Have you BEAN THERE, DONE THAT? (#3 Maggy Thorsen Coffeehouse Mystery)

[SandraBalzo]

Bean There, Done That
By Sandra Balzo
Earned a Kirkus Starred Review
". . . crisp dialogue, complex characters and a puzzle that can't be beat."

Bean There, Done That is the third Maggy Thorsen Mystery. The first four books in the now six-book series are available for $2.99 each on Kindle.

The Maggy Thorsen Mysteries Also by Sandra Balzo



An excerpt from BEAN THERE, DONE THAT:

Here’s a tip: if your ex-husband’s mistress-cum-missus asks for your help in proving that he cheated on her while he was married to you, just say no.

And, whatever you do, don’t invite her in for a cup of coffee.

‘Wine?’ I asked, stepping aside to let Rachel Slattery, now Rachel Slattery Thorsen, pass by.

Rachel frowned, wrinkling her pert little nose as she moved into my living room. ‘It’s a bit early for me, Maggy,’ she said. ‘But maybe . . . a mimosa?’

Of course. Let me just pop some champagne to celebrate her arrival. ‘It was my morning to open the store.’ I said. ‘To me, noon is the new five o’clock.’

I don’t know why I was bothering to explain. I’d started my coffeehouse, Uncommon Grounds, only because Ted, my former husband and Rachel’s current one, dumped me for her. Ted being a dentist and Rachel his hygienist, they’d apparently fallen in love over the spit sink.

Anyway, my point is that when you got right down to it, it was Rachel’s fault I had been upright and brewing coffee at five thirty a.m. ‘It’s wine or nothing.’

‘A white Zin?’

The next best thing to nothing. ‘Coming up!’

I left her with Frank, the sheepdog I inherited when my son Eric went off to college in Minnesota, and headed for the kitchen. Behind me, I heard Frank rouse himself and then, with a groan, settle back down on the hearth of the unlighted fireplace. At least one male in the family wasn’t enamored of Rachel.

I poured the leavings of a bottle of red Zinfandel into a glass for her and topped it off with flat 7-UP. Then I opened a fresh bottle of old vine Zin for myself.

When I went back in, Rachel was seated on the couch. She was wearing a short skirt and boots and, I had to admit, looked adorable. Lucky Ted: he’d managed to snag a younger woman just as the dress code he’d loved so much the first time around – minis, boots, platform shoes – cycled back into fashion.

‘Thank you,’ Rachel said, accepting the glass from me and sipping delicately. ‘Ooooo, this is delicious.’

‘I thought you’d like it.’ I took a bracing belt of my real Zin. Then I sank into the chair across from her. ‘Now, tell me again why you’re here?’

‘It’s really quite simple.’ She set down her glass. ‘Ted told me that you save all your old calendars. Stack them up for years. I was hoping I could take a little peek.’

The subject of my calendars probably came up as Ted was telling her what an unrepentant pack-rat I was. I thought I was merely being prudent. Want to know when in 1996 we’d gone to the Bahamas? I could tell you. Not to mention, what year we put a new roof on the house, the day the refrigerator repairman came in 2004, or the exact date and time of our son Eric’s high school graduation party. Which, coincidentally, was the day before Ted dropped the R-bomb.

‘And you want these because . . .’

‘I already told you.’ Rachel rolled her eyes. ‘You wrote down where Ted went for conferences and training.’

‘That’s true,’ I admitted. ‘Along with where he was staying and, before cellulars, a contact phone number.’

‘I’m interested in more recent trips, say, the two years before he . . . uh, left you.’

For her.

‘You mean the two years he was bopping you?’ I asked pleasantly.

‘Well, yes.’ She tugged down her skirt and gave me a nervous smile.

‘Don’t you know where he was?’ I asked. ‘Weren’t you with him on all those trips?’

Rachel leaned forward. ‘That’s what I thought,’ she said in a low voice. ‘But apparently not.’

‘Hard as it might be for you to imagine, I suppose Ted could have gone to a legitimate dental conference or two without you.’ Though looking at Little Miss Tooth De-Lay, with her short skirt and long legs, it was pretty hard for even me to imagine it.

‘You don’t keep trophies from dental conferences,’ Rachel said, rifling through her patent leather YSL tote. YSL, as in Yves Saint Laurent. Rachel should know something about trophies. She was one.

‘Excuse me?’ I asked politely.

She came out with a stack of plastic rectangles. ‘Trophies,’ Rachel repeated, handing them to me.

‘These are key cards.’ I shuffled through them quickly. ‘From hotels.’

‘Exactly.’

I shrugged. ‘So you want to turn him in for not returning his room key to the desk?’

‘You just don’t get it, do you?’ Rachel leapt up dramatically. ‘He’s been cheating on me. Now and then.’

She pointed to the keys and burst into tears.

Bean There, Done That is the third Maggy Thorsen Mystery. The first four books in the series are now available for $2.99 each on Kindle. Check them out!

The Maggy Thorsen Mysteries Also by Sandra Balzo

[SandraBalzo]

In Nashville, visiting the fabulous Mysteries and More indie bookstore tomorrow morning to sign.  Had a GREAT time at the World Mystery Convention, and I'm energized to be heading home to work!

All the best,
Sandy

[SandraBalzo]

Bean There, Done That
By Sandra Balzo
Earned a Kirkus Starred Review
". . . crisp dialogue, complex characters and a puzzle that can't be beat."

Bean There, Done That is the third Maggy Thorsen Mystery. The first four books in the now six-book series are available for $2.99 each on Kindle.

The Maggy Thorsen Mysteries Also by Sandra Balzo



An excerpt from BEAN THERE, DONE THAT:

Here’s a tip: if your ex-husband’s mistress-cum-missus asks for your help in proving that he cheated on her while he was married to you, just say no.

And, whatever you do, don’t invite her in for a cup of coffee.

‘Wine?’ I asked, stepping aside to let Rachel Slattery, now Rachel Slattery Thorsen, pass by.

Rachel frowned, wrinkling her pert little nose as she moved into my living room. ‘It’s a bit early for me, Maggy,’ she said. ‘But maybe . . . a mimosa?’

Of course. Let me just pop some champagne to celebrate her arrival. ‘It was my morning to open the store.’ I said. ‘To me, noon is the new five o’clock.’

