First in the Farmer’s Daughter mystery series set on a picturesque farm in Michigan, where Shelby McDonald runs a popular lifestyle and cooking blog, from the national bestselling author of the Cranberry Cove Mysteries.   On her blog, The Farmer’s Daughter , Shelby McDonald is growing her audience as she posts recipes, gardening tips, and her experiences raising two kids and running Love Blossom Farm in the small western Michigan town of Lovett.   Working the farm is demanding but peaceful—until that peace is shattered when the minister’s wife is murdered on Shelby’s property during a fund-raiser for a local church. But the manure really hits the fan when Shelby’s good friend veterinarian Kelly Thacker emerges as the prime suspect. Shelby decides to dig in and find the murderer by herself. As more suspects crop up, she’ll have to move fast—before someone else buys the farm. . . . INCLUDES DELICIOUS RECIPES “A basketful of gossip, delight, and intrigue.”— New York Times Bestselling Author B.B. Haywood Praise for Peg Cochran’s Cranberry Cove Mysteries   “A fun whodunnit with quirky characters and a satisfying mystery. This new series 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 called Cranberry Cove.”—Ellery Adams, New York Times bestselling author of the Books by the Bay Mysteries, the Charmed Pie Shoppe Mysteries, and the Book Retreat Mysteries Peg Cochran is the national bestselling author of the Cranberry Cove Mysteries and the Gourmet De-Lite Mysteries. 1 Shelby McDonald stood in the midst of row upon tidy row of lettuces, a woven willow garden basket over her arm. Dew, shimmering like diamonds on the delicate leaves of the plants, was evaporating rapidly in the rays of the sun. The rich, dark earth was cool against Shelby's bare knees as she knelt between the two rows and began picking. She plucked some merlot lettuce from the ground, shook off the excess dirt, and placed it in her basket. It would go into the salad she was making for the St. Andrews Church potluck later that day. She moved to the next row and chose some heads of butter lettuce. Its smooth, buttery taste would be the perfect complement to the full-bodied flavor of the merlot. Plus, the pale green of the butter lettuce and deep burgundy of the merlot would look beautiful together in the bowl. Shelby had taken over Love Blossom Farm ten years ago, when her parents retired to spend their time traveling the country in their secondhand RV. She'd headed to Chicago after college, but city life hadn't suited her, and she'd been glad to return to Lovett, Michigan, and the place she loved more than anywhere else on earth. Shelby grew lettuces and herbs that she sold to the Lovett General Store and also cultivated a kitchen garden, which provided her and her children with vegetables all year long-fresh in the spring and summer and canned or pickled the rest of the year. The speck of red in the distance was an old barn, where Patches, an aging calico cat, who was still nimble despite her advancing years, kept mice and other small critters at bay. Next to it was a chicken coop. Shelby kept a flock of cantankerous Rhode Island Reds that squawked for their feed every morning but presented her with a stream of large brown eggs. Jack Sparrow, a bantam rooster inherited from an elderly farmer her parents knew, strutted among them, keeping order. Her basket full of lettuce, Shelby headed back to the farmhouse. It was old, with worn gray shingles and plumbing that was in a constant state of disrepair, but Shelby loved it. She pushed open the back door and went through the mudroom and into the kitchen. She put the basket on the counter and filled the kitchen sink with cold water. Although she grew everything organically, it was still necessary to make sure the lettuce was free of any dirt or sand. She separated the leaves and put them in the water to soak. Her computer was on a small table tucked into a corner of the kitchen. Shelby slipped into the chair she'd picked up at a going-out-of-business sale and powered on her laptop. She put her fingers on the keys and began to write. Dear Reader, Today is the church potluck fund-raiser. Poor St. Andrews is desperately in need of a new roof. Last Sunday it rained more inside the church than out. The St. Andrews Youth Group, under the direction of the Reverend Daniel Mather, who is beginning to look slightly harried, is erecting a large tent here on the grounds of Love Blossom Farm, and his wife, Prudence, is helping the Women's Auxiliary as they prepare to set up long folding tables for the food. As I write this, my house is filled with the fragrance of a cottage cheese pie baking in the oven and a huge pot of dill and wax bean soup simmering on the stove. I made the cottage cheese earlier this morning, and used the