Country Cottage 14 - A Winter Tail of Woe by Addison Moore & Bellamy Bloom

Author:Addison Moore & Bellamy Bloom [Moore, Addison & Bloom, Bellamy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Goodreads: 55876503
Publisher: Hollis Thatcher Press, LTD.
Published: 2021-02-11T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

“Books are hardly consumables,” Mom points out while having her lipstick expertly applied by the makeup artist provided by Hollis Carrington’s production team.

Two Old Broads is filled to the brim with men and women dressed in black, setting up lights, trolleys, and positioning cameras in three different locations.

“They’re actually quite consumable,” I tell her. Jasper and I ate that heated romance how-to book last night as if it were our very last meal.

Fish mewls, Did you know they have a book out for cats? The tabby that came to the inn last week told me so herself. It has pictures of mice darting around the pages and she sits for hours just staring at it. I’d rather like that.

“Ohh,” I squeal. “I’ll pick that up for you right away,” I whisper, kissing the top of her head.

Mom frowns over at me, and the makeup artist misses her upper lip by a mile. Speaking of the staff, Fern Tuttle has been running around like a production assistant with her head chopped off as she struggles to bring order to the chaos while carving out a cozy zone where these two old broads can hock their wares to unsuspecting viewers. But Hollis Carrington is a no-show so far. Hopefully, she’s just running a little late. I’m hoping to speak to the both of them before the day is through.

Mom sighs my way. “Honestly, Bizzy, I talk to my cats, too, but for some reason, you and Fish always seem to be having a two-way conversation going.”

Sherlock barks near her feet. Don’t forget about me.

“Oh you, too.” Mom gives Sherlock a pat on the back with her foot just as the makeup artist finishes up and takes off to spruce up Juni. “What do you think of this madness, Bizzy?”

“I think it’s madness.” I nod. “But hopefully the good kind that will translate into mad money. Any idea of what you’re going to do? What you’re going to talk about?”

“Are you kidding? That would take organization and planning. Something this one is actually allergic to.” She nods as Georgie runs up with a partially depleted tray of her magic brownies.

“Hey, good-lookin’”—Georgie thrusts the platter my way—“nosh on a few of these and I bet you’ll corner that handsome man of yours and demand a reread of that book you plowed through last night.” She offers me a brownie, and as tempted as I am, I’d better stay sharp as a tack if I want to grill Hollis. For some reason, alcohol, and I’m guessing other questionable mind-altering substances, only seem to magnify my supernatural quirk. The last time I found myself a little tipsy I ended up hearing everyone’s thoughts in what felt like a one-mile vicinity. It was a psychotic mess that I want no part in ever again.

“No thanks, Georgie,” I tell her. “How are you feeling? Are you nervous?”

“Are you kidding?” She takes a bite out of one of her brownies, and I won’t lie, it looks baked just the way I like it, a little crunchy on top and a little undercooked where it counts.

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