A Goodreads Most Anticipated Historical Fiction Book of Fall 2024
“A sinister romance and hypnotic Gothic fairytale—surreal and luscious with a fascinating twist on the story of Hades and Persephone.” —Jennifer Saint, bestselling author of Ariadne
A woman with no past. A man who seems to know her. And a monstrous garden that could be the border between their worlds…
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September 24, 2024
MIRA Books
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ABOUT IN THE GARDEN OF MONSTERS:
Italy, 1948
Julia Lombardi is a mystery even to herself. The beautiful model can’t remember where she’s from, where she’s been or how she came to live in Rome. When she receives an offer to accompany celebrated eccentric artist Salvador Dalí to the Sacro Bosco—Italy’s Garden of Monsters—as his muse, she’s strangely compelled to accept. It could be a chance to unlock the truth about her past…
Shrouded in shadow, the garden full of giant statues that sometimes seem alive is far from welcoming. Still, from the moment of their arrival at the palazzo, Julia is inexplicably drawn to their darkly enigmatic host, Ignazio. He’s alluring yet terrifying—and he seems to know her.
Posing for Dalí as the goddess Persephone, Julia finds the work to be perplexing, particularly as Dalí descends deeper into his fanaticism. To him, she is Persephone, and he insists she must eat pomegranate seeds to rejoin her king.
Between Dalí’s fevered persistence, Ignazio’s uncanny familiarity and the agonizing whispered warnings that echo through the garden, Julia is soon on the verge of unraveling. And she begins to wonder if she’s truly the mythical queen of the Underworld…
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EXCERPT OF IN THE GARDEN OF MONSTERS:
Prologue
Bomarzo, Italy, 1547–1560
It took me years to find Giulia Farnese, but no time at all to win her confidence. I did so with an unassuming cherry rose tart. It had been nearly a hundred years since I last looked upon her face, but from the moment she pulled the golden tines of her fork away from her lips and she looked to me, not her husband, I knew my influence had taken hold.
“You truly are a maestro, Aidoneus,” she said, closing her eyes to savor the sweet, floral flavors. “And a welcome addition to our kitchen.”
“Madonna Farnese, you flatter me.” I gave the couple a polite bow, my gesture more fluid than human custom, and turned back to my earthly duties.
“It seems you will eat well when I am gone,” Vicino joked behind my back. “But don’t eat too well, my beauty, or you won’t fit into those lovely dresses.”
Giulia laughed, and my heart warmed. Oh, she would eat well, I vowed. Very well.
* * *
The next day, as Vicino Orsini gave his wife a peck on the cheek and vaulted onto his horse, I watched from the rooftop terrace, my gaze lingering on the horizon where earth met sky—a threshold I knew all too well. Then, with a flick of the reins, he led his men down the road into the valley. They were headed to Venezia to escort the Holy Roman Cardinal, Pietro Bembo, to Rome. Afterward, Vicino would depart for Napoli and Sicilia on business for Papa Pio IV.
Jupiter had blessed the region of Lazio with a warm spring, and a week after Vicino left, Giulia asked me if I wanted to take a walk. I suggested we explore the wood in the valley below the palazzo. She readily agreed, which did not surprise me. It was impossible for her to ignore the aphrodisiac qualities of my food, let alone the timbre of my voice, and the brush of my hand against hers. The first time she startled at my warmth— no human runs as hot as I—but she did not ask me to explain. In all the centuries past, she never has. This alone stoked the fire of hope within me.
She led me on a thin path through the verdant tapestry of the forest, where sunlight, diffusing through the emerald canopy, dappled the woodland floor with patches of gold. Beneath our feet, a carpet of fallen leaves, still rich with the scent of earth, crunched softly. We moved through clusters of ancient evergreen oaks, their gnarled limbs reaching out like weathered hands, and past groves of squat pomegranate trees with their ruby-hued fruits catching the sunlight and casting a warm, inviting glow.
Upon reaching a clearing surrounded by several large tufa stones jutting up through the grass and weeds, I was immediately drawn to one of the stones embedded in the hillside. The exposed side was round and flat, and it hummed, a song of the earth, a low vibration that warmed the deepest depths of me.
Giulia could not hear the humming, but she was surely aware of it in some hidden part of her, for she turned to me then.
“I love this wood,” she said, her arms outstretched toward the
stone. The early morning light brightened her features, making
her blue eyes shine.
