Diana Orgain's Blog, page 11
May 31, 2021
I Wanda put a Spell on You (An iWitch Mystery Series: Book Two) Sneak Peek – Chapter Two
Did you miss Chapter One?
From I Wanda put a Spell on you
Chapter Two
CHUCK
I’ve been looking for someone–no one in particular–just
someone … anyone, who could reverse the curse. And I
found her. Call it luck or call it fate, but I found her. I sit in the corner
of her café, watching her as she happily darts back and forth from
customer to customer. It is opening night of Listen: It’s Old Fashioned,
and half of the town is excitedly filling up the joint. That’s my girl.
For the past month, I’ve been living as this woman’s pet. Her
cutesy little doggie, Wanda. Not tonight, baby! I’m all man, tonight.
No fur, no doggie drool, no panting, no dog breath, no fleas, no ticks,
no strange and unrelenting desire for someone to scratch me behind
the ears! Not tonight, folks! I am me once more.
Penny, the young niece of one of my darling Maeve’s friends, sits
in the window seat near my table. She keeps whispering to that stupid
cat of hers and occasionally glancing my way and giggling. I smile.
Making nice. The girl thinks I’m a hero for bringing her cat up here to
the café. I suppose it’s nice to be adored even by a little fan, so for now
I’ll smile and wave whenever she glances over.
The cat, whom I unaffectionately call Fuzzball, hops out of the
little girl’s lap and comes over to my table. “So what are you going to do,
Wanda?” Fuzzball asks me, hopping up into the chair across from me. I
grumble to myself as I try to ignore her. “I know you can understand me,
Wanda. Don’t ignore me.”
“It’s Chuck,” I say in a whisper, and I notice a slight dog-like snarl
in my voice. I clear my throat.
Penny is suddenly right beside me. She smiles brightly. “Thank you
for saving my kitty,” she says, and I nod.
“No problem, kid,” I say, my eyes still lingering on Maeve.
Penny picks up the cat. I’m not looking at her, but I can tell the kid
is staring at me. It’s flipping weird, the way she is standing there next
to me petting her cat. She’s not freaking blinking! I feel like I’m being
sized up by a Care-Bear version of the Godfather.
“I know who you are,” she says, and I almost choke on the muffin
I’ve just ordered.
I have to sip my Irish coffee to keep from gagging. “Excuse me?” I
question, wondering if this little girl knows my secret. I’m not sure if
that would bode well or poorly for me.
“Busted!” Fuzzball exclaims.
“You’re Chuck Lowry,” she says. “You’re on that really bad TV
show.”
Well, isn’t she a little charmer, I think to myself as I realize she didn’t
mean that I was Wanda, but that she recognized me from television. I
smile. “Oh, come on, it’s not that bad?”
“My mom says that show flopped,” she says. “She says it was
because the acting was so bad.”
I frown. “Why don’t you go sit on your little seat over there by the
window, kid?”
“My name’s Penny,” she says.
“I know who you are, Penny. Now beat it,” I say, and she giggles
and hurries back to where she had been seated moments ago. She
keeps staring at me. I do my best to ignore her and focus on Maeve.
There has to be a way to make Maeve realize who I am without
actually telling her, right? Maeve is the only witch I’ve managed to
find, but she doesn’t even know it! Somehow I have to find a way to
make her realize she’s a witch so she can help me, but I can’t say it! I
can’t actually tell her I’m her cursed pooch. Or at least that’s what that
she-devil who cursed me said. Telling would be against the rules.
Maeve already knows that Wanda has something special going on
after I barked up some magick to help her take down that crazy
woman, Eleanor, who was trying to kill her. But she hasn’t said
anything about it to anyone.
Maybe she thinks she imagined it? Who knows? But it’s a step in
the right direction for her to have seen something like that, I suppose.
I watch Officer Sparkly Eyes leave, and I’m relieved. That man is
some serious competition, I can tell. I’ve already played it all out in my
mind how this breaking the curse thing is going to go down.
Somehow I’ll reveal to Maeve who I am, she’ll practice with her
newfound magical abilities, and then I will be all man again all the
time. And I do mean all man. When she realizes I’ve been her four-legged
bestie this whole time, she and I will get close. Really close.
I mean, I am me, after all.
There’s some rather interesting characters here tonight. The dead
girl’s brother and his fellow Navy buddies and the ex-husband of
Crazy Eleanor. What a laugh! What’s fun is everyone in this café
thinks I’m just some stranger probably on my way somewhere else.
They don’t know I’ve been living among them for the past month,
learning the local gossip. I bet I would freak them all out with all the
information I know about them that I learned as Wanda, Maeve’s
trusty sidekick.
Sidekick … I like that … though I’d definitely like to be a lot more than
that.
That’s when it hits me! I know how to win Maeve over. I know
about her. A lot about her! She was a songwriter. And I’m a celebrity. I
wonder if I could make her gush if I pretended to recognize her? Oh,
yeah. This is happening. I glance over at Penny who is still staring at
me. “Hey, kid, come here,” I say.
She jumps up, cat in arms, and comes to stand by my table. “Yes,
sir?” she asks politely and gives me a little girly grin.
“Do you have a phone? One with internet access?” I ask.
“No, but my aunt does,” she says, pointing toward Gracie who is
currently having a minor freak out about ruining her sexy red top.
Apparently, a customer spilled coffee or something on her, and she’s
scrambling for napkins
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“Do you think you could do me a favor and borrow your aunt’s
phone so that I can look something up?” I ask, attempting to smile
brightly at her. I’m more used to talking significantly older women
into doing what I want. This little rug rat is a different story.
“Are you going to steal my aunt’s phone?” she asks.
“What! No!” I exclaimed. “I got lost coming into town and need to
look up a map.”
“Oh,” Penny says and plops Fuzzball into my lap. “Be right back!”
She skips off toward the counter over to Gracie. The two of them
exchange a few words, and then Penny points in my direction. I
awkwardly wave at Gracie, and the woman frowns. However, I notice
she does hand the phone over to Penny.
“What are you going to do with the phone?” Fuzzball asks.
“None of your business,” I say to the cat, and someone at the next
table turns and looks at me like I’m crazy. I lower my voice and
whisper to her this time. “Stop talking to me. People are going to
think I’m nuts.”
“You are nuts. You were a dog a few hours ago,” Fuzzball retorts as
Penny makes her way back to us.
I wave a thank-you at Gracie from across the room, and she nods
in my direction. I tap at the phone and type Maeve O’Dare into the
search engine. After taking a moment to memorize the names of her
songs, I google myself.
Surely Hollywood is going nuts wondering where I am. Much to
my disappointment, the only thing I can find is information on Jenny
Loves Charlie rerun dates. This can’t be right. I slip out for a moment
to make a phone call. I know someone is missing me.
While standing outside, I call up my agent. The guy, I imagine, is
having a freak out wondering where his big shot is. I actually manage
to get him on the phone, but he’s dismissive. “Chuck? Haven’t heard
from you in a while,” he says.
I know I can’t tell him anything about the curse. For one, he would
think I’m crazy, and for another Selena, the witch, told me I’d croak if
I did. “Yeah, sorry. I’ve been out of town,” I say. “You know, visiting
family and …”
“Chuck, listen,” the man says. “I figured you’d gotten my notice
since you haven’t called me in a month. I dropped you.”
“What!” I shout. Not exactly what I was expecting to come of this
phone call. “What do you mean you dropped me?”
“New clients. That sort of thing. No hard feelings, right?” he says,
and then he mumbles something, and I suspect he is talking to
someone else in the room with him.
