Sisters Writing a Series About Witches
Julie and Sandy Moffett
Several years ago
when we decided to write a series together, it was a jump into unknown
territory. Writing a sequel or a series can be daunting for any writer. But for
sisters, it has its own challenges. Luckily, we survived any plotting and/or
writing crises and remained closer friends.
We did learn, however, that series
require foresight, detailed planning and extensive long-term character and plot
arcs. Actions, conflict and characters have to be sketched out for all the
books in advance. Characters must develop, grow and change.
But it was
wonderful to see the sisters and their sexy men come to life. We were thrilled
and privileged to be able to stay with our characters for three books. It was
like visiting with family and friends each time.
So, with all of
that in mind, we created a family. The year is 1792 and the place is colonial
Salem, Massachusetts. Three sisters are separated at birth, but united by a
powerful secret. Each sister has an unearthly power. Now the sisters are being
drawn back to the place of their birth to fight a deadly curse. Will they be
able to find each other and unite in time the same themselves and the ones they
love?
We had a blast
writing the series, and it was a special time for us to share as sisters. We
were also thrilled when the series garnered several book nominations and
awards.
Now,
for the first time ever, the series is packaged together, plus we added an
additional paranormal novella set in Salem featuring a young witch.
We
sincerely hope you enjoy reading the MacInness Legacy Trilogy as much as we
enjoyed writing them. Be sure to offer a review or stop by our websites to let
us know what you thought!
You can buy the box set at most online retailers.
Here are the links to the box set on Amazon, Nook, and Kobo.
We absolutely LOVE to chat with
readers, fellow writers and fans. So, stop on by! Feel free to sign up for our
very occasional newsletter at our websites.
Visit Julie at www.juliemoffett.com, @JMoffettAuthor (Twitter), Facebook
Visit Sandy at www.sandymoffett.net, @SMoffettAuthor (Twitter), Facebook
The MacInness Legacy Series
In 1692, an innocent man accused of witchcraft hangs in Salem, Massachusetts. His death reignites a deadly feud between the descendants of two ancient Scottish clans—MacGow and MacInness, which leaves the MacInness clan descendants cursed. Any man who weds a MacInness is destined to an early death. The MacInnesses have one century to lift the curse and reflect it back upon Clan MacGow. One hundred years later, triplet sisters separated in childhood, are being drawn back to Salem. The have three months to refine their unearthly talents of fire, sight, and healing, and break the deadly curse…or lose the men they love forever.
The Fireweaver
The MacInness Legacy
Book I
Julie Moffett
Genre: Historical Paranormal Romance
Publisher: True Airspeed Press, LLC
Date of Publication: June 27, 2014
ASIN: B00LCS4TEM
Number of pages: 279
Cover Artist: Su Kopil
Book Description:
From best-selling author Julie Moffett comes THE FIREWEAVER, the first book in a historical paranormal romance series about sister witches written in conjunction with her own sister, Sandy Moffett.
Bridget Goodwell is the daughter of one of Salem’s most prominent Congregationalist ministers. Although Bridget is almost twenty-one years of age and long past the prime age of marriage, in three months time she will finally wed Peter Holton, a wealthy law student from a respectable family. Bridget’s future seems secure and bright. Except for the fact that Bridget is hiding a terrible secret. She is able to set things on fire by willing it so. All of her life she’s successfully hid her unnatural ability from family and friends. But just three weeks before her wedding, her secret is threatened when her childhood nemesis and first true love, Benjamin Hawkes, sails back into town with trouble on his mind.
Book Trailer: http://animoto.com/play/nG1PGQw35U1KOP6GdB2DHg
Excerpt
The Fireweaver:
Salem Village, Massachusetts
October 31, 1692
Priscilla Mary
Gardener was about to hang.
After twenty-one
years of life, it would end here on Gallows Hill, not far from her home, with a
rope around her neck and a suffocating black wool hood draped over her face.
How ironic that
death would embrace her now. Blessed with health, youth, and vibrancy, she had
never given herself leave to contemplate her own demise. But during these past
two weeks she had been forced to ponder death and the fragility of life. She
did not want to die. Even as she stood precariously over a rickety trap door
with a noose around her neck, she still dared to hope there was a possibility
she might be saved.
