This week I pleased to host author, EM Kaplan
EM Kaplan is the author of un-cozy, un-culinary Josie Tucker mysteries. The newest snarky mystery, DIM SUM, DEAD SOME, was released in January 2015. She also has written a nascent fantasy/paranormal series, anchored by the novel, Unmasked.
EM Kaplan grew up in a part of Tucson, Arizona where there were no sidewalks. Like a tumbleweed, she roamed from Massachusetts to California to Texas, and is now settled in Woodstock, IL. She’s also been a Girl Scout, trombonist, toilet-cleaner, beginner ninja, hip-hop dancer, and subversive marketeer.
Dim Sum, Dead Some
Ivan Sorokin is missing. Who wants him out of the picture—his wife, his business partner, or the stripper who holds his heart?
Josie Tucker stands on Beach Street with her back to the San Francisco wharf. Above her, the Ghirardelli sign winks in the dusky twilight, seducing her. The ice cream parlor lights beckon like a lactose lothario, a casein casanova, trying hard to woo her. But her heart longs for dumplings, for dim sum.
Dim sum means “heart’s delight.” Imagine nibbling at a savory golden pouch stuffed with delicately seasoned meat. If a lover offers the morsel on the tips of exquisitely lacquered chopsticks late in the morning while reclining on silken cushions…that’s food for the heart.
Chinatown. Dim sum. Murder. Josie’s perfect ingredients for adventure.
Here is an excerpt from Dim Sum, Dead Some:
“I need you to talk me down from a ledge.” Holding her cell phone to her ear, Josie stood on the sidewalk on Beach Street with her back to the San Francisco wharf. Above her, the bright Ghirardelli lights winked at her in the dusky twilight, seducing her. The sign beckoned to her like a lover, a lactose lothario, a casein Casanova.
She shivered even though the temperature was nearly twenty degrees warmer than at home in Boston. Here, the sun was just now setting, night cloaking the bay in darkness, the lights shining on the water. She could hear the occasional squawk from an ocean bird, the low bellow of a boat horn on the bay. The air smelled like ocean and fish, and Italian food. She wasn’t far from North Beach, and the wind was blowing the aroma of garlic straight to her nose. She sniffed again. Maybe someone nearby was simmering clams in white wine—San Francisco was an olfactory paradise for a food critic. Especially one who couldn’t eat.
Josie’s hooded sweater and denim jacket were doing a good job of keeping out the wind and helping her to blend in with the smattering of tourists trying to be hipsters with their hands in the holes of their sweaters, just like the song. She was seeing a whole lot of funky, knitted caps and ferocious “statement” beards walking around the wharf this evening as she stood blinking at the Ghirardelli sign. She shivered again, not from the cold, but from the fact that she was about to do something very, very bad to her stomach.
On the other end of her phone, her boyfriend Drew said, “Are you anywhere near the Golden Gate Bridge?” His boyfriend status was a recent development for them. They had been long-time friends, college buddies who had recently discovered that they were better off dating. Much, much better off, she thought, her insides doing an unnatural happy wiggle from top to toe. Grouchiness was her natural state, but Josie and Drew were two flavors that perfectly complemented each other. Peaches and cream. Peanut butter and lemon grass. Bacon and beetroot. Bacon and, well, anything.
“Noooo,” she said, not able to keep the rise out of her voice, which made it sound like a question. She noted with amusement that he didn’t sound too worried. He didn’t believe for a second that she would intentionally harm herself. Should she be worried that he wasn’t worried? Maybe it was better not to overthink that one.
Visit her at www.JustTheEmWords.com or write to her at JustTheEmWords@gmail.com.
Amazon page: http://Author.to/EMKaplan
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