Murder Can Haunt Your Handiwork
A Haunted Craft Fair Mystery
by Rose Pressey
About Murder Can Haunt Your Handiwork
Murder Can Haunt Your Handiwork
A Gilded Age ghost helps psychic painter Celeste Cabot catch a killer . .
Rising up against the beautiful backdrop of the Blue Ridge Mountains, the Biltmore Estate is a magnificent mansion in Asheville, North Carolina, built as a summer home for George Washington Vanderbilt II—yes, of those Vanderbilts—during the Gilded Age. Nowadays, it’s the site of an annual craft fair. Unfortunately, it’s also about to become a crime scene . . .
Celeste is hard to miss as she pulls up with her pink and white Shasta trailer and adorable Chihuahua, Van Gogh—Van for short. But before she can show off her artwork at the fair, a tour guide is found strangled by a velvet rope barrier and a valuable painting goes missing. With a rogues’ gallery of sketchy suspects, Celeste welcomes the help of a pair of handsome detectives—and a ghost with a special interest in the case . . .
Includes tips and recipes!
About Rose Pressey
Rose Pressey is the USA Today bestselling author of the Haunted Craft Fair Mysteries and the Haunted Vintage Mystery Series. She enjoys writing quirky and fun novels with a paranormal twist. The paranormal has always captured her interest. The thought of finding answers to the unexplained fascinates her.
When she’s not writing about werewolves, vampires, and every other supernatural creature, she loves eating cupcakes with sprinkles, reading, spending time with family, and listening to oldies from the fifties. Yeah, she loves Elvis. She can’t help myself.
Rose lives in the beautiful commonwealth of Kentucky with her husband, son, and three sassy Chihuahuas.
Author Links
My Thoughts
Murder Can Haunt Your Handiwork by Rose Pressey an amusing cozy mystery.
Celeste Cabot is on the Biltmore Estate in Asheville, North Carolina for
the Fifth Annual Biltmore Estate Craft Fair.
She was touring the Biltmore Mansion with her family until her father
and brothers got them kicked out.
Celeste realizes she has lost her keys and returns to look for
them. Instead of her keys, Celeste finds
a strangled female employee. Celeste
returns to her pink-and-white trailer where she is compelled to paint a man
from a time long past. When the ghost of
the man in the painting appears, Celeste knows that she must get answers regarding
the murder. Murder Can Haunt Your Handiwork is the 3rd
A Haunted Craft Fair Mystery. Everything
a new reader needs to know is included. I
thought Murder Can Haunt Your Handiwork was easy to read thanks to Rose Pressey’s
engaging writing style. Celeste Cabot is
a quirky main character who makes her living by selling her paintings at craft
fairs. She has a cute pink truck which
pulls her pink-and-white vintage trailer.
Celeste has an adorable Chihuahua named Van (after Van Gogh because of
his floppy ear). Celeste’s family is in
Asheville with her along with her best friend, Sammi and her two detective love
interests, Caleb Ward and Pierce Meyer.
I do not know how Celeste puts up with her family. The father and brothers would drive me crazy
within five minutes (they are always getting into or causing trouble). Celeste’s grandmother is a sweetie. I liked the ghost, Mr. Vanderbilt. He made some funnbily remarks. I would have liked to know more about him and
the reason for his appearance. The
mystery was straightforward. There was a
small suspect pool and pointed clues. Celeste
follows suspects, asks questions, and eavesdrops on conversations. She is told repeatedly to stay out of the
investigation by Caleb and Pierce (she ignores them both). Murder Can Haunt Your Handiwork is a droll cozy mystery with a mysterious
manifestation, an executed employee, spooky paintings, a frenzied family, and a
prying painter.
Excerpt
A loud crash echoed across the
expanse of the massive room. Screams soon followed. Somehow, I knew the sounds
were related to my brothers and/or my father.
They were always in the middle
of the chaos. If something destructive happened near them, then they were
somehow typically involved.
I dashed around the corner and
saw my brother Stevie standing behind the red velvet barrier rope. The space
had been blocked off so that tourists would know to stay out. Either my brother
chose to ignore the rope and the KEEP OUT warning signs, or he truly was
clueless. Honestly, I thought he was just kind of oblivious. My brothers never
meant harm. They just lived in their own little world.
My other brother, Hank, stood
behind the rope barrier, too. Which one had knocked over the KEEP OUT sign?
Fortunately, the large ceramic urn nearby, which I knew had to be an expensive
piece of artwork, had survived the Cabot tornados. What did they think the KEEP
OUT sign was there for, anyway? The piece had to be pricey and of significant
importance, since it was featured on top of a pedestal column at the Biltmore
Estate. Yes, my brothers were a walking disaster. It was no wonder, though.
Their clumsiness combined with their muscular physiques made the right mix for
disaster.
My family and I were currently
touring the magnificent Biltmore mansion in Asheville, North Carolina. My
family included my mother, father, grandmother, and two brothers. Now I
questioned why I had agreed to come along with them for the tour. Obviously, I’d
been wrong when I’d thought they could behave themselves, even for a short time.
My petite, gray-haired
grandmother stood a good distance away from us, clinging to her brown
pocketbook as if she might have to make a quick escape. Probably good thinking
on her part. This wasn’t her first rodeo with this bunch.
My mother clutched her pearl
necklace as if the jewelry would save her from fainting. I’d picked out the
necklace that my father had given her for their thirtieth anniversary. She’d
pretended she believed he’d chosen the pearls, but she’d winked at me,
indicating that she thought I’d made a perfect selection. Sometimes when I saw
my mother, it was like seeing my own reflection. The resemblance was uncanny,
since we both have dark hair and big brown eyes the shade of one of my favorite
things—decadent chocolate.
“I don’t know how I managed to
get through over thirty years of this much chaos,” my mother said.
Kris
The Avid Reader
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