Romantic Suspense Author

SPOTLIGHT ON:

Brenda Whiteside

All About Brenda

Brenda Whiteside is the author of suspenseful, action-adventure stories with a touch of romance. Mostly. She and her husband are gypsies at heart having lived in six states and two countries. For now, they’ve settled in Central Arizona, but won’t discount the possibility of another move in their future. They share their home with a rescue dog named Amigo. While FDW is fishing, Brenda writes.

Mystery on Spirit Mountain

Release Date:

September 15, 2021

Publisher:

Brenda Whiteside

Cover Design:

Alison Henderson

Welcome Brenda to Jeny's TattleTales

Today we are spotlighting Brenda's upcoming romantic suspense book Mystery on Spirit Mountain, which will be released on 09/15/2021. This book is part of the Mackenzie Chronicle series.

Mystery on Spirit Mountain Blurb & Excerpts

There are certain places in the world that exist on a different plane. These areas possess elements of mystical proportions. The town appears quite normal to most of us, but some people can tune into those properties.

I’m not delving into the supernatural, but rather those feelings and sensations we all have and usually shrug off. Déjà vu, intuition, coincidence. The MacKenzie family members don’t ignore such revelations.

What if a man’s ability to sense the history of a house reveals his family’s connection to an unsolved murder?

The MacKenzie Chronicles is a romantic suspense series set in Joshua, Arizona. Residents love to hype the ghost town reputation. Joshua was a turn of the century mining town left to the ghosts when the mines dried up. In the sixties, hippies descended on the town, turning it into an artist’s haven. Present-day Joshua is inhabited by those old hippies and their offspring who have made the town a tourist mecca.

Dark family secrets and a stormy, friends-to-lovers relationship lead Harlan MacKenzie on a treacherous path in book two of the series, Mystery on Spirit Mountain, releasing September 15. If you preorder now, you can reserve your copy at a special price.

The past never sleeps.
The truth never dies.

Only Harlan MacKenzie can sense the troubled history of the Big Purple House. When he’s hired to restore the historical mansion, he doesn’t foresee the secrets—secrets that entangle his family in deceit and murder.

Phaedra is selling the house that has been in her family for decades. As her friends-to-lovers relationship with Harlan escalates, she puts her values on the line and chances losing him.

After a stranger comes to town, weaving her web of deception, hell-bent on correcting an old grievance connected to the house, dark revelations of the past implode the present. Harlan and Phaedra are thrown on a dangerous path, not only risking love but possibly their lives.

Excerpt 1

He pivoted, glanced at the chandelier, and experienced the same sense of need as yesterday. A hollow spot in his chest. Loneliness. He had the urge to talk to the crystals, tell the ceiling light he planned on shining it up. “You’re getting batty, MacKenzie.”

Areas of the house left him cold, while others imparted physical manifestations he’d not experienced before—why? No wonder he was off his game.

“I need to know more.” With the tape measure and notepad in hand, he stepped outside, locked the door, and strode back to his truck. He’d take his lunchbreak at the Joshua Historical Society. He’d never be able to concentrate if he didn’t discover the mystery behind the Big Purple House.

Luckily, as he approached the JHS on Main Street, a parking spot opened directly in front. He didn’t notice the closed sign in the window until his hand pulled down on the locked door lever. “Damn.” He looked at the hours. Nine to one, Monday through Friday. He just missed them. Peering through the door glass, he saw Wanda Byerson.

Wanda waved, came from behind the counter, and unlocked the door. “Why, hi, Harlan.

“I didn’t know the office closed at one.”

She peeked around him in both directions. “I’ll let you in.” Locking the door behind him, she nudged him forward. “Come away from the window before we attract anymore late-comers. Not that we’re ever flooded with customers.” She tightened her gray ponytail as she led him deeper into the office. “What can I do for you?”

“I need to do some research and don’t know where to begin. But I can come back. I don’t want to trouble you.”

“Nonsense.” Bright gray eyes sparkled in her round face. “I’ll at least see if we can be of any help, so you know if you need to come back. What are you researching?”

“The Big Purple House.”

“I heard Lolly’s sister is buying it from Phaedra. Isn’t that super?” She clapped once, and a toothy smile lit her face. “I’ve always thought that house should come to life again.” Her remark reminded him of what he liked about living in Joshua: close knit community, concern for the history and the city.

“I’m wondering about the original owners, the Herseys.”

