
I Finished the Series, and Nobody Is Handling It Well (Including Me)
Ten books. One town. And a finale I need to tell you about before you preorder it, because you and I don't do unpleasant surprises.



Witch. Author. Forest dweller.
Messy magic for cynical souls. Essays, spells, and stories from a forest at the edge of nowhere


One badly worded spell. One grumpy Scottish handyman who can't leave. She just wanted her sink fixed—not her libido.
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Her best friend hexed her dating app. Now she's getting matches from 1986. Including her prom date. He still has the corsage.
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She controls everything. The vineyard. Her heart. Her color-coded spreadsheets. She did NOT ask for a chaos agent with an accent.
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She fixed everything—except her own life. Now her hot flashes are fixing things on their own. Badly.
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The nicest woman in Fairhaven never said no. Now her hot flashes are saying everything she didn't. Loudly.
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She's spent her whole life leaving. The inherited house has other plans. So does the parrot.
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She's been manifesting for nine years. Nothing ever answered. Then twenty-seven tealights lit themselves—and the fire marshal walked in.
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Fired five times in two years. Living at the Holiday Inn. Now things catch fire when she feels things. The blacksmith is not helping.
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Her comedy career finally has an audience: the room itself. The mic stand bows. The chairs heckle. The stage light does her punchlines.
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For fifty years Margaret Thistle held this town together. Nobody ever asked her why she was like this. The finale—read it last.
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Ten books. One town. And a finale I need to tell you about before you preorder it, because you and I don't do unpleasant surprises.
