The Quiet Corner Kerfuffle, The Novel
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The first book in the Quiet Corner Mysteries series is finally ready to meet readers — and it opens with a shock that sends the entire town of Putnam reeling. On the morning of the annual festival, something happens along the riverbank that turns celebration into chaos and leaves the community scrambling for answers.
At the center of the storm stands the Posse: Lois, RayRay, Pete, Tilly, Tank, and Chomper — a fiercely loyal, slightly dysfunctional, always‑there‑for‑each‑other crew who never planned on getting tangled in a mystery… but aren’t about to walk away from one either.
If you love small‑town secrets, found‑family dynamics, and mysteries wrapped in humor and heart, this is your next read.
Kindle available for preorder
Kindle, Paper back and Hard Cover available on April 12, 2026
About the Author
Hi, I’m Susan Markland—writer, world builder, and the slightly amused ringmaster behind the small‑town chaos of The Quiet Corner Kerfuffle. I’ve always felt that New England’s Quiet Corner carries its own quiet kind of magic. It’s in the old brick mill buildings, the bustle of Main Street festivals, and the way neighbors can drive you absolutely bananas one minute and show up with a casserole the next.
Putnam, Connecticut, has lived in my heart for years. Writing stories set there feels like inviting readers to slide into a booth at any of the wonderful local restaurants with me and listen in on whatever kerfuffle the town is cooking up this week. I love weaving humor with emotional truth, and adding just enough mystery to keep everyone—including me—leaning forward.
When I’m not writing, you’ll usually find me toggling between the cozy charm of New England and my latest knitting project. Most days, I’m drafting chapters while looking out over Quaddick Lake in Thompson, CT—the same lake that quietly anchors the world of The Quiet Corner Kerfuffle.
This book is the first in a series that celebrates community, character-driven mayhem, and the beautiful messiness of people doing their best, even when their best is… questionable. I’m already deep into the next adventures, and trust me—Putnam has plenty more trouble brewing.
Thanks for stopping by my little corner of the internet. I’m truly glad you’re here.
Tilly is also writing a book with her knitting patterns, (including the one she wears in her bio photo), tips, tricks, and, her caustic wisdom. Just don't ask for her "Brownie" recipe, you'll never get it.
Lois Hartley
I’m Lois Hartley — retired Air Force Sergeant, lifelong Quiet Corner resident, and current tenant of the third‑floor walk‑up above Pete’s Pool Hall. Yes, that Pete. No, we’re not dating. Yes, everyone in town has an opinion about that. No, I’m not discussing it.
After twenty‑plus years in the Air Force, I came home with a spine of steel, a talent for logistics, and a deep appreciation for civilian life — especially the kind that involves coffee, community events, and not being shot at. I stay busy around Putnam: volunteering, organizing, mediating, and occasionally preventing RayRay from starting small, fabulous fires.
Speaking of RayRay — he’s one of my best friends. Pete is the other. Between the two of them, I have the emotional support of a glitter tornado and a grumpy golden retriever in human form. The rest of the Posse rounds out my chosen family: Tank, Tilly, and even that little menace Chomper. I’d take a bullet for that dog. I’d complain the entire time, but I’d do it.
I love Jeopardy! with a passion that borders on religious. I watch every night, I shout at the TV, and I am absolutely certain I will be a contestant one day. I’ve already practiced my wave and my “What is…” voice. I’m ready. America is not.
Now, the negatives — because I believe in honesty, even when it’s inconvenient.
Criminal lawyer. and ex‑husband Brad lives in Florida with a woman who calls herself an “influencer,” and every month he sends me an alimony check so large it should come with a warning label. I cash it with dignity. Sometimes with champagne.
I also have what polite people call a “shopping habit” and what the Temu and Amazon drivers call “a marriage proposal opportunity.” They’ve asked. More than once. I told them I’m not ready for that kind of commitment, but I’ll always be here for them emotionally — and by emotionally, I mean with more orders.
I’m not perfect. I’m not trying to be. I’m just trying to keep this town running, keep the Posse alive, and keep Chomper from being banned from yet another public space.
And honestly? I’m doing a pretty damn good job.
RayRay DeLuca
Hi, babes. I’m RayRay DeLuca, born and raised in Woonsocket, Rhode Island — the land of Dynamites, loud families, and louder fashion choices. I came into this world with two things: a flair for the dramatic and an instinct for trouble so sharp it might as well be a superpower. I don’t look for calamity; calamity looks for me, spots the glitter, and sprints.
My fashion sense? Let’s just say Woonsocket wasn’t ready. I grew up treating the aisles of CVS like a runway and the sidewalks like a stage. Sequins, silk, neon, feathers — if it sparkles, drapes, or makes people gasp, it’s probably in my closet. I dress like the main character because, honestly, someone has to.
But underneath the shimmer, I’m loyal to the bone. Ride‑or‑die. If I love you, I will defend you, hype you, moisturize you, and possibly drag you out of a burning building while screaming. My friends — my Posse — they’re my heart. I’d walk through fire for them. I have, actually. Twice. Long story.
And yes, I’m an influencer now — skincare, serums, moisturizers, all things beautiful. But don’t let the ring lights fool you. I’m still that Woonsocket kid with big feelings, bigger hair, and a talent for being in the wrong place at the wrong time wearing the right outfit.