But it was not
to be.
It saddened her
that not one of her neighbors or friends came forward to speak for her, to
challenge the preposterous claims that had been made against her. Not one
raised their voice in protest against her execution. She was alone and
condemned. The thick rope weighed on her neck, chafing her skin. Her wrists
were tied behind her back and rubbed raw. At first, her arms had ached
fiercely, but now only a dull pain throbbed. Her legs were unbound, but she
feared moving even a breadth lest the trapdoor open and hasten her demise.
Priscilla drew
in a painful but steadying breath, and reflected upon her life, one that had
once been blessed and good. She’d had a husband who had loved her, and a mother
and father who had adored and sheltered her. As death neared, she saw that
little else mattered. Breathing became more difficult beneath the hood. Cold
sweat trickled down her temples and neck, causing her to shudder
uncontrollably. Perhaps, if God were truly merciful, she would suffocate
beneath the black hood before they ever got on with the hanging. If not, she
prayed her death would be quick and clean. She had no wish to suffer a long and
agonizing death while the people she had known all her life looked on,
wondering, whispering.
Priscilla
supposed it was almost time now. A man on the scaffold said something, but she
couldn’t make out the words through the hood. She was no longer certain if she
were breathing. She felt light-headed, weak, as if she had already taken leave
of her body. A hand pressed into the small of her back and she heard more
mumbling. Then the noose tightened around her neck just as the trap door
opened. Priscilla felt herself falling and then yank to a stop as pain exploded
in her head. The pain passed and there was nothing but a suffocating stillness.
Was she dead?
Without warning,
the chilling darkness turned to light, shocking her senses. When her vision
cleared, Priscilla could see a body swaying from the gallows a short distance
away, the horrid black hood still in place. It seemed so insignificant—a tiny
black dot against the enormous gray-tinged skyline. Yet as she watched the body
sway, she sensed something was not right. Inexplicably her sight became riveted
on the black hood as if beneath the coarse, woolen fabric lay the answer to her
death. Somehow she willed her spirit forward until she almost touched the hood.
Her hand trembled as her fingers brushed against the coarse fabric.
Did a dead
person’s hand still tremble?
Steeling
herself, she yanked off the hood in one swift motion.
“John!”
Priscilla woke
in terror, screaming her husband’s name. Thrashing out, she reached across the
bed, seeking the warmth and comfort of his body. For a moment, poised
precariously between a dream and reality, she felt her husband beside her,
solid and familiar. She could even smell the oatmeal soap that had stubbornly
clung to the rough but steady hands of a master carpenter.
She squeezed her
eyes shut and crushed a pillow to her chest, clinging to the memory and scent
of him. But the tighter she clung, the looser her hold became, and his memory
slipped from her grasp as did the last vestiges of her dream.
She opened her
eyes, alone in the bed. A profound sorrow clutched at her heart, twisting and
turning until she could bear no more.
The Seer
The MacInness Legacy
Book II
Sandy Moffett
Genre: Historical Paranormal Romance
Publisher: True Airspeed Press, LLC
Date of Publication: July 6, 2014
ASIN: B00LLNFLAE
Number of pages: 300
Cover Artist: Su Kopil
Book Description:
The Seer is the second book in The MacInness Legacy Series, written by award-winning sisters Sandy and Julie Moffett. The story garnered Sandy a Lories Award for Best New Paranormal Author.
After an innocent man accused of witchcraft hangs in 1692 Salem, his death reignites a deadly feud between the descendants of two ancient Scottish clans—MacGow and MacInness. The peaceful MacInness descendants are left tragically cursed. Any man who weds a MacInness is now destined to an early death. The MacInnesses have one century to lift the curse and reflect it back upon Clan MacGow. One hundred years later, triplet sisters separated in childhood are being drawn back to Salem. They have three months to refine their unearthly talents of fire, sight, and healing, and break the deadly curse…or lose the men they love forever.
