The Death by Cupcake Series: Books 1 - 3, page 1
DEATH BY CUPCAKE SERIES
BOOKS 1 -3
BY D.E. HAGGERTY
Copyright © 2017 D.E. Haggerty
All rights reserved.
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
The Death by Cupcake Series boxed set includes the books Never Trust a Skinny Cupcake Baker, Bring Your Own Baker, and Self-Serve Murder. All books in the series are works of fiction. Names, characters, and events are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental. The incidents depicted are pure imagination.
Table of Contents
NEVER TRUST A SKINNY CUPCAKE BAKER
By D.E. HAGGERTY
Chapter 1
Whoever said ‘nothing tastes as good as skinny feels’ has never had cupcakes.
Chapter 2
Unless you fell off the treadmill and smacked your face, no one wants to hear about your workout.
Chapter 3
My Diet Plan: Make all of my friends cupcakes: the fatter they get, the thinner I’ll look…
Chapter 4
That awkward moment when you’re wearing Nikes and you can’t Just Do It.
Chapter 5
A balanced diet is a cupcake in each hand.
Chapter 6
Tell the negative committee that meets inside your head to sit down and shut up
Chapter 7
An apple a day will keep anyone away, if thrown hard enough.
Chapter 8
A recent study has found that women who carry a little extra weight live longer than men who mention it.
Chapter 9
Keep Calm. There’s nothing a cupcake can’t solve.
Chapter 10
“Wow, that Lean Cuisine really filled me up,” said no one, ever.
Chapter 11
Never judge a cupcake by its frosting.
Chapter 12
When stressed and in doubt, cupcake it out.
Chapter 13
According to this BMI chart, I’m too short.
Chapter 14
Stressed spelled backwards is desserts. Coincidence? I think not.
Chapter 15
I can’t solve my problems with cupcakes, but it sure makes me feel better.
Chapter 16
I wish I could lose weight as easy as I lose my mind.
Chapter 17
Celery is 95% water and 100% NOT PIZZA.
Chapter 18
Cupcakes don’t ask silly questions. Cupcakes understand.
Chapter 19
You can’t be sad when you’re holding a cupcake.
Chapter 20
I don’t drown my sorrows. I suffocate them with cupcakes.
Chapter 21
I can’t solve problems with cupcakes, but it sure makes me feel better.
Chapter 22
I never met a cupcake I didn’t like.
Chapter 23
Make cupcakes, not war.
Chapter 24
Procrastibaking: The art of making cupcakes instead of doing what you should be doing.
Chapter 25
It doesn’t matter if you win or lose; it’s how you bake the cupcake.
Epilogue
You are the icing on my cupcake.
BRING YOUR OWN BAKER
By D.E. HAGGERTY
Chapter 1
Start with a teaspoon of terror
Chapter 2
Mix in a dash of honesty
Chapter 3
Stir in some friendship
Chapter 4
Spoon in a heap of intruder
Chapter 5
Let the mixture rest until bubbling
Chapter 6
Beat in a bit of confusion
Chapter 7
Fold in a wallop of subterfuge
Chapter 8
Add a surprise visit
Chapter 9
Pour in a heaping tablespoon of Intervention
Chapter 10
Increase the heat until steaming
Chapter 11
Combine with a pinch of sneaking around
Chapter 12
Add in a hefty dose of annoyance
Chapter 13
Mix in an idea
Chapter 14
Combine with a bit of snooping
Chapter 15
Spoon in a surprise visit
Chapter 16
Weigh in a dollop of anger
Chapter 17
Beat in a game of chance
Chapter 18
Whip the mixture together until a hint of an idea appears
Chapter 19
Measure in an arrest record
Chapter 20
Throw in a bit of va-va-voom
Chapter 21
Whip until the mixture sizzles
Chapter 22
Throw in some male posturing
Chapter 23
Measure in a surprise girlfriend
Chapter 24
Pour in a pinch of attempted control
Chapter 25
Level a dose of scheming
Chapter 26
Cream together with a secret spy mission
Chapter 27
Turn up the heat
Chapter 28
Stir in some snooping
Chapter 29
Dust with a forced confession
Epilogue
Enjoy with the adult beverage of your choice
SELF-SERVE MURDER
By D.E. HAGGERTY
Chapter 1
Insert coffee to begin
Chapter 2
Coffeeology: Take life one cup at a time
Chapter 3
I’m pretty sure BC actually stands for ‘Before Coffee’
Chapter 4
OCD: Obsessive Coffee Disorder
Chapter 5
Oh goodie! It’s coffee o’clock!
Chapter 6
Too much Monday. Not enough coffee.
Chapter 7
Some girls just want to have fun. I just want to have coffee.
Chapter 8
I only need coffee on days ending with a y
Chapter 9
I’d stop drinking coffee, but I’m not a quitter.
Chapter 10
Coffee helps me person. Personing is hard without coffee.
