Audrey Scott is more upset for her jilted cousin than for the best man who supposedly disappeared and caused the cancellation of the wedding. That is, until the cops come around looking for him on suspicion of murder. When that very same best man, Foster McGuire, ends up bleeding in Audrey’s closet, she has no choice but to try and get him off the hook for a crime he didn’t commit.
Too bad there’s too many people, from an irritating homicide detective who’s way too attractive for Audrey’s own good, right to mob bosses, who don’t want to see Foster McGuire tell his story. Audrey is no detective. In fact, she’s a children’s librarian. However, there’s always room for some good old investigation work between story times, and she’s going to use the skills she knows to follow a trail that starts with murder and ends with betrayal, with a whole lot of guns in between.
Amber Gilchrist lives in New Mexico with her husband and five children. She writes mysteries and LDS Romantic Comedies. Under the name Aimee Gilchrist, she writes mysteries and suspense. She calls her lifetime of jumping from one job to another ‘experience’ for her books and not an inability to settle down. Amber loves mysteries and a good, happy romance. She also loves to laugh. Sometimes she likes all of them together.
A fan of quirky movies and indie books, Amber likes to be with her family, is socially inept, and fears strangers and small yippy dogs. She alternates between writing and being a mom and wife. She tries to do both at the same time but her kids don’t appreciate being served lunch and told, “This is the hot dog of your discontent.” So mostly she writes when everyone else is in bed.
Amber loves to hear from readers and can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org
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I pulled out the flowers and hefted the vase, which had to weigh a good twenty pounds. All the while, the intruder stood in the closet and breathed. What the heck was he doing in there? Trying on my clothes? I turned on the closet and had to stifle a hysterical laugh. I was like a bad game of Clue. Audrey in the closet with the rose vase.
When she finally glanced up and saw me, she held out a bundle of paper and gave me the evil eye. “He made me eat a hot dog with him.”
It wouldn’t have sounded like much, but I certainly wouldn’t have wanted to have lunch alone with Step-Ted, even at a hot dog cart in broad daylight. “You’re the best. Did you read it?”
She glared at me, not bothering to hide her disdain. Of course she wouldn’t. Gretchen didn’t believe in hiding anything at all. “No. I’m going to go home and take seven baths, then burn everything you own.”
With that, she gave me a mock salute, dropped her phone in her purse and disappeared into the crowd. “Thanks!” I called after her, positive that she’d have forgotten how annoying Step-Ted, and I, were by dinner.
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