Welcome to the Fey Blog Tour,
sponsored by
Bewitching Book Tours!!
For my stop, I'm featuring an excerpt
with mini-review!
There's also a tour-wide giveaway!!
Fey
(The Witches of Doyle, Book 5)
Kirsten Weiss
Kindle Edition, 354 pages
misterio press
October 23, 2018
Cozy Mystery, Paranormal Romance,
Urban Fantasy
Cover Artist: Dar Albert
Urban Fantasy
Cover Artist: Dar Albert
This witch will do anything for a normal life with the man she loves. But when you’re on fairy patrol, normal is relative.
Witch Jayce Bonheim has packed away her candles, crystals and
cauldrons. With her boyfriend recovering from a hex, she’s determined to
build a sane and magic-free life for them both.
But when a horde
of troublemaking gnomes invades the small town of Doyle, it’s up to
Jayce and her magical sisters to send them packing.
After the
gnomes lead Jayce to a murdered employee from her own café, she’s
plunged into an investigation that lands her in the sheriff’s
crosshairs. And Jayce must catch a killer before the sheriff’s brewing
witch hunt nets a very real witch.
Fey is book 5 in The Witches of Doyle cozy mystery novels. Buy Fey and start reading this quirky witch mystery today!
Spells included in the back of the book.
Note
This is a review of the following excerpt from the book, and NOT the entire book.
I do this type of thing only with books I'm REALLY interested in reading, such as this one!
What a wonderfully delightful excerpt! I thoroughly enjoyed reading it, and will pre-order this book right away! No joke! I LOVE the world-building already! And the main character is funny, spunky, and
very resourceful. The whole scene is skillfully
set -- the pumpkin patch, the fact that this witch is
on "fairy patrol", in short, everything!
I have never heard of this author before,
but, now that I have, I will start to read her books.
I've been meaning to get to cozy mysteries,
and just hadn't done so yet. I guess I was missing
a crucial ingredient -- supernatural action.
So now I'm going to dive into my very first paranormal cozy mystery!
"Wherein Jayce Battles a Phooka"
Halloween Flash Fiction from the Witches of
Doyle
By Kirsten Weiss
“Well, you didn’t have
to answer so honestly,” I grumped. My sister Karin could be bossy.
A farmer wandered the
pumpkin patch beneath a full, harvest moon, his curses floating on the warm, night
air. He prodded a smashed rind with his boot.
Jaw clenched, I scanned
the ruined field and jammed my phone into the apron of my French maid outfit.
Hey, when you’re a real witch, there’s no point to dressing as something
supernatural. Besides, Halloween night was supposed to be time for sexy fun
with my boyfriend, Brayden, not for playing monster-cop.
My chest tightened.
Brayden and I were solid. Totally. But I’d sort of missed our last two dates
due to unforeseen magical circumstances, and Halloween was a special time for
us. I couldn’t let him down again.
I plastered on a smile
and waved to the farmer. “Did any pumpkins survive?”
“Damned kids!”
In other words, no.
My phone vibrated again.
Ignoring the text, I knelt beside a tiny pumpkin the vandal had overlooked. I
picked it up, brushed off the soil. Since I was an earth witch, plants liked
me. I closed my eyes and focused on the pumpkin. Was there magic here?
“You! You! Stop!”
My head jerked up.
The farmer raced toward
a scarecrow by the side of the dirt road. The scarecrow lifted its arms and
smashed a pumpkin to the ground.
“Damn it.” It was magic.
I leapt to my feet and sprinted toward the scarecrow. Was this a new trick? The
local fairies animating scarecrows?
A shadow swept through
the darkness in a clatter of hooves. Bells tinkling, a wagon flashed between
us.
I skidded to a halt,
teetering inches from the moving hayride, loaded with giggling kids and beaming
parents and jingling harnesses.
The pumpkin split in my
hand, and I jumped. My hair lifted at the nape of my neck. What the hell?
The hayride passed.
A shimmer of light
flitted behind the scarecrow and vanished into the nearby woods.
I cocked my head and
shivered. What was that? Dropping the pumpkin’s remains, I hurried forward.
The scarecrow slumped
and dropped the pumpkin in her hands. And it was a her, a real her in a
scarecrow outfit, and not, as I’d thought, a scarecrow come to life.
“What? Where am I?” She
glared at me. “What did you do?”
“Nothing!” Typical. I
always got blamed.
The farmer roared
forward, arms swinging. The scarecrow sprinted away, which seemed like smart
thinking.
I checked my phone and
texted my sister.
Seriously. Crappiest pep talk ever. And where was I supposed to get iron?
Seriously. Crappiest pep talk ever. And where was I supposed to get iron?
The hayride clattered to
a halt. Its driver helped the riders out and handed each a horseshoe.
Iron. I jogged to the
wagon.
“Hey,” I said, chest
heaving.
The driver smiled at my
costume. “Hay is for horses.”
Yay. A comedian. “Can I
have a horseshoe?”
“Did you buy a ticket?”
“Please, it’s super
important.” That I make my date. Okay, and that I de-possess innocent
Doyle-ites. Oh yeah, and send the stupid fairy back to wherever it came from.
“No ticket, no ride, no
lucky horseshoe.”
“Fine,” I snapped and
rummaged in my frilly apron for some bills. “How much—wait, are they real
horseshoes? Iron horseshoes?”
“Sure.”
I handed over the money
and got my shoe. “Perfect.” I raced into the oak forest.
