{"product_id":"not-a-creature-was-purring-isbn-9781101988589","title":"Not a Creature Was Purring","description":"\u003cb\u003eSanta Claws is coming to town and checking his list for a murderer—as the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling Paws \u0026amp; Claws Mysteries continue…\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eInn owner Holly Miller finds it ruff staying cheerful over the holidays when the dead body of a beloved businessman turns up in the pet-friendly town of Wagtail, Virginia.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Inspired by her German heritage, Holly’s grandmother has arranged for Wagtail to have a Christkindl Market packed with goodies and decorations for the howliday tourists. But Holly’s mood takes an unseasonable turn when she learns that her old flame and childhood friend Holmes Richardson has brought his fiancée home—and she’ll be staying at the Sugar Maple Inn…\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e A love triangle becomes the last thing on Holly’s mind when her Jack Russell Trixie’s nose for trouble leads her to the corpse of a pet clothing tycoon. Now Holly and her dedicated detectives—Trixie and Twinkletoes the cat—must sniff out the killer to keep Christmas from going to the dogs…\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eDelicious recipes for owners and pets included!\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003ePraise for the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e Bestselling Paws \u0026amp; Claws Mysteries\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Wagtail Mountain will appeal to animal lovers and mystery lovers, alike.”—Kate Carlisle, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of the Bibliophile Mysteries\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Davis has created another charming series.”—Sofie Kelly, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of the Magical Cats Mysteries\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Davis has created a town that any pet would love—as much as their owners do. And they won’t let a little thing like murder spoil their enjoyment.”—Sheila Connolly, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of the County Cork, Museum, and Orchard Mysteries\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Murder, mystery, a bit of romance and seriously PETS!! Who could ask for anything more?”—Open Book Society\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Touches all the bases of the cozy mystery—including a bit of romance—and does so with style.”—\u003ci\u003eRichmond Times-Dispatch\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eKRISTA DAVIS\u003c\/b\u003e is the\u003ci\u003e New York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author of the Paws \u0026amp; Claws Mysteries, including \u003ci\u003eMission Impawsible, Murder Most Howl\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eThe Ghost and Mrs. Mewer\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eMurder, She Barked\u003c\/i\u003e, as well as the Domestic Diva Mysteries, including \u003ci\u003eThe Diva Serves High Tea\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eThe Diva Steals a Chocolate Kiss\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eThe Diva Wraps It Up\u003c\/i\u003e. She lives in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia with a brood of cats and dogs, including a snoopy Jack Russell terrier and a nosy calico cat. Her friends and family complain about being guinea pigs for her recipes, but she notices that they keep coming back for more.One\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Ouch, ouch, ouch!\" Zelda whispered.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I told you to wear gloves,\" muttered Shelley.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I could barely make them out on the dark porch. It was one in the      morning, and Wagtail was slumbering. If it hadn't been for the      moon, I wouldn't have been able to see them at all.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Gloves are too cumbersome,\" Zelda groused. \"I don't know how you      can place the lights precisely with woolly fabric on your      fingers.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I shivered as a cold wind swept through. My elf tights with one      red leg and one green leg weren't thick enough to keep out the      chill. We stood on Marie Carr's front porch, hastily wrapping      colorful lights on the Christmas tree we were delivering. Shelley      passed me the cord of lights. I wrapped them around my section of      the tree and handed them to Zelda. \"Hush, you guys,\" I hissed.      \"Two kids live here. You'll wake them!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Wagtail, a small town in the mountains of Virginia, had      experienced a boom year by catering to visitors who brought their      dogs and cats for a vacation where they could be part of the fun.      This year, instead of exchanging gifts with our neighbors or      having secret Santas, the town had decided to make the holidays      merry for our less-fortunate residents. My grandmother, whom I      called Oma, German for grandma, had installed a suggestion box in      the lobby of the Sugar Maple Inn, which we ran together. Anyone      could stop by and drop off a suggestion for a deserving neighbor      or a resident in need. And then the semisecret Elf Squad was      dispatched.