Spotlight: Reasons Why Not to Date the Best Friend by Melanie Munton

(Shell Grove, #3)

Publication date: June 27th 2023

Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

Synopsis:

Sometimes The One you’ve been looking for…

is the one who’s been there all along.

Reason #1: Finn is Maggie’s best friend. They don’t have secrets. Which means they know exactly how disastrous they would be as a couple. They bicker, they annoy each other, but they also have one hell of a good time together. Outside the bedroom, of course. Why would they risk ruining a great thing just to satisfy years of curiosity?

Reason #2: Finn is stable and secure while Maggie acts on any wild hair she gets. She’s always looking for her next adventure. But it’s been a while. Everyone around her is moving forward with their lives, leaving her floating alone in open waters. And when she’s offered the job of a lifetime in Key West—hundreds of miles from their hometown of Shell Grove, SC—it’s too enticing to resist. Besides, it’s not like she’ll ever be the kind of woman Finn would want to settle down with anyway.

Reason #3: Losing Finn would destroy her. That’s exactly what would happen if they ever took things too far and it blew up in their faces. But ever since that job offer was put on the table, Finn is putting a whole lot of other stuff on the table, too. Suddenly, Maggie and Finn are forgetting all of their rules. And she’s wondering why it’s taken them so long to be bad when it feels this good.

Maggie wants more adventure? Fine. Finn will give her all she can handle. She’s avoiding commitment? No problem. He’ll keep his thoughts on the subject to himself. But he’s not letting her take that job in Key West. She has no idea what she’d be throwing away. It’s taken him a long time to see things clearly, too, but his vision is 20/20 now. And he’s not letting his best friend—who might just be the girl of his dreams—go without putting up the fight of his life. All he has to do is show her he can be so much more than just the BEST FRIEND.

Excerpt

Finn stepped through Maggie’s back door and immediately ducked, dodging the flying tennis ball at the last second. Without that fourth cup of coffee, that sucker would have nailed him right in the damn eye. As it was, he was alert—and jittery—as hell.

Don’t give the caffeine all the credit.

Tossing his keys on her kitchen counter, he hesitantly walked across the tile floor, approaching the living room with caution. There was… Shit, he didn’t know what to even call the wide assortment of household items littering her floor. There was obviously a purpose to it all, but that was a code only Maggie could crack. Entering her Alice in Wonderland of a mind made The Butterfly Effect look like a walk in the park.

“What the hell am I looking at right now?”

Maggie’s head whipped in his direction, whisps of her dark hair plastered to her temples where she was sweating. “Canine calisthenics.” She stated it like he was dumb for not seeing it with his own eyes. “The vet says Berkeley’s weight is teetering right on the edge. Gotta keep my boy in shape, Jamie Lee Curtis and John Travolta style.”

“Isn’t that the movie where they spend an entire scene air-humping each other from across a room?”

He dodged another tennis ball that came flying at his head.

“Leave it to you to only remember the tawdry details of an 80s classic.”

The closer he looked at the objects around him, the more shapes he could make out. She had created her own makeshift obstacle course for their four-legged pet. Canine apparatuses of her own invention were set up throughout the house. As was always the case with Maggie, there was a method to her madness. One only she understood, but there was something to be said for it.

Finn rolled his eyes. “Just so you know, the vet only says that so you’ll keep coming back. He’s more interested in checking out your ass in your spandex pants than whether Berkeley’s put on a pound or two. Trust me, his weight is fine.”

A new song came over the speaker that Berkeley seemed to recognize because his tail started wagging like crazy. Maggie caught him when he excitedly stood up on his hind legs, and they proceeded to dance in the middle of the living room.

Oh, Jesus.

Finn only just noticed the matching leg warmers they were wearing. And headbands.

“Since when is my dog a Shakira fan?”

“Since always. He’s part Colombian, after all.”

“We found him on the side of Highway 21, Mags. Pretty sure he didn’t hitchhike from Bogotá.”

“But his spirit animal did.”

“He is an animal.” When Maggie swerved her hips, he swore Berkeley mimicked her. Finn scraped his hands down his face, groaning. “Look what you’re doing to my dog. He’s going soft on me. He didn’t even bark when I entered the house without knocking.”

“Why would he bark at you?”

