Feta and the Fat Bastard is the third book in the Whine and Cheese Cozy Mystery Series by Judy Volhart. Here is an exclusive excerpt from the book:

I huffed and I puffed then stumbled and fell backward onto my behind, jarring my tailbone and blinking rapidly to clear the stars that filled my eyes. I lay on the ground and fought the overwhelming urge to cry, so reminiscent of the first day that I had moved here, roughly five months earlier.

Through bleary eyes, I looked up at the crystal blue sky. The month of May in Ottawa can be absolutely stunning, and I soon snapped out of my mood as the spring sun warmed and caressed my skin, gently soothing my spirit. I closed my eyes for a moment, enjoying the late spring heat.

I was still in this graceless position, however, when I noticed two sets of beady eyes staring down at me. Hark, the Aliens!

Oh, you know by now that they’re not really aliens. I just affectionately call my parents that because they’re so…so…non-North American. They’re stuck in 1960s Hungary and haven’t evolved with the times very much. The only reason they even own a microwave is because I recently bought them one, but my father refuses to use it due to safety concerns, like radiation.

“Alszol?” my mom jokingly asked, gently prodding me with a foot.

“No, I’m not sleeping. I fell when I was bringing out the Oleander plant and got winded. I’m okay now.” I stood up and brushed myself off, screeching when I found a weird electric blue bug clinging to my cinnamon – colored hair and slapping myself silly in my insane attempt to dislodge it.

Ah yes, cinnamon. It used to be a delicious caramel color, but I recently discovered a number of silver hairs on my still thirty-year-old head, no doubt as a result of some very stressful months of late. Feeling adventurous, I had intended to stray just ever so slightly from my normal box of color. I had purchased one that promised me light, golden caramel hair, but in my case, it turned cinnamon. After a couple of days, though, I had decided that I rather liked the reddish tinge and had gotten many compliments on it. In truth, I was also too lazy to change it.

My name is Amalia Kis. Welcome to my bistro, the Whine and Cheese. The bistro part is on the main floor of the building I own while my living quarters are above. I moved here five months earlier and luckily business was going well, otherwise I’d be out of both a job and a home and I would likely have to move back in with the Aliens, who conveniently (for them) now lived just a couple of minutes away from me.

I do love them, but in all honesty, I loved them more when they lived over two hours away in Montreal, rather than just two minutes away. Too close for my comfort.

My parents helped me finish moving the large Oleander into position and then helped me bring the second one out. Soon, both plants were on either side of the front entrance to the bistro, giving it a homey feeling. I imagined them stretching their limbs luxuriously in the sunshine after being cooped up inside my office all winter, and thanking me in their silent plant way.

I also had just enough room for three patio chairs on the small front porch where my parents and I proceeded to sit with three glasses and a bottle of wine.

Since I abhor pretentiousness, the bistro sells only wines with quirky names and this one was no exception. We each took a long sip from our glass of Project Happiness. The big yellow happy face on the bottle made me smile and the taste of the fruity Syrah wine with hints of black cherry, blackberries and spices enveloping my tongue made me relish being alive.

Only one thing could make it better. I leaned forward and snagged a thin sliver of spicy Hungarian salami off the platter on the little glass table between us and munched in contentment. Although I like many salamis sliced thick, this one is best sliced paper thin due to its heat.

“So, what brings you by?” I finally asked my parents.

“We were hoping that you and Mutt could come over one day and help us with the pool. Some of the pool fence came loose during the winter and the liner has slipped a little too.” They still pronounced Matt’s name as Mutt, and I couldn’t help but giggle as the wine hit my almost-empty belly then bee-lined straight to my head.

“Sure, I’ll ask Mutt if he’s free anytime soon and give you a call later this week.” Matt has been my boyfriend for the past four months and still makes the little hairs on my toes curl. I had been single for about two years before meeting him, and with his Keith Urban looks, he kept my libido longing for more. After having been in a six-year relationship with Hans, who loved only his money and himself, and then single for two years, my libido deserved a little attention, thank you very much.

As if sensing my thoughts, Hans pulled his car into my lot and drove nearly up to the front door. I bared my teeth and hissed as he got out of the car and strode toward us.

Over six feet tall, Hans tossed his perfectly coiffed blond hair and greeted my parents as though they were long lost friends. Jaws agape, they looked at me in surprise. I quickly told them in Hungarian that he periodically came by to torment me.

My father glared openly at him while my mother mumbled a cool but polite hello. It was so garbled that I couldn’t tell in which language she had responded.

“How are you doing, Mr. and Mrs. Kis? I haven’t seen you in so long. What a wonderful surprise!” Hans purred with fake politeness and threw his arms open wide, expecting hugs. My dad wasn’t having any of it since he never particularly thought highly of him in the first place, nor was my father one to hold his tongue.

“Vat you doing here, veasle? Go avay, ve having notting to saying to you. Go!” My dad exclaimed in his broken English while making shooing motions as he shot out of his chair. After a speechless moment, Hans huffed and turned on his heel. Before getting back into his car, he threw a smirk my way then slammed his door and peeled out of the lot, sending bits of gravel flying and my temper flaring.

I had come to the conclusion that his mission in life was to boil my blood. Our relaxed mood spoiled, my parents left soon after and I went in to start preparing the food as it was almost opening time for the bistro.

Nicole and one of my new helpers, Beth, arrived at the same time. They came in through the heavy, steel back door, walked through my office and into the kitchen area where I was elbow deep in chopped veggies for the salads that we were serving, now that winter was finally over and everyone was craving greens.

Personally, I wasn’t much of a salad fan, although today’s special was an exception. Mixed greens with strawberries, toasted slivered almonds, fresh chives that had already sprouted in my small, eclectic garden, a homemade raspberry-garlic vinaigrette and the pièce de resistance, a lovely, creamy, low sodium feta cheese. I sneaked a piece of it and popped it into my mouth, letting it sit on my tongue a moment before chomping into its saltiness.

The daily hot dish, taco-style chicken, was simmering on the stove in a giant pot and the staples of my bistro, the cheeses and salamis, were pre-sliced and ready for quick platter preparation.

Related: Read an interview with Whine & Cheese Cozy Mystery Series Author Judy Volhart