I don’t know why I was bothering to explain. I’d started my coffeehouse, Uncommon Grounds, only because Ted, my former husband and Rachel’s current one, dumped me for her. Ted being a dentist and Rachel his hygienist, they’d apparently fallen in love over the spit sink.

Anyway, my point is that when you got right down to it, it was Rachel’s fault I had been upright and brewing coffee at five thirty a.m. ‘It’s wine or nothing.’

‘A white Zin?’

The next best thing to nothing. ‘Coming up!’

I left her with Frank, the sheepdog I inherited when my son Eric went off to college in Minnesota, and headed for the kitchen. Behind me, I heard Frank rouse himself and then, with a groan, settle back down on the hearth of the unlighted fireplace. At least one male in the family wasn’t enamored of Rachel.

I poured the leavings of a bottle of red Zinfandel into a glass for her and topped it off with flat 7-UP. Then I opened a fresh bottle of old vine Zin for myself.

When I went back in, Rachel was seated on the couch. She was wearing a short skirt and boots and, I had to admit, looked adorable. Lucky Ted: he’d managed to snag a younger woman just as the dress code he’d loved so much the first time around – minis, boots, platform shoes – cycled back into fashion.

‘Thank you,’ Rachel said, accepting the glass from me and sipping delicately. ‘Ooooo, this is delicious.’

‘I thought you’d like it.’ I took a bracing belt of my real Zin. Then I sank into the chair across from her. ‘Now, tell me again why you’re here?’

‘It’s really quite simple.’ She set down her glass. ‘Ted told me that you save all your old calendars. Stack them up for years. I was hoping I could take a little peek.’

The subject of my calendars probably came up as Ted was telling her what an unrepentant pack-rat I was. I thought I was merely being prudent. Want to know when in 1996 we’d gone to the Bahamas? I could tell you. Not to mention, what year we put a new roof on the house, the day the refrigerator repairman came in 2004, or the exact date and time of our son Eric’s high school graduation party. Which, coincidentally, was the day before Ted dropped the R-bomb.

‘And you want these because . . .’

‘I already told you.’ Rachel rolled her eyes. ‘You wrote down where Ted went for conferences and training.’

‘That’s true,’ I admitted. ‘Along with where he was staying and, before cellulars, a contact phone number.’

‘I’m interested in more recent trips, say, the two years before he . . . uh, left you.’

For her.

‘You mean the two years he was bopping you?’ I asked pleasantly.

‘Well, yes.’ She tugged down her skirt and gave me a nervous smile.

‘Don’t you know where he was?’ I asked. ‘Weren’t you with him on all those trips?’

Rachel leaned forward. ‘That’s what I thought,’ she said in a low voice. ‘But apparently not.’

‘Hard as it might be for you to imagine, I suppose Ted could have gone to a legitimate dental conference or two without you.’ Though looking at Little Miss Tooth De-Lay, with her short skirt and long legs, it was pretty hard for even me to imagine it.

‘You don’t keep trophies from dental conferences,’ Rachel said, rifling through her patent leather YSL tote. YSL, as in Yves Saint Laurent. Rachel should know something about trophies. She was one.

‘Excuse me?’ I asked politely.

She came out with a stack of plastic rectangles. ‘Trophies,’ Rachel repeated, handing them to me.

‘These are key cards.’ I shuffled through them quickly. ‘From hotels.’

‘Exactly.’

I shrugged. ‘So you want to turn him in for not returning his room key to the desk?’

‘You just don’t get it, do you?’ Rachel leapt up dramatically. ‘He’s been cheating on me. Now and then.’

She pointed to the keys and burst into tears.

Bean There, Done That is the third Maggy Thorsen Mystery. The first four books in the series are now available for $2.99 each on Kindle. Check them out!

The Maggy Thorsen Mysteries Also by Sandra Balzo

[SandraBalzo]

Rainy morning in the mountains--perfect time to write. Working on the next book in my second series, Main Street Mysteries!

[SandraBalzo]

Reviews are starting to come in for Triple Shot, the seventh Maggy Thorsen coffeehouse mystery, and they continue to be stellar.  Triple Shot will be out December 1st in hardcover for $27.95, but the first four Maggy Thorsen mysteries are now available on Kindle for just $2.99.  Time to fire up that Kindle (or kindle your Fire :-) and get in on the Grounds floor!

". . . stimulating seventh Maggy Thorsen mystery . . . This amusing, well-written entry should win Balzo more fans."
Publisher Weekly

"Maggy is on-site to put the pieces together, becoming an instant Internet sensation. Multiple bodies notwithstanding, this is appealing, lighthearted fare.
Booklist

". . . affirms this series remains one of the best gourmet amateur sleuths on the market."
The Mystery Gazette

"[Maggy Thorsen Mystery series] has taken on the maturity of a seasoned, well-grounded series that both feels comfortable to sink into, but had been updated enough to bring readers new enthusiasm and enjoyment. Highly recommended."
Bookreaders Heaven

The Maggy Thorsen Mysteries Also by Sandra Balzo

[SandraBalzo]

Bean There, Done That
By Sandra Balzo
Earned a Kirkus Starred Review
". . . crisp dialogue, complex characters and a puzzle that can't be beat."

Bean There, Done That is the third Maggy Thorsen Mystery. The first four books in the now six-book series are available for $2.99 each on Kindle.

The Maggy Thorsen Mysteries Also by Sandra Balzo



An excerpt from BEAN THERE, DONE THAT:

Here’s a tip: if your ex-husband’s mistress-cum-missus asks for your help in proving that he cheated on her while he was married to you, just say no.

And, whatever you do, don’t invite her in for a cup of coffee.

‘Wine?’ I asked, stepping aside to let Rachel Slattery, now Rachel Slattery Thorsen, pass by.

Rachel frowned, wrinkling her pert little nose as she moved into my living room. ‘It’s a bit early for me, Maggy,’ she said. ‘But maybe . . . a mimosa?’

Of course. Let me just pop some champagne to celebrate her arrival. ‘It was my morning to open the store.’ I said. ‘To me, noon is the new five o’clock.’

I don’t know why I was bothering to explain. I’d started my coffeehouse, Uncommon Grounds, only because Ted, my former husband and Rachel’s current one, dumped me for her. Ted being a dentist and Rachel his hygienist, they’d apparently fallen in love over the spit sink.