“He wouldn’t have known who it was when the door first opened.”

Berkeley dropped back down to all fours and copied Maggie when she started twirling in circles. “If anyone is softening up this dog it’s you with all those steaks you’re feeding him. Why do you think he’s having weight issues?”

His molars ground together. “He’s not having weight issues. The vet is having infidelity issues. Dude is married, yet he’s drooling over you like Berkeley does when I pull our steaks off the grill.”

“Ribeyes or porterhouses?”

“What does it matter?”

“If I’m going to be compared to a steak, it better be the finest slab of meat on the market.”

For whatever reason, the moment she said those words, Finn’s eyes dropped straight to her ass. He wasn’t even conscious of the action. Some otherworldly compulsion—likely a demonic possession—seemed to take hold of him. She had on a pair of those ungodly tight pants women wore when they worked out. There were slits cut in the spandex that were made of a sheer, mesh material, and her top was one of those dri-fit tanks that had a built-in bra thing. Maggie still always wore a brightly colored sports bra when she worked out, though, regardless of any built-in material. She couldn’t exactly go without one, considering how…ample…her chest was.

Jesus Christ.

Why was he thinking about her chest size? Or her bras? For fuck’s sake, he only looked because Maggie talking about being compared to a steak had the words prime meat flashing like a goddamn neon sign in his head. Holy shit, he was as bad as the vet. An actual Neanderthal.

The next words out of his mouth proved it to be true.

“You know you’re filet mignon, Mags.”

She tripped over a couch cushion and stared at him in shock.

Oh, motherfuck.

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About the Author

Melanie grew up in the Midwest, but she loves living in the Southeast (where the beaches are!) now with her husband and daughter.
Melanie's other passion is traveling and seeing the world. With anthropology degrees under their belts, she and her husband have made it their goal in life to see as many archaeological sites around the world as possible.
She has a horrible food addiction to pasta and candy (not together...ew). And she gets sad when her wine rack is empty.
At the end of the day, she is a true romantic at heart. She loves writing the cheesy and corny of romantic comedies, and the sassy and sexy of suspense. She aims to make her readers swoon, laugh out loud, maybe sweat a little, and above all, fall in love.
Go visit Melanie's website and sign up for her newsletter to stay updated on release dates, teasers, and other details for all of her projects!

Connect:
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https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13976464.Melanie_Munton

https://www.bookbub.com/authors/melanie-munton

https://twitter.com/melanie_munton

https://www.melaniemunton.com/

https://www.instagram.com/authormelaniemunton/

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Spotlight: Karma by Carly Phillips

Release Date: June 30

They’ve got chemistry. But he’s her brother’s worst enemy—and arresting officer.

For Officer Dare Barron, there’s only one good thing about bad-boy Brian McKnight getting thrown in the drunk tank again. Being there when Brian’s sister, Liza, strides into the precinct on those long, delectable legs to bail her brother out.

It’s not just the old building’s failing air conditioning making Dare sweat. Liza is a contradiction of proper lady and sexy siren who’s riveted Dare’s attention since high school.

She’s always been oblivious, which is a good thing because she’s way out of his league. Plus, she’s got a huge blind spot where her brother’s concerned, and Dare knows what’s hiding in that void she refuses to see.

When one of those secrets threatens Liza’s safety, Dare doesn’t hesitate to appoint himself her protector. Close proximity awakens Liza’s desire for the sexy cop and fuels the sizzling heat between them, but the bad blood between their families could ruin any chance for love.

Note: Karma is book five of Serendipity series by NYT bestselling author Carly Phillips. Contains a by-the-book cop with some hot off-shift fantasies about the girl of his dreams, and a woman who doesn’t quite mind being looked at like she’s a hot fudge sundae.

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About the Author

Carly Phillips is the NY Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author of over eighty sexy contemporary romances featuring hot men, strong women, and emotionally compelling stories her readers have come to expect and love. She is happily married to her college sweetheart and lives in Westchester County, NY. She is the mother of two adult daughters and three crazy dogs who star on her Facebook and Instagram pages. She loves social media and is always around to interact with her readers. Way back in 2002, Carly’s book, The Bachelor, was chosen by Kelly Ripa and was the first romance on a nationally televised book club. Carly loves social media and interacting with her readers. For more information on upcoming releases, sign up for her newsletter (below) and receive two free books!

https://www.carlyphillips.com/subscribe-newsletter/

To learn more about Carly Phillips & her books, visit here!