Alexandra Gables needs no man to run her life. Educated, witty, and wealthy, she is the only child in a family with a long line of prominent scientists. Despite her gender, Alexandra intends to continue that heritage and let no man stand in her way. But her father, anxious for grandchildren, teams up with an old friend whose equally stubborn and brilliant son, Pierce Williams, has no time for a frivolous woman to slow down his life. When Alexandra is sent to Salem to help the elder Williams catalogue and sketch a scientific collection for the Royal Society of London, she has no idea that she is being dangled as marriage material for Pierce. Both are firmly determined to ignore each other, but Alexandra is drawn to Pierce’s quick wit, irresistible charm, and enviable engineering skill. However, close encounters with Pierce trigger an increase in the strange prophetic visions she has had all her life––visions that have no scientific basis or explanation. When a vision reveals the destruction of a ship Pierce designed, built, and will sail on, she must risk a deepening love for Pierce against the loss of his life and all her future dreams.
Book Trailer: http://animoto.com/play/nG1PGQw35U1KOP6GdB2DHg
Excerpt
The Seer:
Salem,
Massachusetts, May 1792
“’Tis a bleak
morn to be enterin’ this witchin’ town,” a grizzled sailor mumbled as he
assisted a young woman into the unsteady longboat.
Cold, sticky air
ripe with rolling fog enveloped the seas abeam Salem, a place haunted by its
persecution of witches nearly one hundred years ago. Though infamous in
history, the thriving seaport now drew the educated and adventurous. Alexandra
Gables, debarking the schooner Defiant, was no exception.
“Surely you do
not believe in such endowed humans as witches,” Alexandra countered, mildly
amused that people still maintained such unenlightened beliefs. “Even Salem has
professed shame for the hangings. I do recollect they offered legal apologies
and restitution to families of the victims.”
The sailor’s
sun-hardened face, days distant from the blade of a good razor, crinkled in
doubt. “Me mariner ears hear many a tale, ma’am. But no doubtin’ by me, every
tale entwines a true fact. There be witches in Salem.”
She nodded
politely and glanced up at the Defiant, searching for signs of her tiny
companion. Crimson spears of sunrise cast a reddish glow on the fog-draped
schooner. A truly enchanting morning, if she allowed such a persuasion. But
enchanted was not the word she chose.
The ocean rolled
gently beneath her feet inducing flutters in an already tentative stomach. She
stepped toward the stern of the longboat thankful that the trip to shore was a
brief one. She settled near the coxswain and tucked the fullness of her cotton
skirt and petticoat discreetly onto her lap. Above, a covered birdcage attached
to a rope descended slowly from the schooner deck. An oarsman handed over the
cage and placed it beside her on the seat plank.
“Wha’ creature
ye ha’ in there, Mistress Gables?” the Scottish born sailor asked, puzzled by
the cage. “It no’ moves like a bird.”
“You are most
clever, sir. ’Tis not a bird, but a creature I call Newton. He resembles the
fabled companion Black Sam used to keep.”
The man’s eyes
widened at the pirate’s name as he took a seat facing her and set his oar. She
easily noted his desire to hear more. “I see you are familiar with Black Sam’s
exploits.”
The deep-voiced
coxswain behind her bellowed, “Aye, Mistress. Any sailor worth ’is salt has
heard of ’im and ’is stormy demise.”
He switched his
attention to squeezing in the last of the passengers and casting off from the
schooner. Not until the oars dipped cleanly into Salem Harbor and he had
steered clear of the ship, did he lean toward Alexandra again. “I ne’er heard
sailors speak of any animal on ’is ship.”
“Not just any
animal, but a small, rugged, resourceful creature,” she replied. “Tales say
’tis why Black Sam kept him. He discovered the creature when filling water
casks at anchorage in Hispaniola. Some claim the two locked stares not sure who
appeared more fearsome.”
The coxswain and
oarsman stared with curiosity at the covered cage. As though in response,
Newton shifted in his cage, banging his tail against the thin metal. The men
jumped, and Alexandra fought to hide her amusement. With dramatic hesitation,
she lifted ever so slightly the edge of Newton’s cover.
