Today, I'm featuring a host of cozy mystery authors and their books along with excerpts and a giveaway (scroll to the bottom to enter)
The Secret, Book & Scone Society
by Ellery Adams
Excerpt from The Secret Book and Scone Society
Still
scanning the park square, Nora wondered where the trolley passengers had gone.
The lodge’s green trolley was parked in its usual place, but no lodge guests
strolled the sidewalks or meandered from the row of quaint shops on Bath Street
to the Pink Lady Grill or the Gingerbread House.
Just then, a flash of red caught
Nora’s eye and she groaned inwardly as a tall, shapely woman passed in front of
the bookshop window. The woman yanked the door open, ignoring the riotous
clanging of the sleigh bells, and settled into the closest chair like a queen
awaiting the adulation of her subjects. Her pouty lips curved into a
cat-with-the-cream grin. “Consider your next bibliotherapy session canceled.”
“Hello to you too, Estella.” Nora
picked up the stray paperbacks a customer had left on the table next to
Estella’s chair. “I assume you’re referring to the man I met on the park bench.
Why isn’t he coming? Did you scare him off?”
“Me?” Estella pretended to be
affronted, but Nora wasn’t falling for the act. “I didn’t even get a chance to
meet him. I was up at the lodge wasting my time on a man I thought had some
potential, but he’s already making payments to an ex-wife and needs to send
three kids to college. There’d be nothing left for me.” She waved a manicured
hand in dismissal.
Nora was itching to reshelve the
books and check on the coffee. Though she didn’t dislike Estella, she was
rarely at ease in her company.
Recalling the strange sensation
she’d experienced as the second train whistle blew, Nora felt an inexplicable
prickle of dread. She jerked a thumb toward the window. “Where is everyone?”
Estella’s grin returned. “At the
train station. They’ve been drawn there like flies to sugar. The sheriff rolled
in a few seconds ago, and since he and I have never gotten along, I made myself
scarce.”
Nora, who made it a point not to
look people directly in the eye, forgot her rule and gave Estella an impatient
stare. “What happened? Just spit it out.”
Crossing her arms in disappointment,
Estella murmured something about no one being any fun, but eventually complied
with Nora’s request. “When your man on the bench placed an order for one of
Hester’s comfort scones, he asked her to box it because he was heading over
here to see you. He left the bakery, box in hand, but he never made it to
Miracle Books.” Estella leaned back in the chair and smoothed the skirt of her
white sundress. “I’m sure he’d rather be sitting in this comfy chair than where
he is now."
Nora knew she wasn’t going to like
the answer to her question, but it had to be asked. “Which is?”
“On the tracks,” Estella declared
breathlessly. “Someone pushed him in front of the three o’clock train.”
Book Links:
Blackberry Burial
A Berry Basket Mystery #2
by Sharon Farrow
Excerpt from Blackberry
Burial
With a
jubilant bark, Charlie burst out of the bushes towards me. I let out a sigh of
relief as he pranced back and forth, tantalizingly out of reach. Trying to calm
down my racing heart, I held out the doggy treat. With a happy yelp, he took
the treat from my hand. He only needed two bites to finish it off. Murmuring
endearments, I scratched behind his ears as I tried to slip the leash over his
head with my other hand. Thinking
this was a great new game, Charlie snatched the leash and ran off.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I
raced after him. “Charlie!”
The leash clenched between his teeth
prevented Charlie from barking, so I needed to keep close behind him. But he
not only was the size of a small horse, he could run as fast as one, too. Five
minutes later, he disappeared. This was ridiculous. Needing to catch my breath,
I stopped and fished my cell phone from the messenger bag slung across my
chest. I didn’t care if Piper was wearing designer stilts. Charlemagne was her
dog, and she was going to come in here and track down her monster puppy.
Before I could call her, loud barks
broke out to my left. This time I was the one to burst through the bushes. He
wasn’t getting away again. But Charlie stopped barking as soon as he saw me. I
knew now why he had been quiet for the past few minutes. He’d been digging away
in the dirt, which he resumed upon my arrival. I looked for his leash and
spotted it a few yards away, half buried by the dirt he flung to all sides. I
picked up the leash before Charlie could get to it first. As soon as I
did, I also spied what appeared to be an animal bone. Most likely a deer.
But when I turned to see what
Charlie was digging up now, my heart sank. It was another bone, but not one
belonging to a deer. In fact, it was far more than a bone.
It was a human skull . . .
The Quiche and the Dead
A Pie Town Mystery #1
by Kirsten Weiss
Excerpt
from The Quiche and the Dead
In
the other room, the front bell rang.
“You’d better get that.” Charlene
jerked her thumb toward the office door. “Petronella is on her smoke break.”
