Welcome to Otter Lake, where the relaxing, restorative atmosphere is to die for.
Erica Bloom is in no rush to return to Otter Lake, the site of her mother's spiritual retreat for women. Erica met her inner goddess years ago and she's happy to have forged a new identity on her own, thank you very much. But her new-age-y, well-meaning mother is losing her grip on the business, and needs Erica's help. So she heads back to her New Hampshire hometown, where nothing much has changed-except for maybe the body in the well...
SKINNY DIPPING WITH MURDER
When Erica was a teenager, she fell prey to a practical joke that left her near-naked in Otter Lake's annual Raspberry Social. The incident was humiliating, but it wasn't like anyone got killed-until now. Those who were behind that long-ago prank are starting to turn up dead, and Erica's appearance in town makes her a prime suspect. To make matters worse, the town sheriff just happens to be Erica's old nemesis, Grady Forrester...who also happens to be hotter than ever. Can Erica find a way to dig up the truth-before someone digs her grave?
The first book in Auralee Wallace's Otter Lake Mystery series is a killer good time!
About the Author
Auralee Wallace has played many roles in her life, including college professor, balloon seller, and collections agent. When this semi-natural blonde mother of three children (and psychiatric nurse to two rescue cats) isn't writing humorous novels about quirky characters, she can often be found pontificating about the Golden Age of soap operas or warring with a family of peregrine falcons for the rights to her backyard.
Read an Excerpt
Skinny Dipping With Murder
By Auralee Wallace
St. Martin's PressCopyright © 2016 Auralee Wallace
All rights reserved.
Any minute now.
Any minute I'd hear the distant hum of my mother's boat. I glanced at my watch as the dock swayed gently beneath my feet. Now if I could just believe that, maybe the vein in my forehead would stop throbbing.
I scanned the distant shoreline. Home. Otter Lake, in New Hampshire, "Live Free or Die." Camp country. Our town had everything the postcards promised. Long docks stretching into the water. Nights with a billion stars. Rustic cabins nestled into pines. Summers were spent on the lake and winters on the snowmobile trail. Paradise for some fourteen hundred citizens. For me? Well, let's just say Freud would have had his hands full helping me figure that one out.
The walk from the bus stop had taken less than ten minutes, but it had left me drenched with gritty sweat. Even though the lowering sun was dragging the day into late afternoon, it was still stinking hot. I stood at the edge of the dock, staring longingly at the water. Sure, it smelled faintly of rotting fish and lake muck, but it had to be cooler than the heavy air.
Summer at the lake. Happy words, right? Cicadas buzzing. Midnight swims. Crackling campfires. So that had to be excitement I felt in my belly ... yeah, butterflies just barfing with excitement.
The sun forced me down to sit on the edge of my suitcase, and I counted fifteen minutes tick by on my watch. I thought again about my cell, but I already knew it was a lost cause. The battery had died about six hours back.
I should have seen this coming.
My mother. Summer Bloom. A woman who loved me with a passion that could only be described as delusional. A woman who raised motherhood to a level of mythic proportions. And a woman who could never seem to remember I was sitting somewhere at the end of a dock waiting for her.
In her defense, details were not her thing. She'd leave herself sitting on a dock too.
At first glance, it would probably surprise a lot of people to know that my mother had an instinct for business, but it was the truth. Women from all across the world flocked to my mother's island retreat, Earth, Moon, and Stars, to get in touch with their inner goddesses, and it was all because of her authenticity. In fact, my mother's inner goddess was so robust, I'm pretty sure she'd absorbed mine in utero like some parasitic twin.
I gathered the hair slicked against my neck and twisted it into a ponytail. The view of the distant trees rippled in the heat as my eyes stayed focused on the spot from which my mother's boat should emerge.
Back when I was a teenager, this was the type of thing that really would have bothered me, but I was an adult now. So what if it had been almost eight years since I'd been home, and it took about twelve hours of traveling for me to get to this very spot? This was part of the being home experience ... and it wasn't like I was stranded.
I looked over the edge of the platform to the canoe knocking lazily against the stakes of the dock. Normally, my mom paid Red, Otter Lake's local electrician, whose hair hadn't seen red in about thirty years, to cart the retreat's guests back and forth in his pontoon. Red liked to keep busy, and even though he wasn't much for small talk, he probably would have done the job for free. My mother left the canoe for the times when Red wasn't available. That's the type of place Otter Lake was. I suppose someone could have stolen it. But why?
I sighed heavily, hot breath streaming through my lips.
I could do this.
