In the latest in this New York Times bestselling series, San Francisco book-restoration expert Brooklyn Wainwright investigates a mysterious spy novel linked to a string of murders...   Newlyweds Brooklyn and Derek are enjoying the final days of their honeymoon in Paris. As they're browsing the book stalls along the Seine, Brooklyn finds the perfect gift for Derek, a first edition James Bond novel, The Spy Who Loved Me . When they bump into Ned, an old friend from Derek’s spy days, Brooklyn shows him her latest treasure.   Once they're back home in San Francisco, they visit a spy shop Ned mentioned. The owner begs them to let him display the book Brooklyn found in Paris as part of the shop's first anniversary celebration. Before they agree, Derek makes sure the security is up to snuff—turns out, the unassuming book is worth a great deal more than sentimental value.   Soon after, Derek is dismayed when he receives a mysterious letter from Paris announcing Ned’s death. Then late one night, someone is killed inside the spy shop. Are the murders connected to Brooklyn's rare, pricey book? Is there something even more sinister afoot? Brooklyn and the spy who loves her will have to delve into the darkest parts of Derek's past to unmask an enemy who's been waiting for the chance to destroy everything they hold dear. Praise for Kate Carlisle's Fixer-Upper Mysteries "[An] immensely satisfying page-turner of mystery."--Jenn McKinlay,  New York Times  bestselling author "I fell for this feisty, take-charge heroine and readers will, too."--Leslie Meier,  New York Times bestselling author "Another winner from one of the leaders in the genre!"-- RT Book Reviews "Carlisle's second contractor cozy continues to please with its smart, humorous heroine and plot. Fans of Sarah Graves's Home Repair Is Homicide series will appreciate this title as a solid read-alike."-- Library Journal "Highly entertaining...Quick, clever, and somewhat edgy...Shannon's not a stereotype--she's a person, and an interesting, intelligent, likable one at that, which makes it easy to become invested in her tale."--Smitten by Books Kate Carlisle is the New York Times bestselling author of the Bibliophile Mysteries, including Buried in Books and Once Upon a Spine , as well as the Fixer-Upper Mysteries, including A Wrench in the Works and Eaves of Destruction . ***This excerpt is from an advance uncorrected copy proof*** Copyright © 2018 Kate Carlisle Chapter 1 It was our last day in Paris. My husband (and yes, I was really loving that word—a lot) Derek and I had breakfast on the private terrace of the hotel suite, enjoying the spectacular view of the city that was spread out before us. Nearby, the tall, thin spire of the American Cathedral speared up into the sky like a javelin. The immense Eiffel Tower loomed impressively in the distance. There was a smattering of fluffy white clouds dotting the blue sky and the early morning sunshine reflected brightly off the windows of the surrounding buildings. The air was still cool but I could already feel it beginning to warm up. Lovely Paris was pulling out all the stops for our last day. Derek watched me grab a thin slice of delectable Iberico ham from the small plate of charcuterie and I couldn’t help but smile. Not because of the ham, which was utterly delicious and melted in my mouth, but because it had been three weeks since our wedding and I still felt a tingle up my spine whenever I saw his stunning face and thought about those three little words: my husband Derek. I shook my head. Honestly, on any normal day I wouldn’t be so consumed by such sappy, besotted thoughts. But who could blame me? He’s so gorgeous, I thought. With those dark blue eyes, so intense, so intelligent. And his mouth, whew. His lips could twist into a sensual, roguish smile when least expected. He was tall, dark, and dangerous, and he was all mine. Maybe I was suffering from some kind of honeymoon fever, because lately, with just the right look or tilt of his head, Derek could render me light-headed and woozy. Who was I kidding? I’d been ridiculously smitten from the very first time we met. And oddly enough, according to Derek, the feeling was entirely mutual. That first time had occurred about two years ago during a fancy charity gala at the Covington Library. It was the night my mentor was found—by me—dying in a pool of his own blood. Murdered. Derek had been in charge of a security detail guarding the priceless books and antiquities on display. I had seen him stalking the crowded floor, studying faces, observing body language, watching reactions, looking completely isolated despite the crowd. He was lean and muscular in a gazillion-dollar charcoal suit; his eyes were darkly compelling as he scanned the room. And when our gazes met, he frowned at me. Frowned! It was annoying, to say the least. Days later, though, he had explained his reaction by saying that I had taken him by surprise. “What’s that sup