Hello kitten! Guess what?
Starting in October, my Cozy Corner private membership opens for signups! Witchy Wednesdays kicks it off, and if you're a member, you'll get access to episodes from my new Kittens of Haunted Libraries series! (These stories are not available anywhere else!)
The Book and Boo will introduce you to Catniss Inglenook and the Historical Ingelnook Library of Curiousities and Fine Literature that she's inherited from her witchy aunt Eliza.
Isn't that kitty just adorable? There is a set of these cuties in the book (you'll learn their names in Episode 2 and get to pick which one is on the cover!) along with their mother, Nimbus, and they all help Cat uncover the truths about the library and its mysteries.
You don't have to go to another platform to get these weekly FREE short stories and exclusive bonuses from me. Join the cozy corner monthly membership and get episodes of this series, as well as my Willowbrook stories, early access to new books, and more when you choose your tier:
https://www.nyxhalliwell.com/cozy-corner-membership
Meanwhile, thank you for your support whether you buy my books at retailers or enjoy my Cozy Corner monthly subscription membership.
Keep reading for a sneak peek at The Book & Boo: Episode One!
Nyx 💜📚🐾
As I roll into the sleepy town of Briarwood, North Carolina, the quaint cobblestone streets and ivy-clad cottages feel like something out of a fairy tale—if the fairy tale included buckets of rain and a sky angrier than a wet cat.
The windshield wipers are in a frenzied battle against the deluge as my ten-year-old VW Bug chugs up to the grand iron gates at the bottom of Inglenook Hill. Brick pillars stand like silent sentinels, guarding the mansion at the top—my inheritance from my Aunt Eliza's will. With a sputtering cough that signals defeat, my car gives up the ghost, leaving me stranded in the storm.
“Great,” I mutter, resting my forehead on the worn steering wheel. The rhythmic drumming of rain is the only reply. “Welcome home, Cat.”
Home. A funny word for a place shrouded in so much mystery, it might as well be Brigadoon. My parents bolted from this town when I was a seven and never looked back. Through the years, whenever I asked about Briarwood and Aunt Eliza, they'd exchange nervous glances before distracting me with a trip to the beach or a new doll. Being an avid reader as I grew, I figured out early on that my family had a secret. One that was tied to my aunt and this town.
A soft light illuminates the plaque on one of the pillars, designating the official name as the Historical Inglenook Library of Curiosities and Fine Literature. It doesn’t mention that my aunt also lived here her whole life. What secrets does it hold?
The Victorian architecture is barely visible through the curtain of rain. I lower my voice to my true crime narrator tone. “A family secret. An eccentric aunt. What will Catniss Inglenook discover when she returns to her hometown and the haunted library her aunt left behind?”
A chill dances down my spine—not from the cold, but from the unknown. Great, I’ve scared myself.
If the conversations I overheard growing up about Eliza are true, she was a witch. Not in the strictest sense of the word, but in some odd, eccentric way I never quite understood. Not even the witches I read about in the books I read by the bagfuls quite matched what I knew about my mysterious aunt.
Just because she collected cat figurines and dressed in head-to-toe black does not make her a witch. I force a chuckle, shaking off the creepy feeling crawling up the back of my neck.
I press the gas pedal a few times and try the ignition. The engine makes a grinding-whirring noise before it dies again. “Come on, sugar pie. Start for Mama, please?”
The Bug gives another disgusted cough that sounds like its last breath.
“I know.” I pat the dashboard, and it causes the lights to flicker. “It was a long trek. You deserve some rest.” I only wish Millie had waited until we got all the way up the drive before she gave up the ghost.
Yes, I've named my car. Millicent was a sassy girl in her youth, and she’s still a bit rambunctious in her old age, but this trip across the country from California may have been her final hurrah.
Sighing, I kill the lights, grab my trusty carpet bag from the passenger seat, and pocket my keys. “I'll get you to a garage first thing tomorrow for a tuneup,” I promise. “You’ll feel good as new.”
If there's one thing I have plenty of, it's reckless optimism. I pat her dash again, debating… Should I stay put and hope the storm lets up or should I brave the wet path to the house?
Rain hammers on the car roof like an impatient and unwelcome guest at the front door. The darkness outside presses against the windows, and I can barely make out the path that snakes up to the veranda. I unearth my phone from the bag to check my weather app, but the screen is as black as the night—dead and utterly useless. I forgot to recharge it.
My stomach growls, a low rumble that protests the lack of a decent meal since that gas station sandwich at noon. It settles my debate. “Food over comfort,” I declare. I'm not sure what waits for me up there, but I’m willing to bet there's at least a can of soup somewhere.
I grab the bag, tuck my unruly curls under a sweater that I hastily pull over my head, and open the door. Wind whips around me, greeting me with icy fingers as I step into nature's fury.
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