A Dash of Deceit

A Festive Cozy Mystery Filled with Secrets and Suspicion

Snow is falling, the Christmas market is buzzing, and Eve Holdsworth is finally settling into her new life—complete with a happy relationship, loyal friends, and festive baking at the beloved “Green Dragon” stall. But holiday cheer turns to chaos when a woman collapses after biting into a piece of gingerbread, and whispers of poison begin to spread.

With the pub kitchen shut down and suspicion clouding everything they’ve worked for, Eve and her sharp-witted friend Hayley step in to uncover the truth. As rumors grow and loyalties are tested, they must figure out how the poisoned treat made its way into their stall—and who stood to gain from the scandal.

Set against a cozy backdrop of twinkling lights and winter charm, A Dash of Deceit blends small-town intrigue with festive atmosphere. With rivalries, misdirection, and a mystery that hinges on one crucial question—who was the real target?—this story delivers a satisfying and heartwarming holiday whodunit.

Discover the truth behind the Christmas market scandal—grab your copy of A Dash of Deceit today.

Excerpt from the book

Eve Holdsworth stumbled into the Green Dragon, a well-preserved Victorian building opposite the cobble-stoned village square. Only a last-minute grab of the bar rail prevented her from hitting the ground.

“Sorry,” mumbled the sharp-faced, brassy-haired woman who’d caused the mishap when she squeezed past Eve. Without further ado, she pushed on and towards the back of the pub, where the regulars held sway over the best tables, close to the dart board and with a perfect view over the rest of the room.

“That’s alright,” Eve said through gritted teeth. “Don’t mind me.”

“She can’t hear you,” Eve’s friend Hayley, co-owner and manager of the establishment, told her.

“If she could hear me, I’d have said something very different, believe me. Talk about rude.” Eve shrugged the incident off.

Considering that she hadn’t met her more than mature assailant before, despite having lived in the small town of Badger’s End for all of nine months and even solved a cold murder case shortly after her arrival which had brought her more attention than she wanted, she probably would not have the displeasure again.

“Wait a moment.” Hayley stopped pulling pints and stomped towards the regulars’ tables.

The brassy-haired woman had found another victim.

Only Bella, a cheerful sixtyish widow and the best hairdresser Eve had come across both in her dad’s native USA and here in England, was still sitting down. But the usually unflappable Bella glared daggers at her opponent who stood there, with her hands on her hips and her voice raised to a shriek.

Eve moved closer.

There was one free seat left at the next table where the Pink Panthers, a local bowling club Eve had joined together with Hayley, had fled, after callously deserting their star bowler Bella. She plonked down before anyone else could beat her to it.

“You’re making a fool of yourself, Patty,” Bella said.

“Oh, I am, am I?” Patty slapped down a flyer which announced the grand opening of “Harmony” hair and beauty salon a few miles away.

She fluffed her thin, shoulder-length locks which could have done with some of Bella’s love and attention. “I’ll have you know that Sandy will be happy to give me extensions. She says my face is crying out for soft, long locks. But you wouldn’t have that. Couldn’t stand me being prettier than you. All because you want Ronny all for yourself.” A drop of spittle shot out of her mouth.

Eve shared a horrified glance with Hayley.

“Everything okay, ladies?” Hayley’s smile had an edge that had stopped dozens of bar floor feuds before. Even the most belligerent customer tended to back down when Hayley Trowbridge used that tone of voice.

New customers saw a pretty woman in her early thirties who made everyone feel at ease. Eve saw a master strategist who could spot and stop trouble from half a mile away, or at least across the room.

“I wouldn’t touch your precious Ronald with a bargepole,” Bella said. “It wasn’t my fault he pestered me for a dance at our last outing. And it’s my duty as a stylist to say no to anything your hair can’t take. You have those extensions and you’ll be left with more bald spots than that mangy fur coat of yours.”