Hello! Here's that heads up I promised last time: You can now grab the entire romantic fantasy Clandestine Magic trilogy and a new short story set in that world for just 99 cents.
It's only going to last a few days, a thank-goodness-2021-is-done present for you and anyone you'd like to share it with.
The Clandestine Magic series is about Beatrix Harper, an activist with the Women's League for the Prohibition of Magic, and Wizard Peter Blackwell, who comes home to serve as her town's jack-of-all-trades omnimancer.
The timing and his motivation are suspicious. And then he strong-arms her into taking a job as his assistant.
He's lit a fuse he can't possibly control.
Contents: a warped 21st-century setting that feels like the 1910s, secrets and intrigue, enemies to lovers, wizards with silver hair, long coats that billow in a satisfying manner, found family, band-of-sisters activism, dangerous magic and steam.
Here's what some lovely reviewers said about the series:
“Subversive is the first book in the Clandestine Magic trilogy and when I finished it I immediately one-clicked the next two books.” — Smart Bitches, Trashy Books
“A highlight of my very bookish year.” — itsKoo Reviews
“Readers who enjoy fantasy stories with strong female protagonists, magical powers, intriguing political plots, and a great love story will love Subversive.” — One Book More
“A spectacular story of magic, politics, social classes, and the uncompromising need to do what you think is right.” — Bookshelf Adventures
Here's how the series begins:
Wizards never came to Ellicott Mills anymore. Beatrix stared at the contrary specimen striding toward her and had a fleeting thought—more of a hope, really—that he simply needed directions to some other place.
Then the man said, “I must speak with the mayor,” and her heart sank. What if this was the town’s new omnimancer? After so long without one, she’d assumed that Washington would never appoint a replacement. It did not bode well if they thought now was the time.
“Well?” The wizard leaned into the counter separating them, frowning at her. “Don’t gawp at me. Is the mayor here or not? This is his store, isn’t it?”
“I’m afraid he’s at lunch,” she said, aiming for polite but hitting just shy of the mark. Gawping, indeed.
“I’ll wait.” He turned down the nearest aisle, looking at spices.
He hadn’t introduced himself as a wizard—hadn’t introduced himself at all—but his appearance spoke for him. Though he couldn’t have been much older than thirty, every hair on his head was silver, pulled into a queue that hung halfway down his back. Even Ellicott Mills residents knew what that meant.
Beatrix stared at his profile with disfavor and then surprised recognition. Sharp nose, pointed chin, thin mouth: Peter Blackwell, native son.
She unclenched her teeth. The idea of Blackwell as the omnimancer of any place, let alone a small town, was ridiculous. For all that omnimancers lorded it over the masses, they were the bottom rung of the wizarding power structure. Blackwell had bypassed that rung from the start, and the town gossips claimed he did important, hush-hush work for the Department of Defense.
Just a visit home, perhaps. For the first time in twenty years.
“You don’t have fresh ginger,” he said, returning to the counter.
“I’m afraid not—no reason to carry it. Our customers who cook with ginger use it dried.” She unbent so far as to grin. “And of course we have no wizards to brew with it.”
“Starting today, you do. Order me five pounds. Mature, not young.”
Beatrix supposed she truly was gawping this time. “You can’t mean you’re to be our—our—”
“Omnimancer? Yes, and as such I need a ready supply of ginger. Also,” he said in the tone of a man used to giving commands, “get me fresh horseradish, garlic and rosemary. What you have in stock is atrocious. Tell your husband not to pinch pennies by leaving items on the shelves after they go bad, would you?”
Perhaps he ended up back in Ellicott Mills by insulting the wrong person.
“I’m afraid that’s impossible, Wizard Blackwell,” she said.
“Madam—”
“Miss. I can’t pass a message to a nonexistent person, you see. I am the mayor’s employee, not his wife.”
He looked at her, really looked, for the first time since setting foot in the store. “I do apologize,” he said, not sounding particularly apologetic, “if I’ve hit on a sore subject.”
Honestly. She cleared her throat to cover up laughter. “Not at all—I enjoy being in control of my life and finances.”
“A shopkeeper revolutionist.” His lips curved into an ironic smile. “Equal rights for all.”
Now that was an insult she took more personally. She knew she shouldn’t rise to the bait, but she couldn’t help herself.
“We’ve already had two revolutions over the idea,” she said, stabbing a loose hairpin back into her bun. “It ought to be self-evident without launching a third that women aren’t meant to be treated differently than men.”
“You see no distinction?”
“Anyone with sense knows a woman can do anything a man—” She caught herself, but it was too late.
“Except, of course,” Blackwell said, “for magic.”
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