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Editorial Reviews
About the Author
JoAnna Carl is the pseudonym of a multipublished mystery writer. She spent more than twenty-five years in the newspaper business, working as a reporter, feature writer, editor and columnist. She holds a degree in journalism from the University of Oklahoma and also studied in the OU Professional Writing Program. She lives in Oklahoma but spends much of her summer at a cottage on Lake Michigan near several communities similar to the fictional town of Warner Pier.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Excerpt from Chapter 1
People thing working in a resort town is like long vacation. And it might be, if the tourists would only stay at home.
I stood behind the counter of TenHuis Chocolade (“Handmade chocolates in the Dutch tradition”) and hated the girl on the other side. I’d been working for my aunt and uncle, Nettie and Phil TenHuis, for only a week, and this girl had been in every day, apparently with the sole objective of ruining my life.
Her name, according to her credit card, was Alana Fairchild Hyden. She would have been pretty if she hadn’t been so thin. She was about my age – which was sixteen that year – and she had dark hair and big brown eyes, which she emphasized with liner, mascara, and shadow until they dominated her face.
Alana Fairchild Hyden was about the only teenaged customer TenHuis Chocolade ever drew, since Aunt Nettie and Uncle Phil’s candy wasn’t the kind you’d eat in the movies. Oh, they had some inexpensive items, like a milk chocolate sailboat on a stick, but most of their stock was luxury chocolates and fancy dipped fruits. One bonbon cost as much as two Hershey bars.
But Alana Fairchild Hyden came in every day and bought half a pound of bonbons and truffles, a different assortment every day. She did this, I’d decided, to torture me. She got this smirk on her face, and she went through the whole display case, pointing.
“Now what’s that one?”
Since I was new, I’d have to consult the list. “Creamy, European-style caramel in dark chocolate.”
“How about the one behind it?”
I’d look at the list again. “Raspberry cream.”
“No, the one with the yellow dot.”
“Lemon canache.”
“Yuk! How about the white chocolate with the little nutty things on top?”
That one I knew, because it was my favorite. “Amadeus,” I said. Then I winced. She’d goaded me until I was nervous, and that was when my tongue twisted itself into knots and the wrong word came out. “I mean, Amaretto.”
Of course, Alana Fairchild Hyden laughed. “’Amadeus’! How funny! How about the one at the back of that row?”
Back to the list. “Frangelico.”
“Frangelico? Just what the hell is that?”
“I’ll ask.” I turned toward the big window that overlooked the sparkling white room where middle-aged women in white aprons and hair nets produced the chocolates.
“Oh, never mind! You’d think people would train their employees. Give me four of the fudgy ones and four square ones with the white centers. Then I’ll have eight of the dark chocolate balls. The rummy ones.”
Seeting, I put her chocolates – four double fudge and four Bailey’s irsh Cream bonbons and eight Jamaican rum truffles – in a little white box with “TenHuis Chocolade” in the corner in classy type, and I tired the box with a blue ribbon. I ran her credit card through the imprinter, then pushed the receipt and the card across the counter.
“Here’s your crevasse card.” I tried to pretend I’d said it right, but Alana Fairchild Hyden laughed.
“You are such a sketch!” she said. I tried to look blank. Pleasant would have been more than I could manage. She went out, still laughing, leaving the shop empty, except for the other clerk, Lindy Bradford, and me.
“What a bitch,” Lindy said.
I felt crushed, as well as angry. Alana Fairchild Hyden completely destroyed my confidence. It’s just a stupid sales clerk job, I told myself, and I can’t do it right because I can’t talk like a normal person.
“Don’t worry about it, Lee,” Lindy said. “She acts rude just to cover up her own inferiority complex.”
I gulped hard and decided it was safe to talk. “Who is she?”
“Oh, she’s one of the Hydens. They have that big house at the lake end of Orchard Street. Her grandfather made his money building airplanes. My mother says her mother is trying to spend every cent her grandfather ever made. They’re summer people.”
In the week I’d been working at TenHuis Chocolade, I’d discovered there were three social classes in Warner Pier – locals, summer people, and tourists. Locals either lived there year-round, or they owned businesses there and spent most of the year in the area. Summer people owned homes – what us Texans would call “cabins,” but what these Michigan people called “cottages” – and spent several months there each year. Tourists came for periods ranging from a day to a month and rented rooms in the motels, inns, or bed and breakfasts.
