Sally Muccio’s had her crosses to bear: a cheating ex-boyfriend, crazy Italian parents, and an unfaithful husband, just to name a few. After her divorce, she returns to her hometown to start a novelty cookie shop whose specialties include original fortune cookies, served with a sprinkle of foreshadowing. But there’s no warning when her ex-husband’s mistress drops dead on Sal’s porch, and police confirm it’s a homicide. Determined to stop her life from becoming a recipe for disaster, Sal takes matters into her own hands. With two very different men vying for her affection, dead bodies piling up, and a reputation hanging by an apron string, Sal finds herself in a race against time to save both her business and life—before the last cookie crumbles. *Recipes included!*
Targeted Age Group:: Over 18
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I have always been a huge fan of culinary mysteries, so I decided to write one. I also wanted to write about a heroine who had just been through a major rough patch in her life and determined to start everything anew. I think the overall effect worked well.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
My characters are all fictional. The heroine’s best friend is loosely based on someone very dear to me but other than that, the others are all victims of my over active imagination.
“I wonder if she’ll get a huge crowd at her funeral,” my father mused aloud as he stared at his painting. He was probably wondering if his service would be larger.
“Dad,” Gianna said. “Her mother is the town socialite. They have more money than God. Amanda owned the only spa around here. Even if people didn’t like her, they’ll still go to the wake, at least for her mother’s sake.”
He waved her off and studied the paper again. “When I go, I want my obituary to take up an entire page. You’ll write it, Gianna. You’ve always been good with words.”
“Dear Lord,” my grandmother muttered under her breath. “All you think about is death! It is like living with the Grim Reaper.”
Dad shot his mother-in-law a look of exasperation. “You should be thinking about it too, old lady. You’ve got at least ten years on me. You’re liable to go anytime.”
“Sei pazzo.” Grandma Rosa shook her head.
“You’re the one who’s crazy.” My father frowned at her. “I bet you don’t even have a burial plot yet.”
I groaned. “Enough, please? Can we stop talking about funerals for one night?”
“Poor sweetie.” My mother wrapped her arms around me as I stared, eyes pleading for help, at my grandmother.
“Stop smothering her, Maria.” Grandma Rosa walked into the kitchen. “Sally is not a baby anymore, for crying out loud. She is a grown woman.”
My father snorted as he reached for his wineglass. “A divorced woman. I knew you never should have married that bum. Now his tramp is dead. They’re ruining your life.”
I put my weary head in my hands.
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