“I can see why.”
She twined her hand in mine. “I come here often to bask in the feeling. The moment I arrived in Bomarzo, I felt like I had been called home, to my true home. And this wood, this is why. It re-minds me of a fairy tale, or a place from the ancient, heroic myths.” It was then that I had the idea. The stone—it hummed be-cause the veil to the Underworld was thin there. Perhaps…yes… if the wood was enhanced, and energy from the darkness was better able to pierce the surface into this realm I would no longer have to spend years attuning to Giulia when she reappeared in the world. Instead, she would be drawn closer, and I would
find her faster. It would work. I was sure of it.
“Vicino doesn’t like me walking here alone. Too many wolves and bears, he says.”
I could sense a wild boar in the far distance, but no wolves or bears. “I think we’re safe here.” I gestured toward one of the big misshapen rocks. “Sometimes I like to imagine rocks as mythical creatures. Like that one. It could be a dragon poised to fight off danger.”
“Ooo, I can see it. The big open mouth, ready to take on any wolf, or even a lion.” Her enthusiasm was exactly what I had hoped for.
I waved my arm toward the large, round, smooth rock be-hind it. “And that should be a great big orco, with a mouth wide open. And it eats up and spits out secrets.”
“An ogre that spits out secrets?” Giulia laughed.
“Oh yes. This orco would tell all. Ogni pensiero volo.” I made my hands look like a fluttering bird.
She wore a wide grin. “All thoughts fly! How perfect. But if he eats up secrets, there should be a table inside this orco. It could be his tongue.”
As we wandered through the wood, dreaming up new lives for the monstrous rocks left eons ago by a force of nature, I was delighted to see how invested she was in the game.
“There are so many stones,” she said, clapping her hands together. “We could make a whole park of statues. I will write Vicino tonight.”
I did not expect it would be quite so easy. Usually it took a long while to convince Giulia of the merit of my ideas. But the pull of the Underworld was strong here and my influence was far greater than it would have been in Paris, or some backwater hill town in the wilds of Bavaria or Transylvania.
On the walk back, she paused by another enormous stone that jutted out of the ground, the size of a giant. She leaned against it. “Can you keep a secret?” she asked coyly.
“Of course.”
“This secret is only for you.” She leaned forward and grasped the edge of my cloak, pulling me toward her. Our lips met and she melted into me.
In the years following, as Vicino began work on the garden, a change was palpable in the air. Each evening, as the twilight deepened, a subtle energy began to emanate from the heart of the valley. I found contentment not just in the evolving grove, but also in my closeness to Giulia. Our time together, so abundant and intimate, felt different. I had never waited so long to make my attempt, but I nurtured this earthly bond, knowing it was essential for the garden’s growth.
The day finally arrived when Vicino ushered Giulia into the heart of the Sacro Bosco—the Sacred Wood—the name he had fondly bestowed upon the garden. As she crossed the threshold, I sensed it—a strengthening of our connection, more profound than ever before. It was time.
That night, the chicken with pomegranate sauce I prepared was met with Giulia’s usual lavish praise, although I knew she took in the single pomegranate seed garnishing the dish as a courtesy, not a desire for the fruit. As she savored each bite, I felt a loosening in the ethereal shackles binding her heart. A vivid, red-hued hope blossomed within me.
Post dinner, I retreated to the palazzo’s highest balcony, my gaze drawn to a nascent light in the wood below. The light, though barely perceptible, was imbued with a power that seemed to bridge the realms of mortal and divine. A faint green luminescence that whispered of unwanted things to come. It pulsed like a languid heartbeat, beckoning to something—or someone.
I was immediately compelled to find Giulia. Amidst the soft murmur of the salon where she played with her children, I enveloped her in my senses and the flower of hope within me withered. Her heartbeat, steady and unsuspecting, echoed the rhythm of the garden’s glow.
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Excerpted from In the Garden of Monsters by Crystal King © 2024 by Crystal King.
Used with permission from MIRA/HarperCollins.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
In her debut novel, an intoxicating thriller in the style of The Perfect Marriage, Marie Theodore has created a fast-paced, character-driven, erotic courtroom drama.
A courtroom drama that will keep readers anxiously looking forward to seeing how everything unfolds.
