Carved in Cranberry Sauce : A Thanksgiving Cozy Mystery of High Society, Mind Reading, and One Dead Donor (The Mindreader Murder Club Mysteries Series Book 3)
By Liora Dawn
A Thanksgiving Cozy Mystery of High Society, Mind Reading, and One Dead Donor
The Marigold Cove Country Club is hosting a glittering Thanksgiving charity dinner for the coastal rescue foundation, and Cassie is juggling a failing oven, a chaotic seating chart, and donors with very sharp elbows. The foundation was founded the same week she almost drowned as a teenager. The dates match too neatly to ignore.
During the main course, charming founder Conrad Hale lifts his fork for a lighthearted cranberry toast and collapses into the sauce. Guests freeze. Staff panic. Cassie hears one jagged thought from across the room: “It should have been me.” Toxicology proves Conrad was poisoned hours earlier at a private menu tasting, narrowing the suspects to an inner circle that includes a sleek operations director, a bitter retired captain, a grieving donor couple, and a starstruck young volunteer.
As Cassie and the murder club follow the money, they uncover staged “rescues” designed for cameras, quiet settlements, and suspicious overlaps between the rescue foundation and the club’s founders fund. Her own accident starts to look less like random bad luck and more like collateral damage in a long con. Rowan needs her mindreading more than ever, and their partnership starts to look a lot like something real. A Thanksgiving paranormal cozy mystery with country club glamour, sharp social stakes, talking pets, and a high society donor who picked the wrong dinner to die at.
A Thanksgiving Cozy Mystery of High Society, Mind Reading, and One Dead Donor
The Marigold Cove Country Club is hosting a glittering Thanksgiving charity dinner for the coastal rescue foundation, and Cassie is juggling a failing oven, a chaotic seating chart, and donors with very sharp elbows. The foundation was founded the same week she almost drowned as a teenager. The dates match too neatly to ignore.
During the main course, charming founder Conrad Hale lifts his fork for a lighthearted cranberry toast and collapses into the sauce. Guests freeze. Staff panic. Cassie hears one jagged thought from across the room: “It should have been me.” Toxicology proves Conrad was poisoned hours earlier at a private menu tasting, narrowing the suspects to an inner circle that includes a sleek operations director, a bitter retired captain, a grieving donor couple, and a starstruck young volunteer.
As Cassie and the murder club follow the money, they uncover staged “rescues” designed for cameras, quiet settlements, and suspicious overlaps between the rescue foundation and the club’s founders fund. Her own accident starts to look less like random bad luck and more like collateral damage in a long con. Rowan needs her mindreading more than ever, and their partnership starts to look a lot like something real. A Thanksgiving paranormal cozy mystery with country club glamour, sharp social stakes, talking pets, and a high society donor who picked the wrong dinner to die at.