Ophelie Bottin

When a PhD in criminology turned into a novelist and an artist, there must be a folder full of poisonous plants she drew herself. In that order of danger.
Ophélie Bottin writes cosy mysteries — except hers don’t do the scones-and-jam thing. Her flowers have teeth and hold secrets in Latin names. Her body counts are, botanically speaking, entirely plausible.
Her Flore Mortelle series is in French. (Not a typo. No reading glasses required.)
When she’s not plotting deaths via shrubbery, she’s illustrating the exact plants responsible while listening to heavy metal at a volume that concerns the neighbours. She lives near the Swiss border, where the quiet is the kind that knows things.
She coined the genre botanical noir because nothing that already existed was dangerous enough.v

Ophelie Bottin

When a PhD in criminology turned into a novelist and an artist, there must be a folder full of poisonous plants she drew herself. In that order of danger. Ophélie Bottin writes cosy mysteries — except hers don't do the scones-and-jam thing. Her flowers have teeth and hold secrets in Latin names. Her body counts are, botanically speaking, entirely plausible. Her Flore Mortelle series is in French. (Not a typo. No reading glasses required.) When she's not plotting deaths via shrubbery, she's illustrating the exact plants responsible while listening to heavy metal at a volume that concerns the neighbours. She lives near the Swiss border, where the quiet is the kind that knows things. She coined the genre botanical noir because nothing that already existed was dangerous enough.v