Every Trick in the Book (Novel Idea, #2)

Every Trick in the Book (Novel Idea, #2)

Lucy Arlington



To all librarians.

Thank you for inviting us to enter the world

of books time and time again.





Chapter 1


BY THE MIDDLE OF OCTOBER, THE HEAT AND LASSITUDE of a Southern summer had finally loosed its hold over the quaint, artsy town of Inspiration Valley. Cool air traveled down from the foothills and encouraged the people of North Carolina to search their closets for lightweight sweaters and to spend their weekends at football games or strolling through pumpkin patches in search of the perfect gourd.

Signs of fall were everywhere. Advertisements were stapled to nearly every telephone pole, enticing the public into taking hayrides, attending apple festivals, and purchasing potted mums from the local plant store, the Secret Garden. An electric charge was present in the crisp mornings, and a bowl of warm grits or a cup of hot cider never tasted better. Folks went about their business with a spring in their step.

Although I loved autumn and welcomed the brisk breezes and the harvest moon hung from a canvas of deep indigo, I was too busy to enjoy the season. Having been promoted from a lowly intern two months ago to the position of full-fledged agent at Novel Idea Literary Agency, my schedule was full. I have cherished each and every day in this career. There’s no other job in the world that would give me the chance to discover captivating new voices, unforgettable characters, must-read plotlines, or settings so original and alluring that I long to be transported to the author’s fictional realm on the spot.

And those are just the query letters! I also get to sit at my desk, sipping hot caramel lattes brewed to perfection by Makayla, the talented barista who works downstairs at Espresso Yourself, and delve into a fat pile of manuscripts. Because I represent traditional mysteries and romantic suspense, much of my day is spent reading about intrigues, secrets, and schemes. You’d think that I’d quickly grow tired of those themes, but I haven’t. I love a good murder mystery, no matter what its form.

This autumn, working in conjunction with the town of Inspiration Valley, Novel Idea was on the verge of hosting the area’s first Book and Author Festival. The entire town was dedicated to art in all its forms, and the literary agency, located at the heart of the burg, was one of Inspiration Valley’s most enthusiastic supporters. I was in charge of registration for both the participants and the guest speakers. In addition to this time-consuming assignment, I had to find our agency a new intern, because the woman I’d hired in August to take my place as intern had been forced to accompany her husband in an abrupt job transfer to Minnesota.

This meant that come Monday, my desk and email inbox would be crammed with unfulfilled tasks. Thank goodness today was Saturday and the work I had before me was of the kind I’d been looking forward to for months. Today was moving day.

Most people view this activity as a miserable one. True, it involved plenty of hard labor and emotional stress, but I was giddy with excitement when my son, Trey, pulled up in front of my mother’s house in a borrowed pickup truck.

“Ready to put these guns to good use?” he asked and then flexed his biceps. As usual, he was wearing a T-shirt. Freezing rain could cover the surface of Inspiration Valley and my son would insist that he wasn’t cold.

“Manual labor suits you,” I told him. “If you still have energy after a day of shoveling out the goat pens or chopping wood, you could always hike down the mountain and mow my lawn.”

Trey puffed out his chest, pleased that I’d noticed how strong he’d become since joining the co-op up on Red Fox Mountain. “You won’t have a man around, Mom. So if there’s anything you need, just say the word and I’ll totally be there.”