“Ah, yes. The disappearing millionaire. Probably a billionaire by today’s standards.” As she talked, she climbed onto a stepping stool and stretched to take a book from a shelf behind her. “Probably something in here for starters.” She plopped it onto the counter.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a registry of sorts. Dates back to the late 1800s as to who owned what residential properties.” She opened the book and flipped a few pages then peered over black framed reading glasses. “What’s the address? And do you know the exact year the house was built?”

“1923.” He gave her the address and moved behind her to look over her shoulder.

She ran her finger down the print then flipped another page. “Here it is. Lilac End. Completed in June of 1923. Built and owned by John Carl Hersey.”

“Is there any more—”

“Oh, wait. Looks like ownership changed later in the year.”

He waited, anxious for her to find the section in the back of the book cross-referencing the change.

“Well, that’s unusual.”

“What?”

“Apparently, he added his wife to the deed as full owner in October of 1923.”

“Unusual?” He stepped aside as she turned toward him.

“Yep. For the times. Men were men and women were, well, not quite equal partners. I’m not saying it wasn’t done, but especially in the testosterone history of Joshua, these mining moguls gave new meaning to macho. Did you know it wasn’t until 1988 that women didn’t have to have a male relative co-sign on property? Took a federal law to change it.”

Wanda was always a wealth of little-known facts. “No, I didn’t.” No doubt she had more women’s rights details to impart, but he needed to keep her on track. “And so he added Lilac Hersey?”

She found the entry on the page again. “Yep. Lilac Louise Lambert Hersey.”

Lambert? “L-a-m-b-e-r-t?”

“Yes. That’s how it’s spelled. Does the name mean something to you?”

A curious twitch in his chest. “My mother’s middle name was Lambert.”

696 Romance

“There is something about the house.” Talking to her about his sensitivities regarding the house would be simpler than broaching the subject of his…feelings for her. “First, how do you take your steak?”

“Pink.”

Like your lips. “Then I think we’re about there.”

“Great. I’ll get the baked potatoes from the oven and the salad. Unless you’d rather eat inside.”

“Out here is fine.”

She moved away then paused. “Want to tell me about the house first?”

“Let’s talk while we eat. I’m starving.”

Once the food covered the round wooden table and their wine refreshed, Phaedra resumed the conversation where they’d left off. “Now, what’s the problem with the house?”

“I don’t know.”

She chewed slowly and fixed him with a puzzled expression.

He poured blue cheese dressing on his salad. “The house is structurally sound. No worry there. You need a new roof, but it’s not to the leaking stage yet. I’m experiencing…odd sentiments. Like the house is hiding something or protecting someone.”

Her forehead smoothed, and her puzzlement vanished. “Why am I not surprised?”

“You get what I’m talking about?”

She cut her steak “Probably not.”

“Then—”

“You’re a MacKenzie. You’re all a little odd.” She spoke around chewing her food.

The wine in his mouth went down roughly, and he laughed. “That’s a glowing assessment.”

“It’s not a bad odd. Like Magpie is fond of saying the universe talks to you. Or her anyway. Elidor has other voices in her head. I’m guessing houses communicate with you.” Shrugging, she scooped potato onto her fork. “I love you guys. You’re…colorful.” She tilted her head, popped the healthy bite into her mouth, and chewed through a beguiling smile.

He should’ve known the roadblocks the house threw up wouldn’t surprise her. She’d known his mother, had been damn near part of their family for decades. Cutting his steak, he avoided her gaze. Yeah, part of the family. But she didn’t give off family vibes any longer. Dory intuited his passion over the phone. How did Phaedra feel?

“Is the house telling you to get the hell out and leave it alone? Threatening you?”

Chuckling, he wiped his mouth and leaned on the table. “No, it doesn’t work like that. I’m feeling sadness and…something disguised or hidden.” He still wasn’t sure about the dizzy episode on the stairs—Dory’s dark energy comment?

“Hmm.” She kept eating, nodding to encourage him to explain further.

“Do you know anything about the original owners, the Herseys?”

“A little, I guess. Like what?”

“I found out today Lilac Hersey’s maiden name was Lambert. My mother’s middle name was Lambert. Seems like a freakish coincidence. And with the vibrations I’m getting…”

“You think you could be related to the Herseys?”

