Bernie Sanders and I stood at the end of the dock. Although the air was cool, the sky was cloudless and the sun was out. A perfect autumn day in Vermont. Most of the boats usually docked here were out on the water. A steady stream of out-of-state cars were rolling through town now. Some were driving slower than the speed limit so they could take in the leaves, while others were driving slower looking for parking for the fall festival, Champ Days. Most, presumably, hadn’t heard about the dead man who’d floated to the surface less than sixteen hours ago. “Drowning pancakes in syrup is one thing,” Bernie said. “But a person drowning in syrup? How does that happen?” I was just a congressional intern. Was the senator—my boss—really asking me to chime in on this? Sure, we were in my hometown, but Bernie and I had both read the same autopsy report on Mr. Fletcher, the victim. The medical examiner had laid out the facts, but the facts didn’t give us all the answers. Mr. Fletcher didn’t have anything else in his digestive tract besides maple syrup. No pancakes. No waffles. Not even a spoonful of granola. “You…

(c) Lauren Elliott, Kensington Publishing Corp., 2022.  STEEPED IN SECRETS excerpt shared with permission from the publisher.   “Then see if this is more to your liking.” Julia yanked on the corner edge of the back curtain and revealed an ornate wrought-iron spiral staircase.   “Now that’s what I was waiting to see,” Liam said. “Access to the second floor.”   “Why?” Shay eyed him warily. “Are you hoping it’s filled with the bodies of her customers?”   “Now that would make a good tale to tell tonight in the pub, wouldn’t it?” With a flash of humor in his eyes, he shuffled past her toward the staircase. “Actually, I have a rooftop patio on my second floor, and at night I could hear her singing. When it was a quiet night in the pub, I would just sit for hours, listening to her Irish songs. She had quite the voice, sad but really good.” He stepped up onto the first metal stair. “Always wanted to see what she was working on up here till the wee hours of the morning.”   “What’s that?” Shay pointed to the wall behind Liam.   “What?” Julia looked to the spot Shay had…

From ASTRID PARKER DOESN’T FAIL published by arrangement with Berkley, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC. Copyright © 2022 by Ashley Herring Blake.   Astrid didn’t usually attend demo days. She hated the dust, the chaos, the crew tearing cabinets out of walls and wielding sledgehammers like Neanderthals. But the Everwood Inn wasn’t just any design project, and everything had to be documented for Innside America, including her overseeing parts of the demo—or at least pretending to. Plus, with her reputation already on shaky ground with the lead carpenter, Astrid knew she needed to be involved. Passionate. Maybe peeling off a segment of wallpaper or two might go a long way to repairing things with Jordan. All she had to do was be her usual collected self. Except when she pulled up to the front of the inn and spotted Jordan and Natasha standing on the porch, laughing, Astrid’s nerves quickly rebelled. With the giant dumpster situated in the front yard, coupled with the show’s crew mixing among the demo crew, things were getting real. “You’re here,” Jordan said when Astrid got out of her car and headed toward the porch, her work bag hooked onto her elbow. Astrid made sure…

Excerpt from BEFORE YOUR MEMORY FADES, Copyright © 2022 by Toshikazu Kawaguchi. Reprinted by permission of Hanover Square Press.   Summer is fleeting in Hakodate. Not long after the first leaf or two falls, Mt. Hako­date suddenly comes ablaze with the colors of autumn. During this season, a sloping street called Daisan Re­galia Rise attracts tourists in droves for its beautifully cobblestoned paving, straddled by the exotic autumn leaves of the roadside mountain ash trees, all of which creates the mood of a faraway land. Autumn had also arrived in the large window of Café Donna Donna, which overlooked Hakodate Port and vast blue sky. The red-and-gold foliage spreading across the base of that panorama filtered into the café’s atmosphere, making it feel quite romantic. Maybe that was why, seated at the counter, Nanako Matsubara was thinking, I’m seeing so many couples. Today was Sunday. With double the number of customers than usual, the café was extremely lively. However, as most were tourists, it was an open ques­tion as to how many knew this was a café where you could return to the past. Mixed in with all the couples was a gangling man in his late forties, whose features…

Excerpt from NEVER RESCUE A ROGUE by Virginia Heath. Copyright © 2022 by the author and reprinted by permission of St. Martin’s Publishing Group.   “What about you Diana? Did you miss me too?” I-I…” As she floundered at his unexpected and forthright question, Diana almost—almost—confessed the unpalatable truth. That not only had she missed him, but not a day had gone past that she hadn’t worried about his welfare or recalled his kiss. Fortunately, a sound behind them saved her from herself. She grabbed his sleeve and yanked him behind the topiary then pressed a finger to her lips. “Shhhh!” “We are hiding now because…?” Giles mimicked her covert stance despite being bewildered by it. “Because I just overheard Lady Pamela Beckett and Lieutenant Rory Fitzherbert arrange to meet out here.” Admitting she was working was better than admitting she cared about him. “That is hardly worthy gossip Diana, let alone anything scandalous enough for The Tribune, when everyone knows Rory Fitzherbert has been head over heels in love with that girl for the last year.” “Or so we all thought— but while you were gone, Lady Pamela became engaged to Lord Stifford. They are due to marry tomorrow—on…

