There exists, in this modern age, a particular sort of reader who craves neither dragons to be slain nor kingdoms to be won, but rather something altogether more precious: a story that wraps around you like a well-worn blanket beside a crackling fire. If you have found yourself utterly enchanted by Travis Baldree’s Legends and Lattes—that splendid tale of an orc barbarian trading her sword for an espresso machine—then you, dear reader, have discovered the delights of cozy fantasy.
And having discovered such delights, you shall quite naturally wish to discover more.
The following recommendations share the essential qualities that made Viv’s coffee shop adventure so thoroughly captivating: low stakes that somehow feel just high enough, found families assembled from the most unlikely ingredients, and that ineffable warmth that comes from watching characters build something meaningful from nothing at all.
The Wendy by Erin Michelle Sky and Steven Brown
Here is a Peter Pan retelling of the most unexpected sort—one in which the narration itself becomes a character, speaking to readers with the kind of wry wit and gentle warmth that defined the original work. Wendy Darling begins as an orphan with dreams far too large for the conventions of 1780s England, and through determination and clever maneuvering, carves out a life of adventure that society never intended to permit her.
What renders this novel a cozy fantasy rather than swashbuckling adventure is its tone: the narrator comments upon proceedings with such delicious understatement that even encounters with flying ships and magical everlost feel somehow domestic. Wendy’s relationships with her platoon—John, Michael, and the irrepressibly loyal dogs—create a found family as endearing as any coffee shop staff. The complete trilogy is now available, so one may settle in for the full journey without the torture of waiting.
The House in the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune
A caseworker of the most excruciatingly proper sort—all careful documentation and pressed trousers—is dispatched to investigate an orphanage for magical children on a remote island. What he finds there transforms his understanding of family, belonging, and the difference between rules and righteousness.
TJ Klune has crafted something remarkable: a story featuring the actual Antichrist among its cast of children, yet somehow the whole affair remains as cozy as afternoon tea. The romance blooms slowly, the children steal every scene they occupy, and readers repeatedly report finishing the final page with inexplicable tears upon their cheeks. One suspects this has something to do with having one’s heart grown several sizes.
The Spellshop by Sarah Beth Durst
When revolution threatens the Great Library of Alyssium, a socially awkward librarian named Kiela flees with her assistant—a sentient spider plant with considerable personality—and as many forbidden spellbooks as they can carry. Her childhood island offers refuge, but survival demands she transform her cottage into a jam shop whilst secretly dispensing helpful (if technically illegal) magic.
The cottagecore fantasy of one’s dreams, this tale features merhorses, talking plants, and a handsome neighbor whose helpfulness borders on suspicious. Sarah Beth Durst understands that sometimes the greatest adventure is learning to belong to a community one had forgotten ever existed.
Emily Wilde’s Encyclopaedia of Faeries by Heather Fawcett
Cambridge professor Emily Wilde is rather better at cataloguing the Fair Folk than at making small talk—or indeed any talk with her fellow humans. When her research brings her to a small northern village in pursuit of the Hidden Ones, she finds herself contending with both dangerous fae magic and her infuriatingly charming academic rival.
Told through Emily’s journal entries, this creates the delicious sensation of reading over someone’s shoulder as they record their most private observations. The slow-burn romance crackles with scholarly bickering, the worldbuilding enchants, and readers may find themselves oddly desperate to know what happens next despite the notable absence of anyone needing to save the world.
Can’t Spell Treason Without Tea by Rebecca Thorne
A palace guard and a powerful mage abandon their Queendom for the radical dream of opening a bookshop that serves tea. The town they choose sits just south of dragon country, the Queen’s spies never quite stop searching, and their newly public relationship requires navigation of its own particular challenges.
This sapphic romance understands that “low stakes” need not mean “no stakes”—there are dragons to consider, after all, and vindictive royalty besides. But the heart of the tale remains two people building a life together, one cup of tea at a time. Think of it as “Legends and Lattes but with tea,” which seems rather a fine recommendation indeed.
A Psalm for the Wild-Built by Becky Chambers
In a future where robots gained sentience and promptly wandered off into the wilderness, a tea monk named Dex travels between communities dispensing comfort along with carefully prepared beverages. Then a robot arrives, the first in centuries to seek out humanity, carrying a single question: what do people actually need?
This Hugo Award-winning novella accomplishes something rather remarkable—it creates cosiness without conflict, warmth without crisis. The solarpunk setting offers hope for the future, the friendship between monk and robot explores consciousness with gentle curiosity, and the dedication reading “For anybody who could use a break” suggests the author understood precisely what readers require.
Howl’s Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones
The eldest of three sisters—and therefore, by all fairy tale logic, doomed to failure—finds herself cursed into the body of an old woman and subsequently takes up residence in the walking castle of the most disreputable wizard in Ingary. What follows involves a fire demon bound to a bargain, a young apprentice, and considerably more cleaning than one typically expects from fantasy adventures.
Diana Wynne Jones understood something essential: that domesticity contains its own particular magic. Sophie and Howl bicker like an old married couple from their first meeting, the castle moves between locations through doors that open onto different places, and the whole affair sparkles with wit. That the Miyazaki film introduced many readers to this story takes nothing from the novel’s charms—indeed, one discovers the book offers its own distinct pleasures.
