by Alyxandra Harvey
Release Date: December 17th, 2013
Publishers: Simon Pulse
Genre: New Adult, Contemporary
Genre: New Adult, Contemporary
In 1814, three cousins-Gretchen, Emma, and Penelope-discover their unknown family lineage of witchcraft. Beyond the familiar manicured gardens and ballrooms of Regency London, a dangerous, alluring new underworld visible only to those with power is now open to the cousins.
But unbeknownst to them, by claiming their power, the three cousins have inadvertently opened the gates to the Underworld.
Now the dead, ghouls, hellhounds-and the most terrifying of all: the spirits of dark witches known as the Greymalkin Sisters-are hunting and killing young debutante witches for their powers.
And, somehow, Emma is connected to the murders...because she keeps finding the bodies.
Can the cousins unravel the clues and mystery behind their heritage and power before their gifts are stripped away ...or even worse, another witch is killed?
But unbeknownst to them, by claiming their power, the three cousins have inadvertently opened the gates to the Underworld.
Now the dead, ghouls, hellhounds-and the most terrifying of all: the spirits of dark witches known as the Greymalkin Sisters-are hunting and killing young debutante witches for their powers.
And, somehow, Emma is connected to the murders...because she keeps finding the bodies.
Can the cousins unravel the clues and mystery behind their heritage and power before their gifts are stripped away ...or even worse, another witch is killed?
A
Breath of Frost by Alyxandra Harvey
Alyxandra
Harvey, popular young adult author of the
Drake Chronicles, Haunting Violet, and Stolen Away, is back with a bewitching
new young adult fantasy series that will take readers through the streets of
magical 19th century London. A BREATH OF FROST, the first installment in The
Lovegrove Legacy (published by Bloomsbury Childrens) goes on sale January 7,
2014. It’s full of witches, magic, family secrets, goblin markets, deer-people,
and boys in cravats!
Welcome
to The Rowanstone Academy of Magical Arts for Young Ladies
Polish both your curtsy and your
curse-breaking! Mix potions for good luck and clear skin! Learn to defeat
warlocks, demons, and bad manners!
To regular London society we are a
finishing school teaching the young aristocratic ladies of the Beau Monde the necessary
social graces. To the fine Witching families of magical London, we are so much
more.
When you pass through the bewitched
gates, you are on safe and hallowed ground. The finest collection of gargoyles
crown our rooftop, protecting the girls and professors inside.
The ballroom has been converted into
training space where students learn how to wield magic and countermand curses.
In the many fine parlours, the rules of the witching society and the history of
our people are taught. Classes in Divination, Healing, Protection spells,
Familiars, and Love Magic are also offered.
We boast the finest magical library
outside of the Ironstone Boy’s School. Our apothecary is fully stocked with
flowers, herbs, crystals, salts, ashes from sacred trees, and basilisk teeth
for all of your spellcasting needs.
School trips to the Goblin Market, The
Magical Zoological Exhibition, and the Poison Gardens can be arranged.
Students are required to wear evil eye
beadswhile on school premises to protect them from uncontrolled magic.
Please mind the White Lady who haunts
the stairwell outside the conservatory. Her spirit-dog bites. Keep all
cat-familiars clears of the area.
Give us your daughters and we will give
your witches trained to make your lineage proud!
Enjoy this exclusive excerpt
that introduces the cousins:
“Doesn’t this seem rather
odd?” Emma asked, frowning. Earthquake, fire, Cormac. Something wasn’t right.
She worried at it like a loose tooth.
Gretchen snorted. “I’m
holding a pink dog. Odd doesn’t quite cover it.”
“Daphne just fainted,”
Penelope pointed out, crossing her arms so her dress wouldn’t cling to her
figure. Her grandmother would never forgive her the impropriety. Her parents
wouldn’t care, they rarely came out into society. The other fashionable girls
in their thin white gowns were soaked through, corsets ribbons and legs
outlined in great scandalous detail. A young lord tripped over his own foot
when he turned and saw through Emma’s wet dress. Penelope shifted to cover her,
glowering at him so fiercely he hid behind a tree.
Gretchen tilted her head as
chaos continued to boil around them. “Daphne is playacting,” she said
dismissively. “And not very well, I might add. Who faints in such a comfortable
position? Not to mention she ought to have toppled right into those rosebushes
if gravity was at all involved.” She sighed. “And that footman is barely strong
enough to hold that kind of bucket. He’s doing it all wrong.” She thrust the
wet dog at Penelope. “Here, take the teacake, would you?” She dashed away
toward the struggling footman. “Lift with your knees, not your back,
muttonhead!”