I just needed to see my mom, do the one mysterious favor that apparently only I could do to save her business, stay off the lake radar, and get the hell back to Chicago.
Not many sane people would travel across the country without knowing the reason why. But those people probably didn't have recurring nightmares of their mothers practicing Wiccan rituals in their one-bedroom apartments because said mother got booted off the island ... literally.
Then I heard it.
A motor humming in the distance.
I jumped up from the suitcase, ignoring the sweat dripping down the backs of my calves.
She had remembered. This was a good sign. Maybe things had changed. A lot of time had passed.
A second or two later, my stomach sank as I watched a slick boat bounce its way across the lake, chrome finishings glinting in the sunlight.
Not my mother.
Things at the lake definitely had changed. Nobody I used to know could afford that kind of boat.
Slowly three hazy figures came into view.
It couldn't be.
It just couldn't.
I was a good person.
"Hey!" a voice shouted. "Boobsie Bloom!"
I closed my eyes.
This was happening.
"Hey guys," I called back, squinting underneath the hand I had shielding my eyes. Yup, a little thicker all over, but it was definitely them.
The three fluffateers. Actually the first part of that name was another f-word — their choice — but it was best not to think too deeply on that.
Any hope I had that things around the lake had changed faded before the vision of grubby baseball hats and tank tops drooped over fledgling beer bellies.
"We heard you were back, and just in time for the Raspberry Social."
That was Tommy, leader of the three and Grady Forrester's cousin.
Who's Grady? Only the guy every girl was in love with back in high school, myself unfortunately included. He was beautiful back then. Cartoon-prince beautiful — not the kind who likes glass slippers and balls, but the kind who's a bit of a jerk, and a starburst dings off his teeth every time he smiles. Yup, everyone in Otter Lake had at least one story of a near miss with a moose, and all the single females? Well, they'd all had at least one head-on collision with Grady Forrester. Mine had been nearly fatal ... metaphorically speaking. Tommy looked a lot like Grady, but was nowhere near as good-looking. I could only imagine that must have stung a little.
"Yup, here I am," I said, struggling to keep my voice neutral, adult.
A loud belch blared in response.
Dickie. Less evil than Tommy, but more perverted.
"This calls for a beer! Here's to Boobsie Bloom being back in town." All three cracked open a can and chugged in unison. I'd like to say I was shocked by the drinking and boating, but I'm not that good of an actress.
"Thanks, guys. That's, uh, real sweet, but should I be calling you in?"
Dickie slapped his beer over the right side of his chest. "Nonalcoholic. Swear to God."
The vein in my forehead throbbed again.
"Right." I bent slightly at the waist and grabbed the handle of my suitcase. "Well, it was great seeing you guys, but —"
"Erica Bloom, where are your manners? We were just catching up. The eight-year anniversary of that fateful night is almost here. It can't go by unnoticed." Tommy smiled and elbowed his minions. "Men, let's take a moment to remember that special night from so many years ago and pay it the respect it deserves." All three whipped off their hats and held them to their chests.
I was trying to hide the fact that they were getting to me. I really was. But they knew. I might as well have had steam coming out of my ears. And when I saw the amused glint in Tommy's eyes, I also knew I couldn't stop what was coming next.
"Look out, boys! She's going to blow!"
And there it was.
The nightmare chant of my childhood.
I had almost forgotten.
I'm not going to say I left home and completely reinvented myself ... but I left home and completely reinvented myself. And then within minutes of being back, all my hard work was gone. I swear, you bite one kid on the shoulder in the first grade after he calls your mom a space cadet, and suddenly your anger becomes legendary. And yes, that one kid was Tommy.
I pointed at him and laughed halfheartedly. "Good memory, Tommy. That's me. Watch out. I might blow." I caught myself giving some warning jazz hands.
God, make it stop.
All three laughed, shooting looks of admiration back and forth.
No. No. This was not happening. I was not the Erica Bloom of all those years ago. I would not be baited by beer-swilling man-boys who'd left their best years back in high school. I was a calm, confident woman — who needed to end this conversation now.
"Aw, don't look so sad, Bloom. We're messing with you," Tommy said, putting on a pouty smile. "In fact, if we had known all of that business at the social would make you leave, well, we might not have done it." He paused for a second then slapped the other two on the shoulders. "Who am I kidding? We totally would have done it."
My face burned hotter. "You know that's not why I left, right, Tommy? I —" I caught myself just as that slow Grady smile slid, once again, across Tommy's face.
That settled it.
It didn't matter that I could feel blood pulsing behind my eyeballs. I was better than this. I would not let these guys faze me.
