JENN McKINLAY: I am heinously, woefully, shockingly behind on writing PUMPKIN SPICE PERIL (April 2020, hopefully, click the title to pre-order), the 12th cupcake bakery mystery. I have seriously never been this late on a book in my life. Probably it's because I got a wild hair and decided to pen a women's fiction book, PARIS IS ALWAYS A GOOD IDEA (July 2020), in the very small gap of time available between writing BURIED TO THE BRIM (Jan 2020 - on sale right now for $6.57, click the title to pre-order) and this cupcake mystery. But what can an author do?
When the muse yells, she yells LOUD! There was no other choice but to get the Paris book written.
Then, of course, the universe likes to pants you when you least expect it, and I came down with a couple of annoying health things that slowed me up as well. So here I am, trying my best to get PUMPKIN done, doing copyedits on BURIED, revisions of PARIS, researching ONE FOR THE BOOKS (Nov 2020), the next library mystery which is due Nov 1st, while promoting WORD TO THE WISE (Sept 3, 2019) and THE CHRISTMAS KEEPER (Oct 28, 2019). Click the picture captions to pre-order!
Pardon me a second while I go breathe into a paper bag. . . Okay, there, all better! Everything will get done. I'm not worried. Not a bit. Not at all. Everything is fine. Totally, fine!
So who wants an early looksee at the very, very rough opening chapter of PUMPKIN SPICE PERIL? If you're in, here it is:
Chapter One
“Hi, how can I help you?” Angie Harper asked the customer across the bakery counter. She had her lips pulled back in what should have been a smile but looked like a grimace instead.
Melanie Cooper glanced at her partner. Angie sounded weird as if she was forcing herself to be friendly when what she really wanted to do was reach across the counter and rip the person’s head off. Judging by the wary gaze of the customer, they weren’t buying the show of teeth either.
“You okay there, Ange?” Mel asked.
“Yes, of course, why wouldn’t I be?” Angie frowned.
Mel raised her hands in the air. “Just getting a vibe, an unhappy vibe, and I’m happy to step in if you need a sec.”
“Why would I need a sec? I’m fine, totally fine!” Angie insisted.
“Then why are you yelling?” Mel asked.
“This isn’t yelling!”
“Not for nothing, but over on this side of the counter it sounds like yelling,” the customer, a thirty-something man in khaki slacks and a festive Hawaiian shirt, said.
“I’m so sorry,” Angie said. It would have worked except, she said it in an exaggerated voice that made it clear she wasn’t sorry at all.
The customer glanced from her to Mel. “Maybe you can help me. I’d like some red velvet cupcakes, please.”
“Oh, sure, get someone else to help you,” Angie said. “Because I’m incompetent, is that it? Is that what you’re trying to say?”
The man pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows. He was obviously a smart guy, realizing there was no winning here.
“He might not say it, but I will.” A woman spoke up from the back of the line of people. She had gray hair, twisted into a topknot and she wore a chef’s coat in a bright shade of blue. Olivia Puckett.
“Oh, crud,” Mel said. Owner of a rival bakery, but also dating Marty Zelaznik, one of Mel’s employees, Olivia was the last person Angie needed to tussle with right now as the two women rubbed together about as well as static and hair. “Olivia, don’t poke the bear.”
Angie’s head swiveled in Mel’s direction. “Did you just call me a bear?”
“Um…well…affectionately,” Mel explained. “You know, like a teddy bear.”
“Or like a ginormous grizzly bear,” Angie said. “You think I’m fat!”
“Oh, my god.” Mel pressed the heels of her hands against her forehead as if it would keep her head from exploding. “You’re not fat. Honestly, what is going on with you today?”
“She looks hormonal to me,” Hawaiian shirt guy said.
“Ah!” Angie sucked in a breath. “I. Am. Not. Hormonal.”
“Nah, he nailed it,” Olivia chimed in.
Angie whipped around with a glower. “You hush.”
“Angie!” Mel hissed.
Olivia laughed and nudged the customer with her elbow. “If you want cupcakes without the drama, you can hit my bakery Confections. It’s just down the street.”
“Thanks, but I’m already here and I’ve got my eye on the red velvets,” he said. “I can wait out the pregger rage.”
Angie blinked. “What did you say?”
The man turned to look at her. “Pregger rage, you know, the unreasonable fury that comes with being pregnant. My wife was exactly like that when she was expecting our kids. We have four so I’ve been to this rodeo before.”
“But I’m not…” Angie’s voice trailed off. Her eyes went wide and then she clapped a handover her mouth and ran back into the kitchen.
“Vomiting,” the man called after her. “That’s another symptom.”
Mel glanced from him to the swinging door, behind which came the unmistakable sound of someone retching. As if they’d been shot out of a cannon, Mel’s two bakery workers, Marty Zelaznik and Oz Ruiz, blasted out of the kitchen.
“Don’t go back there!” Marty said. “It’s bad.”
“Really bad!” Oz confirmed.
Mel stared at the door. Was Angie really pregnant? She and her husband Tate had been trying for months. Did it finally take? She needed to call Tate for backup, but she didn’t want to blow it if it wasn’t true or if Angie wasn’t ready to tell him. Dilemma!
So, is she or isn't she? Tune in next April to find out!
And here's a sneak peek at the cover which just arrived in my inbox!
Now, how about you, Reds and Readers, have you ever had the muse yell so loudly that she upset your timetable and you created something you never anticipated?
