MISTLETOE MEDIUM, #3 in the Lottie Baldwin Mystery series, is now available at a special price: $.99! So now's the time to get your copy at a bargain price.

No sooner does psychic Lottie Baldwin pull up stakes and move to Cheyenne, North Dakota, than she finds herself up to her neck in a series of mysterious robberies. Can Lottie and the handsome new man in her life, deputy sheriff Harlan Erikson, solve the crime spree before Lottie becomes the next victim?

Lottie Baldwin glanced in her rearview mirror and frowned. Why hadn’t her tarot cards foreseen this? Red flashing lights reflected from the revolving dome atop a sheriff’s car, trailing directly behind her. After driving four hundred miles, the final hundred with the afternoon sun glaring in her eyes, the last thing she needed was a speeding ticket. She eased off the accelerator and pulled into the breakdown lane of the small, two-lane highway.

The sheriff’s car stopped behind her and a tall, muscular man in a black uniform got out. Lottie watched him in the mirror, absentmindedly patting her tousled blond curls into place, fascinated by the lithe way he moved. She’d never been interested in the law-and-order type, but this man might be the one who could change her mind. She opened her window, letting in the unseasonably mild early-December air.

He leaned down and removed his sunglasses. “May I see your license and registration, please?”

“Of course, Sheriff,” Lottie said, smiling briefly to bring her dimples into view as she read his badge—Lake County, North Dakota Sheriff’s Department. He was even more gorgeous up close, with dark blue eyes and broad shoulders that strained the top buttons of his shirt. The setting sun tinged his blond hair coppery-gold, and a light breeze brought the subtle scent of his spicy aftershave to her nostrils. His proximity made her light-headed. “What’s the problem? Was I speeding?” she asked innocently as she rummaged in the bottom of her purse for her driver’s license.

“You were going sixty-eight in a fifty-five zone, ma’am,” he said, accepting her license and registration.

“I’m sorry, Sheriff. I’ve been on the road since six this morning. I guess I was anxious for the trip to be over.” She smiled again, more intimately this time.

“Lottie Baldwin,” he read from her driver’s license. “Blond hair, gray eyes. From New York?”

“Not anymore.” She shook her head. “I’m moving to Cheyenne and I’m so sorry to make such a poor first impression on the local law enforcement. Can we start over?” She extended her hand.

The officer studied her for a minute then grasped her hand in his. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am. My name is Harlan Erikson. I’m a deputy sheriff here and, as lovely as you are, I’m afraid I’m going to have to write you a ticket.”

As their hands touched, tingles shot up Lottie’s arm. Lovely, was she? The man had good taste! “You just do what you have to do,” she purred. “I respect a man who does his job.” She made no move to withdraw her hand, letting it lie trustingly in his.

* * *


OBSERVANT ORACLE, a short Lottie Baldwin Mystery story, is now available for purchase! I hope you’ll check out Lottie’s latest adventures with Harlan, and her tarot cards.


Who murdered the Cheyenne State University student? Was it a crime of opportunity or of passion? Can deputy sheriff Harlan Erikson solve the case? More importantly, can he keep his fiancée, impulsive psychic
Lottie Baldwin, from getting impatient and snooping on her own?


Harlan shook his head, but followed Lottie into the underbrush. Though he had no way to explain her psychic powers, he’d seen them verified time and again. When she got a feeling, he’d learned to pay attention.

 Lottie gave a strangled cry and stopped abruptly, causing Harlan to collide with her. He grabbed her shoulders to keep them both upright. “What is it?”

She raised a shaking finger and pointed. “There.”

He looked where she indicated. An arm clad in red plaid flannel protruded from a large pile of leaves in a shallow depression in the ground, three feet off the path. “Stand back,” he said, sweeping her behind him with one arm. Then he strode to the body. Though he could tell at a glance that there was no hope–the hand protruding from the sleeve was mottled and swollen–he knelt down and felt the wrist for a pulse. As he feared, there was none. The skin was cold and hard. “Damn.”

“Can I help?” Lottie’s small voice came from behind him. He turned to her. Her face was as white as a wedding gown.

“Sit down,” he said. “Before you fall down.”

She laughed shakily. “No, I’m okay. Really. What can I do?”

He assessed her. She appeared unnerved, her body trembling, but Lottie was no wilting flower. She was tough. She’d been through worse. “Okay. If you really want to…” He waited for her nod. “Go back to the patrol car and call for help. Can you find your way to the car?”

She nodded again. “I think so. Yes, I can.”

“Good. When you get there, push the number three button on the radio, then press the button on the microphone to talk. Tell the dispatcher who you are, that you’re with me, and what we found. They’ll know what to do. Tell them to send the coroner. Then, stay there until they arrive and lead them back here. Got that?”

“Yes. Will you be all right here alone?”

Harlan grimaced. “Whoever did this is long gone. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

She shivered, then gave him what was no doubt intended as a reassuring smile, though the effect was ghastly.

He nodded encouragement. She turned and was soon lost to sight in the heavy undergrowth. With a sigh, Harlan turned his attention back to the crime scene and the unfortunate victim.

 * * *

Visit Tirgearr Publishing here: to order your copy today. Enjoy!