Ben picks me up and twirls me around. “Told you it would all work out.”
Epilogue
You are the icing on my cupcake.
I nearly skip to my classroom the next day. Even after Beth Abrahams was arrested for the murder of Claire Horne yesterday, I wasn’t sure if I my teaching position was secure. I was beyond excited when I received an email this morning from Dean Jorgenson outlining my class schedule and classroom locations.
I’m a bit disappointed that my first Intro to German Lit class is in the big lecture hall. I was hoping for a more intimate setting, but beggars can’t be choosers. I stop as I arrive at the door of the classroom. I’m worried when I see that the room beyond is dark. Maybe I’m at the wrong room after all? I open the door anyway and turn on the lights.
“Surprise!” I nearly pee my pants and end up dropping my books when I hear the shouting. I look around and see the lecture hall is completely packed. I see former students, other professors and lecturers, as well as the bakery’s regular customers, including a bunch of cops who enjoy a free cup of coffee now and again.
Ben moves away from the group and comes to give me a big hug. “What’s going on?” I ask as he squeezes me.
“We wanted to do something special for you,” he says as he looks out at the group of people. “You deserve a party after what you’ve been through the past weeks.”
I shake my head, and he releases me from his hug before pulling me into his side with an arm over my shoulder. “But how did you arrange this? I didn’t even know if I would be teaching until this morning.”
“That’s my fault,” Fred Advocaat confesses as he moves forward. “I’ve actually been in contact with the dean for some time. Ben hired me to make sure you kept your position.”
I turn my gaze on Ben who is blushing. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask and slap him in his chest. That was a mistake. His chest is rock hard.
He leans down and kisses me. “I told you it would all work out.”
“Let’s get this party started!” Anna shouts. I look over to where she’s standing and see an enormous cake. Ben releases me, and I walk over to Anna. I laugh when I see the cake she’s baked. It’s a sheet cake with a large Get Out of Jail Free Monopoly card outlined in icing on top.
I hear the distinct pop of a champagne cork and turn to see Dean Jorgenson pouring champagne into plastic cups. “Is that allowed?” I ask with a smirk.
The dean shrugs. “You’re not the only one that can flaunt the rules, you know.” I grab a cup from him and take a sip. It’s champagne all right. He raises his cup to me and winks.
Instead of spending the hour introducing students to the greats of German literature we’ll be studying over the semester, I eat cake, drink champagne, and laugh. Man, it feels good. Everyone is slowly saying their goodbyes and leaving when Ben grasps my hand, grabs a bottle of unopened champagne and two plastic cups before dragging me to the top of the lecture hall.
I sit in one of the chairs, and Ben drops down beside me. He opens the bottle and fills the cups with the sparkling wine. “So,” he says and squirms in his chair. “I’ve got something to ask you.” I nod for him to proceed. “I’m not moving out.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Are you asking or telling?”
He puts his cup down and turns to me. “Beautiful,” he says as he cups my cheek with his hand. “I’ll beg if you want me to.” He doesn’t give me a chance to respond before his lips are crashing down on mine.
“Are you sure?” I ask as I pull away from the kiss. “We’ve only been dating for a few weeks. This is a big step.” I’m not going to say anything about him being way out of my league. He has proven – time and again – that he doesn’t care if I’m a bit chubby even though he is a brown-eyed Adonis. For once in my life, I’m going to believe that my size doesn’t matter.
“Sweetheart,” he says as he pulls me off my chair and into his lap. “I’ve known you’re mine for a year. I can’t help it if you’re slow.”
Triple Chocolate Chunk Muffins
Despite the fact that I used to own and run a Bed & Breakfast in which I supplied my guests with homemade baking goods every day, I don’t consider myself a great baker. I understand the basics and I certainly wouldn’t be kicked off Master Chef for failing to make a three-layer cake (how hard is it to stick a toothpick in the cake to make sure it’s done before taking it out of the oven?), but I simply don’t have the patience to be a good baker. Couple that with the fact that I prefer American baked goods, but live in a country where it may be difficult to get American products and you’ve got a recipe for a kitchen disaster. Anyway, here’s a recipe I adapted from the BBC food program, which is super easy and way yummy. ENJOY!
Ingredients
250 grams plain flour
25 grams cocoa powder
2 tsp baking powder
½ tsp baking soda (or bicarbonate of soda)
85 grams each dark and white chocolate, broken into chunks
100 grams milk chocolate, broken into chunks
2 eggs
285 ml sour cream
85 grams brown sugar
85 grams butter, melted
Directions
1. Preheat the oven to 200 degrees Celsius
2. Line a cupcake tray with paper liners
3. In a large bowl, combine the flour, cocoa, baking powder, baking soda and chocolate.
4. In a separate bowl, beat the eggs then add sour cream, sugar and butter.
5. Add the sour cream mixture to the flour mixture and stir until just combined.
6. Spoon the mixture into the cupcake tray.
7. Bake for 20 minutes until well risen.
8. Let sit for 15 minutes before removing onto wire rack. (Assuming you can wait that long. I never can.)
Thanks!
