Moonbeam Chronicles: Witching Hour in Foxglove

By Katie Rose

Embark on a whimsical and enchanting journey with Victoria Moonbeam in "Moonbeam Chronicles: Witching Hour in Foxglove." At the age of 45, divorced and seeking a new beginning, Victoria stumbles upon the magical world that has been hidden within and from her for years. Set in the charming town of Foxglove, Victoria not only discovers her own magical powers but also unravels a lineage of witches, revealing familial ties she never knew existed.

As Victoria navigates the quirks of her newfound magical abilities, she encounters talking familiars, Luna and Ember, who add a touch of humor and charm to her mystical journey. However, the tranquil haven of Foxglove faces an imminent threat as Victoria's grandmother, Viviana, harnesses dark forces to seize control of the town and the coven.

In this humorous and enchanting tale, Victoria grapples with the complexities of her magical heritage, forms unexpected bonds, and faces the ultimate showdown with her own flesh and blood. The "Witching Hour in Foxglove" unfolds with surprises at every turn, blending humor, magic, and family dynamics in a captivating narrative that will leave readers spellbound.

Join Victoria Moonbeam in her quest to embrace her magical destiny, forge alliances with fellow witches, and stand against the looming darkness that threatens to engulf Foxglove. The "Moonbeam Chronicles" promises a delightful and spellbinding adventure that combines laughter, enchantment, and unexpected twists in a world where magic reigns supreme.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Katie Rose
• Release date: Dec 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223080886

Katie Rose

Raised in West Texas, Katie is a beacon of compassion, resilience, and empowerment. With 35 years of marriage under her belt, Katie now resides on a small rural farm in Georgia, where she has dedicated her life to rescuing unloved animals, inspiring older women to embrace their full potential, and expressing her creativity through the written word. From a young age, Katie developed a deep connection with animals. Growing up in the Texas countryside, she witnessed the plight of abandoned and mistreated creatures, igniting a lifelong commitment to animal welfare. Now, on her small rural farm in Georgia, Katie has created a sanctuary where neglected animals find solace, healing, and a loving forever home.  Katie's passion for empowering older women stems from her belief that age should never be a barrier to personal growth and fulfillment. Through workshops, speaking engagements, and one-on-one coaching, she guides women on a transformative journey of self-discovery. Her unwavering support and encouragement inspire older women to embrace their unique strengths, unlock their hidden potential, and embark on new adventures with confidence and purpose. * In addition to her dedication to animal rescue and empowering older women, Katie finds solace and self-expression through writing. Her words flow effortlessly onto the page, capturing the essence of her experiences, insights, and the beauty she witnesses in the world around her. Through her writing, Katie aims to inspire others to embrace their passions, live authentically, and make a positive impact in their own lives and the lives of others.  Katie's life is a testament to the power of compassion, resilience, and the pursuit of one's passions. Through her unwavering commitment to rescuing unloved animals, empowering older women, and expressing her creativity through writing, she has become a guiding light for all who cross her path. Her journey serves as an inspiration to embrace our true selves, live with purpose, and make a positive impact in the world, regardless of age or circumstance.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The aroma of fresh -brewed coffee lingered in the air, mingling with the scent of aged books and a hint of lavender-scented candles. As I sank into the plush armchair, the soft creak of the leather seemed to echo the weight of my thoughts as I sipped my coffee and contemplated the absurdity of life. The cottage, my newfound sanctuary after the whirlwind of divorce proceedings, embraced me with its quirky charm. The living room, with its eclectic mix of furniture and the worn-out rug, seemed to reflect the chaos within me.

My name is Victoria Moonbeam, and at the ripe age of forty-five, I was teetering on the precipice of a midlife crisis. Midlife crisis, a term that danced through my mind like a mischievous imp, taunting me with its clichéd connotations. I took a sip of the coffee, letting the bitterness mingle with the bittersweet memories that lingered in the air.

