Murder at Meadows Lake Clubhouse (Soup the Supernatural Kitten Mysteries Book 1)

A Supernatural Sleuth with a Sixth Sense

When widowed and newly retired realtor Rose Fairchild relocates from Long Island to the quiet 55+ community of Meadows Lake in South Carolina, she’s not just leaving behind a house full of memories—she’s stepping into a mystery only she can unravel. Haunted by visions and compelled by the sudden appearance of a disappearing orange kitten, Rose discovers her late husband and beloved cat have sent her an unlikely guide from beyond: Soup, a wisecracking, supernatural feline with a tragic past and a mission.

Rose's new life quickly turns anything but peaceful when a murder rocks the community clubhouse. The victim? A nosy cook with a penchant for uncovering the secrets of others. Drawn into the investigation by the local sheriff and driven by her own intuition—and Soup’s uncanny talents—Rose must navigate nosy neighbors, cryptic visions, and a tangled web of lies to uncover the truth. But with threats mounting and secrets surfacing, solving the case might take more than a sixth sense. It may take trust, teamwork... and a little help from one very unusual cat.

Start your journey into the Soup the Supernatural Kitten Mystery series with Murder at Meadows Lake Clubhouse—a heartwarming and twist-filled cozy mystery where fresh starts meet feline guidance and second chances just might lead to new beginnings. Dive in today.

Excerpt from the book

The House

Rose was devastated. Her husband died a week after her beloved cat, Moxie. Because of the sixth sense she’d possessed since childhood, she should’ve been prepared for both tragedies, but one is never prepared when loved ones pass away.

She and Harvey had so many plans. They’d retired from their jobs the previous year—she from selling real estate on Long Island and he from his accounting firm. She still had the brochures they’d been browsing in hopes of vacationing in exotic locales. They hadn’t done much traveling in the thirty-five years they’d been married. She regretted that. They had no children but always had cats. She wasn’t thrilled about leaving Moxie with a cat sitter, especially since, at fifteen, her pretty calico was diabetic and needed daily insulin injections. But the prospect of them traveling was avoided when Harvey was diagnosed with cancer the month after he retired. Then followed the chemo and the drugs, his hair loss, the pain he hid from her. Moxie, as if sensing Harvey’s discomfort, spent days in bed with him. Like cats who hide their pain, she didn’t show Rose how ill she was, and because of her concern for Harvey, Rose’s intuition never picked up how sick Moxie was.

Now, lying in bed gazing at a photo of Harvey holding Moxie, tears slid down Rose’s cheeks. Her cell phone rang, but she let it go to voicemail. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. When it rang again, she silenced it, not even bothering to check who was calling. Her sixth sense, though weakened by her loss, told her it was her friend and fellow realtor, Diane Baxter. They’d worked for the same real estate firm until Rose’s retirement. Rose met Diane and her husband at a company party that Harvey also attended. They invited the couple to dinner, and a close friendship developed between them. Diane and Phil had attended Harvey’s wake and funeral and had donated to the American Cancer Society. Phil had offered to help Rose with any chores around the house that she needed. Diane cooked meals that she brought over once a week that only needed to be reheated in the oven or microwave.

Rose was indebted to them, but their kindness didn’t mend the pain in her heart from her double loss.

Still in bed, crying over the photo, Rose knew someone was at the door before she heard the knock. It wasn’t a salesperson. It was Diane who, having had no response to her phone call, was visiting in person. Rose wanted to ignore the knock when it came, but she knew Diane wouldn’t give up, so she put on her slippers and her robe and answered the door.

“Rose, I’ve been worried. Please let me in. I have something important to tell you.” Diane stood there in her tailored pantsuit and high heels, her short dark hair framing her heart-shaped face.