The Chronicles of Granny Witch (Book 1)
Paranormal Romance, Historical Fantasy, Magical Realism, Visionary Fiction
Date Published: December 27, 2020
Once upon a winter’s night, a lost cowboy finds himself in Purgatory Bend. Patrick Doolin is plagued by a wound that won’t heal, but winter is the season of miracles. As Patrick wanders through Wyoming, he meets Fawna Darling, the mysterious granny witch, who channels the folk magic of her ancestors.
With nowhere to go and a secret Patrick doesn’t yet understand, he seeks shelter with Fawna in the snowswept prairie. Forbidden to fall in love, they form an eternal bond in the dreamscape, but when the bluebirds sing of summer and threaten their empire of dreams, they are faced with an impossible decision. Will Patrick stay in the land of the living, or will he cross over the prairie?
Summer is the season of surprises, and Fawna’s childhood sweetheart, Dezi Ketchum, longs to win her heart too. When winter melts across the gold-slick prairie, Fawna searches for answers under the rose moon. Caught between fire and water and flesh and fantasy, she follows her heart and ventures into uncharted territory.
Praise for Snow Dust and Boneshine
"A warm and spellbinding tale...Soleil's writing flows like a stream, relaxing and exotic. Mixed with folk magic, simpler times and beliefs, this is a wonderful escape." ~ Tome Tender
"Soleil's writing is riveting...It's much more than a fantasy - it's a story of love and faith." ~ Literary Titan
"Curl up under your blanket, grab a cup of tea, and let yourself wander between magic and reality in Purgatory Bend...Snow Dust and Boneshine is one of the sweetest, selfless, heartbreaking but also heartwarming love stories I have ever read...The characters, the atmosphere, and the imagery are done so beautifully. Every description made me sink my teeth into the story just a little bit more." ~ Snez at Book Lifey & A Quintillion Reads Book Club
“Snow Dust and Boneshine was incredible…There’s romance, intrigue and lots of magic. It’s very well written, so much so, I could feel the cold and bitter wind as I read about it. The characters are beautifully written, and I could see it playing out as a movie as I read. I highly recommend picking this one up. 5 stars all the way.” ~ Angela Scavone, Author of Celebrity Status
“This story was magical and fascinating with an element of surprise. It was well-researched and beautifully thought out to bring us so many amazing details. If witches and love stories set in a small town with a sprinkle of magic interests you, I would urge you to read this.” ~ Kriti Dalmia at This Reader Girl
Excerpt 1
Prologue: Angel Creek
Wolf Moon, 1854
Patrick Doolin hid behind a sunbaked boulder, his bare ribs sticking to the sagebrush. He grabbed the wet, mushy hole in his belly, his heart pounding, his ears ringing raw. Around the bend, there were howling beasts in the canyon, sniffing his blood trail. Trapped in the crossfire, he closed his eyes and pretended it was all a bad dream. He cloaked himself in a cloud of dust and prayed for invisibility. Patrick didn’t know whether to beg for his life or submit to death’s sting, but instinctively, his body forced him to gasp for air.
From the moment he boarded the ship last summer, he regretted leaving Ireland. He missed the sheep-strewn pastures and the soggy sea cliffs. He missed the rolling fog and the taste of coddle by firelight. By the grace of God, Patrick survived the great hunger, and despite its brutal aftermath, he still yearned for his motherland, for fairy trees and cloud cover. It was better to be hungry at home than stuffed to the gills with strangers.
Patrick’s father suffered the most during the great hunger, so when a fever ravaged him last February, he was too weak to recover. Although Patrick bowed his head and prayed every morning, his father was skin and bones by Easter. Worst of all, his father’s spirit was troubled by Patrick’s black-hearted brother, Liam, so Patrick made a deathbed promise to his father. He vowed to look after Liam come hell or high water.
As soon as their father rattled his last breath, Liam set his sights on California. After the wake, the Doolin brothers boarded a ship to Philadelphia. From there, they made the long trek to Dakota territory. It took them three months to reach their uncle’s homestead, and by the time they arrived, old man winter was already there. The Doolin brothers agreed to work for their uncle until the following summer and then make their way to California, but after Christmas, Liam didn’t want to wait any longer.
Patrick knew they were late to the gold rush. Their uncle showed them the newspapers and implored them to stay in Dakota. He said it was treacherous to travel in the dead of winter, but there was no reasoning with Liam, so the Doolin brothers saddled up and battled the pelting ice and blowing snow. They slept under giant fir trees, their fingers and toes tingling with frostbite. They hadn’t been on the trail for long when Liam started a gunfight with a goliath of a cowboy, then disappeared into thin air.
