Hi, friends!

What a severe winter season it’s been. We’ve had snow in Florida this year, and now early next week, we will be chilly again. I hope this weekend finds you in a cozy space with lots to read.

I am not a resolution woman, but I love a good recap of the previous year during January so that I can reassess.

What worked?

What didn’t?

What are my goals for 2026, based on that information?

Well, learning about social media and being consistent did NOT work in a tangible way, such as reaching 1500 people on my Instagram. It made me tired, honestly. I will continue posting and interacting, but probably three times a week instead of six or seven.

What worked in a positive way was going to conferences and meeting readers who have become friends. I’ve grown my review team, but I don’t see a lot of traction independent of my posts and giveaways. I consider this a partial win, as I will figure out how to have fun with it without posting every day.

A big win for me was learning how to add books to my website and updating it so it matches my current style.

I love being part of my writing community as well, so I’ve become the VP for Florida Mystery Writers of America, which is also in the plus column.

What worked for you in 2025, and what are you switching up for 2026? Send me an email and tell me about it! We can commiserate or celebrate together.

If you’re in the Winterhaven area, come say hi January 31^st—you’ll notice my favorite thing about 2025 was meeting readers??

Merry Christmas—

A gift for you, in thanks for all that you do: reviews, sharing my books with your family and friends, and just being part of this story journey, means so much.

My wish for you this holiday season is peace and joy no matter what or how you celebrate.

This book is a romantic suspense about Gemma and Bryce, and it was the first in the West Coast series. There are three so far but each are stand-alone novels and connected by place. Dogs are a big part of the storylines 😊

Here is a short excerpt:

Chapter One

“I’m on my way,” Gemma told the dispatcher for Misty Beach Police Force, her foot accelerating on the gas pedal of her patrol car from thirty miles an hour to forty, then fifty. Traffic on the two-lane main drag was clear as she sped toward the edge of town, leaving the strip of businesses behind for pine trees and older homes.

“Angie seems bad this time,” Corrine said with concern. The dispatcher was fifty and sounded like she consumed a pack of Marlboro reds a day though she’d never smoked. She’d told Gemma that her online degree in psychology gave her an insight into human nature—though men she’d never understand. “Slurring her words.”

Gemma turned left onto Anchor Road, confident she could handle Jimmy Peterson. Unfortunately, this was not the first time, or even the tenth, that she’d responded to a domestic violence situation at the Peterson trailer.

Jimmy regularly smacked Angie Peterson around and when it went too far to Angie’s way of thinking, Angie would phone the cops. He’d go to jail and sober up. Gemma would offer to call the ambulance for Angie, who usually had a cut lip or black eye. Angie would refuse medical help. Gemma’s jaw clenched as she passed the mailboxes at the end of the paved road and turned right, onto a dirt road. The Petersons were half a mile down, toward the beach.

Gemma always reminded Angie that there were programs available to help Angie out of the house and into a new life. Abuse was never, ever okay.

Angie would sob and swear to think about it, refuse all assistance, and go inside to finish her own drink before bailing Jimmy out in the morning. They’d been married ten tumultuous years.

Gemma did her best to not judge. God knows her upbringing had its share of bruises, but as an adult, you had choices. Choice was really what it all boiled down to, at the end of the day. She’d do her best to help Angie leave before it was too late.

She’d gone through the police academy and later earned her bachelor’s degree in criminal justice. Her goal was to keep her community safe. She didn’t need to be chief or sergeant or a detective. She loved being Patrol Officer Cortez.

“I’m here,” she told Corrine.

“Be careful,” the dispatcher rasped.

The unusual warning caused Gemma to pause before exiting the vehicle and ensure she had everything she required for a domestic dispute gone awry. Taser, baton, gun, cuffs. Twelve years of training. She’d joined out of high school with no regrets.

Gemma opened her patrol car door and took stock of the scene. The couple lived on a quarter acre of weeded lot surrounded by pine. The sound of waves hitting the shore behind their property could be heard if you listened real close. Birds and deer had learned to steer clear of the Peterson’s or end up shot for food.

At eight on a late summer Friday evening, the door to the Peterson’s trailer was propped open. Where was their mutt, Rusty? He guarded the lopsided home as if it were a freaking mansion and not a metal box with peeling paint.

Jimmy refused offers to help spruce the place up and she’d overheard Jimmy tell Angie that she didn’t deserve anything nice.

That had stuck with Gemma, who wanted to show Angie that there was more to life than constantly being put down.

