Kim M. Watt

Warring staff. 'Accidental' poisonings. Topiary of dubious intent. Throw in the full complement of the Toot Hansell Women's Institute and dragons doing yoga, and DI Adams is starting to wonder if she might have made a small misjudgement signing up for this particular spa weekend....

Morgan Winters wants an ordinary life: A job at a bookstore, an apartment she can barely afford, and a healthy amount of existential dread. Her brother (AKA "The Ruiner") ruins that when he shows up on her bedroom windowsill, transformed into a talking cat.

Find a missing book. That was the job the woman in the Doc Martens gave us. Easy money, right? Only now it seems she's actually an ancient, powerful sorcerer, and the book is a Book of Power that doesn't want to be found. It wants to tear reality apart at the seams....

One should never meddle in the affairs of dragons, but someone has been doing just that. They've been making imitation dragon scale baubles that are nothing short of lethal, and kidnapping delivery drivers all over the Yorkshire Dales....

A call from an old colleague has DI Adams off her patch and out of her depth, dealing with a mysterious new beer that has unexpected side effects.

DI Adams is not having a good summer. Her house has been hexed. Her parents have just turned up, determined to experience all Yorkshire has to offer. And they're going to get more than they bargained for, because someone else has turned up too.

Miriam has never exactly seen eye-to-eye with her sister. But when a body's dumped on the doorstep of a Women's Institute meeting and all signs point to Rainbow, Miriam knows her sister's being framed....

Baton. Light. Chocolate. Duck. This is not DS Adams' usual kit. This is not DS Adams' usual case. She doesn't think it's anyone's usual case, not with the vanishing children and the looming bridge and the hungry river....

I see dead people. And I'm not the only one. They're even on Facebook. The dead are rising, and if we don't stop them before the infection spreads any further, we're going to be knee-deep in the zombie apocalypse before you can say mmm, brains....

Suspicious deaths on the Skipton city council don't sound as though they should have anything at all to do with the Toot Hansell Women's Institute, and DI Adams would rather like to keep it that way....

A dragon is missing. DI Adams' missing person is human, not dragon, but the trails of both lead to the village of Eldmere, where glimpses of a mysterious Beast have drawn in the nation's monster hunters. And where the Toot Hansell Women's Institute and the Cloverly dragons are in hot pursuit....

A simple case - or it should be. But all clues point to the Toot Hansell Women’s Institute, and Detective Inspector Adams is about to discover there’s much more to the W.I. than just bake sales and jam-making....

A magical mask that won't come off. A masked ball with a body count. And a reluctant witch who'd really just like to finish her cocktail in peace.

When a man from Callum's past turns up at our door claiming to have lost both the last herd of unicorns in England and his sister, I knew it should be a hard pass. The past has teeth. But old debts plus a damsel in distress means Callum just can't say no....

There's a fine line between 'eccentric' and 'a danger to oneself and others'. That's certainly what DI Adams is thinking when a body turns up in Rose's freezer. Rose might not look like an octogenarian black widow, but it's the inspector's job to follow the evidence....

Strange magic? Check. A brother who's still a cat? Check. A cryptic message from an ex-husband who's in trouble? Wait… what?

We hadn't planned a return to Leeds. But our friend Gerry is missing, and we've got to find him. Never mind the fact that anyone who can take out a troll is operating way above our pay grade. It doesn't take long to discover a missing troll is the least of our worries....

DI Adams fled London to escape bridge-dwelling monsters and magical toasties - a one-time experience she's in no hurry to repeat. She's police, not some cryptid hunter. Leeds has other plans, though.

I'm not saying the entire magical population of North Yorkshire want us dead. Just the majority. Which is why we fled Leeds to hide out in the dubious safety of the seaside town of Whitby. But lying low isn't really in our skillset....

When Toot Hansell’s water supply turns murky, it's easy to blame the notoriously soggy Yorkshire weather. But this winter, the rain's endless, the water's undrinkable, and the village is slowly turning into a marsh.