Lazy Daisy (Southern Fried Sass #3) - Julia Mills

Prologue

“I love ya’ and all, Daisy girl, but why in a Pixie-poppin’-puffer are we up and outta the house at three AM?” Taffy grumped.

“’Cause Rosie promised Benny she’d manage the bakery while he was off on his Sleuth’s Holiday Hunt…but…” Freddie shrugged and tilted her head to the side, her mismatched ponytails hanging askew like tassels off the end of bicycle handles.

“She’s livin’ it up with Mal on some island in the Caribbean,” grumped Taffy. “So, we have to pick up the slack.”

Zipping through the air, Fflur, my brilliant blue buddy, patted her sister’s shoulder and cooed, “There, there, Dearie. You know she’ll be back soon. She’s sent you a postcard every single day.”

“And in the meantime, you have us,” Kerrirose cheered.

“See,” I encouraged. “It’s all gonna be fine.” Riffling through my brain for something that would cheer up our forlorn Dragonette, I added, “How about we make your Grammie’s scones for the Special of the Day?”

Spinning in midair and flying backward, she clapped her little green paws and actually smiled for the first time since Rosie and Mal had headed off on their honeymoon. “Really? You would do that for me?”

Success!

“Oh, Darlin’, I sure would.” I winked. “Anything to chase those blues away.”

Opening the back door of Brulé's Bountiful Bakery with a flick of my fingers, I magicked on the lights and all three industrial size coffeemakers (Caffeine was the only way I was gonna get my motley crew revved up to fill three six-foot cases with tasty pastries and tempting treats for all of Hairy Wort and then some before seven AM.) as I walked through the door.

“Oh, my Goddess on goose feathers, this is the most beautiful kitchen I’ve ever seen,” Freddie, suddenly wide awake, pirouetted around the enormous space, tapping all the gleaming stainless-steel appliances with the tips of her sparkly, multi-colored fingernails, singing at the top of her lungs, “Heaven, I’m in heaven…”

One down, one to go. Sure, I had everyone outta bed before the booty-crack of dawn, but (1) I had to get a list as long as my arm and half my leg done, baked, and beautiful before the Daytime Drousies set in making me completely and totally useless to everybody, including myself. And (2) It was my mission to raise the spirits of our newly-acquainted half-sisters.

You see, Dru had requested that Kerrirose and Freddie be assigned Dragonettes, nearly a month ago and as of today – we'd had no word from what I affectionately referred to as the Sexy Scaled Selection Committee. Then, there was the fact that our half-brother was eaten by baby Grunches before we even got to say boo, and… dumping one more thing on the pile - Southern Fried Sass hadn't had a real mystery to solve since the girls had gotten into town. My sisters were bummed with a capital ‘B,' and that just would not do.

Clapping my hands and using my best bubbly, bouncy tone, I beamed, “Alright, lovely ladies, let’s get this spectacular show on the road. According to Rosie’s scribbled note, we can make anything we want as long as we whip up a triple batch of Grizzly-sized, super-sweet, honey buns for all the Bears not at the Brulé family shindig. Oh! And don’t forget, it’s all gotta look gorgeous in the case.”

I'm sure you're wondering why we didn't just magick up a wide variety of yummilicous baked beauties, fill the cases, and be done with it. I'd ask the same question if I were in your shoes. As a matter of fact, I did – several times. So, here it is…the scoop, or the only answer I got that made any sense at all.

When we use our mystical mumbo jumbo to zap sweet treats outta thin air, there's a weird little aftertaste – kinda bitey, a little salty, and darn-tootin' sure lingering in the back of the throat. It's not yucky bad, but most assuredly not good, it just is. Humans don't taste it, and some Shifters are immune, but Rosie was very adamant that Bears have a particularly picky palate and super sensitive sense of smell. They pick up on every single little difference from whatever they are used to. So, it was the old-fashioned, knead-till-my-arms-fall-off-but-taste-fantastic homemade way.

To be honest, I didn’t even know there were Bear Shifters in Hairy Wort. Guess I shoulda figured, but it just never occurred to me. Furry, lovable, growly bunches of cuteness in the swamp? Something about that didn’t fit. (Not to mention that all of my