Spotlight & Giveaway: The Witches of Bone Hill by Ava Morgyn

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Ava Morgyn to HJ!

Hi Ava and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, The Witches of Bone Hill: A Novel!

Hello! Thanks for having me on the blog. I’m delighted to be here and to share a little about THE WITCHES OF BONE HILL with your followers.
 

Please summarize the book for the readers here:

When Cordelia and Eustace Bone inherit a crumbling, Victorian mansion in the hills of Connecticut, they come face to face with their estranged family’s hidden, magical past and must reconcile their difficult upbringing, their mother’s tragic and mysterious death, and the powers that are fully emerging now that they have reunited with Bone Hill, all while being stalked by an unseen enemy that seems to know far more about them than they do themselves.
 

Please share your favorite line(s) or quote from this book:

As if to affirm Molly’s pronouncement, the largest crow Cordelia had ever seen landed atop the sign, cawing rudely in her direction, pinning her with one horrid obsidian eye.
She scowled at its greasy black feathers as it launched into the air and sailed over her roof, an ominous blight on her perfect specimen of a house. As it disappeared, her gaze dropped to one of the dormer windows, curtains parted. She stood between them, the stern-faced woman dressed in black, a bonnet of white hair piled on her head as she stared down at Cordelia malevolently, pale as death itself.
Cordelia fell back a step, heart grinding to a halt within her chest, breath trapped inside as she gave over to little-girl terror. Not again, she thought. Not again, not again, not again.

Please share a few Fun facts about this book…

• The working title of the book was simply BONE HILL. As the setting of the novel, it’s especially gothic and plays a critical role in Cordelia and Eustace’s story, so it was always central in my mind when writing and seemed apt. We later enlarged it to bring in the main characters and give readers a better idea of what they’re in for, but I love that the setting is still front and center there on the cover.
• I was inspired by all the things I love personally while writing THE WITCHES OF BONE HILL—old houses, hauntings, antiques, deep woods, and of course, witchcraft. Which meant I kept falling down random research rabbit holes that led to me knowing things like the difference between a widow’s walk and a widow’s watch or who made the most expensive clocks in the world, how much duck decoys go for at auction, and that some traditional cider mugs have two handles.
• I also got to do a lot of really fascinating research on Viking culture and traditions, especially where it pertains to magic and magical practices. And I ended up building a “Heathen” playlist on YouTube that I still listen to whenever I want to leave my body and visit a world of old gods and women who turn into crows and men whose souls are tied to land and sea.

What first attracts your Hero to the Heroine and vice versa?

This is definitely a book about heroines, but what would a Gothic Revival mansion be without a really hot groundskeeper? Cordelia is drawn to Gordon’s authenticity. He is unmistakably himself, loud and proud, and clearly not driven by social norms or fitting in. Things she has to learn. He’s a reflection of the part of herself she has locked away and turned her back on. For her, the two go hand in hand—giving herself permission to fall in love with Gordon and be her true self, own her power.

Did any scene have you blushing, crying or laughing while writing it? And Why?

Many of the scenes with Eustace are hilarious to me; she provides a lot of comic relief for otherwise dark and heavy subject matter. In this one, Cordelia and Eustace set out in the middle of the night after their aunt’s funeral to investigate the family crypt.

“It’s technically our crypt. We’re allowed inside,” Cordelia reasoned.
“It’s no one’s at the moment,” Eustace countered, “if you want to get technical about it. We haven’t signed anything yet.”
“You know what I mean,” Cordelia said with a huff. “It has our name on it. That’s got to count for something.” She paused at the pantry door and Eustace bumped into her from behind, giving an audible oof. “Shhh…” she insisted with an angry swat, turning the handle carefully.
Eustace looked annoyed. “What are we shushing for? There’s nobody in here but us.”
Cordelia doubted that. She hoped the restless spirits of the house were tucked away in their respective corners till morning. She had no intention of alerting them to what she and her sister were about to do. In the pantry, she fumbled around in the dark until she came out clutching a butcher knife and a steel spatula.
Eustace gave her a flat look. “What are we gonna do with those? Flip her over and check to see if she’s done?”

Readers should read this book….

If you love witchlit, gothic fiction, bad boys with good hearts, and things that go bump in the night, then THE WITCHES OF BONE HILL is definitely for you. But it’s also for readers who love endearing female relationships, women finding and owning their power, and complex family legacies.

What are you currently working on? What other releases do you have in the works?

I am busily revising another adult standalone about hereditary witches for St. Martin’s Griffin, though the Corbin family and their powers are wildly different from the Bones with a very unique backstory. It’s a magical, atta-girl, contemporary feminist fantasy with a protagonist who risks everything to get her life back and gains the family and the power she never knew she wanted. Look for it next year!
 

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: One print copy of The Witches of Bone Hill by Ava Morgyn, US Winner Only

To enter Giveaway: Please complete the Rafflecopter form and Post a comment to this Q: Cordelia and Eustace experience an awakening of their supernatural powers once they arrive at Bone Hill. What role do you think the property plays in their abilities? If you had latent magical powers, what would it take to wake them up?

