CELTICLADY'S REVIEWS: BOOK BLAST - Never Trust a Skinny Cupcake Baker by D.E. Haggerty @denaehaggerty

Never Trust a Skinny Cupcake Baker (Death by Cupcake Book 1)

Cozy Mystery Self-Published Publication Date: April 11, 2016 Print Length: 155 pages ASIN: B01CNZ75DE

Synopsis

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.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

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.

Excerpt #1

“Why don’t you sit back down, Ms. Muller?” Detective Duchamp’s use of my last name concerns me. I sit back down and stare at him, hoping my elevated heart rate isn’t obvious. “Why did you rush off after class on Tuesday without showering?”

“I never shower at the gym.” I shiver. “I’m not comfortable with showering in front of other people.”

The detective sneers at that. “You better get used to it. No private showers in prison.”

I throw my hands in the air. “I know you’re trying to goad me into making some sort of confession or slip up or something, but I didn’t kill anyone. Why in the world would I kill Dolly? She’s not even a blip on my radar. I’m a successful business owner, I have a PhD, I teach at the University. Why would I risk all that for someone like her?” Unfortunately, my voice has turned condescending. Probably not the best attitude when accused of murder.

That’s when Duchamps pulls a card out of the file. It’s in a clear plastic bag, which I assume is an evidence bag, but it’s still obvious what the card is – a Callie’s Cakes postcard. The yellow and white striped postcards are free with a gift box. “I assume you know what this is.”

“Of course, I know what that is.” There’s no sense denying the truth even though I’m a bit apprehensive as to why they have a card from my bakery.

The detective pushes the card across the table, and I look down. “Sorry about your car, Callie.”

I push the card back and stare at the detective. “Seriously? This is your evidence?” The detectives look smug. I’m going to enjoy bringing them down a peg. “First of all, I can prove that I didn’t key her car.” I count off on my fingers. “And secondly, that’s not my handwriting. Not even close.”

I see a moment of doubt in Duchamps face before he recovers, and his face is once again a mask. He grabs the evidence bag and puts it back in the file. “We’ll see about that.” He stands. “In the meantime, you’ll be rotting away in jail.”

The door opens, and a man I don’t know enters. “Oh no, she won’t.” He turns to me and holds out his hand. “Dr. Muller, if you will.”

I will!

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