Murder on the Books By T.C. LoTempio

Today, I’ve got a real treat for you: a guest post from none other than Charley James, the amateur sleuth from Murder on the Books by T.C. LoTempio!

Stick around after the post for a sneak peek excerpt from Murder on the Books and a chance to enter a fun raffle. Big thanks to Charley (and of course, T.C. LoTempio) for visiting!

Introducing Charley James!

Hello! My name is Charlotte James, but I prefer to be known as Charley. In another life I was C.J. Barrett, popular thriller writer but a severe bout of writers block caused me to make a change in my life!

Much to the consternation of my agent, Max, I left the bright lights of New York for the less shiny ones in my hometown of Austin, Pennsylvania. Settling into my new life, I reunited with my long-term friend and baker Zane who is about to open a charming double store front. But before Zane can open her café, her business partner Sheila unexpectedly departs town, bailing on her bookshop and leaving nothing but a note behind. So of course I stepped right in to take over the bookstore. Things were going well until I discovered that body in the basement…..

Of course, that necessitated another big change in my life. We couldn’t open for business until this mystery was solved! I threw myself right into it, much to the consternation of the lead detective on the case, Ian Grant. Also on the case is Detective Barbara Donaldson – or, as I knew her in high school, ‘Barbie’. I can tell she’s got her eye on Detective Grant-and I can’t blame her. He is one hunk of man! Right now the two of us are engaging in a bit of ‘cat and mouse’ so I’m not entirely sure where this is going – or if it’s even going anywhere. But I’m open to the possibility!

And speaking of ‘cat and mouse’ there’s another big change in my life –I now have a pet. I adopted a stray cat I named Poe (his full name is Edgar Allen Poe) or, rather, he adopted me. I have a feeling he and I are going to be fast friends!

Thankfully, the mystery surrounding Sheila was solved – but not until a couple of close calls! I won’t give anything away – you’ll have to read Murder on the Books to find out! What I will say though, is that I have a feeling that mystery isn’t out of my life – and hopefully, neither is Detective Grant!

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Murder on the Books (A Cozy Bookshop Mystery) by Toni LoTempio

About Murder on the Books

Murder on the Books (A Cozy Bookshop Mystery) Cozy Mystery 1st in Series Setting – Pennsylvania Publisher : Severn House Publication date : July 1, 2025 Hardcover Print length : 240 pages ISBN-10 : 1448315263 ISBN-13 : 978-1448315260 Digital ASIN : B0DTYF8XYF ISBN-13 : 978-1448315277

Newly retired mystery writer Charley James returns to her small hometown only to find herself amidst a real-life murder mystery in this first book in the brand new Cozy Bookshop mystery series by award-winning and national bestselling author T.C. LoTempio.

Thirty-year-old Charlotte James, better known to her mystery fans as C.J. Barrett, decides to take a break from writing her popular Steve Sheppard mystery series. Leaving New York City, she moves back to her hometown of Austin to wind down, recuperate, and maybe come up with some new ideas for her books.

Settling into her new life, Charley reunites with her long-term friend and baker Zane who is about to open a charming double store front. But while Zane is ready to open her café, her business partner Sheila unexpectedly departs town, bailing on her bookshop and leaving nothing but a note behind.

Charley is more than happy to take over, but when she finds Sheila’s body in a chest in the store’s basement, things take a dramatic turn. Now Charley has to juggle the opening of her bookshop, a stoic but attractive Philadelphia detective, and a stray cat, all while solving Sheila’s murder Sheppard-style before the killer can strike again!

Fans of Jenn McKinlay, Ellery Adams, Lucy Connelly, Lauren Elliott, and Ellie Alexander will love this cozy mystery “featuring a plucky, likable heroine, plenty of suspense [and] unexpected twists” (Booklist).

