Christmas Fudge Fatality
Murder in the Mix
Addison Moore
Contents
Book Description
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Recipe
Preview: Cutie Pies and Deadly Lies
Preview: New Series
Preview: Murder Bites (Country Cottage Mysteries 5)
Preview: Meow for Murder
Books by Addison Moore
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright © 2019 by Addison Moore
Edited by Paige Maroney Smith
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.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Copyright © 2019 by Addison Moore
Created with Vellum
Book Description
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My name is Lottie Lemon, and I see dead people. Okay, so I rarely see dead people. Mostly I see furry creatures of the dearly departed variety, aka dead pets, who have come back from the other side to warn me of their previous owner’s impending doom.
The holidays have arrived, and the Jolly Holly Tree Lot is hosting a special event that has pets and people alike bustling to get a picture with the jolly old elf himself. My sweet cats are just as anxious as I am to get to the front of the line, but that body I stumble upon threatens to take the joy right out of the season.
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
My name is Lottie Lemon, and I see dead people. Okay, so rarely do I see dead people. Mostly I see furry creatures of the dearly departed variety, aka dead pets, who have come back from the other side to warn me of their previous owner’s impending doom. But right now I’m not seeing a dead anything. In fact, the entire Jolly Holly Tree Lot is brimming with people and pets alike, anxious to get a picture with the jolly old elf himself.
It’s just the beginning of December, and already we’ve had our fair share of snow flurries. All of Honey Hollow is covered in thick vats of downy soft powder—heck, all of Vermont is a virtual winter wonderland.
“Lottie, let me hold one of them,” Everett, my good friend, offers as he takes one of my sweet cats from me.
“Oh, wait. Take Waffles instead,” I say as I quickly do a switcheroo with him. “Pancake likes to cling to me a bit more whenever we leave the house.” Both Pancake and Waffles are off-white fuzzy Himalayan cats with gorgeous silver-blue eyes and rust-tipped tails—and best of all, they also happen to be brothers.
The thick scent of familiar cologne permeates the area, and before I know it, Detective Noah Fox is standing next to me shedding that dimple-laden smile.
“Noah!” I offer up a spontaneous hug. “Glad you could make it.”
“Not a problem.” He pulls back and scowls over at Everett. “Judge Baxter.”
It’s true. Everett Essex Baxter is indeed a judge down at the Ashford County Courthouse. And even though Noah and Everett are both on the right side of the law, they don’t seem to get along all that great. About a million years ago, when they were in high school, Noah’s father was married to Everett’s mother and quickly hightailed it out of town with as much of her money that he could get his paws on. But when you get down to brass tacks, that didn’t affect their friendship as much as the fact that Noah saw fit to swipe Everett’s girlfriend away from him at the time. And now, I seem to be the next girlfriend hurdle in their path. Both Everett and Noah have made their feelings clear for me. They’re both interested in me, and sadly, I’m interested in both of them. I know—I know. It sounds terribly wrong. That’s because it is. I need to pick a lane. But I don’t know which lane I prefer just yet.
Everett offers a mock bow. “Noah, I see you’re still stalking Lemon proficiently.”
Lemon isn’t just my surname. It’s the cute moniker Everett insists on tagging me with, and I don’t mind a bit.
I can’t help but roll my eyes at his statement, though. “Nobody is stalking me. I invited you both out here. I thought it would be fun.” I give Everett’s shoulders a playful bump with my own. “I mean, look at the bustling crowd of people all giddy to be here, bundled in their winter coats and sipping hot cocoa. Not to mention the size of that line to sit on Santa’s lap.”
Everett grunts, “I’ve got a red suit at home. If we hightail it off to my place, you could be on my lap before you know it.”
I can’t help but chuckle at the bawdy proposal. However, Noah gives an audible groan at the idea.
“Hand Waffles over.” Noah gingerly takes Waffles from him and the cute kitty nuzzles right up against Noah’s shoulder. “See there?” He sways as if he were rocking a baby. “He likes me better.”
Everett’s lips twitch, but he’s too stubborn to give a smile. “The boys have always liked you better.”
“All right,” I say. “Enough, you two. Let’s get in line before all of Honey Hollow shows up.” And we do just that. Although, it doesn’t feel as if we moved all that far from the parking lot—the line is just that long.
The snow is lightly dusting the ground, and the Jolly Holly Tree Lot is nearly filled to capacity with people bundled in their winter parkas. There’s a giant red banner strewn across the opening of the circus-like tent that reads Take a picture with Santa! All pets and people welcome!
And you can bet your bottom dollar that the fine people of Honey Hollow have taken this to heart. There are just as many tiny tots present tonight as there are fur babies. And among the animals, there seems to be an even split between cats and dogs. I’m pretty sure I even see a ferret in someone’s arms up ahead.
