G I V E A W A Y   E N D E D

Synopsis:

The town is all abuzz when a murder occurs in Jennie Marts’ debut cozy mystery, perfect for fans of Jenn McKinlay and Amanda Flower.

As a successful mystery author, Bailey Briggs writes about murder, but nothing prepares her for actually discovering the dead body of the founder of her hometown of Humble Hills, Colorado. Bailey grew up at Honeybuzz Mountain Ranch and was raised by her beekeeping grandmother, Blossom Briggs, aka Granny Bee, and her two eccentric sisters, Aster and Marigold—which is why she drops everything to come home and help Granny Bee after a bad fall.

A broken foot doesn’t stop her grandmother from ruling The Hive, her granny’s book club, or continuing to prepare and package her bee-inspired products. But when Bailey’s grandmother’s infamous “Honey I’m Home” hot spiced honey turns out to “bee” the murder weapon and her granny is now the prime suspect, Bailey has no choice but to use her fictional detective skills to help solve the murder and “smoke out” the real culprit.

With the help of Bailey’s witty bestie, a pair of meddling aunts, the feisty members of The Hive, and her computer-savvy daughter, this amateur sleuth is determined to solve the case. A malicious attack and an ominous threat reveal that someone wants Bailey to butt out of the investigation, but there’s no way she’s backing down. She must use her skills to uncover the truth and catch the clever culprit before her grandmother ends up bee-hind bars.

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EXCERPTS:

Shorter excerpts:

Excerpt 1:
“Maybe I’m just tired and grouchy,” Evie said. “I guess I was hoping we would find something that would break the case wide open, and we’d reveal the killer and be heroes, and then the town would throw us a parade.”

“No wonder you’re grouchy,” Sawyer said. “Rarely do you find a clue that breaks a case wide open and helps you solve it in one night. And no one’s thrown me a parade yet.”

“Have you solved a murder case?” Evie asked.

“No,” the sheriff said. “But I did help rescue three pigs that had locked themselves in Ray Finlayson’s pickup last week in the parking lot of the Price Mart.”

“That’s pretty heroic,” Evie agreed. “But I’m not sure it’s parade-worthy.”

 

Excerpt 2:
“Hmm. That does sound bad for Bee,” Marigold said, pat- ting her sister’s good leg. “But only because she threatened him. Otherwise, anyone could have gotten ahold of a jar of her honey. They sell it in half the stores in town for goodness sakes.”

“Getting the honey would be easy,” Granny Bee agreed, “But the hard part would be getting him to eat it. The man was ridiculously careful about avoiding any kind of exposure to bees or honey. Frankly, I’m surprised he even came out to the ranch yesterday since he knows there are numerous hives here.”

“That is a mystery,” Rosa said.

“A mystery that I plan to solve,” Bailey said.

Granny jerked her head toward her granddaughter. “You? No way. The police think Werner was murdered. Which means there is a murderer out there. Someone who murders people. Which means I don’t want you anywhere near this business.”

“Gran, murder is my business. That’s how I make my living.”

“You make your living off fictional murders. This is for real, Bailey. A man is dead.”

Bailey nodded. “Yes, I know. I saw him this morning. And the police think you had something to do with it. So, if I can figure out who the real killer is, then you’ll be off the hook.”

“Makes sense to me,” Evie said, having her back, like always. “What can I do to help?”

“I want to help as well,” Marigold said, putting her knitting to the side and leaning forward.

“Me too,” Dottie said.

Aster raised her hand. “Me three.”

Granny smacked her forehead. “Now look what you’ve done. You’ve got half The Hive thinking they’re private detectives. What do any of you know about solving a crime or finding a murderer?”

“Excuse me,” Bailey said. “Solving crimes is what I do.”

“And we watch a lot of murder mysteries,” Aster said, pointing to herself and Marigold. “And we almost always guess the killer correctly.”

“You solve mysteries that you create,” Granny told Bailey, then turned to her sisters. “And this isn’t like on television. This is dangerous. And I’ve watched mysteries with you all and saying you almost always guess correctly is a gross overstatement. The only reason you ever get the identity of the killer right is because you’ve guessed half the suspects before the show is over.”

Aster lifted her chin. “Doesn’t mean we couldn’t get it right this time.” 

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Longer Excerpts:

Excerpt 1:
She couldn’t seem to catch her breath. “Like dead-dead?” she whispered, trying to keep her anxiety in check and not hyperventilate.

