Sydney J. Shields

The Honey Witch of Innisfree can never find true love. That is her curse to bear. But when a skeptic who doesn't believe in magic arrives on her island, sparks fly in this deliciously sweet debut novel of magic, hope, and love overcoming all. Twenty-one-year-old Marigold Claude has always preferred the company of the spirits of the meadow to any of the suitors who've tried to woo her. So, when her grandmother whisks her away to her cottage on the tiny Isle of Innisfree with an offer to train her as the next Honey Witch, she accepts immediately. But her newfound magic and independence comes with a price: no one can fall in love with the Honey Witch. When Lottie Burke, a notoriously grumpy skeptic who doesn't believe in magic, shows up on her doorstep, Marigold can't resist the challenge to prove to her that magic is real. But soon, Marigold begins to care for Lottie in ways she never expected. And, when darker magic awakens and threatens to destroy her home, she must fight for much more than her new home--at the risk of losing her magic and her heart.

The Honey Witch

Hannah Nugent

…surrounded by the poets who propel the narrative- how romantic to die young, unstretched, unsullied, without ever outgrowing the part of the ingenue. But what happens when the girl keeps living, when she ages proudly and defiantly, without abandoning imagination, or stories, or that secret wish to find magic wherever it hides? Well, then the poets would call her a witch. 

Cassidy Nolan

She had told her mother, “One day, I will be a rose. And I will plant myself somewhere so beautiful that I will never want to leave.”

Her mother laughed. “And what if someone wants to pluck you?”

“That is what the thorns are for,” she said.

“You are a wild creature, Miss Claude. I hope to see you again,” he calls after her. She waves goodbye and then takes off in a run, knowing that she will not allow herself to be tamed.

Her mother loves to remind her of her age, as if it is a reason to stop believing in magic. She rolls her eyes at the thought—yes, she is a grown woman, and is that not magical in itself? To have survived this long, despite the world’s penchant for beautiful dead girls? Marigold has grown up surrounded by the poets who propel the narrative—how romantic to die young, unstretched, unsullied, without ever outgrowing the part of the ingenue. But what happens when the girl keeps living, when she ages proudly and defiantly, without abandoning imagination, or stories, or that secret wish to find magic wherever it hides?

Well, then the poets would call her a witch.

It is better to be lost in a beautiful daydream than trapped in a dim reality.

Most people live their lives in the pursuit of happiness, but she accepted long ago that happiness was out of her reach. So she lived her life in pursuit of her mother’s happiness instead but still managed to fall short.

“Well, that’s how all love works,” August says. “You can’t love anyone without the fear of losing them, without the forethought of grief. There is an inherent loss in love, but that does not mean that love is not worth it.”

 What she would give to be part of such eternity.

That is the first time she has heard Lottie say her name. It’s melodic, almost haunting, like it could lure her into the sea.

“Life is short, art is forever,” Lottie says.

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