Katherine Garbera
Author Book List

A witchy, witty, wickedly sexy romance about love, books, friendship and the unexpected connections that bind us together…

Bookbinding (verb): the art of creating something magical out of fabric, leather and paper.

As a lonely foster kid, Serafina Conte sought refuge in handmaking journals—and writing her wishes within their pages. Now, in the quirky new age store she shares with her two best friends, Sera’s intentions have paid off. Her journals are in the spotlight—and rumored to manifest great things. Whether it’s witchy skills, real magic or not, Sera’s finally ready to be the leading lady of her life story…

Until her plot hits a twist.

After the death of her mentor, Ford Sitwell, all the loneliness and insecurity of her past returns. The only balm is the box of antique books he left to her. But Ford’s suspicious brooding grandson, Wes, is ready to think the worst of her—and get his grandfather’s books back! The first part doesn’t bother her. The second? Forget it. Sera won’t give Wes the books so easily. But it’s clear he’s seeking something more, an emotional connection no book can replace. So she offers a deal—work in her store for six weeks, and in return, she’ll help him get closure by sharing memories of his late grandfather.

Yes, Wes seems grumpy, but actually he’s hot…and maybe kind? Deep down? And when desire and vulnerability work their charms, Sera begins to wonder if the best stories aren’t the ones you intend, but the ones that take you where you least expected...

Excerpt

Prologue

“Charm, curse, confluence,” Liberty Wakefield said.

“That sounds...” Serafina Conte didn’t know how to describe this latest version of kiss, screw, avoid that her friend was trying to come up with to market in their store. It was bold, in-your-face.

Liberty was the most witchy of the three best friends. Their town was sold on the idea, the possibility, that they weren’t just friends and business owners...but a coven of witches. It didn’t help matters that Liberty had insisted they go to the top of Hanging Hill at midnight on the summer solstice and dance around. More than a few people noticed.

It had been fun, and Sera had always been a no-regrets kind of person.

Oh, who was she kidding. She’d never been a no-regrets person. Not once. But Liberty and Poppy were her best friends. And she’d do anything for them. Hence discussing a witchy version of this game that they could possibly create and sell in their shop. Liberty had suggested they make an oracle deck that featured forty-eight different cards inspired by their shop: sixteen cards of authors living and dead from Sera’s part; sixteen cards of bakers and famous tea makers from Poppy’s; and lastly sixteen cards featuring witches, wizards and magical creatures, both real and fictional, from her own. There would also be twelve blank cards the purchaser could fill in with either people they knew or celebrities or their own category.

“I’m fine with it as long as it brings more customers in,” Poppy Kitchener said.

“Me too,” Sera said.

The door to their shop opened and they all turned since traffic had been slow on this gray November day. Most locals had hurried home to get ready for Thanksgiving, and tourists were probably doing the same. Sera hadn’t celebrated the holiday much. It was for families, and she’d never really had one. Not one of her own. She’d grown up in foster homes, and Thanksgiving hadn’t been a big deal.

Poppy was British, so she didn’t celebrate, but Liberty did. And they were all going to her mom’s house the next day for the feast. Sera was looking forward to it, but trying to be cool in case they canceled on her. Even though she knew her friends would never do that, old habits died hard.

“Hello, are you still open?”

“Sera vaguely recognized the woman standing in the doorway. But couldn’t place her face. Maybe they’d gone to college together?

“We sure are. Do you need help finding something, or do you just want to browse on your own?” Liberty asked.

“Browse, I guess,” the woman said.

“Would you like some tea?” Poppy asked.

“Yes. I’d love it. And I think you have some handmade journals, right?”

“We do,” Sera said, getting up and going over to her corner of the shop, which was lined with floor-to-ceiling bookcases stocked with books that she chose, as well as journals she bound by hand. Something about the woman’s voice was ringing bells, but for the life of her Sera couldn’t place it.

“This is a selection of premade journals,” she said, leading her to the display table. “What are you looking for?”

“I don’t know. Something that will inspire me.”

“To write? This journal has pages that I took from an old manuscript. The writing has faded, but some of the gold leaf they used to embellish the words remains. Want to look at that?”

“I’d love to.”

Sera showed her the journals and stepped aside so she could check them out in private when Liberty came over, grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the back room. “OMG. That’s Amber Rapp.”

As soon as Liberty said the name, everything clicked. The pop singer was known for her catchy tunes and snarky lyrics about her breakups. It was her. “I thought she was someone from college.”

“As if. What’s she doing here?”

“She said she was looking for inspiration,” Sera said.

“You should offer to make her a custom journal like you did for Poppy and me,” Liberty said.

Sera wasn’t sure. That was something private between the three of them. But Amber did say she was looking for inspiration, and both Liberty and Poppy claimed their journals had helped them meet their goals. “Why not?”

She went back into the room where Amber was still standing at the table. When she looked up, she seemed to know they’d figured out who she was. She waited as if ready to take a selfie or sign something.

What kind of life must that be?

“I guess I’ll take this one,” Amber said, holding up a leather-covered journal that Sera had made a few weeks ago using a newer binding process she’d learned from her friend Ford.

“I don’t know if you’ll be interested, but I sometimes make special journals with an intent inscribed.”

“inscribed.”

“She made one for me and Poppy and it led us to opening the store,” Liberty said.

“How?” Amber sounded skeptical.

Well, you write down an intention and then I will emboss it into the cover of the book. You fill out the journal, and when it’s full, the intention becomes real,” Sera said.

“Really?”

“Yes. It’s worked for all three of us,” Poppy said, coming over with the tea she’d made.

“Okay. I’ll try it,” Amber said.

Sera went to her workbench and took a piece of old parchment and a fountain pen and came back, handing them to Amber.

“What should I write?”

“Something you can believe in. I wrote, ‘There is magic in the words in this book, and they will create the life I want,’” Sera said.

“We did the same,” Liberty added.

Amber took a minute to think and wrote a version of Sera’s suggestion.

“Okay, it will take about thirty minutes for me to put this into the cover.”

“Want to have your cards read while you wait?” Liberty asked.

“Love to.”

Sera heard them move away as she went back to her workbench and carefully lifted the cardboard back under the front cover. She placed the handwritten piece of parchment on the inside and then closed the cover with glue and reattached the bindings of the leather. When she was done, Amber told them she’d enjoyed meeting them and left.

“Wow. We should have asked for a selfie,” Poppy said.

“No one is going to believe she was here,” Sera said. “But I think it was probably nicer for her to just be a girl in the shop than Amber Rapp, megastar.”

“Probably. Her cards were intense,” Liberty said. “So back to charm, curse or confluence. What do we think of Merle?”

“Gross. He’s my cousin,” Poppy said.

“Charm,” Sera said. She liked Merle, who bought a lot of books from her on wizardry and war for his Dungeons and Dragons campaigns. He was the dungeon master for his group.

“Great, so that leaves curse for me,” Poppy said.

“Confluence, then. He’s a bit too nerdy,” Liberty said. “But I’d still rock his dungeon.”

They all laughed. Sera had found something she’d never had the courage to write about in her manifesting journal. Sisters.

One year later, Amber Rapp dropped her new album and it went straight to the top of the charts. She gave all the credit to her visit to WiCKed Sisters in Birch Lake, Maine—which just confirmed for many locals that they were indeed a coven and most likely good witches. Since then, Amber’s fans had descended on the town in droves, all wanting to get their hands on the journal Amber had purchased, have tea in Poppy’s shop and get their cards read by Liberty.

everyone could use a bit of magic in their lives

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