I’m not entirely certain if owning a ferret is legal in Vermont, but it’s Christmastime and I don’t care about anything else but this glorious holiday season.
You might say that things are finally going right for me. My bakery is taking off like never before with as many holiday orders that I can handle, and my love life is starting to take shape, too. I’ll admit, it’s not such a bad thing to have two handsome men warring for my affection.
I’ve known both Noah and Everett for some time now, and I’ve grown close to both of them.
Noah is a sweet, albeit aggressively handsome, homicide detective with dark hair that turns red in the sun and deep-welled dimples—not to mention he seems to have the ability to make me laugh whenever he’s around.
Everett is smolderingly sexy—almost unfairly so with that jet-black hair and stunning cobalt blue eyes. In fact, he’s been dubbed Mr. Sexy by the baristas the world over. It’s sort of a play on his formal first moniker, Essex. But for whatever reason, he prefers people call him by his middle name, Everett. The only people who seem to freely ca
ll him Essex are the multitude of women that he’s done the mattress mambo with. I guess you could say they acquire his first name as sort of a door prize.
Regardless, both men have the ability to cause any woman with a pulse to crane their necks in their direction. Suffice it to say, we’re causing quite the scene at the moment with the female population without even trying.
“Lottie!” a female voice calls out from my left and I turn to see Tamara Gray, a petite brunette about my age, waving from the makeshift concession stand. “Your chocolate fudge is to die for!” She holds up a small bag of my delectable delights.
The Jolly Holly Tree Lot asked my bakery, the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery, to stock their concession stand and I was quick to fill the order.
“Glad you like it! I added extra walnuts to this batch!” I give a friendly wave back just as she stumbles upon a group of friends.
“Poor thing,” I whisper to Everett and Noah as we scoot up in line a smidge. “She and Scott are in the middle of a messy divorce that seems to be dragging on forever. It’s been just under a year now, and he’s already moved on. I guess it’s a good thing they never had children.”
Everett shakes his head. “The reason the divorce is taking so long is they’re duking it out in court over their shared properties. I saw them there again just last week.”
Noah takes a breath and Pancake gives a lazy yowl. “Don’t they own that place at the edge of town?”
“That’s right,” I say as we scuttle up another notch. “The Grays have a booming produce farm that spans acres. It’s a popular tourist destination in the fall. Too bad their marriage wasn’t as successful as their business.”
Noah takes a breath. “Rumor has it, Scott was cheating all along with his ranch manager, Stacy Culberson.”
I wince as I lean in. “I know Stacy. She’s good friends with my sister, Lainey. They went to college together. And you know what? I’ve always liked Stacy. She can be a bit abrasive, but she’s the one that usually comes into the bakery to pick things up for the workers at the farm and she’s always super nice to me.”
Everett’s chest expands. “Isn’t that her over there?”
“Where?” I squint in the direction he pointed to and suck in a quick breath as soon as I spot the feisty redhead with her pale complexion and stunning long lashes. Stacy has always been a beauty. I’ll never understand why she felt the need to move in on someone else’s husband. She could have had anyone she wanted. “My goodness, that is her!” Just past her stands a tall, stalky gentleman with some gray around the temples and a friendly open face. “And that’s Scott checking out the flocked trees. I bet they’re here together. Poor Tamara has to see them here, shopping for Christmas trees of all things. I can’t imagine how hard this must be for her—especially this time of year.”
An all too familiar girl with caramel-colored wavy hair and light hazel eyes steps over to Stacy, and soon they’re laughing it up over who knows what.
“Speaking of my sister,” I say as I wave over to her, and she waves back while quickly returning to the conversation at hand with Stacy.
Lainey is the head librarian at the Honey Hollow Public Library. She’s older than me by one year, and we happen to share the same caramel hair and light eyes—so much so that I had hoped my parents had the details of my adoption wrong. Apparently, I was discovered, all by my lonesome, as an infant swaddled up in a blanket on the floor of the fire department. The firefighter who found me, Joseph Lemon, said he never could let me go. And soon thereafter, Joseph and Miranda Lemon officially adopted me.
A year later, they had my younger sister, Meg, who used to be a star attraction on the Las Vegas female wrestling circuit. Meg has since moved back to town and has no problem shaking things up in Honey Hollow with her larger-than-life personality.
My father sadly passed away when I was in my teens. And seeing that I’m in my late twenties, that seems like a million years ago. But I’ll never forget him or the kind heart he freely shared with everybody. My own heart still aches for him each and every day.
Pancake rouses to life and belts out an ear-piercing meow as he gives a quick look around with those icy blue eyes.
