The Avelrow shelf
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Genealogical Mystery
Maeve Doyle
The first thing Nora Ashe saved from the fire was not the photograph, though later everyone would assume it was. They would imagine her standing in the smoke with the archive box clutched to her ribs, heroic and tragic in the way people preferred women to be when they were useful after disaster. They would picture flames licking up the old municipal curtains, the brass plaque of the Ballybrack Community Memory Project glowing hot beside the door, Nora choosing the faces of the dead over her own lungs.
Mystery
Aileen Muir
The hours before the ceremony had given no warning except the kind people ignore because ordinary life is noisy. Finn had woken to Nell singing to her cereal. His mother had coughed in the hallway and told everyone she was fine in a voice that meant she was absolutely not. His father had burned toast, scraped it, burned the scraped toast, and finally served everyone Weetabix with the solemnity of a man making legal reparations.
Legal Thriller
Keir Devlin
Triage The first thing Róisín Hart heard when she stepped into the custody corridor was a man shouting that he knew his rights. The second thing was her mother’s voice, coming from somewhere behind the vending machine, saying, “I’m not being dramatic, love, but if you don’t ring me before eleven, I do assume you’re dead in a ditch.” Róisín stopped so sharply that the heel of her boot clipped the skirting board.
Psychological Thriller
Clara Vey
At eight forty-three on Thursday morning, Sive Moran repainted the white line around a parking space reserved for a woman who had not visited the prison in fourteen months. Nobody had asked her to. That was important. If somebody had asked, there would have been a form.
Crime Thriller
Keir Devlin
Everyone knows where to gather when something goes wrong. Assembly Point turns that promise of order into a crime thriller about suspicion, fear and the moment a safe place stops feeling safe.
Mystery
Aileen Muir
The oath bell rang at midnight, though every adult in Rowanmere said the bell had been dead for forty years. Mara Venn heard it from the narrow room above the old stationer’s shop, where she was supposed to be asleep beneath a quilt embroidered with crooked moons. She had been counting the cracks in the ceiling instead. There were twenty-seven if she counted only the proper cracks, thirty-two if she included the hair-thin one that looked like a river on a map, and one that had not been there before supper.
Mystery
Aileen Muir
The Hill That Wasn’t There Finn O’Daly knew the town had been lying about being flat for years. Nobody else seemed bothered by this. Adults looked at the roads and saw roads. They looked at the shopping precinct and saw shops, the estate behind Saint Jude’s and saw houses, the narrow strip behind the leisure centre and saw somewhere a council van ought to be parked.
Domestic Suspense
Ciaran Mercer
Aoife tasted smoke long before she saw the fire. Even with the window jammed shut, it seeped in under the crooked frame, the way everything from outside did in this house – arguments on the street, sirens, laughter, the boys singing sectarian songs when they were drunk enough to forget the neighbours’ politics. She lay flat on her back, one hand spread over the small, hard curve of her belly, and watched the orange flicker crawling up her ceiling.
Cozy Mystery
Bridie Rowan
At Ballycuan's St Brigid fair, jam judge Fintan Vale is found dead beside two near-identical blackberry jars—one bearing Mara Kelleher's name. As librarian Cillian Struan notices an old recipe card, a stained heritage map and a storm lamp tied to secrets the village would rather preserve, a cozy competition becomes an investigation into buried family and community history.
Cozy Mystery
Bridie Rowan
Mabel Finch knew the charity blanket had gone wrong before anyone screamed. It lay across the trestle table in the parish hall like a small, well-behaved meadow, all sage squares and cream borders, all elderly patience and raffle-ticket virtue, except for the stitch near the centre. One dropped loop. One loose mouth of wool, dark as tea left too long in the pot.
Medical-Legal Thriller
E. L. Doherty
The sea had a way of pretending it was innocent. From the lane above the cliffs it looked almost gentle — slate-grey, flecked with pale foam, breathing in and out like something asleep. The wind did the loud work, flinging rain sideways, rattling the gorse, making a song of the wire fences. Down below, the tide kept its own counsel. Nora Fallon walked that path with her coat pulled tight and her hair half loose, as if she’d forgotten she was meant to be careful.
