The House That Jack the Quipper Built: Drop Dead Gingerbread Cred

"Run, run, fast as you can.  You can't catch me, I'm the Gingerbread Man!"  The beloved rhyme turns out to be untrue in Lee Hollis's Death of a Gingerbread Man.  Because the runner up of Bar Harbor's annual gingerbread house building contest loses more than first place.  He bites the sugar dust, with the winner emerging as the prime suspect.  And he (the winner, not the dead dude) happens to be Hayley Powell's long-lost father.  

In the twenty-odd Hayley Powell food and cocktails mysteries, we've heard nary a word about the man who gave the sleuth life.  Sure, her impossible-to-please mother Sheila sometimes rears her ugly head, but her pops has remained, well, a mystery.  Until now.  Fresh from yet another failed romance, Dwight Jordan blows back into Bar Harbor, much to the delight of half the town -- and the chagrin of the other.  A charming if disheveled conniver, Dwight leaves a trail of chaos wherever he goes.  And this time that trail includes murder.

Death of a Gingerbread Man may be Hayley's zaniest misadventure yet.  I snickered at the sitcom-worthy snafus that Dwight "unknowingly" authors.  Each is more cringeworthy than the last, making for a quirky Christmas caper.  Yet despite being a clever whodunit, Death of a Gingerbread Man isn't really about whether or not Dwight offed his fellow baker.  It's about if he'll stay in Bar Harbor or keep running. You know, like the Gingerbread Man.

Maybe the rhyme rings true after all.  

Clued for Thought: Murder Mysteries on the Menu

Lately, I've been reading even more cozy murder mysteries than usual.  Maybe because some other genres left a slightly bad taste in my mouth.  Anyway, in doing so, it hit me that most of the series I follow are food-related.  Many even include recipes, which I never use but nevertheless enjoy.  I guess that's part of why I'm so drawn to these wholesome whodunits.  They consistently serve up a helping of happy.  Because although it's fun to figure out who did in the nibby neighbor or arrogant heiress, it's the comfort of home-baked cakes and casseroles that keeps me at the table.

So here's a quartet of titles I recently read, arranged on poster board like entrées on seen-from-space plates:

Sprinkle with Murder by Jenn McKinlay, a Cupcake Bakery Mystery

Lemon Curd Killer by Laura Childs, a Tea Shop Mystery

Death of a Clam Digger by Lee Hollis, a Hayley Powell Food and Cocktails Mystery

Peking Duck and Cover by Vivien Chien, a Noodle Shop Mystery

Seeing them in all their quirky glory is like snuggling under a crazy quilt of culinary delights.  I even read some of Death of a Clam Digger to Charlotte (although not, I promise, the murder part!), and she was riveted, or, as the husband put it, on the edge of her blanket.

Now that I'm done writing this post, I realize that I haven't said anything I haven't said countless times before.  My love for cozies remains reliable, just like the mainstay stories themselves.  Suspense?  Sure. But no surprises.

And that's just how this creature of habit likes it. 🍰🔎🥘

Cold Hold: You Scream, I Scream, We All Scheme for Ice Cream

Time for another bite-sized book review!

It's a rocky road to whodunit in Lee Hollis's Death of an Ice Scream Scooper.  On an innocent mission to score some Sea Salt Caramel, Bar Harbor food columnist-turned-restauranteur Hayley Powell discovers the body of a coed in an ice cream truck.  What follows is a trail of twists and turns as unexpected as Bar Harbor Ice Cream's Blueberry Basil Sorbet and Thai Chili Coconut.  So, one scoop (or two or three) at a time, Hayley moves in on the cold-hearted killer. 

And with that, this reviewer's verdict is in: detecting has never been so delicious! 🍨🍧🍦

B is for Books About Bunnies and Babies

Also, Becky Bloomwood.  But we'll work our way up to that.  First things first.  As you know, I can't let a holiday pass without reading a coordinating cozy homicide.  So this Easter hat trick of three novellas including Leslie Meier's Easter Basket Murder, Lee Hollis's Death by Easter Egg, and Barbara Ross's Hopped Along was just what the Easter bunny ordered.  Each story delivered on the irresistible cocktail of cute and creepy, although I enjoyed Death by Easter Egg the most.  There's something about the combination of candy and crime that's especially decadent.    

Kind of like childbirth and chuckles, which isn't decadent, but rather soothing.  Now that I'm in the last leg of my pregnancy (30 weeks!), I felt the urge to reread Sophie Kinsella's Shopaholic and Baby.  As the big day draws near, I knew that reliving Becky's hijinks would be especially entertaining and comforting.  And it was.  What I didn't expect was for it to make me cry.  (Then again, these days, there isn't much that doesn't switch on the waterworks.)  Because along with all the fiascos and fun is the heart that beats so beautifully in each of Kinsella's books.  As Becky persevered through her struggles, I knew that I could conquer mine too, and that in the end it will all be worth it because my baby girl is meant to be.

It's no wonder that this book was the first thing I slipped into my go bag.  

Immediately followed, of course, by a brand-new tube of Cherries in the Snow lipstick.      

Pet Peeve Dry Heave: Don't Eat the Chocolate

Lee Hollis's Death of a Chocoholic in twelve words or less: 

Chocolates made with something extra -- no, not love, but cat hair. 😻🍫

Barrettes and Cupcakes and Blueberries

Every now and then I like to post a pic that has nothing to do with the post.  Because I like to keep things fresh.  And also because I'm lazy.  

In that same vein, instead of doing reviews of the Lee Hollis cozy mysteries I recently read, I'm pasting the blurbs I posted on Instagram:

Death of a Cupcake Queen: They say that cat ladies are sad ladies, but sometimes dog ladies are sadder.  Something to chew on while you gobble this cupcake caper. 🐶🧁🐱

Death of a Blueberry Tart: Any character named Caskie Lemon-Hogg is destined for disaster.  Devour her demise along with your favorite blueberry dessert. 💙🥧🌿

Sometimes a soundbite is all you need.

Food for the Distraught: Murder With a Side of Munchies

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Halloween mysteries are full of tricks and treats.  And that's especially true of the two I just gobbled: Leslie Meier's Candy Corn Murder and Lee Hollis's Death of a Wicked Witch.  Both involve vehicular homicide, although not in the way you'd imagine, as well as, of course, festive food.  

In Candy Corn Murder, a local is stuffed in a car trunk in the middle of Tinker Cove's pumpkin-catapulting competition.  (There's also a guess-how-many-candy-corns-are-in-the-canister contest.)  In Death of a Wicked Witch, Bar Harbor's boo-tiful new sandwich artist bites the big one by being gassed in her own Wicked 'Witches food truck.

Like Joanne Fluke, Lee Hollis sprinkles in recipes, and in Death of a Wicked Witch, they're all for sandwiches (hoagies and grinders, hoagies and grinders!).  Witch Which always makes me wonder.  Are they there to serve as a delicious distraction, or for the deeper purpose of offering life-affirming balance to the bone-chilling murder?  You know, kind of like how people bring cakes and casseroles when someone dies.  Then again, like those cakes and casseroles, these subs and clubs have enough fat to end someone's life instead of sustaining it.  

These are the things that keep me up at night.  That and the BLTs.