I’ve been recovering from creative burnout for the last year, which led me to trashing the original (and half finished) manuscripts to both books mentioned above because they weren’t up to my storytelling standards. Unfortunately, those decisions put me behind schedule, and Amazon only allows authors to extend their pre-order once by an additional thirty days—which is rarely helpful. The only call to make, tough as it might be, was to cancel these pre-orders and finish writing the books at my own pace.
I love Larkin and Doyle (as well as Gillian and Gunner) so much, and writing these stories brings me such joy. I don’t want to lose what makes writing special in a mad dash to reach the finish line, and I don’t think readers would like those books either. I know this is disappointing, but I promise I’m hard at work on Hudson River Homicides and our favorite cold case detective and forensic artist aren’t going anywhere!
I’m going to avoid assigning a specific release date until I’ve finished writing the book. (It will be 2024!) But once Hudson River Homicides goes into edits, the schedule becomes surefire, so I’ll be able to share the date publicly! And when Book 4 releases, yes, Kale Williams will return to narrate the audiobook too.
I really appreciate your support of my writing and the excitement you share with me for Larkin and Doyle. I can’t tell you how incredible it is, how happy I am that these two unconventional heroes have found so much acceptance with readers.
Below is the official blurb for Hudson River Homicides, as well as a little excerpt for your reading pleasure! Thank you again, my friends, and I promise to keep you updated via newsletter and my social media channels.
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Blurb: The Cold Case Squad has a problem: someone won’t stop taunting Detective Everett Larkin. He’s been able to apprehend some of the worst criminals to ever stalk the streets of New York City, thanks in great part to forensic artist and boyfriend, Ira Doyle, but after their last case, events have taken a turn for the worse.
A body recovered from the Hudson River bears a message addressed to Larkin, as well as another token from Victorian mourning culture. And as nineteenth century hair jewelry leads Larkin deeper into the growing tangle of interconnected crimes, it becomes evident that solving these mysteries will come at a profound cost. To be a good detective, Larkin will have to put his relationship on the line by revisiting the past and enduring sleepless nights—lest the sender act on their threat against Doyle.
What began as a game of cat and mouse has turned into a fight for love and life itself.
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Excerpt: Doyle wore a light gray suit that morning—a color he didn’t typically favor, but in Larkin’s professional opinion, it really complimented his physical blessings—paired with a powder blue button down, sleeves rolled back of course, and a navy tie with the knot just the slightest bit askew.
In other words: Ira Doyle was perfect.
Doyle smiled, big and bright, like he only had eyes for Larkin. The strap of his portfolio bag crossed his chest from left to right and he held two of the same coffee cups and sandwiches as Porter—sans bacon, Larkin guessed.
Porter tilted his head sideways in reference to Doyle while saying, “Look who I bumped into at the food cart downstairs.”
Doyle said to Larkin, “I figured you’d probably be jonesing for some calories about now.”
“He’s a real peach, Grim,” Porter interjected.
“Thank you, Porter,” Larkin answered, holding the phone to his chest.
“I’m just saying—my ex-wife was never so thoughtful.” Porter set his breakfast on his messy desktop. He tossed his coat over the back of his chair and pocketed the handkerchief before adding, “Come to think of it, I don’t recall your husband ever coming ‘round with coffee, either.”
“Ex-husband,” Larkin corrected. “Because he was expected to be at his job.” And as Doyle approached Larkin’s desk, he said, more quietly to his partner, “You have a job too.”
“It’s still early,” Doyle insisted, voice dropping to match Larkin’s tone. He stood close enough that Larkin had to tilt his head back, but not so close that their intimacy was on public display. “How’re you?”
“I suppose making a spectacle over subpar hold music has given me away.”
“A bit.”
“I’m happy to see you.”
Doyle’s sympathetic smile bloomed like a recording of a time-lapsed flower on fast forward. “Yeah?”
“I’m always happy to see you.” Larkin heard the jazz music cut and he promptly raised the receiver to his ear.