Chapter 11
Coffee: Because crack is bad for you.
Chapter 12
A real prince brings coffee.
Chapter 13
I’m not addicted to coffee, we’re just in a committed relationship.
Chapter 14
I may not cry over spilled milk, but I’ll lose my freaking mind over spilled coffee.
Chapter 15
I’m just waiting to see if my coffee uses its power for good or evil today.
Chapter 16
“Be strong,” I whisper to my coffee.
Chapter 17
Of course, size matters. No one wants a small cup of coffee.
Chapter 18
On the bright side, my coffee will never get cold in hell.
Chapter 19
You can do it ~ whispered my coffee
Chapter 20
I’m tall, dark, and fantastic in the morning ~ says coffee.
Chapter 21
Just pour the coffee straight in.
Chapter 22
Procaffeinating: to delay or postpose actions; put off doing something until you’ve had your coffee.
Chapter 23
Any friend of coffee is a friend of mine.
Chapter 24
Coffee! You can sleep when you’re dead!
Chapter 25
Give me coffee and no one gets hurt.
Epilogue
Love is in the air and it smells like coffee!
NEVER TRUST A SKINNY CUPCAKE BAKER
By D.E. HAGGERTY
Synopsis
A cozy mystery with a heap of laughs, a generous portion of romance, and just a smidgeon of suspense.
Callie’s life is rather awesome. She owns a successful bakery and teaches German literature at the local university. There’s just one tiny problem. She has no self-confidence when it comes to her body. And then there’s the little matter of her being accused of murdering her pole dancing instructor. There’s no way Callie’s going to risk losing her teaching position and thus she embarks, with her best baker bud Anna, on a journey to discover the real killer. Between stripper auditions and a detective who insists Callie is the woman of his dreams, it’s a roller coaster adventure. Cupcakes not included.
Dedication
Why write my own dedication when Pink! says it so well?
You're so mean … when you talk …
About yourself. You were wrong.
Change the voices … in your head …
Make them like you instead.
Pink! F*ckin’ Perfect
Chapter 1
Whoever said ‘nothing tastes as good as skinny feels’ has never had cupcakes.
Anna bursts into the kitchen. “He’s here,” she gasps. The swingi
I look up from the tray of cupcakes I’m icing and raise my eyebrows at her. “Who is it exactly that is here?” The question isn’t necessary. I know precisely who she’s talking about. Even though my heart rate nearly doubles in response to her announcement, I act unaffected and return to my beloved cupcakes.
“Detective Hottie,” she breathes out.
Sigh. Detective Hottie, as Anna so affectionately calls him, is the police detective who she’s been trying to hook me up with since my latest relationship crashed and burned. There’s not really anything left to fight for in a relationship when a boyfriend tells his supposed girlfriend he won’t have sex with her until she loses at least twenty pounds and then walks out.
“Stop thinking about that jerk face,” Anna grits out. There are definitely disadvantages to working with your best friend. She can totally read my mind and doesn’t bother to even try to not use her knowledge against me. I never should have told her that her pink hair was cute on the first day of junior high when the other kids were teasing her.
My best friend doesn’t allow me time for contemplation. She grabs my elbow and starts lugging me towards the store front. There’s no way she could drag me if I didn’t let her. Anna’s not even five feet tall and, with her bright pink spiky hair, easily confused with a pixie. The girl doesn’t even weigh enough to donate blood – let alone drag a heifer like me across my kitchen. I set my pastry bag down on the nearest table and push my glasses up the bridge of my nose before turning to the crazy baker.
“You don’t have to drag me, I’m going already,” I whisper-shout. It’s not like I don’t want to go out there. Of course, I do. Any red-blooded American woman wants to be up close to Detective Hottie. But he’s completely and totally out of my league. Doesn’t matter to Anna, though. In the past two months since my boyfriend walked out on me, she’s become relentless in her goal to hook me up with the detective. The last time I refused to serve him; she crushed a cupcake onto my head. I was washing out frosting for days. And isn’t that a waste?
I push open the door separating the kitchen from the café area and smile up at Ben. I’m not exactly short at five feet five inches, but Ben is easily six feet. And like the nickname Detective Hottie indicates, he’s hot. Like hotter than the bakery kitchen even when Anna’s been baking for hours with all the ovens on go. His brown eyes remind me of melted chocolate ganache and he has the sweetest dimple on his left cheek. And he’s built. He probably weighs 200 pounds, but it’s all muscle on this man. He must get his suits tailor-made. There’s no way an off-the-rack suit can fit his wide shoulders and biceps, which are too big for my hands to wrap around. Time to stop staring and serve the man.
“Good morning, Ben. How are you?” I just manage not to swoon as I stare into his dark brown eyes that are twinkling as if he knows how hard of a time I’m having.