“No hard feelings!” I exclaim, and he hangs up.
Unbelievable!
My next thought is to call my mother. The woman is probably
worried sick trying to figure out where I am. I should definitely give
her some sort of excuse to settle her mind. My mom’s voice answers,
“Chuckie! You know better than to call me this late,” she says.
I frown. “Uh … yeah, well … I haven’t spoken to you in like a
month, so-”
“Really? A month?” the woman asks. “Didn’t you come see me on
your birthday?”
“That was over a month ago!” I say. Did she forget when my
birthday was?
“Okay, and? Have you been drinking?” she accuses.
“No!” Well, yes, technically I have, but … “Never mind, Mom,” I
say. “I was checking in.”
“Alright Chuckie, next time call at a decent hour.”
She hangs up, and I stare at the phone in my hand. Wow. Literally
no one has missed me. Not even my own mother. That one stings. I
wish I hadn’t called anyone.
I return the phone to Penny and tell her to thank her aunt for me.
I really need another drink after that phone call with my mother. I
order myself one and wait. Slowly but surely, the place starts to clear
out—including my little minion, Penny, and her kitty-cat assistant.
The lights dim, but I remain seated. Soon it’s just me, my lovely
Maeve, and the little punk she hired. I hear her whispering with the
kid for a minute before he leaves, and Maeve gets back to work.
Time to put on the charm.
I can see that she’s quite annoyed that I’m still in the café, but I
suspect she won’t be soon. Time to put my game plan into action.
“I’ve got to say, Ms. O’Dare, I’m quite impressed. What made you
go from Hollywood big shot to coffee shop owner?” I ask as she passes
my table.
“I’m sorry?” she asks, and I can see this befuddled look in her eye.
I put on the charm. It’s mostly small talk at first about her song‐
writing, but I can tell I’ve got her attention. Her cheeks flush a beau‐
tiful shade of pink.
It’s so cute that she’s embarrassed because she thinks I’ve “recog‐
nized” her.
I talk her up, telling her I’m a big fan.
I smile big–ladies love my smile. I’m hard to resist.
I can tell I really have her eating out of the palm of my hand with
the all the flattery I’m dishing out.
Then she notices my shirt.
Shoot. Maybe rummaging through her stuff to find clothes was a bad
idea.
I can tell I’m losing her. I do the unthinkable. Help with dishes.
“Well, it has been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Lowry,” she says,
evidently finished with what she needs to get done for the evening. I
can tell she is ready for me to leave. I would be too after working such
a crazy shift, but I’m determined.
Go big or go home. “You know, Maeve, I would love to buy you
some lunch or get some coffee. I’m only in town through tomorrow.”
“Sorry, Chuck, but I’m working,” she says with her nose scrunched
up slightly.
Did she just turn me down?
I don’t get turned down! My mind scrambles for a response. I’ve
never been turned down by a woman in my life. I hold out my hand.
“Well, that’s a shame,” I say with the warmest smile I can muster.
She takes my hand as though she is trying to shake it, but instead I
clasp her hand between both of mine. Our eyes meet, her cheeks go
rosy again. “I could have sworn I felt … a little magic between us.”
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Diana Orgain is the USA Today Bestselling Author of the Maternal Instincts Mystery Series, Love or Money Mystery series, and The Roundup Crew Mysteries. Diana is also the New York Times Bestselling co-author of the Scrapbooking Mystery Series with Laura Childs. To keep up to date with the latest releases visit Diana at www.dianaorgain.com GRAB YOUR COPY OF I WANDA PUT A SPELL ON YOU HERE
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I Wanda put a Spell on You (An iWitch Mystery Series: Book Two) Sneak Peek – Chapter One Continued…
Did you miss part one of Chapter One?
From I Wanda put a Spell on you
Chapter One Continued . . .
Maeve took a moment to observe her work. The café was popping,
and she could feel the incredible energy vibrating through her veins.
Suddenly the sultry voice of Nina Simone filled the café, and Maeve
felt electricity jolt her upright. The song, Feeling Good, played through
the music system, and Maeve relaxed.
Yes, that’s exactly how she felt:
Good
The atmosphere in the café was exactly as she’d imagined it. The
crowd settled into their booths and tables, people were chatting and
actually listening to each other and to the music. She took a deep
breath, giving herself a moment to soak it all in. It was hard to believe
that her work and effort had at last paid off. Things were looking
great for the first time in a long time for Maeve, and that soothed her
nerves.
The door to the café opened, and a group of young men entered.
There were four men, all with their hair buzzed short in proper mili‐
tary style. One of them, the one coming straight up to the counter,
seemed very familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him.
“Maeve O’Dare?” he asked with a charming smile as his buddies
fought to find seating.
“Yes?” she asked.
He put out his hand, and Maeve shook it.
“Nathan Whittaker,” he said.
“Did you say Whittaker?” she questioned.
“I did,” he said, resting his elbows on the counter across from her.
“You’re Nadine’s brother?” she asked. “I saw your picture on
Nadine’s desk at her work.”
“That’s me,” he said.
Maeve’s stomach dropped. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”
Only a few weeks before, Maeve had solved Nadine Whittaker’s
murder case. A local woman had accidentally poisoned Nadine, the
Mayor’s personal assistant, while trying to get revenge on Mayor
James for leaving her after breaking up her marriage. It was all very
scandalous, and the mayor had experienced some serious political
backlash after Nadine’s murder. Maeve sensed her exposing the affair
was likely the reason Mayor James was giving her a hard time about
her alcohol serving license.
“Thank you,” Nathan said. “Those idiots over there in the booth
are my fellow Navy brothers … Georgie, Alex, and Kevin. We’ve been
in town for a few weeks now. Came into town for the funeral and
wound up staying longer than expected.” He smiled brightly at her
behind sad eyes. “Staying a bit longer has given us a chance to check
out the new café, though. Glad we were able to see this place up and
running. I wanted to come by and personally thank you for what you
did for my sister. You got the woman who did it behind bars, and
while that doesn’t change things, it sure does make it a little easier to
sleep at night knowing that justice has been served.”
“It was my pleasure, Nathan,” Maeve said, taking a moment to
study his face. He looked so very much like his sister Nadine, the
town’s sweetheart. “Let me get you a coffee. On the house.”
He shook his head. “No, no, none of that.” He handed her a credit
card. “Get me and my boys a scotch each.”
“Okay, coming right up!” she said and rang up his total.
She handed him his receipt to sign, and he wrote in a generous tip
and a note at the bottom of the receipt before heading to the booth
where his friends had gathered.
Maeve picked up the receipt and read the note. Thank you, Maeve.
She smiled. It warmed her heart to know she’d done some good for
the Whittaker family.
Maeve, Gracie, and Donnie got to work, serving up pastries,
drawing leaf patterns in the frothy steamed milk, and waiting tables.
The café crowd was excited to see Nathan and his buddies, and a few
people even bought the Navy boys some additional drinks. Just as the
crowd began to settle down, the door to the café opened again, and a
man Maeve didn’t recognize entered.
Evidently, every other person in the café knew the man, because
whatever conversations people had been in the middle of abruptly
ended. The sudden quiet made the music seem too loud.
Everyone stared in the man’s direction.
Maeve’s breath caught as the man removed his hat and stepped
inside.
The man’s eyes narrowed, and he glared at Bobby Farley who was
sitting at the booth nearest to the door. “What are you staring at,
Bobby?”
Bobby Farley broke eye contact. “Nothing, um, Christian … it’s
good to see you back in town, is all,” Bobby stuttered.
