Sugar Cookie Slaughter Read online

  Sugar Cookie Slaughter

  Murder in the Mix 18

  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

  Chapter 19

  Sneak Peek

  A Note from the Author

  Books by Addison Moore

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2019 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.

  This eBook is for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this eBook with another person, please purchase any additional copies for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Copyright © 2019 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.

  Love is in the air, and all of Honey Hollow is staring down the barrel of Valentine’s Day. By some stroke of luck, I’m taking part in Vermont’s Best Baker competition, and believe me when I say there’s more drama than there are ingredients in the room. But when one baker accuses another of ripping off her sugar cookies, things take a turn for the deadly. Add a stalker, an ornery snake, and a fluffy white kitten who has an eye for everything that moves—and you have the perfect recipe for murder.

  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 about now, I’m not seeing a dead anything. I’m seeing a very angry Lily Swanson who nearly drops a platter of my heart-shaped sugar cookies all over the floor of the community center.

  “It’s not right.” She scoffs as she glares at Naomi Turner, who just so happens to be getting a little too friendly while dripping off of Alex Fox—ex-Marine turned two-timing love machine.

  I make a face at Naomi and Alex. It’s just the beginning of February, and even though love is in the air, Cupid and his stupid bow seems to be hitting it off the mark already.

  “Please ignore them, Lily,” I say, pulling her to the left so she doesn’t have to see their lust-stricken faces. Lily Swanson is a gorgeous brunette who works for me at my shop, the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery. “Besides, it’s Naomi’s turn to date Alex, not yours.” Yes, Naomi and Lily have both agreed to the ridiculous two-timing terms. Since Alex couldn’t decide between the two of them, they’ve been switching off with him every month and it’s been a disaster ever since.

  Naomi, the other girl in Alex Fox’s life, happens to be my best friend Keelie’s twin sister. Naomi used to hate me during high school because my then-boyfriend, Bear Fisher, wouldn’t cheat on me with her—yes, that’s right. And now she continues her disdain for yours truly almost a decade later just because she can. Naomi has dyed her blonde locks a jarring jet-black, and she’s a stunner through and through in that shocking pink dress she’s squeezed herself into tonight.

  Alex Fox is a looker himself—and I should very much think so, considering the fact I’m dating his older look-alike brother, Noah.

  Lily groans as we make our way to the extravagant dessert table set out in the middle of the cavernous room. It’s the evening of the ribbon cutting ceremony for the renovations taking place, right here at the community center. And seeing that this same establishment is set to host the Vermont’s Best Baker competition in just under a month, Mayor Nash thought it would be a fun idea for all the local bakers to come out and show the fine people of Honey Hollow what they’ve got to offer. Side note: Mayor Nash hired Bear Fisher, my aforementioned ex-high school not-so sweetheart, to do the renovation.

  I spot a couple of my fellow contestants, Whitney Shields and Patricia Engel, laughing it up with a man between them. His arms rest over each of their shoulders, and it looks as if they’re having a great time. It seems as if I’m the only baker truly stressed out about the competition.

  I wrinkle my nose as I give a glance around at the tired looking structure. “I hope Bear can whip this place into shape in time,” I say mostly to myself. My own shop, the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery, happens to have a hat in the ring as far as the baking competition is concerned.

  “Lottie Kenzie Lemon,” a familiar perky voice chirps from behind. “Oh ye of little faith.”

  I turn to find my best friend, Keelie Nell Turner, with her hands on her hips and a contrived pout on her lips just before she breaks out into a fit of giggles.

  “I won’t tell Bear you said so.” She pulls me in for a quick embrace and I’m momentarily smothered by her blonde curls. Keelie is now engaged to my cheating ex, and basically all of his malfeasances are water under the philandering bridge. Or at least they’d better be. Not only are Keelie and Bear getting hitched next June, they’re expecting a baby next August.

  I give her tiny baby bump a gentle pat. “How’s my niece or nephew?” Okay, it won’t technically be my niece or nephew—but along with the fact that Keelie is my lifelong bestie, we found a little over a year ago that we’re cousins, too.

  As an infant, I was abandoned at the local firehouse and then quickly adopted by Joseph and Miranda Lemon, but a year ago my birthmother, Carlotta, sprang out of the woodwork and right into my life. Apparently, before she abandoned me, she left a note pinned to the blanket I was swaddled up in and instructed whoever found me to please name me Carlotta. My new mother, Miranda, quickly complied but nicknamed me Lottie right away, and no one has ever called me by my formal name since.

