enjoys a great read

When a prominent doctor and outspoken advocate for child abuse victims is murdered, trauma counselor and amateur sleuth Stacie Maroni can’t help but wonder if there’s more to the tragedy than meets the eye. At the same time, whispers of financial misappropriation in programs meant to aid victims have surfaced. Both the good doctor and the suspect agencies shared interest in child welfare - could the two be connected, or is it just a coincidence?

I know what I’m hiding. But the guy I left in bed after a steamy one-night stand…I haven’t a clue what’s going on behind those Clark Kent glasses of his. I’ve met his goofy dog Gomer, his social media-obsessed grandmother, and his sheep that lives in a palace. I know he wears a three-piece suit and a flannel shirt equally well–not to mention what he looks like underneath. I know he abruptly quit his job at that evil conglomerate.

Forget the summer I turned pretty…that was the summer I got hips, acne, and utterly humiliated by Aaron Richmond. This summer? This is the summer I had to marry the bastard. When I walk down the aisle towards my enemy, all to save the Coleman family fortune, I shouldn’t give in to my wounded inner 14-year old-self. I should smile, blink up at him prettily, and declare to have and to hate…Err...hold.

Known for his immense wealth and his impact on private healthcare services, Carson J. Keltce’s murder had ripple effects from the small town of Blanton to Baltimore and beyond. Izzie Di Sante, a restaurant owner with a passion for investigative reporting, is pulled into the investigation when her best friend calls sobbing. Nicole was living with CJ and the police have her pegged as a person of interest. The police question Nicole's involvement, given the strained relationships CJ had with his family and the secrecy surrounding his personal life.

She invented Mr. Right…just in time for the holidays. Every tangled web starts with one tiny white lie. The kind you spin when you’re desperate. One day I, Mia D’Angelo, third-year pediatric resident, was telling my mom that I’d finally met the perfect guy. Gushing about how amazing he was. And how happy I was. It was all true. Until my "perfect guy," Dr. Braxton Hughes, turned out to be my co-worker and my only competitor for a spot in the best practice in town…and then suddenly I was dumped…again. But I kept going with the stories, to get her through a very tough time.

When you kiss your perfect boyfriend under the mistletoe...only for your cousin scream to the family that you stole her man, you realize that you will never again have a merry Christmas. In my defense, I didn’t know my boss—yup, boss. Buckle up because this is messy—was my cousin’s newly minted and totally lying fiancé. I thought he was the Nutcracker Prince come to finally show my family that I, too, was worthy of putting the star atop the Christmas tree.

Six strapping warriors are determined to lay down the law. The women who claim them as mates might think they have the upper hand, but they’re about to discover what it means to be loved by a Viking.

Ex-celebrity and current (assistant) private investigator Maizie Albright finds her already strange life has become even odder. Her new partner is two hundred pounds and canine. And her ex-partner/still-boyfriend is on the wrong side of her infidelity case. Not that Wyatt Nash is cheating. At least not on Maizie. She thinks Nash is cheating on his boss. Her dad. Which sounds much worse than it is. Except it is (maybe) worse than it sounds. It's Spy vs. Spy or rather, Detective vs. Detective, when Maizie and Nash realize they're both tailing the same subject for very different reasons.

When the townspeople of Harrogate almost riot over the Christmas décor thievery committed by the chair of the Elf on the Shelf Committee, I know I’m not going to survive the holiday season unless drastic action is taken. Biddy Jefferson turning up dead in my Christmas market stall is not exactly the type of drastic measure I had in mind. With no alibi and a town obsessed with pinning the murder on me, I have to clear my name. This is on top of planning the upcoming holiday ball, dealing with quirky stall owners in the Christmas market, and corralling confused tourists.

Armed with comfy pants, overpriced coffee, and a highly anxious emotional-support corgi, I prepare to face him. Corporate boss. Villain. Salinger Svensson. I step into his office. His perfect mouth twists into a sneer. There is no heart of gold beneath that suit, just a big black pit. He’s a shark in the frothy waters of high-stakes finance. He might be the archetypal-asshole CEO, causing all in his path to quake in fear, but he’s never had to face down a basic bitch in her thirties.