The man, Christian, rolled his eyes, and his scowl softened. He
took off his hat and gazed over Maeve’s head at the menu listed
behind the counter, studying it intently for a moment all the way from
the doorway.
“Who is that?” Maeve whispered to Gracie who was standing
beside her.
“That would be Christian Delany,” Gracie said in a hushed tone.
“Delany?” Maeve questioned. “As in-”
“As in Eleanor Delany’s ex-husband,” Donnie muttered from the
other side of Maeve. “He skipped town after the divorce.”
“Well …” Maeve grumbled. “I’m certainly meeting a lot of new
faces today.”
Christian approached the counter with a scowl on his face, but he
lightened up a bit when he spotted Gracie. “Gracie,” he said to her.
“Christian. Good to see you. It’s been a while. What brings you
back to Wisteria Pines?” Gracie asked.
“I received a subpoena to appear in court,” he said and then looked
directly at Maeve. “Now I get to go and talk to a bunch of strangers
about my ex-wife’s affair.” He chuckled.
Maeve couldn’t tell if he was frustrated or enjoying the fact his
ex-wife was behind bars. It unsettled her not knowing where he
stood on the matter.
“How about a scotch?” he asked, then added, “To celebrate.”
Maeve poured him a drink as he pointed at one of the chocolate
chip muffins on display. “That looks good. Give me one of those. I
haven’t eaten all day.”
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Maeve placed the muffin on a plate and handed Christian his order.
He nodded at her, then wiggled his way into the crowd. Maeve watched
curiously as Christian spoke to some of his former neighbors. The man
seemed to go back and forth from being legitimately saddened by his
ex-wife’s arrest to overwhelmed with vengeful satisfaction.
Apart from the discomfort that Christian’s appearance seemed to
have caused, the night went on without a hitch. Eventually the orders
stopped coming in, and patrons dispersed one by one.
All except for Chuck Lowry.
Chuck hadn’t budged despite the lights dimming and the coffee
machine being shut down.
Donnie swept and mopped the floors and cleaned up the back.
Gracie dipped out to take her niece home, so only Maeve, Donnie,
and Chuck remained.
“Don’t mind me,” Chuck said as Maeve helped Donnie clean up
shop. “I’m just nursing the last of my drink if that’s all right.”
“No, no, go right ahead,” Maeve insisted.
Soon, though, they had completed their closing duties. Maeve
nudged Donnie who looked like he was about to fall out from exhaus‐
tion at any minute. “Go on home, Donnie. I got this.”
“You sure?” he asked in a whisper. “That guy seems kind of creepy
to me.”
Maeve bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing. “I’m good, but
thank you for the concern.”
Donnie grabbed his things and left, glancing over his shoulder on
the way out. “I’ll be in early tomorrow morning, Ms. O’Dare.”
Maeve looked at Chuck and sighed.
Being alone with me after closing is probably exactly what Mr. Holly‐
wood wanted.
Chuck smiled at her. “I’ve got to say, Ms. O’Dare, I’m quite
impressed. What made you go from Hollywood songwriter to coffee
shop owner?”
Maeve froze. “I’m sorry?”
Chuck sat upright. “What, you think I didn’t recognize your
name?” Chuck asked. “Die! You Cheating Dog is a personal favorite.
Let’s see … you also wrote Choke on that Lie and I’ll Never Get Over You.
Those are some of my all-time favorites.”
Maeve cheeks burned, and realized she was blushing.
Don’t you dare, she scorned herself.
Chuck Lowry was obviously the type to hit on every other woman
he came in contact with. She would not allow herself to fall for his
charm. “Why, yes, that’s me … I mean, those were my songs.”
“You have a pretty impressive group of artists you’ve sold to,”
Chuck said, sliding his now empty glass to the edge of his table for
Maeve to grab. “I’m impressed.”
“You really knew who I was?” she asked.
“What can I say? I’m a fan of your songwriting–the edginess of
your lyrics does it for me,” he tipped his head to the right and graced
her with a crooked grin. “I always look for an O’Dare original.
Though it’s been a while since you’ve put anything out. My agent
wanted me to release a CD a while back. You were at the top of my list
of potential writers.” He shrugged. “It was a ridiculous publicity stunt
that ended up imploding. Thankfully, because I’m more of an actor
than a singer. If you know what I mean.”
She grabbed the glass. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you.
Really.”
It was hard to believe that someone like Chuck Lowry knew her or
that he had considered hiring her for a CD.
“You should be proud,” he said, smiling a rather charming smile.
Maeve stared at him for a moment. He wore a goofy looking silk
button up shirt. Her ex, Frank, had one exactly like it. With her free
hand, she reached out and brushed the tip of her fingers to the collar.
Chuck’s chest puffed up at her touch.
She jerked her hand away.
Crud, he thinks I’m flirting, she thought.
She scrunched up her nose. “Uh … my ex has that exact same
shirt.”
It’s hard to imagine anyone other than Frank being snobbish enough to
think they could pull that look off.
Chuck frowned. “Well,” he said, looking her up and down. “Your ex
has good taste, but I already knew that.”
Maeve crossed her arms. Slow down there, buddy, she thought.
She crossed to the barista station and put his glass into the dish‐
washer. Chuck rose and came around the counter to help her, his
hands bumping into hers as she reached for the detergent.
“You don’t have to do that,” Maeve said.
“I insist,” Chuck said, lifting the commercial sized tub for her.
“Besides, I’m the one who kept you here late, right?”
He’s a Hollywood boy, Maeve reminded herself as Chuck continued
with the flirty banter.
When Maeve had completed all the final tasks, she said, “It’s been a
pleasure meeting you, Mr. Lowry.”
“You know, Maeve, I would love to buy you some lunch or get
some coffee. I’m only in town through tomorrow,” he said.
And there it is, Maeve mused. “Sorry, Chuck, but I’m working.”
Chuck winked at her and took an uncomfortable step forward.
“Well, that’s a shame.” He held out his hand, and she went to shake it.
Instead of a shake, he clasped her hand between both of his. “I could
have sworn I felt … a little magic between us.”
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Diana Orgain is the USA Today Bestselling Author of the Maternal Instincts Mystery Series, Love or Money Mystery series, and The Roundup Crew Mysteries. Diana is also the New York Times Bestselling co-author of the Scrapbooking Mystery Series with Laura Childs. To keep up to date with the latest releases visit Diana at www.dianaorgain.com GRAB YOUR COPY OF I WANDA PUT A SPELL ON YOU HERE
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May 30, 2021
Murder as Savory as Biscuits (Cooking up Murder Mystery Series: Book Three) Sneak Peek – Chapter One
From Murder as Savory as Biscuits
Chapter One
There was a spring in Leo Lawson’s step as he walked the
hay-bale-filled passageways of the Fall Festival at Magnolia
Falls.
Today was the day.
He was finally going to ask Mona out. He’d known her since they
were kids. Because she was his sister’s best friend, he’d always figured
their relationship couldn’t ever be more than platonic. But the time
had come. He couldn’t stand the torment anymore. He had to ask her.
All around, the sights and sounds and smells of the Fall Festival
tugged at him. Homemade pies. Locally brewed beer. Handcrafted
furniture. The tangy scent of barbecue hit his nostrils, and his
stomach rumbled. But no—he would not be lured away by Bandit
Bob’s BBQ or their fine pulled-pork sandwiches. He was a man on a
mission.
