Booked for Revenge

Book 2: Tomes & Tea Mystery Series

by Karen Rose Smith

Genres: Amateur Sleuth; Cozy Mystery; Mystery; Culinary Cozy Mysteries

Synopsis

Following in her mother Daisy’s footsteps, Jazzi Swanson has transformed her rural New York bookshop and tea bar, Tomes & Tea, into a must-stop destination in the lakeside resort town of Belltower Landing, New York, where, in addition to her talent for tea, Jazzi has shown a skill for sleuthing when trouble is brewing . . .

The Gentleman’s Bake-off is not only good for the town’s tourism, it’s bound to boost business at Tomes & Tea. The celebrity judges of the contest—chefs, bakers, restauranteurs—will all be signing their cookbooks at Jazzi’s shop. But with all the big personalities and inflated egos, she’s starting to wonder if there are—as the saying goes—too many cooks.
 
The competition is far from killer, with mostly residents and neighbors vying for bragging rights. But when local photographer Finn Yarrow takes first place, someone commits a most ungentlemanly act. Jazzi’s partner Dawn finds the man bludgeoned next to his prizewinning Black Forest Cake.
 
Between the judges and the contestants, the bookshop shop owner soon finds herself steeped in suspects as she tries to solve the crime. Was the murder connected to the bake-off—or did the shutterbug perhaps photograph something he shouldn’t have? Either way, Jazzi is determined to find a killer who’s trying to have their cake and eat it too . . .

Release date: April 29, 2025

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

Jazzi Swanson often met friends at the food trucks near Belltower Landing’s marina. Pontoon boats, day cruisers, and sailboats came and went from the many slips on this side of Lake Harding. With blue sky up above, aromas from falafels, stuffed waffles, pad Thai, and tacos drifted toward the marina and community center on this first day of August. However, she hadn’t assembled with the crowd for street food.

Her fit and flare coral sundress lapped above her knees as she approached the judges’ table for the special weekend event—Belltower Landing’s Gentlemen’s Bake-off. She smoothed her low ponytail that was cinched over her shoulder with a butterfly clip. She’d wanted to keep her long black hair in check in case wind from the lake was high.

Her business partner and best friend Dawn Fernsby rushed over to her. Dawn’s short brown hair streaked with blond blew away from her high part and covered her eyes. She brushed her bangs over her brow.

“We could have a problem,” Dawn warned. “I’m not sure these judges get along. Emmaline and Griffin have been squabbling as long as I’ve been here. What if they cause a scene during their book signing?”

The book signing event at Jazzi and Dawn’s store, Tomes & Tea, had been planned to bring tourism to the resort town as well as more visibility for their bookshop and tea bar. “Maybe it’s the crowd that’s making them antsy. Or the sun beating down on them. I understand tomorrow a canopy will be set up over the judges’ table,” Jazzi said.

Jazzi studied the boardwalk that stretched from in front of the community center to the area around the marina and boat supply store. August heat in the mideighties danced off the boards as the crowd waited for the mayor’s announcements about the weekend bake-off that would mostly take place at the community center.

The judges’ table was covered with a yellow tablecloth. Royal blue swags decorated the front, and name placards large enough to be read from a distance identified the four well-known names from the culinary world.

Suddenly, Emmaline Fox, a famous scone baker now living in Ithaca, pushed herself up from her seat at the judges’ table and faced down Griffin Pelham, a popular TV chef who was all over one of the home shopping networks selling his cookware.

Emmaline jabbed her pointer finger at Griffin, who’d risen too. Close to the head of the table, Jazzi heard Emmaline clearly as she berated Griffin in a strident voice.

“You know Shop Time is detrimental to the public, who doesn’t need even half of what you’re selling!”

“C’mon, Emmaline,” Griffin snapped. “You realize I’m making money the good ole American way. You’ve been on my case for the past half hour. Let it go.” His voice had risen too, and now some of the crowd had turned in the chefs’ direction instead of eyeing the dais, where the mayor had taken his position at the microphone.

Jazzi and Dawn were concerned about all the judges at the table getting along amicably because they’d written cookbooks and would be signing them at Tomes & Tea after this initial introduction to the Gentlemen’s Bake-off. The plan was to escort the judges to the bookshop after the mayor’s introductions. Jazzi would rather have smooth waters to sail than rippling ones.