 
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Excerpt from The Witches of Bone Hill: A Novel:

“Cordy,” her sister breathed into the phone. “I didn’t know if you’d pick up.”
“You caught me between engagements.” Cordelia wandered up the drive as she glanced back to the dormer window, now thankfully empty. Eustace always managed to call in the middle of important meetings or unexpected crises, as if she could feel her sister’s tension from eight hundred miles away. But after their falling-out five years ago, she’d remained conspicuously silent.
It was so Eustace—showing up late and stoned off her ass, pretending she knew John better than Cordelia did, a man she’d barely said five words to, insisting they call the wedding off. She knew her sister was only trying to protect her after their mother died, but they had each said things that couldn’t be unsaid that day. They’d always seen the world differently, had disagreements and fights. But for the first time, there had been a real disconnect. As if their grief had eclipsed their bond.
Or maybe it was the fear.
Cordelia had meant to reach out after the wedding, but with Maggie and Eustace out of the picture, she’d found it so much easier to put everything behind her, to forget where, who she’d come from, and pretend her upbringing had been as Criss Cross Applesauce as the next person’s.
Now, she was wondering what had changed.
“You sound . . . off,” Eustace replied.
Cordelia had never been a fan of her sister’s ability to read her so accurately. She could read houses, but Eustace could take one look at someone and know their whole life story. Or at least think she did. She’d hoped the distance had put an end to that irritating trait. Apparently, it hadn’t. “I ate a bad egg at breakfast,” she lied.
Without Perry Ellis to stymie them, the moving guys were already in action. Her Victorian walnut console table was resting beside the hydrangeas. Next to it was rolled the silk rug she’d ordered from Jaipur. Cordelia wandered into the side yard to avoid them, her reasonable three-inch heels sinking into the freshly watered ground. They were streaked with mud when she pulled them up. Doubly annoyed, she felt the hum of pain radiating between her eyes grow.
As much as she longed for reconciliation, Cordelia couldn’t face this conversation today. The I told you sos would finish her. And the mysterious envelope from the mailbox was burning a hole through her palm. “Eustace, this isn’t a great time. If you just want to catch up, I can call you ba—”
“She died,” Eustace interjected. “Aunt Augusta. She’s dead.”
Cordelia stabilized herself on the concrete. Her eyes crept up the spotless brick of the house to the empty dormer window where the frightful woman had been, the curtains still parted
conspicuously. She swallowed. This was unexpected.
“Cordelia?” Eustace asked after a moment. “Did you hear me?”
Molly came rushing out of the house with a pinched expression, waving her hands as she darted toward her.
“Uh, yeah,” Cordelia said, eyes shifting to Molly’s sack dress. She was really going to have to talk to her about smartening up her business attire. But then, remembering Allison’s slinky pencil skirts, she thought better of it.
“Is that all you have to say?” Eustace pressed. “Our great-aunt, the matriarch of our estranged family—the one our mother disavowed with such vehemence we didn’t even know they existed until I had that family-tree project—has finally passed into the hereafter, and Uh, yeah is your response?”
“Sorry.” Cordelia pressed her lips together as Molly approached, a little out of breath.
“I think you’d better come inside,” Molly said. “You need to see this for yourself.”
She frowned, her head beginning to feel like Molly had pounded the For Sale sign directly into her brain.
“It’s the bedroom,” Molly whispered loudly.
Cordelia placed a finger over the speaker of her phone. “I just need a minute.”
“Okay,” the girl said, sheepish, but then she continued to stand there wringing her hands with worry.
“Fine,” Cordelia snapped, immediately contrite. She softened the edge in her tone. “After you.”
“Cordelia? Are you still there?” her sister beckoned on the other line.
“Yes, sorry,” she said as she followed the assistant into her house. “There’s just a lot happening right now.”
“We haven’t spoken in five years,” Eustace said quietly.
Cordelia sighed, her guilt and shame multiplying like weeds in cow shit. “I know.”
She tried to focus on what her sister was telling her. Eustace wasn’t exaggerating. They really did think themselves a genetic island of three for half their childhood. Once the existence of their living relatives came out, it seemed preposterous that she’d never considered them before. But Maggie had been so resolutely mum on the subject, it had never occurred to Cordelia to ask until her sister’s project. Even then, their mother had precious little to say about the shadowy aunt and uncle living in Connecticut, no matter how they plied her for information. And it was clear from her crisp tone and shifting eyes that she’d buried her feelings along with the details of their extended family. Whoever they were, Maggie had little use for them and even less regard. And considering their already reduced station, that didn’t paint a pretty picture of where they’d come from.
“Okay, Aunt Augusta is gone. Do we need to arrange a burial?” It was the least they could do for their last known living relative, but Cordelia wasn’t exactly flush after John’s stunts. She was teetering on destitution. She worried her sister would detect the tightness in her voice.
“Not exactly,” Eustace said.
She dropped her purse on the entry table beside the irises and slipped off her muddy slingbacks, leaving them on the Italian tile floor, padding down the long hall to the master bedroom into which Molly had disappeared. “Eustace, please. Don’t be cryptic. Just tell me what you need.”
After a moment, her sister said, “There was a will.”
Cordelia stopped just shy of the bedroom and spun around to lean against the wall. For a split second, hope dared to bloom in her heart, until she remembered the sour expression their mother wore whenever they mentioned their Connecticut family. Over the countless occasions they’d needed money growing up, she’d made it abundantly clear they wouldn’t find it there.
She watched as the movers carried her pearl chesterfield sofa out the front doors, hailing a silent goodbye. The furniture would be listed online to pay her mounting hotel bill.
“What’d they leave us? The family collection of salt and pepper shakers?” She knew it was wrong to mock the dead, but under the circumstances, she couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her voice.
“They left us the house,” Eustace told her. “Augusta’s attorney contacted me as the eldest.”
“The ancestral seat, huh?” Cordelia wanted to take it seriously, but judging by how quickly her mother had fled Connecticut when she came of age, she doubted it was a palatial estate Maggie Bone had left in her wake. Still, property had a nifty way of appreciating, and Connecticut was expensive. Even a backwater hut would buy her some time, maybe allow her to reinstate the loan on the house until she could secure a buyer or get the worst of the payday lenders off her back. Perhaps their estranged family would turn out to be a godsend after all. A tiny sliver of light streamed down on her in the darkened hallway.
“More or less,” Eustace said.
Molly tapped her boss’s shoulder like a bird pecking at seed. Cordelia put up a finger to hold her off a moment longer. “I’ll get a contact for someone in one of the Connecticut offices and have them pull us some comps. We can decide on the list price together if you want, but we can have it on the market in a matter of days if we stick to an as-is sale—”
“No.” Eustace sighed.
“What do you mean no?” It was a word Cordelia had never gotten used to hearing, even from her older sister. Which was another reason she excelled in real estate and struggled in personal relationships.
“I mean, we can’t do it that way,” Eustace said calmly.
Cordelia rubbed at her throbbing temples, trying to swallow her desperation. “Says who?”
“Aunt Augusta, apparently.”
Her headache was mushrooming, and a faint but sickening smell was just beginning to pierce her awareness. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s all in the will,” Eustace told her. “In order to receive our inheritance, we have to go there. Also, to bury Aunt Augusta in the family plot or whatever.”
“Go where? Connecticut?” Cordelia was aware her voice had become shrill in that way John had so often complained about. Impromptu out-of-state vacations were not exactly factored
into her budget or her schedule. She tried counting to six as she breathed in through her nose.
“To Bone Hill,” Eustace replied, beginning to sound a touch exasperated.
“Where or what is Bone Hill?” Cordelia asked, feeling pressed between Molly’s heightening panic at her back and her sister’s maddening nonsense at her front.
“The house. The crypt. All of it,” Eustace answered.
Cordelia blinked. It wasn’t very common for houses to have names unless they were of a certain caliber. But that couldn’t be. “You mean, there’s a cemetery on the property?”
“Apparently,” Eustace told her.
The stream of light widened.
“Eustace,” Cordelia whispered into the phone. “How big is this place?”

