A Claw-some Affair is here!

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A highly inaccurate psychic. A grumpy writer. And a corpse. Welcome to Starry Falls. Running from the mob can be murder.

Confession. I’m no psychic. But I can sort of see the future—albeit not accurately. And you better believe, I’ve never let that little detail stop me from prognosticating my way into a pickle. So when I ticked off the mob, the feds, and my wily ex, I decided to take my Uncle Vinny’s advice and start over with a new name and new hair color while relying on my old shtick—getting my psychic wires crossed and putting myself in danger. 

Fall is in the air, and to celebrate there’s a masquerade ball at the Mortimer manor where socialites and dapper men abound. But when someone drops dead in the middle of the dance floor, fingers are pointed at everyone—including the deceased. 

Shep is as ornery as ever. Whoever keeps sending me those threatening notes has grown far more brazen, and my insights to the future have not only increased, but I’ve just seen a glimpse of something that I want no part of. With my luck—that will be the only vision that comes to fruition just the way it’s threatened to. 

Living in Starry Falls is proving to be deadly. 

Happy reading! XOXO