1 I should be stealing something shiny… But instead of doing what she loved, Celeste St. Pierre was busy running an antique furniture store in Manhattan. She glanced from the eighteenth century Austrian grandfather clock to her assistant, Beatrice Hill, trying to catch the young woman’s eye. They were hoping to close in the next five minutes, but two shoppers still perused the Chippendale bookshelves. From what Celeste gathered, a husband and wife. He looked deeply uninterested in the shopping trip while she went on and on about the decorative wood carvings. Both appeared wealthy enough to afford several Chippendale pieces, so Celeste didn’t want to shove them out the door too quickly. “Well, if you like it so much, just go for it,” the husband said, testily. His white mustache gave an agitated twitch as he surveyed the rest of the store. He, too, checked the time. His wife could not be rushed into a decision. She pulled a pair of reading glasses from her black Chanel bag and peered at the shelves’ description. “I just wonder if it will fit the upstairs study…” Celeste had to intervene. If she couldn’t get these customers moving, she and Beatrice…
Excerpted from THE BEST LIES by David Ellis 1 Leo I hear them coming up the back stairs, the fire escape off the alley. Their footfalls are harsh, trudging, deliberate. So they’re not coming to kill me. That’s the good news. The bad news is they’re coming to arrest me. You should reconsider your life choices when those are the only two possibilities. Cops. Local or federal? I’m not sure which I should fear more. I’ll know soon. I pull out my phone and dial my law partner, Montgomery Morris. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says. “You busy?” “On my way to the Bulls game. Why?” “I’m gonna need a lawyer, Monty.” “You— what? Why?” “It’s a long story. They’re about to take me into custody.” “Well . . . when?” “In about eleven seconds,” I say. “Eleven sec— the Bulls are playing Giannis tonight. Is it serious?” “Umm . . . probably. It depends on which crime they charge.” “There’s more than one to choose from?” “Depends on whether it’s FBI or local cops.” “You don’t even know that much? What did you do now, Leo?” The fire escape from the second story to the third, where I…
Excerpt from The Rose Arbor by Rhys Bowen They came to a place where a tree had fallen across the path and had to work their way around it. On the other side they stepped out into what had been a street. The road surface had been paved but was now cracked with weeds and even saplings sprouting through it. On one side stood a row of what once had been grey stone cottages, although now they were roofless, and all that was left were crumbling walls, open to the sky. Here and there they were covered in ivy and red Virginia creeper, making them look almost part of the natural landscape and the hillside that rose behind them. A tree had grown up through the middle of what had once been rooms. On the other side of the street were the remains of a couple of bigger buildings, one still standing two stories high, although there were gaping holes where windows had been. At the far end of the street, the land rose, forming a V-shaped valley with a glimpse of blue sea beyond. It would have been an inviting location for the people who once lived there,…
PROLOGUE November 1942 There is a moment somewhere between the first warning siren and the first falling bomb when the earth turns silent and stops. The air tightens. The ground braces. The sky holds its breath. Only the planes keep moving. What happens next is anyone’s guess. Perhaps the bomb doors will open, perhaps death will rain down. Perhaps the planes will roar on over Berlin and away. Whatever the outcome, the initial response is the same. Bodies freeze. Brains go blank. Buildings shift on their foundations and become fragile. People look up, shrink away, crouch down. No one speaks. Words won’t help, words won’t change anything. As the sky darkens and drones, the only thing certain is fear. Fear of being caught out in the open as the heavens crack apart. Of being caught deep in a cellar when the lights fail and the oxygen runs out and the water starts rising. Of the streets overhead collapsing back into their bricks and the cellar becoming a tomb. Fear of being caught in the wrong place. On a cold clear night in November 1942 – as wave after wave of British Lancaster bombers thicken the skies to a shroud…
Excerpt of PLEASE LET ME DESTROY YOU by Rupert Taylor One afternoon I was sitting at the bar swirling ice in my glass, when I saw a long fake eyelash lying in the grit on the tiled floor. I picked it up, and when I stood up, a young woman pointed a DSLR camera at my face. She wore white sneakers, cut-off denim shorts, and a Hawaiian shirt with lobsters printed on it. A solid outfit. 10/10. I had seen her in the bar before, but she never asked me to play pool, or to go upstairs. Most days she sat alone at the bar, sipping orange juice and watching what looked to be YouTube tutorials on her phone. Click. Click click click. She shot me holding the eyelash in front of my right eye. “Hang!” yelled Blossom, pointing her nail file like a sword. “No photos down here! I told you!” Hang took her camera up the stairs. I hung back for a second, then trotted up after her. Smile Bar was situated in a tall narrow building, with a wooden staircase zig-zagging up the middle. On the first floor landing, a young woman lay sleeping, her…
