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I run a crafting colony, a small stack of unresolved grudges, and, apparently, this website. If you came here for a good story, welcome. If you came here for common sense, the bakery is two doors down (their scones ask fewer questions than I do).
Whiskey Pines looks quiet from the street. It is not. Pull up a chair, and I will tell you everything, in the order I am legally allowed to.
— Roxie Maxx, reluctant proprietor of nearly everything
They call me Kenzie. I run this town. Or I would, if anyone around here listened to a dog.
Roxie does the sleuthing. I do the thinking. You do the reading. It's cozier in here than it looks, and considerably more dangerous. Come in. Wipe your feet. And try not to touch anything that isn't yours. We've had trouble with that lately.
— Kenzie, Bichon Frise, reincarnated, and the only one in Whiskey Pines who knows where the bodies are. Figuratively. Mostly.
A Pines & Needles Paranormal Crafting Mystery — Book One
Whiskey Pines, Michigan, 1988. A women's crafting colony on the Lake Michigan shore. A deceased member with something to say. Pages missing from the Founders binder. And a smiling attorney on the one day no one is supposed to be there. Meet the town. Stay for the trouble.
Page through the opening chapter of Quiet Treachery right on the page, with sound and all the trimmings.
See reading options →New release notices, dispatches from Roxie, seasonal recipes from the Crumb Cottage Bakery, and the occasional grievance from Contessa. Twice a month. No spam, just Whiskey Pines.
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