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e An observant person might have noticed that Shelley Dixon, a      waitress at the inn, and Zelda York, who worked at the      registration desk, had altered their schedules and could have      suspected them of being elves. But we were also taking turns at      the Sugar Maple Inn booth at the Christkindl Market, so our      schedules were all twisted around. As far as I could tell, no one      had identified us yet. We weren't worried about the adults but      were trying to keep a low profile so we wouldn't spoil Christmas      magic for the children of Wagtail.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Shadow Hobbs, the Sugar Maple Inn handyman, had cut the perfectly      shaped balsam fir earlier in the day, and we elves had transported      it to the Carr house on a golf cart that we had decorated as      Santa's sleigh. Our previous forays had caused rumors that Santa's      elves had been spotted in Wagtail to spread through the elementary      school like wildfire. We had been careful to dress in cute elf      attire in case we were seen. Even Trixie, my Jack Russell terrier,      wore a red and green dog dress with a hat that curled at the top,      just like ours. At the moment, she was sniffing boxes of ornaments      we had stacked by the front door.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The Schroeder children were local favorites and had received many      notes in the suggestion box. At ages eight and four, Ethan and Ava      Schroeder had been orphaned when their parents and only living      grandparents were lost in a plane crash. Marie Carr had taken them      in as foster children until someone adopted them. Everyone was      determined to brighten their holiday.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I still say we should just leave the lights with the ornaments,\"      said Zelda in a low voice.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Where's your Christmas spirit? The lights are the worst part of      decorating,\" Shelley hissed back. \"This way they can plug it right      in, make hot chocolate, and hang ornaments.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Heaven only knew what the tree would look like when the lights      were plugged in. Another frigid breeze blew in the night, and I      was fairly sure my nose had gone numb.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I read that the best way to put on the lights is in three      triangular sections,\" whispered Zelda. \"Maybe we should try that.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"That's crazy,\" said Shelley. \"You have to zigzag them along the      branches so you'll get depth in the lights.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e They bickered like sisters, but Shelley and Zelda were part of the      Sugar Maple Inn family. When I moved to Wagtail, I hadn't expected      to find a family among the employees, but I was delighted that it      had worked out that way.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My parents had divorced when I was young, and for the first time      in decades, I was where I wanted to be for Christmas-in Wagtail.      No planes, no trains, no hasty visits, and best of all, no      arguments about where I should be and when. My parents had both      started new families, and while I loved them dearly, the truth was      that I always felt like an outsider at their new homes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I had such happy childhood memories of Christmas in Wagtail, and      while I knew things would be different seen through my adult eyes,      I couldn't help being excited about spending the holiday in      Wagtail. I looked forward to the ringing of the church bells and      the possibility of Fluffy Cake, which I remembered fondly. Not to      mention that my childhood friend and heartthrob, Holmes      Richardson, would be home for the holidays.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"There. We're done,\" whispered Shelley.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e At that moment, I spied a flutter in the curtain on the window      that overlooked the porch.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Dash away now!\" I whispered, jumping off the porch.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Thank goodness our rush to the sleigh-golf cart caught Trixie's      interest and she leaped on board with us. The electric golf cart      couldn't go too terribly fast, but I gunned it as Zelda shook      sleigh bells attached to a leather horse harness. The merry tinkle      made me grin every time. What could be more fun?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Did you really say dash away?\" Shelley laughed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"It just came out. I guess I'm in the spirit of the season.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e At that moment, a light blazed upon us, so bright that it briefly      blinded me, and I slammed the brakes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Trixie yelped in surprise.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"It's a sign from heaven,\" breathed Zelda with wonder in her tone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I blinked and gazed around.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Not unless the Grinch has a heavenly connection,\" muttered      Shelley.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She pointed to our right. I squinted against the glare. A gigantic      Grinch with huge devious eyes loomed over the roofs of the houses.      