Candy-Coated Mysteries

Fudge shop owner Allie McMurphy is making fudgie treats for the annual yacht race--but a killer's stirring up a batch of trouble . . . Sailing Into Murder The annual yacht race off the coast of Mackinac Island, Michigan, is a highlight of the summer season, and Allie is pulling out all the stops making chocolate centerpieces for the occasion. Unfortunately, she and her bichonpoo, Mal, also pull a dead body from the murky waters of the marina. When Allie's boyfriend's sister becomes the prime suspect, Allie dives into investigating the murder herself. Amid bitter feuds and hushed-up scandals, the courageous candymaker quickly gets in over her head. Someone is trying to fudge the facts to keep a secret worth killing for . . .

Life is always sweet in Allie McMurphy's delectable fudge shop. But murder can make things unpleasantly sticky . . . After Allie inherited her family's McMurphy Hotel and Fudge Shop, cousin Tori moved off to California in a bitter huff and the two haven't spoken since. So to have her cousin reappear on Mackinac Island without warning is a big surprise-but not as surprising as finding her standing over a dead woman impaled with a garden spade in the Mackinac Butterfly House. Butterflies may be free, but Tori won't be for much longer-unless the cousins can bury the hatchet and work together to catch a killer who's taken flight. Because when it comes to family, blood is thicker than fudge . . .

When a film crew comes to Mackinac Island, the last thing fudge shop owner Allie McMurphy expects to find is a murder victim . . . SHOT ON LOCATION It's Labor Day weekend, the official end of tourist season, and the beginning of a whole batch of trouble. First, the island is invaded by a TV crew filming a murder mystery pilot, and handsome Hollywood heartthrob Dirk Benjamin needs Allie's help to prep for his role as local cop Rex Manning. Then, Allie's bichonpoo Mal sniffs out a real murder in the alley behind the Historic McMurphy Hotel and Fudge Shop, a man shot in the head-with a note challenging amateur sleuth Allie to catch the culprit. Like it or not, the fudge maker has to square off against a crazy killer-but this time she may have bitten off more than she can chew . . .

Halloween on Mackinac Island is a season of fun tricks, but finding a corpse is no treat for fudge shop owner Allie McMurphy . . . NIGHT OF THE REALLY DEAD It's late October, off–season for tourists, but locals are up and lurching for the annual zombie walk charity event. Though everyone's living it up, trouble is just a few pawprints away. Allie follows the bloody tracks of her calico cat, Carmella, to a body in the alley behind the Historic McMurphy Hotel and Fudge Shop. Unlike the island's other walking dead, this one's flatlined for good. It seems that someone is using the zombie fest as the perfect backdrop for murder. Now amateur sleuth Allie and dreamboat officer Rex Manning must use every trick in their treat bag to unmask a killer in disguise.

Allie McMurphy lives the sweet life running her world-famous fudge shop on Mackinac Island-but when a killer strikes, she has to turn from creating confections to extracting confessions . . . TAKING A BITE OUT OF CRIME As a gesture of goodwill, Allie is bringing a tray of assorted fudge to her new husband's ex–wife, Melonie. But she finds Melonie's body on the floor of her photography studio-where a remote–controlled camera keeps snapping picture after picture. In one, she's alive, and in the next, she's dead. While Rowan Giles, another visitor to the shop, chatters nervously-and incessantly-Allie dials the police, though she encourages her husband to leave the case to another officer. Several unidentified people were leaving when she arrived on the scene. Nevertheless, Rowan is the top suspect, thanks to one thing she didn't talk about: her bitter relationship with Melonie. Was Rowan just stirring the pot with all her gossipy gabbing? Allie's not so sure. She's learning about some dark secrets in Melonie's past. And identifying an obvious suspect is one thing, but finding the truth is a whole other kettle of fudge . . .