I was sliding through the library on my way to the last scheduling committee meeting, and this book just fell off the shelf at my feet. I had to pick it up and take it home; it would have been rude to leave Murder Likes It Hot by Tracy Weber just lying there on the floor, right?
Basic Summary (Courtesy of Amazon):
Newly married yoga instructor Kate Davidson feels stuck in low-energy limbo, despite her high-energy life. She’s trying to conceive a child, keep her studio afloat now that the ultra-cheap Some Like It Hot Yoga studio has opened across the street, and start a yoga program at a local resource center for homeless youth.
When a center employee is found dead, Kate sets aside her fertility and financial woes to delve into the world of teenage homelessness. While digging for clues with her German shepherd Bella, Kate discovers that family can be formed by bonds stronger than shared DNA, and she must defend it at all costs.
Despite the slightly racy title, this book is feel good yoga and cozy mystery all the way. Let me just say I have to give kudos to Weber for weaving in the yoga and dog rescue work like they’re finely attuned spices in a good meal, rather than slathering it on like butter on cheap toast. I feel like the lines about yoga and animal rescue work are there to tell more about the main character, Kate, rather than pad the book.
I have this vague idea I read one of the series before and didn’t much like it. But I will say if that was the case, Weber has really hit her stride. This is book 6 in the series and I liked it enough, I will be back tracking to read the rest.
I live in the Seattle area, more or less, and the way she touched on the political issues surrounding homelessness locally was exceptionally well done.
The victim of the murder was unexpected. The bad guy was not so surprising once the actual murder occurred. I had a whole other extremely common plot line in mind as I was reading. But Weber didn’t go that way, all to the good. And extremely rare in a cozy mystery, she made me cry at the end.
I won’t even mention that she called an automatic, a revolver at one point. Except I just did. Well, no one is perfect.