INTO THE STARLIGHT by Amanda Cabot “Have you thought about what you’d like to do today?” Emily asked as she passed the plate of toast to Della. As had been customary when their parents were alive, Saturday breakfast consisted of nothing more than scrambled eggs and toast. Father had claimed that a meatless meal helped him think more clearly and resulted in better sermons. There were no sermons to be written today, but no one seemed to mind the simple fare. Josh and Craig piled eggs on their plates, and Noah grinned when his toast crunched. Both Burke and Della appeared more rested than they had yesterday, but the pain Joanna had seen in Burke’s eyes had not lessened. Though he smiled as he accepted the bowl of peach jam, the smile did not reach his eyes, making her wonder whether he’d slept as restlessly as she had. Della nodded as she spread jam on a piece of toast. “I want to visit Clive’s grave.” “His grave?” Joanna blinked in surprise. “I don’t understand. He’s not buried here.” When Burke looked as startled by her response as she’d been by Della’s request, Joanna continued. “My father believed Clive was killed…
Excerpt of THE ART OF PRETEND It was in the kitchen area that I noticed Archer, approximately twenty minutes after I lost Etta, not that I was keeping track. Archer was Etta’s older brother and a semi-established artist for someone who just barely scratched the surface of his thirties. There were his shows here in the city, plus Miami and Los Angeles and abroad. At one point it felt as if everywhere you turned, there was his photograph, or some article either praising or eviscerating his work, and then, nothing. Two years passed. He’d supposedly been living out in the country, followed by a friend’s houseboat. Etta said he was “burnt-out,” that it happened all the time with artists, this endless cycle of creation and expectation, feeding the public’s appetite for something new, something exciting, something that had never been done before. But it had all been done before, that was the problem. “Sounds intense,” I had said, but she did not comment further. Archer was still tall and thin, like Etta, with an angular face and pale green eyes that matched his sister’s. The last time I’d seen him, his hair was long and he could tuck it…
Six Brews Under– Exclusive Excerpt After a few glasses of champagne—for me, not for Joe, because vampire—we took a short stroll on the beach before freshening up for dinner. Upon Stella’s annoying insistence, I wore a body-hugging silk dress in an emerald green and pinned my hair halfway up with a few vintage diamond barrettes I stole from Gran’s jewelry box. Slipping into leather sandals, I carefully made my way down the extremely steep stairs that led from the upstairs bedroom to the main living area. My fingers white-knuckled the railing the whole way down. What monster designed these? “That is quite the dress,” Joe said from the bottom of the torture staircase. My cheeks burned with the temperature of the Earth’s core. “Thanks. Stella picked it out.” I instantly regretted mentioning the ghost because she appeared out of nowhere with a satisfied look on her cocky face. Stella’s abrupt manifestation made me miss the last step. I yelped, sliding down awkwardly and smashing headfirst into Joe’s chest. Grumbling, I straightened out and brushed back my loose curls. “Oops,” I mumbled. Lucky for me, Joe was used to my clumsy ways and only grinned before offering his arm for…
Chapter Five Travis navigates his truck down the narrow lane, away from Shadow Bluff. The truck is spotless. A Ford F-250 with a leather interior and a dashboard that looks like the inside of a cockpit. A siren rests on the top of the dash. “Nice truck,” I say. “Thanks. Took me forever to save up for it.” “No patrol car?” He laughs, and there goes the dimple again. “Hell, no. Even the chief doesn’t have a patrol car. No damn money. We’re lucky we even have a police department. Lots of small towns have lost theirs. It’s just me, the chief, and two other officers in a run-down rented building north of Bridge Street. Oh, and we do have Margie, who works the front, but she volunteers because she’s married to the chief.” He side-eyes me and winks. “A real coup.” He glances at me again. “You know, Nan’s is pretty casual.” I look down at the suit pants and navy-and-white-striped blouse. Silk, like the one I ruined on Fort Worth Live. “Unfortunately, this is my casual.” “Suit yourself.” He slides his gaze at me with a smile. “No pun intended.” I roll my eyes. It’s strange, being…
Murder in Mayfair by Verity Bright Excerpt ‘We have to land!’ Eleanor cried, pointing over the basket’s side to emphasize the urgency. The pilot wrenched his attention away from the other passengers who were still shouting stridently. ‘Listen, lady. Don’t you go hysterical on me too!’ ‘But you don’t understand,’ she cried more forcefully, spinning back around to track the movements of the gunman. ‘Oh, no! We’ve drifted too far already!’ She hauled the thick drag rope aside to scour the ground below better. ‘You must land. Now!’ The pilot shook his head. ‘No can do. There’s a problem with the burner, so just calm down!’ ‘Calm down?’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘A man has just been shot! He must need urgent medical attention.’ Assuming he’s still alive, Ellie. Or the gunman doesn’t finish him off. The pilot wasn’t listening, as the other passengers had crowded around him again, the men shouting about the burner, the woman shrieking. Her brow knitted. None of them had reacted when the man fell, so they couldn’t have seen what she had. And the noise of the gun firing must have been masked by the sound of the burners for those in…