Excerpt 1
At three in the morning, with her cursor blinking on an empty page, Tammy Rumbelow stumbled upon an online listing in rural Michigan. For the First time in months, a flicker of hope sparked.

The realtor’s photos of the little blue cottage with its front porch and white picket fence, had set her heart alight. The interior was as enchanting as the exterior, featuring an antique writing desk where inspiration could strike.

On a whim—or perhaps out of desperation—she’d picked up the phone and bought it based on the pictures alone. She had never even visited the state before. Had fate handed her a lifeline, or had she made the biggest mistake of her life?

Now, six weeks later, Tammy’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel; nerves and fanfare clashed in her stomach. This was it—her fresh start. But a familiar undercurrent of doubt threatened to bubble to the surface. She turned off the highway. The country roads, flanked by dense forests of oak, maple, and pine, marked the last stretch of her six-day drive from Los Angeles to Willowcroft.

She rolled down the window. The crisp breeze tousled long, wavy strands of brown hair over her face. Tammy inhaled, savoring the clean air. It reminded her of childhood summers—when life was untangled.

As the miles stretched behind her, the hum of the tires a constant companion, fragments of her former life in LA surfaced. Tammy’s chest constricted at the memory of her best manuscript—a boundary-pushing idea. But she’d never seen it in print, at least not under her name. Instead, her rushed, uninspired replacement made it to the shelves, the one cobbled together in the aftermath, her creativity fractured and trust shattered.

The book reviews rang in her head. “No emotional depth.” “Lacked soul.” Tammy winc ed, acknowledging their bitter truth. But the one that stung the deepest: “She’s not just over forty, she’s over, full stop.” They don’t know the real story behind those pages.

“You can never do anything right,” her mother’s sneer boomed, reopening old wounds. It had taken years to quiet the nagging doubts from her childhood, but the betrayal let those words flood back stronger than ever. The steering wheel grew slick under her clammy palms.

A road sign came into view, providing a diversion. “Welcome to Willowcroft. Township Population 999. Greater Willowcroft Population 5,124.”

Will I tip the scales to an even thousand? Any distraction helped. Was two thousand miles far enough away to break free?

 

Excerpt 2
Her sandals clicked against the sidewalk as she ambled toward the square. The morning sun caught the store’s striped awnings—crisp white paired with cherry red, ocean blue, and tangerine orange—creating a carnival-like canopy.

It was like walking into a Hallmark Christmas movie, minus the snow. Unlike LA’s steel and glass, the century-old brick buildings wore their age like a badge of honor, their weathered cornices telling stories of decades past. A shopkeeper chatted with a mailman, both seemingly content to let time flow at its own pace.

Remnants of streamers and deflated balloons hung around the lampposts. Had she just missed a town event like a pie contest or a harvest festival? The kind of small-town events that filled cozy mysteries—the genre she was considering for revitalizing her writing career. Thriller mysteries were too stressful right now.

The town hall clock chimed the quarter hour. Two women paused their conversation to check the time—not by pulling out their smartphones, but by glancing up at the tower itself, just as generations before them must have done. In LA, she moved fast, always ready for a meeting or deadline. Here even the pigeons’ struts were slower across the cobblestones, unworried about being shooed away.

Spices and buttery pastry curled through the air, drawing a growl from her stomach. She followed the scent to the Sweet Crumbs bakery, its sunny yellow-and-white awning glowing beside the cool green-and-white stripes of the bookstore next door.

Inside, a round, jolly woman greeted Tammy.

“Good morning, lovely!” the woman said as her rosy cheeks dimpled. “I’m Mrs. Applewood. Welcome to our blissful bakery!”

Tammy returned the infectious energy with a cheesy grin.

“How are you settling in at the little blue cottage?” the woman asked.

“How did you know?”

“We’ve been expecting you. I helped make the sign on your door. I do hope it was still there when you arrived.”

“Yes, it was, and such a thoughtful touch. Thank you.” Tammy extended her hand across the counter. “I’m Tammy Rumbelow.”