He must have just been turned on because we would surely have      noticed him before. There were no high-rises, billboards, or      garish lighting in Wagtail. The moon was usually the only light in      the night sky. The Grinch's head had a green cast and glowed as      though a strong light must be inside. I guessed it was a blow-up      figure.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Even though we were a couple of blocks away, we could hear the      notes of \"Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer\" coming from the      ghastly fellow.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I'm all for holiday fun,\" said Zelda, \"but if I thought that guy      was going to come down my chimney, I would brick it up. Not to      mention that I don't think anyone in the neighborhood, including      me, will get much sleep tonight.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I dropped off Zelda first. The repeating song was growing      annoying, and lights were flicking on inside houses all over the      neighborhood.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Shelley lived on the other side of town, where it was blissfully      quiet and only twinkling Christmas lights on trees and rooflines      glowed in the night. I drove the electric golf cart back in the      direction of the giant Grinch to Rose Richardson's detached      garage, where I parked and closed the door. Holmes's grandmother,      Rose, was like a grandmother to me too, and happened to be my      Oma's best friend. We were hiding the sleigh-golf cart in her      garage so children wouldn't see it around town during the day.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Trixie and I walked back to the inn on the path that meandered      through the green, the park in the center of Wagtail, which wasn't      so green now that snow lay on it. We passed the giant Christmas      tree that remained lighted all through the night. Dark Christkindl      market stalls lined the perimeter of the green. Bright lights      twinkled in the trees that lined the path, and a few snowflakes      floated in the air. It was like our own private wonderland, except      for the tinkling notes of \"Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The Sugar Maple Inn loomed at the end of the green, nothing short      of splendid. White lights on pine swags graced the railings of the      front porch, wound up the columns, and followed the arch of the      ceiling between them. By day, white and red ornaments added a      touch of color to the greenery. Battery-operated lanterns lined      the stairs. Bold black and red buffalo plaid pillows adorned the      white rocking chairs, adding a hint of country style. Lights      glowed on the lush wreaths that hung in the windows. And on the      third floor, on the balcony outside of my bedroom, stood a tree      with sparkling lights that seemed to be suspended high in the air.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The windows of the inn were largely dark, save for those on the      first floor in the common areas, but at this hour, even those were      somewhat muted.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e On the second floor, in a guest room window, I thought I spied a      face looking out at us. But in the dark, and with the large wreath      that hung in the window, I wasn't quite sure.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e As I approached, a group of people gathered on the porch. Most of      them wore pajamas with winter coats over them.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Trixie and I trotted up the stairs.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Casey Collins, our young night manager, stood in the doorway,      looking terrified. \"Holly! Holly's here. She can help you.\" He      grabbed me by the arm and tugged me toward him like a shield.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I stumbled inside. \"Won't you all come in?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e When everyone had piled into the lobby and the door was closed,      Aunt Birdie demanded, \"Wake up your grandmother this instant!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Two\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I did my best to stay calm as I faced the surly crowd. Oma was the      mayor of Wagtail, but I hated to disturb her sleep for something      like this. After all, I was dressed and awake. \"I'm guessing      you're here about the Grinch?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"It's forty-five feet tall,\" said a man whose red plaid pajama      pants jutted from under his coat. \"No one can sleep.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Where is it exactly?\" I asked.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"At that awful Rupert Grimpley's house,\" declared Aunt Birdie.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e That was enough to make them all start grumbling again. We had a      few guests staying at the inn, and I didn't want them awakened by      angry townspeople. I didn't know Rupert well. He was a slightly      gruff sort.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Where is Liesel?\" Aunt Birdie pressed. Oma and Aunt Birdie had      never gotten along very well. My mother lived in California, about      as far away as she could get from her older half-sister, Birdie.      My father and his sister had hightailed it out of Wagtail as well,      leaving their mother, Oma, to run the family inn. Now that Oma was      older, she had brought me on board as her partner. Maybe because      they saw themselves as the family matriarchs, Oma and Aunt Birdie      were prone to butting heads.