He headed straight to the Jammin’ Honey booth, where both Mona
and his sister would be. Over the top of a hay bale, he spotted a
colorful cowgirl hat that could only belong to Mona’s eccentric
Aunt Bee.
Abort! He couldn’t do this with Aunt Bee here. She was wonderful,
but she had a way of commandeering the room—and was never, ever
shy about expressing her thoughts.
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Leo spun on his heel to make a run for it, but Aunt Bee had spotted
him.
She grabbed his elbow. She sure was fast on her feet for an octo‐
genarian.
“Leo! I knew you’d make it. Have you had a chance to grab our
latest coupon?”
Aunt Bee ran the local Coupon Clippers club, and she’d stop at
nothing to get a great deal on a purchase.
“I’ve got the latest steal for you, hon,” she said, squeezing his bicep
as if she were juicing a lemon.
“What’s that, Aunt Bee?” he asked, untangling himself from her
grip.
“It’s a two-for-one over at Greta Cox’s beer booth.” She gave him a
direct look and waggled her eyebrows.
He laughed aloud. “That sounds great. Right up my alley. But I’m
on duty.”
“Well, save it for later,” she said, turning her attention to the aisle,
no doubt looking for her next catch.
Leo smiled despite himself and approached the Jammin’ Honey
booth. Vicki, his sister and the world’s best purveyor of honeybee
products, was chatting with some customers, but he didn’t see Mona.
Where could she be? The anxious tug in his belly surprised him.
Vicki spotted him and waved him over. She finished chatting with
her customer and then picked up a couple of packets and held them
out toward Leo. “Got some samples for you.”
He gave her a look. “Haven’t I tried all your stuff before?”
Leo tended to be Vicki’s guinea pig for all her body scrubs and face
products. Some had turned out great, while others had been a little
questionable. She’d once turned his face green.
Vicki laughed. “You can never have too many scrubs.”
“I’m here to eat.” Leo patted his abs and looked around. “Where’s
Mona?”
Vicki smirked at him. “Mona doesn’t need to be here to feed you.
Help yourself.” She pointed toward the samples of homemade jams
and jellies on the gluten-free bread Mona loved so much. Leo picked
up a couple and stuffed them in his mouth.
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Diana Orgain is the USA Today Bestselling Author of the Maternal Instincts Mystery Series, Love or Money Mystery series, and The Roundup Crew Mysteries. Diana is also the New York Times Bestselling co-author of the Scrapbooking Mystery Series with Laura Childs. To keep up to date with the latest releases visit Diana at www.dianaorgain.com GRAB YOUR COPY OF MURDER AS SAVORY AS BISCUITS HERE
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May 27, 2021
Murder as Savory as Biscuits (Cooking up Murder Mystery Series: Book Three) Sneak Peek – Chapter Three Continued
Did you miss Chapter One?
Did you miss Chapter Two?
Did you miss part one of Chapter Three?
From Murder as Savory as Biscuits
Chapter Three Continued…
“See,” Mona said quietly.
Leo couldn’t help but agree with her. This wasn’t a vicious dog. If
it had attacked, it must have been severely provoked.
The dog willingly followed Mona down the trail, and she spread
her picnic blanket across Leo’s back seat and coaxed the dog into the
car. He hoped the picnic blanket would be enough and that he
wouldn’t find bloodstains on his seats later, but he didn’t breathe a
word of that concern to Mona.
“Hey,” he said as he made the first turn. “Can you call ahead and let
the vet know we’re coming?”
“Great idea!” She dialed, and after a brief conversation, she hung
up and said, “They’ll see us as soon as we get there.”
Sure enough, they were ushered to an exam room as soon as they
brought the dog in. The vet swept into the room, and Leo was struck
by his gentle demeanor. But the vet cast a suspicious glance at Leo and
Mona.
“I understand we have a stab wound?” the vet asked.
“That’s right,” said Mona. “On his front leg.”
The vet bent down and scratched the dog’s chin, then inspected
the stab wound. “Blood on his fur too,” he murmured. He looked up at
Leo and Mona. “What happened?”
“We’re not sure,” said Leo. “I’m a detective. We found the dog at a
crime scene, and I’m taking care of him while the case is under inves‐
tigation.”
The vet eyed Leo as if he didn’t quite believe him, so Leo pulled
out his badge and held it out for inspection. The vet studied it and
nodded, then stood and stuck out his hand. “I’m Dr. Mansour. Pleased
to meet you.”
Leo returned the handshake.
Dr. Mansour looked back down at the retriever and said, “All right,
big guy, should we get you up on the exam table?”
The dog’s tail thumped.
Dr. Mansour and Mona eased the dog onto the table, and then Dr.
Mansour gave the dog a shot to numb the pain.
The retriever hardly flinched.
“We’re going to clean the wound and then stitch it up,” Dr.
Mansour said. “He did really good with that shot. Are you a good
boy?”
Leo and Mona sat while the vet finished treating the wound. When
he finished, the dog raised its head and gave the vet kisses on his chin.
With a chuckle, Dr. Mansour said, “Really great dog. Some dogs I
have to drug pretty heavily to get them to sit still for stitches, or even
bring in a few techs to hold them down—or both. I’ve been bitten and
knocked over I can’t tell you how many times. A tech will be back in a
moment with a couple days of pain medication. Make sure he doesn’t
overgroom the stitches, or we’ll have to put a cone on him. Any
questions?”
“Just one,” said Leo. “So, nothing you’ve seen would make you
think the dog has any aggressive tendencies?”
“Not at all. Why?”
“We’re ruling him out as a suspect in a crime.”
“Hmm.” Dr. Mansour reached out and ruffled the retriever’s ears.
“What’s the situation?”
“Dead guy,” said Leo with a grimace.
Dr. Mansour’s eyes widened. “With a dog bite?”
“It looked like there was a bite to the throat. Body was found in the
woods. Dog led us to him.”
Mona added, “The dog seemed sad.”
Dr. Mansour nodded slowly. “Well, almost every dog can be
pushed to violence in the right circumstances—just like almost any
person can be. Some dogs will be violent if they feel threatened. Even
more will be violent if their person is threatened. But if he led you to
the body and seemed sad, I’d say with a fair degree of certainty that
he’s not your biter. I’d guess you’ll discover that the victim was his
owner.” He reached out again and gave the retriever one more pat on
the head. “Poor thing. Let me know if you need anything else, all
right?”
“Thank you for all your help,” said Mona.
Dr. Mansour nodded and left the room, leaving Leo alone with
Mona and the dog.
“See?” Mona said with a self-satisfied look.
Leo sighed. “I agree with you. I really do. But you know what that
scene looked like, and I don’t want you to get too upset if they wind
up putting him down.”
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Mona nodded slowly. “I understand. But those other officers just
seemed so quick to jump to conclusions.”
“You know, I didn’t see a knife on Darsey,” Leo said. “Which prob‐
ably means someone else was at that crime scene. It’s possible the
knife will be found by the other officers. I didn’t have much of a
chance to look around, because we left before they finished
processing the evidence. But if Darsey stabbed the dog, it’s going to
come off looking like he was trying to defend himself against a
mauling.”
Mona sighed. “It just doesn’t feel right, Leo. I mean, I’m a big
animal person, I know. So I’m sure it seems like I’m biased. But just
look at him.”
Leo glanced down at the retriever that was now curled up on the
floor, looking impossibly dejected.
“Plus,” said Mona. “He’s a golden retriever. They’re family-friendly
dogs. I’ve never met an aggressive one.”
That was a fair point. Had Leo seen a single biting incident in a
golden retriever in his time on the force? He didn’t think so.
