My contribution to Christmas Cookie Cozies introduces brand-new characters in a brand-new cozy mystery world.
The title is Christmas Cookie Catastrophe.
Here's the blurb:
Blurb:
Consuelo “Cookie” Alvarez is great at a lot of things, but baking isn’t one of them. When she inherits a bakery from her favorite aunt, she’s dead-set on closing the business so she can pursue her dream of becoming a citizen detective and true-crime blogger.
What she doesn’t expect is a letter from her late aunt asking her to take her place in the county-wide Christmas Cookie Bake-Off.
Now she has two weeks to perfect the super-secret award-winning recipe before the competition, but there are major obstacles in her way: she can’t bake, the recipe is missing, and her competitors are a who's who of shady characters with sticky fingers.
Can she fulfill Aunt Birdie’s wishes, or is this where the award-winning cookie crumbles?
Want to read an excerpt? Scroll down.
“That’s a first.”
The baritone voice startled me. I’d not heard or seen anyone on Main Street as I drove in from the motel near the municipal airport this morning. I found the empty streets an odd sight to see. It’d been a long time since I’d visited the area. Things had changed in the quaint town of about eight-hundred residents.
I understood that. So much in my life had changed in the last few weeks.
Plum Cove was always aflutter with activity in the weeks leading up to the holidays. If ever there was a town that loved Christmas, this was it. Residents went all out with decorations. They’d hold a town-wide celebration. Carolers sang. Men and several women dressed as Santa or Mrs. Claus. Christmas was their thing. They did it well.
I looked at my reflection in the splintered glass on the front door of the bakery. The source of the smooth voice stood behind me, staring at me. He didn’t look like a serial killer. Not that I had any actual knowledge of what one should look like. But this man, dressed in full police officer garb, had a kind face. I could get lost in his hazel eyes if the circumstances were different. Call me naïve or out of my gourd, but my instincts told me I could trust him.
I flashed a smile at his reflection. No harm in being friendly, right? If he was a serial killer, the forced smile may make him think twice about making me his next victim.
“Hi there, sir. I don’t understand what you mean. What’s first?” I asked as I turned on my heels to face him. I slid my hand into my coat pocket to pull out the pepper spray in case he proved me wrong. Even a person in mourning had a right to protect themselves from harm.
A kind face was pleasant, but it didn’t quiet the voice in the back of my head telling me to keep my distance. What if he had a vendetta against women with zero defensive combat skills?
I’d watched the Ted Bundy documentary on repeat as research for my new true-crime podcast. I knew the boy-next-door good looks could mask his nefarious intent.
I flashed another smile. Not too big. Not too small. Enough of one to prove I wasn’t rude. I was like Goldilocks, only not as cute. My return to my favorite place on Earth wasn’t going as planned. I’d already had to scramble to find a motel room. Visitors had converged from all over to celebrate the holidays. As if I wasn’t under enough stress, someone swiped my purse from my room. Speaking to a stranger on the street, I knew I was seconds away from having my face on the back of a milk carton.
The handsome officer’s eyes sparkled like dancing stars as he stared back at me. “Could you take your hand out of your pocket, please, miss?”
He spoke as if I’d done something wrong. The last I checked, putting my hands in my pocket wasn’t against the law. I could do what I wanted with either.
He knitted his brows together as he waited for me to do as he said.
“I’d rather not,” I said.
He gritted his teeth.
“It’s freezing out here. I’m not used to subzero temperatures.”
“Now, please.”
The firm tone worried me, but not enough for me to comply yet.
He sighed and pursed his lips.
I went through a mental checklist of our brief interaction. As I checked all the boxes of things not to do when confronted by a police officer, alarm bells in my head went berserk.
1. I’d paid no attention to my surroundings.
2. I didn’t follow an officer’s commands.
3. I fell for the all-American guy routine.
4. I let the situation get out of hand.
5. I let my emotions get the best of me.
In my defense, he’d appeared out of nowhere and sparked a conversation. He wore a uniform, and well-fitting uniforms turned me into a blathering blowhard.
“Do you have something to say?” he asked.
I pulled my gaze from his eyes and focused on the black uniform. I didn’t know if it was real and not. What if it was a costume designed to lure unsuspecting women? What if he was dangerous? I had to get away before things went south.
“Nope. Nothing.” I glanced over his shoulder, hoping to find a witness or anyone to speak up on my behalf. I knew many of the people who lived here. I’d met them when I’d visited my aunt over the years. One of them could vouch for me.
There were two vehicles on the road. Both drove at a snail’s pace in opposite directions.
“Okay, well… thanks for the chitchat. Have a good day, sir.” I stepped back. The sound of glass crushing startled me.
I froze in place as the shards crumbled to dust under my weight.
The officer smirked as his gaze floated to my oversized boots.
“As much as I enjoy talking to strangers on a cool, crisp December morning, I’ve had my fill for the day. Thank you for stopping by, officer, but I’m good. Merry Christmas.” For some inexplicable reason, I turned my back to him. My head may have wanted to stay safe, but my feet had other plans. I stared at his reflection in the glass, hoping he’d take my words as his cue to leave, but he didn’t.
He stared at me with one eyebrow arched. The vein on his temple pulsated. He pursed his lips.
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