Even though it seems like I spend all my time alone behind the computer, squinting at the screen, it does take more than little old me to finish a book and publish it. It’s customary to thank those people that put up with my mood swings, whining and complaining, and general rudeness (although who can blame me for needing to read that new review right now, even if we are out to dinner with friends?). First and foremost, thanks to my friends and family who allow me to bounce ideas off of them at the most random and sometimes inappropriate of times and locations. I’m so glad that the Jet Jetson video calls aren’t standard yet, as I don’t think anyone would appreciate how often I get the urge to call and ask questions straight out of the shower. I really, really need to buy a robe. I’d name everyone individually, but I’m terrified I’d forget someone, and then we’d start a whole passive-aggressive thing and I’d be completely clueless.
Of course the hubby deserves special mention for designing my book covers, being a beta reader, and just being all-around Mr. Supportive. Sometimes I worry he’s going to figure out that my characters feel more genuine to me than real life, but then he comes home from work wondering if Callie has solved the murder yet, and I know he’s right there in la la land with me.
I also want to throw a general thank you out into the digital universe to thank all the book bloggers who have helped me promote my books and especially those who take the time to read and review one or more of my books. You can’t believe how thankful I am that there are bloggers that not only read my emails begging them for a review but also actually take the time to answer. Thank you!!!
Of course, I can’t forget to thank you, the reader, for buying the book and reading it. I would be extremely honored and thankful if you could write a review—even if it’s just a line or two. You can do that here.
If you want to keep up with what I’m writing next and maybe some good deals on books, too, sign up for my newsletter. Do that here. Or you can just follow me on social media, where I’ll probably say lots of inappropriate things thinking I’m being hilarious.
About the Author – That’s Me
Since my last book was published, I’ve climbed mountains, surfed the se
as, and adventured to the ends of the earth. Yes! It all happened – in my mind. I was not born at the ends of the earth but, rather, in Wisconsin and, although there are those who believe Wisconsin is the middle of nowhere, I beg to differ. How can two hours from Chicago be nowhere? But if you ask me where I’m from, I’m likely to say Holland. Way cooler, isn’t it? After spending my senior year of high school in Germany, I developed a wicked case of wanderlust that is yet to be cured. My flying Dutch husband and I have lived in Ohio, Virginia, the Netherlands, Germany, and now Istanbul. We still haven’t decided if we want to settle down somewhere—let alone where. I’m leaning towards somewhere I can learn to surf, even though the hubby thinks that’s a less than sound way to decide where to live. Although, I’ve been a military policewoman, a commercial lawyer, and a B&B owner, I think with writing I may have finally figured out what I want to be when I grow up. I don’t plan on growing up any time soon, though. Between playing tennis, running much slower than I would like, trying to adopt every stray dog within a five-mile radius, traveling to exotic new locales, singing off tune, drinking entirely too many adult beverages, addictively watching new movies, and reading books like they are going out of style, I write articles for various websites, review other indie authors’ books, write a blog about whatever comes to mind, and am working on my ninth (no, that’s can’t be right!?) book.
Other books by D.E. Haggerty:
Unforeseen Consequences
Buried Appearances / Begraven in het Verleden
Life Discarded
Murder, Mystery & Dating Mayhem
Jack Gets His Man
Love in the Time of Murder
The Gray-Haired Knitting Detectives Series
Molly’s Misadventures
Connect with me online:
Website & blog
Twitter
Facebook
Goodreads
Google+
Pinterest
An Excerpt from Murder, Mystery & Dating Mayhem
Chapter 1
“Middle of the Road” – The Pretenders
“Ugh!” I shout at the mirror and throw my eyebrow tweezers at it. Expecting a loud thunk but only getting a little ping instead, annoys me further. Growing old sucks balls and not just any balls – big, hairy, sweaty balls. I can handle the wrinkles. Everyone gets wrinkles. I can even handle the gray hair. After all, it can look dignified or, more likely, be dyed back to its original color when all else fails. But dark hairs on my chin? That’s where I draw the line.
I hear a laugh behind me and look to see Jack staring at me with mirth in his eyes. I should have never given the man a key to my house. Jack is my BFF and has been since the first day of middle school. Some kid called me metal mouth and before I had a chance to smack him, which I totally would have, Jack came to my rescue. We’ve been inseparable ever since. When Jack came out to his parents, I was the one standing next to him holding his hand. He slept on the floor of my bedroom at my parents’ house for a month until his own calmed down.
Just because Jack is my BFF doesn’t mean I don’t get embarrassed when he catches me trying to rid myself of evidence that I am aging and much faster than him at that. Jack’s my age, but he looks at least a decade younger. Life is so freaking unfair!
