Greetings, Noters!
It’s been a month of fabulous news.
First off, on a personal note, George and I celebrated May the 4th Be with You (May 4th) by getting married! In a beautiful ceremony at the Wynn Resort in Las Vegas, we tied the knot. It feels like a dream; it was truly a special moment in our journey, and I’m so excited for what’s to come. I’ll be sharing more wedding photos on my socials when we have them, but here’s a never-before-scene moment from after the wedding with my reception dress! This was captured right before George and I met a longtime hero/celebrity from our video gaming community. We couldn’t believe our luck!
In bookish news, it’s also been an amazing time. I recently learned that #TagMe for Murder, Trending Topic Mystery book two, was named a 2024 Finalist for NGIBA’s Best Chick Lit Fiction! How cool is that? It’s always such an honor to have my work recognized in this way. What’s even more cool is that being in the Chick Lit Fiction category has introduced me to a whole new group of wonderful readers! A win for me!
As you might have seen on social media over the past week, I am also gearing up to release Flying Off the Candle, Glenmyre Whim Mystery book three. Yes, Hazel and Poppy’s next mystery adventure is finally here. I apologize you’ve had to wait so long, but I think it will be worth the wait! Not only will Hazel and Poppy be launching on Amazon but also across all eBook, audiobook, and paperback retailers! I can’t wait for more readers to be introduced to the town of Crucible and Hazel’s world of whims.
As a special treat for you, I’m sharing Chapter One of Flying Off the Candle for your enjoyment! Have fun visiting Crucible 🥰
Flying Off the Candle
Chapter One
“Holy hexes!” Poppy Glenmyre gripped the steering wheel, her blue eyes wide. “This doesn’t look good.”
I shifted in the passenger’s seat of her Subaru, trying to get a better vantage point of the scene playing out in front of the Sherwin Memorial Library. “Whoa, is that Marjorie? What is she still doing in town?” I glanced at my thirty-three-year-old best friend and aunt. “I thought Constance tossed her out.”
“She did.” Poppy’s right eye twitched as she slowed her SUV to a halt. “And I think that’s part of the problem.”
I swallowed back a barrage of questions. There would be time later to ask what Poppy had seen in the auras of the two women currently raging at each other in the shadow of the stately library. It didn’t take a supernatural ability to see there was something dreadfully amiss.
I unbuckled and tossed an apologetic look over my shoulder at the backseat. “Sorry, girl. You stay here for a few minutes. We’ll be right back.”
Magnolia, my border collie-corgi rescue, or “bordgie” as Poppy called her, sat secure in her safety harness, a goofy grin on her face. She was just happy to be along for the ride.
With the windows cracked to allow Noli plenty of fresh springtime air, Poppy and I hopped out of the SUV and hurried toward the tense scene that we could hear clear across the parking lot.
“What part of ‘get out of my life’ did you not understand?”
Our good friend Constance Crane ran an aggravated hand through her honey-colored hair. Normally a cheerful ray of sunshine, Constance looked like she’d just gotten back developmental edits from her editor and hated what she saw.
Standing opposite her was sharp, sophisticated Marjorie Zeller. Constance had introduced us a few weeks ago during trivia night at Cold Cauldron Brewing. Marjorie was a college friend of Constance’s, visiting while the two did “writing sprints” together. At the time, Poppy and I just nodded along, as neither of us had any idea what writing sprints were.
“Look, Con, you can throw me out of your house, you can ice me out, but you can’t run me out of town. You don’t own this place.” Marjorie folded her arms across her chest. “Besides, I’m not even bothering you by being here. You’re the one who got up all in my face.”
Constance scoffed. “Not bothering me? Just looking at you makes me sick. I can’t believe you. I can’t believe what you did!” She stomped her feet on the pavement, her hands balled into fists. “I swear, if I ever see you again—”
“Constance!” Poppy interrupted the heated argument, her tone uncharacteristically cool. “Maybe we should take this conversation elsewhere,” she suggested through gritted teeth.
Constance stepped back, clearly startled by our sudden appearance. “What? Why…” Her voice trailed off as she answered her own question. Curious faces were glued to the windows of the library, staring eagerly at the stormy spectacle. Several of the library’s patrons had come outside to blatantly watch the confrontation unfold. Luckily, it didn’t look like anyone had pulled out their phones to livestream an argument featuring one of America’s most famous mystery authors. Yet.
Constance tugged nervously at the neck of her cable-knit sweater as if trying to hide her beet-red face.
I hurried to her side and threaded my arm through hers. “Let’s get some food in you, C.” To a wary Marjorie, I joked, “I’m sure you know how hangry she can get.”
Poppy and I didn’t wait for a peeved Marjorie to respond. Together, we escorted Constance to my aunt’s SUV before she could make an even bigger scene.
“What in broomsticks was that about?” Poppy asked as soon as the doors were closed and the windows were rolled up.
Constance scratched Noli’s left—and only—ear before muttering, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“What is Marjorie still doing in Crucible?” I prodded her for more details as Poppy started the engine and drove toward Lakeside Mulligan’s, our intended dining spot. “I thought she left a couple of weeks ago.”
Constance folded her arms as she sank into the backseat. “That’s what I was trying to figure out. Ugh, I can’t believe her!”
At the fifty-eight syllables Constance added to the word ‘believe,’ Poppy and I shared cautious glances. “Hey, we’re here for you. You know that, right?” Poppy hedged, her gaze flicking to the rearview mirror. “But going off on Marjorie like that in public isn’t a good look. Not when everyone has a camera at the ready, waiting to take down a high-profile figure online.”
Constance rolled her eyes with a huff, and for a moment, she reminded me of an angsty teen rather than an accomplished author in her thirties. “She deserved it after what she did.”
