Sometimes my head spins when I think about the changes that have occurred in my life over the last year. Twelve months ago I was living the American Dream with my husband, two great kids, a home in the suburbs, and a job I loved. The one fly in the ointment was my cantankerous communist mother-in-law who was living with us while she recuperated from a hit-and-run, but Karl, my husband, had assured me her stay was temporary. He didn’t want her in our home anymore than I did.

Then Karl dropped dead in Las Vegas, and life has never been the same. I felt like such a cliché—the clueless wife who knew nothing of her husband’s affair. Only Karl’s affair had been with Lady Luck, and his luck had run out. He left me, not only permanently stuck with his mother but also his loan shark, having gambled away everything—including money we didn’t have. The loan shark didn’t care, which I’ve since learned is SOP—standard operating procedure—for loan sharks. Being a Jersey girl, you’d think I would have known that.

You might also think all of the above would be enough of a triple whammy for any clueless wife, right? Far from it. Ever since Karl’s death, the dead bodies keep piling up around me, and I’ve found myself with a second career as a reluctant amateur sleuth. It was either that or wind up railroaded for a murder I didn’t commit shortly after Karl’s death.

You know the old saying, if you want something done and done right, do it yourself? I’ve learned the hard way that “most likely suspect” and “actual killer” are often far from one and the same. However, too often law enforcement zeroes in on the former without digging further to find the latter. Since that first murder, there have been more dead bodies throughout the year, so many that I’ve lost count, not to mention nearly losing my own life on several occasions.

I also discovered my husband had a half-brother he never knew about. Ira Pollack knocked on my door one day and proceeded to worm his way into our lives. He’s both very wealthy and very needy, the sort who thinks money can buy anything, including love and friendship. He’s a widower with three extremely spoiled kids and has recently bought a home way too near me. I liked him a lot better when he lived on the other side of the state. True, New Jersey is not a very wide state, but an hour away was definitely preferable to a five-minute drive through town.

And speaking of all those dead bodies that keep popping up around me, one of them just landed in the Santa sleigh on Ira’s front lawn. Of course, the police think Ira had something to do with it, which makes no sense at all. If you had killed someone, would you leave the body in your own yard? The detective on the case, who usually has a grudging respect for my sleuthing abilities, suggested Ira had done so for the simple reason that by doing so, no one would suspect him. I’m not buying the reverse psychology theory.

Anyway now Ira is begging me to find the real killer. If I don’t get involved, I’m afraid I’ll be stuck with his three kids while he cools his heels in prison for decades. But I recently promised my own sons I’d leave the investigating to the professionals. They’ve already lost their father. I can’t keep putting my own life in jeopardy.

I’d say I need a vacation but the last time I had one, I wound up kidnapped in Barcelona. I’m seriously considering pulling the quilt over my head and going back to sleep for the next decade—except the parrot needs feeding, the dog needs walking, and my bladder will never hold out another ten minutes, let alone ten years. I guess it’s time to catch another killer. I love my sons, which is why I’d never subject them to living with their half-cousins. For that reason alone, I think they’ll understand.

You can read about Anastasia in Handmade-Ho-Ho-Homicide, the eighth book in the “Anastasia Pollack Crafting” cozy mystery series, released October 1, 2019.

Two and a half weeks ago magazine crafts editor Anastasia Pollack arrived home to find Ira Pollack, her half-brother-in-law, had blinged out her home with enough Christmas lights to rival Rockefeller Center. Now he’s crammed her small yard with enormous cavorting inflatable characters. She and photojournalist boyfriend (and possible spy) Zack Barnes pack up the unwanted lawn decorations to return to Ira. They arrive to find his yard the scene of an over-the-top Christmas extravaganza. His neighbors are not happy with the animatronics, laser light show, and blaring music creating traffic jams on their normally quiet street. One of them expresses his displeasure with his fists before running off.

In the excitement, the deflated lawn ornaments are never returned to Ira. The next morning Anastasia once again heads to his house before work to drop them off. When she arrives, she discovers Ira’s attacker dead in Santa’s sleigh. Ira becomes the prime suspect in the man’s murder and begs Anastasia to help clear his name. But Anastasia has promised her sons she’ll keep her nose out of police business. What’s a reluctant amateur sleuth to do?

Christmas craft projects included.

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About the author
USA Today bestselling and award-winning author Lois Winston writes mystery, romance, romantic suspense, chick lit, women’s fiction, children’s chapter books, and nonfiction under her own name and her Emma Carlyle pen name. Kirkus Reviews dubbed her critically acclaimed Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery series, “North Jersey’s more mature answer to Stephanie Plum.” In addition, Lois is a former literary agent and an award-winning craft and needlework designer who often draws much of her source material for both her characters and plots from her experiences in the crafts industry.

To learn more about Lois, visit her website at website and sign-up for her newsletter, or visit her Killer Crafts & Crafty Killers blog. Also visit Lois on the following social media websites: Twitter, Pinterest, BookBub, or Goodreads.

All comments are welcomed.