Let's launch A Fatal Habit!

February is BIRTHDAY MONTH, I'm celebrating MY birthday and A BOOK birthday because A Fatal Habit comes out MONDAY Feb. 16th! I hope you'll join me in celebrating Nun the Wiser Mystery # 3!

How many takes does it take to take a selfie with the party blower extended? SEVEN!

What fun is on tap? 5 DAYS of GIVEAWAYS! February 16 - 20 I'm giving a copy of A Fatal Habit + bonus swag to a lucky winner each day. (The bonus swag is SWEET stuff! You'll get exclusive comic book renderings designed by my middle son plus something super-special!)

To enter do ANY of the following. Each action = an entry to win. Each day = a new chance to win. You can do the same thing each day (like post a review online somewhere each day, or take a book selfie each day and post it)

• Post a book selfie on Instagram or Facebook with ANY Nun the Wiser Mystery--paperback or ebook, reclined or standing, smiling or somber, doesn't matter! Tag or message me so I see it!

• Post a review of ANY Nun the Wiser Mystery on Goodreads, Amazon, Barnes + Noble, or Bookbub. Share your review + message me a link to your review so I can see it!

• Share your enthusiasm for the Nun the Wiser Mysteries with friends on social media and tag/message me so I can see it!

• Make a REEL celebrating the Nun the Wiser Mysteries and message/tag me so I can see it!

• Get someone new to subscribe to my newsletter and message me their name!

THANK YOU for making birthday month extra special for A Fatal Habit by celebrating the Nun the Wiser Mysteries with me!

I'm SO excited to share this new adventure with readers--check out this opening scene:

Sister Bernadette Ohlson anticipated her annual vacation with her best friend more than any other event all year, but before she could leave The Abbey: Senior Living, she had to complete the to-do list she’d written on the back of an old envelope. She’d washed her breakfast dishes and emptied the trash bin beneath her kitchen sink so she wouldn’t return from her trip to Seattle to a foul smell. Her apartment windows were locked, an unnecessary precaution since The Abbey, a senior living facility converted from a Catholic convent and grade school, was in a safe neighborhood. Well, Eugene’s West Jefferson Neighborhood was safe if you didn’t count the murders last fall, which Bernie excused because of the extenuating circumstances. Sometimes she caught herself thinking fondly of her old neighbor, Bruiser Wojcik. She’d written to him three times with updates about his old neighbors at The Abbey, including a long letter detailing what happened with Fern, but Bruiser had never replied.

Remembering these events brought Bernie’s attention to the row of assorted potted plants lined up on the windowsill of her living room. She took them from Toni Travi’s apartment after the police released the crime scene to Meadow Jackson, The Abbey’s building manager. Now she poked her finger into the soil of a philodendron. The plants all looked limp and straggly, they needed more sunshine than late February provided. Bernie pinched off a few wilted leaves and crumpled them in her fist.

“Knock-knock.” Jan Kovitz, a sturdy woman in her late seventies who favored sequined tops and bright lipstick, bustled through Bernie’s open apartment door. “Here’s the neck pillow you asked to borrow.” Jan patted a horseshoe-shaped cushion covered in bright blue fabric. “I only used it a few times and it makes napping in a seat much more comfortable. I slept all the way to Philadelphia for my niece’s wedding thanks to this pillow.” She passed it to Bernie who inspected it with a critical eye. “Did you take your Dramamine yet?”

Jan was Bernie’s best friend at The Abbey, one of Bernie’s favorite dinner companions and a woman who was up for anything. Finding anyone over seventy-five with an adventurous spirit was rare and Bernie appreciated Jan’s willingness to try new experiences.

“I’ve traveled before, Jan,” Bernie reminded her, but she hadn’t taken any Dramamine yet. She really should. “Thank you for the pillow.” She positioned it around her neck and leaned her head to one side to test it out. It did feel comfy.

Jan plopped on the couch and leaned forward to examine the jigsaw puzzle laid out on the coffee table. “Oooh! I found your missing edge piece!” She slid the navy-blue segment into place with a satisfied hum. “What’s this one again?” Jan lifted the box cover.

“Giotto’s Madonna and Child.” Jan had added a bit of Mary’s robe, one of the more difficult sections of the puzzle Bernie was saving for last.

