Hot Fudge Frame-Up by Christine DeSmet (English) Paperback Book

Description: Hot Fudge Frame-Up by Christine DeSmet Candy shop owner Ava Oosterling mixes it up with a fudge judge with a grudge-who loses his life before he can pick a winner....Ava is gearing up for the First Annual Arts Festival-a huge celebration that could draw national attention to her old-fashioned fudge shop in Door County, Wisconsin. Shes invited two celebrity chefs to go head-to-head with her in a fudge contest. Everyone is having a tasty time...until a judge for the festival is found dead.To her shock, hed been complaining around town that her Fairy Tale fudge flavors were...well, fudged. Now the sheriff is wondering if Ava fits the mold for a murder suspect. As Ava tries to square her reputation and find the real killer, shes in for a whole batch of trouble....Includes Delicious Recipes and Fudge-Making Tips! FORMAT Paperback LANGUAGE English CONDITION Brand New Author Biography Christine DeSmet is the author of First-Degree Fudge, and a winner of the Romance Writers of America Golden Heart as well as a three-time finalist. She is also a winner of the Slamdance Film Festival writing contest. A member of Sisters in Crime, Mystery Writers of America, and Romance Writers of America, Christine teaches fiction and screenwriting at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. Review PRAISE FOR FIRST-DEGREE FUDGE "An action-filled story with a likable heroine and a fun setting. And, oh, that fudge! Im swooning. I hope Ava Oosterling and her family and friends take me back to Door County, Wisconsin, for another nibble soon."—JoAnna Carl, national bestselling author of the Chocoholic Mysteries "Christine DeSmet has whipped up a melt-in-your-mouth gem of a tale. One is definitely not going to be enough!"—Hannah Reed, national bestselling author of Beewitched "The first in a new series set in the Cape Cod of the Midwest, First-Degree Fudge is a lighthearted confection that cozy mystery readers will devour."—Lucy Burdette, author of Murder with Ganache "As palatable as a fresh pan of Belgian fudge, this debut will delight candy aficionados and mystery lovers with its fast pace, quirky cast, and twist after twist. A must read!"—Liz Mugavero, author of A Biscuit, a Casket "Interesting characters enhance this mystery…plenty of romantic tension. The mystery evolves nicely with a few good twists and turns that lead to a surprising villain."—RT Book Reviews (4 stars) Review Quote PRAISE FOR FIRST-DEGREE FUDGE "An action-filled story with a likable heroine and a fun setting. And, oh, that fudge! Im swooning. I hope Ava Oosterling and her family and friends take me back to Door County, Wisconsin, for another nibble soon."-JoAnna Carl, national bestselling author of the Chocoholic Mysteries "Christine DeSmet has whipped up a melt-in-your-mouth gem of a tale. One is definitely not going to be enough!"-Hannah Reed, national bestselling author of Beewitched "The first in a new series set in the Cape Cod of the Midwest, First-Degree Fudge is a lighthearted confection that cozy mystery readers will devour."-Lucy Burdette, author of Murder with Ganache "As palatable as a fresh pan of Belgian fudge, this debut will delight candy aficionados and mystery lovers with its fast pace, quirky cast, and twist after twist. A must read!"-Liz Mugavero, author of A Biscuit, a Casket "Interesting characters enhance this mystery…plenty of romantic tension. The mystery evolves nicely with a few good twists and turns that lead to a surprising villain."- RT Book Reviews (4 stars) Excerpt from Book Chapter 1 Everything and everyone has a purpose in life, and a place, my grandmother Sophie always said. "And everyone and everything can be good and then go bad. Lloyd Mueller is like beer fudge. Enjoy it now because it only has a shelf life of about three days." I shivered at what shed just insinuated. But nobody contradicted my Belgian grandmother, especially when she was upset. And yet I plunged in like a ninny. "Grandma, Lloyd is a good landlord. Or was. At least hes giving me a refund for making me move out of this rental cabin early. Hes bringing the check to the meeting at the fudge shop. And please dont talk about him having a shelf life." My skin rippled again, this time with big goose bumps. "You make it sound like somebody will do him in for having me move." "Bah and booyah! Maybe he should watch out! Youre moving out of this lovely cabin and then moving into the storage room of your fudge shop? Whoever heard of living in a fudge shop! This is going to be trouble for you and worse for Lloyd!" Exclamation points spat out of her mouth as my grandmother splashed suds about the fudge utensils in