Chocolate Chip Cookie Murder [Hannah Swensen Mystery Series, Book 1]
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Take one amateur sleuth. Mix in some eccentric Minnesota locals. Add a generous dollop of crackling suspense, and you've got the recipe for this delicious new mystery series featuring Hannah Swensen, the red-haired, cookie-baking heroine whose gingersnaps are almost as tart as her mouth and whose penchant for solving crime is definitely stirring things up.
Chocolate Chip Cookie Murder
Hannah already has her hands full trying to dodge her mother's attempts to marry her off while running The Cookie Jar, Lake Eden's most popular bakery. But once Ron LaSalle, the beloved delivery man from the Cozy Cow Dairy, is found murdered behind her bakery with Hannah's famous Chocolate Chip Crunchies scattered around him, her life just can't get any worse. Determined not to let her cookies get a bad reputation, she sets out to track down a killer. But if she doesn't watch her back, Hannah's sweet life may get burned to a crisp.
cup. Her niece knew how to measure brown sugar. She’d helped Hannah and Lisa bake before. She could even identify the line that called for brown sugar in the list of ingredients because she could read the words brown and sugar. But the Chocolate Mint Softies called for two-thirds of a cup of brown sugar. And while Tracey knew her whole numbers up to twenty, she didn’t know her fractions yet. If Candy’d had a little sister or brother, or if she’d spent time with kids Tracey’s age, she would have
Norman, but if she wanted to help Bill solve Ron’s murder, she had to gather all the facts. And the one person left alive who could tell her what had happened during Ron’s dental appointment was the dentist himself. “All right, Norman,” Hannah caved in to the inevitable with all the good grace she could muster. “I’ll see you at one.” Regency Ginger Crisps Do not preheat oven yet—dough must chill before baking. ¾ cup melted butter (1½ sticks) 1 cup brown sugar 1 large beaten egg
would be here at seven-thirty to start the baking. The next half hour passed quickly as Hannah chopped, melted, measured, and mixed ingredients. By trial and error, she’d found that her cookies tasted better if she limited herself to batches that she could mix by hand. Her recipes were originals, developed in her mother’s kitchen when she was a teenager. Delores thought baking was a chore and she’d been happy to delegate that task to her eldest daughter so that she could devote all of her
he’d given a lecture, she’d been spellbound. It hadn’t been his manner of speaking or the way he’d read stanzas from Byron and Keats. It had been his marvelous, soul-searching dark blue eyes. Social meetings after class with the professor had been frowned upon by the administration unless several students were in attendance, but Brad had found ways around the rules. Hannah had gone to his office for several student-professor conferences. After he’d told her that he thought he was in love with
she went in on Monday. Then she listened to her second message. It was from a man who identified himself as Robert Collins from Hideaway Resorts, who invited her to a complimentary dinner for prospective timeshare investors at a hotel in Minneapolis. Hannah didn’t bother to write down his toll-free number. The third message made Hannah perk up her ears. It was from Bill and he told her that he just wanted to keep her up to speed. The manager from Compacts Unlimited had contacted him this