When people think of flowers they envision vibrant blooms, the fragrant smell of fresh-cut lilies, and dainty blushing pink petals cascading from a towering vase. They don’t typically think of murder.

Neither did I.

When I decided to leave my dead-end job working for a flower wholesaler in the Midwest, I knew that my life was going to change. After years of soul-sucking work with lifeless flowers that had been trucked in from warehouses around the world, I was ready to get back to my roots. I had grown up in Portland, Oregon, affectionately known as the Rose City. My aunt Elin, was one of the city’s most revered floral artists. I had always thought that I would end up back in Portland after attending the prestigious Floral Institute. Instead I landed in frigid Minnesota in a loveless marriage and in a career that stifled my creativity. I had no to blame but myself. I could have left. I wanted to leave.

Fortunately, Chad’s lack of motivation—he’d been “writing” the next great American novel for over ten years—pushed me over the edge. It might also have had something to do with learning that his frequent late-night trips to the library had nothing to do with crafting amazing literary prose and everything to do with a leggy blond. Whatever the cause, it didn’t matter. I was on the next train to Portland and had no intention of looking backwards.

Elin greeted me with open arms and a bouquet from Blooma, her European-inspired flower shop. Blooma was located in Riverplace Village on the banks of the Willamette River. The village is home to a number of restaurants, boutiques, coffeehouses, and the famed RiverPlace Inn. Its cobblestone streets, cherry trees, and riverfront pathways make it a favorite spot for tourists and locals. Elin had brought her Swedish influence to her floral designs. She used natural materials like rustic grapevines and thick forest moss intertwined with variegated purple and white hydrangeas and ivory roses. Her creations were unique and reflected Portland’s abundant outdoor landscapes.

I just hoped that I hadn’t lost my touch. It had been a long time since I had designed a flower arrangement, let alone one as gorgeous as Elin’s.

“Britta, the world of flowers is open for anyone who wishes to see them. You don’t need to worry. Creativity is always within. You simply need to open yourself up to the blooms—let them guide you.”

I followed her advice. I spent the next few weeks immersing myself flowers. I had forgotten how wonderful it felt to have pine residue on my fingertips, and how my clothes were coated in fine layer of pollen. Elin encouraged me to think outside of a traditional vase, offering everything from terra cotta clay pots to Mason jars and barn wood as potential vessels for my creations. We worked side-by-side stripping thorns from roses and tying neat bundles of pansies with twine. I quickly got to know some of Blooma’s regulars as well as the other small business owners in Riverplace Village.

For the first time in a decade I was seeing the world in full-color. Everything in Portland was alive in a kaleidoscope of hues—the towering evergreen trees, peppermint roses snaking up vines, clusters of sun-ripened daffodils pushing up through the ground. This was where I was meant to be. Portland was my floral muse.

Except for one slight problem. Someone had begun leaving black, dead roses by Blooma’s front door. Elin brushed it off at first. But when I found a body stabbed with a pair of her gardening shears things took a turn for the worse. Everything wasn’t coming up roses. I had to figure out who the killer was, because the police had one suspect: Elin.


You can read more about Britta in Natural Thorn Killer, the first book in the NEW “Rose City” mystery series, coming March 27, 2018.

Cut down among the flowers . . .

Britta Johnston might be a late bloomer, but after leaving her deadbeat husband and dead-end job, she’s finally pursuing her artistic passion at her aunt Elin’s floral boutique, Blooma, in Portland, Oregon. It’s on the banks of the Willamette, in a quaint district of cobblestone paths and cherry trees. The wine bar featuring Pacific Northwest vintages is a tasty bonus, offering another kind of bouquet to enjoy. But things aren’t as peaceful as they look.

For one thing, someone’s been leaving dead roses around—and a sleazy real estate developer who wants the waterfront property has put a big-money offer on the table. Then, after a contentious meeting of local business owners, he’s found on the floor of the shop, with Elin’s garden shears planted in his chest. And before the police decide to pin the crime on her beloved aunt, Britta will have to find out who arranged this murder . . .

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Giveaway: Tell us about your favorite flower and leave a comment below for your chance to win a print copy of Natural Thorn Killer. U.S. entries only, please. The giveaway ends March 27, 2018. Good luck everyone!

About the author
Kate Dyer-Seeley (also known as Ellie Alexander) is a Pacific Northwest native. Her love for the Pacific Northwest runs deep. Hence why all of her books (whether she’s writing as Ellie or Kate) are set here. From the Shakespearean hamlet of Ashland, Oregon to the Bavarian village of Leavenworth, Washington to the hipster mecca of Portland, Oregon and a variety of stunning outdoor locales, the Pacific Northwest is a backdrop for every book and almost becomes another character in each series.

All comments are welcomed.