Connect with Carly Phillips: https://www.carlyphillips.com/ 

Spotlight: Guarding Temptation by Talia Hibbert

Two former friends. One cramped apartment. Three little rules.

Nina Chapman’s most embarrassing moment? Finally dragging James Foster into bed. The stern, steady mechanic made her see stars… then called her a mistake and disappeared, leaving the tatters of their friendship in his wake.

But when Nina’s work as an investigative journalist brings death threats to her door, James marches back into her life, armed with irrational demands. He doesn’t care how long it’s been, or how distant they’ve become.

She must move into his flat.

She must sleep in his bed.

And she cannot leave his side—not for a second.

What could possibly go wrong?

Warning: this steamy novella contains a grumpy heroine, an overprotective hero, and a shared apartment with only one bed.

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About the Author

Talia Hibbert is a New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author who lives in a bedroom full of books. Supposedly, there is a world beyond that room, but she has yet to drum up enough interest to investigate.

She writes spicy, diverse romance because she believes that people of marginalised identities need honest and positive representation. Her interests include makeup, junk food, and unnecessary sarcasm. Talia and her many books reside in the English Midlands.

Connect:

Instagram: @taliahibbert

Twitter: @taliahibbert

Spotlight: Quicksand Series Boxset by Delaney Diamond

Publication date: Jun 16th 2023
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Synopsis:

Quicksand is a series of stand alone stories based on love, sex, and romance. You can’t fight your way out of quicksand, and you can’t fight your way out of love. Books four, five, and six are available in this box set!

NIGHT AND DAY
Are they just two people on the rebound seeking comfort in each other’s arms?

When Tamika Jones arrives at the apartment on Hargrove Street, she expects to find her boyfriend, the money he stole, and the woman he cheated on her with. Instead, she finds Anton Bevins, a young attorney, who’s good-looking, bewildered by her appearance, and also a victim. The two end up in a sexy, fun-loving relationship that takes them both by surprise, but is it really love?

Excerpt

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Anton rolled onto his back and squinted against the sunlight coming in through the curtains.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The noise was coming from the front door. Someone was knocking. Loud.

Rolling onto his side with a groan, he checked the clock beside the bed. Seven-thirty on a Saturday morning. What the hell? Who would—

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Irritated, he tossed off the sheets and marched to the door with angry strides. The person on the other side better be dying, or they’d be getting their butt kicked.

Though upset, he took the precaution of peering out the peephole to see who was attacking his door and was taken aback when he saw the petite woman out front. Wearing a baseball cap low on her head, he could tell she was attractive even through the distorted lens and the angry pucker of her lips.

“Open the door, Calvin!” she screamed. “I know you’re in there, and I’m not going anywhere, so you might as well come out.” She started banging with her fist again.

How could someone so small make that much noise?

Anton swung open the door and her hand remained suspended in the air, mid-bang. Her eyebrows winged together in a startled expression, and then her gaze traveled from his bare chest, down his pajama pants, to his bare feet. His skin tingled everywhere she looked, as surely as if she’d dragged her palms down his chest.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“I should be asking you that question. I live here, not this Calvin person you’re looking for. You have the wrong address.”

She smirked. “Nice try. I know he doesn’t live here, but I know he’s here with that b*tch.” She then lifted a baseball bat he hadn’t seen through the peephole, over her right shoulder, as if she were standing at the plate ready to swing.

Anton’s hands lifted in defense. “Whoa, hold on. There’s no Calvin here, and I don’t know who the b*tch—I mean, woman—is that you’re looking for.”

One sculpted brow lifted above her skeptical dark eyes. Despite the volatile situation, he couldn’t help appraising her features. When was the last time he’d seen anyone quite so… stunning? With a round face, high cheekbones, and catlike eyes that glared at him but managed to look sensuous at the same time. Her nose tilted slightly upward at the tip, and her full, thick lips could be too much on the wrong face, but settled on hers in a way that drew the eye and made him temporarily forget the damage she could do with that bat nestled on her shoulder.