Emma watched her go,
resigned. Gretchen would now classify this as the best ball they’d ever
attended since she’d avoided the actual social gathering in favor of hauling
buckets of water and battling a fire. In the rain, no less. Gretchen loved the
rain. Emma was rather less enamoured of it. She pushed her soggy hair out of
her face where it clung uncomfortably to her forehead. At least it would help
stop the fire from spreading. Already it seemed less virulent, its burning
jagged teeth easing from bite to nibble.
“I suppose we ought to help,”
Penelope said dubiously. She spotted Mr. Cohen cowering under the cover of an
elm tree. “That tears it,” she muttered. “Let’s, shall we?”
Emma followed her gaze. “I
thought you liked him.”
Penelope glanced away, her
cheeks red as berries. “Not anymore.”
She scowled. “What did he
do?”
“Nothing. It’s not
important.”
“Penelope. I’m wet and cold
and perfectly willing to shove him into the shrubbery.”
“He called me fat.”
Emma hissed out a breath. “I
beg your pardon.”
“It’s nothing, really.” She
forced her voice not to wobble. “He embarrassed me, is all.”
“Think how embarrassed he’ll
be when I wrap his smalls around his fat head.”
Penelope, feeling decidedly
more cheerful, had to drag Emma toward the burning house, where they stood
uncertainly at the edge of a line of shouting men. Someone broke the window
from inside the ballroom, glass cracking into the hollyhocks. Smoldering
drapes followed, coiling like a smoke-breathing serpent.
“Why does Emma look like
she’s swallowed a bee?” Gretchen asked when her cousins pushed their way toward
her.
“Mr. Cohen called Penelope
fat and crazy,” Emma replied.
Gretchen’s smiled died. “Did
he, now?”
Penelope now felt perfectly
vindicated and couldn’t quite recall why she’d let Mr. Cohen hurt her feelings
in the first place. “It’s nothing.”
“I hope he wakes up swollen
like a balloon,” Gretchen muttered.
While her cousins stewed and
plotted painful vengeance involving Mr. Cohen swelling to such proportions that
all the buttons popped off his evening wear and he ended up naked in the
ballroom, Penelope couldn’t help but admire the parade of half-dressed men
under a flash of lightning. “Well, now,” she grinned appreciatively, wounded
pride utterly erased. “There should be more fires, don’t you think?”
“What?” The sight of Cormac
in his shirtsleeves, the wet fabric clinging to his muscles was particularly
distracting. Emma felt compelled to stare, as if under some sort of spell. She
blinked rain out of her eyelashes when Cormac went blurry. She had to remind
herself that she’d sworn to hate him. She turned her attention back to the
buckets sloshing from hand to hand, until her fingers cramped. Smoke stung her
eyes and seared her throat.
“And I had no idea Tobias was
so well-muscled, did you?” When the rain faded to a patter in the leaves,
Penelope pouted. “Drat. What a shame. If we’re not all going to die horribly in
flames, I’d rather like to see more shirtsleeves.”
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with Alyxandra Harvey!
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About the author:
Alyxandra Harvey lives in a stone Victorian house in Ontario, Canada with a few resident ghosts who are allowed to stay as long as they keep company manners. She loves medieval dresses, used to be able to recite all of The Lady of Shalott by Tennyson, and has been accused, more than once, of being born in the wrong century. She believes this to be mostly true except for the fact that she really likes running water, women’s rights, and ice cream.
Among her favourite books are ‘The Wood Wife’ by Terri Windling, ‘Jane Eyre’ by Charlotte Bronte, and of course, ‘Pride and Prejudice’ by Jane Austen. Elizabeth Bennet is her hero because she’s smart and sassy, and Mr. Darcy is, well, yum.
Aside from the ghosts, she also lives with husband and their dogs. She likes cinnamon lattes, tattoos and books.
About the author:Alyxandra Harvey lives in a stone Victorian house in Ontario, Canada with a few resident ghosts who are allowed to stay as long as they keep company manners. She loves medieval dresses, used to be able to recite all of The Lady of Shalott by Tennyson, and has been accused, more than once, of being born in the wrong century. She believes this to be mostly true except for the fact that she really likes running water, women’s rights, and ice cream.
Among her favourite books are ‘The Wood Wife’ by Terri Windling, ‘Jane Eyre’ by Charlotte Bronte, and of course, ‘Pride and Prejudice’ by Jane Austen. Elizabeth Bennet is her hero because she’s smart and sassy, and Mr. Darcy is, well, yum.
Aside from the ghosts, she also lives with husband and their dogs. She likes cinnamon lattes, tattoos and books.
