Petals of Suspicion
About the Book
She came to London to grow a future. Instead, she found a mystery in bloom.
Hazel Honeyfield came to London to live with her uncle, the only family she has left, and maybe, just maybe, secure a future of her own. But when she arrives to find him murdered, her spark of hope fades. Honeyfield’s Herbalism may be hers, but so is every secret her uncle left behind. If the whispers about his work ruin his reputation, her future wilts with it.
Armed with bloomcraft, a spellbinding magic rooted in the meanings of flowers, Hazel turns from herbalist to amateur sleuth, navigating London’s expectations of propriety and the Horticultural Society’s scrutiny. Her only clue? A single petal left behind at the scene, unlike anything she’s ever seen.
To protect her inheritance, Hazel must uncover the truth buried in the blooms and contend with Sir Miles William Ellis, a principled gentleman who may be more of a help—or hindrance—than he appears.
Petals of Suspicion is Book 1 in the Blooms of Arcana series, blending fantasy and cozy mystery. Perfect for readers who love Regency-era manners, the language of flowers, and slow-burn romance.
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Read an Excerpt
Unless some poor fool was willing to risk her magic, Hazel Honeyfield was not getting back on that coach. She had already suffered through over half a day of rough rides and long waits for connecting coaches on her journey to London. She couldn’t fathom continuing on for hours more to the center of it. The barren streets there were no place for a woman who had grown up with soil under her nail and grass stains on her boots all her life. She had said as much before and while she knew it was almost wasted breath she opened her mouth once again to her current company, and the only redeeming quality about the trip. “The village will have a hard time without me until the new bloomcrafter shows up.” She stopped her pacing and leaned into her friend, “Who will show him how to tend the spring planting? And make sure he knows who the first blooms go to?”
Her closest friend Lucy, younger than her by two years, fair, tall; all dark springy curls and heart-shaped face under close-fitting bonnet, pressed her hand and said, “He will figure it out Hazel. He has as much experience as you do. Though I know, not with the villagers first hand.”
Having experience harnessing the magical properties of flowers was not the same as understanding the how or even why of bloomcraft. Hazel had lectured on this topic often enough to Lucy. Perhaps another tactic might work on her friend, “I could have still shown this new bloomcrafter the shop and the garden.” Born as she was, in the attic of the three room shop, it had been her home for all her life in Ashwell. She knew every nook and cranny better than she knew herself.
“My father knows you as well as I do, Hazel. You would have the man running back to London quicker than a spooked horse.” Lucy knocked her shoulder into Hazel’s and grinned, “And though I should dearly love to see it, the others, I believe, would not.”
