Spotlight: The Two Birds by Hal Glatzer

Teddie (nicknamed “Ducky”) and Herman (“Drakey”) are friends with benefits, but they aren’t spending much time, lately, billing and cooing. Teddie has been cast as Lady Macbeth in the local community theater troupe; and she and her husband George have to practice to stay competitive in their tennis club. Herman has been drawn into pursuing a decades-old cold case; but his wife Sylvia needs his help fighting off a challenge to her professional life.

The spouses, who long ago gave up sex, are willing to tolerate the arrangement, as long as it doesn’t become public knowledge. But that’s a big risk, since Ducky and Drakey have flown into mysteries before [see below], uncovering murder and mayhem in Grand Lake City. Fortunately, police homicide detective Sarah Larson has, by the summer of 2019, come to accept their help and to help them in return.

The cold case revolves around an urban legend that somewhere in the city there is a warehouse of vintage motorcycles that were stolen from the factory—still in their shipping crates—back in 1948. Felix Long, an aspiring writer, brings this story to Herman, who is a retired magazine editor, hoping that, together, they can write a book about it. That would mean locating the con man Don Reynolds who, in 1986, claimed to have found those stolen bikes. He sold them, then ran off with the money, never having produced any bike but the one he drove around town.

Sylvia’s need for Herman’s help is more pressing. She chairs the local college’s School of Forestry and runs its research lab about 100 miles away in the mountains. The owners of the acreage just uphill from the lab are a 93-year-old man named Homer Gilley and a corporation called Harvest Gold, LLC. They are asking the state’s Department of Land Management to issue a logging permit. At a public hearing, Gilley says he wants to sell the timber to give a nest-egg to his daughter Agnes, who’s in her 70s. But logging would wreak havoc on the forest land around the lab.

To prioritize Sylvia’s dilemma, Herman sidelines Felix by introducing him to Irwin Duteriane, who has a local true-crime podcast; and to Shirley McKenzie, who writes a local true-crime blog. Each of them promises to help Felix, but after a week Irwin disappears; and two weeks later Shirley disappears too. So Herman feels he has to pick up the ball again.

Teddie is being whipsawed between the theater troupe’s more experienced leading ladies: Susie Warriner and Margo Boyd. Both are trying hard to be Teddie’s new best friend, even though each of them wanted—expected—to play Lady Macbeth herself, until Teddie came along. And her shoulder is giving her trouble, so she might not be able to compete in the tennis club’s upcoming tournament.

What seem like separate threads, however, are actually woven into a tapestry of deception, poison and murder. If Ducky and Drakey try to unravel it, they could zero out their benefits and—if they don’t watch their backs—wind up dead.

The Two Birds is the third mystery in the Friends With Benefits series, which includes The Nest and The Office Wife.

The Nest is a breezy present-day cozy mystery introducing Herman and Teddie: witty, affectionate sixty-somethings who are friends with benefits. When the landlord of their trysting apartment is found dead under their balcony, the police suspect them of his murder. So they set out to prove their innocence, in the process uncovering a trail of suspects, shady neighbors, and a corporate cover-up. Their sleuthing leads to dangerous discoveries, forcing them to risk exposure of their own secret affair while convincing a skeptical Detective Larson of the real truth.

In The Office Wife, Teddie’s husband George is arrested and charged with killing his closest colleague at work. Determined to clear his name, Teddie and Herman offer to help Detective Larson find the real killer. But George has issues with that. (If you were in trouble, would you accept help from your spouse’s lover?) Racing against time, they’re up against a tangled skein of suspects, including the victim’s co-workers and former lovers. To uncover the truth, Teddie and Herman are forced to bend the rules and put their affair on the line.

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About the Author

Although the Friends with Benefits series takes place in the modern age, much of Hal Glatzer’s mystery fiction has been set in the past. His Katy Green novels—Too Dead to Swing, A Fugue in Hell’s Kitchen, and The Last Full Measure—are set in musical milieux in the years just before World War II. And his illustrated bildungsroman, Dead In His Tracks, chronicles the rise and fall of a family-owned streetcar line. 

In the 1970s, Glatzer worked as a reporter and bureau chief for newspapers and TV news stations; but in 1978 he began to cover the emerging high-tech industries of Silicon Valley. He contributed to and/or edited several “computer magazines” for general readers, and had three non-fiction books published about computers and telecommunications.

He debuted as a mystery novelist in 1986 with The Trapdoor, about a hacker who gets in trouble with organized crime. He is a longtime member of Sisters In Crime; and of Mystery Writers of America, currently serving as vice-president of MWA’s New York chapter.

