Cooking Up Trouble: An Angie Amalfi Mystery (Angie Amalfi Mysteries)
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Chef Angie Amalfi can't wait to take off from the city for a week to help devise a delicious vegetarian menu for a lovely new B&B in scenic northern California. The not-yet-open-for-business Hill Haven Inn will be the perfect place to take her budding romance with her homicide detective boyfriend Paavo to the next level! But the situation awaiting them turns out to be less than ideal—with battling investors, rumors of ghosts, cold drafts, a leaky roof . . . and an owner whose idea of haute cuisine might be acceptable for farm animals. And when a furious rainstorm traps everyone inside, it becomes painfully apparent that there's a murderer among them . . . and that the only recipe being concocted in the Hill Haven kitchen is one for disaster. But Angie's determined to solve the case and salvage her romantic getaway . . . or die trying!
hair seemed to float, disembodied, in the room. “Angie,” Chelsea called from the back of the library. “Come over here. You’ve got to see Jack Sempler’s portrait.” Her gaze turned lovingly upward to the portrait that hung over the mantel. A handsome young man stood on the cliff near Hill Haven. He wore tan riding britches and a white shirt with wide, billowing sleeves and a high stand-up collar unbuttoned at the top. His thick auburn hair was slightly tousled by the wind, and his large,
“I understand.” “Good.” He looked relieved. “At least you had company to keep your vigil.” His gaze followed her as she returned to the dressing room to find nylons and underwear, and stayed with her as she carried them back into the bedroom. “You little snoop,” he said finally. “What’s the matter, Inspector, surprised that others around here know how to investigate?” “So that’s what’s wrong.” He walked to her side and turned her around to face him. She spun away and walked to the vanity,
would all be safe, but he also needed time with her. Time to remind her how much he cared. He hurried to their room. There were too many lost dreams in this house. Angie wasn’t a dream, though. She was vivid, more alive than any ten women he’d ever known. Despite all his most logical, rational pronouncements, he loved her. Bursting through the door, he stopped short, trying to appear nonchalant. She was there, looking all warm and cozy wrapped in a thick, snowy robe, seated in front of the
hear. Damn! Angie changed her clothes and had completed all the dinner preparations except for putting the soufflé in the oven when she began to gather everyone together. She wanted them in the dining room and seated before she served the soufflé. She found everyone but Moira. The others quickly grew anxious and worried over Moira’s absence. They were ready to go on a search for her when she burst into the house. “Paavo!” she cried. “Have you seen Danny? Was he with you?” “Who’s this Danny
others as well. I’ve got to find them.” He ran into the forest. Paavo had started toward the inn when he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his ears. He stopped and took a deep breath. Nothing like that had ever happened to him. He tried to go on, but his whole head was pounding so hard he could scarcely see. Ignore it, he told himself; he had to reach Angie. He stumbled forward, but it was no good. Blindly he put his hand out, groping until he found a tree for support. Leaning against it, he fought