A notorious daydreamer, Kat knew it was only a matter of time before she became a writer. She learned to read by age four and had her first library card before her fifth birthday. To this day, she can lose herself for hours among the books at her local library or neighborhood bookstore. We won't even talk about the time she spends online browsing and buying books.
Making the leap from reading to making up stories, Kat has entertained friends and family almost all of her life with the stories and characters that play in her mind.
For over a decade Kat worked in mental health in various capacities including office manager, crisis interventionist, and public relations liaison.
Her passion is writing and telling stories to entertain and make people laugh. For relaxation she loves to knit and can be found on Ravelry as KatJ when she's not writing.
Kat lives in Richmond, VA with her two handsome black cats, Sam and Milo.
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Your Jig is Up $0.99
Your Eight O'Clock is Dead (The River City Mysteries Book 1) $2.99 SAVE $2!
Becca Reynolds is having a bad day. Her grandfather’s lecture (#405: Eat a Healthy Diet or Die Not Trying) makes her late for her job at Daley & Palmer, the psychiatric group where she works as office manager – her title not theirs. But she knows her day has taken a really bad turn when she finds the firm’s eight o’clock patient dead with Dr. Daley’s letter opener opening the patient instead of the mail.
A suspicious death
Your Lights are Out $4.99 NEW!
Your Lights are Out is a completely stand-alone mystery, although it is more fun to read as part of the entire series.
The cops call her a murder magnet. It's a bum rap. Although people do die when she's around. Join Becca Reynolds for the latest installment in her River City Mystery series, Your Lights are Out.
Hohoho! It’s Becca Reynolds’ first Christmas at the psychiatric firm of Daley & Palmer. To cheer up the clients, as well as herself, she has decorated the office for the season complete with a fully festive tree.
But when she discovers one of the doctors dead under the tree with a string of holiday mini-lights tightly encircling the unlucky therapist’s neck and the other end peacefully resting between her Granddad’s cranky cat’s paws, she knows it’s up to her to investigate yet another murder tied to the hapless firm.
Surely Higgins isn’t responsible for the death? But who is?
Can Becca solve the case and bring the killer to justice?
Or will it be a blue, blue Christmas in River City?
Here's a short excerpt from one of the chapters.
Too late, I remembered we should have brought some cat treats with us. The sound of that bag getting shaken usually caused Higgins to run to even me at home. But Granddad had been in such a hurry to leave home that neither of us had thought of it.
We were down to the last open door. The one to our suite. I said a silent little prayer that we would find Higgins here. I didn’t know what I’d do with Granddad if the cat wasn’t in the waiting room.
Granddad flipped the switch nearest the door and the bright overhead lights lit up the entire reception room. Granddad had stopped shouting Higgins’ name and had gone completely silent on me. I hoped that meant he’d found the cat.
“Is he there, Granddad?” I asked as I reached the doorway.
“He’s here, Becca. But I think he’s in trouble.” Granddad stood still just inside the door to the reception room.
I pushed past him and there in the middle of the room was the downed Christmas tree with broken ornaments all over the floor. A string of lights was partially pulled off of the tree along with several of the artificial tree’s limbs. As I followed the lights my eyes rested on Higgins peacefully sleeping, undisturbed by our voices or his surroundings.
And resting beside Higgins, partially obscured by the Christmas tree which was now on top of her, was Dr. Marcy Palmer. I recognized her expensive shoes and the outfit she’d worn to work that day.
“Is she…?” Granddad crept toward the prone therapist.
I made my way to Marcy before Granddad did. And still, Higgins slept, his snoring getting louder by the minute. I felt Marcy’s wrist for a pulse.