I chewed on my lower lip as I turned around and settled into the front passenger’s seat. Neither Poppy nor I knew what Marjorie had “done” to cause Constance to throw her out of her waterfront colonial home. Over the past two weeks, whenever we tried to get Constance to open up about the vexing situation, she’d change the subject. Eventually, we took the hint and stopped asking.
Silence settled over the car, save for Noli’s dog tags clinking together whenever the Subaru drove over a bump.
“Oh, shoot,” Constance grumbled a minute later. “Hey, sorry, guys. Can you turn around? I left my notebook at the library. It’s got an outline in it that I can’t have people snooping through.”
Poppy paused a moment, her right eye twitching as she assessed Constance through the mirror. My aunt was undoubtedly using her whim to see if Constance truly had a handle on her emotions. “Sure,” she agreed after a beat.
Within five minutes, we were back at the library. As soon as Poppy hit the brakes, Constance hopped out of the car. She scanned the parking lot before knocking on my window.
I hit the switch to roll it down.
“Why don’t I meet you guys at Lakeside Mulligan’s?” Constance tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I appreciate the offer to chauffeur me, but I think I’ll just head home after we eat instead of coming back here to work.” She had been holed up at the library all week, going through copyedits for her upcoming Misthollow Mystery release.
I raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”
“It’s no trouble to bring you back,” Poppy said as she leaned across the front seat to insert herself into the conversation.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Constance motioned to the parking lot. “I don’t see Marjorie’s car here, so she must have left.” She plastered on a reassuring smile. “And besides, I need to grow up and move on.”
Internally, I was bubbling over with curiosity about what Constance needed to move on from, but I didn’t feel it my place to pry when clearly, our writer friend wasn’t ready to talk about it.
“All right, we’ll grab a table then.” An effortless smile eclipsed Poppy’s pretty face. “See you there!”
As Constance retreated up the path toward the library doors, Poppy put the car in gear, her expression shifting as well. “Curses, what is going on between those two? One minute, they’re giggling like sisters, the next, the mere mention of Marjorie sends Constance’s aura into a storm of anger and betrayal. Yeesh, I was in full-blown panic mode when we came upon them earlier. My whim had me worried that Constance was about to slug Marjorie.”
“I don’t think you’d need a whim to see that,” I pointed out tactfully before rolling up the window to ward off the chill in the upstate New York air. “I mean, if looks could kill…I do wish Constance would confide in us about what’s going on. You’d think she’d know by now that she can trust us.”
Constance was an international best-selling author and a very popular public figure. In the six-plus months we’d known her, we’d yet to spill any of the secrets she’d shared as our friendship had grown. We hadn’t told the world that she loathed the male lead in the Misthollow Mysteries. We hadn’t spread the news online about the real people she’d modeled some of her less-than-flattering characters after. And we certainly hadn’t spilled the beans that she was crushing hard on our cousin, Crucible’s new chief of police, Holden Whitfield.
Poppy gave me a sad smile. “Yeah, but I get why. In her position, it’s hard to ever know who’s a friend and who’s just using you as a stepping stone.” Her smile grew a bit more devious. “And it’s not like we don’t have secrets of our own.”
I laughed. “Touché, Auntie Dearest.”
She stuck out her tongue at the teasing nickname.
Poppy, Holden, and I were the last remaining descendants of the Glenmyre clan, one of Crucible, New York’s five founding families. But being one of the town founders wasn’t what made us special. Our powers, what we Glenmyres called “whims,” did. For reasons I’d yet to understand, our family had been gifted with supernatural abilities, and for over three centuries, the Glenmyres had used these whims to help the people of Crucible. With our whims, do good had long been the family mantra.
Poppy was the living embodiment of the Glenmyre motto; she used her aura-reading skills whenever she could, gauging a person’s mood or feelings to determine if they needed help. Her gift had also come in handy big time during our forays into solving mysteries.
My whim…not so much.
“Maybe once we get some of Nora’s mashed potato casserole in her, Constance will spill the tea,” Poppy suggested as we continued our drive around Lake Glenmyre.
I absently bobbed my chin in agreement, my gaze taking in the less-than-inviting frozen waters. Lake Glenmyre, named after a town founder and our ancestor, Jedidiah, was a sparkling blue, pristine paradise during summer and fall. However, for the past four months, it had been a chunk of ice.
That ice wouldn’t last much longer, though. With springtime temperatures beginning to inch slowly upward, parts of the lake had started to thaw. Despite the rising temps, I still spotted a few ice fishing shacks peppered across the slick top. “Dom and Lamonte better get a move on, or those are going to end up at the bottom of the lake.” I pointed with an ironic smirk to several red-topped shacks boasting the It Floats logo. Dominic Gains and Lamonte Daniels owned the local aquatic sports rental shop, which, in the winter, rented ice fishing equipment to tourists and residents alike.
Ten minutes later, my phone chirped with a notification as Poppy turned into Lakeside Mulligan’s parking area.
“Constance texted our group chat,” I said before reading her message with a growing frown.
Sorry to bail, guys. Not feeling up for an evening out. Just gonna head home & Netflix. I’ll text you later.
Once Poppy had parked the SUV, she read the message for herself. “Hexes. I was hoping we could cheer her up.”
“I know.” I patted my aunt on the arm. With her whim, it was hard for Poppy to see people suffer and not take immediate action. “At least that reality show she loves just dropped some new episodes. Hopefully a cozy night in will do her some good.”
Hindsight being what it was, I wished Poppy and I had tried a little harder to convince Constance to join us for dinner. At least then, our friend would have had an alibi.
