Romantic Mystery Authors Novels & Stories

“He’s clearly got you on drugs or something.” “That’s ridiculous. I’m completely sober.” “Are you, Camille? I should give you a test or something.” He checked out the other books. More vampire romance? Where were the werewolves? He saw none. “Wrong,” Dire grumbled. Don’t worry. We’ll get her proper books. Maddox browsed more of the vampire books and realized that they all had the same author. Grace Moon. That was an interesting name.

1 VIKTOR I lay back, Sabrina nestled beside me, her soft breaths a steady rhythm against the harsh thrum of my thoughts. She was warm, comforting, her scent something that grounded me, but my mind was a different place entirely. It always was. I couldn’t stop the ghosts that haunted me—those women who had tried to kill me, who had thought they could outsmart me, end me. I’d already eliminated them. All of them. The first one, Mia, she came to mind easily.

I was delighted to uncover new layers beneath this prickly barista's tough exterior. "So mysteries are your favorite books? Any current authors you'd recommend?" I asked, genuinely curious to know more about her tastes. Aria's eyes lit up, clearly passionate about this topic. "Oh yes! I just finished a great atmospheric thriller by Ruth Ware. And Jean Kwok writes amazing psychological suspense." I smiled as she rattled off a whole list of mystery writers and descriptors for why she loved them. Her enthusiasm was captivating. "I may have to check out some of those. I tend toward action thrillers, but I'm open to new things," I said.

Footsteps walked into the living room, and I raised my head slowly, my throat tightening when I met his gaze. The intensity, the burning desire, the way his eyes darkened with something forbidden like he wouldn’t hesitate to take me right there. My pulse stumbled, my heart betrayed me, and my composure threatened to slip away. Damien stepped forward, his eyes on me the whole time without sparing a glance at Caterina. She faced him, but he didn’t look away, not even for a second. Standing a few away, his lips parted to speak, words that further fueled my uneasiness and anxiety.

A smile found my lips in the dark behind my closed eyes. Subtle. Secretive. Belonging to no one but me. I was no longer just Georgia Mason, the flawless acquisition, the diamond princess preserved and displayed and maintained to someone else's precise specifications. I had become something else tonight under a bookstore awning in the rain. Something dangerous. Something that had remembered, in the press of warm hands and a mouth that meant what it did, that it was free. She left the water on the marble. The small rebellions are where it starts. -- J

A small smile tugged at her lips as she got up and walked over. Running her fingers along the spines, she realized with surprise that they were all romance novels. For a moment, she wondered why Liam had chosen romance for her? She had expected mysteries or something darker. After scanning the titles, her hand paused on one. She pulled it out gently. Whispers of the Forgotten Moon by Evelyn Hart. Carrying it back to the bed, she curled up against the pillows and opened the book. Caleb stepped out of the car as he quickly opened the door for Liam, who came out and strode past him without sparing a glance, as he walked straight into the house.

The lantern cast her shadow long and warped against the wall, stretching her thinner than she really was. There was something on the table. She hadn’t left it there. Ben felt the spike of fear the moment her eyes landed on it. A ribbon. It lay coiled neatly beside the lamp, pale blue, clean and new. Completely out of place in the modest, worn-down room. Her breath hitched as she reached for it, fingers hovering just above the fabric. She hadn’t owned anything like this. Her chest tightened. She picked it up, the silk cool and unfamiliar against her skin. It smelled faintly of something sharp and foreign, like leather and smoke.

One was a Graham Greene, the other a Wilbur Smith African adventure. ‘I’ve read this before,’ she said, indicating the Graham Greene. ‘But it was ages ago, and I wouldn’t mind reading it again. I’ve never read any Wilbur Smith.' ‘Take them both,’ he said. ‘Thanks. That’s brilliant. Don’t work too hard, will you?’ And, before any more inane remarks escaped her lips, she turned for the still-open door. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Be good.’ The irony was so faint, she wasn’t even sure it was there. ‘You too’, she said, with idiotic brightness. ‘Nighty-night.’ ‘Goodnight.’ And he shut the door behind her.

“That makes no sense at all. Are you sure? Wouldn’t it be a nonfiction tell-all book if she wrote one? “I don’t know what she would have written or if she wrote anything. I’ll try to gather some information.” “Get back to me quickly.” Michael disconnected the call and settled back into the car. Finally, he did what he should have done a long time ago. He looked up the author A.K. Crusader. He knew the man’s books only by their titles. Now he was curious. What Michael found only confused him more. A.K. Crusader wrote romance novels. A genre that was mostly written by women.

"You've to be careful, my lady. Please always remember your position. You're the Luna of the pack and Damien is your man," I felt torn and heartbroken. I nodded my head knowing she was right. *** I yawned softly after completing two novels, a werewolf, and an urban story. The Rise Of The Secret Trillionaire Heir by rare gem writes and The Alpha's Revenge by Mystic writes. They are available in Goodnovel and Meganovel. I can't have enough of them. I stood up from the chair, stretched my arms widely, and returned the books to the shelf. "Look who we have here," I looked up as I heard his cold and familiar voice.