Mrs. Applewood waved it off and came around. “That won’t do, my lovely. You’re one of us now.”

Before Tammy could react, two arms encircled her. Her body tensed, old defenses snapping into place. But as the seconds ticked by, something in the hug felt different—no hidden agenda, no expectations. Like the damaged plants in her garden, Tammy’s barriers needed tending. Did healing start by accepting help? She leaned in, her rigid posture softening despite the alarms blaring in her mind.

Tammy blinked back tears.

“There now. You’ve been officially welcomed to town.” Mrs. Applewood released Tammy and returned behind the counter as if the experience was an everyday occurrence. “That cottage has been empty for too long.”

Tammy took a deep breath.

“Now, what can I get for you this fine morning? The cinnamon rolls are straight out of the oven.”

Was this how people treated each other here? In LA, people rushed by, eyes glued to their phones. Trust and real relationships were rare commodities. But Mrs. Applewood seemed genuine. An unfamiliar emotion, yes, but that was the point of her second chance—learning to recognize authenticity when it appeared.

 

Excerpt 3
Tammy burst into the bookstore, the bell above the door clattering. Lockie darted in behind her, almost tripping her in his haste. She caught sight of Olivia and Mrs. Temperance huddled by the counter, their conversation dying midsentence. She ignored their startled expressions as she thrust the envelope forward.

“You won’t believe what I found in the attic!”

“Tammy, dear, what is it?” asked Mrs. Temperance.

For a moment, she hesitated, her fingers inching toward her pocket. Were they trustworthy? What if they dismissed her or—worse—used her story as gossip? Olivia’s kind expression nudged her resolve. My first test. And I’m going to ace it. She passed it over.

Olivia opened the envelope and read it aloud. She looked at Tammy with wide eyes.

“How extraordinary.” She handed it to Mrs. Temperance, who scrutinized it, lips pursed.

“Well, I never…” She met Tammy’s gaze. “This raises some troubling questions.”

“Right.” Tammy slumped against the counter. “It’s so mysterious. It threatened someone living in my cottage. We have to find out who they were and why they did it.”

Mrs. Temperance ran her fingers along the letter’s edges. “This is quite intriguing. Willowcroft has its fair share of secrets, but this…” She paused, tapping her chin. “I can’t imagine what it refers to.”

“Then we must investigate!” said Olivia. “If something sinister happened here in the past, we need to uncover it. This is our next mystery to solve, Mrs. Temperance!”

“It certainly is.”

Tammy’s heart skipped for joy at the prospect of joining forces to unravel the mystery. “What do you mean by your next mystery?”

Olivia glanced at the older woman with a big grin. “We solved a mystery last week. Willowcroft’s Great Bear Caper! We had three bear visits, including one on Mrs. Temperance’s porch and one that broke through my store’s window.”

Tammy gasped. “Are we safe in town? I didn’t factor bears into my plan.”

“Don’t worry, dear,” Mrs. Temperance reassured her. “In all my seventy-plus years, we’ve never had bear trouble—until last week. But black bears are harmless.”

Phew. “How did you solve the mystery?”

“Well,” said Olivia, “Mrs. Temperance, with her knowledge of honey terroir, traced the honey back to the Bradley Berry Farm store. I caught Nick Bradley on my CCTV and he confessed to luring the bears with honey and berries.” She pulled a newspaper from under the counter. “You can read about it here.”

Tammy looked at the front-page headline: “The Great Willowcroft Bear Caper” and the paper’s date. “This happened just before I arrived!”

“Yes. And it sparked our desire to solve more mysteries,” Mrs. Temperance said, turning to Olivia, who nodded in agreement.

“Wow. I thought my week was adventurous with a night at a haunted hotel,” Tammy said. “But bears? You win.”

Olivia’s eyes lit up. “Haunted hotel? Oh, do tell!”

“I will, but not right now. All I can think about is this letter…and now bears.” She grimaced.