So Alana Fairchild Hyden was a “summer person,” not a “tourist.” I sighed. “I guess shell be in every day until I leave in August.”
“Who knows?” Lindy reached into the showcase and straightened the Italian cherry creams. “I feel kinda sorry for her, I guess. She always comes in alone.” She shot me a sidelong glance. “Hey, three of us are going into Holland to the late show tonight. Ask your uncle if you can come. We’ll be home by twelve-thirty.”
“Not tonight,” I said, “But thanks.” Luckily, three people came in right then. I couldn’t tell if they were tourists or summer people, but I was glad for the distraction. Not that I didn’t appreciate Lindy acting friendly. I just wasn’t ready to be friendly back. While Lindy told the new customers that we didn’t carry candy bars, I stood there miserably and wished I was on the beach. Alone. Without the bag lady I’d seen that morning.
The beach was the best place to cry. That’s why I resented sharing it, especially with a bag lady.
The bag lady scared me. She looked like a homeless old hag, the kind you might see under a bridge in a big city. I hadn’t expected to run into someone like that on a Lake Michigan beach, down the road from Aunt Nettie and Uncle Phil’s house.
I kept telling myself she was harmless. But I still resented her. As I said – the beach was the best place I had to cry, and I didn’t want to meet anybody.
For one thing, I had always loved the Texas plains. I was used to lots of sky, and Michigan’s tall trees made me feel closed in and choked up. But from the beach I could see Lake Michigan stretching west to somewhere beyond the horizon, and it was easier to breathe.
But all I wanted to do down there was sit behind a clump of beach grass and let the tears roll. I had a lot to cry about that summer. I’d lost my family and my friends and had been exiled to work in a chocolate factory.
My privacy had gone at the same time. Now I was living with my Aunt Nettie and Uncle Phil, and the walls of their house – which had been built in 1904 – were too thin to hide sniffling. If I cried in bed at night, Aunt Nettie would creep upstairs to be sympathetic. If I declined her sympathy – after all, she was almost a stranger to me- they sat downstairs and talked about how unhappy I was. I could hear every word. Why couldn’t they leave me alone?
People thing working in a resort town is like long vacation. And it might be, if the tourists would only stay at home.
I stood behind the counter of TenHuis Chocolade (“Handmade chocolates in the Dutch tradition”) and hated the girl on the other side. I’d been working for my aunt and uncle, Nettie and Phil TenHuis, for only a week, and this girl had been in every day, apparently with the sole objective of ruining my life.
Her name, according to her credit card, was Alana Fairchild Hyden. She would have been pretty if she hadn’t been so thin. She was about my age – which was sixteen that year – and she had dark hair and big brown eyes, which she emphasized with liner, mascara, and shadow until they dominated her face.
Alana Fairchild Hyden was about the only teenaged customer TenHuis Chocolade ever drew, since Aunt Nettie and Uncle Phil’s candy wasn’t the kind you’d eat in the movies. Oh, they had some inexpensive items, like a milk chocolate sailboat on a stick, but most of their stock was luxury chocolates and fancy dipped fruits. One bonbon cost as much as two Hershey bars.
But Alana Fairchild Hyden came in every day and bought half a pound of bonbons and truffles, a different assortment every day. She did this, I’d decided, to torture me. She got this smirk on her face, and she went through the whole display case, pointing.
“Now what’s that one?”
Since I was new, I’d have to consult the list. “Creamy, European-style caramel in dark chocolate.”
“How about the one behind it?”
I’d look at the list again. “Raspberry cream.”
“No, the one with the yellow dot.”
“Lemon canache.”
“Yuk! How about the white chocolate with the little nutty things on top?”
That one I knew, because it was my favorite. “Amadeus,” I said. Then I winced. She’d goaded me until I was nervous, and that was when my tongue twisted itself into knots and the wrong word came out. “I mean, Amaretto.”
Of course, Alana Fairchild Hyden laughed. “’Amadeus’! How funny! How about the one at the back of that row?”
Back to the list. “Frangelico.”
“Frangelico? Just what the hell is that?”
“I’ll ask.” I turned toward the big window that overlooked the sparkling white room where middle-aged women in white aprons and hair nets produced the chocolates.
