Potions & Promotions (eBook)

A Paranormal Women's Fiction Series

Mercedes Bogomila Iljaž (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
358 Seiten
Lofty Dreams Publications (Verlag)
978-0-00-111345-9 (ISBN)

Infos

In her little corner of the world, Thalia Nightshade has built a thriving apothecary blending ancient herbal wisdom with subtle enchantments. But when a ruthless corporate wellness empire invades, peddling synthetic supplements that drain the community's vital energy, Thalia's peaceful life unravels. As loyal customers succumb to addictive elixirs and the town's magical ley lines falter, Thalia uncovers a sinister plot to harvest natural power for profit.

Teaming up with her sharp-witted friend Zephyra, a newcomer attuned to energy flows, and Marisol, a baker whose treats weave emotional healing, Thalia forms an unlikely alliance of midlife women warriors. Together, they harness traditional spells, intuitive baking, and clever research to expose the corporation's dark secrets and reclaim their home's essence.

This captivating tale of friendship, empowerment, and rebellion against greed celebrates women embracing their inner magic in the face of modern threats. Perfect for fans of Practical Magic and Garden Spells, this novel delivers cozy urban fantasy with heart, humor, and a dash of mystical intrigue. Discover how ordinary heroines wield extraordinary power to protect what matters most-community, authenticity, and the spark of true vitality.

Textauszug

Chapter 1

The morning light filtered through the wavy glass of Nightshade Apothecary's front windows, casting amber patterns across bundles of dried lavender suspended from the exposed ceiling beams. Thalia Nightshade stood at her worn oak preparation table, grinding dried rosemary with practiced precision in her grandmother's marble mortar. The rhythmic motion had become meditation over the years—circular, steady, deliberate.

She added three drops of carrier oil, whispering words that might have been mistaken for humming if anyone had been close enough to hear. The rosemary released its sharp, resinous scent with unusual intensity, the oil taking on a faint shimmer that would fade before the bottle reached a customer's hands.

"Clarity and focus, intention clear," she murmured, her voice barely audible above the soft jazz playing from the vintage radio near the register. "Memory sharp, perception near."

The mixture glowed for three heartbeats—just long enough for Thalia to transfer it into a small amber bottle with steady hands. She labeled it "Focus Enhancement Tincture" in her careful script, adding the standard disclaimer about consulting healthcare professionals. Twenty years of practice had taught her exactly how much magic she could infuse without drawing attention, how to make her enchanted remedies feel just effective enough to build loyalty without raising questions.

Corvus, her raven familiar, shifted on his perch near the front window, his intelligent black eyes tracking a potential customer walking past outside. The bird had excellent timing—he'd alerted her to approaching browsers countless times over the years, giving her those crucial seconds to transition from witch to herbalist, from practitioner to proprietor.

"Not yet," Thalia told him quietly, corking the tincture bottle. "Give me two more minutes."

The apothecary smelled of earth and intention this morning—the wild sage she'd harvested last month, the chamomile drying in paper bags behind the counter, the faint vanilla notes from the beeswax candles she made during the slower winter months. She'd designed the space to feel like stepping into a nineteenth-century apothecary, all dark wood and glass containers, brass fixtures and botanical prints in simple frames. The aesthetic wasn't just marketing—it helped customers believe in the products, which meant they worked better even when the magic was minimal.

Her phone buzzed against the preparation table. Thalia glanced at the screen—a reminder about the business association meeting next Tuesday. She'd been on the Main Street Merchants Committee for eight years now, long enough to have earned a reputation as the quiet one who showed up, did the work, and never caused drama. Exactly the profile she preferred.

She wiped her hands on her canvas apron, checking her reflection in the antique mirror near the stockroom door. Forty-five looked back at her—the grey strands she'd stopped bothering to hide threaded through dark hair pulled into a practical bun, the fine lines at her eyes from two decades of squinting at botanical texts, the posture of someone comfortable in her own space. She'd stopped wearing makeup except for the occasional swipe of lip balm years ago, had stopped caring whether anyone found her conventionally attractive somewhere around her thirty-eighth birthday. The freedom had been profound.

Corvus clicked his beak twice—their signal for an approaching customer.

Thalia quickly tucked the freshly made tincture onto the shelf behind the counter, then moved to adjust the display of herbal sleep aids near the window. By the time the door chimed, she was the picture of a busy small business owner arranging inventory, not a witch who'd just been speaking intention into plant medicine.

…

Margaret Chen pushed through the door at nine-forty-three, right on schedule. The retired librarian visited every other Thursday like clockwork, usually seeking something for the headaches that had plagued her since her late forties. Thalia had been treating her for three years now—a combination of feverfew and white willow bark that actually worked, supplemented with the gentlest possible magic to ease the tension Margaret carried in her jaw.

