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

her machete with one hand and Thirteen by the tail in the other.

“Dead cats tell no tales,” Lea warbles in her best haunted tone and I give her a nod of approval.

“Hello, you two,” I say, giving them a quick wave with Lyla Nell’s hand. I’ve dressed my little spring chicken up in a pink frothy dress with strawberry prints all over and landed a matching bonnet on her head. Thankfully, Lyla Nell slept through the church service and I didn’t miss a second of the action.

“Lemon,” Everett says as he nods over my shoulder where those horrifically oversized oil paintings of Cormack and Cressida hang—and to my horror, Cressida’s self-portrait has been replaced with one of my mother. Her creamy vanilla curls are a bit longer, her waist a bit thinner, and her boobs a bit more boobalicous.

“Oh my word,” I say as Lyla Nell squawks and giggles while opening and closing her fists at the painting.

Noah chuckles. “I think it’s making her hungry.”

Everett grunts, “My guess is it’s making you hungry, too, Noah. Come on, Lemon. Let’s get some food in him before he gets any funny ideas.”

A laugh bubbles through me as we head to the conservatory. Everett is convinced Noah initiated that smash and grab to my lips last night in Fallbrook. He’s not very happy with him.

The glass conservatory is brimming with bodies, with just about everyone in our cozy little town in attendance. Classical music dances through the speakers and the scent of my sweet treats mingles with the delectable brunch delivered by the Honey Pot Diner.

My mother runs our way. “Lottie Lemon! Happy Mother’s Day!”

“Right back at you, Mom,” I say, giving her a big kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you for sending Carlotta and Evie ahead, they’ve really helped me out.”

“I didn’t,” I tell her. I think they snuck out of church a little bit early. And knowing Carlotta, a lot early.” I glance toward the long line of buffet tables, and outside the glass walls countless picnic tables are taken up with occupants enjoying the feast.

I turn to tell Noah and Everett to reserve us a spot in the shade when I see them across the room speaking to Wiley. And by the looks of it, they’re having one serious conversation.

“Oh, give me that baby,” Mom says, plucking Lyla Nell out of my arms. “You have a real live doll on your hands, you know that?”

Lyla Nell giggles and kicks her feet as she gives my mother’s nose a pinch.

“Play nice with Glam Glam,” I say just as two more of my favorite mothers head this way.

“Lainey, Keelie”—I hold open my arms as they come at me with their babes in tow—“Happy Mother’s Day, girls!”

They return the sentiment and we engage in a group hug that leaves both my arms filled with a baby. Both Keelie and Lainey are wearing paisley-colored sundresses. I’m wearing one, too, but I didn’t get the paisley memo.

Little Josie is wearing a lavender dress with a fluffy tutu attached, and now I just have to get one for Lyla Nell so they can match. Baby Bear looks dapper in a dress shirt and jeans. Little does he know this will be the lifelong uniform for him.

“Josie, you are getting so big,” I say to my curly-haired niece. “And you, Bear, are going to be a bruiser, starting with my right arm.”

“Come here.” Keelie hoists him back her way. “You’ve got enough trouble on your hands, Lot, and I don’t mean Josie.” She blows a kiss her way.

“Lyla Nell’s no trouble either,” I say, cooing at my sweet dark-haired princess and she rewards me by digging those Fox-issued dimples in deep.

Lainey makes a face. “You don’t know, do you?”

“Oh no,” I groan. “Don’t tell me Nell’s house is brimming with black mold again—or whatever scheme Carlotta cooked up this time to get out from under its roof.” Not that she’s budging from my place, but still.

Meg pops up with a laugh caught in her throat. “Sorry, Lot. But I’m not taking on any roommates. Carlotta will have to fend for herself.”

Carlotta crops up next to me. “What’s this?” Her mouth squares out. “You’re not kicking me to the curb on Mother’s Day, are you, Lot?”

“Sort of the way you kicked me to the curb on my birthday?” I tease. “Nope.”

“Whew.” She wipes her brow in an exaggerated manner. “Good thing. Say, what happened with the church vote? Evie needed to sneak off and have a quick make-out session with her boyfriend and she needed a lift.”

I take a moment to glower at her. “It was a tie.”

“A tie!” Mom gives a little hop and Lyla Nell giggles like mad.

“That’s right,” Lainey sings. “Pastor Cleary and Pastor Dave decided they’re going to split the leadership duties right down the middle and alternate preaching on Sundays. So we’ll be having a contemporary worship service when Pastor Dave is at the helm and a traditional service, complete with the choir, when Pastor Cleary takes the pulpit.”

“That’s right,” I say. “All’s well that ends well.”

Carlotta ticks her head to the side. “That woman who choked on your whoopie pie isn’t singing that song, Lot.”

Meg chuckles. “To Lottie it isn’t ending well unless a corpse shows up on the scene.”

“Oh stop, both of you.” I wave them off. “Carlotta, that poor woman didn’t choke on my whoopie pie. And Meg, I hope to never see another corpse as long as I live. With the exception of—”

Charlie pops into our circle. “What’s everyone whispering about?”

“Not now, Cha Cha.” Carlotta all but shoves her away. “Lot Lot was just about to put a pox on you.”

I glance to the ceiling at the absurdity of it all. “I was not, Charlie. I was going to say the only corpse I want to see is that fried chicken sent over from the Honey Pot Diner.”

Mom makes a face. “I was looking forward to it up until you put it that way.” She takes off for the buffet