Murder in the Mix (Books 4-6)
Addison Moore
Contents
Gingerbread and Deadly Dread
Book Description
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Acknowledgments
Seven-Layer Slayer
Book Description
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Acknowledgments
Red Velvet Vengeance
Book Description
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Books by Addison Moore
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Gingerbread and Deadly Dread
Murder in the Mix Mystery #4
Addison Moore
Copyright © 2018 by Addison Moore
This novel is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to peoples either living or deceased is purely coincidental. Names, places, and characters are figments of the author’s imagination. The author holds all rights to this work. It is illegal to reproduce this novel without written expressed consent from the author herself.
All Rights Reserved.
This eBook is for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this eBook with another person, please purchase any additional copies for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Copyright © 2018 by Addison Moore
Created with Vellum
Book Description
My name is Lottie Lemon and I see dead pets. Okay, so on occasion I see dearly departed humans, too, but fortunately for me, that horrible scenario is not playing out at the moment. Instead, I see a beautiful long-departed pooch hovering around a questionably two-timing Santa and all his naughty-hottie elves. Quite frankly, it’s a terrifying sight considering the fact the fantastic phantasm is an ominous harbinger for its previous owner. So when I find my sister’s boyfriend facedown in the snow with a handful of my tasty gingerbread treats, I’m not only sorry for him, but I’m very sorry that I had a blowout with him in front of the entire town of Honey Hollow. And just like that, I get the one thing for Christmas I did not ask for—a number one spot on the suspect list. I have a feeling this is going to be one Christmas I’d rather forget.
Lottie Lemon has a brand new bakery to tend to, a budding romance with perhaps one too many suitors, and she has the supernatural ability to see dead pets—which are always harbingers for ominous things to come. Throw in the occasional ghost of the human variety, a string of murders, and her insatiable thirst for justice, and you’ll have more chaos than you know what to do with.
Living in the small town of Honey Hollow can be murder.
Chapter 1
I see dead people.
Mostly I see those of the furry dearly departed variety, but last month I saw a bona fide once-upon-a human. It was my good friend Everett’s father, and he, like his dearly departed predecessors, was here to warn of some unfortunate soul’s impending doom. But at the moment, I’m not looking at the dearly departed—unless I can quickly arrange otherwise, and, my God, how I would love to—I’m staring at the perverse louse my mother has just introduced me to as her questionable date for the evening.
“Brad Rutherford?” I balk. “Mother, you can’t be serious.” My mother, Miranda Lemon, has been instilling confidence and independence in her three daughters, not to mention leading by example once my father died of a heart attack by running a successful B&B and chartering many groups that cater to women right here in Honey Hollow. Dating a well-documented philanderer who has a craving for all things kinky is taking about ten severe paces back—not just as far as her daughters are concerned, for all womankind.
Mr. Rutherford laughs as if I had fashioned those words to get a chuckle out of him. He’s the cad that was cheating on his wife with Collette Jenner—the same Collette Jenner that his wife poisoned inadvertently instead of shoving this perverted oaf off to the great majority. He’s a tall, stalky man with gray hair and eyes that twinkle with mischief. And I wasn’t kidding about the perverse part either. It turns out, he and Collette shared a penchant for particular tastes in the bedroom, and don’t get me started on the crowd they invited to participate or those kinky rough and rowdy dealings down in a seedy place called the Jungle Room. Miranda Lemon has not had great taste in men since the passing of my father, but this time she has crossed one big, fat perverted line.
“Lottie Lemon!” Mom hisses as she pulls Mr. Rutherford closer to her as if the physical proximity alone was made to drive a point home. “Please mind your manners.” She wrinkles her nose and giggles. “And when you have a chance, see to it that a platter of those fabulous Christmas tree crunchies make their way to our table.” They start to take off and she backtracks. “Ooh, I almost forgot to mention. There’s been a rash of package thefts all over town. Please be careful. It’s such a risk purchasing gifts off the internet this time of year. Pass the word around!” She gives a quick wiggle of the fingers as they take off into the crowded hall of the community center.
It’s the night of the Parks and Recs Christmas extravaganza, and Lainey’s two-timing boyfriend extended an invite to my mother and apparently to her two-timing date. There’s a theme that I refuse to acknowledge taking place among the Lemon women—myself and my sister Meg excluded.
Tanner Redwood is the second two-timing louse of the night who makes my blood boil. I’ve caught him on a couple of occasions entertaining women—mostly girls who look suspiciously underage—behind my sister’s back.