And if you ask me to describe myself, I'd say I'm comfortably situated in my mid-40s, navigating the ebb and flow of life with a twinkle in my hazel eyes. My wavy, graying auburn hair, often stubbornly refusing to conform to any particular style, frames my face in a chaotic dance of curls and waves. There's a certain whimsy to it, I suppose, a reflection of the unpredictability that has become a constant companion in my life’s journey.

I've long passed the era of being svelte, and I've embraced the curves and contours that have become proof of the various chapters of my life. There's a softness to my silhouette that speaks of experiences, both sweet and bitter, etched into the canvas of my being. I'm not one to bemoan the passing of time, rather, I've found a peculiar comfort in the way my body tells a story uniquely mine.

Some might say I'm cute, a term I've come to adopt with a sense of fondness. In a world that often equates beauty with rigid standards, being considered cute is a rebellion of sorts. I'm not here to conform to anyone else's notions of attractiveness, I've cultivated my own brand of charm that sits comfortably between adorable and enchanting.

As I navigate the mundane work world and the day-to-day activities, I've found that my perceived cuteness is often accompanied by an innate warmth that draws people in. My hazel green eyes, framed by a cascade of auburn waves, have witnessed the highs and lows of many endeavors, and they carry a depth that invites others to share their stories. There's an unspoken understanding that beauty, in its myriad forms, is not confined to a narrow definition.

In the mirror, I see the reflection of a woman who has embraced her quirks, appreciated her imperfections, and found beauty in the authenticity of her journey. I wear my wavy auburn hair as a crown of resilience, each strand a reminder of the magical twists and turns that have shaped me.

So, here I am, Victoria Moonbeam, not chasing an elusive ideal of beauty, but reveling in the unique allure of being comfortably and unapologetically me. Whether cute or pretty is in the eye of the beholder, and in this magical journey, I've learned that true beauty radiates from within, painting the canvas of life with the vibrant hues of authenticity.

My living room is adorned with mismatched furniture that mirrors the chaos of my emotions, becoming the stage for a one-woman show of contemplation. I glanced around, half-expecting the walls to echo the laughter that once filled the space. Instead, the silence presses against my ears, a reminder of the solitude that has become my companion. The divorce had not only untangled the legal knots but had also unraveled the threads of a life I thought was securely woven.

As I stared out of the window, the morning breeze whispered through the lace curtains, a gentle caress that carried the scent of possibility. My mind, ever the overactive storyteller, began to replay scenes from the past, the laughter shared over morning coffees, the late-night conversations that danced on the edge of dreams. And then, the abrupt turn in the narrative, the moment my now ex-husband decided to trade our shared history for a fresh chapter with whom I had thought was my best friend.

Well, Victoria Moonbeam, I sighed, addressing the woman in the living room mirror with a wry smile, you sure know how to pick 'em.

The coffee mug met the saucer with a clink, a sound that seemed to punctuate the bitterness of reality. Midlife crisis or not, the absurdity of life unfolded in unexpected ways. I traced the rim of the mug with my finger, lost in the swirls of memories that clung to its ceramic surface.

I thought about my daughters, Sharon and Kensi, wishing they were sitting with me as we sipped coffee together. In my other life, that was an everyday occurrence, at least with Kensi. Sharon and I were polar opposites and often at each other’s throats about something. Kensi was my mirror image. She was me all over again, miserable in some areas, great in others. I’ll have to invite them when I feel more comfortable about my new lifestyle.

The divorce was amicable enough and I gained a good financial endowment that would take care of me for a few years, but all I wanted was a little bit of freedom and a completely new start. I had found Foxglove listed in a piece of paper that appeared in a book, and after looking at the job market, decided to take a job at their local insurance company. Nothing related to anything when I was married. The house I bought fit me perfectly. Cottage actually.

