Former Army brat Molly Owens is ready to put down roots, and the picturesque seaside town of Britton Bay on the Oregon Coast seems like the perfect place for it. Especially when she lands a job as editor of the local paper. But she’s got one colleague who’s very bad news . . .   As an experienced journalist, Molly is eager to bring the struggling Britton Bay Bulletin up to speed. But when she pushes Vernon, one of her less welcoming reporters, to dig a little deeper into the story of a prominent local family, the man ends up dead. The fact that he wasn’t well-liked makes finding the killer extra complicated. The lists of suspects range from his ex-wife to his own son to Molly’s boss, who has a secret of his own. But when Molly’s attempts to sleuth out the truth result in her receiving frightening threats, the trouble is just beginning . . .   The one bright spot is Molly’s newfound flirtation with Sam Alderich. The sexy mechanic is used to taking things apart and piecing them back together, and between the two of them they just might be able to solve this deadly puzzle—if Molly can survive peaceful small-town life long enough . . . Jody Holford is both a contemporary romance and cozy mystery author. She lives in British Columbia with her family. She's a huge fan of Rainbow Rowell, Nora Roberts, Carly Phillips, Lori Foster, Sarah Fox, & Agatha Frost. She's unintentionally funny and rarely on time for anything. She has an equal amount of love for writing and reading the sigh-worthy moments in a book. Deadly News A Britton Bay Mystery By Jody Holford KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP. Copyright © 2018 Jody Holford All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-5161-0869-5 CHAPTER 1 Fated or not, Molly Owens was rethinking her decision to plant roots in the seaside town of Britton Bay. Or at least accepting the job as editor of the town's small, failing newspaper. The name of the little city by the ocean had called to her, but at the moment, tension pumped through the room like a stereo with too much bass as Alan Benedict introduced her to his staff of four. All eyes were on her, making her stomach clench in tight spasms. At least Alan's voice was steady and kind. "Molly has a double degree in journalism and literature. She's a remote editor for several large-scale magazines and has even worked with a couple of publishing houses as a freelance editor. We're very lucky she's agreed to join the Britton Bay Bulletin. As you all know, I've been spread a little thin lately and Molly is going to be my right hand." "Welcome. Again," Elizabeth Grover said, a tight smile on her unpainted lips. They'd met when Molly had arrived this morning. Elizabeth was probably in her fifties, and Molly knew she wrote most of the small pieces for the online and print versions of the paper. After accepting the position via email and phone interviews, Molly had done a bit of research on both the staff and the paper. Elizabeth was somewhat reserved, even though she'd been nothing but polite. The young man seated to Elizabeth's right gave a different kind of smile — one Molly didn't want to dwell on for too long. The kind that most people — women especially — would look away from. Molly held his gaze, unwilling to show discomfort. From the corner of his upturned lips, a dark blue pen cap was sticking out. He pulled it out to speak. "Nice to meet you," he said, running a hand through his blond, slightly shaggy hair. "I'm Clay. I'm only here part-time. I do some of the photography and the social media. What there is of it, anyway." Laughing like he'd shared a joke, Clay put the cap back in his mouth — a plastic toothpick. Molly nodded and locked eyes with the man to Clay's left. It was his scowling face that suppressed any joy she might have felt over a position she'd been excited to take. She almost preferred the lecherous grin of the younger man to the simmering anger burning in this man's eyes. "You want to introduce yourself, Vernon?" Alan asked, sending Molly an apologetic look. She tried to smile reassuringly, but nerves zipped around her stomach like horses on a racetrack. Breathe. You're meant to be here. When he said nothing, she filled in the silence. "I've read several of your articles, Vernon. You've got a great knack for headlines," Molly said, hoping her olive branch wouldn't be whacked down with a chain saw. The older man, who looked a little like an unfriendly Albert Einstein with white tufts of hair growing from either side of his head like rainbows over his ears, snorted derisively. He looked up from the furious spirals he was drawing with a black pen on a bright yellow Post-it note. "Well, gee, thanks. Means a lot coming from someone your age. What are you? Twenty?" Molly curled her fingers together on top of the long mahogany table. Like the paper, she bet that in its glory days, it had been a thing of beauty. Now, it was weathered and scarred, marks creating a map of lines over the once glossy surface. She wasn't