Wednesday, November 15, 2017



It may be the holiday season, but the mood in Winsome is anything but jolly.

Megan Sawyer is determined to farm year-round. So much so that she braves a December snowstorm to pitch her fresh greenhouse greens to Philadelphia chefs. 

And then she sees a stranger stranded on the side of the road. 

But this woman is no stranger to Winsome. It’s Becca Fox, a self-proclaimed “love chemist” (you read that right). Becca’s headed to her aunt’s house to sell her love potions at holiday events. 

Or so Becca thinks.

Her sneaky aunt only invited Becca home to reunite her with her estranged father. It sounds noble and kind-hearted, until the man ends up dead. 

Megan soon finds herself in the middle. She realizes Becca’s not the only one getting iced over. Megan’s own aunt, the famous mystery author, is dragged into the drama. Her novels implicate her and she’s in trouble.

Now it’s personal. Megan must follow a cryptic trail of literary clues, all while sifting through the victim’s sordid past. She gets closer to the truth as the murderer gets closer to her.

Seeds of Revenge
A Greenhouse Mystery Book Three
By Wendy Tyson

Henery Press
Publication Date: November 14th, 2017
ISBN: 9781635112757

Original Trade Paperback & E-Book: $15.95 / $4.99
272 pages


A few of your favorite things:
My photo albums. The chef’s knife my son made for me. The pottery I’ve collected while traveling.
Things you need to throw out:
Clothes that no longer fit. Correspondence—I’m terrible at organizing paperwork. 

Things you need in order to write:
Computer or pen and paper.
Things that hamper your writing:
Bickering children. (My identical twin boys have made a sport of arguing.) A lack of down time—I need free time to let my mind wander.

Things you love about writing:
Starting a new novel. Finishing a short story. Meeting readers.
Things you hate about writing:
The final proofread. By then, I just can’t look at a manuscript anymore.

Things you love about where you live:
The views. The number of outdoor recreational opportunities. The smell of the woods after it rains. The emphasis on local foods. (We recently moved to Vermont.)
Things that make you want to move:
When the temperature dips below zero. Icy roads.

Things you never want to run out of:
Chocolate. Toothpaste.
Things you wish you’d never bought:
That wrinkle cream (doesn’t work!). The wide-legged black pants (not a good look on me).

Favorite foods:
Garden-grown tomatoes. Potatoes. Paneer Tikka Masala. Fresh strawberries.
Things that make you want to throw up: 
Spam. Sausage. Scrapple. Anything gelatinous.

Favorite band:
The Cat Empire.
Music that makes your ears bleed:
Too much electric guitar.

Favorite beverage:
Unsweetened iced tea.

Something that gives you a pickle face:
Tonic water.

Favorite smell:
Smell of wood smoke in the fall.

Something that makes you hold your nose:
Rosemary (I want to like it, but . . . )

Something you’re really good at:

Something you’re really bad at:

Last best thing you ate: 
Mushroom stew over new potatoes.

Last thing you regret eating:
Peanut M&Ms.

Things you always put in your books:

Things you never put in your books:
Gratuitous graphic violence.

Things to say to an author:

“I read your book and left a review on Amazon.” We appreciate reviews—they really do matter. “I can tell you put a lot of time into getting the details right.”

Things to say to an author if you want to be fictionally killed off in their next book:
“You’re still writing that novel?”

Favorite things to do:

Writing. Traveling to new places with my family. Trying out new recipes, especially in the summer when the garden is bursting with fresh vegetables.

Things you’d run through a fire wearing gasoline pants to get out of doing:
Cleaning the bathroom.

Things that make you happy: 
Puppies. Autumn in Vermont. A day with no commitments. Walking along the beach. Morning coffee with my husband. Planning a trip. A new book.

Things that drive you crazy:
When people drive slowly in the passing lane of a highway. Rudeness. Hypocrisy. Litter. Paperwork.

The last thing you did for the first time:
I was the keynote speaker at a large legal event.

Something you’ll never do again:
Downhill skiing. Every time I try it, I’m as terrified as I was the first time. Nordic skiing for me!


Merry Chance’s statuesque four square was alit with white Christmas lights—Colonial candles in the windows, braids of lights outlining the window sills and doorways, blinking lights woven into wreaths, and miniscule bulbs incorporated into a doe and two fawns that adorned the front lawn. As Megan pulled up alongside the road in front of the home, she saw with relief that Merry was home. In fact, she was standing on her porch talking with a man.