Missing Person Thriller
Aidan Kerrigan
Emerald Harbour Missing • · Book 1
1989 By half nine the summer carnival had stopped pretending it belonged to children. The toddlers with painted cheeks had been carried home sticky with sugar. The parish raffle had ended in a dispute over a ham nobody admitted wanting. Teenagers had taken possession of the grass behind Saint Brigid’s Hall, the older boys leaning against the railings as if they had personally invented cigarettes, the girls moving in bright packs between the music tent and the harbour road.
Standalone Thriller
Keir Devlin
Faceless is a fractured contemporary romance about intimacy, identity and the cost of being truly seen after trust has already been broken. It asks what remains when appearances are no longer enough.
Crime Thriller
Aidan Kerrigan
Once the ground shifts, every certainty becomes evidence. Final Fall is a crime thriller about suspicion, consequence and the point at which one wrong step can no longer be taken back.
Crime & Thriller
Keir Devlin
The Gavel Falls The first time Cassidy O’Connell sees Aidan Voss, he’s not in a courtroom. Between scenes, the city keeps its own ledger: small kindnesses credited against bureaucratic cruelties, a balance that never quite zeroes. Cassidy learns to count it anyway, because accounting is how you keep doors open and people brave. The detective’s chair is an argument disguised as furniture—too low, so you feel large and guilty reaching down to meet him.
Medical-Legal Thriller
E. L. Doherty
The gavel cracked once—sharp, echoing against the wood-paneled walls—and every muscle in Nina Daley’s body went rigid. She told herself it was muscle memory. Pavlov’s dog with a baritone hammer. The sound that had ended her life once before. Her fingers brushed the worn leather of the briefcase at her side, a second-hand buy from a consignment shop near Dupont Circle, the place that catered to the daughters of ambassadors who didn’t care where the money came from.
Civic Cozy Mystery
Orla Ashdown
Councillor and part-time actress Imogen Vale discovers the official minutes say she cast the deciding vote to demolish St Brigid's Court—the estate where her sister lives—even though the same record marks her absent and she was performing miles away. A mysterious notation points to an obsolete spousal-proxy rule and drags her estranged husband, county archivist Daniel, into a civic mystery about forged procedure, altered records and who has the power to make a false decision become official truth.
Belfast Crime Thriller / Romantic Suspense
Rowan Kincaid
Belfast Night Crimes · Book 1
At that hour Belfast belonged to wind, black water, and the sort of men who mistook darkness for a deed. The cranes loomed over the docks like iron saints gone feral, long arms braced above the shipping lanes while the river shoved oil-dark against the pilings. Rust, salt, diesel, old bad decisions - the whole harbour reeked of them. She should not have answered the phone.
Cozy Mystery
Orla Ashdown
The first scone to cause a death in Emerald Harbour was not, strictly speaking, poisoned. Molly Fenn would later be very firm on that point, because a woman might survive gossip, debt, heartbreak, and one catastrophic fringe cut, but she could not survive a village deciding her almond-and-blackcurrant scones were murder weapons. The scone was innocent. The man beside it was another matter entirely.
Cozy Mystery
Orla Ashdown
The train ticket was folded into four neat squares and tucked inside the dead woman’s hymn book, which would have been odd enough if the dead woman had ever been known to sing. Grace Gallagher noticed it before the undertaker did. She noticed because Grace had spent forty-two years noticing the things other people called background: the second cup left untouched, the market-stall receipt dated a day too early, the small tremor in a voice when a lie was dressed up as neighbourliness.

Crime & Thriller
E. L. Doherty
In medicine, triage decides what cannot wait. Triage of Truth turns the same pressure onto secrets and trust in a medical thriller where the truth becomes more dangerous the longer it is delayed.