Publication Date: April 11, 2016
Print Length: 155 pages
A cozy mystery with a heap of laughs, a generous portion of romance, and just a smidgen of suspense.
Callie’s life is rather awesome. She owns a successful bakery and teaches German literature at the local university. There’s just one tiny problem. She has no self-confidence when it comes to her body. And then there’s the little matter of her being accused of murdering her pole dancing instructor. There’s no way Callie’s going to risk losing her teaching position and thus she embarks, with her best baker bud Anna, on a journey to discover the real killer. Between stripper auditions and a detective who insists Callie is the woman of his dreams, it’s a roller coast adventure. Cupcakes not included.
Excerpt from NEVER TRUST A SKINNY CUPCAKE MAKER
I’m really hoping that Anna changes her mind before closing time but no such luck. She doesn’t give me a chance to balk and rushes me out the back door pushing me towards the gym once the bakery is shut down. Just before we enter the gym, my phone vibrates in my pocket. It’s Ben wondering where I am. Shoot! He must be at the bakery to walk me to my apartment. I quickly type that I’m at the gym. There. That should satisfy him.
Anna and I walk into the gym, and she heads directly to the receptionist while I hang back. Access to the gym is via a gate for which you need a pass card. The receptionist sits at a curved desk next to the gate and can buzz people in if necessary. There’s a small seating area before the entry. I grab a magazine from the table and hide behind it while Anna talks to the receptionist.
After a few moments of speaking Anna shakes her head and swipes her card for access to the gym. What’s she doing? My phone rings. It’s Anna.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“She wouldn’t give me Dolly’s address. We need to create a diversion, and then you can snoop in her computer.”
“Me?” I shout and then remember I’m supposed to be incognito. “Why can’t you snoop?”
“Because you can’t make a scene when you’re not supposed to be here. Duh. Don’t swipe your card either. They probably make records of that.”
I start to protest but Anna’s already hung up. Typical. And then I hear her screaming. “Oh my God. Somebody help! I think this lady in the locker room is having a heart attack!” And then she’s next to the receptionist pulling her to the locker room. “You’ve got to help me!” They turn a corner, and Anna looks back at me and winks before pointing to the desk and mouthing, GO.
It looks like I don’t have a choice. This is beyond stupid. Not that that stops me or anything. I walk to the desk and try to reach the computer, but I’m too short. Bugger. What now? Thinking I can climb over the desk, I jump up. But I miscalculate and end up flying over the desk. Somehow I manage to not crack my skull and land on my butt. Thanking my lucky stars, I rub my sore bottom for a second before grabbing the keyboard and starting to search. There’s an icon on the home page titled ‘employee contact information’. I click on it and scroll through until I find Dolly’s information. I grab a sticky note and scribble down her address.
I need to get out of here. I shove the sticky note in my back pocket and put the keyboard back. I get to my knees and slowly peek out from behind the desk. Fiddlesticks! Ben is standing there with his arms crossed over his chest staring down at me. He shakes his head before reaching over and hauling me over the desk. He places me on my feet before asking, “Where’s Anna?”
“I think she’s in the locker room.”
“No doubt causing trouble.”
About D. E. Haggerty
I grew up reading everything I could get my hands on from my mom’s Harlequin romances to Nancy Drew to Little Women. When I wasn’t flipping pages in a library book, I was penning horrendous poems, writing songs no one should ever sing, or drafting stories which have thankfully been destroyed. College and a stint in the U.S. Army came along, robbing me of free time to write and read, although I did manage every once in a while to sneak a book into my rucksack between rolled up socks, MRIs, t-shirts, and cold weather gear. A few years into my legal career, I was exhausted, fed up, and just plain done. I quit my job and sat down to write a manuscript, which I promptly hid in the attic after returning to the law. Another job change, this time from lawyer to B&B owner and I was again fed up and ready to scream I quit, which is incredibly difficult when you own the business. Thus, I shut the B&B during the week and in the off-season and started writing. Several books later I find myself in Istanbul writing full-time.
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