Murder in the Mix Boxed Set 8

by Addison Moore

  Carlotta twists her lips. “So, are you simply making a pit stop with Mister Sexy while you make up your mind between the two of them?”

  “No,” I give a weak protest. “I mean, I don’t know. I don’t think so. All I know is, I’m really, really happy.” A spear of heat bisects my stomach and assures me of this.

  My mother, Miranda Lemon, the mother who raised me, runs up.

  “Girls!” she trills as she reaches for a tote bag on the floor next to her. “Can you believe the turnout? I just knew when I gave my rights away to Wiley Rose Publishing, Wiley Fox would do right by me.”

  “Gave your rights away?” Keelie makes a face. “You mean your book rights.”

  “She means her rights,” I correct. After my father died, my mother’s track record with men was all losers and boozers, and unfortunately for her, Wiley falls into both of those inglorious categories.

  “Girls, please.” Mom waves me off. “He said he was going to turn me into a star. And now look at all of these women just fighting to get into the conservatory for the authors’ mingle. This is just a taste of what they’ll be getting at Honey Lake in just a few hours. The man is pure brilliance, I tell you.”

  Miranda Lemon is a creamy-haired blonde whose tresses touch her shoulders, there’s a touch of mischief to her in general—a side she’s wildly explored since my father died—and as of late, she’s tried her hand at spinning a naughty yarn.

  Her romance novel, Reckless Fear, just hit shelves last week, and in honor of her book, Wiley Rose Publishing is hosting an author signing at the lake today. Wiley, as in Wiley Fox, my mother’s latest, not greatest, acquisition in the boyfriend department, is Noah Fox’s father. Noah and I dated, and well, things never seemed to work out for us. Technically, he’s still my boyfriend. I think. Oh heck, I don’t know what to think about Noah anymore, and it just breaks my heart. Anyway, his father is a rat who faked his own death and makes a regular sport of stealing off with the fortunes of unsuspecting widows. But now he’s back from the dead and ready and willing to bilk my mother, who has unwisely signed the rights of her book away to the devil himself.

  I’m about to say something snippy about the fact Wiley has suckered an entire glut of unsuspecting women into his latest scheme when a tall redhead with long, wavy hair, eyes the color of dark coffee, and lips painted a shocking shade of fuchsia steps up to the counter.

  “Ambrosia!” my mother practically shrieks out the woman’s name. “Oh my God, it’s really you!” Mom wastes no time physically accosting the woman. “Ambrosia, this is my daughter Lottie, her other mother Carlotta, and her dear friend Keelie. Thank you so much for coming out today. I have your room all ready for you. And once we’re done with the signing down at the lake, we can get right to discussing co-authoring that book together.”

  “Co-what?” The woman looks slightly stunned by my mother’s rather aggressive announcement.

  A rail-thin blonde with an easy smile pops up in our midst and gives a little wave.

  “Jessie Lane here,” she snips. “I’m the coordinator for most of the author events in Vermont. Wiley enlisted me to help out.” She lifts her brows. “Who do I see about moving the boxes full of books to the lake?”

  There’s a serious demeanor about her, but I suppose if she’s got an entire legion of authors to wrangle, she’d have to have several serious bones in her body.

  Mom raises a hand. “That would be my boyfriend, Wiley. He’s the genius that put this whole thing together. Who knew there were so many hungry romance fans in Vermont?”

  “Me!” A bright clap of light ignites as the ghost of Greer Giles appears among us. Greer is a girl in her twenties, or rather was in her twenties when she was murdered last year. She’s been camping out at the B&B with a ghostly boyfriend of her own and the little girl—ghoul—they adopted. “Oh, Lottie, I’ve read every single one of Ambrosia Whispers’ books. I can’t believe she’s staying right here at the inn where I’ll get to personally haunt her. Oh, the scares I have planned for that woman. She won’t soon forget me. In fact, I bet I’ll end up in one of her books!”

  My mother, the redheaded Ambrosia, and thin blonde Jessie all head off for the conservatory as Greer floats alongside them.

  The crowd parts and up steps another handsome man with a dark head of hair with just a touch of copper in it, verdant green eyes that look as if they’re holding all the grief in the world locked in them, and an adorable set of dimples that dip in and out regardless of whether or not their owner is harboring a smile.