The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches by Sangu Mandanna
Mika Moon, one of Britain’s few witches, has always hidden her abilities and kept her distance from other magical folk—until a mysterious message summons her to Nowhere House to teach three young witches how to control their powers. She arrives to find an eccentric household, too many secrets, and a prickly librarian determined to protect his charges from strangers.
The found family assembled at Nowhere House includes a retired actor, two devoted caretakers, an absent archaeologist of mysterious purpose, and children who steal scenes with the reliable efficiency of children in such stories. The romance develops precisely as slowly as it ought, and readers report difficulty returning to reality after finishing.
The Teller of Small Fortunes by Julie Leong
Tao, an immigrant fortune teller, tells only small fortunes: whether it will hail, which suitor the barmaid will choose, when the cow will calve. Large fortunes carry large consequences—she learned this bitterly—so she travels alone with only her mule for company. Until a reformed thief and a former mercenary recruit her into their search for a lost child.
Julie Leong’s debut has been described as the potential new benchmark for cozy fantasy, and one understands why. The found family assembles gradually, each member carrying wounds they’re learning to acknowledge, and the prose offers wise observations about belonging and the immigrant experience. Those seeking aromantic and asexual representation will find it thoughtfully rendered here.
Cursed Cocktails by S.L. Rowland
After twenty years defending the frozen north as a blood mage, Rhoren “Bloodbane” has earned retirement. The warmer climate eases his chronic pain; the tavern he opens using his late father’s drink recipes offers new purpose. With his partner Callum, he discovers that building a community can be as fulfilling as defending one.
This tale wears its Legends and Lattes inspiration openly and transforms the concept into something distinctly its own. The fantasy of starting over later in life, of leaving behind violence for creation, of finding belonging in unexpected places—these prove universal enough to support infinite variations. The haunted tavern adds precisely the right amount of intrigue.
A Wizard’s Guide to Defensive Baking by T. Kingfisher
Fourteen-year-old Mona’s magical abilities work exclusively on bread. Her familiar is a sourdough starter. She animates gingerbread men for the entertainment of bakery customers and considers her life rather perfectly arranged—until she finds a dead body on the bakery floor and discovers someone is hunting magic users throughout the city.
T. Kingfisher writes with the kind of wit that makes readers laugh aloud in public places. The premise sounds whimsical; the execution balances humour with genuine stakes in a manner that earned multiple awards. Bob the sourdough starter steals scenes without speaking a word, and Mona proves considerably more resourceful than anyone—including herself—expected.
Under the Whispering Door by TJ Klune
Wallace Price was not a particularly nice man while alive, a fact made regrettably clear at his own funeral when no one manages to say anything kind about him. Now dead, he finds himself at a tea shop run by a reaper, where souls prepare to move on—assuming they’re willing to accept what awaits them.
TJ Klune demonstrates once again his remarkable ability to craft stories about death that somehow leave readers feeling more alive. The tea shop itself becomes a character, the ghost dog provides essential emotional support, and Wallace’s transformation from unpleasant lawyer to someone capable of growth offers the particular satisfaction of watching people become who they were always meant to be.
The Goblin Emperor by Katherine Addison
When every person ahead of him in succession dies in an airship accident, half-goblin Maia inherits an empire he never expected to rule. Raised in exile by a cruel guardian, he knows nothing of court politics, nothing of governance, nothing of the constant scheming that surrounds a throne—but he possesses something his father’s court has lacked for years: genuine kindness.
This might seem an odd inclusion among cozy fantasies, featuring as it does political intrigue and assassination attempts. Yet the core of the story remains Maia’s gentle determination to remain decent despite every pressure toward cruelty. The cosiness here exists in moral certainty: readers never doubt that kindness matters, that treating others with dignity changes circumstances, that good hearts can survive hostile courts.
Bookshops and Bonedust by Travis Baldree
Before she opened her coffee shop, Viv of Legends and Lattes was a young mercenary with the Rackam’s Ravens company. A hunt for a dangerous necromancer leaves her injured and stranded in a sleepy beach town, where she discovers—much against her inclinations—that a dusty bookshop and its eccentric owner offer pleasures she never anticipated.
Those who loved Legends and Lattes will find this prequel provides precisely what they crave: the same warmth, the same found family dynamics, the same satisfaction of watching someone discover unexpected belonging. That we know Viv’s future somehow makes her past more precious, like meeting a friend’s younger self and understanding exactly how they became who they are.
The cozy fantasy genre continues to flourish because readers understand something essential: not every story needs to save the world. Sometimes the most satisfying tales involve opening a shop, finding a family, discovering that the life one builds matters as much as any kingdom defended.
These fourteen recommendations offer exactly that—worlds where the stakes feel personal rather than apocalyptic, where magic exists to enhance rather than threaten, where the greatest adventure involves becoming who you were meant to be. Pour yourself a cup of something warm, settle into your most comfortable chair, and prepare to feel exactly as Viv’s customers must have felt: welcomed, warmed, and reluctant to leave.
Which cozy fantasy should you try first? We recommend The Wendy for readers who love witty narration and fairy tale retellings, The House in the Cerulean Sea for found family seekers, or Emily Wilde’s Encyclopaedia of Faeries for those who enjoy academic settings with their magic.
