Payback's a Witch (The Witches of Thistle Grove #1)

by Lana Harper

That was the thing about growing up with magic. Until you left it behind for good, you had no idea how incredible it felt just to be around it.

It all made the part of me that used to adore this place—oh, cut the shit, Emmy, the part of you that still does, the part that will never, ever stop—throb like first-love heartache.

and “because Gareth Blackmoore ruined this town for me” still seemed like a shitty answer to the question all the others boiled down to, which was: Emmy, why haven’t you come home all this time?

To consecrate the founding of the town below, Caelia Blackmoore conjured a spectacular lightning storm, Margarita Avramov summoned spirits from beyond the veil to serve as witnesses, Alastair Thorn called down the birds from the sky as his congregation, and Elias Harlow drew forth his mighty quill and . . . Took a bunch of notes.

and Elias Harlow drew forth his mighty quill and . . . Took a bunch of notes.

and the kind of hangover that made you wish you’d died in your sleep.

Now, since I’m hosting, anyone else care to propose the toast?” “To not letting Blackmoore bastards keep us down!” Linden cheered, pumping a fist. “Or, how about . . . ‘to double double, toil and trouble, when plotters scheme and cauldrons bubble’?” I suggested. “A little spicy, a little derivative, what do we think?”

Nana Caro had the demanding social calendar of a Bridgerton debutante, which meant I hadn’t seen her for so much as a brunch since the gala at The Bitters.

“Because that’s what it means to be a Harlow, my Emmy. Thistle Grove is where we become who we are. Which means that no matter where you turn, where you visit or escape to, this will always be the place that calls you back.”

“You, Emmeline Harlow,” she said, eyes locked on mine, “are so extremely fucking beautiful it hurts my soul.”