Look, if I find a body at a New Year's party, I'm not investigating. I'm checking for a pulse, starting compressions, and yelling at someone to call 911 while ruining my outfit. That's the nurse in me. But in Toast to Murder, Mack Dalton finds a cold body on the basement stairs and decides to play detective instead.
(And honestly? I kind of respect the audacity. At least she doesn't have to deal with the paperwork I would.)
I listened to this on my drive home from a particularly brutal shift at the trauma center. We had three codes before midnight. My brain was fried. I needed something that wasn't going to spike my cortisol levels, and Allyson K. Abbott delivered—mostly.
The Voice in My Passenger Seat
I hadn't listened to Nicole Poole before. Usually, I'm skeptical of narrators doing a whole cast of barflies—it can get cartoonish real fast. But she actually nailed it.
She does this thing with the accents where they feel distinct without being caricatures. You know who's talking without needing the "he said, she said" tags. It kept me awake on the I-10, which is saying something because I was running on four hours of sleep and a stale donut. Her pacing is deliberate. Calm. It felt like listening to a friend gossip, rather than a performance.
When the Pulse Drops Too Low
Here's the thing though—and maybe it's just the night shift adrenaline crashing—but this book is slow.
Like, bradycardic slow.
There were moments in the middle where I found myself yelling at the dashboard, "Get to the point!" The tension dips. It's supposed to be a murder mystery, but the urgency just... wasn't there for long stretches. If you're looking for a thriller that feels like a jagged line on an EKG, this isn't it. Pieces of Her gave me that spike I was craving—kept my heart rate up the whole drive. Toast to Murder is more of a steady, flat hum.
I actually zoned out for a few minutes near the halfway mark, missed a plot point, and realized it didn't even matter. Caught up pretty much immediately.
Why It Still Works for Decompression
But you know what? I didn't turn it off.
Because sometimes, after twelve hours of high-stakes chaos where people's lives are actually on the line, I don't need a book that stresses me out. I need Mack Dalton running her bar and solving crimes at a leisurely pace. It's cozy. It's safe.
The characters are solid—Mack is likable enough, even if her "special talents" (synesthesia, basically) felt a little gimmicky at times. Ice Princess had that same cozy mystery vibe without the gimmicks—just solid detective work. But the vibe? The vibe is right for a post-shift drive when you just want to hear a story getting solved without the gore and the trauma.
My mom would love this. She's always telling me I need to relax more. She'd say, "See Maria? A nice lady solving crimes. Very sensible." (She still wishes I was a doctor, but she'd approve of Mack.)
Who's This For?
If you need something low-stakes after a high-stakes day—cozy mystery fans, night shift workers, anyone whose job involves too much adrenaline—this is your book. Skip it if you want pulse-pounding tension or can't handle a slow middle stretch.
Clocking Out
Is it going to change your life? No. But did it get me home without falling asleep at the wheel? Yes. And the narration was smooth enough to keep me company while the rest of Phoenix was sleeping.
