Stuff Your Kindle Cozy Mystery Novels & Stories

The manuscript for The Compost Murders of Cedar Cove sat on the publisher's desk, a physical manifestation of Arthur's nervous hope. He'd gone from furtively scribbling in a moleskine to checking his email every fifteen minutes, a transformation I found both endearing and deeply amusing. "Maybe they hate it," he announced one morning, staring morosely at his uneaten toast. "Maybe 'quirky cozy' is out. Maybe gritty Nordic noir is in. I should have set it in a fjord. With a depressed detective and a lot of rain."

Something I never do but didn’t know why I remembered now out of all days. When I was done I sat on the bed and waited for him to get back with the snacks. So instead of doing nothing as I wait, I opened a Solitaire game he downloaded and started playing. I picked an easy level first before increasing the level, when I was going to pick hard my door burst open with this boy and a basket of snacks and drinks. “I want to ask where you got that basket from, it does look familiar,” I said adjust in on the bed to give him some space.

Detective Sean turned to him, giving him his full attention. “What is it?” “I think you need to have this..” Taking detective Sean’s hands and dropped something in it. “I probably belongs to whoever was held here.” Detective Sean open his palm and saw a small pink teddy bears with the letter M inscribed on it. “Could it be a girl right?” “It could be” Detective Sean looked down at his hands again. Staring down at the tiny bear. And without a second thought he hurried out of the basement.... ******* “You don’t deserve to be here in the first place. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Everything outside felt sealed away distant, unreachable, wrapped in white silence. We sat by the fire, the orange glow dancing across the rough wooden walls and casting long, flickering shadows that moved like slow dancers. The stone fireplace radiated a deep, steady warmth that soaked into my bones after the sharp cold of the day. I had curled up in the old armchair with a dusty paperback mystery from the 1970s I’d found on the shelf—yellowed pages, cracked spine, the kind of story where everything got solved by the final chapter. The words were comforting in their simplicity, a world where clues led somewhere clean and certain.

I did my best to take care not to scratch the leather, but when it fell into my arms, I noticed what looked like a fresh dig. Books were not as common in that era as they were in the future so I felt bad about causing damage to it. My lamenting lasted only briefly. An intense curiosity took over just as soon as I realized that it was a journal. It was not just any journal, either. This journal belonged to the late Elsbeth Sleuth. Could the deep, dark family secret be discovered within its pages? I simply had to find out. Lowering myself into a comfy nearby chair, I opened to the first page and focused on the elaborate handwriting. It took some time to familiarize myself with her dramat

I replied, shaking his hand briefly before pulling it back, a tingle left in its place. “So, Kalia, what’s so captivating in that book of yours that you almost missed the best coffee in town?” He nodded toward my cup. I tilted my head, considering him. “You are assuming I don’t already know that this place has the best coffee.” He raised an eyebrow. “Fair enough. But now I’m curious about the book.” I held it up, the cover facing him. “It’s a mystery novel. Keeps me on my toes.” He leaned in slightly, intrigued. “A mystery, huh? So, you like solving puzzles?”

Then there were his psychology books and books on wilderness craft. His gaze fell on a small cluster of volumes of English literature, some that Faith had convinced him to try. While he couldn't bring himself to read them, he hadn't been able to part with them, either. The top shelf held an extensive collection of contemporary bestsellers, and it was one of those he chose, a mystery thriller, as he heard the first roll of thunder. "Yep, Bear, it seems like a 'dark and stormy night' kind of night." He gave the dog a pat as he settled down in his chair.

Tisha shook her head in mock pity. “Come on.” Annabelle said as she dragged her friend by the arm and entered the house, the rest following behind. “ It’s time for business.” The inside was well decorated. There were three couches ,a rug on the floor and a huge shelf full of books. There were a lot of doors that led to corridors. There was verandah that showed the view of a stream at the back of the house. “Make yourself at home.” Tisha said and they all sat down at a couch.

“No, fantasy or mystery. Or whatever you’ve got, I guess.” “Mmm, Fantasy. You’re going to be featuring in a few of mine,” Stumpy grinned. He took my plate and finished my food, then washed it up and put my silverware and the plate back in their respective stacks. “Come this way,” he said afterward. I followed Stumpy back to his tent but refused to go inside, which made Stumpy laugh. He came out with three battered books - one fantasy, one mystery, and, indeed, one romance. “I’m the local library,” he explained.

We say our goodbyes and I toss my phone onto the couch next to me, looking around the room. It's quiet when Santos has the kids. Almost too quiet. And there's nothing to do. I've deep cleaned the entire apartment from top to bottom. I've done four loads of laundry and put it all away. I even threw dinner in the crockpot already, so my regular chores are done. I tap my fingers on my leg and the Kindle shoved between couch cushions catches my eye. Ooh. I could read for a bit. What is the name of that author I like? The one who writes about all those bearded brothers? Penelope Reads? Penny Reads? Penny Reid! That's it!