As Jazzi’s thoughts careened around the idea of a tempestuous book signing, Emmaline and Griffin were still going at it. Emmaline’s face, which was almost beet red, was a striking contrast to her almost-white curly hair. She was in her seventies, and Jazzi was afraid the older woman could have a heatstroke. Griffin was in his forties, fit and energetic, and could keep going with his word salad all day.

Stepping practically between them, Jazzi hoped to act as a buffer. With her hand at Emmaline’s elbow to stop her flow of complaints, Jazzi suggested to Griffin, “Why don’t you explain the benefits of your scone pan to Ms. Fox? It could make her baking easier.”

Just as Emmaline sat again and Griffin opened his mouth, the mayor took his position at the microphone.

Rupert Harding, a descendant of Phineas J. Harding, who had founded Belltower Landing, liked to be the center of attention. With his white-and-gray, expensively styled hair making his round face even rounder, he wore a chartreuse-colored shirt, white cargo slacks, and moccasins. By his side stood his thirty-something nephew Charles, who as chief of staff stuck to his uncle like the proverbial glue.

“Gather round,” Rupert invited the crowd as the mike made a squealing noise. After Charles adjusted the mike and the feedback ended, Rupert continued. “Welcome to our Gentlemen’s Bake-off. Our judges whittled our recipe entrants down to twelve. I certainly hope these men know how to bake the recipes their wives or girlfriends submitted.”

Everyone around Jazzi tittered. The mayor tried to be a comedian. Sometimes it worked.

“The preliminary round judging of ten entrants will happen in our community center’s own kitchen tomorrow morning. At noon, our judges will choose six men to go forward. Tomorrow late afternoon, the final four will be singled out from those six. Those four will go head-to-head on Sunday.”

The mayor went on to explain the tier of prizes for the finalists. Then he introduced the judges.

Jazzi was only half-heartedly listening to the mayor as Dawn leaned into her. “Erica texted me that everything is ready at Tomes. But look at Emmaline Fox. I don’t know if she’ll be able to walk to the store.”

Already introduced, Emmaline was fanning herself with a flyer that had been publicity for the bake-off. She was still flushed.

Jazzi took a closer look at Emmaline. “Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea for the judges to walk to Tomes.”

Dawn brushed a bead of perspiration from her forehead. “The mayor thinks that’s the best way to showcase the storefronts on Lakeview Boulevard, especially if reporters are following and taping. Delaney set it up.”

Their friend Delaney Fabron was a public relations specialist and had worked closely with the mayor on this event.

“Still . . . We don’t want Emmaline to collapse or worse. Let me talk to Charles,” Jazzi suggested.

As the mayor extolled the accomplishments of each of the four judges, Jazzi caught Charles Harding’s eye and beckoned to him.

After glancing at his uncle, he hurried to Jazzi’s side. “What?” he snapped.

Jazzi lifted her chin toward Emmaline, who had stooped to remove something from her large red designer tote bag. She’d plucked out what looked like a battery-powered fan and secured it on her neck. Jazzi could see Emmaline’s hair moving.

“I think Emmaline will need a ride to Tomes. With her cane and this heat, she might not be up to the walk.”

Charles glanced at Emmaline, then his uncle. “She shouldn’t have agreed to judge if she can’t sit through the judging or walk a few blocks.” As the mayor’s gatekeeper, Charles could be tactless and snarky.

“Her reputation has brought us publicity,” Jazzi pointed out. “She is a renowned scone baker.” Jazzi knew Charles studied the bottom line, whether in business or politics.

He gave a sigh and adjusted the neckline of his polo shirt. “All right. We don’t want anyone collapsing. That wouldn’t be a good look. Too many reporters around. I’ll provide the gallantry and drive her myself. I’ll alert that Landing reporter who’s covering the bake-off. She wants an exclusive on the judging—first to know and all that.”

After another look at the dais, he took his phone from its belt holster, typed in something, and hurried to the mayor.

Fifteen minutes later, Jazzi and Dawn were leading the judges and a group of tourists and residents of Belltower Landing down the tree-lined boulevard to their bookstore.

