Wicked Whoopie Pies Addison Moore (the false prince series TXT) 📖

expression beginning to soften. I may have only met her a few short weeks ago, but since she’s wearing my face like a Halloween mask, I feel as if I already know all of her nuances.

“What are you all looking at?” she grouses at Noah and Everett until they get back to their coffee and desserts. Her eyes dart my way. “What’s new with your killer? Did you find them yet?”

“No.”

“What are you waiting for? An invitation?” She pulls out her phone. “Who’s the next suspect? I need to get my mind off things.”

I look to Noah. “I think we need to talk to Olive St. James. Clementine mentioned she might have some intel. I say we track her down.”

“The church counselor?” Everett shoots Noah a look. “Did you speak to her yet?”

“Not formally,” he says. “But I picked up her name and number the night of the murder.”

Charlie scoffs. “Name and number? What are you, dating her?” She shakes her head as she looks my way. “I can see why the good citizens of Haunted Hollow need you, Lottie. We’ll track her down ourselves.”

“We can go in for counseling, Lot,” Noah offers.

Charlie scoffs his way yet again. “What are you, an amateur? Don’t answer that.” She rolls her eyes my way. “We’ll track her down after work and see if we can’t bump into her somewhere.”

My mouth falls open. “That’s usually my MO. Hey? You’re a natural.”

Her eyes sharpen over mine. “I’m better than you think.”

The door swoops open and in strides an entire horde of tourists, some of which are wearing T-shirts that read I survived the Haunted Honey Hollow B&B Tour, and I take a breath because I know for a fact my mother has sent these people my way.

My mother has been giving tours of her haunted B&B for the last few years and charging eighty bucks a pop to do so. And once she cashes in on those ghostly ghouls, she sends the tourists my way for that morbid last meal train. And the very dessert these people have a hankering for is whatever the latest homicide victim in this cozy little town happened to be noshing on last. In this case—whoopie pies.

“Here they come!” Lily shouts from the register. “Don’t worry, Lottie. I’m ready for them. We’ve got more than enough whoopie pies to outfit an infantry.”

Suze staggers over like a zombie, her mouth hanging open as she eyes the crowd. “Not this again,” she grumbles. “I say every last one of you people has a sudden hankering for pizza,” she hisses.

In less than three seconds, each of my prospective customers looks morbidly confused. And rather than asking for an array of my fun-flavored whoopie pies, they ask for the name of a good pizza joint.

Suze points the way—just like that, every last one of them turns around and marches over to Mangias.

“Lemon?” Everett watches with marked suspicion as the crowd drains. “What the heck just happened?”

“Suze Fox just happened,” I snap in the white witch’s direction. “You beguiled them right on out of here! How dare you cost me business.”

Her mouth opens and closes and she looks both miffed and shocked that I had the cookies to stand up to her.

“Why, it’s not right to capitalize off the dead,” she warbles while pointing a finger right at me.

A high-pitched wail emits from Lyla Nell and Noah stands and rocks her.

“Now look what you’ve done, Mom.” Noah frowns her way. “You’ve upset the baby.”

“Oh, it’s all my fault.” Suze tosses her hands in the air. “I’m just trying to sell cookies here, Noah. And believe me, some of these cookies are next to impossible to move.” She struts back to the registers while tossing a dishtowel over her shoulder.

Charlie growls, “Someone needs to get lucky.”

My chest bucks with a silent laugh at the thought. “Let’s not get crazy. Not every pot has a lid.”

“Sure they do, Lottie.” Charlie nods. “I’ll take Suze on as a private project. I’ll find her the perfect suitor.”

“No thanks.” Noah is quick to shut down the offer. “There’s not a man alive who can tame her. My father gave it the old college try, and he had to fake his death to get away from her.”

That’s true, mostly.

“Have it your way,” Charlie says.

The door swings open once again and there’s just a single person walking through this time, but it’s one person I’m thrilled to see.

“Mom,” I say, making my way around the counter, mostly to calm Lyla Nell, but first I give my mother a quick embrace.

“Oh my word, I heard this poor child wailing all the way down the street. Come here, shnookie.” She fishes Lyla Nell out of Noah’s carrier and I help fluff up her pink and white striped seersucker dress until she looks like a scrumptious meringue once again. “There, there.” Mom snuggles with the baby, and soon Lyla Nell is contentedly tugging at one of Mom’s hoop earrings. Speaking of hoop earrings, she’s donned a floral sundress, heels, and a purple straw hat to finish off her spring look.

“You look all gussied up,” I tell her. “Let me guess, Cormack has employed a new dress code at the Rendezvous Luxury Resort and Razzle Dazzle Day Spa?”

She makes a face. “I’m this close to convincing her to change the name back. But that woman is relentless in getting her way.”

Everett lets out a breath. “She’s spent a lifetime doing just that. I’m afraid it’ll take an act of God and Congress to get her to concede.”

Mom groans, “Well, first thing’s first. We’ve got the church meeting this next Saturday and it’s time to cast our votes. I just came from a meeting and I hope you don’t mind, but I volunteered your desserts for the refreshment table. And before I forget, I’m hosting a Mother’s Day brunch the very next day at the B&B, after the service, of course. I can’t wait to see who our new pastor will be. And it’s sort of