Death Under the Mistletoe












ISBN Digital: 978-1-62830-022-2
Page Count: 113
Word Count: 25988
Rating: Sensual (PG-PG13)


Hoping to reconcile with her best friend, Lily Carlson agrees to maid of honor duties at a Christmas wedding. Holidays are already difficult, but this event promises emotional hell before the tree drops its first needles. The groom is Lily's last lover, a man who dumped her in public. When he's found hanging at the altar--under the mistletoe and without pants--Lily is the main suspect.

Gray Bronson left town five years earlier. Now he's back to act as best man, even though he hates the groom. Years ago, Gray revoked Lily's virgin club membership, and he's determined to win her back. But Lily is being framed, and her own actions make her look guilty.

A trail of broken hearts leads to the murderer, but Lily's celebration may be fatally delayed. Will the hapless lovers find a happily ever after gift-wrapped under the Christmas tree?

Rating: Sensual
Page Count: 113
Word Count: 25988
978-1-62830-022-2 Digital

Excerpt:

“Lily, this is my wedding. The maid of honor is supposed to make sure everything goes well.”

Maybe that defined my duties in a traditional sense, but Alexa’s wedding planner, Stephanie White, had made my presence irrelevant. The woman had morphed into a dominatrix with a penchant for lace veils and rose petals. She made European railroad schedules look like kindergarten attempts at slavish obedience to a clock.

My stomach flip-flopped. I inhaled and pushed out jumbled words. “Rod is…” I couldn’t find the words.

Alexa’s fists punctuated her hips. “He’s drunk. Great. Just great.”

I closed my eyes against Alexa’s anger.

“Wait, what’s wrong with Rod?” She dropped onto a chair, probably inspired toward weak knees by my facial expression.

I sank to the floor beside her and, against my better judgment, took her hand in mine. She continued to watch me, her confused expression unwavering.

Somehow I found the guts to spit out the truth. “What I meant to say is, Rod’s dead.”

She shook her head. “No. No way.”

Alexa leaped to her feet faster than I could react. Running full-out, she screeched to a stop within view of her groom’s corpse. Her faint punctuated our already crappy heart-to-heart.

The wedding of my girlfriend to my former boyfriend wasn’t supposed to start—or end—this way.




Copyright © 2017 The Wild Rose Press, Inc.