“Rusty?” she whispered.

No answer. She searched the surrounding trees. No movement. Under the house? No dog there either.

Alarmed, Gemma fought her first instinct to race into the double-wide and shout Angie’s name. Jimmy usually hollered like a wounded bear when intoxicated and Angie wailed like a banshee. Crickets chirruped. Birds tweeted. Yet something was off that Gemma didn’t like—there was a heavy weight to the air. The peppery tang of…a gun?

For only the third time in twelve years, Gemma unlocked the gun holster at her side and flexed her fingers.

“Angie’s no longer on the line, Gemma,” Corrine said through the radio attached to Gemma’s bullet-resistant vest.

“Kay. Going in. Muting you.”

She pressed the mute button. Corrine would be able to hear Gemma but not the other way around.

Her heart hammered and her mouth dried. This was not the normal Peterson situation. Gemma mentally ran through the memorized rules of police conduct before going inside. Listen. Assess. Act. Do not escalate. Calm.

Gemma stilled and concentrated on the noises around her. The birds belonged. The crickets. The waves crashing to shore.

She considered it a blessing that the Petersons had no children to perpetuate the drinking, drugs, and abuse, as she’d grown up. Gemma had learned to be her own hero—she’d had to be tough to survive and she called on that courage now. Her adrenaline revved as she neared the home.

Half-step, half-step, pause. The television inside the trailer was on low. She heard sniffles and a moan.

Imagining the layout of the trailer she tried to place where that sound was coming from. To the left of the front door was the TV area, to the right, the kitchen. The far back had two small bedrooms and a bathroom.

The sniff came again.

By the front door. Low. As if the person was on the ground.

Had Jimmy knocked Angie unconscious? He was bald, wiry, and mean with maybe six teeth left in his mouth. Ninety pounds at most, Angie was barely five feet. She lived off booze and cigarettes.

Gemma kept her weapon unlocked but holstered, her fingers hovering over the handle in case she needed to grab it fast. The Petersons had licensed weapons for killing game to eat. So far the guns had stayed locked away during their arguments.

Four metal steps led to the entrance. She placed her foot on the bottom step, then stopped to listen for Angie. She squinted and leaned close.

She went up another step.

Evaluated.

The sniffs stopped.

She swallowed. She couldn’t listen any harder as her entire body tensed and assessed. Gemma reached the top stair and peered inside.

It wasn’t Angie on the linoleum floor, but Jimmy. Jimmy lay on his side, his face away from Gemma. She couldn’t see Rusty, or Angie. Blood pooled beneath Jimmy’s head and she leaned down to find a pulse at his jugular.

Faint.

Alive.

She straightened. Scuffling noises came from the back of the trailer. The bedrooms. The landline attached to the kitchen wall had the handset dangling down by the beige cord.

Jimmy was injured. Not Angie on the floor.

Shift gears. “Angie?” she called in a calm tone.

No answer.

Goosebumps broke out over her skin.

This was unlike the many other times she’d been here in this trailer. Usually Jimmy was blubbering his apologies to a righteous Angie by now. This was different.

Gemma entered the living area. TV on the wall—tuned to a sports station. Brown sofa. Coffee table over a throw rug. No Rusty. Nothing out of place.

She checked the open kitchen.

A mug with a lipstick stain sat on the square fake wood table. Coffee. An empty pint of whiskey next to the mug. The chair had been tipped over. A bloody handprint smeared across the refrigerator door.

The glass coffee pot had shattered, shards in the sink. Her dry throat tickled.

No Angie here.

They must have argued over who knew what but it had gotten violent enough for blood. Out of control enough that Angie had called the station.

Gemma peered back at Jimmy on the linoleum by the front door. His eyes were closed tight. A shard of glass protruded from his temple. She’d bet from the coffee pot.

Had Angie fought him? Was she hiding now, with Rusty? Scared that Jimmy would make her pay for not just taking his abuse.

Gemma walked another few steps down the hall, quietly.

“Angie?” She spoke in a low voice, not wanting to startle the woman. Eight pm meant she was probably already well into her hard liquor.

She knocked on the first bedroom door. No answer. She twisted the knob and peered inside. Cardboard boxes listed as towers rose toward the ceiling. Clothes and sheets strewn over the floor were the norm as they used this space for storage.

Angie wasn’t there.

Gemma backed from the room with a calming breath. Peeked into the bathroom next. Nobody there—just the regular mess of toothpaste smudge and soap rings.

She knocked on the last bedroom door. “Angie?”

