Merlot, Magic, and Murder...
The annual Westwick Corners Wine Festival is a time for the popping of corks and, Cen hopes, time for Tyler to pop the question and propose. But when a festival goer turns up dead, it’s clear that merlot, magic and murder don’t mix!
Witching Hour Dead is book 5 in the Westwick Witches Paranormal Cozy Mystery series. All books can be read standalone but you'll love the books more if you start with book 1, Witch You Well.
Genre: FICTION / Mystery & Detective / Women Sleuths
This is book 5 in a bestselling series of standalone humourous paranormal mysteries featuring a small town family of witches. The first 4 books have been translated into several languages and sell well internationally in Dutch, German, Italian, French and other languages.
Chapter 1
It was an unseasonably cold day, even for October. I was holed up in my office on a Friday afternoon. I had the baseboard heater turned up to the highest setting, half-pretending I was on a tropical island under an umbrella sipping Pina Coladas. In reality, I was racing to meet a deadline. But speed-editing my feature story on the upcoming annual Westwick Corners Wine Festival wasn’t going all that well. My brain kept drifting off to Pina Colada land, so I wasn’t getting much done.
I am the procrastination queen, which is why I was stuck here in my dingy office on the top floor of a hundred-year-old building. The creaking floorboards, hissing pipes, and all sorts of mysterious noises were the only things that kept me company. It was creepy working alone sometimes.
I had missed lunch and found it hard to concentrate with my stomach rumbling, so I decided to go out to get a snack before the café down the street closed. I had just grabbed my jacket when the outer office door slammed, stopping me in my tracks. I wasn’t expecting anyone.
A pony wall separates my outer office from the rest of the floorspace. The top part of the wall was frosted glass. It was a 1940s update that I had planned to change eventually, but I’d grown to love it. It reminded me of a Sam Spade detective agency.
The Westwick Corners Weekly isn’t exactly cutting-edge journalism, so I’ve never had to worry about stalkers or other crazies. Until now, that is, when an unidentified intruder stood one pony wall away from me.
I don’t lock my doors. Being risk averse, I would like to, but it’s simply not ‘done’ in Westwick Corners. Small towns have their own kind of peer pressure.
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Dutch
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Unavailable for translation.
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German
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Unavailable for translation.
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Italian
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Already translated.
Translated by Laura Lucardini
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Portuguese
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Already translated.
Translated by Christiane Jost
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Elisa de Diego
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Author review: Great translator, easy to work with |
