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Kibbles and Death by S.A. Kazlo is a Celebrate Mothers Bookish Event pick #cozymystery #99cents #99c #mothersday #giveaway



Title: Kibbles and Death

 

Author: S.A. Kazlo

 

Genre: Cozy mystery

 

Book Blurb:

 

After a nasty divorce, Samantha Davies has finally gotten her life back on track. She enjoys her hobby of hooking—rug hooking, that is—and is fulfilling a lifelong dream by writing her first children’s book, featuring her dachshund, Porkchop. But the pleasant pace of her life in small-town Upstate New York is suddenly shattered when she finds the dead body of the local pet shelter owner—murdered and covered in kibble!While Calvin Perkins wasn't the most beloved man in town, Samantha's shaken to think there's a killer among them. Even more so when her octogenarian neighbor's boyfriend becomes the police's number one suspect and her neighbor pleads with Sam to help him. While Sam's research skills have been honed in her pursuit of a publishing career, she's not convinced she won't be in over her head. Calvin may have been great with the animals, but he wasn’t well-liked by people, creating a list of suspects almost as long as Porkchop's favorite bone. But with the help of her Southern belle cousin, Candie Parker, Sam vows to find the truth...even if she has to go toe-to-toe with the handsome new detective in town to do it. Old grudges, new secrets, and danger around every corner means Samantha better find the killer's identity quickly...before they set their sights on another victim!

 

Excerpt:

 

Kibbles and Death: A Samantha Davies Mystery

 

 

CHAPTER ONE

 

 

                        Who would have guessed this would be a good day for a murder? When I left home this morning the sky was a robin's egg blue streaked with wispy clouds. The digital thermometer in my egg-yolk yellow Volkswagen Bug read sixty-eight. The local weather person on my car radio predicted a sunny day, with the temperature climbing into the nineties by late afternoon. Not typical weather for upstate New York. Eighties were usually the highest we experienced during the summer, but I will take it over the frigid cold of winter. Nope, murder didn't hover on the horizon. Hot weather yes, murder, no.

 

            "Porkchop, come on. Get those chubby legs moving. We have a lot to do this morning." My beloved dachshund stretched his long red body on the passenger seat of my convertible. He cocked his head and shot me a look as if to say, "How dare you, impugn my svelte physique?" I am the star of your soon-to-be-hit seller, Porkchop, The Wonder Dog.

 

            Parked in front of my favorite hangout, The Ewe and Me Woolery, I turned off the car's ignition. We hookers fondly called it The Ewe. Now don't go raising your eyebrows so high they flip into your cranium. I'm a hooker—a rug hooker that is. Besides enjoying rug hooking, I am also a children's writer, mostly freelance magazine writing, but right now, fingers, toes, and eyes crossed, my picture book staring Porkchop, sat in the final stages of approval on the editor's desk at Rolling Brook Publishers.

 

            I got out of my car and walked around to the passenger door. Porkchop looked up at me through the open window with his liquid brown eyes. "Sugar plum, I know I am disturbing your beauty sleep, but we have a bunch of errands to run this morning." I reached in and snagged him off the car seat. I clipped on his leash then set him on the sidewalk next to me.

 

             The Ewe and Me Woolery stood proudly in a turn-of-the-century brick storefront on Glen Street in Wings Falls, my hometown in upstate New York. I knew I had arrived early. The Bug's clock only read eight-thirty and the doors weren't open for business for another hour. In my mind's eye, I could imagine Lucy Foster, who along with her husband Ralph, owned The Ewe, bustling around the shop, straightening shelves, and rearranging patterns for us woolaholics who couldn't get enough of the fabulous wool and goodies her shop offered.

 

 Morning sunlight streamed in from the windows and shone on the cubbies lining the walls of her shop. They were stuffed with wool ranging in color from bright pinks, greens, blues, and every color of the rainbow, to the more primitive, or as Lucy liked to call them "muddy" tans, creams, and muted hues of the spectrum, the colors I gravitated to myself. If you needed a specific color, Lucy had it or would conjure it up in her marvelous dye kitchen in the back of the store.

 

            The Ewe held a special place in my heart. My Loopy Ladies, fellow hookers who gathered at the shop, saw me through a rough patch five years ago. My then-husband of twenty-five years, George, announced he wanted a divorce. We own a funeral parlor together, The Do Drop Inn Funeral Parlor. I know, a crazy name for a funeral home, but for years a bar occupied the building before we purchased it and the locals preferred the name to Davies Funeral Parlor.

 

            Being young and newly married I wanted to help the hubby with his career, so I used an inheritance left to me from an uncle to purchase it. Silly me. Apparently, George forgot what I did all those years ago to help fulfill his dream of having his own funeral parlor. And—also apparently—his late-night corpse pickups involved more live bodies than dead. At least one unquestionably live body, our secretary, Anna. He had the nerve to puff out his chest with pride and tell me while I made him breakfast one morning, "Samantha, Anna and I are expecting."

 

With a confused look on my face, I turned from the stove and asked, "Expecting, what?"

 

He had the decency to fidget in his chair. "Twins."

 

My eyes widened, "As in babies?"

 

He blushed and nodded.

 

            It still does my heart good to think of how I dumped a plate of pancakes smothered in warm maple syrup on his neatly pressed khaki-clad lap. What smarted the most? We tried for years to conceive a child of our own. We traveled from one specialist to another seeking help with our problem. Final diagnosis, George's low sperm count. Apparently, one of those little buggers hit its mark, though, resulting in Harry and Larry.

 

            My Southern Belle cousin and best friend, Candie Parker, opinion about summed up mine when she said, "Good riddance to an ol' trash sucking possum." Candie worked as a part-time secretary for our town's mayor, Mark Hogan. She also wrote romance novels under the pen name Candie del'Amore. I thought of her as an expert in the romance department, having been engaged eleven times. Her novels had a large following, but she knew the reading public was too fickle for her to give up her day job. I think she secretly had a crush on Mark, though. They kept everything professional at the office, but I know they'd had a few dates. This time I rooted for Mark. He was a keeper.

 

 

Buy Links (including Goodreads and BookBub):

 

Kibbles and Death will be on sale for 99 cents from May 7-12!

 

 

 

 

What makes your featured book a must-read?

 

 Who doesn't love an adorable dachshund, especially one who helps his people momma, Samantha Davies, solve murders taking place in their small town of Wings Falls, in upstate New York. You'll fall in love with all the quirky characters who people town, too. Sit back and enjoy a mystery that is spiced with a bit of romance and humor.

 

Giveaway –

 

Enter to win a $10 Amazon gift card:

 

 

Open Internationally.

 

Runs May 7 – May 14, 2024.

 

Winner will be drawn on May 15, 2024.

 

Author Biography: 

 

Syrl, a retired teacher, lives in upstate New York with her husband and two lively dachshunds. She writes the Samantha Davies Mystery series, featuring Samantha Davies and her loveable dachshund, Porkchop. When not writing she is busy hooking, rug hooking that is, and enjoying her family. Her newest book, number five in the series is, Chilled to the Dog Bone.

 

Social Media Links:

 

twitter= @sakazlo

Instagram- sakazlo

Facebook- sakazlo

Linkedin- sakazlo

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May 10

Thank you, S.A., for sharing your book sale in our Celebrate Mothers Bookish Event!

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