Sniffles sounded. A low growl.

Relief bowed her shoulders at finding them alive. “Angie. It’s Gemma. Hon, open the door, all right?”

“No.” An inhale of breaths then a defiant, “I can’t.”

“You can. I’m here.” She jiggled the knob. “Come on out.”

The door pulled back and the tiny bottle-blonde showed her face.

Gemma hid her reaction of shock. Jimmy had gone too damn far. Angie had one eye swollen shut, purple and red bruising across her forehead as her other eye was about to close too. Nose bloody.

“I killed him, Gemma.” Angie’s chin quivered. “I did.”

Happy fall!

What better way to celebrate the release of book 7 in the Scottish Shire series, Murder at the Scottish Games, than to have book 1, Murder in a Scottish Shire, on sale? Only 1.99, but for a limited time only!

I can’t believe that it’s been five years since the first book came out. It was during Covid, and the world was a scary space between the riots and fear of being sick. Masks, lack of toilet paper, and gallon jugs of hand sanitizer…Christopher and I went on a road trip (staying two weeks at each family member’s house–starting with Patrice, who is like family, then Sheryl, also like family lol) thinking if it was End Times, we wanted to see those we loved. 

A lot of bookstores were closed but the occasional Barnes & Noble had Murder in a Scottish Shire in stock. We wore masks and took pictures, appreciating that it was on shelves, even though we couldn’t do a traditional book signing.

Books were an escape–both writing them and reading–much like today. 

How do you escape?

I’d love to know if you like to read, or maybe paint, or do puzzles…I used to enjoy singing, until I realized it wasn’t a joyful outlet for those in listening range, lol.

If you’re local, I’ll be at the Pompano Beach Library on Saturday, November 22, being interviewed by Patrick Kenrick. The event will be from 2-4.

Then Sunday, November 23, I’ll be at Barnes & Noble in Fort Lauderdale, again from 2-4.

I love connecting readers over story, so come on by, and let’s chat.

Happy reading!

Traci

If you are not caught up with the Scottish Shire series yet, then now is the time, as Murder at the Scottish Games comes out on Nov. 25^th.  I am so excited, and my narrator for the series, Beverley A. Crick has also let me know that she’s recorded it, and loved it, so it will also be available for preorder.

If you enjoy the Scottish Shire series, or the Salem B&B series, or the Irish Castle series, and you like to know super-secret behind the scenes stuff about my books, well I would love it if you’d join my review team on Facebook. I give away monthly prizes, and this month, because Murder at the Scottish Games comes out on 11.25, I am giving away a Grand Prize in addition to the others. I am thankful for the buzz you all get going by sharing your thoughts and creating excitement. Each review you do gets one entry on the prize wheel. How can you read it before it comes out?

I have a special code on NetGalley, that’s how 😊 Here it is : https://www.netgalley.com/catalog/book/657799

The next drawing will be Nov 14^th, so head on over my review team page!

Facebook group https://www.facebook.com/groups/652326112672533

Thank you!

Traci

I have been enjoying the fall season—in a Florida way. The breezes change perception as it is warm—81 at nine in the morning, but the cloudy skies and wind make it “seem” cooler. Christopher and I like to walk at Snyder Park, which is loaded with trees for shade, so we even get the leaves to crunch.

I was in Oakmont, PA in September, and it was the real deal. Oaks and pine trees. Falling leaves. The tradeoff is they have actual cold winters with snow, while I just need to watch out for falling lizards if we get temps below 50. I like being in the subtropics and prefer the heat to the cold. My hubby (a Florida native) doesn’t so much, so we have compromised on moving up the coast, eventually, toward Amelia Island. I’ve been in Florida for over 25 years, which practically makes me a native. My goal? To be a snowbird with a home part-time in the Pacific Northwest.

I will be hanging out on the Cozy Mystery Lovers page tomorrow from 4-5, and offering two separate giveaways for books—Mrs. Morris and the Day of the Dead AND an ARC of Murder at the Scottish Games.

I hope to see you there!

Traci

Last weekend my husband and I decided to take an impromptu trip, and drove to Amelia Island, six hours away. It is as north in Florida as you can get before hitting Georgia. Between life and family and work, we were feeling burned out, so we just…hopped in the car. The deal was to be in the moment—no business, or drama, just us, as a couple. It was a blast!