A vet tech returned, handing Leo a bag. “The meds will help the
poor guy with pain,” he said. “Wrap one pill up into some bologna or
ham to get him to eat it. Once in the morning and once at night. Give
him the first one tonight before you go to bed, and he should be okay.
You’re going to want to be careful when bathing him too. His stitches
are fine to get wet, but you’ll want to be very gentle around the
wound.”
Leo nodded. “Yeah, he’s going to need a bath, for sure.”
“Last thing.” The tech held up a wand of some kind. “Mind if I scan
him for a microchip? See if we can track down the owner that way?”
“Please do,” said Leo.
The tech waved the wand over the dog’s neck and shoulders.
“We’ve got a chip!” he exclaimed. “I’ll call the chip company and get
you the owner’s information.”
At checkout, Leo cringed at the six-hundred-dollar bill. Maybe the
station would reimburse him, but he doubted it. He’d volunteered to
take care of the dog, so he was probably going to be stuck with the
bill. He sighed and handed his credit card to the receptionist.
“Good boy. Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?” crooned Mona
behind him. He glanced over his shoulder. She was kneeling down on
the floor, scratching the dog behind the ears. The dog’s tail was
wagging as it rubbed its head against her arms.
“That poor thing,” the receptionist said as she ran Leo’s card. “Why
would someone hurt such a sweet dog?”
Leo shrugged. He was still thinking about the massive credit card
bill he was going to have to pay at the end of the month.
Then the vet tech came into the room, frowning. “So, the dog is
chipped, but the company said that there’s no owner information—
that the owner called in last Friday asking for all their information to
be taken off the chip’s record. They weren’t able to give me more than
that.”
Last Friday? Leo frowned. Odd. That was before the time of death.
Even if the owner had planned to sic the dog on Jonathan, surely they
hadn’t planned on leaving it out in the woods as evidence.
He and Mona headed out, and the dog walked right at their heels.
It didn’t even need a leash.
Leo dropped Mona off at her house, and she smiled brightly at him
before she climbed out of the car and headed toward her door. When
she was safely in the house, he let out a long sigh. The dog gingerly
picked its way over the console and into the passenger seat.
Leo absentmindedly reached out and scratched the retriever’s
head.
What in the world did I get myself into?
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Diana Orgain is the USA Today Bestselling Author of the Maternal Instincts Mystery Series, Love or Money Mystery series, and The Roundup Crew Mysteries. Diana is also the New York Times Bestselling co-author of the Scrapbooking Mystery Series with Laura Childs. To keep up to date with the latest releases visit Diana at www.dianaorgain.com GRAB YOUR COPY OF MURDER AS SAVORY AS BISCUITS HERE
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Murder as Savory as Biscuits (Cooking up Murder Mystery Series: Book Three) Sneak Peek – Chapter Three
Did you miss Chapter One?
Did you miss Chapter Two?
From Murder as Savory as Biscuits
Chapter Three
Not exactly the way I was hoping our first date would go,”
Mona said under her breath, looking anywhere except at
the body in the brush.
Leo nodded, sighing heavily. He’d just gotten off the phone with
dispatch, and they were sending a crime-scene unit. The dog whined,
not budging from the man’s side.
Yup, this year sure had brought a whole spree of bad luck to the
town of Magnolia Falls. Their small community hadn’t seen a murder
in ten years, and then an arsonist had burned down Mona’s store,
killing someone in the process. Just a few months later, a pair of
selfish siblings had murdered two people in a bid to keep themselves
from being disinherited, and Leo’s sister Vicki had been caught up in
the middle of the investigation.
And now he’d found a body in the woods.
The dog pushed his nose into the man’s face and whimpered
mournfully.
“Come here, boy,” Leo said, worried the dog was going to contami‐
nate the crime scene. The dog whined again and limped over to Leo.
“Is he hurt?” Mona asked.
Leo bent down next to the retriever. Its face was covered in blood.
From the dead man, maybe? The dog had been sniffing around him
quite a bit. But upon further examination, he found a stab wound in
the dog’s front right leg.
“He’s been stabbed,” Leo said.
“The man?” Mona asked.
“The dog.”
“You poor thing!” Mona cried, kneeling. The dog’s tail thumped
half-heartedly. While Mona fawned over the injured dog, Leo took
another look at the body. What he saw chilled him to his core, and a
protective instinct rushed over him.
“Oh my gosh! Mona, stay away from the dog!” he snapped, spin‐
ning around. The retriever was lying on its back, and Mona was
rubbing its belly.
“Why?” she asked.
“This man . . . he was bit . . . in the throat . . .” Leo stood upright
despite a wave of nausea.
Mona furrowed her eyebrows like he was crazy. “You think this
sweet little guy killed him? There’s no way.”
“Mona, I don’t know, but it kinda looks that way. Please, just back
away from the dog.”
She crossed her arms and stood up. “There’s no way this dog killed
that guy.”
“Leo!” a voice called from beyond the trees.
“Over this way!” Leo called back, waving his arms as a handful of
officers from the station’s crime-scene unit trudged past the tree line.
“This dog is sweet,” Mona insisted, still rubbing the retriever’s
belly. “If it hurt that man like that, it wasn’t the aggressor. Maybe the
guy was the one who stabbed him or something.”
Leo eyed her, then turned and shook hands with his fellow officers
and briefly explained how they’d come across the scene.
One of the younger officers, Reynolds, squinted toward the body.
“Shoot, I know him.”
“Who is he?” Leo asked.
“Jonathan Darsey,” Reynolds said. “Business guy.”
“I could have guessed that from the suit,” Leo said.
“Oh, I know the name,” said Officer Truff, the oldest member of
the group. “He’s new to town, isn’t he?”
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“Yeah,” said Reynolds. “Well, sort of. He’s from Pigeon Hollow
originally. Lives somewhere in the county. I’ve heard it’s a big estate,
but I don’t know where it is. But he just bought that big lot on the
edge of town for his factory. What are they making? Boots or
something?”
“Speaking of which,” Mona said, stepping into the circle of officers.
“What’s a guy doing dressed like that in the middle of the woods?”
“Probably not hiking.” Leo crossed his arms. “The dog does seem
to know him, though.”
“Doesn’t take a genius to see that the dog bit him and that he bled
out,” Reynolds said. “Dog’s gonna have to be put down.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions, rookie,” replied Truff. “We’re going to
need an autopsy.”
“Seriously?” Reynolds questioned. “The dog is covered in his
blood, and that wound on his neck is obviously a bite mark.”
Mona put her hands on her hips. “This dog didn’t bite him!”
Reynolds shot a questioning look in her direction. “Unless the
autopsy results show something crazy, it seems pretty straightforward
to me.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Mona retorted. “The guy’s in the middle of the
woods in a suit. No one walks their dog like that. Look at his shoes. It
doesn’t make sense. And someone even stabbed the poor dog in the
leg.”
“I don’t know,” Officer Truff said, his eyes kind. “If I had to guess,
the dog attacked the victim, the victim stabbed back in self-defense,
and its owner ran off when they realized their dog had killed the
man.”
Mona’s hands shook, and she bit her lip like she might be about to
burst into angry tears.
“Okay, let’s slow down a bit, fellas,” Leo said. “I think Mona might
have a point. The scene is odd, and the dog hasn’t shown any signs of
aggression. Let’s be sure we do a thorough sweep of the scene.”
“What about the dog?” Reynolds asked.