I choose to ignore my mother’s plea for cookies at the moment, and instead make my way to the brand new refrigerated van that Everett surprised me with on Thanksgiving. Everett felt bad that I didn’t win one of these beauties in the pie bake-off last month. Instead, I let my pies burn to a crisp while I helped apprehend the person responsible for Collette’s death.
It’s true. Everett was the only reason I was so wrapped up in the case. Essex Everett Baxter has quickly become my dear friend, so of course I wanted to help clear his good name. I met Everett in September when my old landlords took me to small claims court. Everett was the
presiding judge and, well, let’s just say we had a rather salacious meet and greet just prior to winding up in the courtroom together.
Speaking of salacious meet and greets—a goofy grin rides high on my face as I head out into the frozen night—my new boyfriend Noah and I sort of had a memorable meet and greet of our own on that very same afternoon. But never mind the past. Noah and I are about to venture into far more memorable waters later tonight.
The parking lot is filled to capacity as I venture into the frozen, starless night. The evergreens have cast their sensory spell on the night, loosening their oils in a rich, earthy perfume. I could inhale this scent for days. But Mother Nature hasn’t forgotten about offering us a visual feast. The snow may have been cleared from the roadways, but mounds of glistening fresh powder blankets the rest of Honey Hollow. A storm just buried the entire town in four feet of frosted glory, and we’re well on our way to having a gorgeous white Christmas.
It’s the beginning of December and already all of Main Street has been strung with white twinkle lights and huge furry wreaths punctuated with cherry red bows. The official Honey Hollow tree lighting ceremony is coming up in a few days, and the mayor himself asked me to provide the sweet treats for the occasion. Not to mention the fact the owners of the Jolly Holly Tree Lot have ordered a steady stream of holiday cookies for their staff and customers. Those are both big ticket catering events I was asked to cover this month. But the pièce de résistance is the annual community Christmas party being held at the Evergreen Manor. I’ve never been in charge of so many holiday desserts, but seeing that it’s the first Christmas for the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery, I’m determined to knock it out of the park.
Suffice it to say, business is booming. There’s already an order list for Christmas Eve pies as long as my arm. And as soon as we put up the gingerbread house as a part of our holiday display, we’ve been baking and assembling the cute, candied cottages at breakneck pace—it seems every customer wants at least two. And that fact alone is the very reason the entire bakery, all of Main Street just outside our doors—and I’d venture to say the entire great state of Vermont holds the spiced scent of ginger and black strap molasses. It’s a lovely combination that I can’t seem to get enough of this time of year, which is exactly why I baked three times as many gingerbread cookies as I did those Christmas tree crunchies my mother can’t seem to get enough of.
A car pulls up next to me and out steps a dapper looking Essex Everett Baxter, the aforementioned honorable judge who happens to be my new next-door neighbor as well. Everett is tall, commanding in every sexual way, and, dare I say, handsome to a fault. He’s not one to smile easily. The sound of his laughter is a rare treat, and he manages to garner the attention of every female in a five-mile radius with all that raw testosterone he oozes.
“Lemon”—he nods my way before holding out his hands, and I give him two foil-covered platters to carry in—“you look spectacular this evening.” He says it with a note of suspicion as his eyes do that broken elevator thing up and down my body. Everett and I happen to share a special bond because he just so happened to wrangle my supernatural secret out of me last month. Up until then only Nell Sawyer, my BFF’s Grammy, knew anything about the fact I can see the dead. Believe you me, I wasn’t hungry to tell Everett, and a small part of me still resents how insistent he was that I tell him. Those threats to go to the police didn’t help either. But now that the dearly departed cat is out of the bag, I feel comfortable knowing my secret is safe with him. I feel terrible that Everett is privy to something that Noah is not. But my new boyfriend has nothing to worry about. I’m about to make him privy to a whole lot more of me in just a few hours.
Noah is tall, dark, and handsome as well, but not in any conventional sense. His dark hair is thick and glossy, the color of a raven’s wing. And when it hits the light, it catches fire and makes my insides dissolve with lust. Those marbled verdant green eyes of his remind me of the rich pine trees that Honey Hollow seems to be comprised of. And when he looks right at me, I have a distinct feeling I should yank him into the nearest broom closet and have my way with him. His cheeks are peppered with permanent stubble, and every time he’s around my fingers twitch to touch him. Noah is irresistibly sexy, and that would explain the fact women seem to lean in whenever he’s around. That arresting amount of testosterone he’s been gifted naturally acts as a gravitational pull. He, much like Everett, is slow to smile. Bedroom eyes seem to be his default, and he just so happens to be Ashford County’s number one homicide detective. Some might contest that last fact, but I happen to know it’s the truth.