  “My baby bear is doing great.” Keelie lands her palm lovingly over her tummy. “In fact, the little monster is craving one of your sweet treats.” She reaches over and snatches up an adorable heart-shaped cookie iced in pastel pink with the words you’re cute written on it. I can’t help but frown over at the platter of conversation heart cookies.

  Lily cackles at the innocent misstep. “That’s not Lottie’s cookie.”

  “Nope,” a deep voice strums from behind and I turn to find a handsome—okay, far too handsome ju
dge who looks as if he’s driven here straight from the Ashford Courthouse in his dressed-to-kill dark inky suit.

  The judge in question, Essex Everett Baxter, also happens to be my legal husband, but our union is for business purposes only. He basically needed a bride to help preserve his inheritance, and I quickly stepped up to the plate, much to my boyfriend Noah’s chagrin.

  Yes, that’s right. I have a boyfriend and a husband, and they’re not one and the same.

  Everett’s lids hood low. “I’d know your cookies anywhere, Lemon.” His lips curl in the right direction, but Everett is far too stubborn to ever give a proper smile.

  Lemon is the adorable pet name that Everett has had for me for as long as I can remember. And no matter how sour it might sound, I think it’s very sweet.

  “Get over here, Judge Baxter,” I tease as I pull him in for a quick embrace. I’ll admit, I steal an extra moment or two locked in his arms just to take in his thick, woodsy cologne. I pull back and get an eyeful of him.

  Essex Everett Baxter is a stunner by anyone’s definition, with his shock of black hair, those arresting cobalt blue eyes, and a face that looks as if it were chiseled by one of the masters. And don’t even get me started on that body. He’s slow to smile, quick to leer, and has a surplus of testosterone to outfit a small island nation of men. Every single place he goes, women risk life and limb just to get a better look at him. There is a very good reason the baristas the world over have dubbed him Mr. Sexy. Because it happens to be truth.

  Okay, so I might know a little too much about his anatomy, but only because while Noah and I were briefly disrupted in our relationship, Everett and I ended up together—in a very carnal sense.

  Noah and Everett were once stepbrothers, and, suffice it to say, they didn’t get along. So the fact I was with Everett at all dug open old wounds—wounds that in my opinion have never really healed.

  “You look amazing.” I shake my head as my eyes ride up and down over him in wonder. Honestly, I shouldn’t have said a thing about the way he looks—especially now that Noah and I are giving it another shot—but there’s just something exquisite about Everett tonight and I can’t quite pinpoint it. His tie flashes silver with a pink patina and his chest is as wide as a linebacker’s, but that’s not quite it either.

  Lily sighs by my side. “She’s right, Essex. You look mesmerizing. Now that you’re not with Lottie, and it’s not my month with Alex—I think you should be my Valentine.”

  “Oh, hush.” Keelie is quick to swat her old friend. “He still belongs to Lottie. Hands off.”

  My eyes are slow to meet with Everett’s, and I cringe.

  I clear my throat. “Everett is a free agent.” The words are slow to leave my lips, and I regret them as soon as they do.

  “Am I?” Everett’s chest rumbles with a laugh. “Lemon, the door to your bakery van is still open, and it’s snowing outside. Let me know what else you need, and I’ll bring it in for you.”

  “Now that’s sweet of you.” I bite down on my lower lip and feel my cheeks flush with heat. I’d feel bad for having such a strong biological response to Everett, but it’s the same biological response he incites in just about every woman—his mother and sister withstanding.

  Even though Everett’s first name is Essex, he’s always gone by Everett. The only women who call him by his formal moniker are women with whom he’s done the mattress mambo. I guess you could say they garner the privilege to use his first name as sort of a door prize—and there are enough women who have garnered the right to call him Essex to fill a football stadium.

  Before Everett and I were together, he was a rather prolific playboy. But since we’ve stalled our relationship—so that I can see where things might lead with Noah—Everett’s idea—he hasn’t restarted his playboy ways. And if I’m being honest, I’m not too sorry about it either. It feels selfish of me to say so, but I just can’t help it.

  Lily tightens her coat around her body. “I’ll go with you, Essex, and show you what we need.”

  And yes, Lily has definitely garnered the privilege to call him by his formal moniker.

  Everett leans in and dots my cheek with a quick kiss. “I’ll be back, Lemon.”

  The two of them take off, and Keelie is left fanning herself with her fingers as we watch them walk away.

  “Ooh wee!” She lets out a catcall in his wake, but thankfully there are so many bodies crammed into the community center no one seems to notice Bear’s future bride melting at the sight of the good judge. “Is it just me, or has that man turned up the heat?”