Anyway, my point is that when you got right down to it, it was Rachel’s fault I had been upright and brewing coffee at five thirty a.m. ‘It’s wine or nothing.’

‘A white Zin?’

The next best thing to nothing. ‘Coming up!’

I left her with Frank, the sheepdog I inherited when my son Eric went off to college in Minnesota, and headed for the kitchen. Behind me, I heard Frank rouse himself and then, with a groan, settle back down on the hearth of the unlighted fireplace. At least one male in the family wasn’t enamored of Rachel.

I poured the leavings of a bottle of red Zinfandel into a glass for her and topped it off with flat 7-UP. Then I opened a fresh bottle of old vine Zin for myself.

When I went back in, Rachel was seated on the couch. She was wearing a short skirt and boots and, I had to admit, looked adorable. Lucky Ted: he’d managed to snag a younger woman just as the dress code he’d loved so much the first time around – minis, boots, platform shoes – cycled back into fashion.

‘Thank you,’ Rachel said, accepting the glass from me and sipping delicately. ‘Ooooo, this is delicious.’

‘I thought you’d like it.’ I took a bracing belt of my real Zin. Then I sank into the chair across from her. ‘Now, tell me again why you’re here?’

‘It’s really quite simple.’ She set down her glass. ‘Ted told me that you save all your old calendars. Stack them up for years. I was hoping I could take a little peek.’

The subject of my calendars probably came up as Ted was telling her what an unrepentant pack-rat I was. I thought I was merely being prudent. Want to know when in 1996 we’d gone to the Bahamas? I could tell you. Not to mention, what year we put a new roof on the house, the day the refrigerator repairman came in 2004, or the exact date and time of our son Eric’s high school graduation party. Which, coincidentally, was the day before Ted dropped the R-bomb.

‘And you want these because . . .’

‘I already told you.’ Rachel rolled her eyes. ‘You wrote down where Ted went for conferences and training.’

‘That’s true,’ I admitted. ‘Along with where he was staying and, before cellulars, a contact phone number.’

‘I’m interested in more recent trips, say, the two years before he . . . uh, left you.’

For her.

‘You mean the two years he was bopping you?’ I asked pleasantly.

‘Well, yes.’ She tugged down her skirt and gave me a nervous smile.

‘Don’t you know where he was?’ I asked. ‘Weren’t you with him on all those trips?’

Rachel leaned forward. ‘That’s what I thought,’ she said in a low voice. ‘But apparently not.’

‘Hard as it might be for you to imagine, I suppose Ted could have gone to a legitimate dental conference or two without you.’ Though looking at Little Miss Tooth De-Lay, with her short skirt and long legs, it was pretty hard for even me to imagine it.

‘You don’t keep trophies from dental conferences,’ Rachel said, rifling through her patent leather YSL tote. YSL, as in Yves Saint Laurent. Rachel should know something about trophies. She was one.

‘Excuse me?’ I asked politely.

She came out with a stack of plastic rectangles. ‘Trophies,’ Rachel repeated, handing them to me.

‘These are key cards.’ I shuffled through them quickly. ‘From hotels.’

‘Exactly.’

I shrugged. ‘So you want to turn him in for not returning his room key to the desk?’

‘You just don’t get it, do you?’ Rachel leapt up dramatically. ‘He’s been cheating on me. Now and then.’

She pointed to the keys and burst into tears.

Bean There, Done That is the third Maggy Thorsen Mystery. The first four books in the series are now available for $2.99 each on Kindle. Check them out!

The Maggy Thorsen Mysteries Also by Sandra Balzo

[SandraBalzo]

Reviews are starting to come in for Triple Shot, the seventh Maggy Thorsen coffeehouse mystery, and they continue to be stellar.  Triple Shot will be out December 1st in hardcover for $27.95, but the first four Maggy Thorsen mysteries are available on Kindle and now through New Year's, they'll feature a bonus: a sampling of my favorite simple (very necessary for me :-) food and drink recipes -- all for just $2.99!

Here's one of them:

Eggnog Latte

1 shot quality espresso
10 oz steamed eggnog ("lite" eggnog works best for frothing)
Cinnamon and/or nutmeg for dusting
 
Combine espresso and steamed eggnog in a latte mug. Dust with cinnamon and nutmeg and enjoy with good book :-)

Wishing you the best of the holidays,
Sandy
www.SandraBalzo.com

"[Maggy Thorsen Mystery series] has taken on the maturity of a seasoned, well-grounded series
that both feels comfortable to sink into, but had been updated enough to bring readers new enthusiasm and enjoyment.
Highly recommended."
Bookreaders Heaven

The Maggy Thorsen Mysteries Also by Sandra Balzo

[SandraBalzo]

Bean There, Done That
By Sandra Balzo
Earned a Kirkus Starred Review
". . . crisp dialogue, complex characters and a puzzle that can't be beat."

Bean There, Done That is the third Maggy Thorsen Mystery. The first four books in the now seven-book series are available for $2.99 each on Kindle. From the Grounds Up and Cup of Jo (books five and six) will be on Kindle next month.

The Maggy Thorsen Mysteries Also by Sandra Balzo



An excerpt from BEAN THERE, DONE THAT:

Here’s a tip: if your ex-husband’s mistress-cum-missus asks for your help in proving that he cheated on her while he was married to you, just say no.

And, whatever you do, don’t invite her in for a cup of coffee.

‘Wine?’ I asked, stepping aside to let Rachel Slattery, now Rachel Slattery Thorsen, pass by.

Rachel frowned, wrinkling her pert little nose as she moved into my living room. ‘It’s a bit early for me, Maggy,’ she said. ‘But maybe . . . a mimosa?’

Of course. Let me just pop some champagne to celebrate her arrival. ‘It was my morning to open the store.’ I said. ‘To me, noon is the new five o’clock.’

I don’t know why I was bothering to explain. I’d started my coffeehouse, Uncommon Grounds, only because Ted, my former husband and Rachel’s current one, dumped me for her. Ted being a dentist and Rachel his hygienist, they’d apparently fallen in love over the spit sink.

Anyway, my point is that when you got right down to it, it was Rachel’s fault I had been upright and brewing coffee at five thirty a.m. ‘It’s wine or nothing.’

‘A white Zin?’

The next best thing to nothing. ‘Coming up!’

