I truly tried my best to get a Yule-themed short story finished in time for the Solstice tomorrow, but it didn’t happen. We’ve had the plague at my house, and between sick kids, a sick husband, holiday preparations, and me getting sick, too, lots of things have fallen by the wayside this month.
So, instead of a fun short story to read, I’m offering the first two books in the Fay of Skye series for 99¢ each from now until Christmas. If you haven’t already read the series, now is the perfect time to start! Book three (Memories of Magic) will be here before you know it in 2017.
Click here to buy the books at Amazon.
Click here to buy the books at All Romance eBooks.
Or, if you’re feeling lucky, you can try for a free copy of Essential Magic on Amazon between now and the end of the year.
Thank you to everyone who has bought my books, reviewed, shared posts, and generally supported me and my new series in 2016. I appreciate all of you, and I hope you enjoy the Fay of Skye books as much as I’m enjoying writing them!
I’m hosting a Goodreads Giveaway for Essential Magic!
There are 10 copies of the paperback version up for grabs, so enter for your chance to win!
The contest runs through the end of the month. If you just can’t wait, the eBook edition is only $2.99. You can get it from any of these retailers:
Here’s a little teaser to whet your appetite:
The act of unpacking and the guileless chatter helped Etta ignore the prickles of excitement and apprehension that sparked over her skin when she thought about what would come next.
Or when she pictured the marchioness’s very handsome son. Lady Hazelby clearly had not wanted Lord Malcolm to interact with her more than necessary, and yet he’d ignored the unsubtle hints and showed her kindness anyway.
When he’d first entered the room, he’d filled it with a magical presence so strong and fresh that she’d felt hope for the first time since meeting Lady Hazelby. She’d been relieved to see the distinct silver streak in his hair, and to feel his magic, bright as a summer’s day, with hints of cool streams and full of the refreshing flavor of a glass of lemonade.
But as they’d talked, he’d pulled his magic inward, locking it away from her, until he was as contained and controlled as his mother.
She couldn’t help the surge of disappointment, then or now. The house was so cold, magically-speaking. At home, her mother would have three or four different spells going all the time, or even a dozen during harvest season when they were always busy. Here, everything they’d done with magic in the mountains was accomplished using machines. They had electric lights strung in the public rooms on the first floor, and water closets on every story. Beth said there was even running water for the baths in the family wing, and dumbwaiters to move food and other items between floors.
Where was all of the magic? She’d passed through a weak ward right outside the house, and there was a stronger ward down a floor and to her right, which she assumed was the family wing. Maybe the marchioness had a private study there, where she did her spells.
How could anyone live like this? Etta’s power was untrained, but it was an active part of her—a constant, comforting embrace. It interacted with the world around her, giving her bits of information, and offering more if she opened her Sight. Even now, with her Sight closed, she knew that where this house stood, a Roman couple had once made love in the grass. No one was alive who knew them, but the earth remembered.
She wanted desperately to turn her passive gift into active magic. But there wasn’t much active magic to be found in this house. She sighed and thanked Beth, who curtsied and dashed off to help in the kitchens.
(c) Cara McKinnon 2016