Pride and Premeditation - SIGNED hardcover luxe edition

"I have my doubts about the sagacity of this plan,” Morrie said as he hitched a pile of pillows under his arm.

“If your sagacity is so offended, you don’t have to come with us,” I reminded him, tying back my hair and smoothing down the front of my Snoopy pajamas. “You could go back downstairs and
finish off that display I started for the Argleton Jane Austen Festival.”

“Don’t joke, gorgeous. This room has confounded me since I arrived in your world. I won’t be tying ribbons around frivolous books while the rest of you discern its secrets.” Morrie reached under my shirt and rolled my nipple between his
fingers. “Besides which, the opportunity to spend the night with you should never be overlooked.”

“Jane Austen isn’t frivolous,” I shot back, grabbing his wrist and twisting it, so his hand slid off my nipple and I could think straight again. “You shouldn’t say things like that around Argleton right now. The whole village has gone Austen-mad.”

It was true. Ten years ago, a famous local scholar by the name of Algernon Hathaway discovered a record of Jane Austen spending a Christmas at Baddesley Hall, the grandest of the grand stately homes overlooking Argleton, now owned by the Lachlans. Ever since the discovery of their famous temporary resident, the village has celebrated with an annual Regency Christmas festival that has grown ever more elaborate over the years. There were tea parties, dramatic readings, a costume promenade, and a Regency-style dance at the community hall, as well as a book drive where villagers donated reading materials to poor children.

This year, the Lachlans were even hosting the Jane Austen Experience – an academic conference and immersive event where guests paid hundreds of pounds to stay at Baddesley Hall for a weekend, dress up in silly costumes, attend fancy balls and tea parties, and go about proposing marriage to each other. This year, the famous scholar Professor Hathaway himself was the guest of honor.

Of course, Heathcliff wanted nothing to do with the Jane Austen Festival. He rebuffed all my clever ideas – hosting Professor Hathaway for a free public lecture in the World History room, putting together a Pride & Prejudice quiz night, dressing Quoth up in a tiny bird-sized bonnet (actually, Quoth was the one who vetoed that one). Heathcliff’s blatant lack of mercantile interest was probably why he’d suggested the eve of the festival to make good on my idea to spend the night in the magical room and attempt to discern its secrets.

“I’ll say what I please,” Morrie winked at me as he affected a posh accent. His hand slid beneath my shirt again. “You haven’t minded before.”

No, I don’t mind at all. Morrie’s lips fluttered along the edge of my neck. His hand cupped my breast, the
fingers pinching and teasing my nipple. If this is any indication of what tonight might offer, the past better watch out—

“Out of the way, lovebirds,” Heathcliff bellowed from his bedroom. A moment later, an enormous brown duvet sailed through his doorway and slammed into the wall above our heads. I tore myself from Morrie’s embrace and leaped away as it slid to the floor to join the large pile of Heathcliff’s stuff already piled against the door.

He’s hoping we don’t emerge again until next week.

“We’d better take this elsewhere, in case Sir Pricklyton starts throwing his whisky bottles.” Morrie led me aside, his hand skimming the small of my back in a possessive way that made my heart flutter.

Morrie’s lips had barely grazed mine when we were interrupted again. Quoth clattered down from his attic room with his gear. As usual, he wore the minimum amount of clothes – in this case, a pair of black boxers that left nothing to the imagination. I wet my bottom lip. How was I going to survive the night with all three of them without things devolving into a Bacchanalian orgy?

Why did the thought of a Bacchanalian orgy with the three of them make heat pool between my legs?

Remember why we’re doing this. Don’t get distracted by Quoth’s beautiful eyes or Heathcliff’s strong hands or Morrie’s wandering tongue—

“This is all I need.” Quoth handed me a bag of berries. I tucked it into my snack pack and emergency supplies.

“You sure we should bring along all this gear?” Morrie frowned at the tote bags I’d stuffed with dehydrated food, a camping stove, water bottles, emergency flares, and boxes of tampons. Heathcliff wasn’t the only one in Girl Scout mode. “It’s not very conspicuous, or very historical.”

“There’s no telling what we’re going to encounter on the other side and how long it’s going to take us to get the door open again into the present day. I want to be prepared for anything.”

“Agreed.” Heathcliff stumbled out of his room. Under one arm, he carried three bottles of whisky and a package of Wagon Wheels. Under the other, a long, pointed sword with an elaborate hilt.

“What are you going to do with that thing?” Morrie frowned at the sword.

“Roast marshmallows,” Heathcliff grunted. He shoved his bottles into my bag, tucked the sword into a scabbard on his belt, and pulled out his key. “Are we doing this or not?”

I nodded. We needed answers, and the only way to
find them was to unravel the secrets of Nevermore Bookshop, starting with the room that traveled through time… or something.

Morrie smoothed down the collar of his Armani pajamas. “Which room do you think we’ll see on the other side? I propose a wager – the loser has to clean the bathroom. I’m hoping for a Regency boudoir, complete with Edward VII’s infamous Le Chabanais sex chair.”

“I vote the empty attic,” Heathcliff said.

“Of course you do.”

“I want Herman Strepel’s offi
ces,” I added. “But I’m not participating in this bet, because there is no way in Hades you’re getting me to even step foot in that bathroom.”

“I’m hoping for dinosaurs,” Quoth added.

“You’re hoping for dinosaurs? You’re an idiot. Good thing Heathcliff has his sword.” Morrie grabbed the key from Heathcliff and shoved it in the lock. I blanched at his insult, although Quoth didn’t seem to care. The last couple of weeks, Morrie’s comments to all of us – usually friendly teasing – had become more barbed. It was as if he wanted to keep reassuring all of us he didn’t really care about us, that he thought himself superior in every way. It was starting to wear me down a little, especially when he did it to Quoth, who never snapped back and seemed to internalize every comment.

The door turned with an ominous click. Morrie stepped back and gestured to the door. “After you, gorgeous. This was your clever idea.”

Yes, it was. And if it gets us closer to
figuring out what’s happening in this shop, you’ll be thanking me.

I sucked in a breath and pushed the door open.

Nevermore Bookshop Mysteries
Book 1 - A Dead and Stormy Night
Book 2 - Of Mice and Murder
Book 3 - Pride and Premeditation
Book 4 - Memoirs of a Garroter
Book 5 - Prose and Cons
Book 6 - A Novel Way to Die
Book 7 - Much Ado About Murder
Book 8 - Crime and Publishing
Book 9 - Plot and Bothered
Novella - How Heathcliff Stole Christmas