At the B&B. Need you NOW!

I send Everett the spastic text as I make my way back toward the party. My heart is doing its best to kickbox its way out of my chest, my adrenaline hits its zenith, and my entire body has taken on a pulse of its own. It feels dangerous, delirious—and come to think of it, exactly how I feel once Noah has thoroughly frosted my cookies.

The living room of the B&B is thick with bodies. Each woman in attendance is at rapt attention as Eve waves a book in the air, and I gasp when I see it—the otherworldly nuisance, not the literary scorcher.

“The Saucy Sassenach.” Eve giggles like a schoolgirl as she reads the title off that aptly titled spicy read. That giant spectral menace roves freely behind her, sniffing and grunting at each woman’s lap systematically. “First and foremost”—Eve looks at the crowd from over her glasses—“I want to thank my darling friend Miranda for hosting today’s book club meeting—my birthday is simply a happy aside.” The room breaks out into warm applause. Eve really is that humble. “I also would like to thank Becca Turner”—Becca is my best friend’s mother, and I can’t help but applaud the loudest when I hear her name—“for secretly shuttling my friends and family here today. And Chrissy Nash”—the mayor’s ex-wife—“for being a rock for me all these years. And, of course, my dear children.” Her lips curl as she glances their way, but it felt anything but loving. Maybe the bad blood runs both ways?

The burly black bear makes his way to the dessert table, and I quickly amble my way in that direction. It yanks a tray of chocolate chip cookies toward itself and begins sifting through them as if it were looking for the biggest in the batch.

The cookies are moving—seemingly by themselves!

“Oh my God,” I mumble as I speed over and do my best to bat the celestial creature away.

“Hey”—someone next to me hisses, and I look to find Naomi Turner, Keelie’s bratty sister, snarling up at me—“keep your crazy at bay. People are trying to have a good time here.”

A couple of months ago, Naomi started up a naughty book club that was quickly joined by the historical romance book club that Eve and my mother run, and it looks as if both literary forces have joined together to help celebrate Eve’s big day. Not only did Naomi show up, but Lily Swanson, who happens to work for me down at the bakery, is present and scowling at me. Cascade Montgomery, the cousin of the first body I found this year is shooting me the stink eye as well. Cascade runs the Busy Bee Crafts Shop down the street from me. And along with that trio of scowling faces, there seems to be every other female in Honey Hollow haunting these halls.

Speaking of haunting, I glare at the burly menace who stands less than a foot away.

The bear grunts at me after unsuccessfully trying to lap up my cookies. Thank God for small mercies. If all these cookies disappeared in a heap, I’d have a lot of explaining to do. My God, everyone in this room would think the B&B was haunted—or that I was very, very hungry.

“Lottie!”

I glance up to find both Keelie and Lainey at the door and speed their way, pulling them into a dual embrace.

“Get a seat, ladies,” I whisper. “I have a feeling this is going to be quite the show.”

Lainey wrinkles her nose. “Oh, it is. I read the book and, believe me, when I say it steamed up my glasses.” Lainey is the head librarian in town, and she happens to be my older sister. Even though the Lemons adopted me when I was an infant, Lainey and I share the same caramel-colored waves and hazel green eyes. Lainey recently got back together with her longtime love Forrest Donovan. Too bad it took the death of her temporary boy toy to do it. I shudder at the thought of Tanner’s murder.

Lainey speeds by and takes a seat by Eve’s daughters. I seriously doubt she realizes who they are.

Keelie leans in. Keelie Nell Turner is just about as blonde and bubbly as her name suggests. She works in the restaurant conjoined to the Cutie Pie Bakery, the Honey Pot Diner, which also happens to be owned by her Grammy Nell. And my God, I cannot wait to get my hands on Nell. I’m going to leave right after I slice up that seven-layer cake and head straight for Nell’s place. That woman has answers to this supernatural pop quiz the universe has sprung on me one too many times, and I desperately need her help.

“Guess what?” Keelie’s eyes light up like twin moons.

“You have another naughty nightie you’d like to gift me?” I couldn’t help it. Keelie gifted me a naughty Mrs. Claus nightie last month, and Noah and I have made good use of it ever since. But I’m sort of starting to feel like a one-hit wonder and think it’s time for me to up my lingerie game.

“Yes, but it’s for me.” She gives a hearty wink. “Hook Redwood asked me to dinner! So I might just get a chance to wear it yet.”

“What?” I beam right back. Hook Redwood graduated top of his class at Yale, then went on to take Wall Street by storm. When his brother, Tanner, died last month, he came back and took over the family’s real estate empire. “That’s great. Really great.” I shimmy my shoulders at her. To be blunt, Hook is as hot as his bad boy moniker suggests. “Hey, find out if that’s his real name. I can’t for the life of me remember that we ever called him anything else.”

“Mr. Sexy.” She waggles her brows.

“No, that would be Everett.” Quite literally. When Everett and I met, he refused to give me even a hint of what his name could be. But the barista at the coffee shop we were at scrawled that infamous name onto his morning coffee and I scoffed, even though it was clearly true. Everett turned out to be the judge presiding over my case that morning and he wisely sided with me.

Essex Everett Baxter is every bit the sex god his name implies. He’s tall, forebodingly good-looking, dark hair, brilliant blue eyes, never smiles, rarely laughs, and only refers to me by my last name. Suffice it to say, if he were here, he’d hijack the attention of every woman in this room.

The room grows strangely still, and I come to just in time to see the good judge himself darkening the doorway. He’s got his winter coat on, and there’s a smattering of snowflakes dusting his shoulders, letting me know it’s still coming down out there.

“Carry on,” I say, motioning to Eve who clears her throat before expounding on the glory of seventeenth century Scotland.

