Publisher : Berkley (October 5, 2021)
Language : English
Paperback : 352 pages
ISBN-10 : 0593336062
“Payback’s a Witch is the book I’ve been waiting for all my life. A sexy, funny, charming romp of novel that scratches that witchy, autumnal itch just right. I read this story in one breathless, giggling sitting, and at the first fall nip in the air, I know I’ll be reading it again. One of my favorite reads in years.”—Emily Henry, New York Times bestselling author of Beach Read
“Payback's a Witch is like the first Halloween wind through the corn: brisk, breezy, and altogether refreshing. This is a sweet, charming read, absolutely designed to be enjoyed on a crisp fall evening. I want to go to Thistle Grove. My greatest regret about this book is that it isn't a five-season TV show that I can already sit down and just binge.”—Seanan McGuire, New York Times bestselling author
"A sexy, charming, and completely magical romance full of sparkling dialogue and loveable characters. Emmy’s quest to find out where she belongs is so relatable, with some spells and supernatural elements included to spice things up. And Emmy’s hometown, Thistle Grove, is so enchanting that I found myself wishing I could plan a visit! Reading Payback's a Witch is like curling up with a big mug of cider on a perfect autumn day."—Kerry Winfrey, author of Very Sincerely Yours
"No tricks, all treat! Lana Harper’s debut Payback's a Witch is a compulsively fun read.”—Jacqueline Carey, New York Times bestselling author of the Kushiel’s Legacy series
"Harper makes her adult debut with a queer rom-com that bewitches from the very first page...This magical joyride manages to feel both vibrantly current and timelessly mystical while avoiding the typical queer rom-com stereotypes. Combining John Tucker Must Die with a helping of an adult Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire and a dash of Charmed, this addictive concoction begs for adaptation."—Publishers Weekly, starred review
"Harper’s adult debut is gorgeous in every way. It’s hilariously funny, deeply moving, powerfully uplifting and so glue-you-to-the-page engrossing that this reviewer literally did not put it down for the final hundred pages. The love story between Talia and Emmy develops beautifully, but the true romance is with the town and the community. The bonds of both family and friendship shine from start to finish, and Harper balances the different clans and captures how, together, they make Thistle Grove the magical place that it is."—BookPage, starred review
EXCERPT
PAYBACK’S A WITCH by Lana Harper
Berkley Trade Paperback Original | On Sale October 5, 2021
As soon as I crossed the town line, I could feel Thistle Grove on my skin.
That I was in my shitty beater Toyota made no difference; maybe the town could sense one of its daughters coming home, even after almost five years away. A swell of raw magic coursed into the car, until the air around me nearly shimmered with potential, bright and buzzy and headier than a champagne cocktail. As if Thistle Grove's own magical heart was pulsing eagerly toward me, welcoming me back. No hard feelings about my long absence, apparently.
Made one of us, I guess.
The onslaught of magic after my dry spell was so intoxicating that I hunched over the steering wheel, taking shallow breaths and wondering a little wildly whether you could overdose on magic after having gone cold turkey for so long. From the passenger seat, Jasper cast me a glinting, concerned glance from beneath his silvery fringe and shoved a clumsy paw onto my thigh.
"I'm okay, bud," I murmured to him through a thick throat, reaching over to stroke his warm neck. "It's just . . . a whole lot, you know?"
That was the thing about growing up with magic. Until you left it behind for good, you had no idea how incredible it felt just to be around it.
And it wasn't only the air that seemed different. Through my spattered windshield, the night sky had changed, snapping into Ÿber-focus like a calibrated telescope. Above Hallows Hill, the unlikely little mountain the town huddled up against, a crescent moon hung like a freshly whetted sickle. Waning crescent, my witch brain whispered, already churning up the spells best cast in this phase. Its silhouette looked like it could carve glass, impossibly perfect and precise, the kind of moon you'd see in a dream. The constellations that surrounded it like a milky spill of jewels were arranged the same as on the other side of the town line but better somehow, more intentional, clear-cut and brilliant as a mosaic set with precious gems. So enticing, they made me want to pull the car over and tumble out, head hinged back and jaw agape, just to watch them glitter.
This fucking town. Always so damn extra.
With an effort, I resisted the temptation. But when the orchards that belonged to the Thorns appeared on my left, I gave in just enough to roll down my window.
