Verona Montero

Verona Montero loves calling herself a private dick because it makes her sound like she’s in a 1940s detective movie. And it means she gets to say “dick” a lot. So when Miami—a walking Barbie doll with an emoji addiction and bikinis smaller than Verona's patience—needs proof her billionaire husband Javier is cheating, Verona's all over it. Especially when it means working with divorce lawyer Quentin, whose cologne gives her what she professionally diagnoses as “crotch headaches.”

The cocktails: strong. The hookups: messy. The corpse: a real buzzkill. Private investigator Verona Montero hikes fifteen kilometers to a cliff-top lodge in the Canadian Badlands to dodge cheating dirtbags and a crush with better abs than boundaries. She expects R&R. Instead, a sex-bomb named...

A locked room. An obvious suspect. Absolutely nothing adds up. It’s Verona Montero's favorite kind of sh*tshow. Harry Kim died in a locked apartment. No signs of forced entry, windows too small to fit a well-fed Chihuahua. Clean scene. The cops call it an accident. But Verona's best friend...

Perfect for fans of Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum and Elle Cosimano's Finlay Donovan--dead-serious plotting, filthy humor, and a pub full of suspects who've been nursing their grudges longer than their pints. A dead man walking. An axe festival. Only one of these was on her itinerary. Verona...