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Amanda Cadabra’s life LOOKS perfectly normal...
But looks can be very deceiving.
In the picture-perfect English village of Sunken-Madley, a young covert witch is laying
low. Amanda Cadabra has her reasons.
Orphaned when her family’s van mysteriously plunged over a Cornish cliff many years before, Amanda is keeping herself to herself, quietly working for her grandfather’s furniture restoration company, hoping the world will leave her alone.
However, soon Amanda’s peace is disturbed by the arrival in the village of the inquisitive Inspector Trelawney, dogging her footsteps as he investigates the strange fate of her family. But the persistent detective becomes the least of her problems, as a restoration job at the Tudor manor propels the young witch into a swirl of mystery and intrigue.
Events quickly conspire to drag Amanda into the building’s murky past and its even more dangerous present. Armed only with her wits, her grumpy feline familiar, Tempest, and a wand, Amanda Cadabra is going in.
A body, ghosts, hidden passageways, and a host of unanswered questions soon emerge. Can Amanda dodge the inspector long enough to solve the Manor’s many mysteries and unravel her own past before the scandal of murder engulfs the village?
Excerpt 2 —
Magic in the workshop
Approx. 160 words
At that moment, ‘the poor orphaned girl’ in
question, was in the workshop, singing along under her dust mask to Don’t
Worry, Be Happy. Using the rhythm to help her as she worked, Amanda Cadabra
moved her arm back and forth, gently sanding the rough edges off a sliver of
oak veneer. It was destined to replace a missing piece from a 19th-century
bookstand, sitting on the other end of her workbench. This was delicate work, a
process that she needed to attend to carefully by herself. Meanwhile, there
were certain other tasks that Amanda could delegate.
Twisting around, she looked at the brush resting in the gluepot, warming on the
single ring electric hob on the opposite side of the workshop.
‘Mecsge ynentel,’ she bade it. Instantly, by itself, the brush moved from
leaning to vertical, so that it stood upright in its lake of adhesive. Then, as
if guided by an invisible hand, gently it began to stir the Scotch glue.
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