Bread of the Dead (Santa Fe Cafe Mystery #1)Release Date: September 29, 2015 by William Morrow
368 pages
About the Book:
The Day of the Dead is approaching in Santa Fe, New Mexico, and cook Rita Lafitte is busy decorating sugar skulls, taste-testing pan de muerto (bread of the dead), and refashioning her post-divorce life. She loves her job at Tres Amigas Cafe and feels like she’s found a good home for herself and her teenage daughter…until her kindly landlord is found dead next door, seemingly from suicide.Although Rita discovers evidence of murder, the police aren’t convinced, especially one of the lead detectives who’s also Rita’s ex-husband. To uncover the truth behind her friend’s death, Rita teams up with her octogenarian boss Flori, the town’s most celebrated snoop. Soon, their investigation encompasses other crimes, including break-ins and the murder of their number-one suspect. Rita won’t feel safe until the killer is caught. But when she unearths a long-buried secret, will she become the next victim?
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Excerpt
I love holidays, especially those with food, which is pretty much any holiday worth celebrating. I adore painting pants on gingerbread men and molding chocolate into bunnies, and I’ll jump at any excuse to make and eat pie. But right now, lugging a box of skulls across downtown Santa Fe, I wasn’t so sure aboutthis holiday. Perhaps it was the weather turning blustery and cold, or my friend Flori, who was starting to worry me. Or maybe it was all the bones. I’m not a big fan of bones, but you can’t have the Day of the Dead without them.
November first was a few days away and Santa Feans had decked out their adobe city in every manner of festive death décor, from painted skulls to dancing skeletons. I paused in front of a particularly elaborate window display, hoping to distract Flori from her complaints of the past several blocks.
“Check out this storefront, Flori,” I said to my elderly friend and boss. “There’s an entire wedding party plus a mariachi band. Impressive!”
I peered in at a diorama populated by Barbie-doll-sized skeletons. They strummed guitars, danced, drank, and laughed, their chalky white figures adorned in colorful flowers and formal attire. A wall of disembodied skulls watched over the joyfully macabre scene. Like the skulls I was carrying, they were made of sugar, water, and powdered meringue and decorated in rainbow swirls of icing.
Flori stopped beside me, setting down her bag and bumping her Harry Potter–style glasses against the windowpane. “Nice,” she said. “I do like a mariachi band. They make any event fun.”
Excerpt
I love holidays, especially those with food, which is pretty much any holiday worth celebrating. I adore painting pants on gingerbread men and molding chocolate into bunnies, and I’ll jump at any excuse to make and eat pie. But right now, lugging a box of skulls across downtown Santa Fe, I wasn’t so sure aboutthis holiday. Perhaps it was the weather turning blustery and cold, or my friend Flori, who was starting to worry me. Or maybe it was all the bones. I’m not a big fan of bones, but you can’t have the Day of the Dead without them.
November first was a few days away and Santa Feans had decked out their adobe city in every manner of festive death décor, from painted skulls to dancing skeletons. I paused in front of a particularly elaborate window display, hoping to distract Flori from her complaints of the past several blocks.
“Check out this storefront, Flori,” I said to my elderly friend and boss. “There’s an entire wedding party plus a mariachi band. Impressive!”
I peered in at a diorama populated by Barbie-doll-sized skeletons. They strummed guitars, danced, drank, and laughed, their chalky white figures adorned in colorful flowers and formal attire. A wall of disembodied skulls watched over the joyfully macabre scene. Like the skulls I was carrying, they were made of sugar, water, and powdered meringue and decorated in rainbow swirls of icing.
Flori stopped beside me, setting down her bag and bumping her Harry Potter–style glasses against the windowpane. “Nice,” she said. “I do like a mariachi band. They make any event fun.”
About the Author:
Ann Myers, her husband, and extra-large housecat live in Colorado but, like Rita, feel most at home in Santa Fe.
Ann Myers, her husband, and extra-large housecat live in Colorado but, like Rita, feel most at home in Santa Fe.
GIVEAWAY:
Three (3) copies of Bread of the Dead by Ann Myers (US)
Ends Oct. 28
Prizing is provided by the publisher, hosts are not responsible.
Prizing is provided by the publisher, hosts are not responsible.
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