Présentation de l'éditeur
Someone is cheesed off . . .
Providence, Ohio, is celebrating Valentine’s Day with weeklong events, including lovers’ baskets with heart-shaped cheeses at Fromagerie Bessette. Charlotte Bessette is celebrating by finally walking down the aisle with the man of her dreams, handsome artisanal cheese farmer, Jordan Pace. But when a beloved bar owner is discovered murdered on Jordan’s farm, he believes they should reschedule their wedding given the grim turn of events.
Charlotte is heartsick over the postponement. This killer crossed the wrong woman. No one, but no one, is ruining her wedding plans!
Extrait
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
CHAPTER
“Where are you taking me?” I asked. “And don’t ‘Hush, Charlotte’ me again.” I hate being blindfolded, hate not being able to see. Even as a girl, I despised it. I remembered one time when my oh-so-sly cousin coerced me into following him into a cave. We encountered shrieking bats and spiders and—ick—something creepy-crawly with a long tail that skittered across my foot.
“Hush, Charlotte,” Delilah said. The moment I’d arrived home from work, she and Meredith, my other best friend, had kidnapped me.
“It’s Thursday night, for heaven’s sake. I’ve got to open Fromagerie Bessette early tomorrow. We have so much to do to prepare for next week’s Lovers Trail event before I—”
“We’re going to a party.”
“A bachelorette party,” Meredith added.
“Yours.” Delilah pushed me at the small of my back. “Now, move it.”
“Look.” I tried to dig in my heels, to no avail. “I’d be game for whatever you have up your sleeves if I didn’t have things to do.”
Tons of things: decorations to put up and gift baskets to create for the Lovers Trail event. Not to mention all the things I needed to do for my impending nuptials: a hem to stitch, boutonnieres to fashion. Did my sweet friends care? Not a whit. They were giggling too hard to care about anything.
A brisk gust of February wind attacked me. I shivered from the cold. “Where are we?” I demanded. Delilah had escorted me out of her car a minute ago; we were on foot. On cement. A sidewalk, I was pretty sure. I heard light traffic. I detected the faint smell of cinnamon and coffee. Were we near Café au Lait, a delicious coffeehouse designed with a French flair? I could use a cup of coffee. “At least take the blindfold off. It’s tugging the back of my hair.”
“No, ma’am,” Delilah said.
“Ma’am,” Meredith sniggered. “That’s right. You’re going to be a ma’am soon. Maybe we should continue to call you Miss Charlotte for a while longer.” More giggles erupted from Meredith. How had Delilah talked her into this escapade? Meredith was usually the reliable and sane one. Sure, back in high school, she had been sneaky, but now? “Sounds like something right out of Gone with the Wind,” she continued. “Miss Charlotte. Hmm. Which do you prefer, Miss Charlotte or Mrs. Jordan Pace?”
I didn’t know who, where, or what was on the agenda for tonight, but in three days, on Sunday, I was moving forward with my life and marrying the man of my dreams—Jordan. A sizzle of desire shot through me just thinking about him. Prior to moving to Providence, Jordan had been the chef and owner of an Italian restaurant in upstate New York. One night outside the restaurant, he saw two thugs attack a third man. Without hesitating, Jordan, a former military man, sprang to the third man’s defense. Days later, Jordan entered the WITSEC program to testify against the survivor, whose buddies had been the lynchpins of a gambling ring. Entering WITSEC had landed him in Providence, Ohio. Lucky me.
“This way, Miss Charlotte.” Delilah steered me to the right.
A door opened and I breathed easier. I recognized the jingle of the chime above the door. We were entering Fromagerie Bessette. The aroma of a potent Irish Cheddar cheese—our last sale of the day—hung in the air. I detected a hint of the quiche I’d made in the morning, too—apple bacon Gouda. It had been rich with a smoky, savory flavor.