"You know what, Tommy?" I said, inhaling hot air through my nose. "It was pretty funny."
"What? That's it?" Tommy looked at me sideways, smiled, and turned his bare shoulder toward me before chomping his teeth together.
I'll admit it. Things could have gone badly for me in that moment. I saw myself launching off the end of the dock. I saw me clotheslining Tommy into the water. I saw me going to jail for his semiaccidental drowning. And yet, it still seemed worth it. But then I heard, "I like your hair, Erica."
Sweet, sweet Harry.
The third fluffateer. He was the nicest of the three and had always been taken with a nice head of hair — especially his own. It was probably a good thing that his parents hadn't been the ones to choose the name Dickie.
"The dark brown goes really well with your blue eyes," he said, cocking his head. Unlike the other two with their baseball caps, he wore a fishing hat covered with lures. "And the bangs and ponytail? They are so happy. Totally happy. Happy hair." He chuckled to himself.
Harry. Always so sweet ... and so high.
I was just about to say thank you when Dickie jumped in.
"No, I liked that bleached-blond thing you used to do," he said. "You could have done porn with that hair." He had the face of a man who had given this some thought.
Suddenly I realized I was knee-deep in water yanking at the rope that tethered the canoe to the dock. Hmm, I didn't remember leaving the dock. Great, now I was experiencing stress-induced blackouts.
"Okay, guys. It's been great catching up, but you must have stuff to do?"
All three stared back at me blankly.
"Children? I mean, all of that unprotected ..."
"Never mind. Okay, well, my mom's expecting me, so ..."
"We'll give you a ride, won't we, boys?" Tommy said, slapping the other two with the back of his hands. They nodded like puppets.
"That's sweet. Great boat by the way. But you know, I've been gone so long. I miss canoeing. Not much of that in Chicago. You understand."
"Sure. Sure," Tommy replied, nodding. "But before we go, you're coming to the social, right?"
I tried to smile, but I probably just managed to look nauseous.
"No, nope, no. I'm only staying the week. I have to be back at work before then." That was a total lie. I had about three months of vacation days saved up. I was a stenographer back in Chicago, and for the most part, I liked it. Life made sense in court. Stupid people got punished in court. Stupid people who weren't me.
"Well, if you change your mind ..."
A paper airplane shot out of Tommy's hand. The point hit me right between the eyes before I could bat it away. I tried to ignore the sound of high fives as I unfolded the yellow sheet of paper.
All the particulars of the social glared back at me in bold type, but my eyes zoomed in on the cartoon character hastily drawn on the bottom left-hand corner. It was a beaver posed as a pinup model wearing a raspberry-print bikini and a knit hat.
I could feel even more blood rushing to my face.
"We worked really hard on it," Dickie said.
Tommy nodded. "It looks like you. Don't you think?"
I barely managed a weak laugh.
"You sure you don't want a ride?" Harry asked. "You don't look so good."
"No, I'm great. Super, in fact. Just super."
"Well then, later, Boobsie," Tommy said.
The boat's engine roared to life, and Tommy's up to no good smile slid back across his face. My brain hooked on some memories and tried to pull them into focus in time, but they didn't quite make it. Before I could duck, the boat fishtailed away, sending a fabulous spray of water smack into my face.
Forty-five minutes later, I guided the canoe alongside the dock leading up to the retreat.
I rested the paddle across my thighs as I took in the view. Tiger lilies framed logs dug into the hill forming steps leading up to the main house. Cedars and pines gave shade to the steep slopes on either side. Little had been done to the property or the cabins since it was built in the fifties, so it gave off a sleepy sense of nature mixed with nostalgia. I had watched hundreds of female visitors stand at the bottom of those steps and, within seconds, their shoulders would drop and smiles would spread wide across their faces. For me, it was a little different. As a kid, I swear every time I climbed those steps, someone in the forest was whispering, chi chi chi ah ah ah.
I quickly pulled the canoe onto the shore and grabbed my suitcase. I then hustled over to the stairs. The sooner I got there, the sooner I could leave.
At the top, I dropped my suitcase to wipe the sweat from my face.
The main lodge stood a couple hundred feet away. The same faded gravel path ran right up to the roughly hewn front steps, and the same overgrown hydrangeas still nestled up against the sturdy wraparound porch, softening the heavy feel of lumber.
So cute. So forest-friendly. So terrifying.
Behind the lodge, twelve cabins dotted the woods. As far as I knew, only five were in working order. And by working order, I mean didn't leak. None of the cabins had electricity or plumbing. Just beds, curtains, and the sweet smell of cedar. More pebbled paths led from each cabin to a communal washroom outfitted with three composting toilets and three showers connected to tanks filled with sun-warmed water. When I was twelve, I made a vow never to use those toilets, not even in an emergency. A dock spider crawling into your sandal will do that.