“I was hooked from start to finish!” Laura Childs, New York Times bestselling author of the Tea Shop mysteries, on Eat, Drink and Drop Dead

About Toni LoTempio

• T.C. LoTempio is the award-winning, nationally bestselling author of the Nick and Nora Mysteries, the Urban Tails Pet Shop Mysteries, and the Cat Rescue Mysteries. Born in New York City, she now resides in Phoenix, Arizona, with her two cats, Maxx and Rocco. Rocco prides himself on being the inspiration for her Nick and Nora series! For more information, check out her and her cat Rocco’s blog at www.catsbooksmorecats.blogspot. com and visit her website at http://www.tclotempio.net/
• FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/toni.lotempio.5
• TWITTER/X: ROCCOBLOGGER
• WEBSITE: https://www.tclotempio.net/
• Purchase Links – Amazon – B & N – Bookshop.org – Kobo –

TOUR PARTICIPANTS

MURDER ON THE BOOKS

EXCERPT ONE

I tried to edge around a chair that was blocking the aisle and kicked another customer’s expensive looking leather messenger bag. A dark-haired man glared up at me from his seat. “Hey, watch it,” he said. He reached down and snatched up the briefcase, clutched it to his chest. He shot me another black look. “Clumsy,” he muttered under his breath as he shoved the briefcase under his chair. He didn’t deign to give me another look, instead turning his attention to the ten inch tablet that lay on the table.

“Sorry,” I muttered. The man shifted his position so that his back faced me and continued shoveling food into his mouth, eyes glued to the tablet screen. He’d ordered the waffle egg platter and I had to admit it looked good, especially since it was covered with my favorite, hollandaise sauce. I felt my mouth watering. Maybe I should have ordered that. The man must have sensed me ogling his platter, because his head jerked up in my direction and his lips curved downward. Eyes the color of a storm-tossed sea bored into mine. “Can I help you?” he asked.

Surprised, I took a step backward. “No. It’s just…I’m so sorry I stepped on your bag. It was an accident.”

“Sure,” he muttered, and turned his attention back to his tablet. I took a minute to study him. He didn’t appear to be much older than me, and he really wasn’t bad looking either. His thick dark hair framed a face with a strong chin with a slight dent in it. His complexion was tan, his cheekbones high, and he filled out the cream-colored shirt and denim jacket he wore nicely. The only thing that kept him from being drop dead handsome was the slight bump on his nose, as

if it might have been broken at one time. And, of course, there was the perpetual frown and the stick up his butt which didn’t help either.

“Your breakfast looks yummy,” I heard myself say. When he stared at me blankly, I pointed to his plate. “That. It looks delicious,” I amended, just in case he had no idea what yummy might mean.

“Oh.” He glanced at the half-eaten food, then shrugged. “It was adequate,” he said.

I stared at him. “Adequate?” I repeated, not certain I’d heard correctly. How could something that smelled so good just be adequate?

His shaggy brows arched. “Passable. As breakfast food goes, it’s tolerable.” With that clarification, he turned his attention back to his tablet and I stood there awkwardly for a minute, unsure if I should say anything else.

“Charley!” Zane, her tone edged with impatience, half rose from her seat and made a wild, waving gesture at me. I turned away from the man and moved on. After skirting a group of teenagers in denim jackets and distressed jeans, I finally reached Zane’s table. My friend looked up at me with a grin, and I couldn’t help but think how true that old adage was about opposites attracting. Zane and I were as different in both looks and personality as you could get. I’d always been more serious, laid back, with a wild mane of untamed auburn curls, grass-green eyes and creamy, freckled skin that belied my English-Irish heritage. Zane on the other hand, had always leaned toward being impulsive, and with her clear mocha skin, large brown eyes and cap of short, springy black curls, could easily have become a top model. Now she slanted a glance toward the man’s table. “What’s up with Mr. Charm over there? Someone should tell him to drop the scowl, or his face might freeze that way.”

“I accidentally kicked his leather bag,” I said, easing into the chair opposite my friend. “I tried to compliment his breakfast, and nearly got my head bitten off.”

Zane took a bite of her blueberry muffin, set it back on her plate. “It sounds to me as if he’s got a case of no personality.”

“Oh he’s got personality,” I answered. I slid another glance the stranger’s way. “He’s got a rotten one, which is a shame, because he’s actually rather good-looking, scowl and all.”

Zane brushed some crumbs from her blouse and shot me a slow smile. “The fact that you can notice that about a man so soon after your breakup is a very good sign,” she said.

I picked up my latte, took a sip, and set the mug down again. “I don’t want to think about Henry,” I said. “As a matter of fact, I don’t want to dwell on my old life. Not when I’ve got a brand new one stretching out in front of me.”

Zane shook her curly head. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Charley. You’ve got a lot of guts, to pull up stakes like that and starting all over. Giving up a successful writing career to move back to the old hometown. I wish I had your kind of courage.”

