident.And as Nichelle digs deeper into the case, people and evidence begin to disappear. Someone is one step ahead of her, desperate to cover their tracks. A master criminal with a deadly secret, who will stop at nothing to keep the truth hidden...But as she draws closer to unraveling the mystery of two dead cops, Nichelle realizes she's become the next target. Can she survive this murderous game of cat and mouse long enough to solve the mystery? Or will Nichelle fall prey to a killer?

    Quiet St. Marin’s has just gotten a little more lively . . . and a little less alive.All Harvey Beckett wants to do is read books, help the residents of St. Marin’s find the perfect book for that moment, and snuggle with her hound dog Mayhem. But when the small, waterside town’s newest resident discovers the body of the community’s persnickety reporter in her bookshop storeroom on opening day, Harvey finds herself bound and determined to figure out the crime. Her task won’t be easy, though, since the town is flooded with visitors for the first annual Harriet Tubman Festival to honor the community’s most famous resident. Plus, a quiet but charming mechanic named Daniel isn’t helping with her concentration at all.Publishable By Death is the first book in the St. Marin’s Cozy Mystery Series by ACF. Bookens.

    But then Pali learns the lavish wedding must take place on Valentine’s Day—only nine days away. Oh, and one other little hitch—the groom’s been missing at sea for more than a week. But no worries, the bride assures Pali, with or without the groom the wedding will take place. She’s struck a deal with the groom’s best friend to be his proxy, if necessary. Two days before the nuptials, a male corpse floats ashore on a South Maui beach. Looks like the groom’s shown up just in time. But what’s it gonna be—a wedding…or a funeral?Show More Show Less

    Instead, she reinvents herself and the new Bobbie Jones—new haircut, new name, new attitude—follows her soon-to-be ex to the small Northern California town of Cottonmouth. What better way to show him—and his sweetheart—what he’s missing in the brand new Bobbie Jones than taking up with the town’s local bad boy—who’s also reputed to be a serial killer. Nick Angel is devilishly handsome and sexy as all get-out. In a word, perfect.It’s all going exactly according to plan...until a real murder rocks the little town of Cottonmouth. Of course, Nick didn’t do it...did he?“She’s Gotta Be Mine”, previously published as “Sex and the Serial Killer”,

    But there’s a problem—Quincy is now the main suspect in The Vulture’s murder. Armed with only her Zombie delivery van, good intentions, and the business card of a handsome cop named Alex, she must find the killer, save the flower shop, and keep from ending up in the next casket. If she can dodge burning bushes, the plague of a polygamist ex, and her mother's Mormon Mafia Spy Network, her life with Alex and her shop could become the perfect arrangement.

    For a start she discovers something unsettling in the basement that interests the police officer next door.

    His ex-fiancee is deader than a door nail and everyone thinks he dun did it. His house is haunted. His mother is running an illegal gambling ring. His dog likes to bite people too much. And he's got to find out who really did it before the sheriff throws him in jail...again.

    One too many suitors. And a killer. Living in Honey Hollow can be murder. A HILARIOUS cozy mystery from the New York Times bestselling author Addison Moore My name is Lottie Lemon and I see dead people. Okay, so I rarely see dead people, mostly I see furry creatures of the dearly departed variety. And for some reason those sweet, fluffy albeit paranormal cuties always seem to act as a not-so-great harbinger of deadly things to come for their previous owner. So when I saw that sweet orange tabby twirling around my landlord’s ankles, I figured Merilee was in for trouble. Personally, I was hoping for a skinned knee—what I got was a top spot in an open homicide investigation. Throw in a hot judge and an ornery detective that oozes testosterone and that pretty much sums up my life right about now. Have I mentioned how cute that detective is? Lottie Lemon has a bakery to tend to, a budding romance with perhaps one too many suitors and she has the supernatural ability to see the dead—which are always harbingers for ominous things to come. Throw in the occasional ghost of the human variety, a string of murders and her insatiable thirst for justice and you’ll have more chaos than you know what to do with. Living in the small town of Honey Hollow can be murder.

