I came to cozy mystery writing through years of listening, in work that placed me alongside people during the most difficult moments of their lives — sitting with grief, navigating conflict, witnessing the complicated ways communities hold together and fall apart. That experience taught me something that shapes every book I write: people are rarely simple, motives are rarely clean, and the most interesting truths are usually the ones nobody is saying aloud.

I created Lucy Harford because I wanted to write mysteries where the puzzle is satisfying and the people caught up in it feel real. Lucy is a former police constable who left the force after a career-ending injury and now lives aboard her narrowboat The Curious Cat, painting watercolours and travelling England’s canal network. She didn’t plan on solving murders. But she has an artist’s eye for detail, a detective’s instinct for the things people would rather keep hidden, and a sense of justice that won’t let her walk away. Her companion Sir Meows-a-Lot — a formerly stray ginger cat with impeccable timing and questionable respect for boundaries — makes sure life aboard is never entirely peaceful.

I’ve walked England’s canal towpaths, cycled the lanes and villages, and I know the landscapes and communities Lucy travels through — the beauty, the quiet tensions, the way a place can look idyllic from the towpath and turn out to be holding its breath. My writing draws on that firsthand knowledge, and on an understanding of village and small-town life that comes from being embedded in it for a long time.

These are mysteries for readers who want more than a puzzle. The crimes are solved through observation, intelligence, and genuine understanding of people. The communities Lucy passes through are warm and complicated in equal measure. And the stories ask questions that stay with you — about how we remake ourselves after loss, what we owe each other, and what happens when the secrets a community has been keeping finally surface.