An Ancient Witch's Guide to Modern Dating - Softcover

Edward, Cecilia

 
9781668087145: An Ancient Witch's Guide to Modern Dating
Softcover
ISBN 10: 1668087146 ISBN 13: 9781668087145
Verlag: S&S/Saga Press, 2025

Inhaltsangabe

An ancient witch explores the thrills—and perils—of online dating with hilarity and heart in a charming rom-com perfect for fans of cozy fantasy and witchy romance.

Meet Thorn Scarhart, a thirty-nine-year-old witch who’s having trouble finding love in the 17th century. Despite the local matchmaker’s efforts and Thorn’s arsenal of powerful love potions, she has yet to fall in love. After the disappearance of her sister and the loss of her mother, Thorn was too caught up in…well, life, to focus on dating. Now, she fears she may have missed her chance.

But, when one of her potion brews backfires spectacularly, Thorn is hurled 350 years into the future, landing in a bustling city where her once-isolated cottage is now a historical museum. While this unexpected leap through time may seem daunting, modern life does have its perks: indoor plumbing, electric kettles, and the world of online dating. At thirty-nine, the odds may not be perfect, but at least they’re not impossible.

With the help of the museum’s new curator—and her charming veterinarian brother—Thorn dives headfirst into the 21st-century dating scene. And as she searches for romance, she might also find herself along the way.

An Ancient Witch’s Guide to Modern Dating is a delightful mix of humor, heart, and a sprinkle of magic. Cozy fantasy lovers will adore this enchanting rom-com, which is a must-read for fans of Sangu Mandanna’s The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches and Erin Sterling’s The Ex Hex.

Die Inhaltsangabe kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Cecilia Edward is the pen name of Remy Lai, a celebrated Australian children's author and illustrator who has won the Australian Prime Minister's Literary Award and the SCBWI Sid Fleischman Award for Humor. Continuing to publish in the middle grade, YA, and graphic novel spaces, she is thrilled to make her adult fiction debut with An Ancient Witch's Guide to Modern Dating. Remy is based in Brisbane; you can find her on Instagram @ceciliaedwardbooks.

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Chapter One ONE
“I love you,” the man would soon say. And he would be forever hers.

He was a blacksmith. Forty-three years old. Widowed. Grown children. Once forged the nails that held together a duke’s chariot. Very much a gentleman. A generous lover.

Those attributes were listed on the blacksmith’s résumé in the matchmaker’s Big Book of Marriageable Ladies and Gentlemen. How the matchmaker had discovered that last point was fodder for gossip among the womenfolk washing linen by the creek.

“This garden is breathtaking,” the blacksmith said as he strolled along a thicket blooming with little white flowers. He knew he was in trouble. He had always thought this town he had lived in all his life was too ordinary, but today, the shrubs had never been this lush, the clouds never this fluffy, and his steps never this peppy. He was in love. And the object of his affection was Thorn Scarhart.

The blacksmith and Thorn’s relationship almost never was. When Thorn had approached the matchmaker to help her find a husband, Madam Maude hemmed and hawed. There had not been a client quite as unsuitable as Thorn.

Among all of Thorn’s unsuitable attributes, the most glaring one was her age. It was as huge a problem as it was a number.

Most of the gentlemen in Madam Maude’s big book wanted progeny. While it was possible to feign a pregnancy through the use of pillows, it was something else to conjure up the illusion of an offspring who would have to grow in size and personality over many years.

The butcher’s wife had recently conceived at forty-six, but even though she was at such an age, she was also an old hand at procreation. This was her fifteenth child. Meanwhile, the closest experience Thorn had to childbearing was when there was an especially good harvest of turnips, and she was hardly the only one in town that spring who suffered from windy colic. Still, Thorn was younger than the butcher’s wife, even if not by much. It had seemed nothing short of miraculous when Madam Maude found a possible match for Thorn in the blacksmith.

And now the blacksmith and Thorn were on their first courtship meeting, and he was gazing at her with dreamy eyes. “But nothing is as breathtaking as you, Thorn Scarhart.”

He was looking at the woman of his dreams. She was carefree but wise and experienced. Her eyes were mesmerizingly enigmatic. He was so lost in them he didn’t even notice the horse cart pulling up outside the tavern behind him, nor the women deploying their handkerchiefs and the men deploying many expletives in response to the equine.

