Murder Is No Picnic (A Cape Cod Foodie Mystery) (Libro en Inglés)

$ 1,072.00
ISBN: 9780593199183
por Berkley
ISBN: 9780593199183
Editorial: Berkley
Autor: Pershing, Amy
Año de edición: 2022
N° Paginas: 336
Tipo de pasta: Pasta blanda
Descripción: When a celebrity chef is found dead, Samantha Barnes, the "Cape Cod Foodie", finds her search for the world's best blueberry buckle turning into a search for a killerThe Fourth of July is coming, and for professional food lover Samantha Barnes, it’s all about the picnic. Okay, and the fireworks. And the parade. But mostly the picnic. What could be better than a DIY clambake followed by the best blueberry buckle in the world? Sam has finally found the perfect recipe in the kitchen of Clara Foster, famed cookbook author and retired restaurateur, and she’s thrilled when Clara agrees to a buckle baking lesson.But when Clara dies in a house fire blamed on carelessness in the kitchen, Sam doesn’t believe it. Unfortunately, her doubts set in motion an investigation pointing to the new owner of Clara’s legendary restaurant—and a cousin of Sam’s harbormaster boyfriend. So, in between researching the Cape’s best lobster rolls and planning her clambake, Sam needs to find Clara's killer before the fireworks really start....About the AuthorAmy Pershing is a lifelong mystery lover and wordsmith. In her previous career she was the Managing Director and Global Head of Employee Communications at the Bank of New York Mellon. A few years ago (with the final college tuition bill paid!), she waved goodbye to Wall Street in order to write full time.Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.oneLadies and gentleman, I have an announcement," I said grandly.My friends paused from wolfing down various decadent desserts and glanced at one another skeptically. They were not used to me saying anything grandly. Usually my pronouncements began with "Um . . ." or "Yeah, but . . ." This time, though, it would be different. This was an historic moment."My search for a blueberry buckle worthy of our upcoming Fourth of July picnic is finally at an end," I said, still in grand mode. "This"-I paused dramatically-"is the world's best blueberry buckle."I waved my fork at the deceptively simple wedge of buckle on the plate in front of me. My gaze invited my fellow diners to admire the dense, almost cookie-like cake studded with tiny berries and topped by a rich, crumbly brown sugar streusel. To call this confection a coffee cake would be technically correct but would diminish its rich, buttery deliciousness. And besides, it was being served as dessert, as evidenced by the rich dollop of whipped cream on the side, so it was a confection. Serve anything with whipped cream and it automatically becomes a dessert. Everybody knows that.As one, my friends reached toward my prize, forks at the ready. I picked up the plate and waved it out of their reach."Oh, no you don't," I protested. "There is no 'we' in blueberry buckle."The five of them sat back, sighing audibly. I grinned at them. I love my friends. I love my organic farmer friend Miles Tanner, who looks like a gay Paul Bunyan. I love my best friend from childhood, Jenny Snow Singleton, who has three rowdy boys and is married to a high-powered lawyer but is growing her own videography business like the tycoon she secretly is. I love Jillian Munsell, who manages the local nursing home with immense efficiency and warmth and who is the best baker I have ever known (and as a onetime chef, I have known a few). I love Helene Greenberg, my sixty-something next-door neighbor and the town librarian, who wears T-shirts that say things like "I do a thing called what I want." I even kind of love my friend/boss, Krista Baker, the editor in chief of the Cape Cod Clarion, who, when I complain that she can be a bit overbearing, dismisses me with a quick "I'm not bossy. I have executive leadership skills." A reply which, I might add, she got from a tote bag my mother gave her for Christmas. Thanks, Mom.So, yeah, I love them. Even Krista. Sometimes. But at that moment, I loved my blueberry buckle more."No fair," Jenny protested. "We always share when we go out to eat." Jenny

  • Idioma: Inglés

  • Envío: Desde EE. UU.

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