  “Lottie.”

  “Noah.” And just like that, the high I’ve been on for the past few days blows apart and I’m sent hurtling right back to Earth.

  Noah Corbin Fox and I dated off and on for almost two years now. We were going hot and heavy right up until that wife he forgot to mention showed up. It was all a big mess. Noah never meant to hurt me. They were all but divorced. And that’s when his old stepbrother Everett stepped up to the heart-shaped plate and I dated him for a brief moment in time—and now once again.

  It’s been drama city ever since, and last we left it, Noah suggested I give this thing with Everett another whirl. And I can see it in his eyes that he deeply regrets it. But we both know it was inevitable. Everett himself was the one who told me to go back to Noah way back when and finish off what we started, and maybe have our happily ever after, but my feelings for Everett never waned. And either in a fit of machismo, keeping up with the testosterone-laden Joneses, or whatever you want to call it, Noah reversed the tables. But in the end, it was my heart that made the decision. After all, Everett is my husband. I sigh just thinking about that matrimonial fact.

  “What are you doing here?” I make my way around the counter and pull him in for a warm embrace. It’s not that I’ve been avoiding Noah ever since I made the decision to fully give my relationship with Everett another go. It’s just that—well, okay, fine. I’ve been avoiding Noah.

  He takes a deep breath and his blazer pulls back enough for me to see the leather strap of his gun holster. Noah is the lead homicide detective down at the Ashford County Sheriff’s Department, and seeing that I’ve become embroiled in more than my fair share of homicides, we’ve worked closely together—both in and out of the bedroom.

  “My mother.” He shrugs as he warms my back with his hands. “She’s a big fan of some author who’s here. Ambrosia something or other.”

  Carlotta sucks in a violent breath. “Ambrosia Whispers? You just missed her. Who knew good old Suze was a closet romance junkie? Well, there you have it. Even a battle-ax like that needs to take the edge off once in a while.”

  Carlotta’s not wrong about the battle-ax part. Suzanna Fox is a peach, or a pill— take your pick, but she’s most likely both.

  Noah tips his head back as his hold on me stiffens, and I turn and follow his gaze until I’m looking right into a pair of cobalt eyes that have the power to make me jump out of my skin at the sight of them—in the very best way. Suffice it to say, making women jump out of their skin has been their specialty since about the time he hit puberty.

  “Everett!” I squeak, evicting myself from Noah’s embrace as I do an odd little hop.

  His lips twitch with satisfaction, and for reasons unknown, it’s taking far more control than I have not to give that dark scruff on his cheeks a quick scratch.

  “Lemon.” He wraps his arms around me and lands a smooth kiss to my lips right here in the open, and as much as a tiny part of me demands to protest, the rest of me breathes a sigh of relief. Everett has only ever called me by my surname, and I’ve secretly relished it each and every time.

  Everett takes a quick step away, and soon Evie, Everly—the daughter Everett had with a socialite who quickly became his most ardent stalker—steps up.

  “Hey, Mom!” She gives me a quick embrace. Evie is the spitting image of her daddy with long flowing raven black hair, daring blue eyes, and a devilish gleam that certainly means trouble. She’s drop-dead gorgeous, lo
oks all of twenty-one, but is merely fifteen. She’s already giving her daddy and me reasons to sponsor an ulcer, what with her two boyfriends, not to mention her penchant for running from teen party to teen party no matter how much we forbid it.

  Evie is a bit of a wild child, and I blame the fact her biological mother, Cressida Bentley, kept her hidden from the world—more specifically from Everett—at some snooty boarding school up until a couple of months ago. But now, Everett has full custody, I’ve stepped in as her mother, and Everett and I are working as a unified front to undo the damage Cressida caused.

  Evie touches her fingers to her lips once she spots the depressed detective behind me.

