My Books

Sea-Devil: A Delilah Duffy Mystery Book 1
Sea-Devil: A Delilah Duffy Mystery Book 1

You never get over your first love...how about your first murder? When a man is murdered in her bookstore the night before her grand opening, island newcomer, Delilah Duffy, makes a name for herself as prime suspect. If Delilah Duffy hopes to create a life on the island, she must navigate through a vicious family feud, shoddy police work and the mistakes of her past. Will Delilah uncover the truth before her past and her present destroy her?

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Luna-Sea: A Delilah Duffy Mystery Book 2
Luna-Sea: A Delilah Duffy Mystery Book 2

We're all just one pain away from lunacy. A seaside inn. An elegant party. A black dress. What could go wrong? For Delilah Duffy, just about anything. With her bookstore failing, the last thing she needs is a party or another mystery to solve. With nightmares, anxiety, and panic intensifying, Delilah doesn’t know what’s real and what’s in her head. With everything at risk, Delilah discovers what’s worse… becoming a lunatic or facing one.

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Sea-Crossed: A Delilah Duffy Mystery Book 3
Sea-Crossed: A Delilah Duffy Mystery Book 3

Some secrets are kept to be kind. Torture, pain, misery - that’s all someone else wants for her. When a dinner party turns deadly, Sam goes missing, and Delilah realizes she's being watched, the “book queen with a thing for crime scenes” must battle to get her life and love back. Can love and determination save them or will dark secrets ruin her chances for a normal life? With mysterious messages taunting her and a killer eluding her, what lines will she cross to get to the truth?

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Pyra-Sea: A Delilah Duffy Mystery Book 4
Pyra-Sea: A Delilah Duffy Mystery Book 4

Everything can change in seconds. Bookstore manager and crime-solver, Delilah Duffy knows that better than anyone. When her Happily Ever After Valentine’s Day Bash ends in fiery destruction, everything she’s worked for burns with it. Pregnant and brokenhearted, Delilah fans the flames of her anger toward what she’s good at: solving crimes. Hot on the trail of an arsonist while her nemesis is on hers, Delilah fights to get her life back. Will she turn ash to treasure before the pyromaniac strikes

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My Vella Story

Water World
Water World

After a tough move with his Mom and sister from his beloved country home, Ethan isn't adjusting well to city life. In trying to escape his problems in this world, he opens another, dropping him and his sister, Abby, into Water World. This trip is no vacation, not with legendary monsters and deadly sea creatures to battle. But teaming up to help the merpeople through their home-related crisis might help Ethan and Abby navigate theirs, if they survive long enough to make it home.

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  • Jessica Sherry

Rolling with my Gnomies


I wanna laundry gnome. I mean, hey, why not? Space travel’s become routine. They’ve sent cameras all the way to Pluto. There’re cloned sheep and who knows what else (a few good story ideas there, for sure). We’ve got robot vacuum cleaners and cars that tell us when we’re drifting out of our lane or there’s traffic crossing behind us (*nod to my new ride—my blue Suburu Forester Sport; I call him Blippie, short for Blue Hippie).


Is a laundry gnome too much to ask?

Just think of it. While you’re sleeping, a team of tiny gnomes slips into the laundry room and joyfully goes about sorting, washing, drying, folding, ironing, and hanging up clothes. In the morning, you awake to an empty hamper and clothes already hanging in your closet and tucked neatly in your dressers that are so linen-fresh you waste a solid ten minutes burying your face in them. Is that a hint of lavender? The towels are still warm from the dryer when you get out of the shower.

Ah, what wonderful laundry gnomes, you’ll think as you sip your coffee and imagine what other things you’ll now be able to get done. I can finally focus more on WRITING. My many novels will practically write and edit themselves with all this newfound time on my hands. Laundry gnomes would iron out some of the wrinkles in my busy life.

In the early days of my laundry gnomes, I’d leave them presents. Low hanging sticky notes that said, “Thank you!” and “You’re the best!” and even “I love you!” Tiny cups of juice, plates of finger-sized cookies, dollhouse-sized gifts, maybe even a Barbie convertible so they can have a little fun between loads. My laundry gnomes would be so happy.

So, would I, with the mystery of a happy, productive life solved! I’d quickly branch out with other skilled gnomes. Studious gnomes would edit my manuscripts overnight, so that each morning I’d come to my desk to find (gently) red-inked pages, ready for my changes. I’d bust out a novel every few months instead of one a year, maybe, (especially if I no longer have laundry to worry about). I’d have gnomes for dish-washing, dusting, bathing Brownie—that’d be fun to see, fixing dinner, plucking my eyebrows, cleaning bathrooms, and taking care of trash and recycling and, ugh, our new composting bin.

I’d be queen of a gnome empire, radiating cleanliness and productivity!

But, over time, things would change. They always do. I can’t handle life unwrinkled. I’d grow complacent with my new laundry freedoms. I’d take the gnomes for granted. The gifts would stop because I no longer have time to hunt down gnome-sized stuff. Instead, my gnomes would feel deflated under low-stuck sticky notes that said, “Please, more starch” or “Put some effort into getting out those stains” or “Hey, can you keep it down? We’re trying to sleep.” My gratefulness would diminish along with the novelty of having them.

They’d become disgruntled gnomes.

Yikes. A dark and sinister picture forms, a mix of Poe’s Tell-Tale Heart with Chucky. Angry gnomes would infiltrate my bedroom, wondering where their treats and thanks have gone, staring at me until I wake up in a fright. Then, they might ask, “Need more starch?” as they bludgeon me with tiny irons. They’ll teach me not to take them for granted, but the lesson will come too late.


It’s like the Roomba. When we first got that thing, I gushed over it like it was a precious, little angel. I rushed to its aid whenever it got stuck under a piece of furniture. “It’s okay, little Roomba. Mamma’s got you.” Now, the thing rumbles to life, setting out on its mission to clean up my dirt, and I roll my eyes. How dare it disturb my important work, nipping at my feet like a neglected puppy? I kick it away, annoyed. It rolls off, its tendrils spinning, but it doesn’t pick up things as well as it used to, and, sometimes, I swear it pulls up the ends of the rugs in an act of defiance.

Thankfully, Roomba can’t do much more than that in protest. Gnomes, on the other hand, could go medieval on my ass. Anyone ever see those weird Puppet Master movies? Oh, the eighties—when anything, and I mean anything, could be made into a scary movie. Ghoulies, blobs, dolls, cursed hands, clowns, staticy TVs, empty hotels, summer camps, bad dreams… Anyway, after suffering through Puppet Master, I never looked at my Barbies the same way again. Anything can turn sinister.

Creepy Gnome

Hmmm, there’s definitely a story premise there. ANYTHING can turn sinister… what’s the last thing in the world you’d expect to turn to the dark side? (Here. Have some more writing ideas with your coffee.)


The little writer gnomes inside my head are scurrying to life, patching ideas together, creating stories I could seriously roll with. Maybe those gnomes—the ones safely tucked away in my brain—are the only ones I should have, for all our sakes. Maybe its best for me to clean up my own messes, edit my own books, wash my own dog, do my blog work. Safer that way.


Oh, laundry gnomes, I’m just not ready for you, yet.


What thing in your life do you take for granted and how might it go horribly wrong? Share your gnome ideas below. For more weird stuff, visit www.coffeebrained.com.

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