Eager to escape, I bolted out of my
chair. It skidded backward and hit the wall. I didn’t hang around to inspect
for damage, hustling to the counter.
A blond in a smooth-fitting, green
workout suit strode through the dining area. Her ponytail bobbed, her long,
lean dancer’s muscles moving smoothly, and I had to crane my neck to look up at
her. On her jacket, Heidi’s Health and Fitness was emblazoned over her heart.
She halted in front of the register.
Joe looked up from his bar stool,
grinning, but his smile seemed a little pained.
“Hi.” Smiling, I laid a hand on the
counter. “You must be from the new gym. I’m Val.”
“I’m
looking for the owner.” The corners of her lips quirked, quick, professional,
cool.
“That would be me. Welcome to the
street. I was about to go to your grand opening.”
“I’m Heidi Gladstone.”
We shook hands, my knuckles grinding
within her grip. Dropping my hand to my side, I flexed my fingers, restoring
the circulation. “Thanks for stopping by. I baked a welcome gift for your grand
opening,” I said, taking the quiche from beneath the counter.
“No thanks.” She shook her head. “I
don’t do dairy.”
“I used almond milk.”
“Is there any cheese in it?”
“Only goat cheese.”
She reared away as if I’d suggested
cyanide. “I don’t do dairy.”
Joe’s smile broadened.
I took a deep breath, inhaling the
calming scents of baking fruits and sugar. “What can I do for you?”
“You can change your sign.” She
pointed at the neon above me. “Turn your frown upside down? It encourages
emotional eating. Sugar kills, and though it does give a quick emotional high,
the satisfaction is fleeting. My customers are trying to rebuild their health.
It’s not good for them to constantly see that negative reinforcement.”
I laughed. She was kidding. Of
course. “Right. Good one!”
She frowned, a faint line appearing
between her blond brows. “I’m quite serious.”
“But . . . it’s my slogan. It’s on
everything—my sign outside, the menus, my business cards.” This had to be a
joke.
“Exactly,” she said. “It’s a
problem. Do you have any sugar-free pies?”
“My potpies are sugar free. And so
is this quiche.”
“I advocate a vegan diet. I couldn’t
eat a potpie or a quiche. Do you sell any sugar-free fruit pies?”
“Um, no.” Sugar free? I’d heard of
such things, and this was California, where people could be more thoughtful
about eating. But a sugar-free pie? That was unnatural and possibly
un-American. Besides, fruit was full of natural sugars.
“I’ll bring some recipes by
tomorrow.” She whirled, her ponytail coming within inches of my face, and
marched out of the store. The bell over the entrance tinkled in her wake.
Joe wedged himself free of the bar
stool and waddled to the counter, arms extended. “I’ll take that breakfast pie.
And a fork.”
Sighing, I handed him the quiche.
“All right. You win. Do you want a plate to go with that?”
“No. Why get a plate dirty? I’ll eat
it from the tin.”
“How did you know she wouldn’t take
it?”
Joe winked. “She kicked off her
grand opening this morning with a lecture on the evils of gluten, lactose, and
anything that tastes good. I figured at least one of those things would be in
that breakfast pie.”
I nodded. I had yet to meet a
gluten-free piecrust that really sang. He rubbed his
stomach. “And the spread was awful, all twigs and health food.”
“It is a gym.”
Petronella stomped toward me in her
black motorcycle boots, her brows lowered in a slash, a pie in each hand. “Are
you working the counter today or am I?”
“You are. Sorry. You can have it
back.” I edged away.
“Because I need this job, and if
you’ve decided you can do it for me—”
“Nope, you’re still chief pie
wrangler. Have at it.” While I wasn’t exactly afraid of Petronella, both she
and Charlene were protective of their duties. And since Charlene made the best
piecrust in five counties, and Petronella could soothe the most ferocious
customer, I’d learned to stay out of their way.
There was a choking sound, and we
both snapped our heads toward the counter.
Joe’s fork clattered to the
linoleum. Bowed over the quiche, he gripped his stomach.
I
froze, brows squishing together, coldness piercing my core. Then Petronella and
I raced around the counter, bumping into each other as we fought our way
through the narrow passage beside the cash register.
Joe fell to the floor, writhing.
I
fumbled in my apron pocket for my phone and called 9-1-1.
Petronella
clasped one of Joe’s hands. “Joe! I’m here. Val’s calling an ambulance. What’s
happening?”
Joe went limp, his eyes rolling
back. He didn’t answer.
Full Bodied Murder
A Rose Avenue Wine Club Mystery #1
by Christine E. Blum
Gingerbread Cookie Murder
by Joanne Fluke, Laura Levine, Leslie Meier
Author Links
Eggnog Murder
by Barbara Ross, Lee Hollis, Leslie Meier
Author Links:
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