As a cozy mystery author, I often write about humorous anecdotes, especially when my main characters travel. Unfortunately, traveling during the pandemic has been far from comical. I’ll tell you a bit about my experiences both good and bad. Plus, you can tell me about yours.
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On March 13, 2020 or close to Friday the 13th, my state was officially shut down. We weren’t sure what it meant, but my sisters and I were afraid even to travel to my mother’s house that we were cleaning out and getting ready to sell. After six months of going nowhere and selling my mother’s home, we hit the road via car and headed north.

​Driving somewhere seemed easy since we were headed to South Dakota to look at the bison and gather up some rose quartz. Not too many people at our desired stops and even fewer people on the road. Mask ordinances varied everywhere we went, but we had ours ready. Merchants and employees were happy to see us. Our road trip would get a A-/B+. There were a few spots of absolute standstills usually caused by an RV on the narrow roads. Needles Highway isn't great for RVs.

eBefore traveling went south in a hurry. Cruising used to be our desired travel mode, not too surprising our middle-aged sleuths loved it, too.  The Star Trek Cruise, which we were on, was one of the last to tour the Western Caribbean before the ports closed in March 2020. We like everyone else thought this would blow over and booked a birthday and anniversary cruise in May 2021. Even went so far to spring for a suite since you’re only sixty once. That cruise was cancelled. Even though cruising is technically back, we have our doubts. We book a cruise, then, it gets cancelled and we never get our money back. I wrote letters, sent emails, talked to their chat bot, spent at least sixty hours on various calls to make our replacement cruise happen. It was just cancelled, which means I have to start again. Just the thought wearies me. Word of warning to cruisers: put down only the deposit until you find out for sure if your ship will sail. Cruise Vacations get a D- from me. I might go for an F, but I’m still holding out for my cruise credit. Anyone who knows a troubleshooter for cruise patrons, please drop their info in the comment section.

 Maybe not feeling confident, but desiring to see my son in Texas, we chose to fly. We went with an airline known for down home friendliness and lining up people like cattle to board. Our first surprise in our air adventure was a cancelled flight and not one we were notified about. Myself and about a hundred other unhappy fliers demanded to know what happened, but the airline employees were tight lipped on the subject. Most demanded their money back and were told to go home and apply online. Spoiler alert: they’ll get credit, not money. I asked about other flights and was told they had no way of knowing if other airlines flew to my destination. One did. It left an hour later, but I didn’t know that. Instead, I was rerouted adding an additional ten hours onto my already seven hours of flight time. We were in the airport or in the air from seven in the morning until eleven that night. Technically, the flight takes five hours. 

Our not-so friendly flight stewards huddled near the front of the plane while warning us not wearing a mask was a felony and bringing on our own alcohol was forbidden. Various incidents of out-of-control fliers explained their hesitancy to interact. I imagine the disgruntled customers that had to be rerouted didn’t inspire interaction, either. That particular flight experience would earn a C mainly because we were never informed about the cancellation by email, text, app, or call. We had no way of knowing we needed not to rush to the airport. We could have spent our extra five hours at home.

​Once in El Paso, Texas, we met up with our son and his girlfriend and had a super time. A big shout out to the people of Las Cruces, New Mexico, Terlingua, Texas and Marfa. You guys rock. A special shout out to Enterprise who exchanged our wonky rental for a four-wheel drive without a hassle. Make sure to use Far Flung Adventures, too. Texas road trip was A+.

Back to the airport, but this time I used an airline where I choose my own seat this went much better. The flight attendants acted more relaxed, but that may have been due to all the empty seats surrounding me. A half-filled flight has to be an easier one. The shining moment of the flight was the Detroit airport. Long layover, of which I’m not a fan—except this time.
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Detroit is a huge airport that goes on forever or so it seems. It gave me a chance to get my steps in. I also treated myself to a reasonably priced steak dinner at Lone Star. Then I discovered they had a gentleman playing show tunes on a baby grand in the food court. I located a cup of Earl Grey and a cookie to accompany the music. One downloaded podcast later, I was ready to board the plane where I was once again surrounded by empty seats because I used my airline app to check out and modify the seating if needed.  B+ on the experience because the airline made the big layover by moving my first flight to three hours earlier.

