The Eleventh Doctor and his friends join a group of explorers on a Victorian tramp steamer in the Florida Everglades. The explorers are searching for the Fountain of Youth, but neither they nor the treasure they seek are quite what they seem . . .

In Terrible Lizards, the Eleventh Doctor and his friends join a group of explorers on a Victorian tramp steamer in the Florida Everglades. The explorers are searching for the Fountain of Youth, but neither they nor the treasure they seek are quite what they seem . . .

In 1812, the skeleton of a monster was discovered beneath the cliffs of Dorset, setting in motion a collision between science and religion, and among scientists eager to claim supremacy in a brand-new field. For Reverend William Buckland, an eccentric naturalist at Oxford University, the fossil remains of a creature that existed before Noah's flood inspired an attempt to prove the accuracy of the biblical record. Novelist Gideon Mantell also became obsessed with the ancient past, and eminent anatomist Richard Owen soon entered the fray, claiming credit for the discovery of the dinosaurs. In a fast-paced narrative, Terrible Lizard re-creates the bitter feud between Mantell and Owen. Revealing a strange, awesome prehistoric era, their struggle set the stage for Darwin's shattering theories -- and for controversies that still rage today.

The Doctor treats Rory to a trip to the Wild West, where they find a ghost town full of sleeping people and the Black Hand Gang; outlaws intent on robbing the local bank. But it's not quite the same as the films Rory's seen on TV. They soon discover they're not the only visitors to Mason City, Nevada and find themselves in a showdown against a deadly foe . . .

Dark, nuanced, and sometimes twisted dinosaur stories for adults ... From Terrible Lizards: “Don’t thing I haven’t noticed it,” she said, slurring slightly, and added, “I see the way you look at me.” I uncorked the bottle and filled my glass. “You’re a very beautiful woman,” I said—and sat the bottle between us—too hard, I think. “And a talented one. What would you expect?” I watched as she shimmied and did a little pirouette. “And I’m enjoying the conversation—more than you could know. You move beautifully, by the way. Like a cat.” And then she attempted to spin again but only stumbled suddenly and fell smack into my arms; at which we just looked at each other, she with her boozy, breezy smile and me with an apparent moral dilemma: i.e., should I make a pass at her, like I wanted to, or should I just put her into bed and tuck her away safe (as though she were a simpleton, perhaps, or even a child) like, say, John-Boy Walton might. A dilemma I answered by taking her head in my hands and kissing her—heatedly, hot-bloodedly, restlessly—what a friend of mine used to call a “come fuck me” kiss; because she was no child. And I was no John-Boy. And then we went to her room and lay together; drunkenly, sloppily, unspectacularly, and after a while, I dreamed: of lightning permeating everything and rain pounding the roof like nails, like hail; of wives and friends and girlfriends and my father—most of whom I hadn’t seen in years; of small, predatory dinosaurs, deinonychuses, with dark skin and wet backs—who held vigil around our bed like cultists, like priests, and who trilled, softly, faintly, as though they were meditating. As though they were communing.

In Horror of the Space Snakes, people are mysteriously disappearing on Moonbase Laika. They return with strange bite marks and no idea where they have been. Can the Eleventh Doctor get to the bottom of what's going on?

In The Water Thief, an ancient artefact awakes, trapping one of the Eleventh Doctor's companions on an archaeological dig in Egypt. The only way to save his friend is to travel hundreds of years back in time . . .