Glatzer also writes Sherlock Holmes pastiches, set authentically in the Victorian and Edwardian era, which have been published in U.K. and U.S. anthologies, and reprinted in his own anthology: The Sign of Five. He is active in several “scion societies.” And every year, he produces a Sherlock Holmes play in New York, performed in old-time-radio style.

When he is not working as an author, he’s working as a musician, playing guitar and singing the “Great American Songbook” from Tin Pan Alley and Broadway.

There is more on his website: www.halglatzer.com

To contact him, please email info@halglatzer.com

Spotlight: The Flirting Game by Lauren Blakely

Revenge was the plan. Falling for the hockey star next door wasn’t.

My new neighbor is a hot, grumpy hockey player who works out shirtless on his porch every morning. But it’s not technically spying if I just happen to be on my patio at the same time … right?

Imagine my surprise when the sexy grouch turns out to be the client who just hired me to redecorate the house he’s giving his mom.

What’s a ray of sunshine like me to do? Pretend I’ve never noticed his abs while we pick out furniture—since I’d never date a client. And Ford’s made it clear this is his final season, and he wants zero distractions.

Which means I need to exercise some serious resistance …

To his cool blue eyes that track my every move.
To that deep voice that makes me shiver.
And to the mouth that shuts me up one night in our shared backyard with a scorching kiss.

We agree it’s a one-time slip-up—until my cheating ex invites me to a party, and Ford insists on being my revenge date. Our fake night out turns into a very real sleepover.

Now the press and fans think we’re a couple, so we keep it up. One fake date at a charity gala turns into another at a hockey game, and somewhere between fabric swatches and porch picnics, I stop pretending.

But how do I convince Ford that with me, he can have both love and hockey?

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About the Author

A #1 New York Times Bestselling, #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling, and #1 Audible Bestselling author, Lauren Blakely is known for her contemporary romance style that’s sexy, feel-good and witty. Her books have been featured in US Weekly and People. Lauren likes dogs, cake and show tunes and she is the vegetarian at your dinner party. 

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Spotlight: Puck Me It’s Christmas! by Alina Jacobs

(Maplewood Falls, #2)

Publication date: November 18th 2025

Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Holiday, Romance

When you’re a blacklisted preschool teacher and somehow end up coaching the worst team in the NHL, it’s shaping up to be the crappiest Christmas ever.

We’re adding an NHL head-coaching job to the Yule log dumpster fire of my holiday season.
I lost my apartment and had to move back home for the holidays.
My mom sneaks into my bedroom to watch me sleep because she “can’t help it. I missed my little girl so much, Ellie!”
And my day-drinking granny has declared herself the team’s new equipment manager so she can ogle hockey butts in the locker room.
The last thing I need is twenty-two adult toddlers with blades on their feet and bad attitudes for Christmas.

Captain Fletcher Sullivan? He’s the worst, with his muscles and his sneer, turning every practice into The Grinch on Ice.
Between breaking up fights, hosting snack time, and bailing my goalie out of jail, I have no time for Christmas cheer—or for the cocky, absurdly ripped team captain who thinks I don’t belong in the NHL.

Yes, I played on the women’s national hockey team.
Yes, I lift weights.
And yes, I will pick up a six-four hockey player and put him in time-out if he doesn’t follow directions.
There’s no Christmas miracle coming to save us. We lose. A lot.

But armed with Goldfish crackers and juice boxes, I’m going to turn this team of ragtag hockey players into winners.
Even if it turns me into the Grinch.
Or worse—makes me fall for the enemy.

Excerpt

There’s a loud buzzing noise, then a metal gate opens, and two heavyset police officers are dragging out a barefoot, shirtless man covered in tattoos—yes, on his face, too—and missing a few teeth. “And I’ll take a piss on your mother’s grave as soon as I get out of these handcuffs!” he hollers.

The cop unlocks the cuffs. Ellie’s eye is twitching.

“Uh, the ankle bracelet…” Ellie points to the chunky bracelet. “We won’t be able to get his hockey boots on, let alone any of the goalie pads.”

“Where are my flip-flops?” Ren demands. “I have a constitutional right to have my things returned to me.”

“Not me.” The officer shakes his head. “You gotta talk to his parole officer.”

“Great. Well, we’ll talk to the equipment manager.” Ellie sighs.

“Your grandmother, who I’m pretty sure I saw doing shots with Murphy’s Law—that equipment manager?”