Now, Patrick was all by himself, stranded somewhere between Dakota and Wyoming. Utterly disoriented, he clutched his belly in agony and stumbled through the wilderness. He meditated on the pine trees as they swirled into a blur of whistling green. Patrick saw trains and ships in the shadows. He saw the sea cliffs of Ireland in his dreams. When he couldn’t take another step, he collapsed on the edge of Angel Creek, his wounded body glinting red with sunburn, his sticky blood mingling with the cold stream.
As he faded in and out of mortality, he saw a young woman with hair as black as a raven. A pack of wolves surrounded her and swaddled her porcelain skin with their ashen fur. Patrick couldn’t get a good look at her face, but he caught a glimpse of her scarlet lips. She was nothing more than a stranger to him, but he took comfort in watching her dance through the shimmering snowfields. As he stood there in the frozen prairie, held captive by the bone-chilling wind, he felt strangely warm as though a hearth was glowing inside him.
The next morning, an old cowboy named Charlie was fishing for salmon when he came across Patrick’s body floating belly-up in the creek. Charlie took Patrick for dead, but as he got closer, he witnessed pulse and breath. Charlie rubbed his eyes in disbelief. He figured there was a reason this poor man was still alive, so he slung Patrick over his shoulder and lugged him for half a mile, dabbing his sweaty face with a red bandana. When he got back to his wagon, he plopped Patrick down next to the salmon and gave him a ride to Purgatory Bend.
Excerpt 2
Wolf Moon, 1854
At daybreak, Fawna drug her stiff body out of bed and wrapped her wolfskin around her. She rekindled the hearth and drank her morning cup of tea. She opened the front door and assessed the weather. The howling wind whipped through the prairie and stung her pale skin. The snow was swirling, thick and wild, with no end in sight. It was the bitterest kind of cold. Her entire body shook, her teeth chattering like a music box, her bones cracking like thin ice. The earth was laced with deadly beauty, and Fawna rubbed her brittle fingers together, worshipping the snow-capped domes in the distance.
It was the season of coughs and fevers, and Fawna knew the prairie folk needed her, so she spent the morning crushing coneflowers and elderberries at Bluebird’s Apothecary. By mid-afternoon, all was wet and bright, and the silver snowdrifts covered the prairie in a shroud of candlelit prayer. Fawna wanted nothing more than to go back to her homestead and curl up by the hearth with a book in her hand, but she promised Roscoe she would stop by the saloon and have an early supper with him. Roscoe had been mighty lonely since his wife and daughter died, and Fawna didn’t want to disappoint him.
As she walked over to the saloon, a strange feeling was brewing inside her. She couldn’t explain it, but she knew something splendiferous was about to happen.
Excerpt 3
Silk Moon, 1840
Yesterday, an unpleasant creature arrived in Purgatory Bend, wrapping the blue skies and dry earth in its flaming wings. A wildfire raged in the woods behind Fawna’s homestead, burning brighter and brighter under the sweltering heat of the silk moon. Fearfully, Fawna watched from the window as thousands of bonfires sizzled and scorched the land all around her, but there seemed to be an invisible force that kept the flames from engulfing her homestead. When she asked her mamaà how it was possible, Isleen said it was a divine mystery, and they should be grateful.
With wildfires, there was only one certainty. No matter how long they burned, they died out eventually. When the dust finally settled under the waning silk moon, there was nothing left but ashen limbs and the putrid smell of char. The beautiful woods that Fawna remembered were gone. Even the towering treetops were bald, and Fawna felt naked without them. She stood at the edge of the woods and cried a river, but Isleen didn’t shed a tear.
“Flames are a force of nature, and we need fire as much as we need water. There’s no need to be sad or afraid, for death is the path to the resurrection,” Isleen explained. “Now, dry those tears, my little Fawna. We have to trust the god of miracles. The woods will come back to us, and they’ll be even more beautiful than they were before,” Isleen promised.
“MamaÃ, I think we should call them the cinder woods now,” Fawna said, drying her tears with the sleeve of her dress.
“What a splendid way to honor their pain,” Isleen whispered.
About the Author
Grendolyn Peach Soleil was born in the Appalachian Mountains on a full moon. She is an old soul and a folk magic fiend. Grendolyn loves twisted fairy tales, all things vintage, tales of true love, and creature features. Some of her fancies include pumpkins, black cats, mermaids, tea parties, cowboys, dahlias, and sunsets. She is a member of the Visionary Fiction Alliance and The Independent Author Network. Grendolyn is the author of Limbo Jubilee, The Mermaids Melt at Dawn, and Snow Dust and Boneshine: The Chronicles of Granny Witch (Book 1).
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