Knives Out gets a holiday rom-com twist in this rivals-to-lovers romance-mystery from New York Times bestselling author Ally Carter.
Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Ally Carter’s The Most Wonderful Crime of the Year, which is out now.
The bridge is out. The phones are down. And the most famous mystery writer in the world just disappeared out of a locked room three days before Christmas.
Meet Maggie Chase and Ethan Wyatt:
She’s the new Queen of the Cozy Mystery.
He’s Mr. Big-time Thriller Guy.
She hates his guts.
He thinks her name is Marcie (no matter how many times she’s told him otherwise.)
But when they both accept a cryptic invitation to attend a Christmas house party at the English estate of a reclusive fan, neither is expecting their host to be the most powerful author in the world: Eleanor Ashley, the Duchess of Death herself.
That night, the weather turns, and the next morning Eleanor is gone.
She vanished from a locked room, and Maggie has to wonder: Is Eleanor in danger? Or is it all some kind of test? Is Ethan the competition? Or is he the only person in that snowbound mansion she can trust?
As the snow gets deeper and the stakes get higher, every clue will bring Maggie and Ethan closer to the truth—and each other. Because, this Christmas, these two rivals are going to have to become allies (and maybe more) if they have any hope of saving Eleanor.
Assuming they don’t kill each other first.
EXCERPT
“I’m a little confused, Marcie, my dear—”
“Maggie,” she forced out.
“Why are you acting like we’re enemies?”
“Why are you acting like we’re friends?”
“What . . .”
“Either we’re”—Maggie made a gesture—“finger-gun buddies—”
“I don’t think that’s a real thing.”
“—or we’re not. But please don’t try to gaslight me into thinking we’re friends when you don’t even know my name.”
“Marcie . . .”
“My name is Maggie.” She died a little when her voice cracked. “It has always been Maggie, and if you can’t remember that, just don’t call me anything at all. Please.”
For a moment, all he did was stare. And blink. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer. “Are you serious?”
“Of course, I’m serious! Just like I was serious at the American Library Association when I told you I didn’t want your sticker.”
“How was I supposed to know that adhesive allergies are a real thing?”
“And I was serious at the Edgars when I told you—”
“Hey! The fire marshal said that could have happened to anyone.”
“And at ThrillerCon? What about what happened at ThrillerCon?”
“One: I think shorter hair looks great on you. And two—”
“I can never go back to Houston!”
He had the nerve to roll his eyes. “Of course you can go to Houston. Murder by the Book would have you. Do you want me to call Johnnie? I can call Johnnie.”
She couldn’t even look at him. “And Tucson . . .”
The plane leveled off and the cabin lights went dim and Maggie wished she could pull the words back.
“I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about Tucson.” His voice was soft and low, and the bad part was that he wasn’t lying, wasn’t teasing. The worst part was that it was true.
“Just . . . please. All I’m asking is for a few days of peace, and then you can go back to mocking me and I can keep on avoiding you and we can both live the rest of our lives, blissfully having no respect for each other. Do you think you can do that?”
The cabin that had seemed so lush a few minutes before was suddenly like a spaceship—foreign and cold. Lights the color of amber were shining through the darkness, directing them to the emergency exits, but Maggie knew better. There was no way out but through.
“Can we do that? Please?” Maggie thought she might break under the weight of all that silence, but Ethan wasn’t speechless. If anything, he looked like a man who had so many things to say he couldn’t possibly pick just one.
Then he shook his head and settled on, “Yeah. Truce. Whatever you want.”
Maggie turned and watched the lights of the city fading behind them, the dark waves of the Atlantic stretching out ahead. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the man beside her was like that water, sweeping and powerful and beloved. But Maggie had spent the last year feeling like an open wound. She was an open wound and he was full of salt.
“I really do like your hair.”
Colin hadn’t. I didn’t marry some short-haired girl, he had muttered when he saw it, not quite loud enough to prove she’d actually heard what Maggie knew she’d heard. It was one of his greatest skills—like poking a stick through the bars of a tiger’s cage—irritating, taunting—and always protected from the consequences of his own actions. But Maggie had kept it shorter anyway. A few inches above her shoulders but long enough to pull back because, the truth was, she liked it, too.
Ethan went back to poking at buttons and opening compartments while the lights of the city were swallowed by the sea.
“Do you know where we’re going?” she had to ask.
“Nope.”
“Are you . . .” Maggie looked down at her hands. They were chapped and raw but not quite bleeding. They looked like how the rest of her felt. But for the first time in a long time, there was another heartbeat in the darkness. She was scared but not alone. “Aren’t you at least a little bit curious?”
She could barely make out his face in the shadows. He should have been less powerful with his million-dollar looks off the table, but it wasn’t Ethan’s face that made him. It was his presence. And, if anything, it was heightened in the dark. She could hear him breathe. She could see him shift. She could feel him—thirty inches and a million miles away.
“Whatever happens, I’m with you. Whatever comes, I’m in.” Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzp. The chair slowly descended until it lay fully flat and he turned on his side. “Hey, wanna make out?” he asked.
She glared.
And then Ethan chuckled and closed his eyes. And slept.
Excerpt from THE MOST WONDERFUL CRIME OF THE YEAR by Ally Carter. Copyright 2024 © by Ally Carter. Used with permission by Avon Books, an imprint of HarperCollins. All rights reserved.
