Murder in the Mix Boxed Set 28-30: Cozy Mystery Addison Moore (the reading strategies book .txt) 📖

over those downloads that they sent Evie, and it was nothing more than a few suggestions on what to post each day of the month. It wasn’t anything charged, or even all that innovative. It was just a list of ubiquitous things like post something black and white on Wednesdays, take a selfie next to a body of water on the weekend, so we let her keep the files.

Everett parks behind my bakery, and Evie hops right out of the van.

“I’ll see you both at the bookstore!” she calls out with a wave. “And don’t worry about me. Glam Glam and Carlotta are there. Carlotta has already sent me like three different pictures of the women mobbing her.”

“We’re coming with you,” Everett says, turning the van off in haste. “Just give us a second.”

“You move like an old couple,” she shouts as she starts to take off. “Besides, I’ve got content to post!”

“We’re not old,” I call out, but it’s too late, she’s already down the street. “So much for keeping her safe,” I say, trying to untangle my huge belly from the seatbelt.

Everett comes around and helps lift me out of the van.

“I hate that someone is essentially stalking Evie,” I pant.

“We don’t know that it’s a stalker.” He lands a kiss to my lips as he says it.

“You’re just trying to make me feel better,” I grunt as we make our way through the snow and into the back of the warm bakery. “I hate that they’re telling her to keep their presence a secret. It’s beyond creepy. And I’m going to work overtime to put an end to it. We have enough on our plate. We don’t need to add some maniac after our daughter to the mix.”

“I hear you,” he says, taking a fresh brownie wedge from a cookie sheet. “Noah’s at the station, dropping off Verity’s phone, which is also something that highly concerns me. Someone stuffed that phone into Evie’s purse the night of the murder. They’ve been planning on using her from the beginning.”

I scoff at the thought as Everett and I enter the front of the bakery and I pull out a couple of empty pink boxes from under the register and hand one to Everett.

Lily is working with a couple of customers, but for the most part the bakery is almost bare of people. And considering we’re closing soon, I’m okay with it.

“I wish I had never brought Evie with me to that stupid party.” I hand him a tissue and we both start filling the boxes with cookies to take across the street. “And when you get right down to it, the real blame lies with Cormack and Cressida. It was their ridiculous love your selfie party.”

“Believe me, I’m having one serious talk with the both of them. Evie said the B&B was hot pink.”

“And it’s not called the B&B anymore.” I pause a moment, holding one of my conversation heart cookies that says I think you’re cute and wag it in front of Everett while biting down a smile.

“And I know you’re beautiful.” He lands a searing kiss to my lips.

I make a face. “Thank you. But my mind is still stuck on whose fault that fiasco was. You know if you pull the curtain back far enough it was Wiley who caused this tornado to come barreling through our lives.”

“True. But I doubt that a change of venue would have stopped Verity Prescott from being killed. Someone was gunning for her. Verity’s days were numbered no matter where she was that night.”

“Maybe, but what I wouldn’t give to not have dragged Evie into the thick of it.”

We button up our boxes, and I look up at my handsome husband.

“Are you ready for this impromptu book signing?”

“As long as I’m with you, I’m ready for anything.”

I steal a kiss from his lips and the baby gives a kick that sends him backing up with a laugh caught in his throat.

“I think we have a bookworm tucked in there. Let’s go buy this baby a book or two.”

Everett and I make our way through the snow and across the street, each with a box of sweet treats in hand. We bypass the snake-like line that makes its way clear down Main Street and head into the shop where more than a couple dozen women sport pink T-shirts on over their sweaters that read A Whole Lotta Troublemakers on the front and Carlotta’s Captives across the back.

Wonderful. Carlotta has brainwashed the masses into doing her bidding. First, the Vermont best-sellers list, next—the world.

Inside the quaint bookshop, the walls are painted mint green and the bookshelves that line the majority of the expansive shop are snow white. Large pink signs orient the customers to each of the different sections—romantic literature, historical, contemporary, paranormal, and so on. The floors are white with iridescent sparkles, and the scent of vanilla is igniting my senses right up until I realize it’s coming from the box I’m holding.

“We’ve got to set these cookies down before I eat them all,” I say as Everett and I thread through the bodies in an effort to get deeper into the shop. To the right there are three tables set out with Carlotta on one and Bambi Bailey on the other, and snug in between them is my mother. Both Carlotta and Bambi have impossibly long lines, and my poor mother is twiddling her thumbs with not even Wiley in sight to keep her company.

“Whoa”—Everett nods behind me, and I turn to find a hive of people all clamoring to get someone’s attention—“I think that’s Evie in the center of that commotion. I’d better go check it out.”

“Oh my goodness,” I huff at the sight. “What in the world has she stepped into?”

“Lottie!” Mom calls out and I make my way over—more like waddle my way over. “Oh, Lottie, this is a nightmare,” she wails as she tosses up a pen. “Nobody is interested in my beach fiction.”