The night air gusted against my face, smelling like an absolute of fall; woodsmoke and dying leaves and the faintest bracing hint of future snow. And right below that was the scent of Thistle Grove magic, which I've never come across anywhere else. Spicy and earthy, as if the lingering ghost of all the incense burned by three hundred years of witches had never quite blown away. A perpetual Halloween smell, the kind that gave you the good-creepy sort of tingles.
And fallen apples, of course. The Thorns' rows and rows of Galas, Honeycrisps, and Pink Ladies, sweet and cidery and indescribably like home.
It all made the part of me that used to adore this place-oh, cut the shit, Emmy, the part of you that still does, the part that will never, ever stop-throb like first-love heartache. My eyes welled hot with sudden tears, and I knuckled them clear more violently than necessary, angry with myself for sinking into nostalgia so readily.
Sensing my mood plummeting, Jasper gave an aggrieved snort, tossing his regally mustachioed snout at me.
"I know, I know," I groaned, dragging a hand over my face. "I promised not to get too in my feelings. I'm just tired, bud. From now on, it'll be all business till we can get out of here."
He huffed again, as if he knew me much too well to buy into my stoic crap. I might be back here only because Tradition Demands the Presence of the Harlow Scion, but nothing in Thistle Grove was ever that simple. Especially when it came to the heir of one of the founding families.
Ten minutes later, I pulled into my parents' oak-lined residential neighborhood, rattling onto their cobbled driveway. My chest clenched at the sight of my childhood home, fisting tight around my heart. It was a perfectly nice house, though not all that impressive as founding family demesnes go. The Blackmoores had their palatial Tintagel estate, the Thorns had Honeycake Orchards, and the Avramovs the rambling Victorian warren of a mansion they insisted on calling The Bitters, because they thrived on such old-world melodrama.
And we, the Harlows, had . . . lo, a house.
A stately three-story colonial almost as old as the town itself-though you wouldn't know it, to look at its magically weatherproofed exterior-Harlow House has never had a fancy name, thereby upholding the timeless Harlow legacy of being both the least pretentious and least relevant of the founding families. As always, a candle burned in every window; thirteen flames, for prosperity and protection. The flying owl weather vane spun idly in the night breeze, and the dreamcatcher windchimes hung by the front door clinked delicately against one another. A plume of smoke coiled from the brick chimney in a curlicued wisp before vanishing into the velvety dark above.
It looked like a storybook house belonging to your favorite no-nonsense witch-which, come to think of it, sounded like both my parents.
And it was all like I remembered, except that the thought of going inside made me feel painfully stripped of breath. There was an invisible moat of hurt surrounding my former home, years of unanswered questions. Restless water, teeming with the emotional equivalents of piranha and stinging jellyfish.
I couldn't do much about the hurt, and "because Gareth Blackmoore ruined this town for me" still seemed like a shitty answer to the question all the others boiled down to, which was: Emmy, why haven't you come home all this time?
So I turned the car off and just sat with my head bowed, listening to the ticks of the engine settling and Jasper's low-grade whine, focusing on my breath. When I'd collected myself about as much as I was going to, I lurched out of the car on travel-stiff legs and let Jas out to baptize the quiet street, then hauled my battle-scarred suitcase and gigantic duffel bag out of the trunk. By the time he came loping back, I'd managed to wrestle everything up onto the columned porch with an admirable minimum of cursing.
I still had my key, but it seemed horribly rude and presumptuous to use it after a five-year absence, so I knocked instead. When the door swung open, I managed to flinch only a little, blinking at the warm light spilling from within.
MY THOUGHTS:
A perfect witchy season to read Lana Harper's latest, Payback's a Witch.
The story is centered on Emmy Harlow who is a reluctant witch who needs to come home for the spellcasting tournament - since she has not returned home to her magical town of Thistle Grove for many years, her powers have also diminished. But never mind that, the last person she wants to see is Gareth Blackmore who broke her heart many years ago. Enter Linden and Talia - they are also victims of Gareth's charms and with the three of them together for a revenge, Emmy also has a romantic interest and i found that relationship super cute and romantic.
This is the first book in the series and cannot wait to read more about the magical families and the Thistle Grove world.
Lana studied psychology and literature at Yale University and law at Boston University. She is a graduate of the Emerson College publishing and writing program and the author of YA novels Wicked Like a Wildfire, Fierce Like a Firestorm, Blood Countess, the forthcoming Poison Priestess, and the forthcoming adult rom-com, Payback's A Witch, from Berkley Books (10/5/21). Lana was born in Serbia and lived in Bulgaria, Hungary, and Romania before moving to the United States. She lives in Chicago with her family.
You can follow Lana on Goodreads
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