Peppermint and Poison

When a flaming dead body drops out of the town Christmas tree and crashes through your ceiling, it’s safe to say this Christmas will not be merry or bright.
Now my crazy ex-best friend is telling everyone in town I killed Dr. Merriweather.
Yes, he’s her therapist.
Yes, they were having an affair.
No, I don’t know why everyone in our Christmas crazy small town thinks I’m suspect number one.
She even hired a private eye.
Like…hello? Insane?
He shows up all tall and broad shouldered, wearing a trench coat and a fedora—Barf!
And accuses me of lying to cover my tracks.
Like I have time to orchestrate a murder.
I just want to sell holiday treats, keep my café from going under, and survive December without anyone else getting set on fire.
But when your business, reputation, and holiday spirit are on the line, you do what any self-respecting small-town baker does—sharpen your candy cane, hunt down a killer, and try not to kiss the man who thinks you’re a murderer.
And when more bodies start piling up? I know we’re going to have a murderous little Christmas.