Book Tour – Guest post by the author of The MacInness Legacy + GIVEAWAY

Published October 22, 2014 by Kaitlin Michelle

The MacInness Trilogy Banner 851 x 315

Sisters Julie and Sandy Moffett have penned an award-winning trilogy about three sisters living in Salem, Massachusetts who are descendants of witches. The sisters must find each other and harness their powers to fight an ancient curse.

 

We are often asked what we like best about writing a series together. The answer is we got to spend a lot more “sister time” together than usual! Actually, we had a blast writing this series and enjoyed watching our characters grow and develop over the story arc. It was a lot of work, but we loved every minute. We hope you’ll enjoy the result.

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THE MACINNESS LEGACY TRILOGY

Three sisters. Three witches. One hundred years after the Salem witch trials. Time is running out to stop a deadly curse…

 

In 1692, an innocent man accused of witchcraft hangs in Salem, Massachusetts. His death reignites a deadly feud between the descendants of two ancient Scottish clans—MacGow and MacInness, which leaves the MacInness clan descendants cursed. Any man who weds a MacInness is destined to an early death. The MacInnesses have one century to lift the curse and reflect it back upon Clan MacGow. Nearly one hundred years later, triplet sisters separated in childhood, are being drawn back to Salem. The have three months to refine their unearthly talents of fire, sight, and healing, and break the deadly curse…or lose the men they love forever.

 

BONUS: A free novella titled Bewitching featuring a witch at the Salem’s Academy for Ladies.

 

Buy the Box Set here:

Amazon

Nook

Kobo

 

Excerpt from the first book, The Fireweaver:

October 31, 1692

 

Priscilla Mary Gardener was about to hang.

 

After twenty-one years of life, it would end here on Gallows Hill, not far from her home, with a rope around her neck and a suffocating black wool hood draped over her face.

 

How ironic that death would embrace her now. Blessed with health, youth, and vibrancy, she had never given herself leave to contemplate her own demise. But during these past two weeks she had been forced to ponder death and the fragility of life. She did not want to die. Even as she stood precariously over a rickety trap door with a noose around her neck, she still dared to hope there was a possibility she might be saved.

 

But it was not to be.

 

It saddened her that not one of her neighbors or friends came forward to speak for her, to challenge the preposterous claims that had been made against her. Not one raised their voice in protest against her execution. She was alone and condemned. The thick rope weighed on her neck, chafing her skin. Her wrists were tied behind her back and rubbed raw. At first, her arms had ached fiercely, but now only a dull pain throbbed. Her legs were unbound, but she feared moving even a breadth lest the trapdoor open and hasten her demise.

 

Priscilla drew in a painful but steadying breath, and reflected upon her life, one that had once been blessed and good. She’d had a husband who had loved her, and a mother and father who had adored and sheltered her. As death neared, she saw that little else mattered. Breathing became more difficult beneath the hood. Cold sweat trickled down her temples and neck, causing her to shudder uncontrollably. Perhaps, if God were truly merciful, she would suffocate beneath the black hood before they ever got on with the hanging. If not, she prayed her death would be quick and clean. She had no wish to suffer a long and agonizing death while the people she had known all her life looked on, wondering, whispering.

 

Priscilla supposed it was almost time now. A man on the scaffold said something, but she couldn’t make out the words through the hood. She was no longer certain if she were breathing. She felt light-headed, weak, as if she had already taken leave of her body. A hand pressed into the small of her back and she heard more mumbling. Then the noose tightened around her neck just as the trap door opened. Priscilla felt herself falling and then yank to a stop as pain exploded in her head. The pain passed and there was nothing but a suffocating stillness.

 

Was she dead?

 

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Julie Moffett                                                               Sandy Moffett

www.juliemoffett.com                                                www.sandymoffett.net

Twitter: @JMoffettAuthor                                          Twitter: @SMoffettAuthor

Facebook: Click here                                                   Facebook: Click here

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GIVEAWAY

3 box sets The MacInness Legacy Series

 

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