The scandal was the slap. The murder was worse.

Penelope Covens slapped the most composed man at the pool bar in front of half of Crimson Canyon, and for one day, that was the whole scandal. Then a visiting lounge singer vanished after humiliating her sweetest neighbor at dinner, and every clue at the scene led back to her own row of casitas.

The sheriff found a wrecked hotel room, a borrowed jacket, and just enough blood to convict the wrong man. Penelope read it differently: too little blood, too tidy a struggle, a jacket planted like a signed confession. She knows exactly one creature capable of leaving a room that clean—and she used to love him.

He's the only man who ever made her feel like less of a monster. Now she has to decide if that's a reason to trust him, or the reason she never should have.

Is Nikolaos a killer, or is Penelope's heart lying to her again? Grab Dead on Arrival before the next Crimson Canyon barbecue turns into a crime scene.

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