Orange-brown
eyes set in a rough jumble of green scales glared out at the men. Like a true
thespian, Newton inflated his scaled beard to display a row of short spikes.
The men gasped and she lowered the cover.
“That be a
devil’s creature,” the oarsman puffed and glanced suspiciously at her fiery
hair she had properly tucked beneath a hat.
“’Tis simply a
reptile,” she countered. “A French philosopher traveling from Cap-Haïtien gave
this specimen to my father.”
A sudden shift
in temperature brought the discussion to a halt. A quiet foreboding made its
presence known in the foggy shroud. Every rhythmic slap of the oars into the
harbor brought the longboat closer to shore and deepened her building unease.
She knew of no possible reason for these dark feelings. Past scientific forays
with her father into the western woods of New York and the wilds of Nova Scotia
had offered far more danger than this trip to Salem.
Strange, but
some internal voice foretold that the danger didn’t arise from bears, snakes,
or Indians; it emanated from someplace far less obvious, from the very essence
of Salem—or even from her own soul.
The Healer
The MacInness Legacy
Book III
Julie Moffett
Genre: Historical Paranormal Romance
Publisher: True Airspeed Press, LLC
Date of Publication: July 14, 2014
ASIN: B00LU2DYAU
Number of pages: 305
Cover Artist: Su Kopil
Book Description:
From best selling, award winning author Julie Moffett comes the third book in a historical paranormal romance series about sister witches written with her sister, Sandy Moffett. This book was nominated for a PRISM and a HOLT.
One hundred years after the witch trials in 1792 Salem Massachusetts:
Gillian is the daughter of a well-known Salem physician Zachariah Saunders and his wife, Mary. Years ago Gillian’s father was accused of improper medical behavior, and the family was ostracized to the nearby town of Gloucester. There Gillian became her father’s apprentice, learning all she could about medicine, botany and the healing arts. She was frightened, but intrigued, when she discovered she had an unusual ability to heal small, wounded animals by simply touching them. Her strange ability is put to the test when a young and handsome doctor is dragged to her door near death. Gillian makes him well again, but in the process falls hopelessly in love. It is this love that returns her to Salem and brings her face to face with the mother and sisters she never knew existed. Now she must overcome her past and help her newfound family work to lift a century-old curse before it destroys the men they love.
Book Trailer: http://animoto.com/play/nG1PGQw35U1KOP6GdB2DHg
Excerpt
The Healer:
Salem,
Massachusetts
October 1792
The sea lured
Spencer Reeves like a siren calling to her lover.
He smiled in
response as his small vessel, a skiff named the Rosemary, swept atop the glossy
waves, leaving Salem Harbor behind. A strong, whipping breeze blew across the
water, carrying the faint scents of sea salt and cod while a brilliant orange
sky encompassed the New England coast in a spectacular sunset. He took a deep
breath of air, lifting his face to the wind and embracing the stinging October
chill.
“There’s nothing
like a sail on a brisk autumn eve, is there, Spence?”
Spencer turned
to his friend Charles Harrington, who sat lounging back against the gunwale, his
legs stretched out in front of him. “Nothing. It’s the perfect end to an
otherwise long day. All too soon enough we’ll have to dock the skiff for the
winter. But not yet.”
Grinning,
Charles pulled a small flask out of his breast pocket, popped it open, and took
a long drink. He handed it to Jonathan Duttridge, the third member of their
small crew, who took a deep pull and passed it to Spencer.
Spencer
declined. “No. Someone has to remain in full control of his faculties in order
to sail us back home and not on into Gloucester.”
Charles frowned.
“Always the proper physician. Must you be incessantly wed to your profession?”
“Only when I
sail…and, of course, when I perform surgery instead of leaving it to an
incompetent barber. I have no intention of going as far as Gloucester this
eve.”
Jonathan snorted
in disapproval. “What would be wrong with a trip to Gloucester? I met a
pleasant young lady there once.”
“Pleasant,
indeed.” Charles chortled. “Need I remind you, we were at a house of ill
repute? I’m sure she’ll remember to be pleasant if you come calling again with
coin.”