“Earth to Lottie.” Everett ducks down to my height a moment. “I said you look stunning. You really dressed to the nines.”
My cheeks heat to unsafe levels. “Yes, well, it is a special night. I hear there’s a talent show we’ll be treated to, and let’s not forget it’s the first holiday party of the season.”
“For the Parks and Recs Department.” He continues with his wary scrutinizing stare. “You look like you’re about to head off to prom.”
I cringe at the high school-esque analogy. “Is it that obvious?” I glance down at the emerald gown—strapless no less, with a matching velvet shawl pinned together with an old rhinestone broach in the shape of a candy cane—my biggest and best find at Goodwill this month. I had to eschew the heels for my warm, cozy winter boots, but that’s because I’m still on duty and heels are simply not practical while working with baked goods in any capacity.
I’m not usually one to dress to the nines for any occasion, for sure not when it means my bones will be so cold they’ll threaten to shatter the way they are now, but Noah and I decided this was the night we would exchange holiday gifts a little early.
We’ve decided to give the gift that keeps on giving—each other. So understandably I wanted to look like a stunning woman, not a teenager who has heavily abused her cosmetic privileges. Although, in my defense, I logged about a thousand makeup tutorials to get my contouring and highlighting just right to avoid the aforementioned high school malfeasance. Not only did I plunk down a decent amount of change at the beauty counter for all the Spackle that went into the making of this disaster piece, but it took me three hours to achieve the natural look.
“Never you mind what I’m up to. You look rather dapper yourself.” I happen to know he’s just left work. Everett leaves the house and comes home every single day in a three-piece suit with a dark wool coat thrown over it, and that’s exactly what he has on now. “You came for my cookies, didn’t you?”
He smacks his lips as he looks to the bustling community center before us. “That and the fact Lily extended the invite.”
“Working on another ex, I see.” I’d rather gag myself with a candy cane or poke my eyes out with an evergreen bough than witness Lily Swanson cavorting with Everett. Lily works for me at the bakery, and she’s also the BFF of my long-time self-professed nemesis, Naomi Turner—who happens to be the twin of my own BFF, the fabulous Keelie Turner. Keelie runs the Honey Pot Diner, which is the adjoining establishment to the Cutie Pie. Her Grammy Nell owns both.
Everett rumbles with a dull laugh. “Can one ever have enough?”
“Most people can—with me at the top of the list. Noah and I are forever.” I can’t help but beam as I say it. Noah and Everett used to be stepbrothers back when they were in high school. I’m not quite sure how they truly feel about one another now, but they seem tolerant to say the least.
Keelie bounces in our path just as we enter the back door to the kitchen. “I come bearing gifts!” She holds up a sparkly tote in the shape of a hot pink Christmas stocking. Keelie Turner is as bubbly and cute as her name suggests with her blonde curls bouncing around her shoulders and her blue eyes gleaming with wicked intent. “Look!” She plucks the gift from the bowels of the hot pink stocking and shakes out something red with frilly white trim that looks as soft as down feathers. It’s not until she holds it up, with two hands for Everett and me to inspe
ct, do I wheeze with embarrassment.
“Keelie Nell Turner!” I shout as I do my best to snatch the raunchy accouterment from her hot little hands.
“What?” She cackles into the night as Everett and I make our way past her. “Tonight’s the perfect night for you to dress up as a naughty Mrs. Claus.”
Everett lifts a brow my way as we set down our platters.
“Is that why you’re dressed to impress, Lemon? It’s prom night for Noah and you?”
I give a quick glance at the kitchen staff before smacking Everett on the arm. “Would you keep it down? It is not prom night for Noah and me. I refuse to liken what’s about to take place to some high school sexual blunder filled with teen angst and regret.”
Keelie steals a peppermint melt-away and moans as she takes a bite. She’s dressed head to toe as Santa’s naughty little elf in a tight sequin dress that hardly covers her rear, red and white striped tights, and a pair of high-heeled boots with the toes curling upwards like red satin snakes, each one tipped with a tiny silver bell.
Murder in the Mix (Books 4-6) Page 1