  “You’re not wrong.” I snatch the cookie from her hand and take an anxious bite out of it. “Hey? This really is good,” I say, looking down at the delectable delight. “But it’s not mine. It belongs to Whitney Shields. She’s the one that owns the Upper Crust Bake Shop in Fallbrook.”

  Whitney is a socialite who used to summer with Everett, and seeing that she calls him Essex, they did a little more than relax in the sun together.

  Keelie makes a face. “In that case, I’ll try to look miserable while eating them.”

  She glances toward the back of the community center, the same direction Lily and Everett went. I parked the van right next to the kitchen in an effort to traipse through as little snow as possible. It really is coming down out there.

  “I don’t know, Lot.” She shakes her head. “I wouldn’t trust Lily Swanson around my boyfriend if he looked like that. Especially since we both know they’ve been together—and I mean really together.”

  “I know, I know. But like I said, Everett is a free agent.” My heart wrenches again. “I can’t stop him from pursuing other avenues while Noah and I feel things out.”

  “Oh, I get it.” She tosses a hand in the air and groans as if arriving at some great epiphany. “It’s reverse psychology, Lottie. Of course, he wants you to feel things out with Noah. Once you realize how boring he is, once you compare what the two of them can do underneath the sheets, you’ll come to your senses and practically beg the good judge to take you in his chambers.”

  “Keelie.” I can’t help but let a husky laugh fly. “Would you stop? Everett is not being manipulative. He can’t help how handsome and desirable—okay, fine—and good beneath, over, under, and not anywhere near the sheets he is.” I squeeze my eyes shut tight. “And don’t you dare tell Noah I said so.”

  “Don’t tell Noah you said what?” Carlotta springs up before us like an unwanted apparition, and I press my hand to my chest with fright.

  Carlotta happens to share in my unusual gift to see the dead. We’re both transmundane, further classified as supersensual. For some reason or other, I’ve garnered the ability to see either the ghost of a human or an animal—usually the latter, and at some relatively short span of time after I spot them, something rather gruesome happens to their loved one or previous owner. When I was a kid, it used to amount to nothing more than a sprained knee for the unfortunate recipient, but as of this last year it almost certainly means death. And once the ghost helps me solve their loved one’s murder, they up and disappear right back to paradise. Apart from Carlotta, only Noah and Everett know of my morbid abilities.

  I make a face at Carlotta without meaning to, because she would definitely tell Noah anything I told her not to tell him. She’s not vindictive; she’s simply wired that wacky way.

  “Never you mind,” I say to my older look-alike. Carlotta and I share the same caramel waves and same hazel eyes. I know exactly what I’ll look like twenty years down the road if I eschew a good night’s sleep and hit the hard liquor every once in a while. “How did it go? Are you all moved in?”

  Noah, my handsome, studley, far too kind boyfriend, worked all day so he could help Carlotta move into the spare bedroom of my rental house. Now if that doesn’t spell l-o-v-e I don’t know what does.

  I’m glad to say Noah and I are back on track. We get along great. Heck, his golden retriever, Toby, gets along great with my cats. We’re practically one big h
appy family. It’s just that I’m not exactly sure who I should permanently be with when it comes down to Noah or Everett, and I’m utilizing this time with Noah to see if I can gain some clarity on that. You see, when Noah and I had an unexpected breakup, I accidentally fell into the arms of Everett—and Everett very much fell into my heart. It’s been complicated ever since.

  “You didn’t kill him, did you?” I can’t help but toss the question her way. Carlotta has been known to be a little rough around the edges, especially where living beings are involved. A thought hits me. “You didn’t kick Pancake or Waffles out in this weather, did you?”

  Pancake and Waffles are my sweet Himalayan cats. I had Pancake first, then later his brother Waffles was willed to me by my grandma Nell. They’re cream-colored balls of fluff with a rust-tipped tail and glowing icy blue eyes.

  “Would you relax?” Carlotta snatches up a conversation heart cookie and shoves it into my mouth. “Lighten up. Of course, I didn’t kill him. And your cats survived, too. I’ve still got a few boxes to move, but Harry said he’d help me out tomorrow.”

  Harry, aka Mayor Nash, was revealed to be my biological father less than a year ago, and I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact my biological mother and father are dating.

  “Great.” It comes out depleted and sarcastic, exactly the way I meant it to. The nice thing about Carlotta is that we never have to hide our true feelings from one another, and, oddly enough, feelings never get hurt in the process.