“Put down your weapons,” Jack says and raises his hands in surrender.
“Ha, flipping ha,” I mutter. I narrow my eyes when I catch sight of a pink flyer in his hands. Oh no. My BFF is the king of harebrained schemes, and a pink flyer can only mean bad news. I start to back away but have nowhere to go in my tiny bathroom.
Jack smiles and starts stalking me like a predator. He waves the flyer at me. He actually bounces on his toes in excitement. “I signed you up for speed dating!” Speed dating? Also known as – how can I embarrass myself over and over in a single evening?
I stop moving backward, cross my arms across my chest and plant my feet. “You did what!” I may have shrieked.
Jack’s smile turns into a smirk.
“I’m not going,” I announce and try to push past him.
Jack is having none of that. He grips my elbow, stopping me. “Oh yes you are missy! You’re going or I’m going to tell everyone about your little chin hair problem.”
I gasp. “You wouldn’t!” He doesn’t respond but continues to smirk at me. Shoot, he totally would. The little creep! I drop my face into my hands and whine. “Why? Why are you doing this to me?”
Jack throws his head back and laughs. “Seriously?” He raises one eyebrow at me. “You need to get laid woman!”
It’s annoying how Jack is almost always right. I do indeed need to get laid. I recently turned forty, and I’ve been a widow for almost five years. I’ve tried getting back in the game a few times, but I’m just not that interested. Okay, I lie. I’m totally interested, but the dates I’ve suffered through since losing my husband were disasters of such epic proportions, I gave up.
I blame myself. I have no idea how to date. Ryan, my late husband, was my first and only boyfriend, and then I married him. We met in college and it’s not like dating is something you do in college, or at least I didn’t. Ryan and I just hung out together watching movies and having drinks at the bar with other friends. At some point, he started calling me his girlfriend and that was that. We married straight out of college and then he died when I was thirty-five. Going on your first date at the age of thirty-six is not fun, let me tell you. I’m awkward at the best of times. On a date, when I’m nervous, I’m a downright disaster. Speed dating can’t be any worse, I guess.
“Fine,” I groan. “When is it?”
“Tonight.” He mutters and then starts to back out of the room before turning tail and full-out running away.
“What?” I shout as I chase after him. I catch up to him and grab the flyer. He’s got some nerve. And then a brilliant idea hits me. I cross my arms and go on the attack. “If I have to go, then you’re going with me.”
Jack’s laughter immediately stops. It’s his turn to cross his arms. He looks down from his six feet three inches towering height and raises an eyebrow at me. “And, pray tell, who am I going to meet at this affair?” In case I miss his meaning, he adds a whole lot of diva to his voice.
“I don’t care,” I shrug. “But I’m not going alone and that’s final.”
“Fine,” Jack huffs and stalks off. “I’ll pick you up at six,” he yells through the screen door.
Three hours later I’ve managed to rid my chin of any hairy evidence and cleaned myself up reasonably well. Since I don’t usually wear make-up, I suck, like majorly, at putting it on, but the bags under my eyes aren’t going to disappear on their own. Puffy eyes are testimony of an afternoon spent staring at my computer screen working on Jack’s website. As a freelance graphic designer, I have to grab every assignment that I can. But even if I didn’t need to take every job that comes my way, this is Jack we’re talking about. I’d do anything for the man – even humiliate myself at a speed dating event – and he knows it.
I put down the eyeliner pencil and have a look at the results. For a middle-aged woman, I don’t look entirely unfortunate. Even though I work out like the devil possessed, I’m slightly overweight but at a height of five-eight, I can carry a bit of extra weight. Fortunately, for me, most of my weight falls into the tits and ass categories. My hair is curly, brown, and currently long. I hope my long eyelashes and sparkly green eyes distract from the wrinkles around my eyes.
The doorbell rings and halts my perusal of my looks. I grab my bag and jacket from the bed and head to the front door. Jack’s already standing inside. He only rang the doorbell to make sure I got a move on.
“Damn girl, you look hot!” He exclaims as I reach up on tippy toes to kiss his cheek.
“You know,” I say as we head out the door to Jack’s car. “If you just played for the other team, we could get together and wouldn’t have to do the stupid speed dating thing.”
Jack laughs as he opens his car door for me
. “We tried that, remember?”
Why does Jack have to remind me? At the start of high school, I forced Jack to take me to the homecoming dance. Even though he had yet to come out, he was already pretty comfortable with being gay, but I had convinced myself I was in love with my best friend. After the dance, I kissed him on the mouth. His reaction? He yelled “yuck!” and wiped his mouth. It took a month of schmoozing before I would talk to the handsome, gay guy again.
Intrigued? Click here to read the rest of Izzy’s story.
Never Trust a Skinny Cupcake Baker (Death by Cupcake Book 1) Page 14