Bernie filled a glass at the kitchen sink and carried it to the houseplants. Her apartment, a former sixth grade classroom, still had its original crown molding and hardwood floors. Her other close friend at The Abbey, Rin Sato, already occupied Bernie’s old classroom by the time she returned to live out her golden years. It hadn’t taken long to make the apartment feel like home with her overflowing bookshelves, a large coffee table for assembling puzzles, and an expensive leather recliner with a floor lamp perfectly situated for evening reading and afternoon naps. Tall windows provided plenty of natural light and a view of The Abbey’s courtyard.

As she watered the plants, Bernie looked outside and saw Cliff Warneke balanced on a stepladder violently pruning the shrubs near the garage. Bernie took credit for brokering Cliff’s arrangement with Meadow to perform odd jobs in exchange for a break on his rent. Meadow needed help keeping the old building in working order and Cliff needed to live here because if he lived alone, he’d sink into a bitter stew of anger and self-pity. Bernie got huge satisfaction from managing people’s affairs. It wasn’t sinful pride. She was good at it, and it made her happy to help. God knows you’re supposed to use your gifts to help others!

“She looks annoyed.” Jan pointed to the picture on the puzzle box. The Virgin Mary’s pale face was tilted away from the baby on her lap. “The artist was crap at painting babies though. Baby Jesus looks like a he’s making a business presentation! He has a widow’s peak!”

Bernie sniffed. Jan was right. The Renaissance painters had no knack for painting babies, their work depicted adults holding smaller, pudgier adults in their laps. Bernie blamed the strangely masculine-looking babies on most of the artists being bachelors. Fathers would know what babies looked like. She’d shared this insight with a museum guide in Italy, and her comment was met with an arched eyebrow. Bernie told Jan what she’d said to the guide that day: “I like to think it’s God’s way of frustrating human attempts at capturing His divinity. Have you ever seen a reproduction of the Christ and thought That’s exactly right?”

Jan’s brow furrowed while she thought about Bernie’s insight before saying, “No. But I haven’t seen that many pictures of Jesus. We Lutherans aren’t into statues and saints like you Catholics are.” Jan paused. “But that Michelangelo made David look pretty fine with his washboard abs and all.” She waggled her eyebrows at Bernie. “Come on, Bernie, just because you’re a nun doesn’t mean you don’t notice men. You know, God created them, too. It’s not a sin to rejoice in all of creation.”

“Bride of Christ, Jan. Bride of Christ.”

Jan flapped her hand dismissively and selected another puzzle piece. She tried wedging it into the edge of Mary’s halo. “Tell me, what do a couple of retired nuns get up to on a girlfriend’s getaway? Strip clubs and skydiving?”

“Eleanor and I visit museums, tour historic sites, hike, and enjoy local culture. We go out to eat and listen to live music when we can. Sometimes we sing karaoke.” It’d been a year since Bernie last saw her old friend and colleague Sister Eleanor Field. She wondered whether Eleanor had fully recovered from her heart procedure last fall. Bernie maintained a regular habit of daily walks which she tracked on a pedometer. Her tall, imposing figure had broadened after menopause, but her weight held steady. According to articles in the AARP monthly magazine, strength training was essential to staying in shape. Meadow bought some kettlebells for the exercise space on the stage of the old sanctuary, and Rin Sato had taken it upon herself to teach everyone basic exercises. Bernie preferred kettlebells to yoga and had worked her way up to curling eight pounds. She wanted to stay strong so she could keep up with Eleanor, who hiked, camped, and climbed for fun—and during their last phone conversation, Eleanor insisted she was back in top form.

“Sounds like fun. I can’t recall the last time you’ve taken a trip.” Jan discarded the puzzle piece and got up to browse the bookshelf near the window.

“Because it’s been over a year.” Bernie had traveled around the world after retiring from teaching and before settling down at The Abbey. She’d come full circle, spending her career working as a middle school English teacher in the building where she now lived as a resident. “I’ve been in a rut all winter, so it’ll be nice to reset myself with this trip.” Bernie tucked Jan’s neck pillow into her tote bag. “Eleanor booked us a room in downtown Seattle. The hotel didn’t look all that fancy online, but it’s expensive for some reason. I guess it’s been a while since I’ve traveled, and I suppose hotel prices suffer inflation like everything else these days.”

It really didn’t matter; she’d pay a fortune to see Eleanor again.