“It’s a team effort,” Ellie tells me through a gritted smile. “We’re all trying to make sure that we win.”

“Well, goddamn,” the goalie drawls in a thick Southern accent and looks Ellie up and down. “The rumors are true. I heard the guard gossipin’, but I ain’t believe a word I heard.”

“Watch your mouth,” I snarl at him.

“The boyfriend?” He raises one eyebrow, causing the tattoos crawling all over his forehead to wrinkle.

“Alternate captain.”

“Damn Yankee.” He spits on the ground. “And a shitty hockey player too.”

Fuck this guy.

“Guess this weather is a little different from Mississippi,” Ellie says as Ren makes a big show of getting the door for her and letting it slam in my face.

“Aw, shucks, ma’am, my birth daddy’s actually a damn Yankee. Piece of shit from upstate NYC.” Ren walks barefoot through the snow next to Ellie. “He played for Boston back in the day. That’s the only reason I took this goalie job. Free plane ticket up to New England, all so’s I can take a shit on his front lawn. Got arrested for public indecency, public intoxication—oh, and I stole a police car.”

Ellie giggles. Why the hell do women find men like him charming?

“Back seat, Yankee Doodle,” he barks at me when I reach for the door.

“Fuck you.” I shove him away from the front passenger door.

He shoves me back. Harder. “I’m important. You’re just some shithead call-up from the minors.”

“Fletcher, get in the back seat, please.” Ellie gives me a stern look.

I hate that goalie.

Ellie beams at Ren as I crawl in the back of the SUV. “We brought you a snack!”

“Thanks, darlin’.”

“The hell—don’t talk to our coach like that.”

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About the Author

I write the kind of books I love—romantic comedies featuring snarly guys with hearts of gold, kick-ass heroines, and a swoon-worthy happily ever after! Also wine. And cupcakes.

When I’m not writing I can be found drinking tea, surrounded by my massive to-be-read pile! So many books...

You can connect with me on social media or find information on my books at my website.

Sign up for my newsletter so that you can get information about new releases, giveaways, and more!

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Spotlight: The World at Home by Ginny Kubitz Moyer

Set in booming San Francisco during WWII, THE WORLD AT HOME tells the story of Irene Mary Cleary, raised in a Catholic orphanage and trained by an elderly Russian seamstress. Sewing and designing clothes is a passion for Irene, who inherits the shop and springboards into a career that captures the eyes of the Nob Hill elite. She even creates some of the costumes for the first ever U.S. production of The Nutcracker. 

But for a young woman raised by nuns, it’s a jolt to enter the world of business, war, and classism. The fun of dancing with servicemen at the USO and the thrill of budding romance are tempered by the unsavory intrigues of clients, startling personal revelations, and the displacement of her Japanese-American friends. In this engrossing story, told in prose as carefully crafted as one of Irene’s designs, and full of the heart and hope that is the signature of a Ginny Kubitz Moyer novel, Irene will find a talent that goes beyond her skill with the needle: the ability to navigate a perilous world with style, steel, and grace.   

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About the Author

GINNY KUBITZ MOYER is a California native with a love of local history. A graduate of Pomona College and Stanford University, she’s the author of the novel THE SEEING GARDEN, which won Silver in the Foreword INDIES Book of the Year Award in Historical Fiction; the novel A GOLDEN LIFE, a Kirkus Reviews Best Indie Book of 2024; and several works of spiritual nonfiction. She lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband, two sons, and one rescue dog. Learn more at ginnymoyer.org

Spotlight: Rose Dhu by Mark Murphy

A highly regarded surgeon has gone missing. Will the search for her whereabouts tear a community apart?

Dr. Janie O’Connor’s disappearance from her Savannah estate, Rose Dhu, has shocked the town to its core. Her former fiancé, Phillip Carruthers—once the most eligible bachelor in coastal Georgia and the playboy son of Savannah’s most powerful billionaire family—is the prime suspect.

Phillip maintains his innocence and seems to have an airtight alibi, and the case has local police stumped. But Detective Frank Winger, who has his own personal connection to Janie’s family, is determined to discover what happened . . . as long as false witnesses, evidence tampering, and ghosts from his past don’t get in the way.

When back-door dealings and long-forgotten enemies reveal themselves, will Frank be able to distinguish fact from fiction to figure out what happened to Janie? Or will her whereabouts stay shrouded in the shadows of Savannah’s live oaks?

Excerpt

“Pick up the kid and follow me,” Carmine barked.

“What are we doing with him?” John asked.