I left her with Frank, the sheepdog I inherited when my son Eric went off to college in Minnesota, and headed for the kitchen. Behind me, I heard Frank rouse himself and then, with a groan, settle back down on the hearth of the unlighted fireplace. At least one male in the family wasn’t enamored of Rachel.

I poured the leavings of a bottle of red Zinfandel into a glass for her and topped it off with flat 7-UP. Then I opened a fresh bottle of old vine Zin for myself.

When I went back in, Rachel was seated on the couch. She was wearing a short skirt and boots and, I had to admit, looked adorable. Lucky Ted: he’d managed to snag a younger woman just as the dress code he’d loved so much the first time around – minis, boots, platform shoes – cycled back into fashion.

‘Thank you,’ Rachel said, accepting the glass from me and sipping delicately. ‘Ooooo, this is delicious.’

‘I thought you’d like it.’ I took a bracing belt of my real Zin. Then I sank into the chair across from her. ‘Now, tell me again why you’re here?’

‘It’s really quite simple.’ She set down her glass. ‘Ted told me that you save all your old calendars. Stack them up for years. I was hoping I could take a little peek.’

The subject of my calendars probably came up as Ted was telling her what an unrepentant pack-rat I was. I thought I was merely being prudent. Want to know when in 1996 we’d gone to the Bahamas? I could tell you. Not to mention, what year we put a new roof on the house, the day the refrigerator repairman came in 2004, or the exact date and time of our son Eric’s high school graduation party. Which, coincidentally, was the day before Ted dropped the R-bomb.

‘And you want these because . . .’

‘I already told you.’ Rachel rolled her eyes. ‘You wrote down where Ted went for conferences and training.’

‘That’s true,’ I admitted. ‘Along with where he was staying and, before cellulars, a contact phone number.’

‘I’m interested in more recent trips, say, the two years before he . . . uh, left you.’

For her.

‘You mean the two years he was bopping you?’ I asked pleasantly.

‘Well, yes.’ She tugged down her skirt and gave me a nervous smile.

‘Don’t you know where he was?’ I asked. ‘Weren’t you with him on all those trips?’

Rachel leaned forward. ‘That’s what I thought,’ she said in a low voice. ‘But apparently not.’

‘Hard as it might be for you to imagine, I suppose Ted could have gone to a legitimate dental conference or two without you.’ Though looking at Little Miss Tooth De-Lay, with her short skirt and long legs, it was pretty hard for even me to imagine it.

‘You don’t keep trophies from dental conferences,’ Rachel said, rifling through her patent leather YSL tote. YSL, as in Yves Saint Laurent. Rachel should know something about trophies. She was one.

‘Excuse me?’ I asked politely.

She came out with a stack of plastic rectangles. ‘Trophies,’ Rachel repeated, handing them to me.

‘These are key cards.’ I shuffled through them quickly. ‘From hotels.’

‘Exactly.’

I shrugged. ‘So you want to turn him in for not returning his room key to the desk?’

‘You just don’t get it, do you?’ Rachel leapt up dramatically. ‘He’s been cheating on me. Now and then.’

She pointed to the keys and burst into tears.

Bean There, Done That is the third Maggy Thorsen Mystery. The first four books in the series are now available for $2.99 each on Kindle. Check them out!

The Maggy Thorsen Mysteries Also by Sandra Balzo

[SandraBalzo]

 News!

Narrator Karen Savage has just been retained to be the voice of Maggy Thorsen, "one of the best gourmet amateur sleuths on the market," in the first of the Maggy Thorsen Mysteries when Uncommon Grounds comes to audio-book in May!

In the meantime, Uncommon Grounds and the next three books in the series--including Bean There, Done That--are available for $2.99 on Kindle. with the rest to follow very soon. AND, Heaven's Fire, a romantic suspense novel with fireworks--the deadly kind, is now available for free borrowing to Amazon Prime members!

"An engaging sleuth, Maggy puts her own humorous, breezy spin on everything, from coffee lore to the colorful locals . . ."
Publishers Weekly

"[Maggy Thorsen Mystery series] has taken on the maturity of a seasoned, well-grounded series
that both feels comfortable to sink into, but had been updated enough to bring readers new enthusiasm and enjoyment.
Highly recommended."
Bookreaders Heaven

The Maggy Thorsen Mysteries    Also by Sandra Balzo

[SandraBalzo]

Bean There, Done That
By Sandra Balzo
Earned a Kirkus Starred Review
". . . crisp dialogue, complex characters and a puzzle that can't be beat."

Bean There, Done That is the third Maggy Thorsen Mystery. The first four books in the now seven-book series are available for $2.99 each on Kindle. From the Grounds Up and Cup of Jo (books five and six) will be on Kindle next month.

The Maggy Thorsen Mysteries Also by Sandra Balzo



An excerpt from BEAN THERE, DONE THAT:

Here’s a tip: if your ex-husband’s mistress-cum-missus asks for your help in proving that he cheated on her while he was married to you, just say no.

And, whatever you do, don’t invite her in for a cup of coffee.

‘Wine?’ I asked, stepping aside to let Rachel Slattery, now Rachel Slattery Thorsen, pass by.

Rachel frowned, wrinkling her pert little nose as she moved into my living room. ‘It’s a bit early for me, Maggy,’ she said. ‘But maybe . . . a mimosa?’

Of course. Let me just pop some champagne to celebrate her arrival. ‘It was my morning to open the store.’ I said. ‘To me, noon is the new five o’clock.’

I don’t know why I was bothering to explain. I’d started my coffeehouse, Uncommon Grounds, only because Ted, my former husband and Rachel’s current one, dumped me for her. Ted being a dentist and Rachel his hygienist, they’d apparently fallen in love over the spit sink.

Anyway, my point is that when you got right down to it, it was Rachel’s fault I had been upright and brewing coffee at five thirty a.m. ‘It’s wine or nothing.’

‘A white Zin?’

The next best thing to nothing. ‘Coming up!’

I left her with Frank, the sheepdog I inherited when my son Eric went off to college in Minnesota, and headed for the kitchen. Behind me, I heard Frank rouse himself and then, with a groan, settle back down on the hearth of the unlighted fireplace. At least one male in the family wasn’t enamored of Rachel.

I poured the leavings of a bottle of red Zinfandel into a glass for her and topped it off with flat 7-UP. Then I opened a fresh bottle of old vine Zin for myself.