“I had no idea we’d act as pied pipers,” Colleen Cross whispered to Jazzi as they walked.

Colleen, pastry chef at the Dockside Bakery and one of the judges, motioned behind her to the troops of spectators who followed them. Colleen had pixie-cut hair and plenty of freckles, making her look younger than her forty-plus years.

Griffin Pelham, who strode beside them, acerbically commented, “Let’s just hope they all buy books to make this weekend worthwhile. I gave up an appearance on Shop Time to be here.”

Colleen gave Griffin a sharp, chastising look.

“What?” he demanded. “You’re here for the same reason, though your little cookbook doesn’t stand up to the other judges’ books, including mine.”

Jazzi watched Colleen suck in a breath. She had worked hard to open her bakery in this resort town, and her drive made it flourish. Her cookbook was a compilation of recipes for her most popular baked goods. Granted, it wasn’t as large and glossy as Diego Alvarez’s, the fourth judge and a restaurateur from New York City who vacationed in Belltower Landing, but her cookbook sold well too because her bakery was right at hand.

A male voice in the bevy of people behind them announced loudly, “Pelham’s cookbook was probably written by a ghost chef. All he knows how to cook is rare steak!”

Griffin stopped for a moment, and Jazzi was afraid he was about to confront the pedestrian in the shorts and red backward baseball cap, but then he started walking again. On his Shop Time television slots, he often did cook steak to tout his cookware.

Jazzi exchanged a long look with Dawn. They understood each other. Not only partners and best friends, they were roommates too, sharing the apartment above Tomes & Tea. Their telepathic message to each other was clear—this weekend could become more complicated than they’d planned.

Changing the subject from Griffin’s TV appearance, Colleen asked Jazzi, “Do you know any of the contestants in the bake off? I understand about half are residents and half are tourists.”

“A few of the men stop in at Tomes & Tea. Abe Ventrus is an EMT and firefighter,” Jazzi said.

Colleen nodded. “He comes into my bakery now and then. He cooks for the fire station.”

Dawn leaned close to Jazzi. “Abe is hot. And not just when he’s dressed in fire gear.”

Jazzi had to admit he was handsome in a rough-hewn, muscled way.

“I know Finn Yarrow,” Dawn added, loud enough for Colleen to hear. “He’s a photographer and videographer. He comes in to Tomes and worked at the weddings of a few friends.”

Jazzi knew Finn too, at least to recognize him. He often sipped tea and studied coffee table books.

The rest of the stroll to the bookstore was uneventful. Everyone walked, chatted, and simply enjoyed the beautiful August day.

When they reached the store, Jazzi opened the door wide to let everyone pass by her and walk in. Once inside herself, she saw that her assistant, Erica Garcia, was settling Emmaline at the book-signing table. In preparation for the signing, Erica had set up a long table with enough room for all four judges to sit with their stacks of books beside them. Wearing her cobbler apron with the Tomes & Tea logo—a teapot sitting on a stack of books—Erica leaned close to Emmaline and handed her a bottle of water.

Erica was the perfect person to see that Emmaline had everything she needed. Erica’s shoulder-length wavy hair was dark brown with strands of gray. After all, she did have three kids, two teen sons in high school now. Erica liked to mother everybody, and her sparkling bright eyes were filled with warmth and compassion. Her daughter, Audrey, helped out at Tomes, and she was making certain the other three judges were settled in too. In no time at all customers had lined up to have their books signed. A short time later, Jazzi and Audrey were working at the desk while Dawn circulated to make sure everything stayed on track.

After the first flush of customers had passed through the line, Erica showed Emmaline to the powder room. Jazzi had stopped at the table to make sure each judge had a solid stack of books. There, she heard Griffin say to Diego, “Emmaline’s too old to be participating in this kind of an event. Just because she can still bake scones in her home kitchen doesn’t mean she should participate in PR events. She can hardly walk with that cane.”

Diego Alvarez, with his thick black hair smoothed back, his wide smile, and sparkling coffee-colored eyes, hadn’t been overly chatty since the event began. He seemed professional in every look, gesture, and smile. From what Jazzi had heard, he ran his New York City restaurant with aplomb and was a financial success along with the restaurant’s success, having a reputation for superb cuisine.

