Christmas Thriller

When Detective Kate Rosetti is startled awake in the middle of the night by a phone call from her mother, she knows it’s not good news. It turns out Kate’s father, the notorious Angelo Rosetti, is missing. There are no witnesses and no leads, and with only a week to go before Christmas, Kate hopes to find her father before the New Year. As Kate begins the hunt for her father, she gets another case added to her plate at the precinct.

Mary Higgins Clark, the "Queen of Suspense," has crafted a very special holiday story about a child's courage in the face of danger, and the power of love. Charged with menace and thrilling suspense, it is the #1 New York Times bestselling author's gift to readers for all seasons. When Catherine...

Ed Belmont works in a struggling Midwest mall. It isn’t the ideal place for a job, but he’s doing the best he can. Every day is an uphill battle since Ed dislikes children, holiday decorations, and Christmas music. But what’s a guy to do when he’s Santa Claus? There’s a criminal lurking around town, and he’s dressed as jolly old Saint Nick.

It’s a cold and snowy Christmas Eve in the rowdy mining town of Deadwood in the Dakota Territory. Rather than enjoy some drinks in front of a warm fire with her friends, contracted Slayer Clementine Johanssen has her horse saddled and weapons packed to head out into the hills and hunt down some deadly scallywags—alone. When her friends catch wind of her intentions, they set out to waylay her long enough to change her way of thinking...in spite of her mule-headedness.

Cantankerous and vinegar-tongued Grandmama, from Anne Perry's Charlotte and Thomas Pitt series, is the leading character in this Christmas novel, which unfolds in the chilly, windswept Romney Marshes off the English Channel. Grandmama arrives on a holiday visit to the home of Charlotte's parents, where a fellow guest--an outcast from her own family--is subsequently murdered. Like the heroes before her in Anne Perry's Christmas novels, Grandmama is called upon to play the role of amateur detective.

When Gina Temple decides to go Christmas shopping for her girlfriend, Detective Sergeant Kate Brannon, in the Norfolk town of King's Lynn, it seems like an easy enough task. If only life were that simple. A split-second event, months in the planning, tips their safe world upside down.

Interior designer Shelby Nelson is looking for a new start. She gets a lucky break when she's hired to help decorate the homes in a wealthy subdivision for the holidays. But not everyone is thrilled with being forced to follow the strict rules set by the homeowners' association. And the person they're angriest with is Heather Redstone, the president of the HOA. So when Shelby is found standing over Heather's dead body under the Christmas tree, she quickly becomes the prime suspect. To clear her name, she’ll need to find the killer.

Tiefschwarzer Humor von seiner weihnachtlichsten Seite. Auch eine gut aufgeräumte Leiche ist eine Leiche und erfordert die Anwesenheit der Polizei, beschließt Janne Glöckchen, als sie eine Tote zwischen ihren farblich sortierten Mülltonnen findet. Wohl fühlt sie sich allerdings nicht dabei, liegt doch in ihrem Keller bereits ihre verstorbene Chefin Irmgard Kling auf Eis. Aber schlimmer geht immer: Ein junger Mann mit unlauteren Absichten und eine dritte Leiche machen die Aussicht auf eine stilvolle Vorweihnachtszeit für Janne vollends zunichte ...

It's Christmastime, but not everyone is jolly - especially not Vonne Barnett. Her dead body has been found in Victoria Square. Katie Bonner, the manager of Artisan's Alley, happens to be at the tea shop Vonne's mother, Francine, owns when the news is delivered. Vonne left a trail of men behind her so the suspects are many - but the clues are few. A broken teacup leads Katie to one of the suspects, but before she can investigate, she's attacked. Katie may be closing in on a murderer, but time is ticking because the murderer is definitely closing in on her.

Tick-tock, the hour is almost up. Can these two lovers who work for LAPD stop a psycho who seems to just slip away every time?

Christmas has descended on Lana Cove. It should be a time of merriment, but in one swoop, a news broadcast changes everything. Michael, an author, finds himself on the trail of a rogue Santa, intent on ruining Christmas and the lives of some residents. George is the usual Santa for Lana Cove, so who is the secretive newcomer, and why is he taking over all of George’s jobs?

