The Oncoming Storm Series Book #1
By- Jay Mims
Genre- Mystery, Detective, Cozy
Then he finds Santa stuffed behind a dumpster. One Santa leads to another, and before he knows it, Dan’s up to his sugar plums in murder, intrigue and holiday cheer. It’s up to Dan to save Christmas, find the Kringle Killer and choose the perfect gift for the quirky blonde in his life.
The Cult of Koo Kway
The Oncoming Storm Series Book #2
By- Jay Mims
Genre- Mystery, Detective, Cozy
When Dan Landis wakes up handcuffed and threatened by a colander wielding high-heeled beauty, he knows it’s Tuesday. And when a hapless blonde is in danger of being mugged, his best friend shows up poisoned in his kitchen, and his sister wants him to track down a cowboy named Tex, Dan knows he’s in trouble.
Dan and his faithful sidekick Abbey return for this new mystery, as college professors keep disappearing, students end up poisoned, and someone keeps trying to kill Dan. And all signs point to an obscure film called The Cult of Koo Kway. As the clock ticks, Abbey and Dan must work together to save the day.
Dan Landis had a simple plan. Drive to a quaint bed and breakfast, spend New Year’s with his best friend Doc, and enjoy a much-needed vacation. Except, he didn’t account for everyone’s favorite klutzy genius Abbey.
Now there’s a body in the library, snow all around, and a mansion full of suspects. Dan must call on his best detective skills, and his worst Hercule Poirot impersonation, to solve this latest mystery. However, the awful truth looms overhead everyone, whatever the answer, nothing will ever be the same.
Racing the Storm
The Oncoming Storm Series Book #4
By- Jay Mims
Genre- Mystery, Adventure, Detective, Cozy
Dan is on the run, his home is in flames, and the bad guys have murder on their minds. The skies reddened in The Five Santas, the clouds began to darken in Cult of Koo Kway, and the thunder rumbled in The Gray Ghost Inn. At last, the storm is here. And everything is about to change.
From The Cult of Koo Kway
Waking up, Dan Landis realized two things: he was handcuffed and his head hurt. He hated headaches. And someone was cooking. It smelled like stir fry. Stir fry and handcuffs meant one person. He opened his eyes, turning his head toward the smell. The plastic wrapped couch squeaked beneath him.
“You’re not Bernie,” he told the woman. She was sitting in a white chair; it looked like something you’d sit in at an outdoor wedding. Or a fancy café. She looked upset. Dan couldn’t blame her. After all, she was his client.
“Who’s Bernie?” she wrung her hands, her perfectly tanned skin turning white. The white contrasted against the hot red of her nails. The color matched her dress.
“A friend,” Dan said, letting the cool plastic resting against his cheek sooth his skin.
“Your boyfriend?” the woman looked over her shoulder. There was a big digital clock hanging over the massive TV. Dan checked the time. It was a bit too early in the morning for stir fry.
“No,” Dan tried to hide the fact that his hands were reaching for his wallet. He kept a handcuff key there, just in case. Except his wallet was gone. He’d left it in the car. Because of course he had. “Bernie’s a girl. She’s not my girlfriend. She’s…it’s complicated.”
“Oh,” the woman exhaled; her voice a cocktail of relief and frustration. Dan squirmed, moving his legs around, trying to gracefully slip off the couch. The carpet felt good against his socked feet. Which made him realize something important.
“Where are my shoes?”
“By the door.”
“Right.” He remembered now. She’d made him take off his shoes. His black socks blended nicely with the maroon carpet. Pushing against the couch with his legs, leaning forward, Dan let momentum get him vertical. He breathed deep, stretching his chest out, and exhaled rolling his head from side to side. The movement made the pounding in his head worse.
“You wouldn’t happen to have a key to these cuffs, would you?” Dan asked, aiming for nonchalant. His hands were tingling, he could feel his temper rising, and his wrists itched. Exploring with one finger, he felt fuzzy soft felt. Fuzzy handcuffs. Bet they’re pink, he thought.
“It’s in the kitchen,” the woman said, refusing to look him in the eyes. Her voice was choked, light glinting off the tracks of tears running down her face. She stared at her feet, still wringing her hands. He noted she was twisting her wedding band. The whole thing was starting to get to him. He sat back down.
“Lena,” Dan said, kicking himself for letting her affect him this way. Stupid. It was always the tears. They were his kryptonite. “You didn’t have to handcuff me.”
“You offered to make me breakfast in bed,” she said, still not looking at him.
“I can take no for an answer. I’m a gentleman.”
That earned him a sly look. Brown eyes stared at him, bloodshot and tear filled. For the briefest second, the ghost of a smile haunted her face.
“I’m a married woman,” she choked.
“Yes you are. A beautiful married woman,” he said. Just my type, he didn’t add. “And if you’ll bring me the key, I’ll just be on my merry way.”
“I’m making breakfast.”
“I can tell. Stir fry?”
“Yes. I have a new non-stick pan, thought I’d make a stir fry.”
“Non-stick you say?”
“In my hand. Not sure how it got there. It’s a bit blurry.”
“Really? Because the last thing I remember, before everything went black, is seeing a pan speeding toward my head.”
She stood. Dan flinched inside. Turning on her heel, she headed for the kitchen. He briefly wondered how she got him from the kitchen to this couch. Lena was stronger than she looked.
“Dinner for two,” she said, to whom was unclear. He couldn’t believe it was for him. It was time to leave. Lena disappeared around the corner, and began rattling drawers in the kitchen. Hopefully she was looking for the handcuff key. Except you wouldn’t keep the key in the kitchen. Dan was very good at telling when people were lying. She’s going for a knife isn’t she, he thought.
Yep, the little voice inside his head said.
So I should be going, he realized. Probably. No sense hanging around, waiting for the attractive brunette in the red dress to come back wielding a knife. And heels, he added to himself, hearing the tell tale click as Lena walked back and forth in the kitchen. Probably matching red heels. Though, he did briefly wonder why he had to take off his shoes when she was allowed to roam around in heels.
Actually, between the heels and the cuffs, Dan was starting to gain a new appreciation for Lena.
You’re weird, his little voice said with a smile.
He assessed his options for escape. There was the front door. But that led past the kitchen, and probably would lead to awkward questions. Since this was a third floor apartment, a back door was probably out of the question. A breeze tickled his neck, and he looked over his shoulder. The window was open, white curtains billowing. There was the silhouette of a fire escape. It had been a long time since he’d gone out the window. That had involved an angry wife too.
Jay Mims, better known as Mimsey, lives two miles past nowhere with The Mimsus. He also accidentally adopted his neighbor’s cat, Eartha Kitty, has a lizard named Bob hiding in his house, and has a passive-aggressive Dalek roommate named Steve. When not writing cozy mysteries, Jay teaches and is learning knitting. Jay is currently working on knitting a cape. Capes are cool.
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