Samantha Bowers Mysteries Series

Samantha took a taxi from the SkyTrain terminal to Chinatown that blustery night. She was happy with the progress she’d made on her novel in the two weeks she’d been away. But the breakup with Don when she’d left had not gone well, and she cringed at the thought of having to deal with his temper again. Tired and soaked to the skin, Samantha climbed the stairs to her friend’s apartment. The door stood ajar, which was curious. Siobhan should have been at work. When Samantha peered in, she could just see the outline of two ominous figures skulking in the gloom. She gasped and slammed the door shut. She could hear their muffled shouts as she flew, screaming, down the stairs into the street. Gripped with fear, and shielding her face from the driving rain, Samantha dodged between jousting umbrellas and the spray from the headlong rush of the traffic that threatened to thwart her escape.

Murder by Bits and Bytes   Could anything keep the memory of murder and terror buried in the cellar of Samantha's mind?   Ben had promised to unplug this weekend—he would leave the Bach House Vineyards IT project at the office. Samantha showered in the glow of anticipation of this romantic getaway, oblivious to what awaited her. How could she know she would spend it alone? When Ben glanced at the wine and flowers on the passenger seat with his computer bag, he grinned to himself, knowing he would arrive at the cottage well before Sam with time to get the fireplace crackling and the chill off the sheets. He hoped Gerry would make himself scarce after dropping off his drawings for Sam. Ben's cell phone buzzed and went to voicemail. Gerry was still there? His voice was jagged; his message cryptic, ending with an abrupt click. Ben shivered. A creeping sense of foreboding turned Ben's knuckles white as he accelerated through traffic. Something was very, very wrong at the cottage.

Murder by Pins and Needles The Life and Death of Love, Loyalty and Betrayal Until she saw the horror on Ben’s face, it hadn’t occurred to Samantha that a menacing murder of crows had congregated in this Attic Windows quilt. It gave her pause to examine it more closely, and what she discovered gave her chills. Who was this woman, L. Bennett, so tormented by suspicion she hid clues to her own murder in a quilt for her son, Nicky? Or was it a daughter? Was she murdered or is she alive, steeped in paranoia?