When I went back in, Rachel was seated on the couch. She was wearing a short skirt and boots and, I had to admit, looked adorable. Lucky Ted: he’d managed to snag a younger woman just as the dress code he’d loved so much the first time around – minis, boots, platform shoes – cycled back into fashion.

‘Thank you,’ Rachel said, accepting the glass from me and sipping delicately. ‘Ooooo, this is delicious.’

‘I thought you’d like it.’ I took a bracing belt of my real Zin. Then I sank into the chair across from her. ‘Now, tell me again why you’re here?’

‘It’s really quite simple.’ She set down her glass. ‘Ted told me that you save all your old calendars. Stack them up for years. I was hoping I could take a little peek.’

The subject of my calendars probably came up as Ted was telling her what an unrepentant pack-rat I was. I thought I was merely being prudent. Want to know when in 1996 we’d gone to the Bahamas? I could tell you. Not to mention, what year we put a new roof on the house, the day the refrigerator repairman came in 2004, or the exact date and time of our son Eric’s high school graduation party. Which, coincidentally, was the day before Ted dropped the R-bomb.

‘And you want these because . . .’

‘I already told you.’ Rachel rolled her eyes. ‘You wrote down where Ted went for conferences and training.’

‘That’s true,’ I admitted. ‘Along with where he was staying and, before cellulars, a contact phone number.’

‘I’m interested in more recent trips, say, the two years before he . . . uh, left you.’

For her.

‘You mean the two years he was bopping you?’ I asked pleasantly.

‘Well, yes.’ She tugged down her skirt and gave me a nervous smile.

‘Don’t you know where he was?’ I asked. ‘Weren’t you with him on all those trips?’

Rachel leaned forward. ‘That’s what I thought,’ she said in a low voice. ‘But apparently not.’

‘Hard as it might be for you to imagine, I suppose Ted could have gone to a legitimate dental conference or two without you.’ Though looking at Little Miss Tooth De-Lay, with her short skirt and long legs, it was pretty hard for even me to imagine it.

‘You don’t keep trophies from dental conferences,’ Rachel said, rifling through her patent leather YSL tote. YSL, as in Yves Saint Laurent. Rachel should know something about trophies. She was one.

‘Excuse me?’ I asked politely.

She came out with a stack of plastic rectangles. ‘Trophies,’ Rachel repeated, handing them to me.

‘These are key cards.’ I shuffled through them quickly. ‘From hotels.’

‘Exactly.’

I shrugged. ‘So you want to turn him in for not returning his room key to the desk?’

‘You just don’t get it, do you?’ Rachel leapt up dramatically. ‘He’s been cheating on me. Now and then.’

She pointed to the keys and burst into tears.

Bean There, Done That is the third Maggy Thorsen Mystery. The first four books in the series are now available for $2.99 each on Kindle. Check them out!

The Maggy Thorsen Mysteries Also by Sandra Balzo

[SandraBalzo]

  News!

Narrator Karen Savage has just been retained to be the voice of Maggy Thorsen, "one of the best gourmet amateur sleuths on the market," in the first of the Maggy Thorsen Mysteries when Uncommon Grounds comes to audio-book in May!

In the meantime, Uncommon Grounds and the next three books in the series--including Bean There, Done That--are available for $2.99 on Kindle. with the rest to follow very soon. AND, Heaven's Fire, a romantic suspense novel with fireworks--the deadly kind, is now available for free borrowing to Amazon Prime members!

"An engaging sleuth, Maggy puts her own humorous, breezy spin on everything, from coffee lore to the colorful locals . . ."
Publishers Weekly

"[Maggy Thorsen Mystery series] has taken on the maturity of a seasoned, well-grounded series
that both feels comfortable to sink into, but had been updated enough to bring readers new enthusiasm and enjoyment.
Highly recommended."
Bookreaders Heaven

The Maggy Thorsen Mysteries     Also by Sandra Balzo

[SandraBalzo]

Bean There, Done That
By Sandra Balzo
Earned a Kirkus Starred Review
". . . crisp dialogue, complex characters and a puzzle that can't be beat."

Bean There, Done That is the third Maggy Thorsen Mystery. The first four books in the now seven-book series are available for $2.99 each on Kindle, with the fifth, From the Grounds Up, and coming later this week!

The Maggy Thorsen Mysteries Also by Sandra Balzo



An excerpt from BEAN THERE, DONE THAT:

Here’s a tip: if your ex-husband’s mistress-cum-missus asks for your help in proving that he cheated on her while he was married to you, just say no.

And, whatever you do, don’t invite her in for a cup of coffee.

‘Wine?’ I asked, stepping aside to let Rachel Slattery, now Rachel Slattery Thorsen, pass by.

Rachel frowned, wrinkling her pert little nose as she moved into my living room. ‘It’s a bit early for me, Maggy,’ she said. ‘But maybe . . . a mimosa?’

Of course. Let me just pop some champagne to celebrate her arrival. ‘It was my morning to open the store.’ I said. ‘To me, noon is the new five o’clock.’

I don’t know why I was bothering to explain. I’d started my coffeehouse, Uncommon Grounds, only because Ted, my former husband and Rachel’s current one, dumped me for her. Ted being a dentist and Rachel his hygienist, they’d apparently fallen in love over the spit sink.

Anyway, my point is that when you got right down to it, it was Rachel’s fault I had been upright and brewing coffee at five thirty a.m. ‘It’s wine or nothing.’

‘A white Zin?’

The next best thing to nothing. ‘Coming up!’

I left her with Frank, the sheepdog I inherited when my son Eric went off to college in Minnesota, and headed for the kitchen. Behind me, I heard Frank rouse himself and then, with a groan, settle back down on the hearth of the unlighted fireplace. At least one male in the family wasn’t enamored of Rachel.

I poured the leavings of a bottle of red Zinfandel into a glass for her and topped it off with flat 7-UP. Then I opened a fresh bottle of old vine Zin for myself.

When I went back in, Rachel was seated on the couch. She was wearing a short skirt and boots and, I had to admit, looked adorable. Lucky Ted: he’d managed to snag a younger woman just as the dress code he’d loved so much the first time around – minis, boots, platform shoes – cycled back into fashion.

