November 1928, New York City. No one can keep a secret like high society – especially when that secret is murder.
There are two things Penelope Harris would rather do than get involved with another murder—sing opera and flirt with Thom Lund. When two tickets ensure Penelope and Thom get some precious time together at the Metropolitan opera, neither believes another murder will interrupt their romantic evening.
Fate has a different plan. Before the night is over a failed manufacturing tycoon is found dead at the bottom of a staircase, his poisoned and dying daughter nearby. Is it an accident? Suicide? Or murder? When a fellow soprano pleads for help, Penelope just can’t help her inquisitive nature.
As Penelope pulls back the cover on a diabolical crime, Lund rushes to complete the investigation of a suicide on the Gold Coast of Long Island. What they find will uncover the sordid underbelly of high society and put Penelope on the wrong side of her own gun.
In the darkness of the Daimler’s back seat, Penelope held her hands together to keep herself calm, valiantly resisting the urge to lean over the middle seat and stare up as the magnificent building as it came into view. The Metropolitan Opera! It took all her resolve not to stare like a child at a candy counter. It was Mary who suggested they avoid the well-lighted street entrance complete with red carpet and a crowd of newspaper reporters. “It’s the photographers, Penelope. They’ll fall over themselves to get a picture of you.”
Penelope shuddered, pulling the borrowed opera coat close. “Are we sneaking in the back way?”
“There is no back way into the Metropolitan,” Mary proclaimed with exaggerated hauteur. “But there might be a way around the photographers if we’re lucky. You can drop us here, Parker.” Mary scooted across the back seat, opened the back door herself, much to Parker’s astonishment, and stepped out of the car.
Penelope leaned forward across the seat. “Parker, do the photographers know this is the Staughton car?”
“They might,” he admitted.
“Could you stay in the line until you reach the red carpet, stop, and open the door as though we are in the back seat?” Penelope lifted her voice hopefully.
Parker tipped his hat. “Of course, miss.”
Penelope smiled and slipped out of the back seat to stand next to Mary on the sidewalk. Her eyes swept up the plain building rising eight stories above them. It didn’t look like the outside of any opera house she had ever seen before. An ornate façade was flanked on either side by what appeared to be apartments. Many of the windows were lit with the occupants watching the crowd in the street. For a moment, Penelope wondered if they were in the right place.
Mary took her arm. “Have you ever done anything like this?”
“Like what?” Penelope pulled her attention away from the windows and returned it to the phalanx of photographers grouped around the ornate brass doors.
“Gone to the theater alone.”
Penelope was at a loss for words. She had done a dozen things young society women weren’t supposed to—driven a car, sung Jazz, operated a casino, eloped. Most nights in Shanghai she had run the Jade Tiger from the casino floor, Kinkaid too drunk or too bored to cope with the day-to-day attention the business needed. She had done so many things on her own that it was hard to list them all. While her cousin, she realized, had likely never gone anywhere without a male escort—unless it was a tea party or a fashion salon.
Mary blushed. “You’ve probably done this a hundred times at least. Silly of me.”
“Mary Staughton! I’m not that jaded.” Penelope put her nose in the air and intoned, “Young lady, you are not allowed to go to the opera alone! Your brother will be happy to take you.” She hoped urgently Mary didn’t notice her crossed fingers.
Mary giggled happily. “Does James like the opera?”
“He loathes it.” Penelope smiled at the thought of her brother as she watched the cars pull along slowly. She pulled Mary alongside her, habit putting them both in the shadow of a decorative column carved into the building portico. They weren’t quite close enough to make a dash for the entrance—the photographers were sure to see them as soon as they stepped into the light. Penelope kept her eye on Parker behind the wheel as the Daimler neared the photographers gathered around the red carpet.
“Parker’s still in the line!” “Yes,” Penelope kept her eyes on the car, “Let’s wait here and watch.” They edged closer to the shadow of the building. Whispering began as the Daimler closed in. The photographers got ready, each hoping to get the jump on the others. But they were too orderly, Penelope thought. She and Mary would need a bigger distraction to cover their entrance. She thought fast. It wasn’t so long ago there had been a paid bounty on a photo of Penelope or Mary. Rumors persisted that there still was. Penelope had an idea. “Say,” she called out “isn’t that the Staughton car?” The effect was immediate. Just as Parker rolled up to the carpet, the photographers began pushing one another to get nearer to the car door spilling onto the red carpet and knocking over the brass stations holding the rope. As the photographers pushed past one another trying to get the shot, the cousins edged around the crowd and slipped through the door, cutting off the noise and exhaust from the street as it closed behind them. They stepped up one of the carved marble staircases on either side of the entrance and into the hushed golden light of the interior.
Author of the Penelope Harris Mysteries, E.W. Cooper was ecstatic to learn her debut in the series, The Jade Tiger, was the 2020 Booklife Prize Finalist in Mystery/Thriller. A lifelong fan of classic mysteries and Grand Opera, Ms. Cooper is hard at work on the second book in the Penelope Harris Mystery series, Murder at the Met (April 2021). She lives quietly with her partner, children, three dogs, and one cat in a very noisy house in South Texas.
To learn more about Penelope Harris Mysteries (and the author) go to www.ewcooper.com and snoop around.
Title: Scorn of Secrets Author: B. Truly Genre: Young Adult Contemporary Romance
I must keep it locked away—the memory of my darkest secret….
When the rising tides of my life peak, I’m left struggling with the currents of the storm. The first dilemma is my dad’s gambling debt. Mama bounces back quickly from the ramifications it causes. She proves this by getting a new man. Her Rico Suave is just the tip of the iceberg—she moves us across state to live with him and his two sons.