Sawyer arched an eyebrow. “Yes, Bailey. Like that.”

Her hands fluttered to her mouth as she slumped to the floor next to Werner. Praying he was wrong, she picked up Werner’s hand, just as Sawyer had done to her the day before and tried desperately to find the flutter of a beat.

“Just breathe, Bailey,” Sawyer said, firmly cupping the side of her shoulder, the same way he used to when she’d had panic attacks back in high school.

The pressure of his hand calmed her, just as it always had, and she matched her breathing with his, taking in a deep breath, then slowly letting it out. “I’m okay, but we’ve got to call someone,” she said, pulling her phone from her pocket and stabbing at the screen as she tapped 9-1-1.

“It’s okay, Bailey. I’ve got this.”

She shook her head. How was he so calm? “No, we need an ambulance. Or a fireman. Or the police.” Her heart rate climbed even higher. “Oh my gosh, do we need the police?”

“Yes, but—” he started to say, but Bailey cut him off as the line was picked up.

“Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?” The operator’s voice sounded familiar.

“Yes, hello. We just found Werner Humble on his dining room floor, and we think he might be dead.”

“He is,” Sawyer confirmed. Again.

Bailey shot him a quick glare as she heard the operator say, “I’m sending an ambulance now.”

“Tell her there are suspicious circumstances,” he instructed.

Suspicious circumstances?

“Well, shoot fire,” the dispatcher whispered, then recognition set in as she said more clearly, “I heard him. I’ll contact the sheriff now.”

“Linda? Is that you?” Bailey asked.

“Yes, this is Linda Johnson.”

“This is Bailey Briggs.” She and Linda had gone to high school together and been lab partners for chemistry. Linda had been notorious for diving in without reading the lab notes, and Bailey had heard that whispered “Well, shoot fire” many times as their experiments literally went up in smoke.

“Oh hey, Bailey, I heard you were back in town. Hold on, I’m ringing the sheriff.”

Bailey turned toward Sawyer as she heard the theme song of Mission Impossible coming from his pocket.

He pulled out his phone and tapped the screen. “Dunn here.”

Bailey heard Linda say, “Hey, Sheriff, you need to head over to Werner Humble’s house. I already sent an ambulance, but apparently he’s dead and they think there might be suspicious circumstances.”

“Thanks, Linda, I’m already at the scene.”

“How’d you get there so fast?”

“I’m the one who discovered the body.”

“I thought Bailey Briggs did.”

“She’s here with me.”

“Oh, then why did I need to call you?”

Bailey spoke into the phone. “Because he didn’t tell me he was the sheriff.”

Sawyer shrugged as the corner of his lip tugged up in a grin. “I tried.”

“Not hard enough,” she muttered.

“Why don’t you call off the ambulance, Linda,” Sawyer told the dispatcher. “And send the coroner instead.”

“I’m on it, Sheriff. But he was doing a lecture at the hospital in the next town over today, so it may take him a half an hour or so to get to you.”

“That’s fine. I’ll wait here.”

“Okay, well, I’ve got another call coming in,” Linda said. “Welcome home, Bailey.”

What a homecoming.

“You’re the sheriff?” Bailey asked as she pushed her phone back into her pocket.

He nodded.

“Why didn’t you tell me that yesterday?” “Didn’t come up.”

And why hadn’t her grandmother or her so-called best friend informed her of this fact? Oh yeah, Evie thought it was just so much more fun this way.

I’ ll be sure to let her know how much fun I’m having.

“Why does he look like that?” She pressed her fingers together and tried to rub the tackiness of them on her jeans. “And why is he sticky?”

“I’m assuming he’s sticky from the honey-slathered biscuit it appears he was eating.” He nodded to the evidence lying on the floor a few feet from his outstretched hand. 

It was partially under the table, so she hadn’t noticed it before, but now she could see the biscuit had a large bite out of the side. “There’s no way Werner was eating that. Granny Bee just told us he’s deathly allergic to honey. And that’s not something you eat by mistake.”

“I’m not the medical examiner, of course, but the way his lips are swollen, the hives, the . . .” He waved his hand in a circle around his head. “The way he looks leads me to believe he died from anaphylactic shock, presumably from eating that honey we know he was allergic to. It’s hard to see around the hives, but it looks to me like there are also traces of the honey on his chin and around his mouth.” He furrowed his brow as he leaned closer and sniffed at Werner’s face.