  “Oh, Uncle Noah, I’m so sorry you have to see this.” She gives her father the side-eye as if she means it. And if she does mean to disparage Everett for his public display of affection, it would be odd considering the fact Evie was heavily campaigning to get us back to together. “But don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll meet a nice young lady anxious to start a family with you asap. The entire conservatory is teeming with women hopped up on enough hormones to bring on a baby explosion that will make the boomers look like the DNA crumbs left over from humanity’s sandwich.” She links her arm to mine. Evie is just a smidge taller than me and it’s unnerving to look up at that girl I’m ready to reprimand. “Mom and Dad are working to give me a little brother or sister. Personally, I’m rooting for one of each. Do twins run in our family?” She blinks those long lashes at me, and before either Everett or I can dispel any baby rumors, an all too familiar face appears in the crowd.

  “Bizzy Baker!” I cry out and lunge at my dear friend.

  A few months back, Everett, Noah, Carlotta, and I went to Cider Cove for a little R&R and got waylaid with a murder investigation while we were there. It turns out, not only is Bizzy an amateur sleuth just like me, but she’s also transmundane—just like me as well.

  It’s true. Both Bizzy and I harbor a supernatural quirk that can’t be denied. I happen to be further classified as supersensual, meaning I can see the dead. And Bizzy is further classified as telesensual, meaning she can read minds.

  Believe me, it makes me edgy to know that every last errant thought I’m having is suspect to Bizzy’s busy mind, but I know that she can’t help prying into my thoughts no more than I can help seeing the ghosts of the dearly departed. But I don’t just see any willy-nilly ghost. Aside from the crew that haunts my mother’s B&B, I rarely see any, unless, of course, there’s murder afoot. It used to be that seeing one of those fantastic phantasms meant that the person they came back to visit was merely going to have a very bad day, but as of late, it almost certainly means a homicide is on its way. Typically, I see dearly beloved pets that have returned from the other side of the rainbow divide, but I see once-upon-a-humans now and again, too. Best of all, my grandma Nell and my adoptive father Joseph Lemon have paid me a few heartfelt visits. I’ve never been so happy to be supernaturally cursed or blessed—take your pick—than I have been when I’ve seen their beautiful ghostly faces.

  Bizzy pulls back with a laugh caught in her mouth. “Lottie Lemon! I can’t believe we’re back in the same state, yours this time.” Bizzy has long dark hair and icy blue eyes. She looks as if she could be Evie’s mother far more than I could, but at the moment, Bizzy is engaged to a hunky homicide detective from Maine, Jasper Wilder, and they’ve yet to procreate.

  A sharp bark comes from our right and I look down to see a medium-sized dog, white with red freckles strewn all over him, and I can’t help but laugh.

  “Sherlock Bones!” His name bursts from me with marked enthusiasm. Alongside him, I spot Jasper Wilder with his dark hair and silver eyes.

  Next to him stand two women. The older one is wearing a red, white, and blue kaftan while holding a black and white tabby. That would be Georgie Conner, the quirky artist that lives at the Country Cottage Inn that Bizzy manages, and the sweet cat is Fish, Bizzy’s fur baby.

  The younger one is about my age or a little older, early thirties perhaps, with a blonde bob and a mischievous smile budding on her lips, and that would be Macy Baker, Bizzy’s older much more lust-driven sister who has already made it clear she’s coming to Honey Hollow in hopes to find herself a man. She’s specifically pinned Noah’s look-alike brother Alex as her primary target. She let me know as much when we left Cider Cove a few months back.

  “Georgie! Macy! Fish!” I howl as the entire lot of us breaks into one big group hug. “Jasper.” I laugh as I see him buddying up to both Noah and Everett. “Welcome to my mother’s B&B!”

  Evie wastes no time in taking both Sherlock and Fish from them and heads for the courtyard, while Georgie gifts Carlotta a matching red, white, and blue kaftan and they get right to scheming.

  Georgie has a wild mane of scraggly gray hair, a bright red painted smile, and a dangerous twinkle in her lavender eyes.

  She leans toward my wily bio mother. “I hear my favorite romance author, Ambrosia Whispers, is staying right here at this haunted B&B with me! First ghosts, and now the very presence of the woman who pens stories with more spice than nice? Life cannot get better, Carlotta. You might just regret inviting me to your neck of Vermont. I may never leave.”

  The two of them head for the conservatory where a gaggle of bodies swarm in hopes to catch a glimpse of the writers that have congregated in there.