The same airline kept changing the times on an upcoming flight to see our other children that  carved a three-day visit a into a day and a half. When I tried to return the flight back to the original schedule, they demanded another $350. A news agency had reported about this bait and switch practice, but this was my first experience. Not a fan.
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In conclusion, if you can drive; do so. There is still the allure of the open road and plenty of country to explore. As for my traveling adventures, one or two might show up in the next book.

The Part-time Sleuth
 
Meet Donna Tollhouse Tabor, the opinionated, former nurse who runs and owns The Painted Lady Inn in Legacy, North Carolina. When she isn’t baking apple crumb cake for her guests, she likes to help solve murders in the charming, coastal village. Let’s drop in for a cup of her special coffee and a sweet treat.

Donna stands at the porch in a ruffled pinafore apron and waves us in. “Come in, I’d love some company. All my guests have already left and I have time for a short chat.”

“Great.”

Inside the inn there is a curving staircase and a long hallway with doors on both sides. Donna opens the door to the kitchen, releasing the mingled smells of fresh ground coffee, cinnamon, and chocolate. “Let’s eat in the kitchen like friends as opposed to in the dining room as my guests do. There’s warm chocolate chip macadamia cookies that just came out of the oven. Grab a seat and I’ll get you some coffee and cookies.”

After grabbing a seat, it’s time for the interview—I mean chat. “I’ve heard so much about your delicious cooking and your sleuthing skills. Isn’t running an inn enough work without solving crimes?”

Donna laughs, and then smirks. “Sure, it is—most of the time. I do have family and an assistant that help with the inn. Summer is my busiest time. All the same, I’ve lived in this town my entire life, which means when someone is murdered, it’s personal.

“I get that. How do you pick up clues the police miss?’

Her eyes roll upward and she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m not going to say they miss the clues. The police tend to go with the traditional suspects. You know, disgruntled employee, embittered spouse, or will beneficiaries are the first go-to folks.  I try to go into the situation with an open mind. A person that believes the husband is guilty will look for circumstantial evidence to confirm this and miss the tiniest clues. Any killer will try to erase clues. No matter how great the murderer thinks he or she is, there is always a mistake.”

“That’s interesting. Is that how you catch the culprit?”

“It’s usually a beginning, but not necessarily enough to pin the crime on someone.”
 
“Do you have any help on these cases?”

Donna presses her hand to her chest. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t.  Some of my help isn’t the sleuthing type. Often my mother and sister-in-law will help with inn duties so I can nose around. On other days, my mother, who is a social butterfly, gathers pertinent gossip.” She grins widely, bringing out the crow’s feet. “Gossip is a great jumping-off point. While the end gossip might not be totally true, there had to be a reason for it. Sometimes, even figuring out the motivation why someone started the gossip matters and can help.”
 
The innkeeper and sometime sleuth picks up her coffee and takes a sip. “Then, there’s my assistant, Thelma, who has psychic ability. She’s offered a few helpful clues.”

“Wow. A psychic. Does she just tell you the name of the killer? That would certainly make it easy.”

Donna laughs so hard, her fingers grip the island, so she doesn’t fall off her stool. Finally, she stops, gasping for air and wipes away a tear. “No, is the short answer. Thelma usually gives you a cryptic word that doesn’t mean much except in retrospect. Like eleven.”

“Eleven?”

“See—not so easy. It takes a great deal of work to unravel random words along with criminals’ motivations. Consider I’m not only hunting down would-be felons but also not looking like I’m doing so.” She glances up at her cat kitchen clock that rolled its eyes and wagged its tail in rhythm. “Hate to say I’m running out of time but I’ve got some sleuthing to do.”

​“Please, don’t let me keep you. Any adventures coming up you’d like to tell us before you go?”
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Donna holds up her index finger and says, “You’ll have to read about it in Two Many Sleuths.”
 
 