Excerpt from Archangel’s Resurrection by Nalini Singh Copyright © 2022   Alexander was already a seasoned member of a junior squadron under Akhia-Solay when he graduated to adulthood at a hundred years of age. Callie, having hit the century milestone before him, was also well established—as an angelic courier for another court. Not Rumaia’s, for Callie was too clever not to see the fetid corrosion of that court. No, she flew under the banner of Archangel Sha-yi, she who was old enough to be termed an Ancient, and who had eyes so deep and wise that even Alexander found himself unsettled around her. “You’re not in a squadron?” he’d asked when Callie first told him of her position. “Every fledgling warrior that joins my sire’s court must first serve a decade as a courier alongside our usual physical training,” she’d explained. “It’s to ensure that we know all flight paths inside out, and have scouted our own emergency landing sites when it comes to the longer flights over water.” Struck by the importance of both pieces of knowledge, Alexander made sure to volunteer as a courier for his court when the call went out. And he didn’t only take from…

SECOND BRIDE DOWN by Ginny Baird Copyright © 2022, Excerpt with Permission from Entangled   Who was the old man with a mustache teetering his way up to their shop? He held a bouquet in one hand and wielded a cane with the other. A slew of raindrops speckled the shoulders of his raincoat and silvery gray hair. “Mr. Mulroney?” Nell asked on a gasp. Matthew Mulroney was as sweet as the day was long, but he was also ancient. He’d run the Majestic B&B with his late wife Eugenia for years before she passed. He still operated it on his own, in deference to her memory, but had cut way back on accepting reservations and was advertising for extra help. “He must be pushing eighty,” Charlotte said. “But isn’t that adorable?” She winced, and Misty knew that she’d caught her red-handed at something. “What did you do?” She advanced on her sister. “Does this have anything to do with that photo you took yesterday?” Charlotte took a giant step backward. “I’m thinking…yes?” “Nell raised a hand. “Let’s consider the positives—” “Positives?” Misty asked aghast. “Like what?” Charlotte tugged on the power crystal that she claimed kept her focused and…

THE MATCHMAKER AND THE COWBOY Copyright © 2022 Robin Bielman, Excerpt with Permission from Entangled   “In the quiet of the bunkhouse, he heard her sigh. He didn’t give false compliments and always meant everything he said. God, he wished she were close enough to touch. To run his fingers through her hair. To press his lips to hers and learn how she liked to be kissed. Stop going there, Hunter. “What’s your least favorite food?” she asked, roping them back into superficial territory. “Don’t have one. I pretty much like everything. If it’s put in front of me, I’ll eat it. Yours?” “Peppers. I don’t even like them on my plate.” “Peppers everywhere are mourning the plea­sure of your mouth.” Jesus, did he just say that? Apparently, he still bumbled his words around her. “Do you want to go back to Africa some day?” he rushed to ask, the question the first thing to pop into his head. “Or someplace else?” “If given the opportunity, I’d love to. I know Maverick loves to travel; do you?” she asked. “It’s not in my blood like it is in his, but seeing other parts of the world would be great. Especially with…

MURDER AT THE MAJESTIC HOTEL Copyright © 2022 Clare McKenna, Excerpt with Permission from Kensington   Stella rested her cheek against the pillow as Lyndy traced the length of her neck with hot, gentle kisses. She shifted to capture his lips with her own, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him to her. She couldn’t get close enough. “Bugger off the pair of ya!” A door slammed, and someone began pounding on it from outside in the hall. The hostility jolted Stella upright. Flashes of her father’s temper flooded her with emotions she hadn’t had to face in days—grief, guilt, fear. But Lyndy’s warmth as he wrapped his arm around her bare shoulders, pulling her protectively to him, eased it all away. “Horace, please,” a woman’s voice pleaded. “We need to speak with you.” “Confound it, Uncle, what’s going on?” a man’s voice demanded. The pounding continued. “Bloody hell,” Lyndy whispered as he flung the bedclothes off. For a moment, the sight of his skin, the well-formed muscles in his back glistening with sweat in the glow of the fire, made her forget there was an altercation taking place a few feet from their door. Then curiosity overcame…

P 18–21 The Favor Copyright © 2022 by Nicci French.   “Anyway, congratulations,” said Liam, holding up his coffee cup. “What about?” “About your upcoming marriage.” “How do you know about that?” “Someone told me. When I was tracking you down.” Jude laughed. “Tracking me down? What are you, a private detective?” “Just an old friend.” He sipped his coffee. “A doctor, like you always said you’d be. You did it.” Jude’s throat felt tight. She had thought she would never see Liam again, and yet over the years she had imagined meeting him: by chance, on a bus, on a street, in a crowd of people, walking in the Clee Hills by her parents’ house in Shropshire. Because there were things that she needed to say, had needed to say for over a decade, although now the moment had actually come she didn’t know how to start saying them. “I should be the one tracking you down,” she said, haltingly. “I know that you . . .” She stopped. “I’ve never forgotten.” He frowned, as if he was considering this. When he spoke, he didn’t seem angry or even sad. Just reflective, as if he were talking about someone…