I love road trips. When Covid happened five years ago, there was so much fear everywhere. Stay home, stay healthy, the virus was in the air, wash your hands, wear a mask. There were riots, and political unrest. It felt like something from a dystopian movie. Christopher and I decided to heck with it and hopped into our SUV. The rules were that you had to remain in one place for two weeks so if you had the virus, you didn’t spread it. We were careful, and ended up staying with friends and family from here to North Carolina, to Chicago, to San Diego, to Washington. Instead of letting that fear trap us, we chose to let it empower us instead.

Time away doing something new was a huge refresh for our mental health. We had never been to Amelia Island before, and were so surprised by all of the green, and parks, in addition to the lovely coast. Well, we didn’t realize that there was a big storm, so some of our outdoor activities were curtailed, but we still had fun.

We stayed at the cutest Airbnb called the Sea Cottages.  We had wonderful meals from beach food at Sliders, to breakfast at the Beach Diner.  I would love to have done a ghost tour, but they only offer them on Thursdays LOL. Right? It was a little strange, and not your typical tourist hours. We stopped at the Book Loft (of course we did!) and gathered ghost stories at the oldest bar in Florida, the Palace Saloon.

I can’t wait to go back again 😊

Do you have somewhere near you that you can drive to that is a vacation close to home?

This Friday, we are back to the grind, but it was really a wonderful getaway.

<3

Traci

I love Halloween, and fall, and the sound of crunching leaves when you walk down the sidewalk, which I experienced while in Oakmont PA last weekend. What a beautiful little town with all of these Victorian/brick homes, oak trees, and wraparound porches. Sunday morning, there was legit fog and this mom and baby deer coming through it like a Disney movie. I saw blue jays, cardinals, and fat, sassy squirrels. It was the perfect fall-vibe reset for this Florida girl. We sold lots of books and met amazing readers during the library event hosted by Mystery Lovers Bookshop—and they have signed stock, if you are interested in autographed copies.

While doing my newsletter this morning, I realized that Mrs. Morris and the Day of the Dead, as well as Death at an Irish Village, both take place in the fall. I love Halloween and all things spooky, and we have a month-long array of horror movies at our house. We started off light, with Tucker & Dale VS Evil—a hilarious spoof on the college-kids camping trope. Things will get darker as the month progresses. And after that, is Thanksgiving, near to my heart because it’s about sharing food with friends and family.

Which feels most fall to you? Let me know in the comments!

A) 👉 Cider / Sweater / Book B) 👉 Pumpkin / Socks / Walk C)👉 Give me your favorite fall thing!

I’m an A 🙂

I’ve included a photo from the Mystery Lovers Bookshop event.

Happy fall!

Traci

I’m giving myself kudos for following through with my marketing lessons, even though it’s hard and I wonder if it matters because there is so much behind the scenes that you have to take on faith lol. Do the posts I create really reach readers? I just don’t know. I do know that my website and social media pages look more professional, so no matter what, that is a win.

What I love about the way Shelby teaches is that this is another way to connect with readers, which is what my writing journey is about. I have promised to post consistently through December and then study the statistics. In the meantime, I’ve learned so much.

I got wonderful news this month about another Scottish Shire book in the series—I think it will be titled Murder at a Scottish Book Club, and then my other publisher is interested in a haunted bookshop cozy. I’ve just finished edits for my new Cider Falls Orchard book, Apple Pies and Poisoned Lies—I hope to be able to share the cover before Thanksgiving. It’s so cute!

I’ve been blown away by the continued fabulous reviews for Mrs. Morris and the Day of the Dead, as well as Death at an Irish Village. I am truly humbled by them—and yes, I’ve cried a few tears myself over the final book in the Salem B&B series.

Let me know your thoughts—I will be in PA next week at the Mystery Lovers Bookshop for a mini cozy con event, and I would love to meet up if you’re around! Sept. 27th, from 10-1 <3

In my 20-plus years of attending writer’s conferences, I have to say that Bouchercon 2025 really tops them all. Not only because it was in a place I love, New Orleans–though San Diego was also gorgeous—it was a combination of participation on my part as well as having my mom be my plus-one, (she’s the best travel partner!) the hotel being easy to navigate (last year at the Gaylord was very confusing) and lots of selections for food from expensive to less so. There was plenty of coffee, and everyone was just so friendly.

I was in the Almost a Murder dinner play with Heather Graham, Lisa Black, Terry Rodgers, Jon Land, Clay Stafford, Kelli Stanley, and Jeff Ayres, which was really a lot of fun despite my lack of acting skill. I met people in the audience, who remembered me later in the elevator. I was on four panels, and I got to meet one of my favorite authors, (besides Heather!) Charlaine Harris. We commiserated over the fact that her series wasn’t continued, and it was one we both loved, Gunnie Rose. Just goes to show that it doesn’t matter how high you are on the ladder, publishers are on the top. It is all about the sales numbers.

