The small town of Cranberry Cove has a deadly harvest in the first mystery in this delightful series from the author of the Gourmet De-Lite Mysteries. When Monica Albertson comes to Cranberry Cove—a charming town on the eastern shore of Lake Michigan—to help her half-brother Jeff on his cranberry farm, the last thing she expects to harvest is a dead body. It seems that Sam Culbert, who ran the farm while Jeff was deployed overseas, had some juicy secrets that soon prove fatal, and Jeff is ripe for the picking as a prime suspect. Forming an uneasy alliance with her high-maintenance stepmother, Monica has her hands full trying to save the farm while searching for a killer. Culbert made plenty of enemies in the quaint small town...but which one was desperate enough to kill? INCLUDES DELICIOUS RECIPES! Praise for the Cranberry Cove Mystery series “Author Peg Cochran has a truly entertaining writing style that is filled with humor, mystery, fun, and intrigue. You cannot ask for a lot more in a super cozy!” —Open Book Society “A fun whodunnit with quirky characters and a satisfying mystery. This newseries is as sweet and sharp as the heroine’s cranberry salsa.”—Sofie Kelly,  New York Times bestselling author of the Magical Cats mysteries “Cozy fans and foodies rejoice—there’s a place just for you and it’s calledCranberry Cove.”—Ellery Adams,  New York Times  bestselling author of theBooks by the Bay mysteries, the Charmed Pie Shoppe mysteries, and the BookRetreat mysteries “I can’t wait for Monica’s next tasty adventure—and I’m not just saying thatbecause I covet her cranberry relish recipe.”—Victoria Abbott, nationa lbestselling author of the Book Collector mysteries Peg Cochran is the  USA Today  bestselling author of the Lucille Mysteries, the Gourmet De-Lite Mysteries, the Cranberry Cove Mysteries, and also, writing as Meg London, the Sweet Nothings Vintage Lingerie series. She has two daughters, a stepdaughter and stepson, a beautiful granddaughter, and a Westhighland white terrier named Reggie. Acknowledgments Chapter 1 Monica Albertson coaxed her ancient Ford Focus up the last hill, past the boarded-up vegetable stand, the abandoned barn and the Shell station. As usual, she paused at the crest. Cranberry Cove was spread out before her—a view that still thrilled her, even though it had been five weeks since she’d fled Chicago for this idyllic retreat on the eastern shore of Lake Michigan. From her vantage point, Monica could see the sparkling blue waters of the lake and the horseshoe-shaped harbor, where several white sails bobbed in the wind. The Cranberry Cove Yacht Club, where wealthy summer visitors sat on the deck sipping cold drinks, was a speck on the horizon, and the pastel-colored shops that lined Beach Hollow Road were bathed in a soft light by the early morning sun. Monica took her foot off the brake and rolled down the hill toward town, relishing the cool breeze from her open window and the warmth of the sun on her arms. She drove down Beach Hollow Road, where all the shop fronts were painted in sherbet hues of pink, lemon yellow and melon. The streets were quiet and the sidewalks nearly empty—it was late September, so the summer crowd had gone back home to their everyday lives and the carloads of tourists on autumn foliage color tours hadn’t arrived yet. Cranberry Cove wasn’t Chicago, but Monica found it very charming with its old-fashioned gaslights, planters overflowing with the remains of the summer’s flowers and the white gingerbread gazebo that graced the middle of the small vest-pocket park. Monica pulled the Focus into a space in front of Gumdrops, a candy shop that was housed in a narrow building painted the palest pink. Fancy lace curtains hung in the window, and a ceramic Dutch couple kissing sat out on the doorstep, which had been swept clean of any sand borne by the winds of the most recent storm. Miss Gerda VanVelsen came rushing forward almost before the bell over the door finished sounding Monica’s arrival. Or was she Miss Hennie VanVelsen? Monica could never be sure—the VanVelsens were identical twins, spinsters sharing the home that had belonged to their parents. Their grandparents had been part of the wave of immigration from Holland to western Michigan in the 1800s, and the sisters had retained many of the traits of their ancestors—thriftiness, cleanliness and efficiency. Monica stole a glance at the name tag pinned to the woman’s top—this was Hennie, dressed in a pastel pink sweater and skirt that almost matched the color of the front of the candy shop. Her gray hair was set in elaborate curls and waves, and her pink lipstick matched her sweater. “Hello, dear,” Hennie said warmly. “How are you settling in? It’s been a couple of weeks, hasn’t it? Have you got your little cottage fixed up yet?” Monica nodded. “Yes, I’m almost done. It’s turned out very well.” Actually Monica adored her cottage, but from the time she was little, her parents had discouraged hyperbole