    Fearing her daughter might be next, single mom, Violet Parker, is desperate to find the monster behind the abductions. With her savings dwindling and just three weeks left to sell her first house or lose her Realtor job, Violet is ecstatic when a handsome jeweler hires her to sell his century-old, Victorian masterpiece until she sees the dilapidated dwelling. Now, if she could just convince her only buyer to stop rejecting vintage homes as if they're haunted. Short on time and long on worry, she refuses to give up her dream of a fresh start in Deadwood. But with a malicious coworker trying to get her fired, a secret admirer sending her creepy messages, and a sexy stranger hiding skeletons in his closet, will Violet end up as one of Deadwood's dearly departed?

    Pushing forty and still single, Hetta is the epitome of the b word: bold, bossy, brassy, breezy and brash. After leaving a lifelong swath of failed multi-national affairs in her jet stream, it is no wonder Hetta prefers living with her dog R.J. But old habits die hard, and trolling for triceps is Hetta s hobby. Plying the waterfront in search of Saturday brunch, Hetta s attention is snagged by a parade of passing yacht--especially their predominantly male skippers--and experiences a champagne-induced epiphany: if she had a boat, she could get a man. In hopes a floating Valhalla will overcome an all-time low-water mark in her life, Hetta buys her dream boat in spite of a spectacular ignorance of all things nautical. But a shadowy stalker, an inconvenient body, and Hetta s own self-destructive foibles imperil not only her new life, but a newly- found romance.

    Sure, her patients might smell like mold and have spines made of leather, but no ailing book is going to die on her watch. The same can’t be said of Abraham Karastovsky, Brooklyn’s friend and former employer. On the eve of a celebration for his latest book restoration, Brooklyn finds her mentor lying in a pool of his own blood. With his final breath Abraham leaves Brooklyn with a cryptic message, “Remember the Devil,” and gives her a priceless—and supposedly cursed—copy of Goethe’s Faust for safe-keeping. Brooklyn suddenly finds herself accused of murder and theft, thanks to Derek Stone, the humorless—and annoyingly attractive—British security officer who found her kneeling over the body. Now she has to read the clues left behind by her mentor if she is going to restore justice…

    … Controlling to chaos. … But murder … seriously? After her ex-husband leaves her high and dry, former socialite Doreen Montgomery's chance at a new life comes in the form of her grandmother, Nan's, dilapidated old house in picturesque Kelowna … and the added job of caring for the animals Nan couldn’t take into assisted living with her: Thaddeus, the loquacious African gray parrot with a ripe vocabulary, and his buddy, Goliath, a monster-size cat with an equally monstrous attitude. It’s the new start Doreen and her beloved basset hound, Mugs, desperately need. But, just as things start to look up for Doreen, Goliath the cat and Mugs the dog find a human finger in Nan’s overrun garden. And not just a finger. Once the police start digging, the rest of the body turns up and turns out to be connected to an old unsolved crime. With her grandmother as the prime suspect, Doreen soon finds herself stumbling over clues and getting on Corporal Mack Moreau’s last nerve, as she does her best to prove her beloved Nan innocent of murder.

    Desperate to keep up the family name and give the man a decent burial, penniless Lil cooks up a shady deal that lands her smack-dab in the slammer.Burdened by her shameful secret and a crumbling family estate, Lil entrusts Summer Haven’s care to her best friend, Maggie, who recruits two more over-fifty ladies to help. But when Maggie discovers that Lil’s restitution is ten times the amount she “borrowed” from the federal government, she’s convinced Lil has taken the fall for someone else’s crime.Will these gals be able to get some vigilante justice for Lil, or will the swindler get away with hoodwinking a sweet little old lady?Recipes included!(Originally published as In for a Penny in the Granny/G Team series)

    Donna Stone has one…and it happens to be government-sanctioned. She earned it the hard way: her husband was killed the day she delivered her third child. To avenge his death, she leads a secret life – as an assassin. But espionage makes for strange bedfellows – and brings new meaning to that old adage, "Honey, I’m home…"