Welcome my sweet and cozy world. The only steamy thing in here is the coffee.
Me: Honey, can we get a penguin?
Husband: Becky, what the hell? I mean, it would be cool, but we don’t exactly have the environment for it. Is someone on one of those Facebook groups looking for pet fosters for penguins or something?
I’m not sure if he was relieved or disappointed when I told him it was a hypothetical question inspired by my next book. Maybe he was a little of both. (It was totally both.)
Pip the penguin has been such a joy to write. I can’t wait for you to meet him!
But first, let’s set the stage, shall we? Here’s the very first look at FROZEN WITH A YETI, the fourth book in the Ho-Ho-Homicide series…
The thing about solving murders at the North Pole is that eventually people stop treating you like the elf who accidentally hot-glued her own scarf to a wooden rocking horse and start treating you like you know what you’re doing. This is unfortunate for everyone involved.
Especially me.
I was currently sitting at my workstation, trying to remember whether I’d already rinsed my paintbrush or had only thought about rinsing my paintbrush. ADHD makes memory feel less like a web browser and more like a wind chime of constant background noise. Everything’s technically still in one of the many open tabs, but good luck finding which open one is playing the music.
All around me, the toy workshop buzzed with its usual organized Christmas chaos. It might be summer now, but that didn’t mean we elves took off for the season. Providing enough gifts for Santa to deliver to good children around the globe was a year-round job.
The air smelled like fresh sawdust and peppermint varnish. Somewhere across the room, an elf was loudly arguing that the tyrannosaurus rex probably would have celebrated Christmas if they’d only survived long enough. A different elf debated that even if they had survived, their toy selection would be limited due to their tiny dinosaur arms.
Personally, I thought the bigger question was whether dinosaurs could be trusted around breakable ornaments. And would their nativity scenes have standard humans or would they be dinosaur versions?
Deciding that my brush was clean, or at least clean enough, I dipped it into green paint and added another decorative swirl to the plaque balanced on my desk. Tiny silver stars framed the edges, and in the middle, Proud of You, Antler Friend. Every time I looked at it, my chest did this weird achy thing I preferred not to examine too closely. The empty space beside my chair wasn’t helping.
Normally Figgy would have been sprawled next to my workstation, napping while I painted toys. I’d recently graduated from trains to toy soldiers, and Figgy had zero cares about how much I obsessed about getting their painted expressions just right.
Instead, he was away at Sleigh Corps summer training camp learning advanced rooftop landings and, according to the most recent update letter, showing strong leadership potential despite one unfortunate sled-related incident. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but Figgy was in that clumsy age between adolescence and adulthood. Clarification wasn’t necessary.
“Juniper Hollybright?”
The unfamiliar voice startled me badly enough that I nearly knocked over an entire jar of green paint. I caught it against my apron at the last second, which unfortunately only succeeded in smearing emerald streaks across the front of my sweater, which wasn’t even in a color that matched. Nothing implied that I was a competent professional investigator quite like looking like I’d lost a fight with a Christmas wreath.
An elf from the Administrative Wing stood beside my workstation holding a silver envelope embossed with the Claus family seal. She handed me the envelope with the careful expression of someone transferring custody of a glitter bomb.
My stomach dropped so fast it practically needed a sled. I took the envelope and stared at it.
The administration elf left without another word.
I stared at the envelope in growing horror. Using the wooden end of a thin paintbrush as a letter opener, I tore open the top edge of the envelope. I pulled a stiff card containing a single line of text.
Mrs. Claus requests your presence immediately.
That was it. No comforting details beside the scent of cinnamon cocoa. I made my way toward the Administrative Wing, passing rows of noisy workshops and bustling wrapping stations where elves worked with terrifying levels of efficiency. Miniature toy trains rattled along decorative ceiling tracks overhead, puffing pine-scented steam into the warm air. Without Figgy trotting beside me, everything felt slightly off balance.
A beloved benefactor lies frozen, and everyone at the South Pole has something to hide...
Perfect for fans of cozy mysteries, found family, and observant animal sidekicks who see the world exactly as it is. Frozen with a Yeti delivers shocking character revelations, the magic of unexpected friendships, and a detective duo who prove that sometimes the most dangerous secrets hide behind the kindest smiles.
Frozen with a Yeti is Book 4 in the Ho-Ho-Homicide Cozy Mysteries series. No graphic violence. Maximum penguin charm and South Pole intrigue.
The Serial Knitters series is now available in paperback, and every chapter features this picture of Rumple. Thank you to everyone who has shown enthusiasm for these books. They were so much fun to write! I hope you’ll add them to your bookshelf.
That's all for now. I hope your day is filled with books and coffee (or whatever you’ve got in your favorite mug).
Happy reading,
Becky
Cozy mysteries with caffeine, chaos, and charm.
Romantic stories with heart, hope, and absolutely zero heat.
The only thing steamy in here is the coffee.
www.beckymuth.com
P.S. Every ❤️ you click helps other people find my books. Leave a comment so I know you were here. I read every single one. Thanks for being here!
Paranormal cozy mysteries are similar to traditional mysteries, except they have enchanting elements such as talking cats and witchy sleuths.
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