She wore a red top that, well… it was rather revealing, exposing her midriff and showing off the dark walnut of her flat stomach and the white-gold belly ring nested in her navel. He had to force himself to look at her face and keep his gaze there, which wasn’t an easy task.

Anton swallowed hard to beat back the lust that reared its head as he admired nature’s handiwork.

“Sure you don’t know them. Unless you want some of this”—she waved the bat—“I suggest you get out of my way and let me handle my business.”

“This is my apartment,” Anton insisted.

These gated communities weren’t worth the money. Why pay extra when it was so easy for crazy people to slip in behind someone else, like this psycho obviously had?

“Calvin!” the stranger screamed. When she tried to shove past him, Anton slammed his hand on the doorframe.

“Listen,” he said, lowering his voice to a lethal level, “I don’t need you waking up my neighbors and causing me problems, all right? This is my apartment. I’m not telling you again. There is no Calvin here. This is 2516 Hargrove Street Apt C. You have the wrong address.”

Bad enough she’d woken him up out of bed after a long week, but now she was getting on his nerves with her insistence of trying to get past him to find this Calvin dude.

“No, I do not have the wrong address. Tell me this, do you know who Melissa is?”

Shock jolted Anton’s back ramrod straight. “Melissa?”

The stranger smirked knowingly. “You do know her. Where is she? Tell her I want to talk.” She tapped the bat in her left palm, looking like anything but someone who only wanted to talk.

WHAT SHE DESERVES
Fiery passion wages a war between two destined hearts.

Layla Fleming may miss the toe-curling nights between the sheets with Rashad Greene, but it took a long time for her heart to heal. So when she sees the cocky playboy years later, she ignores his advances and moves on. With the first glimpse, Rashad knows he must have Layla back in his bed, but he still holds a dark secret and worries the chemistry between them will fizzle if she knows the truth.

THE FRIEND ZONE
Their friendship is strong. Their attraction is stronger.

For years, English professor Dana Lindstrom has been crushing on her friend, ex-NFL football player Omar Bradford. When another man sparks her interest, she embarks on a new relationship to help her get over those feelings. When Dana’s new love interest stirs intense jealousy, Omar will risk their friendship to show her once and for all he’s the only man she’ll ever need.

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About the Author

Delaney Diamond is the USA Today Bestselling Author of black romance and interracial romance in the contemporary romance and romantic suspense genres. She reads romance novels, mysteries, thrillers, and a fair amount of nonfiction. When she’s not busy reading or writing, she’s in the kitchen trying out new recipes, dining at one of her favorite restaurants, or traveling to an interesting locale. To get sneak peeks, notices of sale prices, and find out about new releases, visit her website and join her mailing list. Enjoy free stories on her website at www.delaneydiamond.com.

Connect:

Website: https://delaneydiamond.com/

Mailing list: http://bit.ly/DelDiam

Readers group: https://bit.ly/3sRgyh5

Facebook: facebook.com/delaneydiamond

Twitter: twitter.com/DelaneyDiamond

Pinterest: pinterest.com/delaneydiamond

Podcast: http://podcast.delaneydiamond.com

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/delaneydiamondbooks/

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B004HU9G3G

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Spotlight: Bailout by M M Flynn

Genre: Celebrity Sports Romance

About Bailout:

The instant connection that sparked in Booker continues in a way that no one expected…

This is the third time my life has fallen apart.

What I had pretended to be in the past is now banging on the door of my present.

After living so many different lives, each one is a more faded version of myself. Who am I now? Who do I want to be?

Does Sam feel my body desperately reaching for his?

I don’t know who I am if I don’t mean anything to Kat.

After Kat dropped a bomb on my life, I’m filling my time with parties and fake shit. I need something else to keep me going. Something that won’t make me think about her.

I’m somehow still tied to her. Like our connection is too tightly knotted to be unwound.

I will always, always crawl back to her. Wherever she is.

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About the Author

M M Flynn developed a passion for romance novels somewhere between her career as a textbook editor and the throes of motherhood.

She currently lives in the heart of the US with her husband, two kids and their pet doodle.

With each new book, M continues to captivate readers with her unique storytelling style and ability to create unforgettable, multidimensional characters. Her books have been praised for their ability to bring a fresh perspective to the romance genre, and have earned her a loyal following of fans.