Jonathan pursed
his lips and Charles snatched the flask from him, taking another swallow. “Come
on, Spence, if you refuse to partake in the spirits, then let’s see how fast
this lady can go.”
Rising to the
challenge, Spencer adjusted the sail and angled it into the wind. The skiff
picked up speed, gliding deftly across the water.
As Salem became
a dot on the horizon, Spencer felt the tension of the day released. He also had
a long, though productive day. His father had personally commended him on the
excellent sutures he had made on the tiny hand of three-year old Mary Brewer.
He had correctly diagnosed and treated old Sam Forsythe for a mild case of
gout. His own confidence as a physician was growing daily, as was the trust of
the patients he treated while apprenticing with his father. But as his patient
list and the number of people depending on him grew, Spencer found that he
recently spent more time worrying about his work and less time visiting with
friends and reinvigorating his body and mind. Today he had decided to ignore
those needs no more. He’d sought out his friends, and now they were all reaping
the rewards of a revitalizing sail.
They chatted
companionably until dusk deepened. Spencer slowed the skiff and had Charles lit
the small lantern that sat wedged between two wooden planks at the front of the
bow. The light cast ghostly shadows over the men.
“Take a look at
that, would you?” Jonathan pointed toward land, where a few scattered lights
blinked along the shoreline.
“It looks like a
cottage.” Charles came to stand beside Jonathan. “How far are we from
Gloucester?”
“A good distance
yet.” Spencer squinted. “It’s rather peculiar, but the structure seems to be
neither in Salem or in Gloucester, but somewhere in between.”
“How odd,”
Jonathan murmured. “I didn’t know anyone lived out this far.”
“That’s because
it doesn’t house human inhabitants.” Charles took a swig and laughed.
Jonathan
sniggered. “Then what exactly does the cottage house?”
Charles waved
his arm in a grand gesture, and spoke in an eerie dramatic voice. “A small, but
malevolent coven of witches. Beautiful, alluring witches, but evil just the
same. Spence, what do you think?”
Spencer watched
the dim lights wink and glow in a fascinating pattern. Someone had placed
candles in the windows, as if beckoning to strangers. A chill skittered up his
spine, raising the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck.
“Frankly, I
think we should beach Charles here. Let him visit the cottage. Maybe the
witches can cure him of his unremitting obsession with women.”
“Ha! No thank
you, Spence. That’s one obsession I prefer not to be cured of, thank you very
much. I rather think we should leave you there, Spence, so you can have a life
outside your respectable but utterly tedious practice.”
Spencer tipped
his head. “Tedious or not, I assure you, my life is quite full. Besides, am I
not partaking of some leisurely activity at this very moment? Although some
might question if being with you two truly counts as leisure.”
“Oh, it’s
leisure all right.” Charles slid backward, his hip thudding against the hull as
the skiff picked up speed from a sudden gust of wind. “Is not our company much
sought after in Salem? Are we not fortunate to have a lady such as the Rosemary
at our disposal?”
Spencer grinned.
“On the last point I shall not disagree.”
“Speaking of
ladies, Charles.” Jonathan swiped the flask from Charles’ grasp. “What’s this I
hear about you being caught with your hands up Anna Wendall’s skirts?”
“It was an
accident, I swear.” Charles lifted his hands innocently. “We were taking a
stroll when she tripped and toppled into my arms. Her considerable weight
caught me off-balance and we both fell to the ground. In my haste to help her
up, I became entangled in her skirts. It’s not my fault her derrière was
exposed to several passersby. I’ve been told it was quite a spectacle.”
“Her derrière,
or your hands extracting themselves from her considerable flesh?” Spencer asked
dryly.
“Very amusing.”
Charles pressed his hand in an exaggerated fashion against his chest. “You
wound me by disparaging my honorable intentions toward Mistress Wendall.”
Jonathan
chuckled. “That’s a damn fine accounting of what happened, Charles, and I’d
stand by it, if I were you. Especially when word of the unfortunate incident
reaches her father. After all, most of Salem knows that you are constantly on
the lookout for dastardly ways to take a quick peek beneath the skirts of any
young lady.”
