Congratulations to H.R. Sinclair for the publication of her novel Bloodstone! This is the first book in the Lost Witch series, and it is coming out on September 22nd, in paperback and eBook!
My short review:
In this intriguing paranormal fantasy, hidden magics are unveiled as Katelyn unexpectedly discovers she’s inherited an estate, a place in a family lineage, and possibly some kind of treasure. While she thinks she’s having some kind of panic attack induced visions, the truth is far stranger as she unpacks her bags and cleans out musty corners in her Aunt’s house. With new friends, unexpected enemies, and a strange affinity for her new house, Katelyn has a short time to figure out where she fits. This paranormal fantasy has all the elements of a cozy mystery mixed with urban paranormal fantasy with attempted murders, magical objects, and an interesting community. This book contains some fun twists and excellent worldbuilding.
Katelyn Grey is a gardener in Southern California. She’s content with pruning shrubs and looking after her step-mom, the only family she has left. That is, until a lawyer shows up and tells her that her long-lost aunt died, leaving her the family home on the other side of the country.
Though Katelyn hates to travel, a weird clause in her aunt’s will forces her to visit a quaint New England seaside town. Her world changes when she discovers she’s inherited a haunted brownstone, fickle magic, and a hidden key that someone else wants. And they’re willing to kill for it.
Now, she must learn how to use magic, find the key, and figure out what it’s for before she ends up like her long-lost aunt. Dead.
Excerpt:
Small colored flecks danced in the sunlight. They darted back and forth. They rushed me, encircling me, round and round, faster and faster, creating a whirlwind of color that made me woozy. I began swaying before the flecks scattered. They swooped and gathered in front of me, coalescing into the shape of a small, translucent woman. She hovered several feet off the ground, sparkling like multicolored glitter and moving like an ethereal ballerina.
When she spoke, it echoed a thousand voices speaking in harmony. “Fáilte. Welcome. We are the Breena. You are of Andraste.”
“I’m Katie.” Wariness crept into my voice. The family books read Andraste. “Yeah, I think I’m Andraste.”
“Yes. You wear the Taith, a gift of the Breena.” She gestured to the traveling boots. “We are pleased to see them in this form. It has been long since the clan Andraste has visited. Tell us, what has become of sweet Clara and her quest?”
She—they—knew Clara? “I’m sorry, she died.”
“That is unfortunate. We liked Clara. You are taking up the quest?”
My stomach dropped. They may have said it as a question, but it sounded like a statement. “I ... I didn’t know my Aunt Clara, and I don’t know anything about a quest. I’m not the right person to talk to.”
“Yes, she was given the quest. As she is no longer, the task falls to the next in line.”
“Is this an optional type of quest?”
“It is your charge.”
“Well, I’m not the next in line. That’s probably my uncle. I’ll put him in touch with you.”
The Breena moved closer to me. One of the little flecks zipped from one side of her face to the other. “You are next in line. You wear the blessing. You are of Andraste, Keepers of Secrets, Guardians of Mamwlada. You are the Legacy. Protector of the Light. You will take up the quest. Find the Oubusch. Find the Others before the gates open. Stop the disciples of Morus.”
“Find what now?”
“Find the Oubusch. Find the Others before the gates open. Stop the disciples of Morus before they break the lock.” The Breena’s voice reverberated off my skin.
I swallowed. “Who’s Morus? What gate? What others? What’s an Oubusch, and how do I find it?”
“The Oubusch will lead you to the Others. Find the Stone, find the Others.”
“But how?”
“Open the box. Use the sundial.” The words rhythmic like a song. Her essence oscillated, and her form began to melt away.
“Wait, what box?”
“What is there is here, what is here is not there. You must hurry, time is ending.” With that, the flecks disbursed, and she was gone.
“Wait, please, I don’t understand.” No one answered.
Buy Links:
Amazon: amazon.com/dp/B0CTHQJJTF
Apple: books.apple.com/us/book/bloodstone/id6587574545
Kobo: kobo.com/us/en/ebook/bloodstone-42
B&N: barnesandnoble.com/w/bloodstone-h-r-sinclair/1146070561
Books2Read: books2read.com/lostwitch
H. R. Sinclair
author • artist • dreamer
H. R. Sinclair is a left-handed hermit prepping for the squirrel apocalypse. She was born and raised in Southern California, but now lives and works in New England. She writes fantastical stories and visits cemeteries for inspiration.
Website: iamhrsinclair.com
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