I rolled the handle of my suitcase in my palm.
I was going to see my mom for the first time in eight years.
The sun made its final dip below the horizon behind me, cooling my clothes damp with sweat.
It wasn't like I didn't talk to her. She called me every other day at least.
And I never meant for it to be eight years, but all that time had just kind of built up. My mom would have come to visit me, but travel wasn't exactly her thing. Airplanes were filled with radiation, apparently. Buses, toxic fumes. And after much debate, she reluctantly agreed that hitchhiking probably wasn't the best option. Truth be told, I think maybe we were playing a game of chicken. I didn't want to come back to Otter Lake, and my mother really, really did want me to come back to Otter Lake — and for more than just a visit. We both had been holding out to see who would crack first. Guess that had been me. As I watched the first few bats swoop and dip around the roof of the lodge, loads of what ifs began to jostle around in my head. What if she looked different? Really different? What if she had aged? I mean, of course she must have aged, but I was not at all comfortable with that idea.
A light clicked on, illuminating one of the big windows of the lodge. I took a few steps closer.
A figure walked across the room.
There she was.
Her hair was a lighter shade of brown than mine but never could be thought of as mousy. There was too much of it for that. Tonight she had it parted down the middle with two barrettes on either side holding back the waves from her face. We shared the same color eyes, but hers were large and round, giving her the look of someone who was perpetually innocent and slightly startled.
I exhaled slowly in relief. She looked exactly as I had left her — a bewildered, misplaced flower child who had found the fountain of youth in veganism and yoga.
A sudden rustling in the hydrangeas snapped me out of my thoughts. A pair of glowing eyes flashed menacingly at me from beneath the heart-shaped leaves.
"Oh, you can't be serious," I muttered to no one.
An enormously fat, orange and white cat shuffled out from beneath the branches.
We stared at one another.
I broke first.
"How are you not dead?"
The cat hissed back at me then turned with the gravitational pull of a medium-sized planet and made his way toward the porch.
Caesar was the closest thing I had to a sibling ... a sibling I never wanted and would have happily drowned at birth given half a chance. I sighed. Years back I had added Caesar to the list of things I would not discuss with my mother. Also on that list were the quality of my bowel movements and the importance of the female orgasm.
The main door swung open.
"There you are!" My mother rushed through the threshold, arms flung wide.
I couldn't stop the smile from erupting on my face. "Are you talking to me or the cat?"
Excerpted from Skinny Dipping With Murder by Auralee Wallace. Copyright © 2016 Auralee Wallace. Excerpted by permission of St. Martin's Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Most Helpful Customer Reviews
Skinny Dipping with Murder by Auralee Wallace is An Otter Lake Mystery novel. Erica Bloom is returning home at her mother’s request. Her mother, Summer needs a favor to help save her business. Summer hosts retreats for women. The latest retreat is “Earth, Moon, and Stars” where women get in touch with a person’s inner goddess. Erica has not been home in eight years because she was the victim of a practical joke that left her feeling humiliated. The three “Fluffateers” were responsible for the prank. Tommy (leader and cousin to Grady Forrestor, local sheriff), Dickie, and Harry are the members of the group. Erica has barely unpacked her suitcase when Dickie Morrison is found dead. He is at the bottom of a well impaled on a weenie skewer (what a way to go). Sheriff Grady Forrestor immediately suspects Erica of killing Dickie. When Harry Drummond pops up dead, Erica is really in the hot seat. Erica needs to find the real killer before Grady locks her up (not that Erica would mind spending a little alone time with Grady). Who is killing off the fluffateers and why now? Looks like Erica will be sticking around Otter Lake a little longer than planned. I found Skinny Dipping with Murder to be a moronic book (just being truthful). It was just to over-the-top with nonsense to be enjoyable (at least for me). The mystery was so simple. I solved it right away (the killer was so obvious). The novel is easy to read and had a good pace (that is it for my compliments). I found Erica Bloom (the main character) to be infantile, and she had severe anger management issues. I also got tired of her admiring the local sheriff (his bulging biceps, handsome thighs, etc.). I do not believe I am the right audience for this book. I give Skinny Dipping with Murder 2 out of 5 stars. I received a complimentary copy of the novel in exchange for an honest evaluation. The comments and opinions expressed are strictly my own.
