Hey sweet friend,

Ready for this month's wordsearch + recipe? Download them here.​

Inside you'll find a cozy word search inspired by Books & Buried Secrets​

​​AND Ethel Sue's (aka my family's) peach cobbler recipe. Now I will warn you, it is super good, but when I went to verify the recipe with my mama about the recipe she said to double the bisquick and use a 9x13 pan, and pour juice with the peach - ok I feel good that you have been warned, but I love the way I make it too. Is your family like that with recipes? Does each generation modify it like a game of telephone or do yall keep it classic and stick to the original? Inquiring minds want to know - in fact - adding a poll so we can all see. 😁

Now, grab a glass of sweet tea and enjoy chapter 1 from Books & Buried Secrets — Ethel Sue and all the Bridge Ladies in their first cozy mystery together. ❤️

Chapter One

The porch of Augustus’s Used Books always sounded like it had opinions.

It was down at the older end of Main Street, where the buildings leaned a little with age and the shops clustered close like they were sharing secrets. His wind chime offered constant commentary, and the old awning flapped overhead like it was trying to keep everyone in line. On this early fall morning, bright blue tubs sat lined up along the sidewalk: Romance, Sci-Fi, Business, History, Cooking, Children’s, Mystery, and one trash bin labeled Recycling at the end that looked like it was added as an afterthought.

Ethel Sue rolled up her sleeves, took a sip of coffee, and slid a paperback into Romance with the confidence of a woman who believed red lipstick could solve most of life’s problems, or at least improve the mood while you tried.

Glory and Lora worked beside her, the three of them moving in an easy rhythm.

Augustus, head tucked beneath a wide-brimmed hat that made him look part librarian and part scarecrow, moved between them like a general surveying his troops.

“Lora, children’s books in that box,” he said without looking. “Ethel Sue, anything with torn covers goes in recycling, not the Mystery tub. And for the love of the Dewey Decimal System…”

He plucked a paperback from the Cooking bin and held it up at arm’s length. “One of you put a Harlequin in here, and I’m choosing to believe it was by accident.”

“It wasn’t,” Ethel Sue replied. “Because, as they say, love starts in the kitchen.”

“Well, not in my rummage sale.” Augustus sighed like a man carrying the weight of civilization. “Romance in Romance. Cookbooks in Cooking. Please stop giving me palpitations.”

He shot Ethel Sue a deadpan look and retreated inside, muttering to himself.

Ethel Sue smoothed the edge of a paperback, unfazed. “He says that every year. And every year, he survives.”

“Morning!” Amanda rolled up with a stroller and a sleepy smile. “We just came from small group for new moms at the church and thought we’d go for a walk while we were out. What are y’all up to today?”

Everly, her eight-month-old, dozed happily, bundled and content.

“Sifting through the books for the rummage sale,” Ethel Sue whispered, eyes bright with mischief, “so we can snag our favorites first.”

“And it helps us get our steps in for the week,” Glory added.

Behind them, Barb Simons hovered near the donation bin, picking up a ceramic rooster and setting it back down as if it might start talking on its own. The women pretended not to notice. They all knew better. Barb preferred her gossip fresh.

“I don’t need any new books,” Amanda said, “but I can help sort ‘til she wakes up.” She parked the stroller in the shade.

Augustus appeared long enough to drop a stack into Amanda’s hands. “Have fun.” Then he vanished again.

Glory broke the quiet first, lifting a hefty hardcover with a slow, troubled blink. “Oh my. Someone donated a cookbook entirely about pickled egg appetizers.”

“No,” Ethel Sue said, and shoved it into Miscellaneous like she was shielding the town from emotional harm.

Amanda straightened, delighted. “Oh my goodness, I need that!”

She rescued it from the bottom of the box where Ethel Sue had safely buried it and raised it above her head in triumph. “This is going to be my white elephant gift for the Young Adults’ Christmas party.”

Then Nelda came up the sidewalk from her office down the road, in her sun hat and sunglasses. She surveyed the work in progress and rubbed her hands together. “Ladies, I’ve got three hours to help today. Put me to work.”

“Perfect,” Ethel Sue said, scooting over and handing Nelda a stack. “Here you go.”

They settled back into their work.

Lora slid another paperback into the Mystery bin. “Another mystery.” She gave Ethel Sue a knowing glance.

“Speaking of mysteries,” Lora said, “any progress on your investigation into who’s behind The Whispering Fence blog?”

Ethel Sue shook her head. “I’ve asked half the town, and everybody suddenly gets real committed to ‘minding their own business.’”

Nelda’s mouth curved just slightly. “Oh, they know. They just don’t want their name anywhere near it.”

Barb cleared her throat. “Have you looked into Marvin Caldwell’s niece? I may have heard her at Hank’s once, knowing a few details right after one of those posts went up.”

“I don’t think so,” Ethel Sue said. “There are little things in those posts that tell me whoever’s writing it has been around long enough to know which secrets still sting.”

Lora laughed softly. “Well, I wish I could tell them to put that time to better use and come help us sort.”

“Make sure you open and fan each one,” Augustus called, marching past on his self-appointed once-an-hour inspection. “Bookmarks, receipts, love notes, dollar bills, toss all but the dollars. Loose dollars go in the mason jar.” He pointed to a jar by the door. “We’re sending them to the food pantry this year.”

“Yes, sir,” Ethel Sue called back, amused.

Augustus reached the end of the sidewalk where Barb Simons was still “examining” the ceramic rooster.

Without ceremony, he handed her a stack of books. “If you’re here, you might as well help. The rooster is decorative, not a conversation partner.”

Barb stiffened. “Well, I never.”

But she took the books and began sorting them with martyr-level dignity.

Everly stirred in her stroller, and Amanda leaned in to settle her with a practiced hand.

She straightened. “That’s my cue. Snack and playtime is next.” Then she looked to Lora, her mentor. “See you Thursday?”

“See you Thursday,” Lora called back.

As Amanda waved goodbye, Ethel Sue turned back to the newest stack and picked up an orange hardback with a worn cloth spine.

She opened the book and fanned the pages, careful and practiced, the way Augustus liked.

Something slid free with a soft swish.

Ethel Sue caught it against the counter before it could flutter to the floor.

A flat envelope. Yellowed at the edges, as if it had been waiting a long time to be noticed.

Glory leaned in. “Hmm?”

Lora’s eyes narrowed. “What’d you find?”

Nelda stepped closer, peering at it the way she peered at numbers that didn’t add up. “My, my,” she said softly.

Ethel Sue turned the envelope over in her hands. On the front, in delicate script, was a single line:

To Carl

They all froze.

Lora folded her arms, intrigued. “That looks personal. Not one of those ‘return my Tupperware’ notes.”

Barb sniffed from her station. “Probably a bill. Men named Carl don’t get love letters.”

Ethel Sue slid a finger under the flap. The envelope hadn’t been sealed. Inside was a piece of notebook paper, folded in neat thirds.

“Only one way to find out,” she murmured, glancing at the others before unfolding the page.

In the distance, Biscuit the rooster crowed, as if he knew something was coming, and the Bridge Club ladies of Willow Creek gathered close, ready to find out.

I hope this little glimpse made you smile and feel right at home in Willow Creek. 💙

As always, thank you for reading along with me, cheering me on, and being part of this community. Sharing these stories — and these little extras — is one of my favorite parts of being an author.

I’d love to hear what you think of the word search… or the chapter… or both! Just hit reply and tell me. 🤗

Hugs + grace,
Melissa Alyse ❤️