If chaos is coming, I’ll meet it moisturized, accessorized, and emotionally unprepared — but fabulous.
Pete Mello
Hi. I'm Pete and I've lived in Putnam my whole life. My family’s been here so long our roots probably tangle with the ones under the river. Growing up behind Tilly — who came into this world like a nor’easter with opinions — I learned early how to stand my ground, keep my mouth shut when it counted, and step in when something needed doing. Those habits stuck.
I own Pete’s Pool Hall, the old brick building on Main Street. Wasn’t meant to be anything fancy — just a place to keep the lights on and the roof paid for — but it turned into one of those spots where people drift in when they need a break or a sounding board. Folks shoot some pool, argue, celebrate, whisper, scheme… all under my rafters. If something’s brewing in Putnam, I usually hear it before the coffee shops do.
Lois rents from me, though she’d say she keeps me in line. She’s one of my closest friends, not that I go around announcing that. I fix things before she notices they’re broken, check the locks twice, keep an eye on the place. That’s how I show I care. Talking about it isn’t really my style.
People call me a “community leader,” which makes me want to hide in the stockroom, but I guess I do what needs doing. I know this town — the good, the bad, the stories folks pretend never happened — and I want it to stay the kind of place worth fighting for. When trouble hits, I’m usually the one folks look at. I don’t ask for it, but I don’t walk away either. I just do the work. One steady hand, one late-night lock-up, one quiet favor at a time. That’s how you keep a town like Putnam standing.
Tilly Mello
Name’s Tilly Mello. I’m Pete’s older sister, though most days I feel like his third parent. I manage Pete’s Pool Hall over on Main Street — the only bar in Putnam where you can get a decent drink, a straight answer, and a knitted hat all in the same ten minutes. My needles don’t stop for anything: bartending, breaking up arguments, hauling kegs, or telling the Posse to sit down and behave. Folks say I could knit through a hurricane. They’re not wrong.
You’ll find me at the local yarn store more often than at home. I don’t “shop,” I hold court. People wander in with tangled skeins, dropped stitches, broken hearts — I fix what I can.Yarn’s good for that. Gives your hands something to do while your head sorts itself out.
I bake, too.
My brownies have a reputation. I won’t confirm or deny anything about the ingredients, but let’s just say no one eats them before a job interview or a church function. My little cottage in Danielson is full of herbs — some for cooking, some for arthritis remedies, some for… well, that’s my business.
The Posse? They’re mine. Every last one of them. I adore them, even when they’re being fools, which is often. I don’t make a fuss about it, but I’d go to the mat for any of them. Loyalty’s not something I talk about. It’s something I do, preferably with a cup of tea and a half‑finished scarf in my lap.
I’m not flashy. I’m not loud. But if you need a steady hand, a sharp eye, or a knitted hat that’ll outlive you, I’m your girl.
Tank Santos
Name’s Tank. Born in Georgia, raised on red clay, hard work, and the kind of manners that stick with you whether you want them to or not. I moved around a lot before I found Putnam — never stayed anywhere long enough to unpack properly. Then I found a little place on Quaddick Lake, and for the first time in my life, something felt like mine.
I rebuilt that house with my own hands. Every counter, every cabinet, every tool bench set to my height and my comfort. Being a little person means the world isn’t built for you, so you learn to build your own. My home fits me exactly. So does Sally, my muscle car — cherry‑red, loud, and refitted so I can drive her like she was made for me. She wasn’t, but she is now.
I’m not much for talking. I’m strong, I’m quiet, and I don’t waste words. The Posse says I’m the grounding force, the one who keeps everyone from flying off in five directions at once. Maybe that’s true. I just show up when I’m needed. Loyalty’s not something I brag about. It’s something I do.
The Posse — Lois, Pete, Tilly, RayRay — they’re my people. I’d do anything for them. No hesitation. No questions. They took me in without making a big deal about it, and that’s the kind of thing a man doesn’t forget.
Chomper loves me, for reasons only he knows. I don’t argue with it. Dog’s got good instincts.
Chomper (In my own words)
I am Chomper.
Bad Dog.
Beloved icon.
Local menace.
Emotional support animal to the entire town of Putnam, though they don’t deserve me.
Lois adopted me when I was a puppy, which was the correct decision on her part. She is my primary human, my food‑giver, my stylist, and the one who pays my fines. I love her deeply, though I pretend not to when people are watching. Dignity matters.
I adore Tank. He is large, quiet, and warm, and he smells like tools and lake water. He pretends he doesn’t notice me, which only makes him more powerful. I sit on his boots whenever possible.
RayRay is my second parent. He carries me like a baby, buys me outfits, and tells me I’m perfect. He is correct. I allow him to kiss my head because it brings him joy.
The rest of the Posse? I love them, obviously. I simply choose to remain aloof so they never forget who the real authority is.
I enjoy clothes — sweaters, jackets, seasonal capes — and my crown.
Not a tiara.
A crown.
Say it wrong and I will bite you.
I love treats, snacks, and any food I can steal, which is all food. I have no shame. I would steal from a nun.
I am frequently “arrested.” These charges are baseless. The humans I have bitten were asking for it. Lois pays the fines, and occasionally someone needs a tetanus shot, but again — not my problem. Actions have consequences.
I am always in trouble.
I am always loved.
I am Chomper.
Bow before me.