Alicia has been my guest many times. If you haven't already, meet her here!
At ten, Alicia wrote her first romance novel—starring a hero who looked just like Elvis Presley—and she still has the tattered pencil-written copy. A lifelong Oklahoma resident, she grew up in Moore and now lives in Edmond. She is the proud mother of three grown children and surrounded by a strong network of family and friends.
When she’s not reading or writing, Alicia loves Elvis Presley, Major League Baseball, National Football League, and rewatching favorite shows like Dexter, Justified, Friends, Seinfeld, Everybody Loves Raymond, and Breaking Bad. Her favorite authors include Michael Connelly, Dennis Lehane, Lee Child, Lisa Gardner, Ridley Pearson, Joseph Finder, and Jonathan Kellerman.
About WICK'ED WAYS
In quaint Wisteria, Wisconsin, opening a candle shop was supposed to be Paget Ross’s fresh start.
Instead, she’s become the prime suspect in a small-town murder.
After a bitter divorce, Paget leaves Oklahoma behind and buys Lotus and Lights,
a struggling candle shop in the charming town of Wisteria. With creative new
ideas, signature scents, and plenty of determination, she quickly turns the
cozy little store into a local success.
But when a body is discovered inside her shop’s relaxation room, Paget’s new
beginning goes up in smoke.
As whispers spread, suspicion grows, and another murder rocks the town, Paget
realizes someone is targeting everyone connected to the shop—and she may be
next.
To clear her name, Paget must uncover buried secrets, outsmart a killer, and
expose the truth before the next flame is hers.
Excerpt:
She stepped out from behind the counter and moved down the hallway,
stopping at the door of Scents and Solitude. She knocked lightly. “Marco?” she
called. “Time’s up.”
No response.
She frowned.
Maybe he’d fallen asleep. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had done
that. But the buzzer went off in the room. Surely that would have woken him.
She knocked again, a little louder. “Marco?”
Still nothing. A small thread of unease wound through her. She reached
for the handle and opened the door. “Marco, I just wanted to—”
The words died in her throat.
The room was exactly as she’d left it. Muted light. Gentle music. The
candle still flickering steadily.
Marco lay in the recliner. Perfectly still.
At first, her mind tried to make it normal. He’s asleep. That’s all.
But something was wrong. Deeply, unmistakably wrong.
“Marco?” she said again, her voice sounding loud in the still room.
She stepped closer. His head was angled to one side. The mask had slid
off and his eyes were half-open—not focused, not seeing. His lips were tinged
blue.
“Marco?” Her voice cracked.
She reached out and shook him. He didn’t move. Didn’t react. His skin was
cool to the touch…
Paget jerked her hand back. “No,” she whispered. Her pulse roared in her
ears. “No, no, no—” She leaned in again, her fingers trembling as they pressed
lightly against his wrist. No pulse.