"Good morning," Thalia said, straightening from the display. "The usual?"

"If you have time." Margaret set her canvas tote bag on the counter with a sigh. "It's been one of those weeks. The historical society is trying to organize the fall fundraiser, and you know how Helen gets when she's in charge of anything."

Thalia did know. Helen Bradshaw could turn a simple bake sale into an organizational nightmare that required three subcommittees and a mission statement. She moved behind the counter, pulling out the glass jar that held her headache blend—feverfew, white willow bark, ginger root, and a touch of peppermint for palatability.

"How long since your last batch?" she asked, measuring the dried herbs into a small cotton bag with the ease of long practice.

"Almost three weeks. I've been rationing them, trying to see if the headaches were really as frequent as I thought." Margaret leaned against the counter, her voice dropping to a more confidential tone. "They are. I don't know what you put in these, but they work better than anything my doctor prescribed."

"It's all natural," Thalia said truthfully, sealing the bag with a bit of twine. "Your body just responds well to the feverfew. Some people do." She didn't mention the whisper of ease and release she'd added to the blend, the subtle encouragement for Margaret's muscles to soften, her blood vessels to calm. Nothing dramatic—just enough to help her body do what it wanted to do anyway.

She rang up the purchase—twelve dollars for enough tea to last two weeks. Criminally underpriced compared to what a pharmaceutical company would charge, but Thalia had never been in this business to get rich. The apothecary sustained itself, paid her modest bills, and allowed her to practice her craft in peace. That was enough.

"How's Jasper settling in?" she asked, handing over the small bag.

Margaret's face softened. Her grandson had moved to Mystic Grove last month, fresh out of college and struggling with the transition to full-time work. "Better, I think. He's still adjusting to the routine, but he's starting to make friends. Your tea helped with the sleep issues—he's been using that lavender blend you made him."

"Good." Thalia smiled. "Tell him to come in if he needs a refill. And tell him the first few months are always the hardest. It gets easier when you stop trying to prove yourself and just do the work."

"That's what I said, but it sounds different coming from someone closer to his age." Margaret paused, then added with careful casualness, "Did you hear about the new store opening across the street?"

There it was—the question Thalia had been expecting all week. News traveled fast in Mystic Grove's business district, especially when it involved the arrival of a chain store in their carefully maintained collection of local shops.

"I heard something," Thalia said, keeping her voice neutral. "Wellness Universal, right?"

"My daughter swears by their supplements." Margaret shifted her tote bag to her other shoulder. "She's been trying to get me to try them for months. Says they have something for everything—energy, focus, sleep, joint pain. I told her I'd rather support local businesses."

"I appreciate that." Thalia meant it, though the tight feeling in her chest suggested her appreciation was mixed with something closer to dread. "But you should use whatever works for you. I'm not precious about it."

She was absolutely precious about it, but admitting that would mean admitting how much her business meant to her, how much the apothecary had become her identity over the past fifteen years. Vulnerability had never been her strong suit.

Margaret left with promises to stop by in two weeks, and Thalia watched her walk past the empty storefront across the street—the space that had been vacant for eight months after the coffee shop closed, the space that apparently wouldn't be vacant much longer.

She'd researched Wellness Universal the night she heard they were moving in. National chain, over two hundred locations, aggressive expansion strategy targeting small towns with aging populations. Their marketing emphasized scientific testing, standardized formulations, and professional nutritional counseling. Everything Thalia's apothecary wasn't.

The rational part of her brain knew competition was inevitable. Mystic Grove had been growing steadily for the past decade—young families moving in for the good schools, retirees drawn by the charm and the lower cost of living compared to Hartford. The business district couldn't stay frozen in amber forever, much as some of the longtime merchants might wish it.

The irrational part, the part that whispered to herbs in the early morning and felt the energy moving through the ley lines beneath Main Street, wondered if Wellness Universal had chosen this location randomly. Wondered if they somehow knew what lay beneath the town's quaint facade, the old magic that had drawn settlers here in the first place, the confluence of natural energy that made her remedies work so well.

Corvus cawed softly from his perch, pulling Thalia from her spiraling thoughts. She shook her head, annoyed with herself. This was exactly the kind of paranoid thinking she'd trained herself to avoid. Not everything was about magic. Sometimes a corporation chose a location because the rent was good and the demographics were favorable. Sometimes threats were mundane.

Though in her experience, the mundane threats...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 28.11.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Fantasy / Science Fiction ► Fantasy
• ISBN-10: 0-00-111345-3 / 0001113453
• ISBN-13: 978-0-00-111345-9 / 9780001113459