Catering to Nobody (Goldy, Book 1) by Diane Mott Davidson

By Diane Mott Davidson

MEET THE CATERER WHO WHIPPED UP THE MULTIMILLION-COPY secret SERIES–AS GOLDY SOLVES HER FIRST MURDER!Diane Mott Davidson’s successful recipe of firstclass suspense and five-star fare has gained her and caterer Goldy severe raves and a standard position on significant bestseller lists around the kingdom. In Goldy’s tantalizing debut, she serves up a savory dish of secrets and techniques, suspicions, and murder....INCLUDING NEVER-BEFORE-PUBLISHED RECIPESCatering a wake isn't really Goldy’s thought of enjoyable. but the Colorado caterer throws herself into getting ready a savory ceremonial dinner together with Poached Salmon and Strawberry Shortcake Buffet designed to appease 40 mourners. And her culinary efforts appear to be precisely what the general practitioner ordered...until her ex-father-in-law gynecologist Fritz Korman is struck down and Goldy is accused of including poison to the menu. Now, with the dep. of healthiness impounding her leftovers, her ex-husband proclaiming her guilt, and her enterprise approximately to be close down, Goldy is familiar with she can’t watch for the police to serve up the solutions. She’ll quickly discover multiple kinfolk skeleton and a veritable stew of unpalatable secrets–the sort that may make Goldy the most path in an unsavory killer’s subsequent homicide!

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Or he would start a fight to demonstrate his opposition to my financial independence. And by demonstrate, I don't mean like Gandhi. In the walk-in I reached for the butter, eggs, and cream. I backed out and whacked the door with my foot, then regarded my balancing act in the mirror- black surface. Blond curly hair. Freckles on a face unbruised for three years. Brown eyes. These stared back at me, saying, Don't think about it now, just cook. At thirty I was doing okay, single but with good friends, and only slightly pudgy from all the fancy cooking that made the living for Arch and me.

The fabric on the furniture and several throw pillows was a print of spring flowers-periwinkle blue, kelly green, sunshine yellow. With the blue rug and rows of wooden shelves and cabinets, the big room was lively with color. Nowhere in sight were the browns and grays and blacks, the filth or lack of care one would expect of a suicidal personality. The three long tables ordered from Mountainside Rental lay piled like slabs of rock on the blue rug. They would all fit. We pushed the love seats and chairs into conversational groupings, then cracked open the tables and arranged them in a horseshoe shape.

I said, "Can we talk about it later? " I wedged the phone between my chin and shoulder and scraped the last of the scone-shortcake batter out. It made a sucking noise before plopping on the sheet. "The cookies can wait. My pantries are full, anyway. You're getting upset because we've been talking about you-know-who. " "Not to worry," I said. " Marla sighed. "Oh God, think of Laura. " I checked inside the proofing box; the dill rolls had risen. I snapped the other oven button to Preheat. I said, "I am thinking about it.

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