"Ellie finally confronts him about his tactics."
I'm paraphrasing, but somewhere around hour three, this line dropped and I actually laughed out loud. Not because it was funny—because I was shelving returns in the mystery section at work, surrounded by approximately forty cozy mysteries with nearly identical premises, and here I was listening to another one. The self-awareness hit different.
Look. I'm a horror person. My podcast is literally called "The Witching Hour." But sometimes you need a palate cleanser between sessions of psychological dread, and cozy mysteries are my guilty pleasure. They're the audiobook equivalent of comfort food—predictable, warm, occasionally too sweet. Death by Chocolate Marshmallow Pie knows exactly what it is, and that's both its strength and its limitation.
Eastport Without the Accent (A Crime in Itself?)
Sarah Graves lives in Eastport, Maine. She writes about Eastport, Maine. The series is practically a love letter to this tiny island village. So why—WHY—does Susan Boyce's narration sound like it could be set anywhere from Connecticut to California?
This bothered me more than it probably should. Boyce is technically competent. Her enunciation is crisp, she channels Jake's anxious moments with genuine tension (particularly during a scene where Jake's dangling from rope ladders that had my heart rate up despite knowing she'd obviously survive), and she gives the main characters enough distinction that you won't lose track of who's speaking. But "enough distinction" is doing heavy lifting there. By hour five, I was occasionally rewinding to figure out which woman was talking.
The thing is—and I hate saying this because Boyce clearly has skill—cozy mysteries live and die by their sense of place. The Chocolate Moose bakery, the arts festival, the fog rolling in off the water. These details paint Eastport as a character. But without that Down East accent grounding everything, the setting feels like a postcard instead of a place you've visited.
When the Plot Thickens (Then Immediately Thins)
Here's where my horror-trained brain kept getting frustrated. The setup is genuinely solid: rival bakery owner found dead, murder weapon belongs to your best friend, clock is ticking. Classic locked-room-adjacent tension. Great Train Robbery plays with similar high-stakes setup energy, though Crichton takes it in a completely different direction. There's even a scene involving a classic Fiat 124 Sport Spider speeding through thick fog that gave me actual chills—Susan Boyce's pacing there was genuinely excellent.
But then the investigation meanders. Jake and Ellie chase leads that go nowhere. Subplots pile up like dishes in my apartment sink (Shirley knocked over my coffee during one of these tangents, which felt like editorial commentary). The editing needed a firmer hand. Some sections drag when they should sprint, and by the time we're staring down the barrel of a gun in the climax, I'd half-forgotten why we were there.
This isn't a dealbreaker for cozy mystery fans—the genre has always prioritized vibes over velocity. But if you're coming from thrillers expecting tight plotting, adjust expectations accordingly. State of Terror delivers that thriller pacing if you need it—though honestly, it's missing the marshmallow pie.
The Marshmallow Pie of It All
Okay, the food descriptions. I need to talk about the food descriptions.
Graves clearly loves baking, and it shows. The titular marshmallow chocolate pie scene made me genuinely hungry at 10 PM on a Tuesday. The recipes threaded throughout aren't just set dressing—they're practically characters. If you're the type who listens to audiobooks while cooking (guilty), this is dangerous territory. I made brownies at midnight. No regrets.
Boyce handles these passages with appropriate reverence. Her voice warms when describing chocolate, softens around pastry techniques. It's a small thing, but it matters. She understands that in cozy mysteries, the domestic details ARE the horror—the threat to normal life, to the bakery, to the friendship between Jake and Ellie.
Who Should Listen (And Who Should Skip)
If you're deep into the Death by Chocolate series, you already know whether this is for you. Susan Boyce has been narrating these for a while, and her style is consistent—which means if you've loved previous entries, you'll be comfortable here. If the lack of regional accent has bothered you before, it's not suddenly fixed.
New to the series? You can absolutely start here, but fair warning: the character dynamics assume some familiarity. I occasionally felt like I'd walked into a conversation already in progress. Not confusing enough to ruin the experience, just... slightly outside the circle.
Skip if: You need airtight plotting, you're accent-sensitive about New England settings, or you're looking for genuine menace in your mysteries.
Lean in if: You want comfort, you love small-town bakery vibes, you're okay with predictable resolutions, or you need something for a long drive that won't demand your complete attention.
Filed Under: Comfort, With Conditions
I finished this at 2 AM, which is usually reserved for horror that's keeping me awake. Instead, I was just... cozy. Slightly frustrated by the pacing, wishing for a Maine accent that never came, but ultimately satisfied in that specific way only comfort reads provide.
Death by Chocolate Marshmallow Pie isn't going to make my podcast. It's not trying to. It's a warm blanket of a mystery, best consumed during long drives or while doing mindless tasks. Susan Boyce delivers competent narration that won't blow you away but won't distract you either.
Sometimes that's exactly what you need. Shirley (the cat, not Jackson) was unimpressed. I was content. That's enough.
