The Bite-sized Bakery Cozy Mystery MEGA Bundle

I slipped out of the guesthouse in the dead of night. The salty smell of the ocean and the gentle wash of waves on the beach greeted me. The moon hung heavy and full in the inky black sky. A chill breeze tugged at my thick woolen coat, cinched at the waist.

Spooky?

Not really.

Three a.m. was my favorite time of the night—it was ever so peaceful, and I got to spend the time I would’ve been tossing and turning in bed in my food truck instead.

Hey, that rhymes!

The adventure of being in a new town in Maine had my insomnia at an all-time high. How was a woman ’sposed to sleep with thoughts of lobster rolls and clambakes floating around?

I stopped in front of my food truck, a smile parting my lips. It was gorgeous, if I did say so myself. Candy-striped in pink-and-green pastels with a side window that opened out to serve the delicious baked goods we prepared fresh each day. Mostly Bee, my partner in baking, prepared them. I was still learning. But shoot, I was a good driver, at least.

The name “Bite-sized Bakery” was printed across the side of the truck in sweeping, curled letters. Pride swelled in my chest.

This was mine. All mine.

And I had this morning in Carmel Springs, right next to the beach, to admire it, get to work, and appreciate that I was finally done with the hurt hidden in my past.

“Have you heard about the ghost on Springs Wharf?” The voice floated out of the darkness behind me.

I let out a cry and threw up my arms. Unfortunately, I threw up the keys to my truck as well. They turned end-over-end once, then dropped on my head with a click. The merry jangle did nothing to help the sharp pain that came right after.

“Ow.” The keys slid off my head and dropped on the sandy grass next to the truck. I bent and swept them up, straightened, and glared at the man who’d startled me. “Ow.”

“Sorry about that,” the guy said. “I didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have crept up behind me then?” 

The shock had finally started wearing off, and I took him in properly. He wore a fully waterproof suit—jacket and pants—and thick boots. His eyes were as blue as the ocean, his smile charming, and his hair dark and cut short.

Not bad at all. Not that I cared, of course. I’d already had one man disappear on me. I wasn’t about to let another guy run off with my heart. Besides, I wouldn’t be in Carmel Springs longer than three or four weeks. After Bee and I had served our food, we’d be off to the next small town.

That was our plan—explore the quaintest towns across the country. We’d meet the locals and experience the food while serving our delicious cakes, cookies, and donuts.

The guy whistled under his breath, and, for one horrible moment, I was sure he was catcalling me. But no, his gaze had switched to the truck. “That’s a gorgeous piece of machinery you have there.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Look, I’m sorry, but can I help you with something? You stepped out of the dark talking about ghosts, and now you’re…”

“Oh, shoot, ha. That’s my bad. I got so caught up in, well, admiring you and your truck,” he said and offered me another charming smile. “I was trying to figure out the best way to approach you.”

“Why?” 

I’d always been too inquisitive for my own good.

“Because you’re pretty,” he replied. “And because I was hoping this here truck was open. Wanted to grab myself something sweet before I headed out.”

Is he… flirting with me? “Oh. Oh, well, we’re not open yet,” I said, awkwardly, trying to ignore the little voice in my head encouraging me to flirt back. “But, uh, I do have one of yesterday’s chocolate mini-cakes in the fridge. I can’t charge you for it, though. We only sell fresh.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, sure. Why not?” I’d planned on eating it for my morning snack, but the guesthouse would have a full breakfast at nine. I was set on trying everything this small town had to offer regarding cuisine. “Hold on a second while I get it.”

“Sure, that’s great. I’m Owen, by the way. Owen Pelletier.” 

He stuck out a hand.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. Ridiculous. It was a handshake, not a hug. 

“Ruby Holmes.”

“Pretty name to match your face.”

Sheesh. At thirty-six years old, I’d left flirting in the past, along with my disappearing ex and my twenties. 

“Wait right there,” I said and hurried to the side door of my truck. 

I unlocked it, the heels of my pumps clicking on the steps.

I returned with the boxed-up mini-cake. 

“Here you go,” I said.

“Thanks.” Owen opened the pink-and-green striped box. “We don’t get treats like this out on the water. I spotted your truck after we came in on the wharf yesterday evening. You were already closed, though.”

“Yeah, we’d had a long day of traveling. But we’ll be open all day today!” 

My voice was unnaturally loud in the quiet. I searched around for something to say since Owen had repeatedly stared at me or the cake. “Um. You mentioned the wharf earlier. And a… ghost?”

Owen chuckled. “Ayuh. Rumor has it, there’s a ghost of a woman who haunts the Springs Wharf. The legend says that she was the smitten lover of a fisherman who went out to sea and never came back. She spent every night waiting for him, but no news of what had happened ever came. She died of a broken heart, and now she walks the wharf, searching for him for all of eternity.”

“Creepy.” 

I didn’t like ghost stories. I preferred the real, the here, and the now.

“Really? I think it’s sweet.” He shrugged. “But I work that wharf every day, and I’ve never seen nothing.”

“You’re a fisherman?”

“Sternman on a lobster boat.” His chest puffed out. “Shoot! Speaking of, I gotta get back before the captain tans my hide for being tardy.” But Owen didn’t immediately rush off. He scuffed the grass with the underside of his boot. “Say, you want to have dinner with me? I know places where the leaf peepers don’t go.”

“What’s a leaf peeper?”

“Fall tourist.”

“So me, basically,” I said.

He laughed again. “Sure, but you’re different. I can tell. What do you say? Meet me at the Lobster Shack at eight? You can bring a friend if you’re scared.”

It seemed a challenge. And Owen didn’t scare me anyway. I had mace in my purse and a black belt in karate because self-defense was a girl’s best offense. 

A date.

 “Sure,” I said. “Why not?” 

There were a million reasons why not, but my mouth had betrayed me.

“Great!” 

Then he was off, hurrying down the road and away to the wharf—it was quite a way from the beach, past the pier, which was lit even now with quaint fairy lights and lampposts.

I let out a breath.

What a start to my first morning in Maine.

Then again, I’d hoped things would be exciting once Bee, and I got on the road, and so far, it looked like this town would deliver.