Leaning toward Griffin, he arched his brows. His voice held the wise timbre of experience. “Emmaline is only seventy-one. She has a lot of good years ahead of her. We should all wish we were doing something we love at her age.”

Jazzi felt like applauding. Apparently, Diego was chivalrous too. She had to admit, a little bit of chivalry went a long way.

As Emmaline returned to the table and Erica made sure she was comfortable, Dawn sidled up to Jazzi. “How would you like to join me and my family on the pontoon boat for a Monday evening cruise? It will be a good break after the bustle of the weekend.”

Jazzi liked that idea, but she asked, “Are you sure your parents are inviting me and not just you?”

Earlier in the summer Dawn’s parents had wanted Dawn to sell her share of Tomes & Tea. But since Jazzi, Dawn, and their book club friends had suggested ideas that were making the bookstore more profitable, the Fernsbys had been slightly friendlier with Jazzi. The bottom line, though, was they were still leery that Jazzi would influence Dawn in her personal life, not simply in bookstore business. In college, Jazzi had met Dawn at a group for adoptees. They’d connected immediately, becoming fast friends. Jazzi had searched for her birth parents. Dawn hadn’t . . . yet. Dawn’s parents didn’t want Jazzi to influence Dawn to take that step.

“They asked me to invite you,” Dawn assured her. “We’ll have a good time with the wind in our hair and waves making the boat rock.”

Jazzi laughed. “I’d love to come. It’s definitely something to look forward to, besides getting home to the kittens.” She had found a kitten under their deck, and then she and Dawn had adopted that kitten’s sister too. So they had the playful duo around the apartment constantly, giving them belly laughs and a chance to feel like kids again.

Keeping her eye on Emmaline, Jazzi could see she was in her element. Whatever squabble the scone baker had had with Griffin was eclipsed by her love of talking with anyone who wanted a signed copy of Scones Meant for a King, which explained basic baking techniques as well as recipes. Jazzi would ask Emmaline to sign a copy that Jazzi had purchased for her mother. Her mom and her aunt ran Daisy’s Tea Garden in Pennsylvania and baked a lot.

Jazzi was appreciating the few minutes lull at the register, watching customers take selfies with the judges, when her phone vibrated from the pocket of the Tomes & Tea shop apron she’d donned after she’d returned to the store.

Charles Harding’s number was on her display. “Hi, Charles. The signing is going well. The public seems excited about the bake-off.”

“We’ve put a lot of money and effort into this. It had better pay off.” He always seemed to be in a gruff mood. Charles constantly searched for publicity to promote the resort town.

“I’m calling about an immediate problem,” he said. “Griffin, Colleen, and Diego can reach where they’re staying on foot. But Emmaline can’t. She actually took an Uber to come here from Ithaca. Something about her car needing repair. Can you make sure she’s transported to the Starboard Resort and Golf Center safely and settles in? The town was booked up for the weekend, and that was the only place that had a suite that met her needs. Her luggage is already there. I’m just too busy to be chauffeuring her.”

He seemed to be waiting for Jazzi’s response because he sighed and asked, “Well, Jazzi, can you do it?”

“Belltower Landing does have Uber service,” she reminded him, thinking of the cleanup after the book signing.

“That’s so impersonal. After all, you wanted Emmaline at your store for the book signing.”

He had a point. She appreciated the time all the judges were giving Tomes & Tea. Emmaline would probably not be comfortable in Jazzi’s MINI Cooper, but Dawn’s SUV would probably suit for the drive to the Starboard Resort.

“All right, Charles. Dawn and I will take good care of Emmaline.”

As soon as she’d agreed, Charles ended the call with a “Great” rather than a thank you.

She had the feeling this was going to be a long weekend.

Jazzi glanced around Tomes & Tea as she often did to make sure all customers were being helped, not just those at the signing table. Erica stood at the seaglass blue cubicles that were lit by neon blue and green LED lights, helping a customer at the sailboat section. The store’s staff had eliminated two of their round tables with the enamel chairs in various colors in order to make room for the judges’ table. Jazzi and Dawn tried to keep the shop bright and cheery during all four seasons in New York State.