“I guess we take it to the pound after we get a cast of its mouth to
confirm whether or not it actually bit the victim,” said Truff. “Then,
after the autopsy, we’ll know whether it needs to be put down or not.”
Mona grabbed Leo’s arm and shook her head, eyes wide. “They’ll
mistreat it,” she whispered harshly. “They think it’s a killer.”
Leo sighed and glanced from Mona to the crime-scene unit to the
retriever. He surprised himself with the next words out of his mouth.
“I’ll take the dog. It needs to be seen by a vet, and there’s one near my
house.”
Reynolds stared at him, agape. “You’re really going to watch this
dog while this case is being investigated?”
“I don’t see why not,” Leo said. “I’ve got plenty of room, and my
yard is fenced in.”
Truff shrugged. “Let me check in with the chief and see if it’s okay
for the dog to come home with you, but he’ll probably be glad he
doesn’t have to deal with the idiot who runs animal control. You three
start on the crime scene, and I’ll head back to the cruiser and radio the
chief.”
Leo looked down at the retriever. It was lying on the ground, head
propped up on its front paws, occasionally letting out a soft whine.
Panic flared in Leo’s chest. What had he just committed to?
Great going, Leo.
But then Mona threaded her fingers through his and squeezed his
hand. A giddy smile flashed across his face.
This would be fine. This had been a good idea. If the dog was inno‐
cent, they couldn’t very well let it be swept off to the pound. It might
get euthanized prematurely there.
Mona sat next to the dog and rubbed its ears, murmuring in
soothing tones. Though Leo kept a sharp eye on the retriever for any
signs of aggression, it just lay there, its tail occasionally thumping
from side to side.
A few minutes later, Officer Truff reappeared on the path,
shooting Leo a thumbs-up. “You’re good to take the dog,” he called.
“Just wait a few minutes for the forensics team. They need to swab the
blood on the dog’s fur and take a cast of its mouth.”
When the forensics team arrived, they did their job quickly and
efficiently, and the dog appeared no more aggressive even when three
people were poking and prodding him and prying his mouth open to
take the cast.
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Diana Orgain is the USA Today Bestselling Author of the Maternal Instincts Mystery Series, Love or Money Mystery series, and The Roundup Crew Mysteries. Diana is also the New York Times Bestselling co-author of the Scrapbooking Mystery Series with Laura Childs. To keep up to date with the latest releases visit Diana at www.dianaorgain.com GRAB YOUR COPY OF MURDER AS SAVORY AS BISCUITS HERE
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Murder as Savory as Biscuits (Cooking up Murder Mystery Series: Book Three) Sneak Peek – Chapter Two Continued
Did you miss Chapter One?
Did you miss part one of Chapter Two?
From Murder as Savory as Biscuits
Chapter Two Continued…
He scooched closer to her until their hips touched. He wrapped an
arm around her waist, and she stiffened, suddenly going quiet. His
breath hitched. Had he misread her signals? Did she not want him to
touch her?
Mind racing, he released her. “I’m—”
A loud rustling in the bushes stopped him short.
Leo jumped to his feet as a golden retriever tore out of the
brambles.
“What on earth!” Mona shrieked.
The dog wailed loudly and charged at them. Was that blood on its
fur? Was it rabid? Had it been attacked by something?
Instinctively, Leo stepped between Mona and the dog. He
regretted taking off his boots. Trouble never seemed to be far away; a
string of bad luck seemed to have stalked the town of Magnolia Falls
recently. The dog barked and whined mournfully.
“He’s hurt,” Mona said, moving toward the retriever.
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“Hold up, hold up,” Leo said. “Don’t touch it.”
The dog barked at them sharply, then tore off back into the woods.
Leo and Mona glanced at each other. A moment later, the dog’s snout
poked through the bushes, and it barked again, as if beckoning them.
“He wants us to follow him,” Mona said.
“You stay here,” he told her, tying his laces.
“Not on your life,” she said, sticking her feet into her boots. “I’m
going with you.”
“You’re stubborn.”
Mona snorted. “You like it.”
He swallowed. She was right. And maybe her retort meant she had
wanted him to put his arm around her?
She tore off after the dog, with Leo in hot pursuit.
The dog raced through the bushes, howling as it led them down a
narrow path toward the bottom of the falls. A sickening pit opened up
in Leo’s stomach. This was trouble—he knew it. He grabbed for his
shoulder radio and realized he hadn’t brought it along. Of course he
hadn’t. It was his day off. He wasn’t in uniform.
The dog galloped to the far side of a clearing. Once there, it
stopped short and growled.
Leo reached for his ankle holster. Thank goodness some habits
died hard, even when he was off duty in a small town.
“Stay here and call 911,” Leo said to Mona. She pulled out her cell
phone and dialed.
Leo reached the dog, now on point, and called out, “Police.”
The silence was deafening. Then the dog began to cry. It whined
and whimpered, finally laying its head on its forepaws.
“What is it, boy?” Leo asked. But somehow, he already knew.
He holstered his weapon and shoved aside the brush.
A body lay in the foliage—a man wearing a suit drenched in blood
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Diana Orgain is the USA Today Bestselling Author of the Maternal Instincts Mystery Series, Love or Money Mystery series, and The Roundup Crew Mysteries. Diana is also the New York Times Bestselling co-author of the Scrapbooking Mystery Series with Laura Childs. To keep up to date with the latest releases visit Diana at www.dianaorgain.com GRAB YOUR COPY OF MURDER AS SAVORY AS BISCUITS HERE
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Murder as Savory as Biscuits (Cooking up Murder Mystery Series: Book Three) Sneak Peek – Chapter One Continued
From Murder as Savory as Biscuits
Chapter One Continued…
“So . . . where is she?” he asked.
Vicki put her hands on her hips. “Aha! Are you finally going to ask
her out?”
“I’d like to,” Leo said. “And I’d like to do it without you being so
nosy about it.”
Vicki pumped her fist triumphantly. “You know I want my best
friend to be my sister-in-law. Get to it.”
“Well, where is she, for crying out loud?” Leo asked, exasperated.
“She’ll be here soon. She was running over to talk to some of the
people at the cheese booth to see if they could pair some dry cheeses
with her jam.”
Leo nodded. Mona was a workaholic. It was one of the things he
liked about her. Before long, he glimpsed her honey-colored hair
through the crowd, and a warm feeling filled his chest. A shy smile
crossed Mona’s face when she saw him, and the warm feeling grew.
“Hey!” Mona said. “Are you hungry? I’ve wrangled some cheese
samples.” She unpackaged the bundle she was carrying, and Leo dug
into some cheese and grapes.
“Well . . . I had another reason for coming,” he said after he swal‐
lowed. “Although this cheese is excellent.”
Mona looked at him expectantly, and Vicki ducked down as if she
were digging more product out of the boxes underneath the table.
He paused, then blurted, “I was wondering if maybe you had time
Wednesday afternoon. I have the day off. I wanted to hike up to the
falls, maybe have a picnic.”
Mona bit her lip. “I’d love that,” she said, her voice squeaking.
“Wednesday it is.”
They looked at each other awkwardly, and suddenly Leo didn’t
know what to do with himself. He wanted to kiss her, but that would
be too much too fast. Like an idiot, he fought the impulse to stick his
hand out to shake hers.
She’d agreed to a date, not a business deal, for crying out loud.
Clumsily, he stuck his hands in his pockets.
“I can pack the basket,” Mona said, her cheeks reddening. “I’ll get
some more of these cheeses, and maybe a little wine?”