“Oh, never mind! You’d think people would train their employees. Give me four of the fudgy ones and four square ones with the white centers. Then I’ll have eight of the dark chocolate balls. The rummy ones.”
Seeting, I put her chocolates – four double fudge and four Bailey’s irsh Cream bonbons and eight Jamaican rum truffles – in a little white box with “TenHuis Chocolade” in the corner in classy type, and I tired the box with a blue ribbon. I ran her credit card through the imprinter, then pushed the receipt and the card across the counter.
“Here’s your crevasse card.” I tried to pretend I’d said it right, but Alana Fairchild Hyden laughed.
“You are such a sketch!” she said. I tried to look blank. Pleasant would have been more than I could manage. She went out, still laughing, leaving the shop empty, except for the other clerk, Lindy Bradford, and me.
“What a bitch,” Lindy said.
I felt crushed, as well as angry. Alana Fairchild Hyden completely destroyed my confidence. It’s just a stupid sales clerk job, I told myself, and I can’t do it right because I can’t talk like a normal person.
“Don’t worry about it, Lee,” Lindy said. “She acts rude just to cover up her own inferiority complex.”
I gulped hard and decided it was safe to talk. “Who is she?”
“Oh, she’s one of the Hydens. They have that big house at the lake end of Orchard Street. Her grandfather made his money building airplanes. My mother says her mother is trying to spend every cent her grandfather ever made. They’re summer people.”
In the week I’d been working at TenHuis Chocolade, I’d discovered there were three social classes in Warner Pier – locals, summer people, and tourists. Locals either lived there year-round, or they owned businesses there and spent most of the year in the area. Summer people owned homes – what us Texans would call “cabins,” but what these Michigan people called “cottages” – and spent several months there each year. Tourists came for periods ranging from a day to a month and rented rooms in the motels, inns, or bed and breakfasts.
So Alana Fairchild Hyden was a “summer person,” not a “tourist.” I sighed. “I guess shell be in every day until I leave in August.”
“Who knows?” Lindy reached into the showcase and straightened the Italian cherry creams. “I feel kinda sorry for her, I guess. She always comes in alone.” She shot me a sidelong glance. “Hey, three of us are going into Holland to the late show tonight. Ask your uncle if you can come. We’ll be home by twelve-thirty.”
“Not tonight,” I said, “But thanks.” Luckily, three people came in right then. I couldn’t tell if they were tourists or summer people, but I was glad for the distraction. Not that I didn’t appreciate Lindy acting friendly. I just wasn’t ready to be friendly back. While Lindy told the new customers that we didn’t carry candy bars, I stood there miserably and wished I was on the beach. Alone. Without the bag lady I’d seen that morning.
The beach was the best place to cry. That’s why I resented sharing it, especially with a bag lady.
The bag lady scared me. She looked like a homeless old hag, the kind you might see under a bridge in a big city. I hadn’t expected to run into someone like that on a Lake Michigan beach, down the road from Aunt Nettie and Uncle Phil’s house.
I kept telling myself she was harmless. But I still resented her. As I said – the beach was the best place I had to cry, and I didn’t want to meet anybody.
For one thing, I had always loved the Texas plains. I was used to lots of sky, and Michigan’s tall trees made me feel closed in and choked up. But from the beach I could see Lake Michigan stretching west to somewhere beyond the horizon, and it was easier to breathe.
But all I wanted to do down there was sit behind a clump of beach grass and let the tears roll. I had a lot to cry about that summer. I’d lost my family and my friends and had been exiled to work in a chocolate factory.
My privacy had gone at the same time. Now I was living with my Aunt Nettie and Uncle Phil, and the walls of their house – which had been built in 1904 – were too thin to hide sniffling. If I cried in bed at night, Aunt Nettie would creep upstairs to be sympathetic. If I declined her sympathy – after all, she was almost a stranger to me- they sat downstairs and talked about how unhappy I was. I could hear every word. Why couldn’t they leave me alone?
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More About the Author
JoAnna Carl is the pseudonym for a multipublished mystery writer. She spent more than twenty-five years in the newspaper business.
