Occupation: Therapist

First of all, I’m gorgeous. Poppy said so. Let’s just get that out of the way. And there is absolutely no reason why the small, loud ones should run away crying that I’m a scary looking Halloween cat. Even though I’m told that it is actually Halloween. Poppy is always momsplaining that I’m a black smoke Persian and my nose is flat and my eyes are supposed to be this color orange. So, if you all could just relax that’d be great.

I don’t think people fully appreciate just how special I am, or how much work I do around here. I deserve some crunchy crab treats just for putting up with their nonsense all day. Every sunrise I have to make sure Poppy is awake to get busy with that can opener. It often takes pushing several things off the dresser before she stops throwing pillows and actually gets out of bed. She can be pretty lazy. And for some reason she’s obsessed with me knowing what time it is. Figaro, it’s four am! It’s five thirty! So? I got nowhere to be.

Then I have to be sympathetic while I listen to her complain about something Aunt Ginny did –always hilarious – like signing her up to host a paranormal dinner tour or letting ghost hunters into the bed and breakfast with TV cameras. Now Aunt Ginny and Royce are running around pretending the house is haunted, and strangers are poking around with lots of light up gizmos that they don’t want me playing with. If you come into my house, your toys are fair game. I’m playing with or without your permission.

This week has been particularly trying and the reason is Owen Rodney, PET Psychic. This fool doesn’t know his own mind let alone what I’m thinking. All day long with his endless nosy questions. How does that make you feel, Figaro? It makes me feel hungry, Owen. It makes me feel like you need to mind your own business, Owen. And maybe quit talking trash about me to the squirrels, Owen. Apparently, Owen felt in his psyche that I wanted some Whisker Lickin’s so he’s brought me some.

There’s the doorbell again. Time to go scare the bejeezus outta some tiny vagrant beggars looking for candy after I eat this snack of reward. Ugh. These are chicken. I said I wanted the crab treats, Owen. A real psychic would know that.

Mischief Nights Are Murder, A Poppy McAllister Mystery Book #8
Genre: Cozy
Release: July 2023
Format: Print, Digital
Purchase Link

Poppy McAllister discovers that gluten-free Halloweens can scare up another case of murder in latest installment of this delightful culinary B&B mystery series!

Poppy is none too pleased when her B&B is coerced into participating in the Cape May Haunted Dinners Tour during Halloween season. Though her knack for finding dead bodies has given the place a spooky reputation, the Murder House is a completely undeserved nickname. At least it used to be . . .

While Poppy wrangles with some guests who can’t stop squabbling with each other—including a paranormal researcher, a very quirky pet psychic who freaks out her portly Persian, and an undercover tabloid reporter eager to catch her staff in a lie—one of them winds up facedown in a plate of tiramisu. And now she has bigger worries than getting her house TP’d . . .

Includes Recipes from Poppy’s Kitchen!

About the author
Libby Klein graduated Lower Cape May Regional High School in the ’80s. Her classes revolved mostly around the culinary sciences and theater, with the occasional nap in Chemistry. She writes culinary cozy mysteries from her Northern Virginia office while trying to keep her naughty cat Figaro off her keyboard. Libby was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease that prevents her from eating gluten without exploding. Because of her love for cake, she now creates gluten free goodies and includes the recipes in her Cape May based Poppy McAllister series. Most of her hobbies revolve around eating, and travel, and eating while traveling. She insists she can find her way to any coffee shop anywhere in the world, even while blindfolded. Follow all of her nonsense at libbykleinbooks.com.

All comments are welcomed.