They all laughed
and further debated the finer points of Anna Wendall’s derrière until an abrupt
gust of wind caused the boat to lurch to one side. Concerned with the boom
swinging, Spencer yelled, “Watch your heads.
“A storm seems
to be brewing.” The wind whipped against the sail. “Where in the hell did it
come from? We’d better head back to Salem.” He worked the tiller and sail as
the vessel began to roll drunkenly from side to side.
“Would it not be
more prudent to go on to Gloucester?” Charles yelled over the howl of the wind.
“If my
calculations are correct, we are still about halfway between each town.”
Spencer slid two steps to his left. “The storm seems to be coming out of the
north from Gloucester. If we head back for Salem, perhaps we can outrun it.”
A jagged flash
of lightning lit up the sky, leaving a trail of crackling sparks in its wake.
Thunder boomed around them as the sky opened up and rain poured down in untamed
fury. His view of the shore and horizon rapidly diminished.
Spencer clung to
the wood rail, his skin tingling, his breath coming in shallow, fast gasps. “We
have to put her into the waves or she’ll capsize. Help me get her hard aport.”
Charles and
Jonathan scrambled to aid him, but a wave crashed into the craft, slamming
Charles’ head into the boom. He nearly slid overboard, but Spencer dragged him
back by the collar of his shirt and dumped him on the deck. Charles sat up,
rubbing his skull. Thunder boomed again, this time so violently that even the
skiff shuddered.
“Hell and
damnation!”
They brought
down the sail and Spencer fought with the tiller. His fingers slipped on the
wood, and he narrowed his eyes against the onslaught of blinding rain. Spencer
knew they were in imminent danger of capsizing.
Jonathan
screamed. “Look out!”
Spencer glanced
over his shoulder, his eyes widening at the enormous wall of water coming
toward them. The wave slammed into them, crushing the boat like a toy. The
skiff disintegrated beneath his feet, and the water reached up and yanked him
under the white foam.
With barely a
gulp of air in his lungs, Spencer flailed about, kicking hard against the
undertow that threatened to drag him to his death. His right leg tangled in a
rope, twisting his ankle and slamming it against something hard. Hot pain shot
up from his foot along the right side of his body. In a moment of startling
clarity, Spencer realized he was on the brink of death.
His last thought
before blackness enveloped him was not one of despair, but one of hope that at
least his friends would make it to safety.
Bewitching
Salem’s Academy for Ladies
Sandy Moffett
Genre: Historical paranormal romance
Publisher: True Airspeed Press, LLC
Date of Publication: August 5, 2014
ASIN: B00MGYX1GS
Number of pages: 108
Cover Artist: Su Kopil
Book Description:
Multi-award winning author Sandy Moffett brings to life historical Salem in this first novella of a series.
The Salem witch trials may be a hundred years past, but Constance Sedgewick and her two aunts run Salem’s Academy for Young Ladies, where any rumor of strange occurrences could ruin their excellent reputation. So when pictures start falling off walls, dishware unexplainably cracks, and odd things start to happen, Constance discovers her strong, arcane powers are taking on a life of their own. When her aunts share the cause, Constance isn’t sure she can withstand the cure.
Book Trailer: http://animoto.com/play/nG1PGQw35U1KOP6GdB2DHg
Excerpt
Bewitching:
Salem,
Massachusetts 1790
Constance
Sedgewick stood in the front hall of Salem’s Academy for Young Ladies
considering the repercussions if she summarily changed Phoebe’s mother into a
mute.
“Phoebe has no
need for learning numbers,” the woman huffed. “Such foolish knowledge wastes
her precious time.”
Constance
crossed her arms. “On the contrary, I have not found it so.”
“Humph, why, you
haven’t even been able to secure a husband.”
A fiery ire rose
from within and might well have exploded forth had a crashing thud not sounded
down the hall. Constance whirled to see the damaged portrait of her father
lying askew on the floor. The air sizzled with magic. Aunt Gwendolyn, blessed
with frequently erratic spells, must have overheard the unkind comment.
Constance, doing
her best to control her true emotions, drew a long breath and turned back to
Phoebe’s mother.
