Hello, friends, this week I’m sharing a sneak peek of my historical mystery The Monarch Alliance—and the story behind how it came to be.
It all began with a simple hotel review assignment.
I arrived at Mohonk Mountain House as a travel blogger, expecting to write about its Victorian charm, mountain views, and rich history.
But somewhere between the quiet paths, the lake, and the sense of stories lingering in the walls… something shifted.
The setting didn’t just feel historic—it felt alive with secrets.
What began as a routine visit turned into something more. A question took hold: What stories had been hidden here… and why?
That question wouldn’t let me go—and it became The Monarch Alliance.
The Prologue: The Monarch Alliance
Shadows bled across the walls as thunder growled beyond the mountains—a warning disguised as nature itself.
A solitary figure stepped onto the balcony, fingers gripping the iron railing to steady herself against the wind. The lake below, usually calm and glassy, churned in a roiling mass of silver and slate.
The squall was coming fast. Different this time—wild, untamed, insistent.
Before she could move another gust swept through, tangling her dress around her legs like grasping hands. She stumbled backward into the room, just as the wind ripped the door from her grasp, slamming it shut with a deafening crack.
Once inside, a glance at the clock on the mantel told her she’d stalled as long as she could. Storm or no storm, it was time to go. Gripped by trepidation, she snatched the folded letter from her desk and moved with urgency into the hall and down the stairs.
The wind outside howled like a chorus of lost voices, making it seem less like a storm—and more like an omen.
She made it down the stairs without incident and slid the heavy parlor door aside. The moment it opened, a blinding flash lit the room—followed by a thunderclap so violent it felt like the earth itself tore open.
Then came darkness, utter and complete.
Walking forward blindly, she found the back of a chair and grasped it, seeking the stability it offered until she could get her bearings. Using the fireplace as a landmark, she pulled the letter from her pocket with trembling fingers. She wanted to place it quickly and go back to the safety of her room.
At that moment the storm seemed to pause outside, as if the world itself was holding its breath. In the suffocating silence, she felt someone come up behind her.
“Abigail.”
The voice, low and close, sent a chill of fear up her spine, yet it was familiar enough to stop the scream rising in her throat.
Before she could respond, arms enveloped her from behind, pulling her into an embrace that was as powerful as it was unexpected. There was strength in the way he held her—an unspoken promise of safety—steady, comforting, and threaded with secrets.
Yet there was something else there, too. Risk. Ruin. A truth too heavy to carry.
“Why are you here?” she asked, her voice tremulous, as she turned around. “What if—”
When he laid a single finger on her lips, she felt him tremble—and that, more than anything, stilled her. She knew this reaction wasn’t from fear, and it wasn’t from weakness. He was stronger than anyone she knew.
It had to be the weight of what he carried—a truth too heavy, too sacred, to speak without care.
She remained motionless, breathless with anticipation, knowing whatever he shared next would matter more than she could yet understand.
“Not all things lost are truly gone.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “And not all things hidden are beyond your reach.”
She felt the words settle over her like the darkness—complete, impenetrable, and full of meaning she could not yet grasp.