Contrary to my previous life as a broke barista, my current situation does not involve alarm clocks or schedules. I, Mitzy Moon, share a swanky apartment with the ghost of my generous grandmother, and the only thing I have to do when I roll out of bed is feed the beast.

And by beast, I mean the spoiled caracal known as Pyewacket. He tolerates my existence in exchange for hearty portions of his favorite sugary children’s cereal.

The cupboard filled with his precious treat is located on the first floor of my inherited three-story bookshop. The loft outside the secret bookcase door to my apartment is filled with mind-blowingly rare tomes and more arcane knowledge than I could absorb in three lifetimes. No matter how many times I pad across the thick Persian carpets, the site of dust motes riding on sunbeams and the smell of ancient world’s always warms my heart.

Making my way down the wrought-iron spiral staircase and into the back room, I pour the aforementioned cereal, and immediately step back. No one messes with my fur baby when he’s eating.

Most days I take this opportunity to brew myself a crappy cup of java in my ancient coffee maker. However, on a day like today, I find the strength to shoehorn my ample backside into some skinny jeans, and throw on a T-shirt that says “Basic Birch” with a small stand of black and white trees pictured beneath the phrase.

The frosty weather in almost-Canada and the icy wind whipping across the great lake nestled in Pin Cherry’s harbor require I suit up before heading outdoors.

Coming from the state of Arizona, I had to learn a whole new set of winter wardrobe terminology. Instead of my usual high-tops, I shove my feet into shearling lined snow boots, cover my bone-white hair with a stocking cap, and zip my puffy jacket up to my chin. The last piece of frostbite avoidance gear is a pair of wool-lined leather mittens.

Now, and only now, is it safe for me to step outside my bookshop and walk down Main Street to my favorite diner.

As a former orphan, who only recently discovered she has a long-lost family, the touchstone of a regular place to eat is everything. So for five (or so) days a week, you’ll find me at Myrtle’s Diner, eating scrambled eggs with chorizo and a side of golden-brown home fries, while drooling over a steaming mug of black gold, and shaking a bottle of Tabasco onto by brekkie.

By this point in the day, if I haven’t stumbled over a case or a corpse, I’ll casually stroll into the Sheriff’s station and see if there’s anything of interest simmering on their back burner.

The search for a case isn’t the only thing that leads me there. I can never get enough glimpses of Sheriff Too-Hot-To-Handle. Once I fill my tank with information and visual imagery, I take my film-school dropout behind back to my place.

Then my day generally takes one of three paths: either I trip and fall over something inexplicable and offer my volunteer employee her daily dose of entertainment; I’m chided into an alchemy lesson by my mysterious mentor, or I’m swept into an invigorating wardrobe debate by the ghost of my fashion diva grandmother.

In case you haven’t guessed, Grams is not a huge fan of skinny jeans and snarky T-shirts. She stocked a massive closet with couture before she passed, and she’s always trying to fabricate reasons for me to slip into something more uncomfortable.

In all likelihood, an otherworldly tingle in my antique mood ring or a strange psychic message will send me on the hunt for clues. I may not have asked for the extrasensory gifts I received, but at least I’ve chosen to use my powers for good.

To be clear, I don’t always do the exact right thing. I definitely don’t always land on my feet, but I mostly have good intentions.

Thanks for dropping in, and if you want to know anything else about Pin Cherry Harbor or my amateur sleuthing antics, apparently there are a whole series of books about me!

Dangers and Empty Mangers, Mitzy Moon Mysteries #17
Genre: Cozy, Paranormal
Release: January 2022
Purchase Link

A frozen cheesemaker. A vandalized Nativity. Can our psychic sleuth serve up justice before she’s iced?

Mitzy Moon might be getting too comfortable. Her love life is satisfying, her family is supportive, and her extra senses are becoming more reliable. But, before she can bask in that glow, a suspicious death and a missing Messiah threaten to spoil the New Year. . .

Sniffing out the murderer of a local cheesemaker should be her guiding star, but there’s nothing as upsetting as a stolen baby Jesus. And with the trail growing smellier than a ripe Limburger, she’s desperate for help from her supernatural supporting cast. Unfortunately, with her powers now leading her in circles, she may have to make the ultimate sacrifice.

Can Mitzy peel the rind off the culprit before she’s prematurely aged?

Dangers and Empty Mangers is the seventeenth book in the hilarious paranormal cozy mystery series, Mitzy Moon Mysteries. If you like snarky heroines, supernatural misfits, and a dash of romance, then you’ll love Trixie Silvertale’s heartfelt whodunits.

Meet the author
Trixie Silvertale grew up reading an endless supply of Lilian Jackson Braun, Hardy Boys, and Nancy Drew novels. She loves the amateur sleuths in cozy mysteries and obsesses about all things paranormal. Those two passions unite in her Mitzy Moon Mysteries, and she’s thrilled to write them and share them with you.

Connect with Trixie on Facebook, Instagram, BookBub and Amazon Author page.

All comments are welcomed.