When your cheating husband drops dead in your cozy Christmas cat café, the proper response is not to shout, “I didn’t do it!” Showing up at his funeral with a plate of sympathy cupcakes after he’s just been poisoned by your signature Santa’s Surprise confection is… also not the correct response. To be fair, if your husband walked into your café unannounced after stealing your hard-earned money and moving his pregnant mistress into your home, most people would understand if you bashed him over the head with a frying pan. However, I would never defile eggnog cream filling with cyanide! Too bad. He had it coming. Now the whole town thinks I did it. Including the hot lawyer who’s visiting next door. And by next door, I mean visiting his great-aunt, who lives across from Gran in the retirement home where I had to move because my husband evicted me from my own goddamn house. Yeah, I definitely have a motive for offing the cheating bastard. Thankfully, Marius has been volun-told to take my case. When he scowls, I remind him, “’Tis the season of giving… and Marius is giving annoyance and disbelief.” For someone who is working for free as my lawyer after being guilt-tripped by his elderly relative, he lacks customer-service skills, and there are an awful lot of questions and commands like “Are you sure you didn’t kill him?” and “Do not lie to your lawyer, so help me God…” I don’t care what Mr. Tall Dark and Obnoxious thinks. I need my café to stay open and my name cleared. I’m done with men. My twenty cats and I are going to spend Christmas Eve sharing a roast turkey and binge-watching Hallmark movies. Okay, I may have a problem. Especially after kissing the guy who thinks I’m a murderous cat lady…