MYSTERY PICK OF THE MONTH -- Library Journal Best of Year Shortlist - Fresh Fiction Award Finalist *Starred Review: "A gripping and entertaining mystery" -- Library Journal "Penetrating insights" -- Kirkus Reviews "Sure to delight old fans and garner new ones" -- Publishers Weekly    From Cleo Coyle, the New York Times bestselling author of Dead Cold Brew , comes a delicious new entry in the "fun and gripping" (The Huffington Post) Coffeehouse Mysteries. A new smartphone dating game turns the Village Blend into a hookup hot spot, until one dark night, when a gunshot leaves a dead body behind and the landmark coffeehouse becomes the center of a whole new scene--a crime scene.    As Village Blend manager Clare Cosi attempts to finalize a date for her wedding, her ex-husband becomes addicted to making dates through smartphone swipes. Clare has mixed feelings about these quickie matchups happening in her coffeehouse. Even her octogenarian employer is selecting suitors by screenshot! But business is booming, and Clare works hard to keep the espresso shots flowing. Then one dark night, another kind of shot leaves a dead body for her to find.  The corpse is a successful entrepreneur who became notorious for his "hit it and quit it" behavior: prowling for women on dating apps, then devastating his conquests with morning-after insults. Though the NYPD quickly arrests one of his recent victims, Clare finds reason to believe she's been framed.  Now, with the help of her ex and crew of quirky baristas, Clare starts "swiping" through suspects in her own shop, determined to find the real killer before another shot rings out.  Includes a bang-up menu of tempting recipes. "Cleo Coyle is by far one of the best" --Fresh Fiction, "Fresh Pick!" Cleo Coyle is a pseudonym for Alice Alfonsi, writing in collaboration with her husband, Marc Cerasini. With more than one million books sold, Alice and Marc are New York Times bestselling authors of the Coffeehouse Mysteries--now celebrating twenty years in print, three starred reviews, a Mystery Pick of the Month by Library Journal, and multiple Best of Year list honors by reviewers. They also write the nationally bestselling Haunted Bookshop Mysteries, originally released under the pen name Alice Kimberly. Alice and Marc write independently and together and are also bestselling media tie-in writers who have penned properties for Lucasfilm, NBC, Fox, Disney, Imagine, Toho, and MGM. They live and work in New York City. Connect with Cleo at CoffeehouseMystery.com One "Shot down again . . ." My ex-husband dropped his hard body onto the soft stool at our crowded coffee bar, the thorny end of a long-stemmed rose still pricking his hand. "Three strikes in one night," I said. "Does that mean you're out?" "No, Clare. That's another kind of ball game." "I hope you're talking about the Yankees." "What do you think?" "I think you should give up pitching woo and pitch in behind this counter . . ." We were short-staffed this evening with every cafŽ table occupied, the coffee bar packed, and a line of customers spilling into the chilly West Village night. Couples who couldn't find seats were sipping their lattes on the cold sidewalk. According to my young baristas, the reason for this bounty of business was a hot new "dating game" application for smartphones. Hot was the operative word, since the app was called Cinder. This one included "user ratings" for the best public meeting places in the city, and we currently ranked in the top three. Now that our landmark coffeehouse was a hookup hot spot for digital dating, my quiet evenings at the Village Blend displayed all the tranquility of a Times Square crosswalk. "I'll work a shift," Matt told me. "But I'm not aproning-up until you caffeinate me." "You want a single?" I asked. "Make it a Red Eye." The Red Eye aka "Shot in the Dark" was the barista's answer to the bartender's boilermaker, a jolty combination of espresso poured into a cup of high-caffeine light roast. It wasn't for the faint of heart. But then neither was my ex-husband. A legend in the trade, Matteo Allegro was among the most talented coffee hunters in the world, as comfortable on a yacht floating in Portofino as in a muddy Jeep flirting with the edge of the Andes on Bolivia's infamous Death Road. Adrenaline wasn't his only drug. During our marriage, he became addicted to cocaine while partying too hard below the equator. I helped him kick that deadly habit but failed to dent his other addiction-women. Matt generated enough heat around the world's coffee belt to increase global warming, which is why I made the mature decision to put our marriage on ice. Even so, his behavior tonight seemed excessive. Who makes three dates in one night? And how could Matt have possibly struck out on all of them? The very idea was (I had to admit) amusing. Not that anyone's rejection deserved to be mocked. On the contrary, I did my level best to suppress the