Review: Raspberry Danish Murder

Raspberry Danish Murder

Thanksgiving has a way of thawing the frostiest hearts in Lake Eden. But that won’t be happening for newlywed Hannah Swensen Barton—not after her husband suddenly disappears . . .

Hannah has felt as bitter as November in Minnesota since Ross vanished without a trace and left their marriage in limbo. Still, she throws herself into a baking frenzy for the sake of pumpkin pie and Thanksgiving-themed treats while endless holiday orders pour into The Cookie Jar. Hannah even introduces a raspberry Danish pastry to the menu, and P.K., her husband’s assistant at KCOW-TV, will be one of the first to sample it. But instead of taking a bite, P.K., who is driving Ross’s car and using his desk at work, is murdered. Was someone plotting against P.K. all along or did Ross dodge a deadly dose of sweet revenge? Hannah will have to quickly sift through a cornucopia of clues and suspects to stop a killer from bringing another murder to the table . . .

I cannot even with these books any more. They have gotten progressively worse with each one. This book was literally 90% people eating or talking about what they’re going to eat, or what they just ate, or how to cook the recipe that appears on the next page. Throw in boringly long pages about random things like how to recycle and scammer phone messages. There was hardly anything about the murder of the week or the investigation into Ross’s disappearance, and what did happen, happened off-screen so to speak, so we just got a quick blink or you’ll miss it sum up. This wasn’t a murder mystery, nothing was solved, nothing was explained, it was just a long list of cookies and other assorted foods being eaten.

I’ve been firmly #TeamNorman since the beginning, but Mike wasn’t even in this book (except when he was eating) and I see no reason why either of them stick around for Hannah other than the food.

Also, seriously, another cliffhanger ending that comes out of nowhere in a rushed paragraph at the end, which I’m sure we’ll have to wait another year for. I doubt I’ll be back for it.

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