Bailey drew back, wrinkling her nose. “What are you doing?”

“I know this scent.” Realization lit his eyes, then his expression changed to dread as he leaned back and gazed around the room.

“What is it?”

His shoulders slumped as he shook his head. “I sure wish I hadn’t heard Granny Bee threaten to kill this man yesterday.”

“Why? What does Granny Bee have to do with this?”

He pointed to the jar of Granny Bee’s signature Honey I’m Home hot spiced honey sitting open on the table, a spoon covered in the amber substance next to it. “Because it looks like it was her honey that killed him.”

 

Excerpt 2:
The front door of the sheriff’s department burst open, and a deputy walked in, his hand on the elbow of a spitting mad Granny Bee.

“Gran, are you all right?” Bailey asked, pushing to her feet. 

“No, I’m not all right,” her grandmother hollered, her wrists held together in front of her. “Does it look like I’m all right? This young whippersnapper showed up and dragged me out of my house in handcuffs and then hauled me down here to the station to be thrown in the slammer. Like I’m a common criminal.”

Granny had on jeans and a yellow T-shirt with a large bee on it that read “I’m a Keeper.” Her long silvery-blond hair was disheveled, pieces of it falling free from the ponytail at the back of her neck. She wore the blue boot fastened around her broken foot and a slipper on the other, making Bailey think this callous deputy hadn’t even given her a chance to put on proper footwear.

“Miss Briggs…,” the deputy, who wasn’t that young—the guy looked like he was in his forties—tried to say. He had short dark hair, but a few gray strands were visible in his thick mustache.

But Granny Bee interrupted him, raising her voice even louder. “I’ve got rights, you know.” From behind the deputy’s back, she snuck a quick glance at Bailey and gave her a wink, a sly grin curving her lips for just a moment before her angry scowl returned. “I protested for women’s rights in the sixties and burned my bra with the rest of them. So, I know a travesty of justice when I see one.”

Bailey grimaced, not wanting to imagine her grandmother swinging her brassiere around before tossing it into a bonfire. She also had no idea what bra-burning had to do with Gran’s current situation, but it was getting the results she was trying for. Everyone in the station was staring in their direction.

Sawyer must have finished his call because he yanked open his office door and strode across the room, already pulling a ring of keys from his pocket. “Geez, Riggs, I told you to bring her in for questioning, not handcuff her and drag her out of her house.”

“I didn’t handcuff her,” the deputy sputtered. “She’s just holding her wrists together.”

Sawyer looked down at Granny’s hands where she had her wrists pressed together, then cocked an eyebrow as his gaze returned to her face.

She gave an innocent shrug, then crossed her unhandcuffed hands in front of her. “Wellll,” she huffed indignantly. “He might as well have handcuffed me. It was still humiliating.”

The deputy, who apparently wasn’t that callous, shook his head. “I tried to tell her that if I put the cuffs on her then I’d have to arrest her, but she kept insisting. It’s a wonder I got her here at all.”

“Where’s Daisy?” Bailey asked, ignoring her grandmother’s theatrics as she craned her neck to look around the deputy.

“Don’t worry,” Granny said. “She’s with Rosa.” Bailey let out a sigh of relief.

“You’re not under arrest, I just need to ask you some questions,” Sawyer told Granny. “How about we get you some coffee? Or a glass of water?”

Granny Bee’s shoulders slumped, and her chest caved inward as if her whole body was an ice cream cone that was melting in the sun, as she let out a long, tortured sigh. “You know, I’m just a poor defenseless little old lady who was only minding her own business.”

Sawyer arched an eyebrow again and lowered his voice as he leaned closer to her. “You can cut the act, Granny. I’m not buying it. You’re not that old. And just a minute ago, you were making a fuss and hollering about your rights.”

She huffed again, straightening her shoulders. “Well, I have the right to call myself a defenseless little old lady if I want. That’s what we protested and burned our—”

Sawyer held up his hands. “I don’t need to know what you burned. Can you just come back to my office and give me a statement?”

“Wait!” a voice yelled as Aster and Marigold pushed into the sheriff’s office.

“Don’t say anything, Bee,” Marigold commanded, hustling past the deputy. “Sheriff, I’m here to tell you that my sister had nothing to do with this unpleasant business with Werner.”

