With green streaks in her hair and “Rock the Shamrock” polish on her nails, Venus Bixby is ready to trade dance recitals for airplane tickets.After selling her dance studio, she has a brand-new plan: travel the world and recover stolen art. But life deals Venus an unexpected card. When she pulls back a curtain in the studio and finds the new owner dead on the couch, her next adventure becomes a very public nightmare.
Between gossiping neighbors, buried secrets, and one very inconvenient corpse, Venus will need sharp instincts—and maybe a touch of Irish luck—to solve the case before her passport dreams are grounded for good.
A Jewel of a Crime is book three in the Venus Bixby Mystery series. Expect cozy clues, small-town charm, amateur sleuthing, cats, and a mystery that keeps sparkling with surprises.
Includes cookie recipes and an oldies playlist!
Venus Bixby wasn’t supposed to be the star of anything. She was meant to walk into a scene, deliver a few helpful observations, and walk out again. Instead, she refused to leave.
Here’s what I mean.
Venus first appeared as a secondary character in my romantic comedy What's Not Lost. When I initially cast her in that story, she was an aunt to the antagonist and was already ten years older than the amateur sleuth readers eventually meet in the Venus Bixby Mysteries. Even then, she was witty, observant, and impossible to ignore. While these qualities, along with her name, made Venus memorable, she wasn't the person driving that romcom.
As is often the case in novels, some characters emerge with fully formed backstories. Others quietly dominate scenes until one day you realize they're carrying a story of their own beneath the surface. Venus Bixby was one such character in What’s Not Lost. But once I began thinking about writing a cozy mystery series, I realized I wanted to spin her off, make her my sleuth, thereby giving Venus her proper day in the sun.
The Venus Bixby, who appeared in the romcom, would’ve already lived through experiences that would be fodder for the mysteries I wanted to write. My romcom readers knew Venus lived south of Boston, raised two cats, and embraced an interest in art history. Therefore, to craft something in a different genre meant I had to create Venus’s origin story. I had to give her free rein to blaze her own uniqueness, to acknowledge her strengths and laws, and to bring her energy and voice to life.
Putting Venus in the driver’s seat.
Over the course of the cozy series, Venus repeatedly reinvents herself, turning one small business after another into the next chapter of her life. From owning an oldies music store and cookie bakery to opening a kitty day care center to becoming a bookseller, Venus is one busy lady.
Even though Venus’s personal ambition is on full display, she’s described by one reader as “sharp and loyal to those around her… her empathy and compassion are beautiful, matched only by her strength and tenacity.”
Never mind that she frequently stumbles over dead bodies. Her fear of sneezing at the most inopportune times makes her a mature sleuth readers relate to. Her habit of asking people “What’s your favorite song today?” validates her interest in others and perhaps triggers readers to ask themselves that same question.
Another reviewer portrayed Venus as “funny without being lacquered in quips, sentimental without turning syrupy, and nosy in a way that feels earned rather than performative”—all traits often more important than formal investigative skills.
In the end, Venus solves mysteries the same way she values family and relationships: by showing up when she’s needed. And just as she discovers the clue everyone else missed, she unmasks the person everyone else overlooked.
One of the joys of writing the Venus Bixby Mysteries has been spending time with a younger Venus. Readers of the romcom met a woman who already accumulated years of experiences, successes, mistakes, and hard-won wisdom. The cozy mysteries allowed me to explore the version of her who was still figuring things out.
Do you think a character-centric spinoff is a good storytelling choice?
“Where do you think Margo is?”
Rather than barge uninvited into the classroom looking for her, Gabby and I bided our time and hung out in the lobby. I shifted from one foot to the other while Gabby perused the business cards pinned to a brand-new combination whiteboard and corkboard.
“When I come back with that vase, I’ll bring a few business cards to tack up here.”
“Great idea!” I rifled through my purse until I found a couple of cards promoting Oldies & Goodies and Cats & Their Cradle. I affixed them to the cork and smiled. Part of me wondered whether Sam would take them down before anyone ever saw them.