I curled my fingers around the mug. “I’m glad you think I’m courageous. Max thinks I’m pretty stupid.”

“Your agent?” Zane waved her hand. “Typical man. He just doesn’t understand. Plus, he’s probably thinking about all those commissions he’ll be losing now that C. J. Barrett is retired.”

“Semi-retired,” I corrected. “I’m not giving up writing, I just need a break.” I gave a quick glance around the café. “Remember, I’m just Charley James from now on. I don’t want

anyone knowing I’m also C. J. Barrett. I’m just on a temporary break to get my mojo back. I don’t need people quizzing me about Steve Sheppard or speculating about what I might be doing here.”

“You mean like scoping out possible characters for your next novel? If that’s the case, you’re in luck. There are plenty of characters right here in Austin.” I shot her a stern look, and she grinned and put a finger against her lips, then made a motion of zipping them. “Don’t worry, mum’s the word,” she said. “I’m just glad you plan to keep on writing, eventually. I love those books!”

“Thanks for those kind words, friend.” I leaned back in the chair and stretched my legs out to the side. “So, tell me, what’s the latest on that business you plan on opening?”

Zane leaned back in her seat. Her fingers toyed with the edge of her napkin. “Yeah. About that…not so good.”

I frowned. “What happened? Don’t tell me you changed your mind and decided to stay on at the bakery?” Zane was an excellent baker. She’d graduated San Francisco Cooking School and after working at several upscale bakeries in California, had returned home to care for her sick father. When he’d passed last year she’d decided to stay in Austin and got a job as Head Baker at Frederick’s Bakery in Clarkville, a few towns over. The last time we’d spoken, though, she’d been all excited about the possibility of opening her own bakery slash café right here in Austin.

Zane shook her head. “Oh no. I still want to open my own business, especially since Mr. Fredericks is still planning to retire next year. God knows who would get his business. His son has zero interest in it. That’s the main reason I decided it was time to strike out on my own, but it seems my plans have hit a rather unfortunate snag.”

I took a sip of my latte. It was delicious. “What sort of snag?”

Zane picked up a spoon, tapped it against her coffee cup. “It seems that Sheila-the girl I was supposed to go partners with, Sheila Crowder-well, she took a powder.” The bitterness in her tone was unmistakable. “She left me a note stuffed in my mailbox yesterday, saying that something unexpected in her life came up and she had to leave town. She was sorry for any inconvenience her leaving so suddenly might cause me.” Zane let out a bitter laugh. “Inconvenience? Was she kidding? She up and takes off less than a month before we’re set to open, and she’s sorry.”

I didn’t know much about Sheila, other than she and Zane had met a few months ago when Sheila had moved to Austin and had hit it off immediately. Knowing how picky Zane could be about relationships, I’d figured that Sheila must have been pretty special. Now I reached across the table and grabbed Zane’s hand. “Oh, Zane. I am so sorry. I know how you must be hurting.”

“Yeah, well, I guess that’ll teach me to open up so quickly to a virtual stranger. Funny thing, though, Sheila and I, we clicked right away. We had so much in common-or so I thought.” She blew out a sigh. “Guess I’m not such a hot judge of character after all.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” I replied. “We’re all entitled to a mistake in judgment occasionally. Lord knows I’ve made enough of them.”

“Making them with men doesn’t count,” said Zane. “Everyone knows what complex creatures they are.”

“No argument there. So what are you going to do about the store?”

She leaned across the table, cupped her chin in her palm. “Dunno. The landlord-Otto Krebs-was thrilled to rent it to us, and I’ve got a feeling it won’t be easy to get out of the lease. At least, not without paying a stiff penalty, which I really can’t afford right now.” She gave her head a brisk shake. “I tell you, I’m sick over it. We already had the rooms painted and were supposed to set up a meeting with the electrician this week, start getting ready for a grand opening for the first week in November but now…” Her voice trailed off, ended in a long sigh. “That’s not happening.”

I reached across the table, grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. “What a shame.”

“Sure is.” She slanted me a glance. “You would have loved it Charley. She was going to call it Mainly Mysteries.”

“Mainly Mysteries? She was going to open a bookstore?”