‘Thank you,’ Rachel said, accepting the glass from me and sipping delicately. ‘Ooooo, this is delicious.’

‘I thought you’d like it.’ I took a bracing belt of my real Zin. Then I sank into the chair across from her. ‘Now, tell me again why you’re here?’

‘It’s really quite simple.’ She set down her glass. ‘Ted told me that you save all your old calendars. Stack them up for years. I was hoping I could take a little peek.’

The subject of my calendars probably came up as Ted was telling her what an unrepentant pack-rat I was. I thought I was merely being prudent. Want to know when in 1996 we’d gone to the Bahamas? I could tell you. Not to mention, what year we put a new roof on the house, the day the refrigerator repairman came in 2004, or the exact date and time of our son Eric’s high school graduation party. Which, coincidentally, was the day before Ted dropped the R-bomb.

‘And you want these because . . .’

‘I already told you.’ Rachel rolled her eyes. ‘You wrote down where Ted went for conferences and training.’

‘That’s true,’ I admitted. ‘Along with where he was staying and, before cellulars, a contact phone number.’

‘I’m interested in more recent trips, say, the two years before he . . . uh, left you.’

For her.

‘You mean the two years he was bopping you?’ I asked pleasantly.

‘Well, yes.’ She tugged down her skirt and gave me a nervous smile.

‘Don’t you know where he was?’ I asked. ‘Weren’t you with him on all those trips?’

Rachel leaned forward. ‘That’s what I thought,’ she said in a low voice. ‘But apparently not.’

‘Hard as it might be for you to imagine, I suppose Ted could have gone to a legitimate dental conference or two without you.’ Though looking at Little Miss Tooth De-Lay, with her short skirt and long legs, it was pretty hard for even me to imagine it.

‘You don’t keep trophies from dental conferences,’ Rachel said, rifling through her patent leather YSL tote. YSL, as in Yves Saint Laurent. Rachel should know something about trophies. She was one.

‘Excuse me?’ I asked politely.

She came out with a stack of plastic rectangles. ‘Trophies,’ Rachel repeated, handing them to me.

‘These are key cards.’ I shuffled through them quickly. ‘From hotels.’

‘Exactly.’

I shrugged. ‘So you want to turn him in for not returning his room key to the desk?’

‘You just don’t get it, do you?’ Rachel leapt up dramatically. ‘He’s been cheating on me. Now and then.’

She pointed to the keys and burst into tears.

Bean There, Done That is the third Maggy Thorsen Mystery. The first four books in the series are now available for $2.99 each on Kindle. Check them out!

The Maggy Thorsen Mysteries Also by Sandra Balzo

[SandraBalzo]

Bean There, Done That
By Sandra Balzo
Earned a Kirkus Starred Review
". . . crisp dialogue, complex characters and a puzzle that can't be beat."

Bean There, Done That is the third Maggy Thorsen Mystery, following Grounds for Murder, which is KindleBoards' Book of the Day today. The first five books in the now seven-book series are available for $2.99 each on Kindle.


The Maggy Thorsen Mysteries Also by Sandra Balzo

[SandraBalzo]

     

[SandraBalzo]

Bean There, Done That
By Sandra Balzo
Earned a Kirkus Starred Review
". . . crisp dialogue, complex characters and a puzzle that can't be beat."

Bean There, Done That is the third Maggy Thorsen Mystery. The first six books in the now seven-book series are available for $2.99 each on Kindle.

Maggy Thorsen Mysteries  


An excerpt from BEAN THERE, DONE THAT:

Here’s a tip: if your ex-husband’s mistress-cum-missus asks for your help in proving that he cheated on her while he was married to you, just say no.

And, whatever you do, don’t invite her in for a cup of coffee.

‘Wine?’ I asked, stepping aside to let Rachel Slattery, now Rachel Slattery Thorsen, pass by.

Rachel frowned, wrinkling her pert little nose as she moved into my living room. ‘It’s a bit early for me, Maggy,’ she said. ‘But maybe . . . a mimosa?’

Of course. Let me just pop some champagne to celebrate her arrival. ‘It was my morning to open the store.’ I said. ‘To me, noon is the new five o’clock.’

I don’t know why I was bothering to explain. I’d started my coffeehouse, Uncommon Grounds, only because Ted, my former husband and Rachel’s current one, dumped me for her. Ted being a dentist and Rachel his hygienist, they’d apparently fallen in love over the spit sink.

Anyway, my point is that when you got right down to it, it was Rachel’s fault I had been upright and brewing coffee at five thirty a.m. ‘It’s wine or nothing.’

‘A white Zin?’

The next best thing to nothing. ‘Coming up!’

I left her with Frank, the sheepdog I inherited when my son Eric went off to college in Minnesota, and headed for the kitchen. Behind me, I heard Frank rouse himself and then, with a groan, settle back down on the hearth of the unlighted fireplace. At least one male in the family wasn’t enamored of Rachel.

I poured the leavings of a bottle of red Zinfandel into a glass for her and topped it off with flat 7-UP. Then I opened a fresh bottle of old vine Zin for myself.

When I went back in, Rachel was seated on the couch. She was wearing a short skirt and boots and, I had to admit, looked adorable. Lucky Ted: he’d managed to snag a younger woman just as the dress code he’d loved so much the first time around – minis, boots, platform shoes – cycled back into fashion.

‘Thank you,’ Rachel said, accepting the glass from me and sipping delicately. ‘Ooooo, this is delicious.’

‘I thought you’d like it.’ I took a bracing belt of my real Zin. Then I sank into the chair across from her. ‘Now, tell me again why you’re here?’

‘It’s really quite simple.’ She set down her glass. ‘Ted told me that you save all your old calendars. Stack them up for years. I was hoping I could take a little peek.’

The subject of my calendars probably came up as Ted was telling her what an unrepentant pack-rat I was. I thought I was merely being prudent. Want to know when in 1996 we’d gone to the Bahamas? I could tell you. Not to mention, what year we put a new roof on the house, the day the refrigerator repairman came in 2004, or the exact date and time of our son Eric’s high school graduation party. Which, coincidentally, was the day before Ted dropped the R-bomb.

‘And you want these because . . .’

‘I already told you.’ Rachel rolled her eyes. ‘You wrote down where Ted went for conferences and training.’

‘That’s true,’ I admitted. ‘Along with where he was staying and, before cellulars, a contact phone number.’

