\u00a0 Interspersed with riddles and puzzles that both Destiny and the reader Title: <\/span>A Most Puzzling Murder<\/span> \u00a0<\/span><\/b><\/span><\/span> PURCHASE LINKS ABOUT THE AUTHOR\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n BIANCA MARAIS cohosts the popular podcast The AUTHOR LINKS \u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/p>\n EXCERPT\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/p>\n CHAPTER 1<\/span><\/b><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Destiny<\/span><\/i><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Sunday, 9:57 a.m.<\/span><\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Destiny Whip warily eyes her bedside table, When you\u2019re declared a child prodigy, Balancing her laptop on her knees, she Bex appears in Destiny\u2019s doorway, leaning Her best friend is still too scrawny, but \u201cYou okay?\u201d Bex asks, the corners of her It\u2019s the anniversary of the accident today, Some people act like severe depression is a Destiny tries to speak, but a knot of Her laptop suddenly squawks with an As the ringing continues, Destiny gently Bex sidles up next to her, reading over her 1. Leave the apartment once a day to go for 2. Reach out to an old friend or colleague 3. Replace all the dead plants. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n 4. Keep a dream journal about the 5. Email the council expressing your wish 6. Accept one of the consultancies that 7. Work on forgiving Nate. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n 8. Limit your interactions with Bex.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Bex side-eyes the last item on the list. Rather than answering Bex or the incoming She\u2019s ticked nothing off the list, not even The laptop\u2019s ringing grates on Destiny\u2019s It\u2019s no use. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n For how can she possibly cut ties with Bex, Plus, there\u2019s no way the Council of When the call finally drops, Bex exhales, a They both look down at the wallpaper on the It\u2019s a photo that was taken thirteen years Jutting her chin at Destiny\u2019s mother, Bex Destiny nods before turning her attention The image was captured two weeks before Liz There were times in the before <\/i>when But this is not loneliness, in the same way \u201cI\u2019m so sorry that you\u2019re having such a God, that Bex is apologizing to her<\/i>, \u201cNo, I\u2019m <\/i>sorry,\u201d Destiny says, her \u201cNot gonna happen,\u201d Bex replies breezily. Destiny laughs at how incredibly bossy Bex Especially for a dead person. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Still, it\u2019s reassuring that no matter how Excerpted from A Most \u00a0<\/span><\/b><\/span><\/i><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n![](\"https:\/\/blogger.googleusercontent.com\/img\/b\/R29vZ2xl\/AVvXsEiZru0u37rwQQOCrl8D2o8cUXnUA4J0B_6Il_dUBE2c8eaxLLmz3ofzrSdSQISfEqinanKpPZNu1nAJiTUM-bDSwe6-d2SCuE4MV_tRvjOIAw_FUBZbMYObIkw0LyRfeyWPxHOHTCTepkCjZVIapjpsAQnOJNCeeAAID7UJyzse1yODoni1Fr2rMKuwhI_Z\/s1600\/HTP-Banner---Summer-2025%20(1).jpg\")
\u00a0<\/a><\/p>\n
\nmust solve,\u00a0A Most Puzzling Murder is a one-of-a-kind mystery that will
\nleave you guessing and gasping until the very last page!<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n<\/a><\/i><\/span><\/div>\n
Author: <\/span>Bianca Marais<\/span>
Genre: <\/span>Mystery, Detective<\/span>
Publisher: <\/span>MIRA, Harlequin Books<\/span>
Release Date: <\/span>10th June 2025<\/span><\/b><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
BLURB<\/b><\/span><\/span>
Destiny Whip is a former child prodigy, world-renowned enigmatologist and very, very alone. A life filled with loss has made her a recluse, an existence she\u2019s content to endure until a letter arrives inviting her to interview for the position of Scruffmore family historian. Not only does an internet search for the name yield almost nothing, it\u2019s a role she never applied to in the first place!
