September Fair by Jess Lourey
By Jess Lourey
. . . a wholly attractive novel with pathos, plot twists, and quirky characters galore. fantastically written and wickedly humorous. —Harley Jane Kozak, Agatha, Anthony, and Macavity-award successful writer of A Date you cannot Refuse "Move over Janet Evanovich-mystery enthusiasts have a brand new cause to rejoice! September reasonable is enjoyable, humorous, and so cleverly written, you will be guessing until eventually the very end." —Gemma Halliday, best-selling writer ofMayhem in excessive Heels The Minnesota country Fair-the loved domestic of 4H indicates, halfway rides, and every thing on a stick. The pageant enjoyable is driving excessive until eventually the lately topped Milkfed Mary, Queen of the Dairy, a conflict Lake local, is brutally murdered whereas her regal likeness is carved in butter. Can Mira James, protecting the reasonable for the conflict Lake remember, disclose a perilous country reasonable mystery and win a blue ribbon for caging a killer? You guess your final deep-fried Nut Goodie! compliment for the Lefty Award-nominated Murder-by-Month sequence [star] ". . . hilarious, fast-paced, and madcap."—Booklist (starred evaluation) "Wonderfully funny."—Crimespree journal "Another a laugh story set within the city jam-packed with over-the-top zanies who have endeared themselves to the attractive Mira."—Kirkus
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Extra info for September Fair
Sample text
A brunette would have stood out like a turd in a salad bar in this bunch. It didn’t always work that way. Some years, a brown-haired girl could even win the Milkfed Mary, Queen of the Dairy title. But not this year. This year, the field was an Aryan army, with one Ashley Kirsten Pederson as its general. ” Ashley pouted when she asked. She couldn’t believe she was forced to spend another minute with these piglets, girls she definitely wouldn’t hang with in her hometown. Probably they were all farm girls, maybe even in 4-H.
I’m at the State Fair. In the Dairy building. ” “I think she’s dead. ” And I hung up, dropped the phone back in the woman’s purse, and made for the blue curtain from which a scream was still emanating, though it had grown fainter. Let’s get this straight. I wasn’t going back there to be a hero. The truth is, I’m no Wonder Woman. What I am is a lifelong prisoner of guilt, sometimes on work release but never far from my cell. That is, in a crisis I usually know what the appropriate action is, which leaves me two choices: act immediately, or prepare to get squashed beneath so many “what-ifs” and so paralyzed by fear of karma catching up with me that I will spend the next lifetime wishing I had acted, turning the missed moment over and over in my head like rosary beads.
We freeze it, bread it, fry it, and sprinkle powdered sugar over the top. Trust me. ” Not convinced, I turned away and sniffed at it. It smelled like a donut. Mrs. Berns nudged me. ” I bit in, expecting molten lava to sear my tongue to my teeth. Instead, my mouth was filled with warm, chocolatey, nutty, maple goodness. I moaned. ” “No, seriously. ” As she ducked her head in for a taste, I pulled the fried Nut Goodie back. “On second thought, I don’t think I can share. ” Mrs. Berns shook her head in disgust and took off toward the Dairy building.