“We’re disposing of the evidence,” Carmine said.

They walked over to the wooden platform. It had been constructed off the levee, and the ground sloped away sharply from the shoreline, making the water beneath the platform quite a bit deeper than John had initially surmised. The pond’s surface was dotted with lily pads, and its dark waters were choked with algae. John couldn’t even see through the tannin-stained water to the bottom. For all he knew, the pond was bottomless.

A dense fog over the pond’s surface obscured the opposite shoreline, but John heard a heavy splash in the distance.

A couple of green slider turtles, perched on a nearby log, suddenly dropped into the water next to the platform—plop! plop!—but John sensed that there was something else out there. He could feel it in his bones.

The dark water below the platform eddied lazily around the pilings. For an instant, John thought he saw something dark moving in the swirling current, something massive and ominous.

Could it be?

“Throw the kid’s body in,” Carmine said.

John did as he was told. When the boy hit the water, the sheet wrapped around him spread like a pair of gossamer wings. And then he rolled over, his mouth open but his dead eyes wide and unseeing, before he began to sink beneath the water.

Suddenly, the sinking stopped.

The boy’s body lurched suddenly upward out of the water as if shot out of some unseen cannon. His arms flailed limply upward, as if pulled by a crazed puppet master, before flopping back to his sides. It was only as the boy’s body toppled back into the water that John saw the shadowy bulk looming below.

Burt, John thought. The damned thing is real.

He’d heard stories of this creature, but it was the first time he’d ever glimpsed it with his own eyes.

Burt was a sixteen-foot-long bull gator with a taste for human flesh. Rumors of the monster’s existence had percolated among those involved with the shadier nether regions of the Carruthers organization for years. John had heard that the creature lurked in one of the murky ponds somewhere near the shorebird rookery. Phillip, who had first discovered it, had reportedly nicknamed the animal after the quintessential Southern boy, Burt Reynolds.

For Carruthers Enterprises employees, this was their Loch Ness Monster. “We’ll take you to see Burt” was the ultimate threat for anyone who dared betray the company.

The gigantic gator had clamped its huge jaws around the boy’s torso. Its obsidian tail slashed back and forth, churning the water into a yellowish froth. One of the gator’s eyes was sealed permanently shut, and a pale, jagged scar tore across it. The other eye gleamed a dull topaz, its cruel light glimmering like a dim beacon lighting the way into the depths of hell.

“Good God,” John murmured.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Erika said, a thin-lipped smile on her face.

Carmine picked up the dead woman’s limp body like a sack of potatoes, walked back over to the platform, and tossed her remains into the pond. An awful thrashing sound followed, the intermittent slap of leather against wood and the occasional grunt punctuating the air as the gator feasted yet again.

John didn’t look. Hell, he couldn’t look.

He’d seen enough of Burt to last a lifetime. 

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About the Author

Mark Murphy is a native of Savannah, Georgia. He’s worked as a fast-food worker, marine biologist, orderly, ordained minister, and renowned gastroenterologist, his current “day job.” When he’s not healing the sick, he writes anything he can—newspaper columns, short stories, magazine articles, and textbook chapters. Rose Dhu is his third novel.

Spotlight: First Descent by Mike Pace

The atmosphere in First Descent by Mike Pace carries a blend of Arctic stillness and rising tension, the sense that something buried in ice is beginning to stir. As the story stretches between ancient winter magic and modern corporate stakes, the pieces start clicking together in a way that suggests the past has been waiting for its moment to return.

Virgil Landowski’s disappearance on a perilous Arctic expedition left behind little more than an odd geode and a son determined to move on. Nick Landowski has carved out a practical life as a mine foreman, far removed from his father’s fabled search for a cave of red diamonds. But when an accident fractures the geode and reveals a hidden key, he finds himself drawn into an unraveling legacy that spans centuries. Nick’s pursuit uncovers a dangerous convergence between the world he knows—where a ruthless corporate faction hunts the Coca-Cola formula—and an ancient domain shaped by powerful winter magic and unpredictable time. As adversaries from both realms close in, he learns that the key’s true significance reaches far beyond treasure or corporate leverage. It holds the potential to destabilize the force that has long defined the holiday season. To protect what his father died to uncover, Nick must follow a mythic trail into the heart of winter’s oldest secrets.

Excerpt

Seventy minutes later, his lungs about to burst, Virgil clawed his way to the top of a rocky ridge and found himself standing on the edge of a clearing. The impossible sun had long since disappeared. No moon or stars; the sky hovered tight overhead like a suffocating black blanket. He glanced again at his watch. Deadline approaching fast. He needed to reach the center of the clearing quickly.   

