Flag Cake Felonies
MURDER IN THE MIX 23
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
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Recipe
Book Description
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Books by Addison Moore
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright © 2020 by Addison Moore
Edited by Paige Maroney Smith
Cover by Lou Harper, Cover Affairs
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 © 2020 by Addison Moore
Created with Vellum
Book Description
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.
It’s the Fourth of July and my friend Bizzy Baker and her family have come to Honey Hollow to celebrate. My mother is debuting her new romance novel, and there's a book signing at the lake. The authors are squabbling, Noah is brooding, Everett is determined to get me alone, and Carlotta is scheming to take over the world with her new friend Georgie Conner. I plan on showing Bizzy all the sites our cozy town has to offer, right up until a body is discovered. It's up to Bizzy and me to track down the killer before they strike again. Fireworks are going off in our world, and the ramifications will be explosive.
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, but a very much alive and sexy to the bone honorable judge whose official bench happens to reside in downtown Ashford County. Not that Everett, the sexy judge in question, lives in Ashford. Nope. Everett just so happens to conveniently live right next door to me right here in Honey Hollow, Vermont.
Everett is a tall stack of muscles with a shock of black hair and steely blue eyes that look as if he’s about to slice you in half with those lusty laser beams he sees the world through. He rarely smiles, is smarter than an entire library of books, and has the full attention of anyone with a functioning pair of ovaries.
“Lottie, you’re staring,” whispers Keelie, my very best friend in the world.
It’s the Fourth of July and I’ve spent all morning at my shop, the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery, whipping out one flag cake after another for today’s festivities down at Honey Lake.
But at the moment I’m not at the bakery. I’m standing at the reception counter of my mother’s happily haunted B&B because I just so happen to be expecting out-of-town guests at any minute, and Keelie has graciously—or perhaps not so graciously—offered to greet them with me. The B&B is an oversized white mansion with innumerous bedrooms and bathrooms. Once my father died, this place became my mother’s baby. It’s beautiful and cozy inside with its dark mahogany paneled walls and emerald carpet. I’m hoping my guests will think so, too.
My new friend, Bizzy Baker, and her crew are heading down to Honey Hollow this afternoon all the way from Cider Cove, Maine.
Keelie let me know, in not so many words, that she didn’t like how easily I took to Bizzy. I guess you could say she’s just a smidge jealous, but she doesn’t have to worry. Keelie’s best friend status is cemented for life.
A wicked laugh erupts from our left and we look over to find Carlotta Sawyer as she heads this way, a shifty look in her eye.
Carlotta is my biological mother who abandoned me on the floor of the Honey Hollow Fire Department well over two decades ago and has recently come into my life. This B&B isn’t hers. It belongs to Miranda Lemon, the woman who raised me and whom I still call Mom to this day. Miranda, Mom, is as spicy as she is sweet and has an affinity for wanting the best for me.
Carlotta, on the other hand, is ornery, and wily, and has an affinity for booze and men. We share the same caramel-colored hair and hazel eyes, but she has more gray strays in her mane these days than she does otherwise. She also has crow’s feet, marionette lines, and a cutting sense of humor—all of which serve as harbingers as to what the future might bring for me if I lean too heavily on impulsive day drinking.
“Guess what, Keels?” Carlotta elbows her niece. Yes, Keelie and I are cousins as well. “Lot came home from the bakery last night with her sweater inside out.”
“Lottie Lemon!” Keelie belts out a husky laugh and her belly shakes along with it. Keelie is tall, blonde, and her belly just so happens to be the size of a bona fide beach ball. Both she and my sister Lainey are about to pop out little ones next month, and I couldn’t be more elated and anxious to welcome two sweet little angels into this world just as soon as they want to get here. “Have you been getting naughty in the bakery?”
“What? No.” I steal a glimpse in the direction Everett went in. “And would you shush? He’s actually here at the B&B with his sister Meghan.” Not only will there be fireworks tonight at Honey Lake, but my mother and her wily publisher have arranged for a local authors signing to take place there this afternoon. “Apparently, Everett’s sister is a huge fan of Tallulah Velvet.” I wrinkle my nose because my black-haired, blue-eyed god is nowhere to be seen at the moment.
Carlotta huffs, “You might be foolin’ Keelie Nell because she’s got a mini monster eating away at her brain cells, but you’re not fooling me. You and that hottie naughty judge were heating things up in the bakery kitchen, weren’t you?”
“No, Carlotta, we were not.” My cheeks heat a thousand degrees just reliving the naughty scene. “I dragged him into the office instead.” There. I said it. “And Keelie, feel free to step on Carlotta’s toes for that comment regarding your brain cells. Everyone knows you’re a sharp cookie. You’ve managed the Honey Pot Diner for going on eight years now.”
Keelie sucks in a quick breath. “Don’t you try to throw smoke and mirrors in my direction, Lottie Lemon. Carlotta isn’t wrong about my brain cell depletion. Everyone knows losing brain cells is just a part of becoming a mother. You’re trying to skirt around the sexy issue at hand. You and Everett are doing the dirty! You’re back together, aren’t you?”
I bite down on my bottom lip as the lobby fills with bodies, and I quickly scan the cr
owd for signs of Bizzy and her friends, but I don’t see any.
“Okay, fine”—my shoulders bounce with excitement—“we’re back together.”
Both Carlotta and Keelie let out a whoop so loud and shrill you’d think I’d just won the lusty lottery. And in a way I did.
Keelie’s joy quickly morphs to something much more somber.
“Lottie”—she leans in—“did you really choose Everett over Noah?”
“No, no. I mean, yes.” My hands fly to my ears. “I mean, I was trying to make a decision between the two of them and Noah said to be with Everett. He wanted to return the favor that Everett gave him. Anyway, it’s confusing. Bottom line—I didn’t listen to Noah. I listened to my heart. Everett is the only man I should be with seeing that he’s my husband. I mean, sure, our marriage was simply a business transaction so he could keep his inheritance, but somehow it still makes sense.” A visual of the two of us entwined in one another’s arms flits through my mind. “It’s the right move. He’s the right move.” I grow weak in the knees. “And his night moves aren’t so bad either.”
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 t
he 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, looks 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.
Flag Cake Felonies (MURDER IN THE MIX Book 23) Page 1