Connect with the Author: Facebook | Instagram | Twitter | Newsletter | Website | Tiktok | Pinterest | Spotify

Spotlight: The Night It Ended by Katie Garner

Publisher: MIRA

Finding the truth seems impossible when her own dark past has her seeing lies everywhere she looks...

From the outside, criminal psychiatrist Dr. Madeline Pine's life appears picture-perfect--she has a beautiful family, a successful mental health practice and a growing reputation as an expert in female violence. But when she's called to help investigate a mysterious death at a boarding school for troubled girls, Madeline hesitates. She's been through tragic cases before, and the one she was entangled in last year nearly destroyed her...

Yet she can't turn away when she hears about Charley Ridley. After the girl was found shoeless and in pajamas at the bottom of an icy ravine on campus, the police ruled it a tragic accident. But the private investigator hired by her mother has his doubts. And if it were Madeline's daughter who died, she'd want to know why.

Arriving at the secluded campus in upstate New York, Madeline's met by an unhelpful skeleton staff and the four other students still on campus during winter break. Each seems to hold a piece of the puzzle. And everyone has secrets--Madeline included. But who would kill to protect them?

Intertwining the narrative with the transcript of an anonymous interview, this stunning suspense debut from Katie Garner will take you on a twisting path where nothing--and no one--is what it seems.

Excerpt

Friday, December 16

I’m speeding home when the phone rings, persistent and angry, demanding to be heard. I know I should answer it, even though I want nothing more than to throw it out the window. I could let the call slide into voice mail, delete it, never hear the voice on the other side.

But I can’t.

I jerk to the side of the icy road to a chorus of blaring horns, dig the phone out from the cavernous tote bag resting on the passenger seat beside me. The phone is sleek and black, brand-new—opposite of the cracked, chunky white one I’m used to shoving in my back pocket.

A sweet little chime and the ringing ends.

1 new voice mail.

Quickly, I glance in the side mirror. Car exhaust melts away into the morning winter sky. Nothing is behind me, nothing but air. I exhale a deep sigh of relief, press the phone to my ear.

“H-hi, this message is for Dr. Madeline Pine—”

A siren wails in the distance. The phone slips through my fingers, lands mutely in my lap. A knot swells in my throat. I glance in the side mirror again, feel my heart pound, each breath shrinking to tiny gasps. The sirens near. An emergency vehicle speeds past.

It’s only an ambulance.

My body wilts. I take a deep breath. In. Out. The knot in my throat loosens.

I hate the person I’ve become. I’ve never been this nervous, this afraid, anxiety and fear clinging to my every move. I wish I could escape—step into someone else’s life, if only for a moment.

Just twelve short months ago everything was different. I was different. Any other December, I would’ve been home, prepping for the holidays, shopping online for last-minute deals on things none of us needed. My husband, Dave, would be staying too late at work, his dinner wrapped in a blanket of aluminum foil, kept warm on the stove. My teenage daughter, Izzi, would be upstairs in her room, scrolling noiselessly through her phone, feet kicked up on the bed behind her.

The house would’ve hummed with the steady softness of disjointed home life, but instead here I am, lurched to the side of the road, the air frigid in the tiny cabin of my car, listening to a voice mail I never thought I’d hear.

I replay the message:

“H-hi, this message is for Dr. Madeline Pine. If you get this, I’m Matthew Reyes, a private investigator working on behalf of a family. Listen, I was hoping you could please call me back at this number, I—I’d really appreciate it. We have a sixteen-year-old female who died on school property. The police believe it’s an accident, but the mother hired me to be sure. The girl was found at the bottom of a hill. No witnesses. I thought you might be able to help—given your expertise. Please call me back. Thanks.”

I repeat his words in my head. The girl was found at the bottom of a hill—I can picture it, picture her. She’s there, fallen sideways, her body splashed across the woodland floor. Moss and stones, skin and blood, leaves and twigs. I don’t know her, but I don’t have to. I already feel as if she were mine.

The man who left the voice mail, Matthew Reyes, has a voice both gravelly and weary, and I know what he wants the moment he mentions the school. Police often believe they can demand anything they want and get it immediately—even psychological evaluations—but it takes time to gain trust from strangers, and even more time to tease out the truth. Especially from teenage girls.