“I do recall
your family operates the English Goods store. Have you ever considered, heaven
forbid, what would happen if your husband should become incapacitated? Who
would calculate the shop finances?”
The woman
straightened proudly. “My son will run the business someday.”
“Your son is
barely nine years of age. What if this sad event happened tomorrow?”
“How dare you
suggest such a thing.”
Constance gently
put a hand on the woman’s arm and guided her to the front door. “Think of
Phoebe’s knowledge as insurance in times of difficulty. Do you wish a sharper
to steal your business blind because you lack knowledge of numbers?”
The woman,
apparently recognizing the attempt to remove her from the manor house, firmly
planted herself across the threshold. “I see the merit in your point, but she
must be prepared for society and a proper husband. Attention is required in
social skills, music, and the arts. Could you not allow her to concentrate more
on those talents?”
“We treat all
our young ladies equally. And I do believe my aunts do an admirable job of
teaching the arts and personal etiquette. We produce well-rounded young ladies
here. But if you think Phoebe will be better served at another establishment, I
will gladly assist with her transfer.”
Phoebe’s mother
grew pale. “But there are no others in town with your reputation.”
“Then, we shall
be pleased to keep her as a student. You must understand, though, we are quite
set in giving our young ladies a thorough education.”
Constance
stepped away from the woman and took hold of the sturdy wooden door. While
smiling pleasantly, she slowly moved her hand, hidden behind the door, in a
shooing motion.
“I must get back
to my students. If you have any further concerns, feel free to return after
lessons today.” She swung the door shut as Phoebe’s mother stood with a
surprised and puzzled expression.
The poor woman
probably wondered how she had moved the few feet from the threshold onto the
porch. Constance giggled at the image. Oh, the small pleasures of witchcraft.
On occasion it posed a great burden, but other times proved a blessing.
About Julie Moffett:
Julie Moffett is the award-winning author of fourteen published novels in the genres of historical, paranormal fantasy, and time travel romances, and action/adventure mysteries.
She grew up as a military brat (Air Force) and has traveled extensively. Her more exciting exploits include attending Kubasaki High School in Okinawa, Japan, backpacking around Europe and Scandinavia for several months, a year-long college graduate study in Warsaw, Poland and a wonderful trip to Scotland and Ireland where she fell in love with castles, kilts and brogues.
Julie has a B.A. in Political Science and Russian Language from Colorado College, a M.A. in International Affairs from George Washington University in Washington, D.C., and is nearly finished with her M.Ed from Liberty University in Virginia. Able to speak Russian and Polish, she worked as a journalist for the international radio station, Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty in Washington, D.C. for eleven years, publishing hundreds of articles. She now works as a proposal writer and research advisor for a defense contractor in the Washington, D.C. area.
Julie is a single mom with two sons, who keep her quite busy. She belongs to Romance Writers of America and Washington Romance Writers where she served six years on the organization’s Board of Directors. She was also the Market News Columnist and Feature’s Editor for the organization’s monthly newsletter, Update, for eleven years.
Website: www.juliemoffett.com
Twitter: @JMoffettAuthor
Instagram: http://instagram.com/julie_moffett
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/JMoffettAuthor/
About Sandy Moffett:
I write fast-paced stories full of adventure, unique characters, mystery and suspense. I've published two novels with Kensington Publishing Corporation and have placed and won writing contests as both a published and unpublished author (ex. National Reader’s Choice finalist (published), RWA Golden Heart (finalist). I am a member of Mystery Writers of America and several national and local writing organizations.
I'm a hydrogeologist by training with an M.S. in geological sciences and have taken additional engineering graduate coursework. I've taught at a university, worked on a project for the Air Force Flight Test Center, worked as a design engineer for a civil engineering firm, and have done computer modeling and field studies as a hydrogeologic consultant. I've studied in England and Italy, traveled to South Africa, Egypt, and South America, and still travel to places of interest all over the world so I can make my stories richer.
Website (writing as Sandy Parks): http://www.sandyparksauthor.com/
Twitter: @SMoffettAuthor
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1 comment:
Thanks for having us!! Hope you had a great Halloween! :)
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