Teresa Trent is on a blog tour with Great Escapes Virtual Tours promoting the latest book in her Pecan Bayou Series, Buzzkill. I’m reviewing the book and there is a rafflecopter giveaway, for a jar of Texas honey and a ten dollar Amazon gift card, so be sure to enter by leaving a comment here (and a helpful hint if you have one) then going here: a Rafflecopter giveaway And be sure to visit the other stops on the tour (listed below). And there is an exerpt from the book at the bottom of the page.
Teresa Trent lives in Texas and loves writing about small town life. She first got the idea to create Pecan Bayou after visiting the Texas Hill Country to view the millions of springtime flowers alongside the roads and highways. The town of Pecan Bayou does not exist in Texas, but there is a body of water in the state with the name. Pecan Bayou does exist in Teresa’s imagination and heart. Buzzkill is the fourth book in the Pecan Bayou series featuring all of the crazy characters who live in this cozy little town in Texas.
Genre: Cozy Mystery
4th in the Pecan Bayou Series
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform (July 13, 2013)
Paperback: 342 pages
E-Book File Size: 338 KB
Betsy Livingston is planning a wedding so what could go wrong? After publishing a recipe for homemade calamine lotion in the newspaper, the ladies in the community church make a large batch. Everyone loves the stuff until someone in Pecan Bayou is found dead after using it. The town points to Betsy and she starts rethinking her whole career as a helpful hints columnist. Now she must clear her own name in between dress-fitting, cake-tasting, and all those things that turn a bride into a bridezilla. Is Betsy at fault or could there be something else that leads her down the aisle to murder?
Quite by coincidence, I follow Teresa Trent’s blog and I already had her three previous books in the Pecan Bayou Series, so I was thrilled when I received an advance readers copy of Buzzkill to review (the book is out now). Betsy Livingstone, The Happy Hinter columnist, is marrying meteorologist boyfriend Leo on Valentine’s Day. One would expect The Happy Hinter to be great at planning a wedding but she is stressed to the max so Aunt Maggie hires wedding planner Mr. Andre as a wedding gift. But Betsy has more problems than wedding planning. Leo expects her and son Zach to move to Dallas with him and son Tyler. They waited until pretty late in the game for that conversation. Then Betsy sends an invitation to her mother, Charlotte. Why not? She hasn’t seen her since she was four and she never responded to any previous invitations. So you know Charlotte does show up, and a month early at that, causing all sorts of family tension. And if all that is not enough, a real bridezilla is competing with Betsy for Valentine Day church and venue booking and someone dies, seemingly from the calamine lotion recipe published in The Happy Hinter column. But was it the lotion recipe or did a killer add their own extra ingredient? The story is very dialogue driven, which is something I love. And it is a quick read, perfect for a day at the beach. Plus you will get a bunch of Happy Hinter hints at the end. I highly recommend Buzzkill and the rest of the books in the Pecan Bayou Series. ♥♥♥♥
August 13 – Cozy Up With Kathy
August 14 – Mochas, Mysteries and More
August 16 – readalot blog
August 18 – Melina Book Blog
August 19 – rantin‘ ravin‘ and reading
August 20 – A Chick Who Reads
August 22 – Kaisy Daisy’s Corner
August 24 – Chloe Gets A Clue
August 26 – Brooke Blogs
August 27 – My Recent Favorite books
August 29 – Dru’s Book Musings
“Okay now, let’s see.” Mr. Andre lowered his head, revealing the roots of his mousse-spiked, bleached hair. He wore a dark maroon suit with a matching jewel-toned silk shirt unbuttoned midway, showing sparse hair on his skinny chest. “Do you have a photographer?”
“Yes,” I ventured.
“No,” Aunt Maggie cut in. “She has some guy who shoots kiddie team pictures.”
“Oh my.” Andre circled something on his clipboard. “No photographer.”
“And you’ve gone for a wedding cake tasting?”
“A tasting? I think I already know what vanilla and chocolate tastes like by now.”
Andre shook his head as if I were a child. “No, my dear. You will be pleased to find out there are other flavors like white amaretto, champagne – girl, you can even get peanut butter if that’s what floats your boat. So I take it you haven’t had a cake-tasting session?”
“You would be correct,” I replied.
“I see.” He circled another line. “And your flowers?”
“She’s using Lenny Stokes, and she’s already put a deposit down,” Aunt Maggie said.
“I see. I’ll need his number and address so I can get in contact with him to put him on my approved vendors list.” He circled another line. “And what is the venue?”
“We are going to have the ceremony at the community church.”
Andre’s eyebrows raised as he nodded and smiled. I had finally done something right.
“Do you have any kind of documentation on this?” he asked.
“Not officially, no,” I said. “I have talked to the pastor about it, though and he says it’s open. We live in a small town, Andre. Documentation isn’t always required.”
“Mr. Andre,” he corrected.
“We just don’t have the same kinds of waiting lists like there are in the big city.”
He clutched his hand to his chest. “Well, that’s a relief.”
“And your invitations?”
“We weren’t going to send those out until mid-January. We were afraid people would lose them. I have them ordered.” Mr. Andre’s eyes slanted toward me. “Well, they’re not exactly ordered, but I do have them picked out.”
A pause hung in the air as Mr. Andre summoned up the strength to go on. “Are you sure we’re planning a wedding and not some kind of country barbecue where they cook a pig over a spit?” He clasped his hands together in front of him to emphasize his point. “You are in crisis mode, Madame Happy Hinter.”
I gulped. So maybe, just maybe, I hadn’t nailed down enough of the details. I felt a tear escape onto my cheek. Andre, used to overwhelmed brides, reached over to a satin-covered tissue box and slapped it down on the table in front of me.
“Dry your eyes, sweetie. We’ve got work to do,” he said. “You should know what a lucky girl you are. I just removed myself from a wedding on the same day. No one – I repeat, no one – does a wedding like Mr. Andre, but even I have my limits on troublesome brides and monster mothers. As fate would have it, I’m yours.”
He walked over to a filing cabinet and pulled out a large white leather binder. Mr. Andre’s picture was on the front, and underneath that, “Weddings Exclusively by Mr. Andre” was embossed in gold lettering.
“I don’t care what religion you are,” he said. “This, lovey, is your new bible. Carry this with you everywhere and fill it with notes, questions, business cards, quotes and everything – I mean everything – that has to do with your wedding. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” I said and saluted before I could stop myself. Aunt Maggie broke out into a laugh, but Mr. Andre turned quickly, fixing his eyes on her. She quickly stifled her reaction and stood up a little straighter, becoming just another draftee in the world of white satin.