September 24
Greenleaf Book Group Press
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PRAISE FOR OUT OF THE SILENCE:
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ABOUT OUT OF THE SILENCE:
A novel of resistance amidst domestic strife
Alexa Montgomery is a criminal lawyer, a fierce protector of victim’s rights, who’s made a name for herself as an assistant district attorney in New York City.
But when Casimir Johnson—a man who escaped prosecution years ago for the brutal attack on his wife—is arrested again, Alexa knows that she needs to put this dangerous man behind bars—for good this time.
In Alexa’s search for justice, the destinies of two women are forever entwined.
If the criminal justice system and courts won’t make Casimir Johnson pay, Alexa Montgomery will.
Out of the Silence will captivate your heart and keep you turning the pages, while you anxiously look forward to seeing how it all unfolds.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
College friends meet at the Hitchcock Hotel owned by their friend Alfred.
They haven’t seen each other for sixteen years.
Why did Alfred invite them?
They were never really close, but most have a secret from college and/or their life since college.
Will these secrets come out?
Is this going to be a friendly get together or a sinister one?
A lot of strange things begin to happen including all of their cell phones gone missing, but when a body shows up, who did it and who is it?
THE HITCHCOCK HOTEL started out to be a book I didn't think I was going to continue with but so glad I did.
The slow start had too much background, but wow did it turn out to be a good one.
Lots of secrets, untrustworthy, conniving, unlikeable characters, and a well-crafted plot. 4/5
Thank you to the publisher for a copy of this book. All opinions are my own.
Private Investigator Tori Swenson gets a strange accidental death case that looks like murder at one of her uncle’s drive-ins and decides it’s time to get revenge on her estranged family. Pretending to want a reunion, she appears at her uncle’s party to secretly investigate them. When her uncle suddenly dies, Tori’s case takes a sinister turn that makes her a suspect in her uncle’s death and the killer’s next target. To uncover who dethroned the barbecue king, Tori will have to face her own fiery demons while pursuing a killer who wants to make dead meat out of her.
For fans of Knives Out and the Stephanie Plum series by Janet Evanovich.
"Quirky and entertaining, this book and its unforgettable characters, tight plotting, and clever twists make for a reading experience as suspenseful as it is satisfying. A toothsome treat of a book by a debut mystery writer."
~ Kirkus Reviews
"Fire up the grill! Laura Wetsel serves up a delicious debut of grills, thrills, and chills."
~ Riley Adams, author of the Memphis Barbeque Series
"Jessica Jones meets Succession with a side of coleslaw, this is the kind of book you want to sink your teeth into and not let go. Laura Wetsel bursts onto the scene with a mouthwatering mystery that will have readers begging for more."
~ Moriah Richard, Writer’s Digest
"Charred and bloody to perfection, Laura Wetsel's Burnt Ends is smoking hot!"
~ Jamie Stachowski, Meat America
Book Details:
Genre: Mystery (private investigator)
Published by: CamCat Books
Publication Date: September 24, 2024
Number of Pages: 320
ISBN: 9780744311211 (ISBN10: 0744311217)
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | CamCat Books
There it was—smoking meat, the sweet stench of my childhood. Hickory, molasses, tomato, brown sugar. Kansas City’s love letter to everyone but me.
Darnell, my best friend from our early rehab days, drove us into the parking lot of Rocky’s BBQ Smokehouse, and I gagged on the meat-thickened air. Don’t toss your waffles, Tori. The giant statue of Rocky the Pig— “Rocky the Cannibal”—smiled down at me in his chef hat and apron, holding a platter of ribs like he was trying to turn my stomach.
Darnell parked his truck with a displeased grunt. “Seriously, Tor,” he said, wiping the sweat from his bald head. “I said I’d help you move, not run a stakeout in a hundred degrees.”
“Don’t worry.” I took a gulp of Topo Chico to help settle my queasy gut. “My target should be here soon. Then you can help me move into my aunt’s place.” I twisted the zoom lens onto my digital camera and aimed it at a family tottering out of the restaurant with sauce-splattered shirts.
“Fine, then I’m running in for some brisket,” Darnell said. “At least, assuming they’ve got any with the meat drought they’ve been—”
“Hold up,” I cut him off and nodded at a green sedan rolling into the lot. “That’s her.” I pointed my lens at the driver’s door, getting ready to fire away. When a woman stepped out with crutches, I groaned.
“Guess she wasn’t lying.” Darnell shifted the car out of park. “The brisket will have to—”
“Wait.”
