I’ll start by saying that I never meant to end up running a bookshop well into my seventies. I was supposed to be retired, thank you very much. Feet up, telly on, maybe a cheeky whisky if the weather called for it (and it usually does). Instead, I’m the glue holding Beachside Books together. Which is ironic, really, because most days I’m trying to stop the ceiling from falling in and the accounts from falling apart.

Mornings begin early, because the dog—Bracken, my grandson Ryan’s enormous mountain of fur and muscle—has zero respect for a lie-in. Ryan promises me they’ll move out soon, and they’d better, although between me and you it isn’t terrible having him home. Anyway, Bracken barrels through the shop like a toddler with a sugar high, shaking sand onto my freshly mopped floor and sniffing every shelf like she’s got a secret side hustle with Customs.

Then comes the ritual of the diffuser. Lavender, naturally. I’m not having the place smell like mildew and wet dog, even if the tourists claim it’s ‘atmospheric’. I set the crossword puzzle out near the till—partly for me, partly for anyone daft enough to think they’ll beat me to it. Spoiler: they won’t.

By ten, we’re open. The bell over the door jangles like it’s got indigestion, and in stroll the usual suspects. Retired locals pretending they don’t already own the book they’re buying. Visitors asking if we stock TikTok recommendations (we don’t – I don’t believe in TikTok). And once, memorably, a man from Essex looking for “anything by that Shakespeare bloke.”

I try to be polite. Really, I do. But if you ask whether our “second-hand books are new,” you’ll get what’s coming to you. Words are my business, after all.

At midday, I make tea. Proper Yorkshire tea, not that herbal nonsense. If Ryan’s about, I’ll make him one too—milk first, like I taught him. Or even better, I’ll get him to make the brew for us both.

Afternoons are for snooping—I mean, community engagement. The Poker Widows group chat is a lifeline for village gossip. You’d be amazed what people confess when they think you’re not listening (tip: always listen). A missing crate of festival bunting? Gareth’s to blame. A mysterious boat on the beach? I knew about it before the coastguard did. And if someone’s whispering about funding anomalies or fishy business donations, well… let’s just say I keep a notepad and I know how to use it.

Around four, I restock the shelves. My knees protest, my back grumbles, and the ladder wobbles like a drunk giraffe. But I soldier on. It’s amazing what a woman can do when she’s too stubborn to ask for help.

Evenings are a mixed bag. Some nights it’s a Poker Widows meeting (cash only, no whining, and absolutely no men). Other times, it’s a village event I’ve somehow been “volunteered” for. Recently, that meant standing ankle-deep in sea fret with a thermos of whisky-laced tea and a front-row seat to a murder. But that’s another story.

Finally, I climb the stairs to my flat above the shop, feed myself something resembling dinner, and catch the last ten minutes of The Traitors. Unless Harlow’s forgotten the spare key again. Or Ryan’s found another dead body.

Honestly, I should be drawing a pension and growing dahlias. Instead, I’m juggling dodgy donation schemes, missing marine biologists, and my grandson’s troubled past.

And you know what?

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

A Whale of a Crime – A Yorkshire Coast Mystery, Book 1
Genre: Cozy Mystery
Release: April 2025
Format: Digital, Print
Purchase Link

After ten years away, Ryan Kennedy never planned on returning to Flamborough—the tiny Yorkshire village he once called home. But when his fiercely independent gran, Iris, needs him, he finds himself back behind the counter at her chaotic seaside bookshop, wrestling with jammed tills, nosy villagers, and the memories he’s spent years trying to forget.

What Ryan doesn’t expect is to be swept straight into the heart of a murder investigation.

When a mysterious boat appears on the beach and a body turns up at the exclusive Whale Watch Weekend picnic, all eyes turn to the cliffs—and to the secrets the village has been keeping. As Ryan and Iris dig into the tangled history of the victim, long-buried truths begin to surface, not just about the case… but about the night Ryan’s own husband died.

With the tide cutting them off, a killer on the loose, and a very observant dog named Bracken by their side, Ryan and Iris must work fast—because in Flamborough, the past doesn’t stay buried, and the sea has a habit of washing everything to shore.

For fans of twisty village whodunits, seaside charm, and heartfelt mysteries with a slow-burning emotional pull, A Whale of a Crime is the unforgettable first instalment in a brand-new series.

About the author
Mona Marple writes charming cozy mysteries filled with quirky characters, twisty whodunits, and settings you’ll wish you could visit—especially if you love a bit of seasonal sparkle. Best known for her beloved Candy Cane Hollow series, Mona creates worlds where murder meets mistletoe and sleuthing pairs perfectly with a cup of tea. When she’s not writing, Mona can be found walking her Labradoodle, Coco, plotting her next murder (on the page, of course), or hosting reader parties in her cozy online community.