my cabins kitchen sink. My cabin was one of several rentals along the three-block length of Duck Marsh Street in Fishers Harbor, a tourist town on peninsular Door County, Wisconsin, which juts into Lake Michigan. Our county was known as the Cape Cod of the Midwest. In the summer our villages population of two hundred swelled to a couple of thousand when the condos and summer homes filled with vacationers from Chicago and beyond. "I dont like it," Grandma said, persisting. We Belgians are like that, the old "dog on a bone," never giving up. "Hes up to no good." I had to admit I felt the same way. Everybody knew everybodys business here. Lloyd was the richest man in town by far. All we knew was that he intended to buy the Blue Heron Inn, but he wasnt telling anybody his intentions except to say it wouldnt be an inn anymore. People all over town were nervous about the secrecy. Even Lloyds ex-wife, Libby--who got along with him fine--had told my grandma she was worried about the mysterious surprise he had cooking for Fishers Harbor. Libby said he wouldnt even tell her. What did that mean? That he was up to no good, as Grandma said? It was hard for me to worry too much about this big secret at the moment. I was in the living room packing books in a hurry in sticky July humidity. It was Friday morning after the Fourth, and Id told Lloyd Id be out by Sunday. I could fuss and ask for thirty days notice, but Lloyd--for all his faults--was also my grandfathers old high school buddy. Besides, I liked the thought of living in a fudge shop. The early-morning fog was being steamed by the sun, steeping me like a tea bag. My long brown hair in a twist atop my head was coming undone on my damp neck, and my trademark pink blouse was beginning to stick to my back. Id been up since five, the water had been cut off in my fudge shop today, and the birdcall clock over the sink had just cardinal-chirped eight oclock, which panicked me. In a half hour I had to meet up with the fudge contest judges and confectioner chef contestants at my shop. Fortunately, Oosterlings Live Bait, Bobbers & Belgian Fudge & Beer was only about thirty feet away across my backyard. It sat on the docks of our Lake Michigan harbor. Grandma said amid pans rattling in the sink, "I dont see why you cant live in our sunporch for now." Grandma and Grandpa Oosterling lived across the way, in one of only two cabins on this street not owned by Lloyd Mueller. Moving in with my Grandma Sophie and Grandpa Gil would be convenient, but I was thirty-two, and Id heard too many jokes about thirtysomethings moving back in with family to be comfortable with the invitation. "Grandma, Ill be fine. I need to worry about settling on a new fudge flavor for next weeks contest." I tossed more cookbooks and scriptwriting books into the next empty box sitting near me on the floor by the couch. "You like Brussels sprouts." "Sprout fudge?" I swallowed down my gag reflex, then heard her squelch a giggle. My grandma was like that, always keeping me on my toes. "What fairy tale is that based on?" From the start of my business I had decided that all my fudge flavors for females had to be named for a fairy tale. Grandma said, "The story of the Three Bears. Porridge fudge." Smiling at that flavor, I countered, "Maybe a Goldilocks flavor, something in gold? Im not sure what flavor that could be, but it needs to be as nice as my cherry-vanilla Cinderella Pink Fudge." The Cinderella fudge had become an instant hit with the tourists. "I want something gal pals will savor with a fine Door County wine or that their little girls would find cute and fun for their tea parties. Im starting to panic." "Ah, the sweet success of your first fudge flavor is pressuring you." Grandma Sophie wrestled a big stainless steel mixer bowl into the sink. "Come over for dinner tonight and well brainstorm. And move your stuff into our cabin. Whoever heard of living in a storage room amid milk, cream, and mice!" "There are no mice in my fudge shop, Grandma. Theres only Titus here in the cabin, in the bottom cupboard." "I cant believe you named a mouse. Bah." "Well, he wouldnt climb into my traps for cheese or even peanut butter, so I figured Id give him a name and then just call him out of hiding." "Booyah to you." The word "booyah" refers to a traditional Belgian celebration stew made with chicken and vegetables, but now the word is used all the time as a cheer word. Grandma continued as she swished suds around the bowl. "That mouse will have more living space than you. And moving now is the worst possible time to do it in your life. Lloyd should be ashamed of himself for telling the new owner youd be gone by Sunday sometime. Who do you suppose he