I start weighing my options. I’m not sure I’m capable of this, of anything. Especially after last year…especially after what just happened in that too-hot office during this morning’s disastrous therapy session.

My face flushes at the memory of the woman who’d been sitting cross-legged in front of me. Her beautiful face. Her pink silk shirt blurring out of focus. Her condescending tone—as though the therapy sessions weren’t all for her benefit to begin with.

That’s what I have to remind myself. That’s what I have to hold on to. They’re for her. Not me. I’m the one who’s fine. I should be taking comfort in that, taking comfort in the fact that I never have to see her beautiful face again, never have to be reminded of—

It’s over. I didn’t have a choice before. Now I do. I have lots of choices. An avalanche of choices. My life before today was preprogrammed for me. Not anymore. I fixed it.

Tears slip down my cheeks. I bite them back, strangle the phone in my lap, squeeze it so tight I wonder how it fails to snap in two. Choices. Possibilities.

My mind whirls as I punch the gas, merge into traffic, race home. I run inside, slam the door, bolt the lock. Gazing around my gloom-infested house, I shrivel back as wind blows branches of a nearby tree, scraping the side of the house like fingernails.

Peering at the bulging paper bag of prescriptions on the kitchen island, my eyes prick with tears. My glasses fog. I take them off, rub the lenses clean on my turtleneck.

After so many months, the pills should be working. I should stop taking them altogether. Just throw them all in the toilet, flush them down, watch them whirl around the porcelain bowl.

I think of words my daughter, Izzi, said to me: Mom, please just stop.

Stop.

I don’t know the person I’ve become, too empty, too full, all at once. I need to change. I want to be different. Every day, I think of ways I can be. It can still happen. I’m free now. I have choices now, possibilities. Maybe it’s never too late to change everything. Maybe I just need to escape.

Besides, wiggle room is all it takes for a snake to get out of its skin.

The phone rings again. I snuff the urge to hurl it across the room before glancing at the screen. It’s the same number as before. The same number as the voice mail. I hold my breath and answer.

“Hello?”

“Hello—is this Dr. Madeline Pine?”

“Um—yes. It is.” My heart thuds. “Who’s this?”

A sigh of relief, deep and heavy, into the phone. “This is private investigator Matthew Reyes. Thank you so much for answering, Dr. Pine. I—I know it’s a chaotic time of year and you’re probably busy with family but…would you be able to make a trip up to Iron Hill?”

“I—I don’t know where that is.”

“It’s about two hours north of Poughkeepsie. Upstate New York.”

“Right, okay.” Far. Very far. Too far for my ailing car to make it. I know I should just buy a new one, but I can’t. My husband Dave always said the color perfectly matched my eyes. Now I can’t even remember the last time we looked at each other.

“So, are you busy this weekend?” Reyes asks, then pauses. “I mean, you’re sure you don’t mind ditching your family right before the holidays?”

“When you put it that way, it sounds horrible.” Awkward laugh. “But, um, my husband and daughter aren’t home now, anyway—they’ve gone away to visit my in-laws.”

“You have no idea how grateful I’d be if you could make it,” he says, sounding hopeful. I don’t know what he looks like, but I can imagine him smiling. “I mean, I’ve been calling around to different psychologists all day, and—well, it should only be for a couple of days. You’d definitely be back by Christmas, the latest.”

I wince, feel a surge of sorrow. I’m too embarrassed to admit that Dave and Izzi have no intention of spending the holidays with me this year. It’s what I deserve after what I did.

“I’m sorry,” I say, “please refresh my memory. Have we ever met? You said you’re a private investigator hired by the victim’s—er, the deceased’s—family?”

“Yes, I mean, we haven’t met, but I read about the work you did on the Strum case last year. I believe one of the victims was around the same age as our current victim. And I pulled up your book online—Dark Side: A Psychological Portrait of the Criminal Female Mind. You specialize in women. Just so happens the case is at an all-girls boarding school.”

My stomach clenches. Focus. Deep breath. I shift my gaze to the calendar hanging in the kitchen. I don’t even know why I bother to keep one anymore. I have the same schedule now, week in, week out. Before, the month of December would’ve been filled with holiday office parties, Izzi’s end-of-year school activities, Dave’s plans for winter break, which I’d always beg him to change.