Still no Margo. Did she not hear the bell when we entered a few minutes ago? Maybe not over Ol’ Blue Eyes. I considered writing a message on the whiteboard. I picked through the pens in the Tremont Regency Hotel mug on the desk, but there didn’t appear to be any of those dry-erase markers.
“Where could she be?” Gabby asked.
“Probably in the back. Should we check?”
I gently opened the glass door to the main classroom. A rush of crisp air reminded me how we’d kept the temperature in the low sixties so the students wouldn’t get overheated. The smell of fresh-cut grass suddenly wafted over me. My nose recognized dance floor wax, forcing me to stifle a sneeze.
The same song we heard when we walked into the lobby still played. Must be on a continuous loop. I listened closely. Ah, Frank was singing “Witchcraft.” An appropriate theme for the day.
The walls were painted a creamy shade of white. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined one wall and a row of barres ran parallel to the floor. The mirrors reflected framed images on the opposite wall. I turned to examine them up close. I walked along the wall, studying and touching each gently. Definitely Sam and Margo in their younger years.
This egotistical display was so unlike the studio Paul, and then I, owned. Our walls were proudly adorned with photographs of the young dancers who graced our ballroom.
Where are those pictures? Why didn’t they ask if I wanted them? What else did they keep from me?
“Margo?” I called.
Silence.
At the far end of the room, there was a royal purple floor-to-ceiling drape pulled closed across the width of the ballroom. As I walked toward it, I waved toward Gabby. “I’m gonna check back here.”
I noticed a universal restroom to my right. I motioned to Gabby. “You check in there.”
Then I drew back the curtain. “Never mind. Found her!” I cried out.
Sea breezes and fireworks fill the air in cozy Chatham Crossing, the peaceful and historic whaling town situated between Providence and Cape Cod.After years of living in the shadow of her late husband, Venus will finally be the center of attention this holiday weekend: starting with her fiftieth birthday celebration and ending as the parade’s Grand Marshal.
Faster than a cookie crumbles, her dream collapses on the morning of her party when she trips over orange platform shoes in the gardens of the Sofia Silva Whaling Museum and breaks her thumb. When it’s discovered the shoes are attached to the body of the manager of the museum’s gift shop, Venus becomes both a suspect and a sleuth in Chatham Crossing’s first murder in decades.
Given this unexpected turn of events, will Venus ever sing and dance at her birthday party, or will her fractured thumb end up in handcuffs?
Includes cookie recipes and playlist!
If you're a fan of Richard Osman, Katie Gayle, or Ellery Adams, give this cozy mystery a try. You just may find it a delightful diversion from some of the hair-raising, nightmare-inducing novels making headlines these days. Order A Whale of a Murder today!
When Chatham Crossing’s beloved mayor collapses at the annual Christmas tree lighting, the town’s holiday cheer vanishes in an instant. What looks like a heartbreaking accident soon turns sinister—especially when clues point straight to Venus Bixby’s cookie bakery.
Valerie Taylor considers herself an “average Jane.” She might remind you of a reclusive neighbor who’s secretly writing her next novel. Unlike many of the writers she admires, she doesn’t hold a degree in literature. Instead, she credits her love of storytelling to a steady diet of classic comedy and suspense.She’s the award-winning author of the romantic comedy trilogy What’s Not Said, What’s Not True, and What’s Not Lost, as well as of the first two books in the Venus Bixby cozy mystery series, A Whale of a Murder and Switched at Death. Her affinity for humor and whodunits was shaped early on by watching Carol Burnett, Jack Benny, Red Skelton, and The Twilight Zone.
When she’s not writing, Valerie enjoys oldies music, a passion sparked by hours growing up spent listening and dancing to Elvis Presley and The Beatles—and by proudly belonging to the Bobby Darin fan club.
Valerie lives close to her family in Connecticut.
No comments :
Post a Comment
PLEASE NOTE: I do not moderate comments, but some go to Spam anyway. Rest assured, I check regularly and will publish non-Spam comments shortly!