This wasn't the secret she expected from her Secret Santa! Security expert for a British bank by day, horse trainer at night, Izzy Paterson is a multi-tasking, dressage-riding computer whiz with an addiction to strong coffee and a penchant for CSI on Netflix. So when the Secret Santa at her office Christmas party hands her a perplexing riddle, she just can't ignore the mystery. Penned by a modern-day Robin Hood, the anonymous rhyme hints at financial misconduct that could put the future of everyone at her work in danger.

On Christmas Eve, Francesca gets a call from her wealthy grandmother. Her father is dead. He promised to leave her an apartment building when he passed away and told her she’d be rich beyond her wildest dreams. But he didn’t have a will. Her aloof grandmother will leave the estate to the gardener, who is by her side, helping her every day. But Francesca won’t let her dreams of wealth wither. She’s determined to claw back the money she deserves.

Seth, the seven-year-old Earl of Woodridge, is spending Christmas at Halton House and he would like nothing better than to help trim the tree with the Christmas decorations his father had carved for him. But no one has any idea where these decorations are. Determined to make the young Earl's wish come true, Evie and her bodyguard, Tom Winchester, set out to a nearby village where the young Earl had lived in the hope that they might recover the lost decorations. They find themselves among a group of people who might all be suspects in the murder of a local villager.

Slàinte! A Christmas Eve party at snow-covered Vik castle, where the Christmas Star diamond is on display. Good food, dancing and a visit from Santa. What could possibly go wrong? When Santa appears down the chimney, looking far more crispy than expected, it is clear that something has gone very wrong. With the castle cut off from help, a murderer in their midst and the Christmas Star stolen, it's up to Losers Club to investigate. As they follow the network of secret passages to learn more about their fellow guests, they realize that everyone has a motive. Including one of their own.

Dimpson McCabe - Dimpsie - has invited his closest friends of the theatre world to join him for Christmas at his castle on a private island some hours' drive from Edinburgh. The festivities have barely begun when Dimpsie is found draped atop the Christmas tree, electrocuted by the lights. It's labelled Accidental Death, but in the swirling snow suspicion is dancing among the flakes. The dogged Inspector Smith begins to circle, seeking to find the leading man or prima donna responsible.

When local businessman Jed Greenberg is found dead with a Chocolate lab whimpering over his body, the police start sniffing around Robbie Jordan's country restaurant for answers. Was it something in Robbie's hot cocoa that killed Jed, or was it Cocoa the dog? As the suspects pile as high as her holiday tree, Robbie attempts to get to the bottom of the sickly sweet murder.

Being an undercover poison taster for the rich and famous is hard enough without being dragged into clearing the name of your former nemesis.... Especially when you think he might be guilty. To make matters worse, Izzy and her elderly accomplice aren't the only ones digging into the murder case, and the other parties are a whole lot more dangerous. And if her old nemesis didn't do it, then the real killer won't appreciate their interference.

This is how my tombstone read: Elizabeth Anne Taylor. April 25, 1974-April 25, 2004. Our sweetheart, only resting. Only, I wasn’t resting under it. I had, of course, died in the spring. Rose in the early dawn hours the day of my funeral and gone on undead walkabout. Since my body was MIA, the funeral was canceled. But my mother, who had been in a huge fight with my dad and stepmom about what to spend on my marble tombstone, had rushed to order the thing. By the time it was finished, no funeral, no service, no burial. So anyway, my tombstone had been in storage for the last six months.

Today Candy Cane Hollow smells like butter and bravado. I'm helping at the Elvish Culinary Guild's grand induction and tasting, and Gilbert, our house-elf at Claus Cottage, has made the finalists' bench with his prized mince pie. Then the celebrity headliner takes one bite of a showpiece pie and drops. Guild security locks the doors while city police sweep the kitchens. Whispers fly: a rival with a temper, an apprentice with something to prove, a sponsor with money on the line, a producer who prefers ratings to recipes.