Terror in Taffeta (Destination Wedding Mysteries)
Cozy Mystery
1st in Series
Setting – San Miguel de Allende – Mexico
Publisher ‏ : ‎ Chicks on the Case Press
Publication date ‏ : ‎ March 24, 2026
Print length ‏ : ‎ 278 pages
Paperback

Synopsis

Wedding planner Kelsey McKenna is just a few hours away from wrapping up her latest job when one of the bridesmaids upstages the couple by collapsing into a floral arrangement. Kelsey soon discovers that the girl hasn’t just fainted—she’s dead. When the bride’s sister is arrested for murder, the demanding mother of the bride insists that Kelsey fix the matter at once. And although Kelsey is pretty sure investigating a murder isn’t in her contract, crossing the well-connected Mrs. Abernathy could be a career-killer. Before she can leave Mexico and get back to planning weddings, Kelsey must deal with stubborn detectives, a rekindled romance, and late-night death threats in this smart, funny cozy mystery debut.

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Guest Post

The Predictive Ability of House Plants

On March 24, I’m celebrating the re-release of my debut novel, Terror in Taffeta. Back when it first came out, I told the story about an orchid that was both a metaphor for my journey to publication and what I called the Magical Blossoming Oracle. Several years on, the metaphor is still alive and well.

Okay, hear me out.

Right after I completed my manuscript, I attended my first ever mystery writing conference in the hopes of learning everything I possibly could about getting a book published. While I was there, I bought an orchid at a farmer’s market just outside my hotel.

That orchid lasted for months. It had several stems full of tightly packed buds that were all potential for the future. It reminded me of my experiences at Left Coast Crime and everything that was ahead of me.

It was still going strong when I found my agent a month or so later, and even a few weeks later when we started sending the manuscript out to different publishers.

As I started getting rejections back, a few of the blossoms started to drop, but I wasn’t worried. The orchid wasn’t in any hurry to give up, and neither was I. Then a few more flowers fell. And a few more rejections came in.

At some point, I jokingly told my husband, “Maybe I’ll sell my book right when the last flower drops.” There were still enough flowers left that it seemed reasonable, and my husband agreed that seemed like a solid plan.

Soon after, the orchid had dropped all but one blossom, which was wilted and looked like it would fall if you exhaled anywhere within a three-foot radius. This is the point at which you would normally throw the orchid out or give it to someone who’s good at making them re-bloom. But I was committed.

One night, we went to dinner at our favorite Chinese restaurant, and I got the following fortune:

“You will soon be the center of attention. Look for good news.”

And yes, I basically considered it a promise from the universe that I was going to get a book deal, probably the next day.

So when we got home, we were sitting on the couch, and I heard the softest little plop from the corner of the living room. The last blossom had fallen. My husband’s eyebrows shot up and he said, “It fell!” And then we both just giggled nervously as if to say, “Gosh, believing in the predictive ability of houseplants sure is silly!”

The next morning, my agent called.

She’d sold my book.

So the Magical Blossoming Oracle became a legend amongst my friends and family. But one of the supporting players that I’ve never talked about before was a small plant that was tucked into the soil almost like an afterthought, a garnish to the main course.

After my first few years of being a published author, I accidentally took a few years off from writing. First, I moved back to Texas. Then came a global pandemic. Then came the cancer diagnosis.

In the meantime, the little plant that came with my orchid lived a low-key life in a small pot. At some point I finished treatment. I started writing again, and I replanted the plant in a bigger pot.

That plant is a survivor. It grew and put out new leaves without any fanfare whatsoever. It’s over a foot tall now and thriving. More mature, less flowery, but more deeply rooted.

So while the orchid might have been the perfect metaphor for my early career, my potted plant represents something much more quiet and dependable. It’s the steady work, the showing up even when there isn’t any particular sign from the universe that today is the day.

What does it all mean? I think it means that you don’t always get a sign from the universe, but if you put in the work, the magic will happen anyway.

About the Author

MARLA COOPER is the author of the Kelsey McKenna Destination Wedding Mysteries. As a freelance writer, Marla has written all sorts of things, from advertising copy to travel guidebooks to the occasional haiku, and it was while ghostwriting a guide to destination weddings that she found inspiration for her series. She currently lives in Austin, Texas, with her husband and a few too many cats. She is the Vice President of Sisters in Crime, Heart of Texas chapter.

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