I speed Everett back out the door, glancing over my shoulder just as the beastly bear ambles to the center of the room and lies down at Eve’s feet as if he too were interested in story time.

“What’s going on?” Everett asks as I pull him into the nearest hallway. Everett is built like a linebacker, broad shoulders, rock-hard chest, and his cologne is hypnotically thick and rich. Any girl would be lucky to have him, and most girls are. Everett collects exes as if they were playing cards, and only those infamous exes ever get to call him by his proper name, Essex. It’s like some parting gift he extends to them.

“Did you leave the courthouse for me?” My head ticks to the side in awe of how kind this man can be. Beneath that gruff exterior there lies a very real beating heart. I bet he felt obligated to drop everything because back in November I happened to catch the person who killed one of his infamous exes. Everett was so thankful that he purchased a refrigerated van for the bakery. A refrigerated van just so happened to be a prize at the contest where I helped apprehend the killer. Instead of going for the refrigerated gold, I let my pies burn to a crisp in an effort to clear his good name, and I’d do it all again in a second.

“It’s my day off.” He squints down at me. “What’s happening, Lemon? I’m about to jump out of my skin.” Ironic since he looks as calm and composed as usual.

The bear ambles out of the room for a moment and grunts and sniffs in our direction.

“I see another one.” I point over at the five-ton terror.

“Another what?” he hisses so loud the bear actually turns its head this way in haste. “Holy heck, is it another dog? Who do you think it belongs to?”

“This is no dog, Everett. It’s a bear! A big black bear and he looks hungry enough to devour a room full of people.”

The bear lets out an egregious roar before heading back into the room brimming with I can only assume it thinks is dinner.

“A bear.” Everett inches back. “Who in their right mind would keep a bear as a pet? You did say that was a rule, correct?”

“Yes! And I have no clue. I mean, that’s insanity, right? When that beast stands on its hind legs, its head hits the ceiling. And it’s wild, and wooly, and scouring the premises for its next meal.”

“Geez. It can’t eat anybody, can it?”

I wince. “I don’t know. Up until Dutch came along, I never heard them before. But not only can I hear this beast, it’s knocking things over, too!”

A loud bang comes from the next room, followed by a round of gasps.

“Blistering black bears!” I hiss as Everett and I speed back into the room, only to find a platter of my pretzel cookies lying at Naomi Turner’s feet, half the room in a tizzy.

“Naomi,” I scold, even though I’m positive she had little to do with Pretzel Gate. “Try to maintain a sense of composure. There are plenty to go around.” I don’t mind the tiny dig at her. Naomi takes a pot shot at me whenever given the chance. Besides, I have a hungry bear to cover for.

Naomi gags as if she weren’t sure herself if she did the deed. Just as I’m about to clean it up, several of the books go flying right out of their owners’ hands, and the entire left side of the room breaks out into shrill cries of terror. I look over, horrified to find that bear doing its best to chew on the pile of pulp fiction at its feet.

Cascade Montgomery jumps from her seat. “Those books just flew out of our hands! Miranda Lemon, I demand to know if this place is haunted.”

More gasps and screams ensue as all hell breaks loose—and judging by that roaring bear, that might be a literal statement. The entire room erupts into a heated buzz as Eve Hollister ambles my way.

“I need some air.” Her skin is pale, and her eyes look crossed. “I can’t handle all this excitement. In fact, I think I’ll bring the cake over and we can get right to the good part.” She takes off before I can stop her.

“Please don’t,” I shout after her, doing my best to sound bright and cheery. “I’ll bring the cake out myself in just a moment!”

Mom scampers over as half the guests rise and make their way to the refreshment table.

“This is a disaster, Lottie.” She takes one look at Everett and magically pulls herself together enough to wink his way. “My, aren’t you dapper. You know, I happen to have one very single daughter who would look stunning by your side.” She chortles at my sister’s expense. It’s true. She indeed has a single daughter. My sister, Meg, is working the female wrestling circuit in Las Vegas, where she’s known as Madge the Badge. “In fact, she’s threatening to come out next month.” Mom tosses the true blue threat out there as if it were enticing. Meg wears her over dyed jet-black locks teased to the ceiling circa 1985 and wears yellow contacts as a part of her act. But she’s just as scary on a day-to-day basis.

I crimp my lips at Everett. “You’d better brush up on your Krav Maga. My sister has been known to land a date on their back a time or two, and not in a good way.”

The bear lets out a bone-shattering roar as it bounds its way out of the room.

“Excuse me,” I say as I take off after it and hear my mother touting Meg’s attributes to Everett in my wake.

I catch the beast’s bushy back as it stomps its way back into the kitchen.

Thank goodness. Maybe it’ll find that supernatural portal it climbed through and climb right back in. I’m sure somewhere in the nethersphere there is a Rainbow Bridge that would be happy to see him. And I, for one, will not be sorry to see him go. The fact he has the power to move solid objects is cause for sheer panic—and perhaps an FBI investigation. My God, if it keeps up with its tyranny, my mother will have every ghost hunter in the nation bursting down her door by morning. I have a feeling this is an incident where social media will not be her friend. Half those screaming girls were pecking at their phones when I left the room.

The kitchen is strangely quiet, and I step in just in time to see the furry beast hit the exit. It turns my way one final time and lets out a bloodcurdling howl before scampering for the woods behind the B&B.

“Thank God Almighty.” I steal a moment to breathe a sigh of relief. No sooner do I take a step toward the door to shut it than my foot catches on something. I glance down, and a scream gets locked in my throat.

Lying facedown in her seven-layer birthday cake is Eve Hollister.

And I’m willing to bet she is dead as a doornail.