The oxymoron of the popular “cozy mystery” genre is exemplified in both the title and content of Colorado Springs-based, nationally bestselling author Ann Claire’s A Cyclist’s Guide to Crime & Croissants, first in Claire’s new Cyclist’s Guide mystery series. This oddly soothing, picturesque adventure through the south of France somewhat incidentally involves a little murder. The death, in fictitious fact, serves as a sidebar to the determination of the narrator, one Sadie Greene.

Ann Claire

This bubbly, mildly adventurous woman in her 20s has quit her desk job in the Chicago suburbs, which she’s previously done well primarily because she’s good with numbers and has a natural penchant for exactitude. With increasing passion for the challenges of running a bike touring company, Greene has a strong predilection for croissants and doing other than what’s been expected of her.

Leading a group comprising her former boss, old friends and new clients through tourist-ridden terrain with which she’s familiar, the ambitious and meticulous Greene is not quite local, not quite a tourist, and is determined to make her new gig succeed despite naysayers and setbacks, one of which is an inconvenient death. This presents less an immediate criminal or emotional problem than a potential and unpredictable setback to the future of the cycling business.

Greene’s guests gradually and colorfully turn out to be other than they’ve presented themselves. The effortlessly popular guest emerges as surreptitiously conniving; the threatening critic turns out vulnerable; innocent-seeming youngsters get revealed as borderline omniscient; the elderly gradually manifest as susceptible rather than controlling. Together, the Oui Cycle group breaks the mold of a purchased, perfectly predictable adventure, turning it into an actual one.

“Welcome to Sans-Souci-sur-Mer!” begins the book. “Sans-souci means without cares, which is how we hope you’ll feel on our nine-day Secret Southern France tour.” That the group sets out on terrain literally named to suggest no troubles implies that troubles are likely to come. And so they do. Murder, however, takes place in terms of geometry rather than gore, and nothing is so unsettling that it distracts from delicious croissants and other treats at cafes dotting the group’s cycling path. A handsome policeman joins along, eventually attempting to figure out whodunit while looking good in his form-fitting cycling gear.

Another cyclist on the tour, described in italics in letters to her deceased best friend, Greene describes thusly:

Lexi’s fitness training has reached influencer level. I checked out her Instagram. She has 367,936 followers and is an “ambassador” for VitalaGreen. That’s a sports drink promising everything—energy, clear thoughts, great skin, all your dreams coming true? It looks like pond algae. I’ll have to try it.

As for her own croissant enjoyment, Greene also concerns herself with crumbs:

“Meanwhile, a pigeon eyes my blouse like it’s a buffet. I attempt to discreetly brush myself off. The pigeon—and suddenly ten of his best frenemies—make way too big a deal about this.”

Kitchen chair travelers can take away a nibble of crème catalane, the recipe for which Claire includes at the back of the book. Milk, egg yolks, sugar and itty bitty bits of cinnamon and orange and/or lemon zest make for a tasty metaphor for the book’s journey: rich, creamy and sweet  with a tiny pinch of non-assaulting flavor.

Underscoring the appeal of Ann Claire’s work, and those who appreciate it, the word “bestselling” appears six times on book’s jacket. And the book, for all its narrator’s careful planning, undone by unavoidable chaos, leaves us with a scheme most likely to work for the rest of the series: “I have no plan other than pedaling forward.”