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    Yuletide Perils: Starstruck, #9
    Yuletide Perils: Starstruck, #9
    Yuletide Perils: Starstruck, #9
    Ebook140 pages2 hours

    Yuletide Perils: Starstruck, #9

    By Brenda Hiatt

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    About this ebook

    It's beginning to look a lot like… murder?

     

    When another customer unexpectedly drops dead while Rigel is picking up M's Christmas present, foul play is suspected. But only Rigel realizes that whatever killed the obnoxious old woman was intended for him, instead! He calls upon the other members of the newly-formed Bond Squad to help him unravel the mystery before the killer tries again. A lighthearted holiday murder mystery novella set in the quirky small town of Jewel, Indiana, where things aren't always as they seem.

     

    This novella is book 9 in the Starstruck Series and takes place in between Convergent and Unraveling the Stars

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBrenda Hiatt
    Release dateMar 14, 2023
    ISBN9781947205284
    Yuletide Perils: Starstruck, #9
    Author

    Brenda Hiatt

    Brenda Hiatt is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than two dozen novels (so far), including historical romance, traditional Regency romance, time travel romance, and young adult science fiction romance. In addition to writing, Brenda is passionate about embracing life to the fullest, to include scuba diving (she has over 60 dives to her credit), Taekwondo (where she is currently pursuing her 4th degree black belt), hiking, traveling...and reading, of course!

    Read more from Brenda Hiatt

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      Book preview

      Yuletide Perils - Brenda Hiatt

      1

      If the Fates allow

      M

      I settle into Rigel’s arms with a happy sigh as the last slow dance begins, signaling the end of Jewel High’s Winter Formal. I’ve had a wonderful time tonight with Rigel and the other four members of our newly-formed Bond Squad—a fitting reward after the harrowing events of last weekend. All six of us put our lives on the line, defying impossible odds by using our combined powers to avert a terrible disaster.

      I’ll say. How many times have we come crazy close to dying now? Rigel thinks to me, using the special telepathy our graell bond allows.

      Individually? Or together?

      His chuckle vibrates against my cheek, pressed to his chest. Combined, at least half a dozen. I’d say we’ve earned a break, he silently declares. Hopefully a good, long one!

      I wholeheartedly agree.

      As the music winds down, I take a last look around the paper-snowflake-festooned high school gym—an oasis of normalcy amid what too often feels like a scary sci-fi novel. Whatever happens after I graduate high school in another year and a half, I’ll miss moments like these.

      Still, a thread of worry mars my contentment when my wandering gaze falls on my oldest friend, Brianna Morrison. She’s partnered tonight by Liam Walsh, one of the newer Echtran students. A few feet away Debbi Andrews, my other best Duchas friend, is dancing with Liam’s twin brother, Lucas.

      Yesterday, when Bri and Deb told me about their dates, I barely hid my shock. I knew they’d asked Kira to drop hints to the Walsh boys, but I didn’t think she really would. Or that the guys would follow through if she did. I wonder now if my friends would look as happy if they knew their dates recently moved here from Mars? Not that I, or anyone else, will tell them that.

      Given that, I can’t imagine either couple’s relationships will progress much past a single dance date. Especially since Bri confided to me that Lucas had to be persuaded by Liam to ask Deb to the dance. Not surprising. Lucas strikes me as more level-headed than his brother, who tends to be rather impulsive. Like Bri.

      On that thought, I glance over at the only other Echtran-Duchas pair in the room—Alan Dempsey and Trina Squires. Two weeks ago, I half-jokingly suggested Molly and Tristan nudge those two toward each other, to test their new bond-enhanced persuasive abilities. It obviously worked. But now, seeing Trina’s besotted smile and Alan’s slightly warier one, I realize that might not have been the best idea.

      Looking back at Bri and Deb and their dates, my concern there mostly dissipates. They all seem happy tonight, and neither Walsh brother is the type to lead a girl on, knowing things can’t really go anywhere. I trust even Liam to let Bri down easily, if necessary—unlike jerk-face Gary Chambers, who actually admitted he dumped her because she’s biracial.

      I just hope—

      I break off that thought when I notice Rigel smiling down at me with a knowing look. I smile back.

      That’s better, he thinks to me. I know you tend to borrow trouble, but don’t do it tonight, okay? Especially about something as trivial as your friends’ love lives, or lack thereof.

      You’re right, I reply. Anyway, winter break starts tomorrow, so I don’t need to worry about things getting out of hand there for at least two weeks. Right now, I’d much rather focus on my own love life.

      I tilt my face up for a kiss and Rigel willingly obliges me, obliterating all other thoughts until he raises his head.

      But then I regard him curiously. You’re keeping some kind of secret from me, aren’t you? I thought I sensed it earlier, but now I’m sure.

      He gives me a sheepish grin. Sometimes I wish I were better at controlling my thoughts around you. Okay, yes, I am keeping a secret—but it’s the good kind.

      Good kind? I ask doubtfully.

