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Hayle Coven Novels

I’m an international, multiple award-winning author with a passion for the voices in my head. As a singer, songwriter, independent filmmaker and improv teacher and performer, my life has always been about creating and sharing what I create with others. Now that my dream to write for a living is a reality, with over a hundred titles in happy publication and no end in sight, I live in beautiful Prince Edward Island, Canada, with my giant cats, pug overlord and overlady and my Gypsy Vanner gelding, Fynn. ***WORLD'S BEST STORY2014*** Her mom's a witch. Her dad's a demon. And she just wants to be ordinary. I batted at the curl of smoke drifting off the tip of my candle and tried not to sneeze. My heavy velvet cloak fell in oppressive, suffocating folds in the closed space of the ceremony chamber, the cowl trapping the annoying bits of puff I missed. I hated the way my eyes burned and teared, an almost constant distraction. Not that I didn't welcome the distraction, to be honest. Anything to take my mind from what went on around me. Being part of a demon raising is way less exciting than it sounds. Sydlynn Hayle's teen life couldn't be more complicated. Trying to please her coven is all a fantasy while the adventure of starting over in a new town and fending off a bully cheerleader who hates her are just the beginning of her troubles. What to do when delicious football hero Brad Peters--boyfriend of her cheer nemesis--shows interest? If only the darkly yummy witch, Quaid Moromond, didn't make it so difficult for her to focus on fitting in with the normal kids despite her paranormal, witchcraft laced home life. Add to that her crazy grandmother's constant escapes driving her family to the brink and Syd's between a rock and a coven site. Forced to take on power she doesn't want to protect a coven who blames her for everything, only she can save her family's magic. If her family's distrust doesn't destroy her first.

Patti Larsen · Urbain
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803 Chs

Chapter 51: Bestie Saturday Night

Funny how an ordinary basement can feel like a tomb. I emerged with a huge sigh from my forced confinement into the warmth of the last of the sunlight flooding the kitchen on the other side of the door. I actually paused for a moment to enjoy it, but not long enough for my mother to catch up, just in case.

I heard her first footfall on the step below as someone knocked on the kitchen door. Relieved to have another warm body to use for a buffer against her, I rushed to answer it just as Mom reached the top of the stairs.

Alison Morgan, my best friend and rescuer, grinned at me from the doorstep, her normally long, flowing blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, contact-tinted blue eyes sparkling. I can only imagine my expression since Alison laughed at me without me saying a word.

Goofy, best bet. And desperate, I imagine.

She walked in without asking, brushing past me to greet my mother. I silently prayed she would just say 'hi' and let it go.