<\/span><\/span>
She decodes the invitation’s hidden message with ease, and its promise to reveal her family secrets proves too powerful a draw for the orphaned Destiny, who soon finds herself on Eerie Island. It\u2019s a place whose inhabitants are almost as inhospitable as the tempestuous weather. The Scruffmores themselves turn out to be not much better, a snarled mess of secrets and motives connected by their mistrust for one another.
<\/span><\/span>
Their newly arrived guest proves to be just as much an enigma to them as they are to her. While Destiny slowly works to unravel the mysteries hidden throughout the ominous castle, she struggles to interpret disturbing nightly visions of what is to come. In the midst of cryptic ciphers, hidden passages, and the family\u2019s magical line of succession, Destiny is certain of two things: one of the Scruffmores is going to die and she\u2019s running out of time to stop it.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
Amazon<\/a>
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Libro.FM<\/a>
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Walmart<\/a>\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n<\/a><\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
\nShit No One Tells You About Writing, which is aimed at helping emerging writers
\nget published. She teaches creative writing through the podcast and was named a
\nwinner of the Excellence in Teaching Award for Creative Writing at the
\nUniversity of Toronto\u2019s School of Continuing Studies. She lives in Toronto,
\nwhere she loves playing escape-room games and writing about strong female
\nprotagonists.\u00a0<\/b><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
Author website: https:\/\/www.biancamarais.com\/<\/a>
Facebook: https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/biancamaraisauthor<\/a>
Twitter: https:\/\/twitter.com\/biancam_author\/<\/a>
Instagram: https:\/\/www.instagram.com\/biancamarais_author\/<\/a><\/span><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/p>\n
\nthinking how it could easily be mistaken for a miniature graveyard, what with
\nall the little pills neatly lined in staggered rows, positioned upright like
\ntiny headstones. It certainly feels as though she\u2019s regarding the burial ground
\nof her hopes and dreams, haunted by the spec\u00adter of the enormous potential
\nshe\u2019s so dismally failed to live up to.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\neveryone expects you to go far in life, but all Destiny has managed today is a
\nslow shuffle to and from the bathroom. Even that required Hercu\u00adlean reserves
\nof energy.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nreaches to the far\u00adthest side of the bed for her emotional-support urn, pulling
\nit close and tucking it into her armpit as though cuddling a teddy bear. She
\nkisses the top of the teardrop shape, the metal cold against her chapped lips.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nher head against the frame. \u201cGood morning.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nnot nearly as emaci\u00adated as she was a year ago when all she feasted on was
\nbeauty magazines and models\u2019 Instagram pages rather than anything resembling
\nfood. Bex looks mostly healthy again, her long chestnut hair gleaming, the
\nhollows of her cheeks no longer reminiscent of sinkholes. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nmouth turned down. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\none year somehow crawling by on scraped knees. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\ntarnish, one that can be polished off with the application of enough elbow
\ngrease. Luckily, Bex isn\u2019t one of them. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nregret is so tangled up in her throat that the words don\u2019t stand a chance. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nincoming video call. In the months that Destiny has been seeing Dr. Shepherd,
\nthey\u2019ve never once had a virtual consultation over a weekend. But today is
\ngoing to be a tough one, which is why the psychiatrist in\u00adsisted on the
\nappointment. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nplaces the urn be\u00adside her and instinctively reaches for her notebook before
\npag\u00ading to the list of tasks the doctor assigned last month. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nshoulder. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\na walk or grab a coffee. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nto suggest a meetup. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nwhite-haired ghost woman. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nto return. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nyou\u2019ve been offered (one that doesn\u2019t require travel). <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\n\u201cRude,\u201d she huffs. \u201cYou\u2019d think I was a bad inf luence or something.\u201d <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\ncall, Destiny thinks of how she\u2019s never f lunked an assignment in her entire