The light dodged through
a vineyard, between rows of twisted vines, and vanished behind a rise.
I jogged over the hill
into another pumpkin patch.
A middle-aged woman in a
plaid shirt, jeans, and vest hurled a pumpkin to the ground.
Aghast, I gaped at the
wreckage. At least a quarter of the field was already destroyed, rinds and
seeds and orange strings tangled on the ground.
“Catch!” I pitched the
horseshoe at the woman.
She plucked it from the
air and tossed it over her shoulder. The woman kicked a pumpkin.
Okay then. No on the
iron. Or that guy had lied about the horseshoe.
My phone chimed, a
gentle cascade of notes, and my insides fluttered. I didn’t need to check the
screen. Brayden was the only person I knew who called instead of texting. He
was old-fashioned that way. It was super cute.
The pumpkin in the
woman’s raised hands exploded, raining down on her head. Her mouth opened, and
the orb flew from her throat.
She stumbled and rubbed
her forehead. “What…? My pumpkins! Who smashed my pumpkins?”
Keeping an eye on the
wavering light, I answered the phone. “Hey there,” I said, trying for a low
purr. But it’s hard to be sexy surrounded by smashed squash.
“Jayce.” Brayden’s voice
rumbled. “Am I in the wrong spot?”
My belly heated, turning
liquid. “Sorry. My bad. I’m on my way.”
He laughed softly. “I’ll
wait. See you at Antoine’s.” He hung up.
The fairy light bobbed
up a forest trail, along a stream.
I looked down the hill,
where my F-150 was parked, and bit the inside of my cheek. If I ditched my
fairy quest, I could be at Antoine’s in ten minutes.
The light vanished
around a bend.
I swore and charged up
the inky trail. But the blasted light kept ahead of me.
The trail changed,
ribboning past cottages and a miniature red waterwheel.
I jogged up the stone
steps from the creek to Main Street.
Across the road, a
deflating bouncy castle marked the entrance to a pumpkin patch. Old Mrs.
Biddlecreek raised her cane and brought it down on a pumpkin.
Frustrated, I glanced at
my phone. It was nearly midnight. I was sweaty. My maid’s outfit was a wreck.
Antoine’s, a small town bar, would be closing soon. I was so screwed.
How had I gotten stuck
with fairy-removal duty? I didn’t know what I was doing. Iron was a bust. And
I’d no idea why the fairy had left its first two hosts. Not because of me, that
was for sure.
My phone pinged, and my
muscles tensed. I really needed to choose a text tone that was more relaxing,
like my chimes…
Chimes.
The first time the fairy
had left, horses had trotted past, bells jingling. And the second time, Brayden
had called, and my chime tones had rung.
Mrs. Biddlecreek whacked
another pumpkin.
If I was going to get
rid of the fairy for good, I needed bigger bells.
I scanned through cat
videos, political screeds… “Ha!” I turned up the volume and thrust my phone
toward the old lady. Winchester Cathedral’s bells bonged from my phone’s
speaker.
The old woman clapped
her hands to her ears. A ball of light flew from Mrs. Biddlecreek’s mouth. The
light quivered, pulsing, then shrunk to nothing, popping out of our world’s
existence.
The pumpkin patch
exploded, pelting me with an orange mess.
“Augh!” I ducked, too
late.
Mrs. Biddlecreek blinked
and shook a pumpkin rind off her cane.
“Jayce?” Brayden,
dressed like Zorro, strode down the sidewalk. Even beneath the black mask, I’d
know his broad shoulders and confident stride anywhere.
Frantically, I brushed
slimy orange from my maid’s outfit. “Brayden! You came looking for me?”
“Whoa.” He plucked a
string of seeds from my hair, and his emerald eyes sparkled. “What happened?”
“It was sort of… uh… a
magical problem.”
His handsome face
creased. “Why didn’t you tell me? I was worried.”
I motioned toward the
pumpkin patch. “I didn’t want to ruin your Halloween with... this.”
“Ruin?” He pulled me
close, getting pumpkin on his silky white shirt. “All I want is to be part of
your magic.” He kissed me, sending a shock wave through my body.
“Is that all?” I
whispered.
He peeled another string
of orange goo from my shoulder. “And get you into the shower.”
*****
Read about Jayce and her magical sister in The Witches of
Doyle cozy mystery novels. Book 5, Fey, arrives on October 28th, just in time
for Halloween!
Kirsten Weiss has never met a dessert she
didn’t like, and her guilty pleasures are watching "Ghost Whisperer" re-runs and
drinking red wine. The latter gives her heartburn, but she drinks it anyway.
Now based in San Mateo, CA, she writes genre-blending cozy mystery, supernatural and steampunk suspense, mixing her experiences and imagination to create vivid worlds of fun and enchantment.
If you like funny cozy mysteries, check out her Pie Town, Paranormal Museum and Wits’ End books. If you’re looking for some magic with your mystery, give the Witches of Doyle, Riga Hayworth and Rocky Bridges books a try. And if you like steampunk, the Sensibility Grey series might be for you.
Kirsten sends out original short stories of mystery and magic to her mailing list. If you’d like to get them delivered straight to your inbox, make sure to sign up for Kirsten's newsletter at her website.
Feel free to follow her on Twitter or Bookbub, get in touch on Facebook, post a picture of this book to Instagram and tag her @kirstenweissauthor, or send her an email. She’ll answer you personally…which may be a good or a bad thing, depending on your perspective.
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