Darnell hit the brakes, jerking us forward. “Now what?”
“I want to see if she uses them inside. It would be hard in a buffet line.”
“You’re kidding, right?” He raised his brows at me. “If you go in there with that huge camera, there’s no way she’s ditching her crutches.”
“That wasn’t what I was thinking. I only knew to come here because my target’s sister posted this online.” I pulled out my phone to show Darnell the selfie post of Sasha Wolf with the caption, Waiting for @GinnyWolf. #RockysBBQ #SisterLove.
“Okay,” Darnell said. “Am I supposed to be seeing something here?”
I tapped on Sasha’s photo, zooming in on her sunlit head. “See that sunlight shining on her ponytail?”
“Yeah, and?”
“She’s under an atrium, which means I’d have a great shot from the roof.”
“The roof? You’re not seriously thinking of climbing Rocky’s, are you?”
“Why not?” I said, tying my blonde curls into a fist of a ponytail. “You’ve seen me scale walls and trees before. I’m a nimble little freak.”
“I meant about trespassing.” Darnell pointed to his police badge like he might arrest me.
“You know us private eyes don’t have to follow your rules.” I gave him a reassuring smile. “Just have a smoke, and I’ll be back before you’ve even put your butt out.”
“One cig, Tor,” Darnell warned, tapping a pack of Marlboro Lights on the face of his watch. “Otherwise, have fun moving by yourself.”
For a recovering addict, Darnell was a horrible liar. I knew he’d never abandon me, not for anything. Hanging my camera around my neck, I hopped out of the truck into the afternoon sun, where I already felt like I was sucking meat-flavored steam through a cocktail straw. I’d just have to deal with the nausea. I hustled toward the black and orange pavilion, noting its unclimbable plastic siding and security cameras mounted at the entrance. Maybe I’d have better luck in the back.
I circled around and found luck in the form of a supply truck parked right beside the restaurant. No driver, no cameras, no people. This was my way to the roof.
I hoisted myself onto the hood and made my way up the windshield to the top of the truck. The gap between the truck and building was only two feet, so I made the easy jump. Soon as I hit the roof though, my phone started buzzing in my pocket. This wasn’t an ideal time to take calls, so I let it ring out while I got on my hands and knees to crawl toward the atrium.
When I got to the glass, I peered down below at a buffet hall where six dozen carnivores were dressed for the upcoming Fourth of July weekend and savagely stuffing their smeared, sticky faces with brisket, thighs, and ribs. My stomach surged at this familiar scene. I’d been avoiding the barbecue world for nearly fifteen years, and now that I was looking down on it like some floating deity, I remembered why I’d stayed away. Barbecue didn’t just upset my stomach. From my head to my chest to my teeth, it made me mad everywhere. But I didn’t want to think about why. Not after what I’d done last night.
As I searched the crowd of meat-eaters, I found Ginny, my target, at a table with her sister, her crutches against the wall. I raised my camera to my eye and focused on Ginny’s face. She was teasing Sasha, lifting her brows and puckering her lips, and as she stuck out her tongue, a memory flashed in my head—I was a fourteen-year-old again in an inflatable pool of barbecue sauce with my cousin Annie. My hands shook, releasing the camera, but I jolted my neck back before the camera hit the roof.
That memory was another reminder why I avoided meat, but it made sense why the past was on my mind when Annie was the reason I was on this stakeout. She’d filed her case to investigate Ms. Wolf with my agency yesterday afternoon.
I had no idea though who this Ginny Wolf was to Annie as I placed the burning hot camera back on my face and snapped pictures of Ginny, her crutches, her gold pendant and butterfly tattoo, all material things identifying her.
When she stood up for the buffet, leaving her crutches behind, I videoed the fraudster walking free and easy without them. As I’d thought, another liar.
***
Excerpt from Burnt Ends by Laura Wetsel. Copyright 2024 by Laura Wetsel. Reproduced with permission from CamCat Books. All rights reserved.
Laura Wetsel holds bachelor’s degrees in Russian and English literature from the University of Wisconsin-Madison, and a master’s degree in Russian literature from Northwestern University. She lives in Washington, D.C., with her two cats, Sasha and Ginny Wolf.
While this story is fictional, Burnt Ends was inspired by Laura’s uncle, who ran a successful burger drive-in chain in Ohio, as well as her experience living in Kansas City, Missouri.
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