  Everett, Noah, and Jasper have huddled together and seem to be carrying on a lively conversation that’s peppered with intermittent bursts of laughter and, believe me, it lifts my spirits to hear Noah laugh. The last thing I wanted to do was crush him.

  “Come here, you two.” I pull both Bizzy and her sister Macy to the reception counter with me as we face my not-so-amused best friend. “Keelie, this is Bizzy and Macy Baker. They’re spending the next two weeks right here in Honey Hollow.”

  Keelie glowers at the two women before her.

  “Hello, ladies.” She forces a tight smile. “Bizzy”—she wastes no time to needle her with jealousy—“Lottie has told me all about the fact the two of you are fast friends. I bet you didn’t know that Lottie and Everett have gotten back together now, did you?” She sheds a smug smile. “No, I didn’t think so. Why, you might ask? Because it’s information only a true best friend would be privy to.” She waddles from behind the counter. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I hear there’s a group of romance authors congregating in the conservatory who can give me a pointer or two on how to navigate the last sexy mile of this nine-month fiasco.” Keelie takes off and Macy grips me by the arm.

  “Tell me now if Noah Fox is single and ready to mingle.”

  No, not Noah!

  I cringe because I happen to know Bizzy was privy to that intimate musing.

  Bizzy gently removes Macy’s death grip from my arm. “Down, girl. Noah Fox is still very much off-limits. You’re here for his brother, remember?”

  I shrug over at Macy. “The good news is, you’ll get to meet him in just a couple hours down at Honey Lake.”

  Macy hops on her toes before declaring she needs to retouch, recolor, and redress as she takes the key to her room and zooms up the stairs.

  “Bizzy”—I say as I pull her in close by the arm—“I have so much to tell you.”

  “I’ll say. So you’re happy with Everett?”

  “More than happy.” A swirl of heat dances through me as the words leave my lips. “You know we’re married and we need to be until at least December, even though it was more or less a business arrangement so he could get the rest of his inheritance. And we share Evie. Everett and I just seem to make a lot of sense.” A part of me wanted to tack on the words right now because my heart still has very real feelings for Noah, but I resist the urge.

  The sound of animalistic grunting comes from somewhere near our feet, and I look down to see the cutest little baby piglet I’ve ever seen in my life.

  “You have got to be kidding me.” I bend over and give the sweet little thing a scratch on her forehead. “My moth
er is going to scream if she sees you in here.” I straighten to look at Bizzy. “I’m telling you just about everyone has come out to see these authors—and their cute pudgy piggies, too.”

  Dear God, no.

  Bizzy’s eyes grow large. “Lottie, I don’t see any cute pudgy piggies.”

  I suck in a quick breath. “You mean?”

  She gives a single nod. “You might just be seeing a precursor to murder.”

  Chapter 2

  Honey Lake gleams like the cerulean jewel it is on this toasty Fourth of July. It’s late afternoon, and I’ve just finished putting out over a dozen flag cakes underneath the dessert tent for the entire town of Honey Hollow to enjoy.

  An entire gaggle of local authors stand under a tent dedicated for their signing as they zip around, making last-minute adjustments to their display tables. I spot Ambrosia Whispers with her red gleaming hair, along with a woman dressed in a red sequin dress that hugs her every curve. The woman has blue streaks in her hair and large rhinestone earrings that glisten in the sun like floodlights. She and Ambrosia seem to be having a rather heated conversation at the moment.

  But before I can process another thought, Everett steals me away and ducks us behind my bakery van that sits next to the tent in question.

  Everett wraps his strong arms around me and bears into me with those cobalt blue flames that have me melting like candle wax. There is a very real reason baristas the world over have uniformly written the words Mr. Sexy on his coffee cups. He’s just that, Mr. Sexy. Before Everett and I met, and perhaps right in the very beginning, Everett was a world-class womanizer. In fact, he’s bedded so many women it’s a shocker he doesn’t have more surprise children crawling out of the woodwork.

  He leans in. “I’ve been waiting all day to give you something.”

  I bite down on a playful smile. “If it’s a kiss, you’ve already gifted me one back at the B&B.”