Bastian Dennel is a detective, not a matchmaker.
But he’s also not one to turn down easy mazuma. So when one of Innsjøby’s richest young sheiks hires him to find his so-called true love — a girl he’s met only once at a masked party — Bastian is on the case. After his last few high-risk adventures, he’s ready for a job where the hardest part will be collecting his payment. Sure, all he has to go on is a guest list and a description . . . but how hard can it be?
Of course, easy money always has a catch, and what should’ve been a simple search turns out to be anything but. Everyone seems to have their own opinion on who this mystery girl should be, whether or not it matches reality, and even the Families are getting involved. To make matters worse, Dayo is acting cagey, and Bastian doesn’t know why.
Bastian’s business is the truth. But what can he do when everyone around him has already decided what they want the truth to be? Find out in this Jazz-Age take on “Cinderella,” book three of the Bastian Dennel, PI mysteries!
Purchase Link: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B09RQFLHCM
Add Book on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/60307521-mask-of-scarlet
Find the rest of the series: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B09869T5NJ
Author Bio:
Sarah Pennington has been writing stories since before she actually knew how to write, and she has no intention of stopping anytime soon. She is perpetually in the middle of writing at least one or two novels, most of which are in the fantasy and fairy tale retelling genres. When she isn't writing, she enjoys knitting, photography, and trying to conquer her massive to-be-read list.
Find her online at: Author Site || Wordpress Blog || Blogspot Blog || Goodreads || Facebook || Amazon
Book Snippet:
Bastian’s office door swung open so hard it banged against the wall. A burst of early autumn wind and a swirl of drying leaves halfway between red and brown swept in, along with a young man wearing a bold purple suit in a cut that said it cost more than Bastian made in a good year. “Bastian Dennel?” the man asked.
“That would be me.” Bastian stood, taking in the figure who’d invaded his office. Short red curls poked out beneath a fedora that matched the suit. Blue eyes gleamed in a face a few shades too dark to be purely Stjernesøkeren or Daoinoic, a face whose lines Bastian had seen in the papers more than a few times—typically in the gossip section. The man moved in sudden, eager bursts, though with the particular grace that came with the certainty that he was too important for anyone to refuse.
In short, he looked like trouble. But he was trouble with money, so Bastian wouldn’t complain. The slow shift from high summer to mid fall had brought with it a dry spell so far as work was concerned. And while his money hadn’t run out yet, with two additional people in the house, his savings were dropping lower than he’d like.
.jpg)
.png)
.png)
Title: Turn My Mourning Into Dancing 