Not even the town crier’s honking voice succeeded in diverting the blacksmith’s attention.

“The carpenter will have a special sale on all wares at his stall at this Sunday’s market on August the sixth!” the town crier yelled. “Which brings me to my next announcement: The wedding of the carpenter to the second daughter of the butcher will be held at the end of this year of 1690.”

Rumor had it that the young carpenter was excellent with his hands and had bedded many beautiful women but proposed to none. That is, until the butcher’s second daughter led two goats to Madam Maude’s house to secure a courtship meeting with the carpenter. That was last month. Madam Maude was that good.

The renowned matchmaker’s skills seemed to be working for Thorn, too, because the blacksmith was now picking a tiny bouquet of little white flowers.

“Flowers for my lady.” He brought the bouquet close to his nose. As he inhaled deeply, his nose scrunched up, while his mouth curved down.

“My love”—Thorn emphasized the word—“let’s get away from prying eyes.” She swiftly jostled the blacksmith toward the creek, upwind of the tavern’s horse. Sometimes spells broke because of the smallest, most unexpected things. And it had been half a day since he’d drunk the potion.

Despite the blacksmith’s adoring gaze and honeyed words, he still had not declared his love. It looked like he needed more time, which she’d have to buy with another dose of potion. As he gently tucked the flowers behind her ear, she shoved her hand under her endless layers of petticoat and into her waist pocket. Her fingers dug past her handkerchief, dagger, hex ball, and the snake skull she’d scavenged this morning, until they wrapped around a small glass vial. Now there was the problem of how to administer the concoction.

Inviting the blacksmith to the tavern for a chance to slip it in his mead risked too many prying eyes. Devising a way to make the potion administrable by vapors might take years Thorn didn’t have to spare. Perhaps she could simply request he drink the vial as proof of his devotion. Gulping down a little mystery liquid wasn’t a big ask when people had dueled to death for love.

Preoccupied with schemes to dispense the next dose, Thorn stepped on her dress. She wasn’t used to such a long gown, nor its omnipresent threat of her spilling out at the top; nor its relentless suffocation around the middle; nor its incessant hoops, layers, and lace at the bottom. She tipped forward and would have kissed the mud if it wasn’t for her suitor catching her by the waist and spinning her around into his embrace. The cumbersome frock was one of Madam Maude’s terms for helping Thorn find a man. And now Thorn was looking into the eyes of a bachelor and feeling his warm breath on her cheeks. Perhaps there was a method to the matchmaker’s madness.

“You are beautiful,” the blacksmith said, brushing an errant hair off Thorn’s face. Those weren’t the three words he needed to say to seal the effects of the potion, but she tamped down her impatience. He was so enamored with her he did not hear the seamstress, not more than ten steps away, drop her basket of mulberries and her jaw.

The young lady picked up only her pace and stormed off, but not before shooting Thorn a glare that would have paired very well with a hex. Thorn didn’t blame her—she was understandably confused that one of the town’s eligible bachelors would choose an old hag over her pert twenty-three-year-old self. Thorn forgave the girl and even felt a little guilty—the only reason the seamstress was more single than herself was that Thorn had magic on her side.

Thorn’s mother used to say, “Magic is like cooking. There are many recipes for chicken soup: They might not all cure colds, but they all soothe colds.” And the True Love potion Thorn had fed the blacksmith was quite an effective one. Earlier this morning, she had visited the blacksmith’s workshop, where he was hard at work forging a sword. Making sure he had his sweaty back to her, she tipped the vial into his water canteen, which was conveniently hung by the open door. She then watched him chug it all down not long after. Once the last drop was finished, she stepped out into the doorway. He looked up, and their eyes locked for only a breath, but it was enough. His heart swelled with passion and affection for her. He abandoned work on the sword and began molding a copper teakettle. Madam Maude had told him that his potential lady loved tea. The kettle was ready in time for their courtship meeting.

All afternoon, Thorn carried the kettle the way other women carried embroidered...

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Verlag
S&S/Saga Press
Erscheinungsdatum
2025
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
1668087146
ISBN 13 
9781668087145
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
320
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Simon and Schuster Netherlands BV
info@simonandschuster.nl

Herculesplein 96
Utrecht
3584 AA
Niederlande

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