      "You do realize it’s only a few days till Christmas, don’t you? Amusement sparkles in his gorgeous hazel eyes. People are allowed to have a few secrets this time of year. You’ll find out what it is next week."

      I sense a trace of insecurity in those last words, so quickly assure him I’ll love it, no matter what it is. Though never as much as I love you, I add.

      Rigel lowers his lips to mine and we finish out the dance with another wonderful kiss.

      2

      We won’t go until we get some

      Rigel

      Diamond Street is mobbed. I figured it would be, just two days before Christmas. Because Jewel, Indiana is known for its custom jewelry and artisan craft shops, people come here from all over the state to do last-minute shopping. But this is what I get for waiting so long to commission M’s Christmas present from Glitterby’s.

      I hoped it would be ready sooner but they got so backed up, it was only this morning they called to say it’s ready for me to pick up. So here I am in the middle of this mob scene, slowly making my way along the crowded sidewalk past Belinda’s Books, Quilt World and the Jewel Art Gallery. As I go, I pick up brath from more than one Echtran—not surprising, since nearly two hundred of us live in Jewel now.

      Even though there shouldn’t be any dangerous Echtrans in Jewel now, I still glance at each one I sense, just in case. Though how I’d be able to tell, I don’t know. It’s only when M and I are touching that I can tap into her ability to sense emotions and intentions. By myself, all I can do is gauge expressions and make best guesses.

      Maybe when M and I meet at Dream Cream in about twenty minutes, we should try a more thorough probe for anyone in town with evil on their mind. Just to be safe.

      I finally reach Glitterby’s, which is as packed as the street outside. I should have expected this, too, since their glass and crystal art and jewelry probably make great gifts. M ordered my Orion dreamcatcher from here for my birthday last year. Which is what inspired my idea for her Christmas present this year.

      Now, now, Gladys, old Agatha Payton, the proprietor, is saying to a woman at the counter as I come through the door. Just one bag of beignets per purchase. And no, I can’t sell you more, sorry. I’m not licensed to sell food here, so all I can do is offer my famous beignets as little extras—lagniappes, as they say in New Orleans—to boost business.

      Famous? Hah! someone else in line for the register scoffs. Only in your own mind, Agatha.

      The shop owner glares at the scoffer, a woman who looks nearly as old as Agatha herself, despite her improbably bright red hair. That’s enough out of you, Ethel Ann, she snaps. Every year you run down my beignets, but every year you want more than your share.

      The redheaded woman just snorts and shakes her head, turning away to look at a purple glass statuette of an orchid on a nearby shelf.

      Everybody knows I make the best beignets in Indiana, Agatha continues, jutting out her chin. Spent a whole year in New Orleans when I was a young thing, I did. Learned the trick from a handsome fellow who worked at the Café du Monde itself.

      Several customers immediately pipe up to say how much they look forward to Agatha’s beignets every year. Why, it wouldn’t be Christmas time without them, the woman at the register declares.

      Thank you, dearie. Agatha smiles. Now, is this all you need today? I can giftwrap it if you want to come back.

      No, I’ll wrap it myself at home, thanks. I need to be going.

      Nodding, Agatha rolls the two glass vases in tissue and puts them in a bag. Here you are, then. And your beignets, of course! She hands the woman a little bag of red cellophane, through which three things that look like powdered-sugar doughnut holes are visible. Enjoy!

      The line’s still long as I take my place at the end of it. I’m starting to worry I’ll be late to meet M when old Agatha spots me.

      Hey there, Rigel! she calls out. That’s right, everyone, I’m on a first name basis with Jewel High’s star quarterback there. I’ve got your package right over here, all wrapped and ready. She points at a small collection of gaily wrapped boxes on a table near the register, each topped by a red cellophane bag tied with a green ribbon.

      Star or not, he can wait his turn to pay like the rest of us, the woman in front of me complains—the same red-haired one who scoffed before.

      Agatha grimaces at her. Ethel Ann, I’ve been telling you for twenty years that if you don’t like the way I run my business, you’re more than welcome to shop elsewhere. But anything to get you out of my store quicker. Here, you can be next, then I’ll be free to enjoy the company of this handsome young man without your impertinence.

      With a self-satisfied smile, Ethel Ann steps up to the cash register with an armful of glass knick-knacks. Once they’re wrapped and rung up, she digs a credit card out of her purse.

      Your prices are highway robbery, you know that, Agatha, she comments sourly, shaking her head. Nearly two hundred dollars for a bunch of stuff that’ll probably break in shipping anyway. She snorts. Now, where are my beignets?

      Agatha’s eyebrows go up. What, the ones you said are no good? I figured you wouldn’t want any.

      They’re at least edible, Ethel Ann allows. "Honestly, as much money as I spend here, I ought to get two bags. You at least owe me one."

      "Guess you plan to literally eat your words, then, eh? Agatha lets out a cackle. But if that’s what it’ll take to get you out the door, fine."

      Reaching over, Agatha plucks the cellophane bag off the top of M’s little gift box, removes the sticker with my name, and hands it to the woman. Serve you right if you choke on one. Then she

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