Chapter 157: Mom's Baking

Ganache and Fondant and Murder: Fiona Fleming Cozy Mysteries #5

Not to be indelicate about it, but if Mom made me eat one more bite of cake I was going to throw up. And not gently or modestly or in a ladylike fashion. I'd honestly ingested enough dessert in the last hour to sink a submarine with no end in sight.

Don't get me wrong. I loved my mother's baking. Dreamed about it, in fact, and rarely, if ever, turned down a slice after dinner. My cousin Robert's comments about my expanding backside, if true-and I still argued against his jerkish assessment-could only be blamed on Mom's cake.

But a girl has her limits, and I had finally reached mine, groaning as I sat back with both hands pressing to my distended stomach, burping softly around the chocolate, vanilla, red velvet, buttercream and banana that swam on the surface of a variety of other flavors I'd rather not taste again in reverse.

Gross.