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Putting the dead in deadline
To Bee or not to Bee? When the widely disliked Honeywell Stingers football coach is found murdered, 17-year-old Millie is determined to investigate. She is chasing a lead for the school newspaper – and looking to clear her father, the assistant coach, and prime suspect.
Millie's partner is gorgeous, smart—and keeping secrets
Millie joins forces with her mysterious classmate Chase who seems to want to help her even while covering up secrets of his own.
She’s starting to get a reputation…without any of the benefits.
Drama—and bodies—pile up around Millie and she chases clues, snuggles Baxter the so-ugly-he’s-adorable bassett hound, and storms out of the world’s most awkward school dance/memorial mash-up. At least she gets to eat a lot of pie.
Best-selling author Beth Fantaskey’s funny, fast-paced blend of Clueless and Nancy Drew is a suspenseful page-turner that is the best time a reader can have with buried weapons, chicken clocks, and a boy who only watches gloomy movies…but somehow makes Millie smile. Bee-lieve it.
breath while my eyes explored a long counter that was nearly covered by dough and fresh berries and the blessed union of those two things: Pie. After pie. After pie. Forget Hell’s Kitchen. This was Heaven’s Bakery. “Mom, seriously, enough with the pie,” Roy groaned, trailing behind all of us—and definitely not speaking for me when he advised her, “Nobody wants any!” Moments ago, I’d suspected that I was in the presence of a cold-blooded killer and had half wanted to run away, but all that was
because my mom had taken it to counter the effects of chemotherapy. I’d brought it to her dozens of times during her treatment. And I really hated the look in Detective Lohser’s eyes—the hostile little gleam—as he met mine, saying, like he knew what he held, too, “Interesting, huh?” Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as much of an idiot as I’d thought. Chapter 49 “What was that all about, with the medicine?” Chase asked when we were outside, standing next to his car on Mr. Killdare’s dark driveway.
to play in the NFL?” “I’m expected to be a doctor,” Chase said over his shoulder. “And I want that.” He shrugged. “I am getting scouted by Big Ten schools, though, and I’d like to go that far. Just to see if I could cut it at that level.” Chase had just described Mike Price’s dream—Mike’s probably former best shot at televised glory and a free college degree—in a way that came off like, “Eh. Whatever.” No wonder Mike seemed to despise Chase, too. Maybe as much, if not more, than he’d hated
things would be okay, because I was afraid it would make him feel weak to be reassured by his child. And more to the point, I had no clue what was going to happen. We just hung out. Being quiet. After about a half-hour, the door opened and Ms. Parkins slipped into the house quietly, as if she already knew the news and expected the grim mood. That was my cue to get up, and I went over to meet her at the door, since I was on my way out. “I’m really glad you’re here,” I whispered with a glance at
the first home game, and he just laughed. Laughed at me!” She still sounded incredulous, while I thought, For the last time—what is the big deal with FOOTBALL? Then Ms. Beamish took a step closer to me, starting to raise her weapon—to either demonstrate what had happened next or to do me in. Or, more likely, to kill both of those birds—one of them a redheaded Ostermeyer—with one replica tower. “When he did that, something inside of me just snapped,” she growled, as if she’d summoned those