I think all of us have some high school trauma that we just never get over. Whether it's a small embarrassing moment, or something on a grander scale, high school is the time when we are at our most awkward and our emotions are at their most volatile. It can leave a last impression. Ant that's just where this book has it's plot roots, in a teenage prank that left her the laughing-stock of the town. Erica Bloom hasn't been back to Otter Lake since she left, nearly 8 years ago. She's only home because her mother's Island Retreat, is having some serious issues, and Erica was needed at home. But with the anniversary of the Raspberry Festival, the night of her most embarrassing moment, just days away, Erica would rather be anywhere else. And when one of the three pranksters ends up dead, everyone can't help wonder if Erica has come back with revenge in mind. There were many things to like about the book. The secondary characters were a charming mix of wack-a-doodle and corny. Starting with Erica's mom, and the two elderly women who live on the island with them, Kit Katt and Tweety, to Erica's best friend Freddie. Then there is Erica herself. She has tried so hard to reinvent herself, but it seems that nobody in her hometown wants to recognize those changes. In many ways, this is a book about going home and second chances, about seeing events through the eyes of an adult and realizing that maybe, things weren't as bad as you remember them. This is my first book by the author, though she was on my radar for another series she has, Sidekick in the City. Of course a superhero book is going to be on my radar. ;) This was a light-hearted read, that didn't mind poking a bit of fun at itself. Erica and Freddie bumble along, putting no faith in the local police force, and trying to solve it themselves. Needless to say, hi-jinx ensued. Overall, I really enjoyed this book and look forward to the next one, due out at the end of August. I gave this book 4 stars. St. Martin's Press provided me with this book in exchange for my honest opinion.
Title: Skinny Dipping With Murder - Otter Lake Mystery 1 Author: Auralee Wallace Published: 3-1-2016 Publisher: St Martin's Press Pages: 316 Genre: Mystery, Thrillers & Suspense Sub Genre: Women Sleuths; Cozy Mystery; Women's Fiction ISBN: 9781250077776 ASIN: B013P2QX6O Reviewer: DelAnne Reviewed For: NetGalley Rating: 4 1/2 Stars . Following a humiliating experience as a teenager at the Raspberry Social Erica Bloom left Otter Lake with no plans of ever returning. As much as Erica never wanted to step foot in Otter Lake and her mother's new age Spiritual Retreat, she knows when her mother asks her for help she cannot refuse. Now that she is back she becomes a prime suspect when those responsible for humiliation all those years ago begin turning up dead. Now Erica sets out to find the real killer with the help of a few of the sane and not so sane residents of Otter Lake. Can Erica Save her mother's retreat and stay one step ahead of a killer? Or will she be the next victim. Funny, with some surprisingly strong characters. I thought Erica's mother a bit flighty, but a woman that loved her daughter. I tried following the clues but became wrapped up in the story itself too much to care. I enjoyed getting to know the residents and town of what I hope will be a long running series. The plot s well planned out and moved at a fast pace. I enjoyed the humor and clean mystery of Skinny Dipping With Murder. My rating is 4 1/2 out of 5 stars.
This is a great book; this book is part of An Otter Lake Mystery series by Auralee Wallace. Erica Bloom grew up in Otter Lake, New Hampshire at her mother’s spiritual retreat. As a teenager she fell prey to a practical joke that left her near naked in Otter Lake’s annual Raspberry Social. She has had no plans to return to Otter Lake until mother asks for her help, how is losing her grip on the business. When the people who were behind her long ago prank start turning up dead since Erica’s return to town, she is the main suspect. So Erica and her old nemesis, the hottie Grady Forester team up to find out who the real killer is before someone else gets hurt. If you are looking for a great, bun mystery then you need to read this book. I can’t wait until the next book is out. A Review copy was provided to me in exchange for a fair and honest review. The free book held no determination on my personal review.
Skinny Dipping with Murder: An Otter Lake Mystery by Auralee Wallace was a laugh out loud fun cozy mystery. Erica Bloom is totally crazy and yet very likeable. She escaped Otter Lake after she was humiliated by 3 pranksters 8 years ago at the Raspberry Social and has never wanted to come back. Now she has returned to help her mother save the island retreat that her mother owns. The secondary characters, Freddie, Rhonda, Grady, Kit Kat, and Tweety, were absolutely great. They made this story from beginning to end. My personal favorite was Rhonda who I want to meet and get to know better because her good cop/bad cop routine made me laugh out loud more than once. A fast paced plot with lots of action, humor, excellent character development and a lot of personal growth for Erica as she and Freddie try to solve the murder. I will definitely be looking for the next book in this series. I received an ARC from St. Martin Press via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.