Plum Pudding Peril (MURDER IN THE MIX #50) by Addison Moore EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Addison Moore
- Language: English
- Genre: Thriller / Suspense
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 4.1 MB
- Price: Free
THE VICTIM
ONE HOUR FROM NOW…
The ugly sweater party at the Evergreen Manor is in full swing and
the grand ballroom is decorated to the hilt for the night.
Tinsel and garland drape every surface, along with mistletoe and
holly, while classic holiday tunes blare over the speakers. But it’s the
screams of laughter and the clinking of glasses brimming with spiked
eggnog that add the official merriment to the occasion.
Every last member of the Honey Hollow’s Purple Bonnet Society is
present and accounted for tonight. All of my friends, my foes, and everyone
in between. In truth, only a smattering of members ever miss a meeting. But
tonight, it’s a veritable who’s who of the witches who run this coven. Okay,
so that wasn’t very nice. I shouldn’t name-call, especially at this time of
year. But I can’t help it. This so-called society is made up of nothing but a
bunch of old gossips.
A tiny chuckle strums through me because I just so happen to be the
biggest gossip of them all. It’s a title I’ve gifted myself, and a position I
take quite seriously. Nobody is better at digging up dirt than yours truly.
Although to hear Miranda Lemon tell it, she’s convinced her daughter
Lottie takes the cake in the dirt-digging category. And the cake would be
baked by Lottie as well, seeing that she’s the town baker.
I swear, all Miranda Lemon does is brag about her children and their
children as well. Funny how little she brags about that daughter of hers who
runs the strip club.
I swallow down another laugh.
That’s right. I have the dirt on every last one of these yippy-bippy
bimbos running amok with gaudy gold garland roped around their necks
while making merry and bright.
I scan the women gathered here tonight with their vibrant purple Santa
hats and equally loud and atrocious ugly sweaters as they jingle and mingle
the night away.
I pour myself another glass of eggnog—spiked as previously
mentioned. I’m sure of it because I happened to spike it myself. After all,
there’s nothing a little spiced rum won’t cure. And if I play my spiked
eggnog cards right, I’ll manage to garner a few more secrets from these
cackling coots before the night is through.
That’s always the end game, always the goal. Money is fun, but gossip
is sweeter. Sure, money has given me power, but it’s the secrets that give
me the upper hand when I need them most. And I hold those secrets until
I’m good and ready to unleash them into the world.
And for one poor soul here tonight—or two or three poor souls—I think
it’s time to feed the machine again and get the gossip grapevine moving. I
do love to see my subjects squirm. And they have been squirming all night,
just begging me for mercy.
Here I stand, amidst the revelry, while nursing a glass of glorified rum,
my own sweater—an atrocious mix of green and gold—making me itchy as
can be.
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