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Thin and gaunt, clothes hung beautifully on Aunt Birdie. But her      skin sank in under prominent cheekbones and her eyes blazed with      fury. In another time, she would have been called a handsome      woman. She took great pains with her wardrobe, and even now she      was the best dressed person in the room. I felt certain she didn't      sleep in those gray wool trousers.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yeah!\" called someone else. \"She's the mayor. She should handle      this.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I held up my palm. \"I have this under control.\" A blatant lie, of      course. \"Now, everyone go home, and I will take care of the      Grinch.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e They still grumbled as they filed out.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Only Aunt Birdie remained, one eyebrow lifted critically. \"You      should change clothes before you go. I don't think Rupert will be      cowed by an elf.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She was probably right, but I had a secret weapon. \"You too, Aunt      Birdie, go on home.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Pulling out my cell phone and dialing, I walked up the grand      staircase.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Officer Dave Quinlan answered the phone immediately. \"If you're      calling about the Grinch, I'm on my way. I've already had twenty      complaints.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I'll meet you there,\" I said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e As fast as I could, I swapped my tights and elf coat for jeans, a      sweater, and a puffy jacket. Trixie had taken off her elf hat by      herself. I quickly exchanged her elf coat for a red fleece dog      coat.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e We ran back downstairs.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Casey was still in the lobby. \"Your aunt scares me.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Aunt Birdie intimidated a lot of people, and Casey was still young      enough to be easily rattled. He attended community college on      nearby Snowball Mountain, and even though he wasn't a kid, he      reminded me of the young Harry Potter, with round wire-rimmed      glasses and a shock of dark hair that fell over his forehead.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You're not the only one who feels that way.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"What do I tell people who call and want to speak to your      grandmother?\" asked Casey.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Tell them we're already on it.\" I walked out the door, jogged      down the steps and hurried and along the sidewalk that bordered      the green. Trixie raced ahead of me, sniffing scents as she went.      The stores and restaurants to my left were closed, but lights      shone in their windows. The Christkindl booths to my right, just      inside the green, were shut down for the night as well. I barely      noticed them as I drew closer to the Grinch.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He loomed over everything, his sinister eyes angled ominously. The      music grew in volume as I approached. No wonder people were      complaining. What was Rupert thinking?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Officer Dave and I arrived at the same time. Formerly a sailor in      the Navy, he now worked for the police department headquartered on      Snowball Mountain, but he lived in Wagtail and knew the residents      well.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A crowd of people on the street parted as we walked up. The base      of the Grinch took up the entire front yard of Rupert's home. The      music blasted, drowning out conversation. We had to walk around      the Grinch to get to the porch of his bungalow.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Dave rapped on the front door. \"Rupert?\" he shouted. \"It's Dave      Quinlan. Open your door. This is police business.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It wasn't easy to hear Rupert over the music, but from behind the      door he yelled, \"Ain't done nothin' wrong!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Rupert, you're disturbing the peace. Now open up!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The door swung open just a crack. Rupert peered out at us. \"I'm      celebratin' the season just like everybody else.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Come on, Rupert,\" said Dave. \"Nobody can sleep with this racket      and the lights beaming into their homes.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I have a right to decorate. Look over there at the neighbor's      house. They have lights all over their house. I don't see you      makin' a fuss over that.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Dave crossed his arms over his chest. \"They're not shining in      bedroom windows, Rupert, nor are they blasting music. Now close      down your Grinch for the night.\"","brand":"Berkley","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46305214562533,"sku":"NP9781101988589","price":7.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781101988589.jpg?v=1767733890","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/not-a-creature-was-purring-isbn-9781101988589","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}