I glance up. Friday, December 16. This morning’s therapy session slashes across my mind again. I see her face. Blank, empty. Her lips begin to curl around a word. I see myself in the reflection of her eyes. I’m close. Closer. I swallow hard.

“The, um, the students don’t go home for the holidays?” I ask, slumping down to the floor.

“Winter break is Saturday, the tenth to New Year’s. A few students stayed behind.” Reyes pauses. “The students who either couldn’t travel for various reasons or chose not to go home.”

I lean the back of my head against the wall.

Reyes continues. “The school is asking me to wrap up my investigation before students and staff return January 2.”

“Okay…”

He senses my discomfort, keeps talking. “Please. Please say yes. You mentioned you have a daughter. How would you feel if it were her?” he asks. “If she was found dead, you’d want closure, right? To be sure everything was done by the book and no stone was left unturned.”

My stomach flips. “Of course I would.”

“So, please. Please say you’ll help.”

I think of my daughter, Izzi, the lengths I’d go to if she was found at the bottom of a hill. Even if it was an accident, I’d want to know why. I’d want to know how she got there. 

If she was alone. Afraid. Or if someone else was responsible. I’d want to know. I’d find them, I’d—

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I confess.

I shut my eyes, see her face again, legs crossed, sitting prim in that too-hot office, the heat blasting, the furniture too big for the tiny space. I tug at the neck of my sweater, suddenly tight, see my reflection in her eyes—close, so close.

No. Stop. I suck up a big breath, blow it all out.

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but after that case last year—” My voice cracks.

“The Strum case?” A note of curiosity in Reyes’s question.

“Yeah. Since then, things have been difficult. I ended up taking some time off—”

“I—I wasn’t aware. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. It just—it makes cases like this difficult.”

“Oh—”

“But before I say yes or no, can you give me an overview? What, exactly, I’ll be doing when I get there? I want to be sure I know what I’m stepping into.”

Reyes lets out a breath. “Yeah—yes, of course,” he says, a hint of desperation in his voice. “Well, it happened at a private, all-girls boarding school called Shadow Hunt Hall. They have a very small student body on a very large campus. It’s densely wooded and incredibly isolated. It’s one of those ‘back-to-nature, no technology on campus’ sort of places. The girls are mostly… I guess the best word for it is—troubled?”

“Isn’t that the best kind of girl?”

“Uh, here,” he says, ignoring my attempt at a joke. “I’ll send you some info.”

I glance at the screen, see he’s texted a link to the school’s website. I tap it open, swipe down the page. The school is ancient. Giant and stone, with iron gates and actual turrets, like a possessed fairy-tale castle. The curriculum looks interesting.

Definitely nontraditional. It’s all music and arts and dance. I skim the mission statement:

We believe in a holistic, individual approach to learning and rehabilitation, focusing on a curriculum centered on nature, group trust, and a healthy mind-body connection.

Code words for no junk food or internet.

Reyes waits patiently on the other end as I peruse the site. I click on the Tuition & Financial Aid page and flinch. A single term is more than twice the down payment we put on the house.

“You there? Dr. Pine?”

I lick my lips. “I’m here.”

He pauses. “I’m having trouble getting any of the students to even talk to me,” he admits. “That’s why I need you.”

I think of Izzi, chewing on her fingernails, avoiding eye contact when I ask how her day went. Ever since she started high school it’s been all one-word answers—good, fine—before she’d bound upstairs, not to be seen again until dinner.

So I can’t imagine how the girls at this boarding school would react to a male private investigator showing up out of nowhere, prodding them with questions right after their classmate died. No doubt they’d recoil, want nothing to do with him.

“Okay… I’ll help you,” I whisper.

Excerpted from The Night It Ended. Copyright © 2023 by Katie Garner. Published by MIRA, an imprint of HarperCollins.

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About the Author

Katie Garner was born in New York and grew up in New Jersey. She has a degree in Art History from Ramapo College and is certified to teach high school Art. She hoards paperbacks, coffee mugs, and dog toys and can be seen holding at least one of those things most of the time.

​Katie lives in a New Jersey river town with her husband, baby boy, and shih-poo where she writes books about women and their dark, secret selves. The Night It Ended is her debut novel.