“I’m great now that I’m looking at your beautiful face.” I roll my eyes at him. “How are things with you, sweetheart?” I may not be in Ben’s league, but whose heart wouldn’t skip a beat at being called sweetheart by this man?
I ignore his question. “What can I get you, Ben?”
“Just a coffee, honey. I’m running late.”
I quickly turn to the coffee machine and make Ben an extra-large serving. I hand it to him in a to-go cup, and he starts to pull out his wallet. I immediately pull the coffee away. “You know your money’s no good here,” I state, daring him to try to pay. All the boys (and girls for that matter) in blue drink for free at Callie’s Cakes. It’s a tradition started by the former owner and, in honor of that wonderful woman, I’ve kept the tradition going.
Ben doesn’t put his wallet away. Instead, he pulls out a five dollar bill and puts it into the tip jar, which is actually a piggy bank in the shape of a cupcake. After he puts his wallet away, he looks at me and raises an eyebrow as if daring me to say anything. I don’t agree with a five dollar tip on a two dollar cup of coffee, and he knows it. I’m not in the mood to argue today though. I shrug instead and hand him his coffee. My traitor fingers tingle as he deliberately brushes my hand as he grabs the cup.
“Be safe out there,” I say and start to turn away.
But Ben doesn’t let me off the hook that easy. “When are you finally going to let me take you out, Callie?”
I cross my arms over my chest and stare him down. We’ve been having this argument for a year now. It’s getting tedious. That’s a total lie. What it really is, is getting more and more difficult to say no to him. I shake my head. “I’d say the statistical probability is zero.”
Ben shakes his head. “I never did like statistics.”
“You don’t want to date me, Ben.”
He smiles that devastating smile; the one where his dimple shows. “I’ve been asking you out nearly every day for a year now. Does that sound like a man who doesn’t want to date you?”
I ignore his question and prod him to leave instead. “Thought you were running late.”
He looks down at his watch and mutters a few choice swear words under his breath. “Til tomorrow then,” he says and salutes me with his coffee cup before stalking out of the place.
I head into the kitchen, but Anna’s blocking me. She’s standing there with her hands on her hips, full of attitude. I don’t bother trying to push past her. The pixie may not be able to stop me, but she’ll grab onto me and wrap herself around me like an anaconda snake if she thinks it’s necessary. Instead, I walk out from behind the display cases and start gathering the used mugs and trash from the tables. The bakery isn’t big, but we have enough room for seven tables and their accompanying seats. There’d be more room if I hadn’t updated the area with comfy armchairs and loveseats. I want customers to be comfortable and stick around – although the free Wi-Fi code customers get with a purchase only lasts for thirty minutes. I may have studied German literature instead of business, but that doesn’t mean I’m completely devoid of business savvy.
“Why don’t you give Ben a chance? He’s hot!” Anna practically shouts across the bakery. The morning rush may have come and gone, but the place is never empty. Being close to the University means we have college kids lounging around the place at all times of the day. The chatter immediately stills, and everyone looks at me. I blush and shake my head. I grab my tray and rush into the back of the bakery with Anna on my heels.
I put down my tray and turn on her. “What is wrong with you? You may be my best friend but don’t you dare do that again!” I hiss at her and turn back to load the dishes before I say something I’m going to regret.
I feel a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Callie.” She takes a deep breath. “But seriously? Why don’t you go out with him?”
I hang my head. She’s not going to stop until I talk to her. “Look at me, Anna. I’m no one’s ideal date.” I indicate my size fourteen body with sweep of my hand. “I don’t want a pity date.”
Anna snorts. “You’re an idiot.” I start to respond, but she throws her hand up like a stop sign. “You may have a PhD Dr. Muller, but you are completely clueless when it comes to men. That man thinks you’re hot. He’s been asking you out for a year! He’s not looking for a pity date.”
I sigh and shake my head. She’s not exactly impartial. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not ready to date again anyway.”
“That jerk of an ex did a number on you,” she mutters and moves away. I think I’ve finally managed to escape her inquisition for the day, but in no time she’s back waving a flyer in my face. “So,” she says and hands me the piece of paper, “I’ve got the solution for you.”
I look down at the flyer she shoved into my hands and immediately start shaking my head. “No way.” I put my hands up in self-defense and start to back away. “I am not doing a pole dancing course. I’d break the freaking pole!”
My pushy assistant isn’t taking no for an answer. “No, you won’t. Anyway, I already signed us up and paid for the course.”
“Why pole dancing? Are you trying to humiliate me? I can’t be sexy.”
Anna growls. “You can be sexy! What am I saying? You are sexy! You just need some self-esteem and that’s why we’re learning to pole dance.” She turns and heads back to the café, but just before she’s gone, she glances over her shoulder. “The first class is tonight at quarter to five.”
“Quarter to five! I don’t have time to get to my apartment for clothes.” The bakery closes at four each afternoon, but I usually need an additional half an hour or so to get things cleaned up and in order for the next morning.