​ Truffle Me Not Ex 1
      
      Donning rubber gloves, Della tackled the dirty dishes, indulging in an impromptu trip down memory lane. Even though it was more than a decade ago, every now and then, the memories of not quite fitting in no matter what she did came back. Her school broke down into cliques with the predominant ones being jocks, popular kids, and the hipsters, plus everyone else that didn’t merit a label. As for the jocks, their name said it all while the popular kids were a little harder to define. Sure, it was easy to know who they were, but what made them popular was difficult to pinpoint. Most came from powerful, affluent families that usually had a member on the school board. This often translated into starring roles in the school play or being on the first string in athletics.
      Thanks to a cyber security assembly in middle school at which her father presented the other students knew her father as that cop. It resulted in Della getting the side-eye now and then, especially if other students happened to be talking about underage parties. Every party that was busted somehow got laid on Della’s doorstep. Never mind the fact her detective father didn’t take noise complaints associated with teen parties. They assumed she told. Not sure how they came to that conclusion, when she’d never been invited. Not once did the partiers ever consider that deafening music, the abundance of cars, and raucous behavior might have resulted in irate neighbors calling the police.
      Some kids might have let it go, but not Lacey. Just her name had Della gritting her teeth. Small town life had its share of mean girls who aged into entitled, mean women. Lacey had to be the queen of them all. For most, being beautiful, wealthy, and the topic of most conversations would be enough. Even with everyone treating the woman like royalty, Della could tolerate it if her royal meanness stayed far, far away.
      That was why a woman’s condescending tone reaching into the kitchen and might as well pinched Della. “Oh, how quaint!”
      Her head jerked up, and the pan slipped from her fingers. A shiver raced up her spine. No, it couldn’t be. Better check it to be sure. There had to more than one snotty female in town. Her athletic shoes allowed her to creep across the kitchen floor without making a sound. Whoever was out there would say something else, dispelling the possibility it was Lacey. Why would Lacey even visit her modest bakery?

Want to read more, visit the tour.

May 31:
1: Danita Minnis
2: FUONLYKNEW
3: Jazzy Book Reviews
4: Kit 'N Kabookle
5: Linda Nightingale - Musings
6: Novels Alive
7: Welcome to My World of Dreams
8: Cassidy's Bookshelves
9: Full Moon Dreaming

June 1:
1: Andi's Book Reviews review
2: Candrel's Crafts, Cooks, and Characters
3: Rogue's Angels
4: Fabulous and Brunette
5: Hope. Dreams. Life... Love
6: Inside the Insanity
7: Long and Short Reviews
8: Harlie's Books
9: Independent Authors

June 2:
1: Lisa Everyday Reads
2: Our Town Book Reviews review
3: Seven Troublesome Sisters
4: The Avid Reader
5: Notes From a Romantic's Heart
6: It's Raining Books

June 3:
1: Stormy Nights Reviewing & Bloggin'
2: The Book Connection
3: The Faerie Review
4: Travel the Ages
5: Westveil Publishing
6: Natural Bri
7: Tina Donahue Books - Heat with Heart
8: Wendi Zwaduk - Romance to Make Your Heart Race

June 4:
1: All the Ups and Downs
2: Beyond Romance
3: Gina Rae Mitchell review
4: Girl with Pen
5: Iron Canuck Reviews & More
6: Joanne Guidoccio
7: Literary Gold review
8: Sandra's Book Club review
9: Wake Up Your Wild Side
10: Straight From the Library


Truffle Me Not is available on Amazon only.

​Q:  When or where do you do your best writing?
 
When I’m the groove, I’m a powerhouse writer. I like to get to my writing studio with that first cup of coffee and hit the keyboard running.
 
Q:  Where do you get your plot ideas?
 
I love weird murder Google alerts and eavesdropping for plot ideas that fit my game and husband-killer theme. I have a very active imagination and play a lot of what if.
 
Q:  What’s one unusual thing about yourself that most readers don’t know? 
 
I suffer from Misophonia. I once broke up with a very cute boyfriend because he bit his fork while eating. Alas, my love is fork deep.
 
Q:  Describe a character from your book(s) that you are most like.
 
All four women characters in the Cardboard Cottage Mystery series have some of my quirks and wabi-sabi, but Amy’s superstitious beliefs are 100% mine.
 
Q:  Where is your favorite place to people watch?
 
I like to people watch in airports. I once heard a woman on the phone ask if the maid found the gun she forgot under the mattress. What?!
 
Q:  What’s one thing that happens in your book(s) you wish could happen in real life?
 
I can change the world and everything in it with a few keystrokes. If only we could right our wrongs as easily in real life.
 
Q: What’s a question no one ever asks but you wish they did?
 
What is the most satisfying part of writing a book? Typing THE END


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​Della always dreamed of owning a bakery and catering service. But the fate of her dream come true rests on how well her business, Cupid’s Catering Company, pulls off the wedding of the decade.

As she and her team work their magic in the kitchen, the lavish affair takes a troubling turn. The bridegroom has vanished, but in a strange twist of events, she’s the only one who’s concerned about his disappearance.