‘I’m interested in more recent trips, say, the two years before he . . . uh, left you.’

For her.

‘You mean the two years he was bopping you?’ I asked pleasantly.

‘Well, yes.’ She tugged down her skirt and gave me a nervous smile.

‘Don’t you know where he was?’ I asked. ‘Weren’t you with him on all those trips?’

Rachel leaned forward. ‘That’s what I thought,’ she said in a low voice. ‘But apparently not.’

‘Hard as it might be for you to imagine, I suppose Ted could have gone to a legitimate dental conference or two without you.’ Though looking at Little Miss Tooth De-Lay, with her short skirt and long legs, it was pretty hard for even me to imagine it.

‘You don’t keep trophies from dental conferences,’ Rachel said, rifling through her patent leather YSL tote. YSL, as in Yves Saint Laurent. Rachel should know something about trophies. She was one.

‘Excuse me?’ I asked politely.

She came out with a stack of plastic rectangles. ‘Trophies,’ Rachel repeated, handing them to me.

‘These are key cards.’ I shuffled through them quickly. ‘From hotels.’

‘Exactly.’

I shrugged. ‘So you want to turn him in for not returning his room key to the desk?’

‘You just don’t get it, do you?’ Rachel leapt up dramatically. ‘He’s been cheating on me. Now and then.’

She pointed to the keys and burst into tears.

Maggy Thorsen Mysteries   Also...

[SandraBalzo]

My Kindle original, Heaven's Fire, is free on Amazon today! (Offer ends at midnight. Pacific time. Your mileage may vary :-) Heaven's Fire is currently #7 on the free Kindle Romantic Suspense list and in the Top 100 of Genre Fiction.

“Equal parts thriller, romance and family saga . . .
a compelling and deeply human read.”
Joan Johnston, New York Times bestselling author of Texas Bride

"Heaven's Fire" may be what Pasquale Firenze, patriarch of the family-owned Firenze Fireworks, calls his painting of the night sky with light, color and sound, but television producer Wendy "Jake" Jacobus has more practical considerations than her featured showman's artistry. Or so she believes, until Pasquale is killed--live on-camera--by an explosion, and Jake is hurled into a tangled web triggered by her job, her legacy as a cancer survivor, and her growing attraction to Simon Aamot, the federal agent assigned to the investigation.

Aamot has problems as well, but when the two are forced together by the tragedy, the man unable to let go of his past and the woman afraid to trust her future must race to prevent another catastrophic explosion--this one at the county's Fourth of July celebration.

“Rooted in the dangerously exotic world of a multi-generational fireworks company. . . spell-binding.”
Jeremiah Healy, award-winning author of The Only Good Lawyer and Spiral

“A fast-paced mystery that explodes off the page.”
Ali Brandon, national bestselling author of Double Booked for Death

You, too, can get your own slice of Heaven.
Just be sure to do it today!

The Maggy Thorsen Mysteries Also by Sandra Balzo

[SandraBalzo]

Bean There, Done That
By Sandra Balzo
Earned a Kirkus Starred Review
". . . crisp dialogue, complex characters and a puzzle that can't be beat."

Bean There, Done That is the third Maggy Thorsen Mystery. The first six books in the now seven-book series are available for $2.99 each on Kindle and Book One, Uncommon Grounds, just hit audio! (http://www.amazon.com/Uncommon-Grounds/dp/B007TZTFBO/ref=sr_1_1_title_2_aud?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1335707647&sr=1-1)

Maggy Thorsen Mysteries  


An excerpt from BEAN THERE, DONE THAT:

Here’s a tip: if your ex-husband’s mistress-cum-missus asks for your help in proving that he cheated on her while he was married to you, just say no.

And, whatever you do, don’t invite her in for a cup of coffee.

‘Wine?’ I asked, stepping aside to let Rachel Slattery, now Rachel Slattery Thorsen, pass by.

Rachel frowned, wrinkling her pert little nose as she moved into my living room. ‘It’s a bit early for me, Maggy,’ she said. ‘But maybe . . . a mimosa?’

Of course. Let me just pop some champagne to celebrate her arrival. ‘It was my morning to open the store.’ I said. ‘To me, noon is the new five o’clock.’

I don’t know why I was bothering to explain. I’d started my coffeehouse, Uncommon Grounds, only because Ted, my former husband and Rachel’s current one, dumped me for her. Ted being a dentist and Rachel his hygienist, they’d apparently fallen in love over the spit sink.

Anyway, my point is that when you got right down to it, it was Rachel’s fault I had been upright and brewing coffee at five thirty a.m. ‘It’s wine or nothing.’

‘A white Zin?’

The next best thing to nothing. ‘Coming up!’

I left her with Frank, the sheepdog I inherited when my son Eric went off to college in Minnesota, and headed for the kitchen. Behind me, I heard Frank rouse himself and then, with a groan, settle back down on the hearth of the unlighted fireplace. At least one male in the family wasn’t enamored of Rachel.

I poured the leavings of a bottle of red Zinfandel into a glass for her and topped it off with flat 7-UP. Then I opened a fresh bottle of old vine Zin for myself.

When I went back in, Rachel was seated on the couch. She was wearing a short skirt and boots and, I had to admit, looked adorable. Lucky Ted: he’d managed to snag a younger woman just as the dress code he’d loved so much the first time around – minis, boots, platform shoes – cycled back into fashion.

‘Thank you,’ Rachel said, accepting the glass from me and sipping delicately. ‘Ooooo, this is delicious.’

‘I thought you’d like it.’ I took a bracing belt of my real Zin. Then I sank into the chair across from her. ‘Now, tell me again why you’re here?’

‘It’s really quite simple.’ She set down her glass. ‘Ted told me that you save all your old calendars. Stack them up for years. I was hoping I could take a little peek.’

The subject of my calendars probably came up as Ted was telling her what an unrepentant pack-rat I was. I thought I was merely being prudent. Want to know when in 1996 we’d gone to the Bahamas? I could tell you. Not to mention, what year we put a new roof on the house, the day the refrigerator repairman came in 2004, or the exact date and time of our son Eric’s high school graduation party. Which, coincidentally, was the day before Ted dropped the R-bomb.

‘And you want these because . . .’

‘I already told you.’ Rachel rolled her eyes. ‘You wrote down where Ted went for conferences and training.’

