Chocolate Chip Cookie Murder (Hannah Swensen #1)(93)

Bake at 350 degrees for 15 to 20 minutes, or until golden around the edges. Remove from oven. (Don’t turn off oven!)



Mix eggs with white sugar. Add lemon juice (and zest, if you want to use it). Add salt and baking powder and mix. Then add flour and mix thoroughly. (This will be runny—it’s supposed to be.)



Pour this mixture on top of the pan you just baked and stick it back into the oven. Bake at 350 degrees F. for another 30 to 35 minutes. Then remove from the oven and sprinkle on additional powdered sugar.



Let cool thoroughly and cut into brownie-sized bars.



Brought these to the pizza party following Mike Kingston’s move, the day after Bill solved the double-homicide case and got his promotion. (I’m a good sister-in-law. I gave him every speck of the credit.)





Index of Cookie Recipes




Chocolate Chip Crunch Cookies

Regency Ginger Crisps

Pecan Chews

Black and Whites

Chocolate-Covered Cherry Delights

Old-Fashioned Sugar Cookies

Lovely Lemon Bar Cookies





Please turn the page for an exciting bonus novella and additional recipes from Joanne Fluke!





The Cookie Jar

Lake Eden, MN



Joanne Fluke

Hannah Swensen Mystery Series

Kensington Publishing Corporation

New York, NY



Dear Joanne,



It seems like forever since I’ve seen you, now that you’ve packed up and moved to Southern California. When are you coming back to Lake Eden for a visit? You have friends here, you know. And I really miss our morning coffee at The Cookie Jar.



I’m so glad you’re finally telling Candy’s story! I was surprised you didn’t write about it when it actually happened, only two weeks after I helped Bill solve his first double homicide case, but I guess you were busy writing the other books in my biography.



Now that I think about it, I believe I know why you waited so long to write Candy’s story. It’s because there’s no murder. Just think about it, Jo…you’ve written about murder in every single book. It’s even in every title! There’s this one, Chocolate Chip Cookie Murder, and Strawberry Shortcake Murder, Blueberry Muffin Murder, Lemon Meringue Pie Murder, Fudge Cupcake Murder, Sugar Cookie Murder, Peach Cobbler Murder, Cherry Cheesecake Murder, and Key Lime Pie Murder. It doesn’t take an advanced degree in clinical psychology to realize that you’re obsessing about homicide. Even Mayor Bascomb noticed. Now, both of us know that Lake Eden is a very nice place to live. And while it’s true that we have a lot of homicides for such a small town, we don’t want people to get the idea that it’s the murder capital of the world, do we? One other thing…could you make it perfectly clear that I don’t enjoy finding dead bodies, despite what Mother thinks?



Thank you for doing such a good job of chronicling my life, and thanks again for writing about Candy. I’m just glad that we could solve the puzzle of her identity. Now I’ve got to run. Moishe is yowling for me to fill his food bowl, the phone is ringing off the hook (it’s probably Mother,) and I’m late for work at The Cookie Jar. You lived here long enough to know that time never slows down in Lake Eden, unless you happen to be on Old Lake Road stuck behind a snowplow.



Hannah Swensen



P.S. How about making me ten pounds thinner in the next book? I’d really appreciate it!





CANDY FOR CHRISTMAS

Joanne Fluke





Chapter One




“’Bye, Moishe.” Hannah Swensen tossed a few salmon-flavored treats that were shaped like little fish to her twenty-five-pound feline roommate. It was the same leave-taking ritual they’d gone through every morning for the past year, but on this particular morning, as she locked the condo door behind her and started down the covered stairs that led to the basement garage, Hannah had a startling thought. If the salmon-flavored treats were shaped like little fish, what shape were the liver-flavored treats? The only thing she could think of that was shaped like a liver was…somebody’s liver. And what shape was that, anyway?

Ten minutes later, Hannah was on the road, driving the familiar route to her shop in Lake Eden, Minnesota. The winter landscape at four-thirty in the morning was gorgeous. Her headlights sparkled on the freshly fallen snow and sent what looked like diamonds skittering across the road. The lazy flakes that fell from the sky served as a curtain, muffling sound until all she could hear was the soft rumbling of her motor and the rhythmic swish of her tires. There was no other traffic. Nothing else was moving in the bitter-cold Minnesota predawn. Hannah felt like the only woman left on earth, traveling smoothly into the night in a magical candy apple red coach with four-wheel drive that was filled with the aroma of vanilla, cinnamon, and chocolate.

It would have been a perfect fantasy, except for one jarring note. The heater in Hannah’s truck was failing, and her teeth were chattering in a lengthy drum roll that would have been the envy of the rhythm section of the Jordan High marching band. As she had on every other morning this week, she promised herself that as soon as she got a little ahead, she’d have it fixed. In the meantime, her warmest parka and gloves would have to do.