As rumors that the groom-to-be caught a case of cold feet and whisperings about his ties to unsavory characters swirling, Della trades in her chef’s hat for a sleuth fedora and follows the clues.

Can she find the bridegroom, save her bakery, and fend off her mother’s matchmaking attempts before it’s too late?

Christmases Remembered
 
This time of year causes people to be nostalgic about the Christmases past. It made me think about which Christmases stood out in my mind more than the others. My mother used to hide our presents in the attic and the access to it was from my parents’ bedroom closet. Even if we knew where the presents were, there’d be no sneaking a peek. As folks just barely getting by, there weren’t too many presents to wrap and my mother saved that duty for when we were asleep the night before the big day. It was no easy feat getting kids asleep on Christmas Eve.

Once we were soundly asleep, we heard a ruckus that involved falling plaster and a multitude of cursing. Not tiny hooves on the rooftop, but we still sprang from our beds to see what was the matter, only to glimpse my dad’s jean-covered legs waving madly as they hung from our living room ceiling. My mother garbed in a ratty robe that had seen better days shooed us to our room, threatening us with the possibility Santa wouldn’t visit if we weren’t in bed.

Holidays ushered in seldom-seen relatives. My paternal grandmother would arrive like a tornado touching down, much to my mother’s consternation. She came unannounced and unlike a twister, came bearing gifts. While the gifts might not be the popular toy of the year, she had a sixth sense about what each child wanted. One year she gave me a black and white panda I slept with for years. Another year she gave me a birthstone ring against my mother’s wishes who insisted I was too young for real jewelry. Along with my grandmother, my dad’s side of the family would show up with six-packs of beer, buckets of chicken, and high spirits. One uncle played the piano while we ran through all the Christmas songs we knew. My mother fluttered in the background, biting her lip, hoping the new arrivals would leave before somehow infecting us with their sinful ways.

I always loved these unexpected visits because the relatives brought fun with them through jokes, laughter, and playing charades. These were not people who attended the Church of No, the name I gave our conservative church, since they focused on everything we couldn’t do. Daddy’s siblings didn’t see why kids couldn’t stay up late especially on Christmas Eve, eat too much candy, or watch television. In my mind’s eye, I can see my mother bristling. As a child, I didn’t understand how their arrival put a strain on my mother’s orderly plans and modest meals. What I did observe was my father enjoying their infrequent visits.

The Christmas I remembered best was when my father had just hired on as a welder at Jeff Boat. A fall at work caused him to break his arm and miss work when a strike happened. Despite being part of the union, he was on sick leave when they chose to strike and was denied strike pay. This was the death knell for our Christmas. Living on a farm provided us with staples such as chicken, eggs, milk, and everything my mother had canned in the summer. My mother tried to prepare us telling us Santa might not be able to bring us much this year. I’m not sure if this made much of an impression because everyone knew Santa was magical.

Our old dolls vanished and my mother became very interested in creating tiny doll clothes she insisted were for my cousin’s doll. My father took advantage of scrap lumber and hammered together tiny doll cradles and dollhouses when he wasn’t helping neighbors who repaid my father with livestock feed, dog food, and occasionally, venison. The dog food came in handy because we had four large Germans Shepherds, the result of my mother’s attempt to get into the dog breeding business without success.

That Christmas Eve we could stay up late and watch It’s A Wonderful Life and munch on an oversized box of cheap chocolates a neighbor passed on. Could be my parents knew this was the most they could offer us. We trooped off to bed sleepy, but hopeful that Santa would come through for us. 

I remember standing at the window and peering outside at the moonlit snow hoping to spot in the distance a sleigh and reindeer without luck. Eventually cold drove us under the covers dreaming of what might be. Sometime later, a cacophony of dogs barking mingled with a woman’s shriek had us kids sprintng to the window only to see a car reversing down our driveway chaperoned by German Shepherds, who raced them back to the road.

​My father ran outside barefoot, clutching his rifle. From our second-floor window, we watched him pick up a stocking out of the snow. Mother joined him and carried in wrapped packages that had been abandoned in the driveway when the dogs came charging out of the barn. Without saying a word, the three of us knew not to mention what we had seen.
The next day we were pleasantly surprised with stockings and gifts. Even my mother and father received a gift and the dogs got a large can of dog bones. For years, we never knew who our generous visitors were and in some ways, that served us. Anyone we met, from neighbors to church members, could be our secret givers. Believing anyone was capable of this kindness made my world a better place.