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He nodded. “That sounds great.” From his pocket, he fished out the
coupon Aunt Bee had given him and offered it to Mona. “Oh, I have a
two-for. Two beers for the price of one, but I can’t drink right now.
I’m on duty.” He tapped the police-issued radio strapped to his
shoulder.
Mona accepted the coupon. “Thank you! Vicki and I will have
some after we clean up our booth. We’ll toast to you.” She gave him a
big wink, then seemed flustered about it. “It’s . . . the last day of the
festival. The booth has done really well, so it’ll be good to have a way
to celebrate.”
“Good. I’m very glad,” he said. “Now I need to go and patrol—keep
this rowdy Fall Festival crowd under control.”
As if on cue, a country band took the stage and started crooning a
cover of “I Cross My Heart.” In front of the stage, couples paired off to
slow dance.
Leo and Mona exchanged looks. He wished he could stay and
dance with her, but he needed to make the rounds. And it wasn’t like
he could ask her to slow dance yet; he’d just asked her on a first date!
Two teenage boys whizzed by them, a vendor in hot pursuit.
“Shoplifter!” yelled the vendor.
Adrenaline surged in Leo, and he bolted after the little thieves,
shouting over his shoulder, “See you Wednesday!”
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Diana Orgain is the USA Today Bestselling Author of the Maternal Instincts Mystery Series, Love or Money Mystery series, and The Roundup Crew Mysteries. Diana is also the New York Times Bestselling co-author of the Scrapbooking Mystery Series with Laura Childs. To keep up to date with the latest releases visit Diana at www.dianaorgain.com GRAB YOUR COPY OF MURDER AS SAVORY AS BISCUITS HERE
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Murder as Sweet as Honey (Cooking up Murder Mystery Series: Book Two) Sneak Peek – Chapter One
Chapter One
Vicki Lawson pulled into the parking lot three minutes late.
That was fashionably late, right? She took a breath as she
grabbed her wicker basket of samples.
“Breathe,” she whispered. “This will go great.”
She’d known it was a long shot when she dialed the phone number
on the flyer. After last year’s debacle, she hadn’t expected to get a
booth at the Fall Festival—Julia, the festival chair, had absolutely
hated Mona’s jam and Vicki’s honey and had sent them packing. Her
exact words had been something like, “You’ll get a booth here over my
dead body.”
But Vicki had decided to try again this year—she and her best
friend, Mona, needed a venue to sell their products while Jammin’
Honey was being rebuilt. If Vicki could move some of her products at
the Fall Festival, she’d buy herself—and her dwindling savings
account—a little more time.
And the long shot might be about to pay off. When Vicki had
called, she’d found out that Julia wasn’t the festival chair this year, and
that the new chair would be delighted to take a look at Vicki’s
samples.
Vicki opened the car door and headed toward the warehouse.
The exterior of the warehouse looked festival ready. Straw bales
and pumpkins lined the outside, alongside a few scarecrows. Some
leaves were scattered by the entrance, and a large sign on the roof
announced the dates of the festival.
Pretty good advertising, Vicki thought. I feel festive already!
Then Vicki caught sight of Julia near the corner of the building.
Less festive, now. What’s she doing here?
Julia was tall, with chestnut hair and an impeccable sense of fash‐
ion. Today, her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and her belted
coat and skinny jeans looked effortlessly put together. But Vicki only
had time to feel a flash of envy at Julia’s sartorial sensibilities.
Something wasn’t right.
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Julia was gesticulating wildly, arguing with an older man. By the
time Vicki drew near the door, the man had stormed off. Julia whirled
around and caught sight of Vicki, and her face reddened.
“Hey, Vicki,” Julia called, striding toward her.
Vicki paused, unsure what to do. Why was Julia even here if she
wasn’t the festival chair?
“Um . . .” Julia reached her. “That was my stepdad. He wants to sell
his paintings at the festival.”
“Oh.” Vicki opened the door halfway. “I thought Kristen was coor‐
dinating it this year.”
Julia glowered. “She is, but I’m the deputy chair. And I won’t have
his paintings here. They’re not very good, and he prices them way too
high.”
Vicki stayed where she was and let the door swing closed. Julia
seems . . . really upset. Despite her profound dislike for the woman, a
kernel of sympathy bloomed in her chest.
“He kept saying these paintings were different, that he’d price
them reasonably and that he wasn’t as protective of them, but I know
how he is about his stupid art. I can’t have him in the festival,” Julia
said. “We can’t be responsible for them. If one of his paintings got
damaged or stolen . . . well, he’d have a fit.”
“That looked like more than a painting issue,” said Vicki slowly. “Is
everything okay? It seemed pretty heated.”
Julia scoffed, but her chin trembled. “Family. You know the drill.”
“Family?” Vicki probed.
“My mom’s sick.” Julia stopped, looking almost surprised that the
words had come out of her mouth. “Never mind me and my problems.
It’s not a big deal. What are you doing here?”
It seemed like a big deal. But Vicki decided to keep that observation
to herself. “I’m here to talk to Kristen. She invited me to bring samples
over.”
Julia looked at the basket, rolled her eyes, and shoved the door
open. Vicki followed her inside.
A spacious room opened up before her, the exposed wiring and
piping along the ceiling offering a casually trendy ambiance.
Halfway across the space, a flannel-clad woman with braided red
hair was laying down some papers, spacing each sheet about ten feet
apart. She glanced toward Vicki and Julia and waved.
“Vicki?” she called.
Vicki nodded, then sneezed. The light streaming in from a set of
high windows illuminated the floating dust motes.
The woman jogged in her direction and stuck out her hand. “I’m
Kristen. Just mapping out vendor stalls. This is our first year in this
space, and they let us come in early.”
Vicki shook Kristen’s hand. “So good to meet you.”
Kristen pointed to a nearby table covered in a decade of dust.
“Yikes. This place needs a cleaning. But why don’t you put your basket
there, if you don’t mind, and we’ll take a look at your samples.” Then
she glanced quizzically at Julia. “Who was yelling just now?”
“Frank was harassing me again,” moaned Julia.
Kristen rested a hand on Julia’s upper back, and they stepped away,
Kristen’s voice becoming soothing.
While they were talking, Vicki placed her baskets on the table and
pulled out a handful of sample tins. After a minute, Julia and Kristen
returned to the table.
“Here are the samples,” Vicki said to Kristen.
Before Kristen could reach them or say anything, Julia snatched a
tin of the relaxing body scrub, opened it, and sniffed. She wrinkled
her nose and muttered, “I wouldn’t put this crap in the festival.”
Molten frustration welled up in Vicki’s chest. Well, I wouldn’t put
your crappy attitude in the festival.
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Diana Orgain is the USA Today Bestselling Author of the Maternal Instincts Mystery Series, Love or Money Mystery series, and The Roundup Crew Mysteries. Diana is also the New York Times Bestselling co-author of the Scrapbooking Mystery Series with Laura Childs. To keep up to date with the latest releases visit Diana at www.dianaorgain.com GRAB YOUR COPY OF MURDER AS SWEET AS HONEY HERE
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Murder as Sweet as Honey (Cooking up Murder Mystery Series: Book Two) Sneak Peek – Chapter Three Continued
Did you miss Chapter One?
Did you miss Chapter Two?
Did you miss Chapter Three part one?
Chapter Three Continued…
“Wha—” Her attention snapped to the salad bowl on the counter. A
certain white duck was beak-first in the romaine lettuce, looking
entirely too satisfied with herself. “Sunny!” she shrieked. “How did
you—”
But the answer presented itself immediately when she looked at
the window she’d left half-open. “Sunny, did you come in for more
blueberries and then decide to eat our salad?”