sold these cabins to?" "Maybe Libbys learned more. Ill ask her. I have to stop over at the lighthouse later with her batch of fudge anyway." I sneezed from the books as I packed another box on the floor. I hadnt dusted anything since I arrived in town in late April. Opening and operating the fudge shop had kept me too busy. "Grandma, maybe we should just be happy that Lloyd isnt letting the inn sit empty and become a home for Tituss relatives." "I suppose youre right. Not many people want to move into a place where a murder happened." I shivered all over again for the umpteenth time just thinking about my involvement. Back in May my fudge had been stuck down the throat of an actress who was choked to death. The killer had tried to pin it all on the newbie back in town--me. I wondered now if some relative of the murdered woman had bought my cabin in order to be close to her spirit. Was my landlord afraid Id be freaked out? Try to stop the sale? But I had more important worries. The First Annual Fishers Harbor Fudge Festival was being held a week from tomorrow--Saturday. Back in May Id been conned into sponsoring a fudge contest by my girlfriends new boyfriend. John Schultz was a tourism and tour promoter out of Milwaukee who looked for any angle to bring himself up to Door County to visit Pauline Mertens. John had convinced me that a fudge contest would help me look like a good business member of the community while making amends for drawing bad karma to Fishers Harbor with the murder involving my fudge. The taste-off next Saturday afternoon would be followed by an adult prom dance in the evening outside the fudge shop on the docks. The prom was also hatched by John, with Paulines blessing. I couldnt say no to Pauline. She felt sorry for me. Id never been to a prom because as a teenager I was a too-tall, athletic, nerd-farm-girl that the boys passed in the hallway as if I were invisible. Unfortunately, things were going wrong. While anybody could enter the fudge contest, John had created a celebrity panel consisting of me and two chefs to draw publicity to the fudge festival. His guest celebrity chef contestants, who had arrived this past Monday for a two-week stay, had taken over the six copper kettles in my shop--as in not sharing them with me at all. And I couldnt seem to come up with a new fudge flavor that would knock everybodys socks off. Whats more, I had to find or make a prom dress--something that wouldnt reveal how much fudge Id eaten in the past couple of months. My excited and desperate friends Pauline and Laura Rousseau were coming over later this morning with yet another set of fabric swatches and dress patterns. Laura was two weeks away from delivering twins and desperate to fill her time after the doctor told her to quit her job. Rapid-fire knocking on my front door was followed by my young, red-haired shop assistant, Cody Fjelstad, yelling through the screen, "Miss Oosterling! Come quick!" My mother was with him. She hollered from behind Cody, "Ava honey, your shops being destroyed!" "What?" The nonsensical news kept me rooted for just a second on the floor. Cody opened the screen door, then waved frantically. "Get a move on, Miss Oosterling. Your chefs are chasing each other around the shop with fudge cutters. They keep saying theyre going to kill each other." * * * My fudge shop and all my freshly made fudge were being held hostage by two chefs with circular knives. When I rushed in through the back door of my shop, Kelsey King, a petite blonde from Portland, Oregon, and Piers Molinsky, a portly giant from Chicago, were wielding fudge cutters from their stances on both ends of my white, marble-slab table. My freshly made Cinderella Pink Fudge lay hostage in its pans between them. Kelsey and Piers had fudge cutters poised ov Details ISBN0451416481 Language English ISBN-10 0451416481 ISBN-13 9780451416483 Media Book Short Title HOT FUDGE FRAME UP Author Christine DeSmet Residence WI, US Year 2014 Publication Date 2014-06-03 Imprint Berkley Publishing Corporation,U.S. Place of Publication New York Country of Publication United States Series Fudge Shop Mystery Series Number 2 US Release Date 2014-06-03 UK Release Date 2014-06-03 Narrator Jonathan Glover Illustrator Alev Lytle Jarvis Birth 1939 Death 1988 Affiliation Associate Professor of Psychiatry, Bipolar Clinic and Reseach Program, Massachusetts General Hospital Position Associate Professor of Psychiatry Qualifications Ph.D. Pages 352 Publisher Penguin Putnam Inc Format Paperback Audience General NZ Release Date 2014-06-02 AU Release Date 2014-06-02 We've got this At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. 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