Of Owls and Oolong (Owls, Tea Shops, and Other Magical Nuisances Book 1)

by Shari L. Tapscott

For pixies, our magic is a part of us. For the high fae, it’s a tool. We’re chaos, and they’re control.

“I’m afraid you misunderstood. What I mean is, I prefer it when you shimmer.” Then he casually tacks on, “And I find it quite intriguing when you shimmer for me.”

“How high did you set the burner?” “The recipe said it needed to be a medium heat.” “And you got it to roughly the surface temperature of the sun.”

Easiest chicken you’ll ever make, the blogger claimed. Ready in thirty minutes. Lies.

“There are five main types—black, which is fully oxidized. Green, which is either pan-fried or steamed after it’s picked to prevent the tea from oxidizing. Oolong, which is semi-oxidized and can sit anywhere between black and green in terms of flavor. White is minimally processed, and pu’er is aged. There are also yellow and purple teas, but we won’t cover those today.”

“Your summer sunshine is already nearly impossible to resist, and then you sparkle for me—just for me. It’s going to be my undoing.”

“His name is Rowan, and he’s an idiot mage who turned himself into a bird. And if anyone should be stuck with him, it should be me.”

“You’re a fickle woman. If you think I like you ‘too much,’ you panic. If I don’t notice you at all, you’re offended.”

What to Do When Your Elf is Broken?

“There are other pixies in town, you know.” “But you are the only one the clouds adore. They sob every time you sniffle.”

And suddenly, two truths become apparent about sorcerers: One, they’re completely insane. Two, they’re born to push boundaries. They’ll test their magic. They’ll attempt the impossible, just so they can move on and try something crazier. It’s their nature.

“Your magic is too precious to sacrifice,” Rowan answers. “Precious?” I laugh, unnerved. “You told me it was cute and worthless.” “That’s before I realized you could call a storm and ruin Ash’s entire day. If there is a gift that needs to be protected, it’s that.”