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

Ava Morgyn’s The Witches of Bone Hill is a spellbinding, romantic novel about family secrets and two young women who discover they’re Nordic witches.

Cordelia Bone’s meticulously crafted life and career in Dallas are crashing down around her thanks to a philandering husband with criminal debts. When her older, carefree sister, Eustace—a cannabis grower in Boulder—calls to inform her that the great aunt they never met has died and they must travel to a small town in Connecticut to deal with the estate, she sees an opportunity to unload the house and save herself.

But once there, the sisters learn they are getting much more than they bargained for. The Victorian mansion they stand to inherit is bound in a dynasty trust controlled by their late aunt’s aging attorney, who insists they retain and inhabit the house but keeps them in the dark about the peculiar rituals of their ancestors. Not to mention a sexy, tattooed groundskeeper with a shrouded past who refuses to leave the carriage house and a crypt full of dead relatives looming at the property line.

As both women grapple with their current predicament, they come face to face with a haunting family secret, the truth of what happened to their mother, and the enemy that’s been stalking them from the shadows for generations. In a twisting torrent of terror and blood, the sisters must uncover the power within them to heal their fractured relationship, reverse their mysteriously declining health, and claim the lineage they wanted to escape but now must embrace if they are to survive at Bone Hill.
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Meet the Author:

Ava Morgyn grew up falling in love with all the wrong characters in all the wrong stories, then studied English Writing & Rhetoric at St. Edward’s University. She is a lover of witchcraft, tarot, and powerful women with bad reputations, and she currently resides in Houston with her family, surrounded by antiques and dog hair. When not at her laptop spinning darkly hypnotic tales, she writes for her blog on child loss, hunts for vintage treasures, and reads the darkest books she can find. She is the author of YA novels Resurrection Girls and The Salt in Our Blood.
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