Leo nodded solemnly. “It appears that’s exactly what happened.
We can now refer this case to the district attorney.”
With a long hiss through her teeth, Vicki said, “Well, we can eat
stew? Or order takeout?”
Leo grabbed a spoon and sampled a bite of stew. “The stew will be
fine,” he declared. “Do you have biscuits or anything to go with it?”
“Mmm, I think I still have some frozen breadsticks we could
heat up.”
“Perfect.”
Ten minutes later, they sat down to a cobbled-together meal of
stew and breadsticks. An odd pairing, thought Vicki as she took her
first bite. But it works, somehow.
“So,” said Leo. “Grinding the herbs was actually kind of relaxing.
Do you need any help getting your things ready to sell at the festival?”
“I was hoping you’d ask,” said Vicki. “Would you be able to come
over Sunday and help me make a few things?”
“Sure.” Leo grabbed a breadstick. “Festival starts soon, doesn’t it?
I’m happy to help. Just don’t make me a guinea pig too often.” He
stuck his tongue out at her.
She swatted in his direction. Were they still in grade school? But
she couldn’t keep the grin off her face. “Thank you! I’m so excited!
Julia—the woman who hated us—was there today, too, and Kristen
still let us book a booth.”
“Oh?” He made a face. “I thought she wasn’t running it this year.”
With a shrug, Vicki said, “I guess she’s deputy chair now, instead of
chair? I’m not clear on the details, but it sounded like maybe her
stepdad went around her back and got her demoted so she’d have
more time to take care of her sick mom.”
Leo chewed on his breadstick and raised his eyebrows. “Really?
That’s weird.”
GRAB YOUR COPY OF MURDER AS SWEET AS HONEY HERE
Vicki recounted the odd argument she’d seen and Kristen’s expla‐
nation. “Some people are just very insistent on getting their own way,
I guess.”
“I guess,” Leo said. “Oh, that reminds me of this absolutely bizarre
case I just finished wrapping up at the station.”
They spent the rest of dinner discussing Leo’s most recent case.
After he left, Vicki cleaned up the dishes and then went into the living
room to watch TV. Not that she paid much attention to the show—it
mostly hummed in the background as she jotted down ideas for the
booth on a yellow legal pad. Finally, after a couple hours, she nodded,
satisfied. Mona would have to approve the ideas, but Vicki was sure
they’d have a great booth. Her phone dinged with an alert. Someone
had placed an order on her online store! She skimmed the order. It
was for her sampler package—a small batch of each of her honeys.
Might as well pack that up. She boxed up the honey and addressed it
to the customer, then set it on the counter to take to the post office
the next day.
After mixing up one more batch of the newly perfected energizing
scrub and feeding Sunny, she decided to call it a night.
Just as she was turning out the light to go to bed, her phone rang.
It was Leo again.
Vicki furrowed her eyebrows. Why is he calling so late? She
answered.
“Did you hear what happened?” asked Leo.
Vicki sat up in bed, heart racing. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is
Mona okay?”
“Everyone you know is okay. Something happened at the park
today. Julia’s stepdad died under mysterious circumstances.”
He died? I just saw him! “Mysterious circumstances? What
happened?” asked Vicki, wide awake now.
“Someone pushed him off the bridge in the park—probably
around two o’clock, we’re guessing. There were signs of a struggle. We
have Julia’s brother in custody.”
GRAB YOUR COPY OF MURDER AS SWEET AS HONEY HERE
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Diana Orgain is the USA Today Bestselling Author of the Maternal Instincts Mystery Series, Love or Money Mystery series, and The Roundup Crew Mysteries. Diana is also the New York Times Bestselling co-author of the Scrapbooking Mystery Series with Laura Childs. To keep up to date with the latest releases visit Diana at www.dianaorgain.com GRAB YOUR COPY OF MURDER AS SWEET AS HONEY HERE
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Murder as Sweet as Honey (Cooking up Murder Mystery Series: Book Two) Sneak Peek – Chapter Three
Did you miss Chapter One?
Did you miss Chapter Two?
Chapter Three
By the time Vicki and Leo finished the scrub, anticipation
pulsed through her.
“Time to test it!” she cried, snatching the bowl from the counter.
“Hold on,” said Leo, his face a picture of resignation. “You’ve
already given yourself a sunburn. Let me try it on one of my arms.”
“Are you sure, Grinch? You swore you were done being my guinea
pig,” Vicki teased.
Leo rolled his eyes. “Give me that,” he said, taking the bowl out of
Vicki’s hands. He bounded up the steps, and by the time Vicki caught
back up with him, he’d rubbed the scrub on the underside of his arm.
They stood there and waited.
“How does it feel?” Vicki asked hesitantly. “Is there a tingling
sensation?”
“Yeah, it tingles,” said Leo. Then he started screaming, “It burns! It
burns!”
Vicki gasped and dove for the sink. But Leo burst into uproarious
laughter, and she whirled back around.
“You should have seen your face!” Leo crowed. “You actually
turned pale.”
Vicki’s heartbeat slowed its gallop, but she couldn’t help a grin.
“That was not funny. Seriously, how does it feel?”
GRAB YOUR COPY OF MURDER AS SWEET AS HONEY HERE
“It feels really good. It’s definitely energizing.”
“Good,” said Vicki. “I wrote down the measurements, so I should
be able to recreate it.” She turned on the faucet so Leo could wash his
arm, then she splashed him with cold water and bolted down the
stairs.
“Now we’re even!” she called.
And now she just needed to figure out how to sell those body
scrubs . . . before she ran out of time.
Speaking of running out of time . . . Was she forgetting something?
At the bottom of the stairs, she stopped, sniffing. Peppermint still
hung heavy in the air, but beneath it was another smell . . . an acrid
smell that sent anxiety racing through her body.
Fire? Was the house on fire? Was her house going to burn down
just like Mona’s store?
She bolted to the kitchen, heart pounding, looking for the source
of the flames. Nothing was on fire, but the burning smell was defi‐
nitely coming from the oven.
“The cornbread!” she wailed.
She grabbed mitts and threw open the oven, coughing at the
smoke. Then she pulled out the pan of cornbread and set it down on
an open burner. The top was absolutely blackened. She closed the
oven slowly, looking mournfully from the ruined cornbread to the
clock and back again. She’d forgotten the cornbread in the oven, but it
had only been in there an extra couple of minutes.
It might be dry, but it shouldn’t be blackened!
She lurched toward the trash and pulled out the box with trem‐
bling fingers. “Oh no,” she whispered. She’d cooked it at 450 degrees
instead of 400. She smacked the box against her head, sending a soft
poof of yellow-white powder into the air.
Footfalls behind her announced Leo’s arrival. “Everything okay?”
he asked, sounding alarmed.
She spun around. “It’s fine,” she said weakly, “if you weren’t too set
on having cornbread.”
A smirk tugged at the edges of his lips. “I’m not too set on corn‐
bread if you’re not too set on salad.”
GRAB YOUR COPY OF MURDER AS SWEET AS HONEY HERE
Stay up to date and Join the fun!
Diana Orgain is the USA Today Bestselling Author of the Maternal Instincts Mystery Series, Love or Money Mystery series, and The Roundup Crew Mysteries. Diana is also the New York Times Bestselling co-author of the Scrapbooking Mystery Series with Laura Childs. To keep up to date with the latest releases visit Diana at www.dianaorgain.com GRAB YOUR COPY OF MURDER AS SWEET AS HONEY HERE
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