“No idea. We know next to nothing about my grandmother’s side of the family, the Biddingtons. Mom’s mother, whose middle name was also Lambert, died when she was two. Her father’s parents, the Muses, raised her. We had contact with that side some, but not the Biddington side.”

“Time to do some family tree research.”

“But how quirky is it my mom, Susie Muse, would end up in Joshua, decades after one of her relatives lived here? And mining moguls to boot. You’d think that kind of family history would be talked about.” He pushed his plate back. “More than a strange coincidence.”

“The universe does work in strange ways.”

“Or so Susie Muse told me many times.” He quirked a smile.

Phaedra clasped her hands under her chin and sighed, her crystal blue gaze going dreamy.

“What?”

“What?” She dropped her hands to the table then diverted her attention to the lush backyard.

“You were looking at me like…”

“Like what?”

Like you’d like to kiss me. Like I’m not just your buddy. Standing, he rounded the table and gripped her arms, bringing her to stand.

She didn’t resist. In fact, her chin came up, and her shoulders relaxed into his grip. “So, are you going to…can you still work on the house or—”

“I don’t want to talk about the house. I want to talk about you, me, the way you look at me—like just then.”

763

As soon as Harlan crossed the threshold, he was sheathed in a gray cloud. His calf muscles tensed with a message to walk away. His head spun. He braced himself on the wall until the dizziness passed. When the room quit spinning, he imagined giving himself over to the mood of his surroundings. His body hummed with sensuality as if teased by sexual temptation. He strolled farther into the room, his breathing shallow and fast. “What the—” A spike of anger knocked out all pleasant sensation. He wanted to lash out. At what? He gripped his tape measure, took two quick breaths, and rolled his shoulders. Find some control. He widened his eyes as if to see more clearly and pivoted in a circle. Four walls. A window looking out on the side of the house. I’m missing something. He rotated in a circle again. Four walls. No closet. His throat constricted.

Dark. Sensual. Hidden desire. Secrets. Fear. I need air.

As if in a fog, he squinted and found the door. In the hall, he inhaled, bent with hands on his knees, and closed his eyes. “Son of a bitch.”

Gradually, his heart rate normalized. He took slow steady breaths. He had no way to decipher the overload of impressions the closet, the stairwell, and now this room gave him. He righted. I have to find out. Whatever happened in this house he felt certain tied him to its past.

****

“Guess who I just ran into?” Phaedra asked him.

“Uh, Jon Bon Jovi? I hear he’s considering opening a winery in Joshua.”

She snorted. “No. Nora the writer.”

“And?”

“You know how you said something seems off about her? I ran into her in the hardware store. So, I engaged her in conversation. She doesn’t know about The Ravine. Who doesn’t know about The Ravine if you’ve done any research on Joshua? And why would a writer come to Joshua if she hadn’t done even preliminary research? She told me she carries books with her. In a case. Doesn’t everyone use the Internet now? Why would she carry actual books with her?”

Harlan rubbed the back of his neck. “She said something about a book her mom had. One chapter on Joshua and mining moguls.”

“And on that little information she takes off for Joshua? Where’s she from?”

“I don’t know if she’s said. Why?”

“No reason. But wouldn’t a writer find out more about an area before just taking off and hoping she gets enough material when she gets there? And she bought tools at the hardware store. What’s she going to do, build a book?”

“Now that you question it, she mentioned driving around to find appropriate houses. But then she also told me about the book her mom had.” He ran a hand through his hair and huffed. “One more mystery connected to this house.” He glanced toward the bedrooms then across the ceiling as if he had X-ray vision and was mapping coordinates.

She shoved at his knee to bring his gaze back. Something bothered him. “What do you mean, Harlan? What’s wrong?”

“My ‘clear vision’ isn’t exactly working with me on this house.” He gestured quote marks. “A woman with purple eyes shows up asking questions. Purple eyes. Purple house.” He rubbed the back of his neck again. “The original owner’s maiden name is the same as my mother’s middle name. And one of the bedrooms doesn’t have a closet.”

She scooted closer and ran fingers along his arm, registering the nice biceps. Tense. “Hey, don’t get so distressed. You’ll do a great job even if the house isn’t disclosing its secrets.”

He canted toward her, slipping the arm she touched around her waist. “Thanks.”

