Roxie MaxxI'm Roxie Maxx. I came back to Whiskey Pines to help my father run the Whiskey Pines Journal and possibly eat my weight in pastry at Jenny's bakery. Simple plan. Solid plan. A plan that lasted approximately three days before someone turned up dead, my grandmother's Victorian monstrosity revealed a tunnel in the basement, and my ex-husband materialized like bad luck in a beige sweater.
Whiskey Pines sits on Lake Michigan, charm stacked on top of Prohibition-era scandal, old money on top of older grudges. It looks like a postcard. It behaves like a crime scene. I fit right in.
I write the stories. I solve the cases. I keep the coffee hot and Dut Steeplepuss III at a distance that satisfies both my restraining order and my sense of smell. My grandmother's emerald pendant has opinions about all of it, delivered without warning and usually at the worst possible moment.
This is the official home of Whiskey Pines, my books, and the ongoing disaster I call my life. You're welcome to stay. Just don't touch anything in the basement.
She left out the part where I solve half of these cases while she's busy being sentimental over the pendant. Also the pastry situation is worse than she's admitting. I have opinions about the éclair incident and I intend to voice them at length, Kenzie sent, from the depths of a throw pillow she had no intention of vacating.
Kenzie — Bichon Frise, reincarnated speakeasy waitress, reluctant hero
Step Inside →
A little further up the hill from Whiskey Pines, tucked into the pines where the air smells of cedar and cold water, sits Pines & Needles Crafting Colony — and people wait years to get in.
These are privately owned cottages, not rentals. Owners pay a homeowner fee that covers everything: a fully stocked yarn room, shared crafting equipment, a dye studio, a woodworking barn, and access to the common house with its wide-plank floors and a fireplace that hasn't gone cold since 1987. You bring yourself. The Colony provides the rest.
It is beautifully self-contained. It is deliberately exclusive. The waiting list is long and the turnover is low, which is what makes it so interesting when one of the founding owners turns up dead — because in a community this tight, everyone is a neighbor, and everyone has something to protect.
Roxie didn't exactly volunteer. But Kenzie had opinions, and the pendant practically pushed her through the gate.
Residents get the keys.
Inside, there are bonus scenes that never go public, early chapter access, downloadable surprises, crafting patterns, recipes, and the occasional piece of information that could get someone into genuine trouble. Residents receive:
Come for the mystery. Stay for the gossip. I promise not to sell your email address to Dut. He asked once. I laughed for considerably longer than was polite.
Mr. Pemberton has been spotted lurking near the front gate. Come to the