Becca gave Megan a quick hug. “Thank you,” she sang. “You saved me quite a trek.”

Megan climbed out of the truck and pulled Becca’s suitcase from the bed while Becca unloaded her boxes of love potions. Merry had noticed them, and she turned her attention toward her niece.

“Aunt Merry!” Becca called. “Hello!”

She hurried toward her aunt and stopped short just feet from the landing, Megan trailing behind. The man had turned to look at them so that his face was visible. He was older, mid- to late-sixties, but his resemblance to Becca was unmistakable. Strong features: a square chin, a broad nose, unnaturally black hair receding ever-so-slightly into his scalp line. He wore a tailored coat and carried an expensive bag. His bearing screamed money and privilege.

The man regarded Becca with an evenness that seemed unnerving, while Becca’s whole body shook with emotion.

No one acknowledged Megan. She watched the scene unfold the way a bystander witnesses a car crash. Helpless and transfixed.

“No! Why is he here? Aunt Merry, why the hell is he here?” To him, “I told you I never want to see you again. Never. Do you know what that means? You brought him here on purpose.”

“Rebecca, calm down,” Merry snapped. “You’re jumping to conclusions.”

“He’s here, I’m here. What conclusions am I jumping to?”

The man said, “Actually, I was just leaving.”

“That might be best, Paul.” Merry glanced at her niece, lips pursed into a frown. “Let’s give Becca some time to calm down.”

Paul nodded curtly. “Very well. Thank you, Merry. You know where I’ll be.” He walked down the steps, past Becca, without so much as another glance in her direction. Becca placed her bags on the ground. With a sudden rush, she darted toward the man in the slippery snow, hands outstretched. She would have pushed him had he not reacted with laser speed. He grabbed her wrists and held them out in front of her. Merry took a step forward. Megan dropped the suitcase, ready to intervene.

But Paul and Becca just stood there, staring at one another. Finally, Becca said, “You’re hurting me.”

He looked down at his hands, wrapped like bindings around her wrists, and let go. “I’m sorry.” He backed away, his eyes unwavering in their focus on Becca’s face.

He climbed into his car—a silver Mercedes—and Becca spat at the ground near his tire. She rubbed her wrists, shoulders hunched.

Becca watched as he pulled away, his rear tires slipping in the deep snow. “Why would you invite him here, Aunt Merry?”

“I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

“He’s staying here. He made that pretty clear.”

“He wanted to see you. He wants to make amends.”

“I will never forgive him. You of all people should understand that.”

Merry regarded her niece with a long, sad stare. Finally she said, “Megan, I assume Becca’s car had some difficulty in the snow?” When Megan nodded, she said, “Thank you for bringing her.”

It was a dismissal, at odds with Merry’s normally saccharine insistence on hospitality. Megan placed Becca’s suitcase on her porch and and returned to her truck. She watched as Becca followed her aunt obediently inside. With the front door shut, the visage of the house returned to its festive façade.

A façade, indeed, Megan thought as she pulled away. That was all it seemed to be. She wondered what conversation was going on inside.


Wendy Tyson is a writer, lawyer, and former therapist whose background has inspired her mysteries and thrillers. Wendy writes two mystery series. Killer Image, Wendy’s first novel in her popular Allison Campbell Mystery Series, was named a best mystery for book clubs in 2014 by the Examiner. Additional books in the Allison Campbell series are Deadly Assets (July 2014), Dying Brand (May 2015), and Fatal Façade (June 2017). Wendy’s bestselling Greenhouse Mystery Series includes A Muddied Murder (March 2016), Bitter Harvest (March 2017), which received a starred Publishers Weekly review; and Seeds of Revenge,  (November 2017). Wendy’s short stories have appeared in literary journals, including KARAMU, Concho River Review, and Eclipse, A Literary Journal, and she has short fiction in two fiction anthologies, The Night of the Flood and Betrayed. Wendy is a member of Sisters in Crime, Penn Writers, and International Thriller Writers, and she’s a contributing editor and columnist for International Thriller Writers’ online magazines, The Big Thrill and The Thrill Begins. Wendy splits her time between Pennsylvania and Vermont.

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