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Monday, July 22, 2013

Teresa Trent Buzzkill Promo

Free Days

25 - 28

Teresa Trent

Cozy Mystery
Date: July 2013


Livingston is planning a wedding so what could go wrong? After
publishing a recipe for homemade calamine lotion in the newspaper,
the ladies in the community church make a large batch. Everyone loves
the stuff until someone in Pecan Bayou is found dead after using it.
The town points to Betsy and she starts rethinking her whole career
as a helpful hints columnist. Now she must clear her own name in
between dress-fitting, cake-tasting, and all those things that turn a
bride into a bridezilla. Is Betsy at fault or could there be
something else that leads her down the aisle to murder?


“Okay now, let’s
see.” Mr. Andre lowered his head, revealing the roots of his
mousse-spiked, bleached hair. He wore a dark maroon suit with a
matching jewel-toned silk shirt unbuttoned midway, showing sparse
hair on his skinny chest. “Do you have a photographer?”
“Yes,” I
“No,” Aunt
Maggie cut in. “She has some guy who shoots kiddie team pictures.”
“Oh my.” Andre
circled something on his clipboard. “No photographer.”
“And you’ve gone
for a wedding cake tasting?”
“A tasting? I
think I already know what vanilla and chocolate tastes like by now.”
Andre shook his head
as if I were a child. “No, my dear. You will be pleased to find out
there are other flavors like white amaretto, champagne – girl, you
can even get peanut butter if that’s what floats your boat. So I
take it you haven’t had a cake-tasting session?”
“You would be
correct,” I replied.
“I see.” He
circled another line. “And your flowers?”
“She’s using
Lenny Stokes, and she’s already put a deposit down,” Aunt Maggie
Andre grimaced.
“I see. I’ll
need his number and address so I can get in contact with him to put
him on my approved vendors list.” He circled another line. “And
what is the venue?”
“We are going to
have the ceremony at the community church.”
Andre’s eyebrows
raised as he nodded and smiled. I had finally done something right.
“Do you have any
kind of documentation on this?” he asked.
“Not officially,
no,” I said. “I have talked to the pastor about it, though and he
says it’s open. We live in a small town, Andre. Documentation isn’t
always required.”
“Mr. Andre,” he
“We just don’t
have the same kinds of waiting lists like there are in the big city.”
He clutched his hand
to his chest. “Well, that’s a relief.”
“And your
“We weren’t
going to send those out until mid-January. We were afraid people
would lose them. I have them ordered.” Mr. Andre’s eyes slanted
toward me. “Well, they’re not exactly ordered, but I do have them
picked out.”
A pause hung in the
air as Mr. Andre summoned up the strength to go on. “Are you sure
we’re planning a wedding and not some kind of country barbecue
where they cook a pig over a spit?” He clasped his hands together
in front of him to emphasize his point. “You are in crisis mode,
Madame Happy Hinter.”
I gulped. So maybe,
just maybe, I hadn’t nailed down enough of the details. I felt a
tear escape onto my cheek. Andre, used to overwhelmed brides, reached
over to a satin-covered tissue box and slapped it down on the table
in front of me.
“Dry your eyes,
sweetie. We’ve got work to do,” he said. “You should know what
a lucky girl you are. I just removed myself from a wedding on the
same day. No one – I repeat, no one – does a wedding like Mr.
Andre, but even I have my limits on troublesome brides and monster
mothers. As fate would have it, I’m yours.”
He walked over to a
filing cabinet and pulled out a large white leather binder. Mr.
Andre’s picture was on the front, and underneath that, “Weddings
Exclusively by Mr. Andre” was embossed in gold lettering.
“I don’t care
what religion you are,” he said. “This, lovey, is your new bible.
Carry this with you everywhere and fill it with notes, questions,
business cards, quotes and everything – I mean everything – that
has to do with your wedding. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” I
said and saluted before I could stop myself. Aunt Maggie broke out
into a laugh, but Mr. Andre turned quickly, fixing his eyes on her.
She quickly stifled her reaction and stood up a little straighter,
becoming just another draftee in the world of white satin.

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