My friend and fellow author Carol Stephenson was photographer extraordinaire, and the panels were all terrific. The audience participation was great—even the Sunday morning at 8 was full of bright-eyed folks wanting to talk cozies.

It felt like an incredible way to celebrate the release of Mrs. Morris and the Day of the Dead—which is hanging in at #44 on the Barnes & Noble mass market list, and Death at an Irish Village. I was able to meet with my publisher at Crooked Lane, and he is hopeful that there will be books 4 and 5. It all comes down to numbers!

I am grateful to all of you who have bought and reviewed the books. I love, love, love what I do in creating worlds via stories. Word of mouth is key in this crazy biz.

Thank you!

Traci

Tuesday was my book birthday, and I had twins–the fraternal kind that are completely different. Someday I might just do a book about that! Until then, here’s recap on the latest:
Mrs. Morris and the Day of the Dead is about Charlene Morris, and her ghostly roomie Jack, who is also her best friend, and Detective Sam, who has been in love with Charlene for some time. His patience is rewarded in the finale–there are lots of twists and turns as they help a guest discover whether or not her missing sister is actually deceased. November 1st, the Day of the Dead, is when the veil is thinnest. Charlene (and Jack) agree to help through paranormal channels, while Sam, who is shocked that Charlene truly believes in ghosts, and Avery does too, promises to find the truth in the real world. I had a blast writing this story, and did a lot of research on Santa Muerte and ofrenda altars. I believe there is something more. Do you?

In Death at an Irish Village, Rayne and Ciara are halfway through the 12 month deadline set in Nevin McGrath’s will to save the village, or lose it all. They have learned to work together but the villagers are not on the same page. When one is found murdered in the cemetery, things go sideways for the cousins, who refuse to give up. When I was researching for this story, I was fascinated by the fact that the Irish Crown Jewels were stolen a hundred years ago and never found…well, I came up with a fictional solution to the crime that I hope you find entertaining.
Blarney, Rayne’s first ever pup, is a doll and has some psychic powers. Amos, our hunky grounds manager, has his eye on Rayne to make her forget about her rotten ex.
Have you ever had to deal with a bad breakup?

I’d love it if you gave these books a shot–the Salem series is written as Traci Wilton, and the Irish Castle Mystery series as Ellie Brannigan.

You can reach me at traciella@aol.com

Death at an Irish Village

Mrs. Morris and the Day of the Dead

I am not a web designer at all. My brain doesn’t work that way. A lot of authors are loaded with other skills, like making those cute mini dollhouses, or knitting, or crocheting. I am not a whiz in the kitchen, despite many episodes of watching Chopped.

I feel incredibly grateful that I have this one thing I can do–and that is write a story. Notice, I say WRITE…Heather Graham is a true bard and can TELL a story and have us all hanging on her every word. I need the act of putting pen to paper for the story to come, or fingers to keyboard.

My husband is a talented author who has mad technical IT skills–so, he created my website, many many years ago, and then we have been so busy with CommunityAuthors.com and writing that it was never really updated. I mean, I switched to mainly mystery five years ago. I know how hard Christopher works and he has been taxed with life stuff, so, I was like…teach me. How hard could it be?

Famous last words…I should be able to figure it out. We use WordPress–and I used to blog with the ABB group, and so I had the basic concept–or so I thought. Updating took time, and I really wanted to not be the problem child, but the truth is that he talked SEO and my eyes crossed. So, we decided that I could add the content once he gave me four pages of notes lol, from the product page. We chose a design that looks nice while being not so complicated that I can’t work on it–and if there is a big problem, he is in the room next to mine. We live in a one-bedroom apartment and his office is the bedroom, and mine is the living room. It’s a testament to us I think that we normally get along, lol. We work together and live together in a small space, so disagreements happen…perhaps when I am clicking on things too fast 😉

I am very happy with the look and layout, and it is empowering to know that I had a hand (and many too-fast fingers) in the end product. Now, I know I have about thirty of the By the Sea romances to add individually but I will get it done–I promised by the end of the year. I am also learning how to use social media in a way that isn’t trendy but allows me to interact with people. Connection is what matters. So, this updated site is a work in progress, like I am. The colors make me smile. What do you think?