My outgoing, older sister fits right in—she’s the total opposite of me. I am Madison Guillory, the shy, quiet type. Taught to make the best of even the worst situations, I contemplate giving my new family a chance.
Living with my future stepbrothers is interesting, to say the least. They’re like night and day. I have more in common with the laid-back brother, and we become instant friends. I’m adjusting to Taylor High, and the arrogant brother is even starting to grow on me. Maybe everything will work out after all.
My life finally seems to be falling into place until a dreadful night shatters my dreams. My world is flipped upside down because of the consequences I must now bear.
The memories of that night lurk in the shadows to torment me. If I think of what happened, I’ll succumb to my fear. His face has scorned me. No one will believe me if I confess, not even my own sister. I hold the key to my darkest secret, desperate to keep it locked away.
The trip to the airport terminal is rimmed in silence. Gigi is driving us. She’s been supportive, saying encouraging words like, “it will all work out” and “everything happens for a reason.”Deep down, I don’t think Gigi is thrilled about us leaving. But she probably feels it’s not a bad idea for us to get out of town, worried about the robbery and how my father was murdered.
The airport is busy, and it takes a while to check in. Gigi waits with us until they announce its time for us to board our plane. Gigi hugs Tanya first, then she embraces Mama, who pats her back awkwardly. Charlotte has never been the touchy type—Regan being the exception these days. She is all over him whenever they’re together.
Gigi hugs me next. “Take care of yourself, Madison.”
“I’m going miss you, Gigi.”
“I’ll miss you, too, dear. Just be yourself and everything will be fine.” Her lips curve upward, not reaching her eyes. “It won’t be as bad as you think. Just remember life is what you make of it.”
Gigi has always taught me to roll with the punches. “I’ll try to make the best of it.”
“That’s the spirit. Call me when you get settled.”
I wave good-bye, then head to the check-in line to board.
Our seats are all together. Mama and Tanya are out like a light not long after we take off. My mind is too busy to sleep. I ponder on my new life. A new home, father figure and, basically, stepbrothers. Ugh! Everything is so foreign and causes my stomach to roil. Staring out the window, I study the white puffs of vapor. Clouds can form countless shapes. There are so many possibilities. I imagine them to be what my life could be if my father hadn’t died and I got to stay in Baton Rouge. The thoughts keep my mind off what’s to come, imagining my life turning out with a happy ending.
My daydream is a fantasy and reality sets in when the plane starts to land.
B. Truly has wanted to be an author since she was fifteen years old. She is grateful to have accomplished this dream. B. Truly has very vivid dreams and a wild imagination. She likes to read, watch tons of TV shows, and movies. She’s addicted to romance and gets a thrill out of suspense and sci-fi. She writes young adult, new adult, and adult romance, sci-fi, dystopian, and paranormal genres.
B. Truly likes to explore conflicted plots of romance with thrilling twists. She also loves creating impossible situations for her characters to grow from and try to overcome.
B. Truly has three wonderful children, and a husband who defines the person that she is today. She works full-time as an Ultrasound technologist in Houston, Texas.
“And just where do you think you’re going?” a deep voice slurred from somewhere near the door. I didn’t need to look up to know who it was.
“I’m going home, Silas,” I said, fighting back the tears that were threatening to run down my face as I tried to fit too many textbooks into my backpack.
“Like fuck you are,” he said, making his way toward me.
I stood to my full height and looked at him. My heart dropped at seeing him this way. “Silas, you’re drunk.” I could smell the marijuana coming off of him in waves. “And probably high. You should call it a night.”
I didn’t know why I was trying to give him advice. I should have told him to go fuck himself and be done with it.
“I’ll call it a night if you call it one with me,” he drawled, moving in closer to me.
“Get away from me, Silas,” I said, trying to feign confidence but he just laughed.
“You don’t want that, Sky. I saw the way you looked at me. The way you looked at her. You wanted that to be you, hm?”
I didn’t think his comment warranted a response. Either that or I was too choked up to say something back. I picked up my backpack and tried to lift it onto my shoulders, but even in his inebriated state he was quick. The bag tumbled to the floor as he pushed it away and I felt my back press into the wall behind me.
“Admit it, Sky. You. Want. Me.” He was so close to me now. His lips were ghosting against my neck and his hand was pressing against my hip.
I hated this.
I hated him.
I hated the way he made me feel.
And I hated the way he smelled like someone else’s perfume.
“I can smell her on you,” I seethed at him through grit teeth.
He pulled back, lifting his face so that his eyes were even with mine. His fingers moved up, making me shiver on their ascent before pinching my chin. I grimaced as I wondered whether it was the hand that had, minutes before, been knuckle deep in another woman’s cunt.
“You wish it were you, don’t you?” he drawled.
“No,” I bit back, but I was a fucking liar. Truth was, I wanted Silas. I wanted him bad. And I wanted him all to myself. I didn’t want to share him. Not with some bimbo. Not with anyone. I loved the way him and I had developed our study routine. I loved that out of everyone in his life, except for maybe his mother, I knew him the best. He had hot edges and a frozen center, but at least I knew all the secrets he kept hidden there were for me and me alone. But I didn’t know how to say any of this. Worse than that, I didn’t know how to admit any of this. I hated and wanted him at the same time. He said I was a contradiction but that was only because he tore me in two.
Writer of all things untamed, romantic and free, Ivy Wild never planned on becoming a romance novelist. In fact, she hated romance as a kid and was quite proud of that fact. Basically, life is weird.
Married to her own alpha hero, she currently lives in various places of the world at various times thanks to his military career.