Now it was Sawyer’s turn to sigh. And his was almost as long-suffering sounding as Granny’s had been. “I appreciate your concern, Miss Marigold, but I still need to ask her some questions.”

“You can’t arrest her,” Marigold barreled on as if Sawyer hadn’t said anything. “Because I was with her the whole night, so she couldn’t have been with Werner.”

“Yeah,” Aster said, stepping up to stand with her sister. “I was too.”

Sawyer looked from the aunts to Bailey, then back to the aunts. “You mean you’re here to tell me that you were with your sister the whole night? In the same room with her?”

“Yep,” Marigold said, without missing a beat. “It was like a slumber party.”

“A slumber party?” Sawyer asked, but before he could say anything more, Rosa, Evie, and Daisy burst through the door.

“We’re here to make a statement,” Rosa declared.

Evie put a hand on her hip. “Yeah, we’re here to declare that we were with Granny Bee all night last night. We slept over.”

Bailey’s heart swelled as Daisy followed Evie’s lead, planting her fist at her waist and calling out, “Me too.”

Sawyer scrubbed a hand over his face and rubbed the whiskers on his jawline. “So, all three of you were at this so-called slumber party?”

“Sí,” Rosa confirmed with a hard nod.

“We stayed up all night,” Evie told him, embellishing the story ever more. “We played truth or dare and tried to put Granny’s bra in the freezer.”

Sawyer winced. “Can we please stop talking about Granny Bee’s br-r…. undergarments?”

A blast of warm summer air came through as the station door pushed open one more time and a disheveled Dottie came striding in holding a pink bakery box. “Sorry I’m late, I stopped to pick up cupcakes.” She blew her bangs off her damp forehead. “I brought them for you all. But they’re not like a bribe or anything. I would never do that. I watch crime shows and know that bribing a police officer is against the law.”

“But lying to one is apparently okay,” Sawyer muttered.

Deputy Riggs picked up a strawberry frosted one covered in rainbow-colored sprinkles and grinned like he’d won a prize.

 

Excerpt 3:
Aster’s teacup rattled against her saucer, and she quickly set it on the table next to her and stared down into her lap.

Bailey reached a hand out to touch her shoulder. “Are you okay, Auntie?”

Aster shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m all mixed up inside. I mean, yesterday I was so mad at the man. He made me feel foolish that I’d gone out to dinner with him several times, then he had the nerve to make a pass at my sister. But as mad as I was, I sure didn’t wish him dead.” She waved her hand in front of her face as she blinked back tears. “Oh, don’t listen to me. I’m just out of sorts. I’m mad and sad and scared for Bee and embarrassed that I thought love was even still in the cards for an old gal like me.”

“You’re not that old,” Evie said. “And you don’t have to give up on finding someone. Look at Miss Dot, she found a great guy.”

They all turned to Dottie, who was wringing her hands together in her lap. A lone tear slipped down her cheek as she bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

“Oh no,” Bailey said. “Your wonderful mystery man wasn’t…?” She couldn’t bring herself to say Werner’s name.

Dottie gave the slightest nod as she dipped her chin closer to her chest.

“Oh no,” Granny Bee whispered.

“Oh yes,” Dottie whispered back.

Oh shoot.

Bailey pressed her fingers to her lips. What could she say now?

Apparently, she didn’t have to say anything. Instead, the lovely well-mannered child that she birthed said it for them all.

“You mean to say that guy was dating both of you and made a pass at Granny Bee?” Daisy asked. “He sounds like a real douche nugget to me.”

Dottie looked up at Daisy, her eyes round in surprise, then a small giggle bubbled out of her. She covered her hand with her mouth, but another laugh escaped. Then the room erupted as they all burst out laughing.

“Yes, great-granddaughter,” Granny Bee said, as the laughter settled down. “I think you hit the nail right on the smarmy bastard’s head.”

“The smarmy dead bastard,” Bailey reminded her. “Which brings us back to the kettle of fish we started this conversation with. The one where you’re a ‘person of interest’ in his death.”

Aster sighed as she peered around the room. “Anyone have any great ideas how we’re going to get my sister out of this mess? Or even semi-mediocre ideas?”

“I still don’t know all the details of what happened,” Evie said. “Other than he’s dead, and it was Granny’s honey that possibly killed him. Why don’t you start by telling us everything you know?”