\nlife. Always top of her class, and despite being admitted to uni\u00adversity as a
\ntwelve-year-old, Destiny cannot fathom this de\u00adgree of failure. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nthrowing away the plants whose shriveled corpses goad her, their untimely
\ndeaths undoubtedly due to the curtains constantly being drawn tight. That, and
\nDestiny forgetting to water them. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nnerves, but she can\u2019t force herself to answer and face Dr. Shepherd\u2019s
\ndisappointment. It will be carefully concealed, of course, with the
\npsychiatrist gently pointing out there\u2019s always next week, or the week after
\nthat, to achieve these seemingly simple goals. But it doesn\u2019t mat\u00adter how much
\nof an extension Destiny is given. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nwho\u2019s her dear\u00adest, not to mention only, friend? <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nEnigmatologists will take her back after she\u2019s been AWOL for so long. Each time
\nan envelope drops through the mail slot, Destiny fully expects it to be a
\nletter informing her that they\u2019ve completely revoked her membership. It hurts
\nto remember how thrilled she was to be appointed president of the prestigious
\ngroup just thirteen months ago, and how she, Bex, and Nate all splurged on a
\nfancy dinner to celebrate. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nlong whoosh of defeat. \u201cI know I shouldn\u2019t enable you with all the talking, but
\nit\u2019s not like I can call anyone on your behalf.\u201d <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nhome screen of Destiny\u2019s laptop. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nago when Destiny was eight. In it, her mother\u2019s arm is f lung across Annie\u2019s
\nshoul\u00adders, happiness radiating from the two best friends in waves. Destiny\u2019s
\neyes fill with tears as she studies her mother\u2019s straight black hair and pale
\nskin, and those enormous glasses obscur\u00ading most of her face. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nmurmurs, \u201cI wish I\u2019d known Liz.\u201d <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nto Annie, with her striking Afro and beaded shoulder-duster earrings, and her
\nsmile as bright as the sun. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\ndied. A year later, the paperwork went through to officially make Annie
\nDestiny\u2019s second adoptive mother. Their deaths were a wrench\u00ading loss, a
\ntearing in the fabric of Destiny\u2019s being that she never quite stitched back
\ntogether. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nDestiny experienced the sting of loneliness, that awful yearning of the one
\nforever stuck outside, nose and palms pressed against the cold glass, gaz\u00ading
\nin at what belonging looked like: foreheads bent together, raucous laughter
\nelicited by inside jokes, sentences finished by those who knew you best. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nthat a drop of water is not a deluge, the way a sigh is not a hurricane. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nrough time of it,\u201d Bex says, reaching out to tuck a f laming red curl behind
\nDestiny\u2019s ear. She freezes upon seeing Destiny\u2019s expression, her hand hov\u00adering
\nlike a ghost between them. \u201cA year is a long time, though, and Dr. Shepherd is
\nright despite the fact that she clearly has it in for me. You need to move on.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nof all people, when ev\u00aderything that happened was Destiny\u2019s fault. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nvoice pulled so taut that it snaps. Seeing the pills all standing to
\nattention\u2014no longer a cemetery full of headstones, but rather an army ready to
\nfight the last battle\u2014Destiny reaches for the urn again, stroking it like a
\nsecurity blanket. \u201cIf you stop talking to me, Bex, I don\u2019t know what I\u2019d do.\u201d <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nAnd then more firmly she says, \u201cOkay, it\u2019s tough love time. You seriously need
\nto shower because you\u2019re stinking up the place. Plus, the kitchen needs
\ncleaning. Those take-out containers have grown thumbs. I swear I caught them
\ntrying to hitch a ride to the nearest pri\u00admordial swamp.\u201d <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nis. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nmuch has changed, some things stay exactly the same.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nPuzzling Murder by Bianca Marais, Copyright <\/span><\/b>\u00a9<\/span><\/b> 2025 by Bianca Marais. Published by MIRA Books.\u00a0<\/span><\/b><\/span><\/i><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n