Expecting the level terrain to ease his journey, he set out. Almost immediately he sank thigh-deep into the powdery snow and struggled to move. Before departing from Nevada he’d considered bringing snowshoes, but his boots had been too bulky to fit into the bindings. Again, the trade-off had been warmth over nimbleness, and he’d chosen warmth. In retrospect, given that his lack of cleats had almost cost him his life and now without snowshoes the whole purpose of his mission could dissolve because he would be delayed crossing the clearing, a big mistake.

He’d had some experience traveling across rugged terrain in Siberia for the company, but that had been a well-provisioned expedition. Here, he’d had to depart quickly with no time for planning or training in order to reach his destination on the precise date and at the exact time. And, according to the rules, he had to complete his journey alone. Rules? Set by whom? The guide who’d somehow convinced me he was much more than a guide? Too late for second thoughts. Too late to turn back. Either the guide’s fantastic story was true, or in a matter of minutes Professor Virgil Landowski, who was supposed to be one of the smartest geologists in the world, was going to die a complete fool.

He felt the snow harden. If he didn’t move he’d be locked inside an icy tomb. So close now, he couldn’t give up. Drawing on a last reserve of energy he didn’t know he possessed, he bent over and plowed ahead, wading through what now felt like thigh-high wet cement. 

Finally, he stumbled to the center of the plain and stopped, gasping, his lungs screaming for oxygen. 23:59I made it with a minute to spare! He slowly turned full circle.

Nothing. 

The GPS coordinates were spot on. The timing was perfect . . .

Where is it?

Like a blindfold had been removed, his stupidity, his foolishness, his bull-headed pride were revealed to him. All that time, all that energy, wasted. His crowning achievement, the gift he’d wanted desperately for his son—for the world—was all a cruel hoax. The weight of disappointment crushed his body. His shoulders sagged. He staggered and swayed like a drunk trying to remain upright, fighting the wind’s attempt to tumble him into a white grave. 

How could I have believed him? I was such a—

The wind stopped. 

Completely. 

Like someone had flicked a switch. 

He gazed up to see stars now sparkling through the black like millions of pinpricks. The Aurora Borealis appeared and draped the entire sky with a curtain of brilliant cherry-red light.

A deep noise. The wind? No, something different. A moment later the sound increased to a guttural rumble. The ground vibrated, then trembled. Then shook violently. The rumble increased to a deep roar. 

At the far end of the clearing the earth cracked open, and the jagged gouge rushed toward him through the deep snow as if some unseen hand pulled open an invisible crooked zipper. He turned to run, but more cracks in the field targeted him from all directions.

He attempted to zig-zag through the thick snow with little success, hoping to dodge the fissures, and bounced hard against huge chunks of ice ten feet high now suddenly shooting up from the surface all around him. The rising slabs moved, encircling him, closing in like converging soldiers. He tried to break through the tightening circle, but the slabs ricocheted his body back and forth like a pinball. Tighter and tighter. Herding him to a single spot. 

He fought to keep his balance, but the violent shaking knocked him to his knees.  

Before he could climb to his feet a giant crevasse split open beneath him, widening like hungry jaws. He dropped instantly—

“AAHHHH!”

Then, silence. 

The earth had swallowed him whole.

The shaking stopped. The red glow faded. The storm returned. The wind swept away his footprints.

It was as if Virgil Landowski had never been there. 

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About the Author

Thriller author Mike Pace has spent his entire life weaving stories across an extraordinary range of experiences. One of his earliest creative memories is helping write his fourth-grade Christmas play in Pittsburgh, a spark that carried him to the University of Illinois on an art scholarship, where he earned a BFA. He later taught elementary school in Washington, D.C.’s inner city, filling his classroom with imagination games and daily storytelling as “Mr. Paste.” While teaching by day, he attended Georgetown Law at night and went on to serve on the editorial board of the Georgetown Law Journal, clerk for a federal judge, and prosecute major felony cases—including murder—as an Assistant United States Attorney for the District of Columbia. After serving as general counsel for a national environmental services company, Mike shifted his focus to his first love: creative writing. He has written for stage and screen, earning praise from The Washington Post, and is an active member of the International Thriller Writers and the Maryland Writers Association. Outside of writing, he enjoys painting, skiing, golf, the Baltimore Ravens, and learning new skills such as the soprano saxophone. Learn more at his website.