Self-made espresso bar owner Maggy Thorsen would rather be whipping up steam with her sexy sheriff boyfriend than organizing a barista competition. But the big Java Ho convention, the coffee industry’s seasonal trade show, has come to Milwaukee. And this year it’s not only insane, it’s murder…when Maggy finds the body of Marvin LaRoche, proprietor of the HotWired coffee chain, under a banquet table.

LaRoche was powerful, mean and nasty–or maybe he just drank too much of his own coffee. Either way, somebody bludgeoned him with Maggy’s first-place barista trophy. Hoping to clear her name, Maggy watches the man’s too-cheerful widow and an angry activist accusing LaRoche of exploiting Third World coffee growers. With a killer to catch and coffee to brew, Maggy is working overtime to save her own beans.

Apparently this is part of a larger series. So…go out and get them!

And yes, I actually bought it and read it. More choices quotes:

The baby was in a sling-type carrier, seemingly fashioned from one of the burlap bags used to ship coffee beans.
Janalee came towards us with a smile. ‘Maggy, Sarah. How good to see you. And yes, it is a coffee bag, Maggy. One of the 154-pound bags from Colombia. Little Davy just loves it.

…

Each work area had an identical espresso machine, grinder and blender, plus staples like a knock box for the grounds, trash can and the mini-refrigerator, of course. Everything else had to be provided by the participants, from mood music for their fifteen-minute presentation, right down to the espresso itself.

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Maybe it was the rock music, a contrast to the jazz–smooth and otherwise–chosen by the other contestants. Or maybe it was here piercings, or her hair color, or her explosive specialty drink, complete with a depth charge in the bottom of the cup.

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The lucky [raffle] winner would get to take home the centerpiece, which was a fancy basket filled with five separate one-pound bags of coffee beans from various roasters. The roasters had donated the beans as a way of showing off their coffees to coffeehouse owners. If the owners were anything like me, thought, the last thing they wanted to see by now was another pound of coffee.