Although not exactly a hug, his gesture caused a ripple across her breasts. She took a short breath to maintain her calm. “Maybe they didn’t put a closet in that room, and your mom’s middle name, although unusual, could be a coincidence. And you must be worrying about the house too much, because Miss Round-butt Writer—”

“Round-butt writer?” With a deep-throated chuckle, he hugged her.

“Yes, she has blue eyes, and if you’re seeing purple—”

“I’m not color blind.” He trailed a finger down the side of her face. A teasing smile tipped the corner of his lips. “Her eyes are purple.”

“Whatever.” She poked his arm the same way she’d done a million times when they were kids. “Yeah, well, I’m sure you noticed—”

His mouth covered hers as he looped his other arm around her.

Excerpt 2

“Why all this sudden interest in the family tree?” Magpie asked.

“When I went to the Historical Society to do some research on the Big Purple House, the name Lambert came up.”

“Research? What kind of research?”

“I wanted to know more about the history of the house.” An engine raced on the street outside. Harlan gazed out the window. “To help me get a feel for the renovations.”

“Do you always do that?”

“No.”

“Why now?” She cocked her head, inquisitive as ever. His sister always had a million questions about everything. The pesky bird whose name she bore fit her.

“It’s hard to explain.” He’d made a giant leap confessing to his dad about the clear feelings he absorbed from inanimate objects and houses. He’d never been able to confide in Magpie. Her self-assuredness battered his.

“Try me.”

“I’m not real inspired.” And I’ll leave it at that. “Dad thought it would help if I knew more history on the house. I found out Lilac Hersey’s maiden name was Lambert.”

Sacrebleu!”

“Yeah, I thought so too. Dad might know something, but I wasn’t sure I should ask him about Mom’s relatives. Wanda volunteered to do some more digging for me. Said to check back with her.”

“She’s great with historical research. But ask Dad.”

“You think?” The bell on the door jangled, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Phaedra enter the shop.

“Hey, looks like the gang’s all here.” She strolled closer.

He took in a heady whiff of her rose oil. “You following me? Checking up on my progress?”

“You’re so suspicious.” She bumped him with her hip. “Actually, I did see your truck and decided to stop. Maybe I should start paying you by the hour.”

“Oh man. Another stab. You’re full of them.” He returned her bump, squatting to make it hip to hip. Her blue eyes twinkled like crystals. A strand of white hair hung along her cheek, threatening to stick to her glossy pink lips. He caught it with a finger, trailing his knuckle along her cheek. And he was lost in her gaze.

Until Magpie cleared her throat.

Phaedra blinked, and a noise somewhere between a gasp and a sigh parted her lips. “Oh, uh, Mags, I wanted to see if I could get the blue jacket for the store in Copperdale. I’ll replace it next week.” She sidestepped, then riffled through the rack of her clothes.

“Sure.” Magpie answered her friend, but her scrutiny, cocked brow, and half smile, addressed him.

With Phaedra’s back to them, he frowned and narrowed his eyes at his sister with a keep-your-questions-to-yourself expression. She hadn’t missed whatever just happened and smirked.

“I better get back to work.” Mags made him uncomfortable and the physical effect their friend had on him caused reactions he didn’t want his nosy sister to notice. “I’ll call you later, Phae, with a progress report.”

She whirled around, blue jacket in hand, clanking against the rack of clothes. “Oh. Okay. Or why don’t you come to dinner tonight? I’ve got two steaks in the freezer I need to cook. You could fill me in while you grill the steaks and I make salad.”

“Invite me to dinner and make me work for the meal?”

“Got to get some kind of work out of you.”

He smothered a laugh and feigned a frown. “It really isn’t wise to antagonize the contractor. But I’ll be there with a full report. I missed lunch, so how about an early dinner. Five-ish?”

“Sounds good.”

On the sidewalk, he strode to his truck, feeling far more anticipation for the evening than a conference with a homeowner and old friend should bring. He breathed deep. A light scent of rose oil lingered in his head. The puffs of clouds on the northern horizon billowed higher in the late afternoon sun. He leaned against his truck fender. The sun-heated metal penetrated his jeans as he dug his cell out of a pocket and checked the time. After three. Not enough time to get anything done at the house. He called his crews for updates then slid onto the truck seat. A stop for a good bottle of cabernet he knew she’d like with steak and then a slow shower was all he could wrap his mind around right now anyway. A steak, a glass of wine, and an evening in The Ravine with an old friend who happened to be the sexiest lady in Joshua had his engine revved higher than his truck.

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