“Whoa.” Everett gives him a quick scratch on the head. “What’s got you so stirred up, big guy? Did you see a ghost?” Everett winks my way. Both Everett and Noah are apprised of my transmundane status, further classified as supersensual. It’s true. I can see the dead. Mostly pets that have come back. But as fate or the universe would have it, it’s usually just when something horrific is about to happen to their previous owner. Outside of the disembodied visitors I’ve had over the last few months, the only other ghosts I see happen to be at my mother’s bed and breakfast.
Noah shakes his head. “Ignore him, Pancake. There are no ghosts around.” He looks over at his old stepbrother and frowns. “Are you trying to jinx this night? You know what happens when Lottie sees one of those things.”
Everett grunts, “Yeah—you get to work. If I were you, I’d start to worry about what people think about your constant proximity to the number of homicides you’re in charge of. You’re not drumming up business, are you?”
Everett is teasing, but I can’t help but hush him. It’s true. I’ve stumbled upon my fair share of bodies this last year, and each time it was Noah who was the lead investigator in the case.
I’m about to reprimand them both for bringing up such grisly things when an adorable black and white French bulldog trots up and nuzzles around my ankles.
“Well, if you aren’t as adorable as a red ribbon on a wreath!” I bend over and give him a scratch between his cute pointed ears. There’s a brass nametag in the shape of a bone dangling from a collar around his neck and I flip it over. “Noel,” I read. “What a pretty name you have. Hey, I bet your owner is worried sick about you.”
The tiny pooch cocks his head up at me adorably. “No, I can assure you they aren’t,” the sweet dog bellows it out in a deep baritone just as he up and disappears right before my eyes.
“Oh my goodness.” I bolt upright and freeze.
Noah lets out a quick breath. “You saw another one, didn’t you, Lottie?”
“I did,” I whisper, still afraid to move a muscle.
Noah shakes his head at Everett. “I knew you’d jinx it.”
“I didn’t jinx anything. You’re the unlucky charm around here.” Everett leans in and catches my gaze. “Do you know what this means, Lemon?”
I gulp hard and nod. “Murder is imminent.”
Chapter 2
They say some people can sense things before they happen. They claim to get a niggling feeling, they smell something, or they get a vision before disaster strikes.
Not me. I am always freshly surprised when a supernatural entity decides to pop in for an impromptu visit from the other side. And Lord knows I am never adequately prepared for the homicidal aftermath. A long time ago, when I first started seeing these velum-like apparitions floating nearby, it always meant something with far less mortal consequences like a skinned knee or a bruised shin. But as of late, it almost always means murder is afoot.
Confession: I haven’t always been able to hear the dead. In fact, up until last year the dead weren’t able to do much of anything. But as my powers grew, so did their abilities. At first, they were able to move objects in the material world—a potential disaster of supernatural proportions. But, as of a couple of months ago, they’ve garnered the ability to talk as well. I’ll admit, it’s a bit unnerving listening to an animal speak to me in perfect English, but it’s something I’ve slowly grown accustomed to—so much so that I wish my sweet cats had harnessed the same strange ability.
Noah pulls out his phone and begins texting away.
“What are you doing?” I hike up on my tiptoes as a mild sense of panic strikes me.
“Just a little preemptive action.” He flashes his screen at Everett and me. “I let Ivy know she should probably head over to the tree lot. Don’t worry. I w
as ambiguous as to why.”
“Nice,” I quip. “I’m sure she’ll think you invited her over for a hot date.” I couldn’t help it. Detective Ivy Fairbanks is a leggy redhead who is as keen a homicide detective as she is gorgeous. And a part of me very much believes she has a thing for her handsome co-worker.
Everett chuckles as he bumps his elbow to mine. “Something tells me he’ll be using poor Waffles as a chick magnet, too.”
Noah offers a sideways glance to Everett. “I would never do that.” He drops a quick kiss to Waffles’ forehead. “Lottie, we need reinforcements. I’m going to call for backup, just a few cruisers to keep an eye on the periphery. It’s not an unusual request at this time of year. I promise, no one will think twice about it.”
I’m about to protest, or agree, or most likely both, when I spot Lainey and Stacy heading over to Tamara and her friends, and I watch as Tamara’s eyes widen with horror.
“Ooh, maybe I’d better get over there. I’d hate for Lainey to put herself in the middle of something without realizing it.”
Everett wraps an arm around my shoulder. “I’m not leaving your side, Lemon.”
“That’s fine.” I’ll be the last person to turn down the studly judge as a personal bodyguard. “Noah? Will you hold my place in line? I won’t be gone long.”
Everett blinks a smile over at him. “Yes, Noah. Hold our place in line while we go off and have a good time.”
I try to swat Everett, but he takes up my hand instead and kisses the back of it as we trek through the snow and make our way to where Lainey stands with a group of rather unhappy looking ladies.
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