Blurb #1:
When watercolor artist Mabel Morrison returns to her sleepy hometown to settle her grandmother’s will, she expects old memories, not family secrets.

But in the quiet corners of her grandmother’s cottage, nestled between pressed herbs and faded journals, Mabel uncovers the truth within herself. In her own way, she’s just like her grandmother, and is the next generation of women who use art, intuition, and wild-grown remedies to gently shift the world around them.

As she reconnects with the land, the locals, and her own buried past, Mabel must decide if she will walk away or embrace the legacy that calls to her soul.

Perfect for fans of slow-burn mysteries, herbal magic, and heartwarming small-town stories.
Pairs best with a cup of tea and a quiet afternoon.

Blurb #2:
When watercolor artist Mabel Morrison returns to her family’s quirky hometown to settle her grandmother’s will, she thinks she’s just passing through.

But the moment she steps back into the cottage nestled in the mountains of North Carolina, and into the lives of the people in town, Mabel starts to realize her grandmother left her more than a house.
She left her a legacy. One rooted in herbal healing, old-world wisdom, and a quiet kind of magic that’s been waiting for her all along.

As Mabel fights to find her way on her own path, she’ll discover that the town she once wanted to leave behind might just be the place she truly belongs.

Filled with cozy vibes, meaningful friendships, found family, and just a hint of the mystical.

Blurb #3:
When watercolor artist Mabel Morrison returns to her sleepy hometown to settle her grandmother’s will, she expects old memories, not family secrets.

But in the quiet corners of her grandmother’s cottage, nestled between pressed herbs and faded journals, Mabel uncovers the truth within herself. In her own way, she’s just like her grandmother, and is the next generation of women who use art, intuition, and wild-grown remedies to gently shift the world around them.

As she reconnects with the land, the locals, and her own buried past, Mabel must decide if she will walk away or embrace the legacy that calls to her soul.

Perfect for fans of slow-burn mysteries, herbal magic, and heartwarming small-town stories.

Pairs best with a cup of tea and a quiet afternoon.

Grab your copy now and step into a story where healing comes in many forms…

EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER ONE
The alarm clock crashed to the floor as I smacked at it for the last time. “I’m leaving that damn thing here,” I grumbled to myself. I felt crazy for having such strong feelings about an inanimate object, but I hated that alarm clock. Sitting upright and running my hands down my face, I felt more like a zombie than a human girl. Woman.

Whatever. 

Unfortunately, I’d missed the off button for the alarm and the clock’s fall from the table hadn’t broken it or ripped the plug from the wall, so it was still happily wailing away from under the bed. And it didn’t sound muted. Oh no, now it somehow seemed to reverberate through the entire room as if the under bed acoustics were the perfect amplifier for my morning agony. Flipping myself over the edge of the bed and hanging upside down, I yanked the cord from the wall and huffed in relief at the sudden silence. Calling on core strength I absolutely did not have, I wriggled upright and collapsed back into the pillows. 

In the sudden stillness, I took a moment to really look around my bedroom in the apartment I’d had for the last five years, the first place I could call my own when I moved out of my mother’s house. Looking at it now though, I wondered if I really could call it mine. I paid the rent and other bills, sure, and maintained my responsibilities, and theoretically made all the decisions. But I felt no sense of “me” in this space. The walls were a dull builder grade beige, as was the carpet. Hell, even my comforter was a slightly darker shade of beige. The only pop of personality in the room was my dark purple sheets, and even they were hidden away when the bed was made. 

My mother had helped me choose the apartment, and all the things in it, when she finally conceded to my desire to move out at twenty years old. I had been financially self sufficient for a couple years, I was lucky in that way. My painting business had really taken off right after high school, and in a mere year I had acquired a nice little nest egg that continued to grow while I still lived at home. 

I shook my head, not wanting to mentally relive the fights we’d had when I told her I wanted a place of my own. But I couldn’t help but wonder as I looked around my bedroom if this is what I would have chosen for myself. Even the artwork, now carefully wrapped up and ready to move, was bland and muted in color. Neutral. Safe. 

I glanced back over at the offending alarm clock. My mother had even gifted me that alarm clock, saying that productive people got their day started early. “You started this.” I narrowed my eyes, pointed at it, and huffed. I realized the clock probably sounded louder because the room was now almost completely empty, and therefore echoey, not because the electronic device was actually yelling at me. 

