Is Vera Wong'S Guide To Snooping On A Dead Man Worth Reading?

My husband, Don Axel Thorne, died protecting me in a mob war. I was his widow for six years, until I turned thirty. The old guard of the Family told me it was time to move on. My friends told me to let him go. Even in my dreams, his bloody hands would cup my face, begging me to live again. So I agreed to an arranged marriage. But first, I went to his grave for one last goodbye. I’d just left the cemetery when a post appeared in my feed. [Thanks, hubby, for the six-year anniversary gift! A fifty-million-dollar penthouse in Miami!] My blood ran cold. My hands shook. The phone nearly slipped from my grip. In the photo, the man I buried six years ago was slipping a massive diamond onto another woman's finger. The background was a lavish penthouse. His style. I put my people on it. We had the location in minutes. Drove straight there. I knocked, the door opened, and I froze. The woman standing there was Seraphina. His adoptive sister. The one the Family exiled six years ago for her obsession with him.

I hated the heroine. Now I am her. When nineteen-year-old Ashley slips in the bathroom and dies with popcorn in her hair and a love letter unsent, she wakes up inside the worst romance novel she’s ever read as Arianna Salvatore, the pathetic, weepy female lead she couldn’t stand. The catch? Everyone thinks she faked a suicide attempt to win back Damian, her cruel, emotionally unavailable husband. And her sister? She’s gunning for him next. Ashley wants out. But the book has other plans and if she’s going to survive this twisted love triangle, she’ll have to rewrite the story herself. Goodbye, tragic heroine. Hello, chaos.

Meet Esmerelda Sleuth. Sleuth is her name and investigating is her game. (Paranormal Investigating, that is.) Esmerelda makes a good living as an investigator in a rather progressive firm. She lives a stable and sensible life until she meets Lance; an old money "hottie" who works for a real estate firm next to her building. After accepting an invitation for a weekend getaway party, she quickly discovers that Lance has a secret. He is wealthy. That part is true. And, yes, he's procured a job as a realtor in the building next door. His secret is that he belongs to an underground society of humans who didn't abandon their connection to magic centuries ago when religion declared it evil and he has traveled through time specifically to find her and bring her back to his time to marry him. If that isn't enough of a far fetched tale to absorb, he informs her that she was born in his time to a family belonging to that same secret society and was promised in marriage to him as an infant. When enemies who didn't want to see the union of families take place made attempts on her life, her parents sent her into the future and erased her memories of them as a precaution. Possessing virtually no belief in magic, ghosts, psychics, time travel, etc., it takes some doing on Lance's part to convince her to believe his story and go back with him. When she does, the lies, deceit and attempts on her life start all over again. Will she escape emotionally and physically unscathed? "The Other Side Of the Mirror" is a steamy-paranormal-romance- mystery-thriller and book one of the Esmerelda Sleuth series.

A secret society of widows. A cold billionaire with a deadly past. One woman sent to seduce him... and destroy him. When Genevieve Holloway buries her husband, she thinks the worst is behind her. But the black-veiled woman at the funeral of her husband says otherwise. “You’ve been chosen.” Drawn into a shadowy society of grieving wives turned silent assassins, Genevieve is given one final task before she can walk free: infiltrate the life of Dominic Rourke—the enigmatic tech billionaire tied to her husband’s mysterious death—and expose the truth. Her mission is clear: seduce him. Infiltrate him. Ruin him. But Dominic Rourke is nothing like she expected. Cold. Calculating. Unreachable. And he’s never let any woman get close—until her. Worse still, his five-year-old daughter clings to Genevieve like a lost soul, whispering secrets she shouldn’t know. Secrets about her dead mother… and the club Genevieve now serves. The deeper Genevieve sinks into Dominic’s world, the more dangerous her own becomes. The women she trusted have blood on their hands. The man she was sent to destroy might be innocent. And the lies that bind them all go deeper than any grave. Genevieve begins to develop feelings for the man she’s sent to ruin, and he sees himself letting go of his cold nature to make her happy and find her husband’s killer. In a game of power, seduction, and betrayal, only one can survive. And Genevieve must decide: Is she the hunter or the hunted? Will she be Dominic’s ruin, or will she become his everything?

Three years ago, I was the most promising member of the Scientific Expedition Team. After entering Salakole, I was killed by my fiancé's true love, Vivian Fowler. She stole my supplies, scratched my face, and pushed me off the ship. I died with my second child in my belly. But when the rescue team came, Vivian said I had stolen her supplies and was going to flee. My fiancé, Winston Patton, wrote a report and erased me from the expedition team. From then on, I became a joke. All the people on the team looked down on me. Until three years later, someone discovered my long-frozen body.

The day my husband, Stellan Montclair, was killed in battle, my cousin, Daphne Langford, wept and declared she would follow him in death. No one asked for my opinion. By the time I arrived, they had already decided everything. In seven days, Daphne would be laid to rest alongside my husband in the Montclair family crypt, bearing the title of his lawful wife. When I stepped into the chapel, I found Daphne reclining on a cushioned chair with a damp cloth pressed to her forehead while my mother-in-law, Vivienne Prescott, personally spoon-fed her warm broth. Meanwhile, my son, Ansel Montclair, had been kneeling before the coffin for six hours straight, both legs so swollen that they were trembling. No one told him to get up. No one offered him a cushion to kneel on. Vivienne glanced up at me. "You're back. Daphne's being interred in the Montclair crypt as the lawful wife in seven days. See to the arrangements." In my previous life, I did not dare disobey. The entire capital praised Daphne for the depth of her devotion. Vivienne called her a woman of honor. The moment I so much as furrowed my brow, countless mouths stood ready to call me petty and small-hearted. Yet seven days later, Stellan came back from the dead. Only then did I learn that he had taken a death-feigning potion so that he could openly and rightfully marry Daphne. I was cast from wife to concubine and spent the rest of my life crushed under Daphne's thumb. My son was stripped of his status as the legitimate heir, barred from the family title, and left to scrape by among commoners for the rest of his days. This time, though, I was living it all over again. I crouched down and lifted Ansel from the cold stone floor. Then, I looked at Vivienne. "If her devotion runs that deep, let her be buried with him today."