These enchanting cat cozy mysteries have been called a cross between "The Cat Who" and "Bewitched".

Humor, light magic, snarky cats, twisty mysteries and a smidge of romance. 

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In over thirty years as head librarian for the Mystic Notch Library, Lavinia Babbage had never once opened the doors before eight a.m.

I knew this because my bookstore sat across the street and three doors down from the library. Every day, I passed its darkened windows on my way to work. I watched Lavinia turn on the lights and open the doors every single morning at precisely eight a.m. from inside my shop.

Most days I didn’t pay much attention to the library, though. It was really the last thing on my mind as I walked past, my mind set on sorting through a large box of books I’d purchased at an estate sale earlier in the week. The edges of my lips curled in a smile as I thought about the gold placard I’d had installed on the oak door of the old bookshop just the day before. Wilhelmina Chance, Proprietor. That made things official—the shop was mine and I was back in my hometown, Mystic Notch, to stay.

I hurried down the street, deep in my own thoughts. The early morning mist, which wrapped itself around our sleepy town in the White Mountains of New Hampshire, had caused the pain to flare in my leg, and I forced myself not to limp. I continued along, my head down and engrossed in my thoughts when I nearly tripped over something gray and furry. My cat, Pandora, had stopped short in front of me causing me to do a painful sidestep to avoid squashing her.

“Hey, what the heck?”

Pandora blinked her golden-green eyes at me and jerked her head toward the library … or at least it seemed like she did. Cats didn’t actually jerk their heads toward things, though, did they?

Of course they didn’t.

I looked in the direction of the library anyway. That’s when I noticed the beam of light spilling onto the granite steps from the half-open library door.

Which was odd, since it was only ten past seven.

My stomach started to feel queasy. Lavinia never opened up this early. Should I venture in to check it out? Maybe Lavinia had come in early to catch up on restocking the bookshelves before the library opened. But she never left the door open like that. She was as strict as a nun about keeping that door closed.

I stood on the sidewalk, staring at the medieval-looking stone library building, my pre-caffeine fog making it difficult for me to decide what to do.

Pandora had no such trouble deciding. She raced up the steps past me. With a flick of her gray tail, she darted toward the massive oak door, shooting a reproachful look at me over her shoulder before disappearing into the building.

I took a deep breath and followed her inside.

“Lavinia? You in here?” My words echoed inside the library as I pushed the heavy oak door open, its hinges groaning eerily. The library was as still as a morgue with only the sound of the grandfather clock marking time in the corner breaking the silence.

“Lavinia? You okay?”

No one answered.

I crept past the old oak desk, stacked with books ready to return to the library shelves. The bronze bust of Franklin Pierce, fourteenth president of the United States, glared at me from the end of the hall. I didn’t have a good feeling about this.

“Meow.” The sound came from the back corner where the stone steps lead to the lower level. Darnit! I’d warned Lavinia about those steps. They were steep and she wasn’t that steady on her feet anymore.

I headed toward the back, my heart sinking as I noticed Lavinia’s cane lying at the top of the stairs.

“Lavinia?” Rounding the corner, my stomach dropped when I saw a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs … Lavinia.

I raced down the steps two at a time, my heart pounding as I took in the scene. Blood on the steps. Lavinia lying there, blood in her gray hair. She’d fallen and taken it hard on the way down. But she could still be alive.

I bent down beside her, taking her wrist between my fingers and checking for a pulse.

Lavinia’s head was tilted at a strange angle. Her glassy eyes stared toward the room where she kept new book arrivals before cataloguing them. I dropped her wrist, ending my search for a pulse.

Lavinia Babbage had stamped her last library book.