“Not just any old bookstore. She was going to specialize in mysteries and thrillers. Oh, it seemed perfect,” Zane said with a sigh. “There’s no bookstore in this town. The only thing that passes for one is the rack near the counter at the Emporium, and those are mostly outdated paperbacks. Edna Scribner says mysteries are always the first books checked out at the library. And…” Zane lowered her voice as she added, “I happen to know Sheila had a whole case of C.J. Barrett books delivered. Number one right up to your latest.”

“She did?” I couldn’t hide a pleased smile.

“Yeah. Too bad they won’t get sold now. I bet they would have gone like that!” Zane snapped her fingers in the air. “I suppose I should return her stock, but I haven’t the faintest idea how to go about it.” She shot me a hopeful look. “Do you know, Charley? Could you help me with it?” She leaned over and waved her hand in front of my eyes. “Hello. Earth to Charley. Did you hear me?”

“Huh, oh, yes. I heard you. I was just thinking.” I leaned forward. “What about trying to find someone else who might want to partner with you, maybe take over the bookstore?”

“Hm. Well, I don’t know about that,” said Zane. “I mean, a business partnership is like a marriage. After this experience it would have to be someone I really, really trusted and that lets out the majority of people.”

I leaned forward and turned my index finger inward toward my chest. “What about me? You really, really trust me, don’t you?”

Zane’s jaw dropped. “You! You’d want to do something like this?”

“Why not? It’s not as if I’m not familiar with the concept. Lord knows I’ve been in a ton of bookstores over the past twelve years. I’ve gotten friendly with a lot of booksellers. I know how the business works. Plus, let’s not forget my years clerking at Blackmoore Books when I was in college. I’ve ordered many books in my day. Sent ‘em back too.” I let out a soft chuckle. “And Max was right about one thing. I’m going to need a job, a source of income. My savings are pretty substantial, thanks to Henry, but I don’t want to drain them.”

Zane’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, Charley! That would be marvelous! The best part is, you wouldn’t have to put out a dime initially. Sheila was a pretty frugal person. She told me she cut back on a lot so she could pay off her stock and rent for the first three months.”

I paused. “What if Sheila should come back? She could, you know.”

Zane’s lips tightened. “Then she’s SOL. Anyway, it didn’t seem from her note that she’d be returning, at least not anytime soon. She said she was officially giving up her half, and that’s good enough for me. We never did get around to drawing up a formal partnership agreement, so she wouldn’t have a leg to stand on. She’s not coming back,” Zane said with an air of finality. She tapped at her mid-section. “I feel it in my gut.”

“Okay then,” I said. “How about we do this? I’ll run the bookshop on trial for three months. If it’s successful at the end of that time, then you and I can have a formal partnership agreement drawn up.”

“Sounds perfect,” Zane said. Her face split in a wide grin. “It does seem like Fate, doesn’t it? You giving up your career at this particular time and coming back here, just when I need you the most. Now, you’re sure you want to do this?”

I met her gaze. “Yes, Zane. I really really do.”

“Well, then, let’s you and I go have a look at the store!” Zane hopped up from her chair and grabbed her jacket. She kept hopping as she shrugged her arms into it, then tugged at my arm impatiently. “Come on!”

“Okay, okay.” I started to laugh. I couldn’t help it. Zane’s enthusiasm was contagious. “I’m coming.”

As I rose I stole a glance over at the man whose bag I’d kicked. His head was down and he was still looking at his tablet. As I started to push in my chair, he raised his head and for a brief minute, our eyes locked. I felt a little chill run down my spine before he tore his gaze away from mine and went back to his tablet.

I bowed my head and studiously avoided his table as I followed Zane out of the coffee shop.

EXCERPT 2

Jeff cocked his head to one side. “You haven’t changed, Charley. You’re still the same girl you were in high school, making mysteries out of commonplace events.” He let out a chuckle. “You know, lots of us thought you’d end up being a detective, or maybe a mystery writer.”

I started at Jeff’s last comment. “Really?” I said, making my tone light. “Well I ended up as a junior researcher for a New York magazine.” At his blank look I added, “A researcher is a sort of a fact checker.”

“A fact checker, huh?” He rubbed at the stubble on his chin. “Well, I guess that’s a detective of sorts, right?”

“In a way.”

Our gazes locked for a few moments. I tore my gaze away first and cleared my throat. “I guess you should get busy checking those wires,” I said. “I’m sure you’ve got other stops to make today.”