‘That’s true,’ I admitted. ‘Along with where he was staying and, before cellulars, a contact phone number.’

‘I’m interested in more recent trips, say, the two years before he . . . uh, left you.’

For her.

‘You mean the two years he was bopping you?’ I asked pleasantly.

‘Well, yes.’ She tugged down her skirt and gave me a nervous smile.

‘Don’t you know where he was?’ I asked. ‘Weren’t you with him on all those trips?’

Rachel leaned forward. ‘That’s what I thought,’ she said in a low voice. ‘But apparently not.’

‘Hard as it might be for you to imagine, I suppose Ted could have gone to a legitimate dental conference or two without you.’ Though looking at Little Miss Tooth De-Lay, with her short skirt and long legs, it was pretty hard for even me to imagine it.

‘You don’t keep trophies from dental conferences,’ Rachel said, rifling through her patent leather YSL tote. YSL, as in Yves Saint Laurent. Rachel should know something about trophies. She was one.

‘Excuse me?’ I asked politely.

She came out with a stack of plastic rectangles. ‘Trophies,’ Rachel repeated, handing them to me.

‘These are key cards.’ I shuffled through them quickly. ‘From hotels.’

‘Exactly.’

I shrugged. ‘So you want to turn him in for not returning his room key to the desk?’

‘You just don’t get it, do you?’ Rachel leapt up dramatically. ‘He’s been cheating on me. Now and then.’

She pointed to the keys and burst into tears.

Maggy Thorsen Mysteries   Also...

[SandraBalzo]

Bean There, Done That
By Sandra Balzo
Earned a Kirkus Starred Review
". . . crisp dialogue, complex characters and a puzzle that can't be beat."

Bean There, Done That is the third Maggy Thorsen Mystery. The first six books in the now seven-book series are available for $3.99 each on Kindle and Book One, Uncommon Grounds, just hit audio with the next three coming by the end of the year! ( www.audible.com/SandraBalzo )
 
Maggy Thorsen Mysteries  


An excerpt from BEAN THERE, DONE THAT:

Here’s a tip: if your ex-husband’s mistress-cum-missus asks for your help in proving that he cheated on her while he was married to you, just say no.

And, whatever you do, don’t invite her in for a cup of coffee.

‘Wine?’ I asked, stepping aside to let Rachel Slattery, now Rachel Slattery Thorsen, pass by.

Rachel frowned, wrinkling her pert little nose as she moved into my living room. ‘It’s a bit early for me, Maggy,’ she said. ‘But maybe . . . a mimosa?’

Of course. Let me just pop some champagne to celebrate her arrival. ‘It was my morning to open the store.’ I said. ‘To me, noon is the new five o’clock.’

I don’t know why I was bothering to explain. I’d started my coffeehouse, Uncommon Grounds, only because Ted, my former husband and Rachel’s current one, dumped me for her. Ted being a dentist and Rachel his hygienist, they’d apparently fallen in love over the spit sink.

Anyway, my point is that when you got right down to it, it was Rachel’s fault I had been upright and brewing coffee at five thirty a.m. ‘It’s wine or nothing.’

‘A white Zin?’

The next best thing to nothing. ‘Coming up!’

I left her with Frank, the sheepdog I inherited when my son Eric went off to college in Minnesota, and headed for the kitchen. Behind me, I heard Frank rouse himself and then, with a groan, settle back down on the hearth of the unlighted fireplace. At least one male in the family wasn’t enamored of Rachel.

I poured the leavings of a bottle of red Zinfandel into a glass for her and topped it off with flat 7-UP. Then I opened a fresh bottle of old vine Zin for myself.

When I went back in, Rachel was seated on the couch. She was wearing a short skirt and boots and, I had to admit, looked adorable. Lucky Ted: he’d managed to snag a younger woman just as the dress code he’d loved so much the first time around – minis, boots, platform shoes – cycled back into fashion.

‘Thank you,’ Rachel said, accepting the glass from me and sipping delicately. ‘Ooooo, this is delicious.’

‘I thought you’d like it.’ I took a bracing belt of my real Zin. Then I sank into the chair across from her. ‘Now, tell me again why you’re here?’

‘It’s really quite simple.’ She set down her glass. ‘Ted told me that you save all your old calendars. Stack them up for years. I was hoping I could take a little peek.’

The subject of my calendars probably came up as Ted was telling her what an unrepentant pack-rat I was. I thought I was merely being prudent. Want to know when in 1996 we’d gone to the Bahamas? I could tell you. Not to mention, what year we put a new roof on the house, the day the refrigerator repairman came in 2004, or the exact date and time of our son Eric’s high school graduation party. Which, coincidentally, was the day before Ted dropped the R-bomb.

‘And you want these because . . .’

‘I already told you.’ Rachel rolled her eyes. ‘You wrote down where Ted went for conferences and training.’

‘That’s true,’ I admitted. ‘Along with where he was staying and, before cellulars, a contact phone number.’

‘I’m interested in more recent trips, say, the two years before he . . . uh, left you.’

For her.

‘You mean the two years he was bopping you?’ I asked pleasantly.

‘Well, yes.’ She tugged down her skirt and gave me a nervous smile.

‘Don’t you know where he was?’ I asked. ‘Weren’t you with him on all those trips?’

Rachel leaned forward. ‘That’s what I thought,’ she said in a low voice. ‘But apparently not.’

‘Hard as it might be for you to imagine, I suppose Ted could have gone to a legitimate dental conference or two without you.’ Though looking at Little Miss Tooth De-Lay, with her short skirt and long legs, it was pretty hard for even me to imagine it.

‘You don’t keep trophies from dental conferences,’ Rachel said, rifling through her patent leather YSL tote. YSL, as in Yves Saint Laurent. Rachel should know something about trophies. She was one.

‘Excuse me?’ I asked politely.

She came out with a stack of plastic rectangles. ‘Trophies,’ Rachel repeated, handing them to me.

‘These are key cards.’ I shuffled through them quickly. ‘From hotels.’

‘Exactly.’

I shrugged. ‘So you want to turn him in for not returning his room key to the desk?’

‘You just don’t get it, do you?’ Rachel leapt up dramatically. ‘He’s been cheating on me. Now and then.’

She pointed to the keys and burst into tears.

Maggy Thorsen Mysteries   Also...