“Obviously this information is confidential and can’t leave this room,” Bailey said before filling them in on everything that had happened that morning.

“Hmm. That does sound bad for Bee,” Marigold said, pat- ting her sister’s good leg. “But only because she threatened him. Otherwise, anyone could have gotten ahold of a jar of her honey. They sell it in half the stores in town for goodness sakes.”

“Getting the honey would be easy,” Granny Bee agreed, “But the hard part would be getting him to eat it. The man was ridiculously careful about avoiding any kind of exposure to bees or honey. Frankly, I’m surprised he even came out to the ranch yesterday since he knows there are numerous hives here.”

“That is a mystery,” Rosa said.

“A mystery that I plan to solve,” Bailey said.

Granny jerked her head toward her granddaughter. “You? No way. The police think Werner was murdered. Which means there is a murderer out there. Someone who murders people. Which means I don’t want you anywhere near this business.”

“Gran, murder is my business. That’s how I make my living.”

“You make your living off fictional murders. This is for real, Bailey. A man is dead.”

Bailey nodded. “Yes, I know. I saw him this morning. And the police think you had something to do with it. So, if I can figure out who the real killer is, then you’ll be off the hook.”

“Makes sense to me,” Evie said, having her back, like always. “What can I do to help?”

“I want to help as well,” Marigold said, putting her knitting to the side and leaning forward.

“Me too,” Dottie said.

Aster raised her hand. “Me three.”

Granny smacked her forehead. “Now look what you’ve done. You’ve got half The Hive thinking they’re private detectives. What do any of you know about solving a crime or finding a murderer?”

“Excuse me,” Bailey said. “Solving crimes is what I do.”

“And we watch a lot of murder mysteries,” Aster said, pointing to herself and Marigold. “And we almost always guess the killer correctly.”

“You solve mysteries that you create,” Granny told Bailey, then turned to her sisters. “And this isn’t like on television. This is dangerous. And I’ve watched mysteries with you all and saying you almost always guess correctly is a gross overstatement. The only reason you ever get the identity of the killer right is because you’ve guessed half the suspects before the show is over.”

Aster lifted her chin. “Doesn’t mean we couldn’t get it right this time.”

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Praise for Take the Honey and Run:

“Stylish, compelling, and highly imaginative. I love that Jennie Marts has ratcheted up the action to keep the rest of us cozy authors on our toes!”
—Laura Childs, New York Times bestselling author of the Tea Shop Mysteries

“A honey of a cozy mystery filled with secrets, friendship . . . and a bee-fuddling murder that will keep you guessing.”
—Diane A.S. Stuckart, New York Times bestselling author of cozy mysteries

“A delicious new series you’ll want to devour!”
—Leslie Langtry, USA Today bestselling author of the Merry Wrath Mystery series

“As irresistible as a spoonful of honey, Take the Honey and Run charmed me from page one all the way to the twisty conclusion. Jennie Marts’ humor and warmth are on full display in this sweet, suspenseful mystery. I loved the intergenerational friendships, smalltown mischief, family secrets, and hints of romance. Bring on the next installment—with an extra slice of honey cake, please!”
—Alicia Bessette, bestselling author of Smile Beach Murder and Murder on Mustang Beach

“You’ll love this hive of charming, feisty women and delight in the tasty way they catch more thieves with honey.”
—Elle Brooke White, author of the Finn Family Farm Mystery series

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Author Bio:

Jennie Marts is the USA TODAY Best-selling author of award-winning books filled with love, laughter, and always a happily ever after. Readers call her books “laugh out loud” funny and the “perfect mix of romance, humor, and steam.” Fic Central claimed one of her books was “the most fun I’ve had reading in years.”

She is living her own happily ever after in the mountains of Colorado with her husband, two dogs, and a parakeet that loves to tweet to the oldies. She’s addicted to Diet Coke, adores Cheetos, and believes you can’t have too many books, shoes, or friends.

Her books include the contemporary western romance Hearts of Montana series, the romantic comedy/ cozy mysteries of The Page Turners series, the hunky hockey-playing men in the Bannister family in the Bannister Brothers Books, and the small-town romantic comedies in the Lovestruck series of Cotton Creek Romances.

Jennie loves to hear from readers. Follow her on Facebook at Jennie Marts Books, or Twitter at @JennieMarts. Visit her at http://www.jenniemarts.com and sign up for her newsletter to keep up with the latest news and releases.

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