After one more second of reflection, and one more glare at the clock, I squared my shoulders and got out of bed. “No time like a new beginning to change your interior design choices. And I’m more productive at night anyway.” With that, I headed to the shower, vowing to leave the alarm clock and all things beige behind in the move.

EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER SEVEN
“What are you smirking at, honey, while you’ve left me out here on the porch?”

“Oh Lord, I’m sorry, Dottie. Please do come in! I’m so happy you’re here.” I shut the door behind her and headed into the kitchen. I filled Gram’s kettle and put it on the stove so we could have tea. It was so second nature I didn’t even think about it. If there was company in this house, there was tea. 

“I just wanted to see how you were getting on. I know you’ve only been here a day, but I thought you might be right bored here by yourself. I should’ve known you’d already be painting. Is this one for fun?”

Dottie had wandered by the dining room once she’d dropped her bags on the floor right where I’d plopped mine when I came in last night. I wondered if I had seen her do it so many times in my life that it was an unconscious response to coming in the house with bags. 

“No, not for fun. I have a list of commissions I’ve already accepted before I open my books back up. That little guy is one of the animals my customer takes care of at the Zoo of America. Hedgie is watching over him while he dries.”

“Hedgie?” One perfectly drawn on pencil thin eyebrow raised in my direction. “How original.”

“Hey! No insulting Hedgie. He’s my new best friend and I love him with all my heart.” I pouted playfully back at her, watching the smile slowly overtake her face. 

“Maybe we should get you a pet. Unless you think the lamp would get its feelings hurt. We wouldn’t want that.”

“Har har. I’d love to have a pet someday… I’ve always wanted a cat. As much as I love Hedgie there, I don’t think I want a real hedgehog. A dog feels too demanding, but a cat feels more like a roommate that might snuggle now and then.” I shrugged. “I’ll get one someday. When I settle into a place that I know I’m going to stay.”

Dottie’s nose wrinkled like she smelled rotten eggs. “Well, isn’t that something! Since it sure looks like you’ve got yourself a nice place right here. And speaking of, I brought you a house warming present. Don’t worry, it’s not alive, at least not anymore than your lamp over there, but you can give it a name too if it’ll make you feel better. And we’ll add a real live pussy cat to the list for one day,” she waggled her eyebrows, “and maybe a man, too.”

“Oh, Dot. You didn’t need to bring me a thing, I’m just happy to visit with you. Plus, I think a house warming present is typically for when someone moves into a house and plans to stay. I’m just visiting while I sort through Gram’s affairs. And I’m not justifying the man comment with a response, thank you very much.”

With her hip propped on the edge of the table and her eyes narrowed in my direction, all five foot nothing of the sweet old lady in front of me seemed to morph into a formidable opponent. She studied me for a beat that didn’t make me uncomfortable at all, a lie, it totally did, before cocking her head to one side to glare at me.

EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER TEN
Peeking back at me from underneath the leaves were two slow blinking eyes. “Well, I’ll be.” I stood up and looked around. What does one do exactly when they find a boulder sized tortoise in the middle of town? If I left it here to get help, it couldn’t go too far before I came back, right? But what if I found someone to help and it was gone when I got back? Then I’m the crazy new girl in town that sees imaginary large tortoises under bushes in the town square. Before I could argue with myself any longer, I saw a man running toward me from the direction of the coffee shop, or more likely I supposed, the pet store. 

“You aren’t by chance looking for a tortoise are you?” I waved high in the air and talk-shouted at him. 

His paced slowed as an even slower grin broke out across his face. “That’s an oddly specific question for six-thirty on a Monday morning.”

My face froze into a polite smile, but inside I was mentally cringing at myself. Crazy new girl title it is. “Oh, well I just saw you running from the direction of the pet shop and you aren’t really dressed for running and since I just discovered this tortoise the size of a small horse I took a guess.” The sarcasm sneaking its way into my voice didn’t match the customer service smile on my face. Honestly, I wasn’t sure which personality was going to win at this point. 

He blinked as he came to a stop in front of me, and the slow grin bloomed into a full mega-watt smile. Whoa.

“Well, let me rephrase then.  Your deductive reasoning skills are absolutely on point for six-thirty on a Monday morning. I am in fact looking for a tortoise, but I also already knew she was under that bush. But thanks for keeping an eye on her. Hi, I’m Elliott Scott, I own The Pet Parlor down the street.” He reached out to shake my hand, and when I shook his back I swear my heart stuttered as it said ‘oh there you are, finally’.

“What is this town doing to me?” I murmured under my breath.