As Jazzi studied the tea bar, the Sputnik chandelier illuminated the baked goods case as well as the bar where Audrey was serving tea. Audrey was a pet sitter most of the time, but she supplemented her income by working at Tomes & Tea.

The door to the bookshop opened and Delaney Fabron stepped inside. She met Jazzi at the sales desk. “How’s it going?”

“It seems to be going well. The rush of customers is dwindling but it’s still busy.”

Delaney’s smile lit up her face. She was usually sophistication personified, with her uneven, wispy hairstyle and false eyelashes. She was a regular member of the Tomes & Tea book club. “Did the mayor stop in?” she asked.

“No. In fact, Charles asked me to take Emmaline to her hotel after the book signing.”

“I imagine they’re busy coordinating everything at the community center for tomorrow, including bringing in convection ovens to accommodate the entrants. The mayor is determined this event will go off without a hitch. But events like this always have a snag.”

“Why?” Jazzi asked.

Delaney shrugged. “We’re integrating different promotions. The Spatula Palace stocked up on Griffin’s cookware.”

The kitchen shop was everyone’s favorite for gourmet items, special seasonings, and everyday cookware. “I heard Griffin is making an appearance there later today,” Jazzi said.

“Yep, he’s on the move as much as he can be.”

Just then, Griffin stood from his chair and glared down at Emmaline. Jazzi heard him say in a loud voice that everyone could hear, “You don’t have to degrade me in front of my customers.”

“I can’t help it,” Emmaline shot back. “Your customer is complaining about one of your pans. Maybe you should fix whatever the problem is.”

Griffin walked off in a huff and headed toward the door.

“Those two have been squabbling all morning,” Jazzi said. “I’m not sure what to do about it except separate them at the judges’ table. But I didn’t want to embarrass either of them.”

“Maybe you could find a more comfortable chair for Emmaline and move her to the other end of the table. Just tell her she’ll have more room there. I don’t know if it will work, but you can try it.” Delaney’s last words sounded after her as she headed toward Griffin.

Jazzi beckoned to Erica and her salesclerk came over to her. She explained what she wanted to do. “Let’s just separate Emmaline and Griffin,” she said in a whisper. “It might help. Delaney is going to keep him from leaving, I hope. I’ll bring my desk chair from the break room. If you could gather up Emmaline’s stack of books, I think that will work.”

By the time Delaney had convinced Griffin to return inside, the changes had been made. He seemed grateful to be sitting between Colleen and Diego, rather than next to Emmaline. Jazzi wondered how Emmaline could get on his nerves so completely. Maybe she reminded him of his mother? So many feelings swirled around the subject of mothers.

Because Jazzi had been adopted, she’d held questions in her heart about her birth parents while she was growing up. When her dad died and her mom moved her and her sister to Willow Creek, Pennsylvania, where she had been born and bred, Jazzi had decided to search for her birth mother. At fifteen, she’d been successful with her mother’s help. But juggling her mom and her birth mom’s relationships had been a struggle at times. Her mom had tried to make it easier for her by being cooperative, compassionate, and encouraging the bonds. But how could it be easy? Not possible.

Jazzi had a good relationship with them both now. She’d been to Willow Creek for a few days last month. It had been good catching up with her mom and stepdad and the rest of her family. Still, she found she needed to keep a bit of distance between Belltower Landing and her former life in Willow Creek. After all, at twenty-five, she should be on her own and deciding her own life’s course, shouldn’t she?

Delaney stayed for the next half hour, making sure everything was running smoothly. At one point Jazzi teased her, saying, “The mayor might hire you for his office to help with public relations and brainstorm further promotions for Belltower Landing.”

Delaney considered the idea. “I like working for myself, and I don’t know if I’d want him as a boss. But this Gentlemen’s Bake-off seems to be more popular than if professional chefs were competing. It was a good idea. I do come up with them now and then.”

Jazzi was straightening one of the stand-alone bookshelves, surreptitiously watching the cookbook authors sign books, when the bell announcing another customer walking in took her attention. She looked up and her heart skipped a beat.

The man who had just walked in was Oliver Patel. He owned The Wild Kangaroo pub and had a superb Australian. . .