His head bobbed up and down. “Yep. Got a full schedule today. I’ll get my ladder and be right back.”

Jeff exited out the door. Once he’d gone, Poe rose from his supine position, stretched, then ambled back toward me.

I knelt beside the cat. “You’re still in hot water,” I whispered. “You could at least try to be civil.”

Poe let out a soft meow, then butted his head against my hand.

I straightened and gazed around the room, trying to visualize how it would look once I’d had it all fixed and furnished. That reminded me that there was more inventory to look over. Zane had said that Sheila had put some of the boxes in the basement. I figured that while Jeff was looking over the lighting, now might be as good a time as any to see if I could locate it. Before I could start downstairs to the cellar though, Jeff came through the door, carrying a tall ladder. He set it up underneath the fixture and climbed quickly up the steps, started to fiddle with the light. I didn’t see the need to disturb him, so I opened the door that led to the basement and beheld a flight of stone steps leading downward. Poe decided to accompany me, but we’d only gone down two steps when the lights flickered and went out. “Great,” I muttered. I turned and yelled up the steps, “Jeff? Is everything all right? Did something happen with that fixture?”

“I don’t think so,” Jeff called back. “It’s more likely a fuse blew. Where are you?”

“On the stairway leading to the basement,” I answered. “I’m sorry, but I have no idea where the fuse box is.”

“I think it’s in that curtained area,” he said. “It’ll just take a minute to fix. Stay where you are. You don’t want to take a tumble down those steps. They’re pretty steep.”

I hesitated, unsure of what to do. I felt in my pocket for my phone, found it, and turned on the flashlight app. The beam cut a wide swath of light, illuminating the basement floor. I looked at the cat. “Well, what do you say? We can see where we’re going, so we might as well continue.”

Poe meowed in assent, so we continued on down to the bottom. I flashed the light around in a wide arc, illuminating a far corner of the room. There was a large chest shoved under an eave in a far corner, and about two feet away from that three large boxes stacked one on top of the other.

I looked at Poe. “I think we’ve hit pay dirt,” I said.

Poe’s eyes slitted, and he made a rumbling noise, deep in his throat.

I made my way forward, pausing in front of the chest. It was quite large, and rectangular in shape. An oblong curved lid rested atop it. I recognized the wood as oak. The chest appeared to be well made, with the look of a piece fashioned by a master craftsman. Intricately carved rosettes decorated its lid and sides. It would be perfect in front of a bed, I thought, an excellent storage place for blankets and pillows. Had it been Sheila’s? If so, I couldn’t imagine why she might have gone off and left this magnificent piece.

I made my way over to the boxes. I noticed that the flap on the top one was open. I pulled it back and reached inside. I pulled out two books that looked very familiar to me. All the Dead Bodies and Coroner’s Court. The first two Steve Sheppard novels. I flipped to the back cover, where there was a very brief biography of C. J. Barrett. As was the case with all of my books, the requisite author photo was absent.

“Look Poe. My C. J. Barrett novels,” I whispered. I held them up, but Poe was nowhere to be found. “Poe,” I called. “Where did you go?”

No answering meow. Great. A second later, I heard frantic scratching sounds. “Poe,” I called again. “What the heck are you doing?” I tucked the books under my arm and shone the light around the room. I spied the cat him on top of the chest in the corner. He was pawing frantically at its top. “Poe,” I called again. “Get down from there.”

His answer was to paw even more frantically at the lid.

I started toward the cat but my foot caught in a crack in the cement floor and I pitched forward, arms flailing out in front of me. My phone went flying, skittering across the concrete. I hurled forward and banged full tilt into the chest just as the basement was plunged into darkness. Poe let out a loud yowl and jumped off the top of the chest just as it tilted forward. I twisted my body just in time to avoid having it land right on top of me.

At that moment the lights went back on. Jeff’s head appeared at the top of the stairs. “Everything all right down there?” he called anxiously. “I heard a loud bang.”

“I’m fine,” I shouted back. “I just tripped and crashed into this chest—“ I stopped speaking as the words died in my throat.

The chest had fallen over, and the lid had popped open. Dangling over the side of the chest was a human arm.

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If you’re new here—welcome! I’m Michelle L. Clifton, cozy mystery author and lover of all things twisty, heartfelt, and fun. I love sharing my favorite reads, introducing fellow authors, and spotlighting stories that bring a little mystery to your day.

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