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Most Helpful Customer Reviews
43 of 44 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Three Delicious Novels,
By Mark Baker (Santa Clarita, CA United States) - See all my reviews (TOP 500 REVIEWER) (HALL OF FAME REVIEWER) (REAL NAME)
This review is from: Crime de Cocoa: Three Chocoholic Mysteries (Chocoholic Mystery) (Mass Market Paperback)
The Chocoholic Mystery is a light, cozy series focuses on Lee McKinney, who helps her aunt run a high-end chocolate shop in the resort town of Warner Pier, Michigan. From time to time, crime finds it way into the town, and Lee winds up right in the middle of the danger, sorting things out in the end. This book collects the first three volumes in the series in one large soft cover book, along with the short story that first introduced the characters.
The book starts with "The Chocolate Kidnapping Clue," a short story that originally appeared in the book AND THE DYING IS EASY. In it, a teenage Lee spends the summer in Warner Pier while her parents go through a nasty divorce. She spends her afternoons working in her uncle and aunt's TenHuis Chocolade shop. Every afternoon, another teen girl comes in and gives Lee a hard time before buying some chocolates. But then the girl is kidnapped. Who would do such a thing in the small town? The first official book of the series was THE CHOCOLATE CAT CAPER. A now grown Lee moves back to Warner Pier after her own divorce to help her recently widowed Aunt Nettie run TenHuis Chocolade. Lee's hardly been back in town when infamous defense lawyer Clementine Ripley is poisoned with a custom made chocolate from their shop. Not wanting to let their name be pulled through the mud, Lee decides to look into murder herself. Next up is THE CHOCOLATE BEAR BURGLARY. When Lee's stepson shows up unannounced, Lee is hardly too pleased. But she and Aunt Nettie put him to work in the shop. After all, with the teddy bear promotion in town, they could use the extra help. But then antique chocolate molds are stolen from the shop and the antique dealer who lent them out is murdered. Even more unfortunately, Lee's stepson in the sheriff's top suspect and doesn't have an alibi for the crimes. Lee's going to have to work fast to clear him. Finally comes THE CHOCOLATE FROG FRAME-UP. Everyone fights with town crank Hershel Perkins. But Lee's boyfriend Joe had the unfortunate distinction of doing so right before he disappears. While the evidence continues to mount, Lee searches for the truth so her flame does wind up behind bars. As I mentioned earlier, this is a light series. The plots are strong but not as complex as they might be. I often figure them out before the end. What helps pull the series along is the characters. Lee, especially, is a strong woman who doesn't stop until she finds the answers she is looking for. She does have a speech impediment that causes her to mix up words when she's nervous. While this can get annoying, it is toned down the further into the series you go. The rest of the regulars in the small town are nice people I'd love to spend time with in real life. They, combined with the setting, make for a cozy small town feel that is fun to visit. There are plenty of chocolate descriptions in these pages. I might have drool on a few of mine. The one curiosity is the "Chocolate Chat." Several times in each book, the author throws in some chocolate trivia. It doesn't tie into the mystery at all, but is there instead of the recipes like you might expect from a book like this. I enjoy them, although the author does seem to be running out of things to say about chocolate. This series won't tax your brain, but it will entertain you. If that's what you want, this is the place to look. If you prefer your mysteries with more of an edge, keep moving. This series isn't for you.
11 of 11 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Excellent ~ Brilliant ~ Satisfying,
By Ruth A. Caldwell "Highland Princess Mum" (Walnut Creek, CA United States) - See all my reviews (REAL NAME)
This review is from: Crime de Cocoa: Three Chocoholic Mysteries (Chocoholic Mystery) (Mass Market Paperback)
To say I read too fast, is an understatement. When I picked this up at the book store, I was delighted by the cover and the excellent blurb describing the story... I was disappointed upon arriving home to read the other blurbs describing three other stories, that seemed to be the beginning of a series. I thought I should go back to the bookstore and find those first, but the temptation to read was too much. Imagine my delight to find out ALL four stories are included in this one book.
Mark Baker's review says it all. I cannot possibly tell you more than he did, other than to say... Excellent JoAnna Carl! Well done and I look forward to more!
7 of 7 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
Sweet mystery...,
By Judy Brown Eyes (Texas) - See all my reviews
Amazon Verified Purchase(What's this?)
This review is from: Crime de Cocoa: Three Chocoholic Mysteries (Chocoholic Mystery) (Mass Market Paperback)
Creme de Cocoa is a good way to start this series, as it offers 3 books in one volume plus the short story that started it all. Lee McKinney, is a young Texan devorcee in financial straits, who comes to help her aunt with the business finances of her high-end chocolate shop in the small resort town, Warner Pier, in cold cold Michigan. The book starts with "The Chocolate Kidnapping Clue,". This is the short story that begins Lee's association with solving murders. Here we meet a teenage Lee, who is spending the summer in Warner Pier while her parents are getting a divorce. She works in her uncle and aunt's TenHuis Chocolade shop and the girl who comes in every day to buy chocolate, and who gives Lee a hard time, is kidnapped. Lee accidently sees something on the beach that helps to solve this mystery.
THE CHOCOLATE CAT CAPER is the first book in the volume and here we once again meet Lee who comes back to Warner Pier after her own divorce to help her recently widowed Aunt Nettie run TenHuis Chocolade. Lee delivers chocolate to the home of an infamous defense lawyer Clementine Ripley, and when Clementine is poisoned with a chocolate from their shop, Lee decides to look into murder herself to save her aunt's business from ruin. In THE CHOCOLATE BEAR BURGLARY, Lee's stepson shows up in Warner Pier. He has left college and Lee, who can't locate his parents, invites him to stay at Aunt Netty's house and they put him to work in the shop. When an antique chocolate mold is stolen from the shop and the antique dealer who lent it out is murdered, Lee's stepson is suspected of the crime. Lee knows he's innocent and is determined to find the real killer. In THE CHOCOLATE FROG FRAME-UP, Hershel Perkins, who is mentally ill, disappears. Lee's boyfriend, Joe, had recently had an altercation with Hershel, so he becomes the prime suspect and the evidence against him continues to mount. Lee searches for the truth, knowing that Joe is incapable of hurting anyone. These books are fun as well as "delicious" to read. THe lore and legend of chocolate is interspered through out the books and adds interest to the stories. Lee's speech impediment, mixing up words when she's stressed, is annoying at times, but it lessens as you proceed through the books. Aunt Netty is a great character, kind, practical and nurturing to Lee and others. Lee is a strong young woman determined to make a new life for herself. The rest of the regulars in the small town are people we all would like to know, and the small town atmosphere adds to the cozy feeling of the books. This series is entertaining and fun, and you will enjoy the chocolate trivia that is an addition to the books.
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Inside This Book
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First Sentence:
People think working in a resort town is like one long vacation. Read the first page Key Phrases - Statistically Improbable Phrases (SIPs): (learn more)
hairnet ladies, black panel truck, amaretto truffle, chocolate vats, chocolate molds, antique molds, molded chocolate, showplace home, chocolate business, broken taillight, black nightgown, boat shop, lucky stone Key Phrases - Capitalized Phrases (CAPs): (learn more)
Warner Pier, Chief Jones, Clementine Ripley, Grand Rapids, Joe Woodyard, Root Beer Barrel, Mike Herrera, Duncan Ainsley, Lake Shore Drive, Dock Street, Greg Glossop, Lake Michigan, Gray Gables, Gail Hess, Jerry Cherry, Timothy Hart, Mercy Woodyard, Warner River, Hogan Jones, Trey Corbett, Champion Yonkers, Celia Carmichael, Frank Waterloo, Hershel Perkins, Patsy Waterloo New!
Concordance | Text Stats Browse Sample Pages:
Front Cover | Table of Contents | First Pages | Back Cover | Surprise Me!
People think working in a resort town is like one long vacation. Read the first page Key Phrases - Statistically Improbable Phrases (SIPs): (learn more)
hairnet ladies, black panel truck, amaretto truffle, chocolate vats, chocolate molds, antique molds, molded chocolate, showplace home, chocolate business, broken taillight, black nightgown, boat shop, lucky stone Key Phrases - Capitalized Phrases (CAPs): (learn more)
Warner Pier, Chief Jones, Clementine Ripley, Grand Rapids, Joe Woodyard, Root Beer Barrel, Mike Herrera, Duncan Ainsley, Lake Shore Drive, Dock Street, Greg Glossop, Lake Michigan, Gray Gables, Gail Hess, Jerry Cherry, Timothy Hart, Mercy Woodyard, Warner River, Hogan Jones, Trey Corbett, Champion Yonkers, Celia Carmichael, Frank Waterloo, Hershel Perkins, Patsy Waterloo New!
Concordance | Text Stats Browse Sample Pages:
Front Cover | Table of Contents | First Pages | Back Cover | Surprise Me!
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