The cottage, with its marvelous kitchen and the greenhouse attached like a whimsical afterthought, had become my refuge in the storm of heartbreak. My mind wandered through its rooms like a reluctant explorer, discovering the quirks and charms hidden in every nook and cranny. The kitchen, with its oversized pots and pans that seemed to mock my solo cooking escapades, became both a battleground and a haven.

As I thought about the greenhouse, the scent of earth and the vibrant hues of blooming flowers and herbs embraced me. It was a sanctuary within a sanctuary, a space where the chaotic dance of my emotions found solace in the quiet growth of nature. The plants, seemingly oblivious to the melodrama of human existence, reached for the sunlight with a determination that bordered on poetic.

I envy your simplicity, my green friends, I whispered in their general direction.

The early morning sunlight filtered through the leaves of the trees outside the window, casting a mosaic of shadows on the floor. I sank back into my weathered sofa, my mind wandering back to the days when the other living room echoed with shared laughter and the kitchen witnessed the alchemy of love. The realization that my ex-husband had traded all that for something new, someone new, stung with a bitter irony.

Who knew midlife crises came with such a dramatic script? I mused, tracing a finger over the shadows of a leaf.

The door of the kitchen creaked open, and Luna, my feline confidant, sauntered in with a regal indifference. Ember followed, his tail held high as if asserting his presence in the grand narrative of the day.

Well, gentlemen, I addressed the duo, what's the verdict on today's performance? Drama, tragedy, or comedy?

Luna blinked lazily, his green eyes reflecting the nonchalance of a seasoned theater critic. Ember, on the other hand, approached with a cautious curiosity, as if contemplating the nuances of the human emotional spectrum.

You know, I continued, I used to think my life was a romantic comedy. Turns out, it's more of a tragic comedy with a splash of farce.

The cats exchanged a glance that seemed to say, Humans and their melodramatic narratives.

As I looked around the living room, the weight of the past lifted with each glance of my eclectic collection. The cottage, with its mismatched furniture, its large kitchen, and the greenhouse that whispered tales of growth, became a space where the absurdity of life could be embraced.

The sun had climbed higher in the morning sky, infusing the living room with a golden warmth. I settled back into the armchair, cradling the coffee mug as if it held the elixir of resilience. The midlife crisis, with its twists and turns, had become a chapter in the grand story of Victoria Moonbeam.

I suppose, I said to no one in particular, there's a certain humor in finding yourself in the middle of chaos and realizing that, perhaps, it's the perfect place to start anew.

As I absently stirred my coffee, the voices of my two cats, Luna and Ember, engaged in a heated debate about the merits of knocking over the potted plants versus curling up on the windowsill. I chuckled, realizing that my feline companions had a simpler approach to life than I did.

The truth was, I had always felt an unexplainable yearning deep within my soul. It was a persistent whisper that something extraordinary awaited me. I could no longer ignore the gnawing feeling that my life was on the cusp of a transformation, a metamorphosis into something beyond the ordinary. And, if I were to believe the fluttering of excitement in my chest, it had something to do with the mysterious realm of witchcraft.

I had never been particularly superstitious, but lately, strange things had been happening. Objects would inexplicably move when I entered a room, and I swore I caught glimpses of shadows darting across my peripheral vision. It was as if the universe was nudging me, whispering secrets that I couldn't quite comprehend.

Victoria Moonbeam, I muttered to myself, testing the name. It sounded like the moniker of a character from a fantasy novel, not a suburban woman who worked at an insurance firm. But life has a way of surprising you, I suppose.

I glanced at the clock, realizing that I was due for another uninspiring meeting at work. I sighed, the weight of responsibility pulling me back to the mundane reality of spreadsheets and corporate jargon. However, today felt different. There was a spark in the air, an intangible energy that hinted at possibilities beyond the confines of my cubicle.

As I gathered my things and prepared to leave, I noticed a dusty old book tucked away in the corner of the room. Where did you come from? It had a worn leather cover and a title written in elegant script that read, The Art of Enchantment. Intrigued, I reached for it and blew off the layer of dust, revealing an ornate emblem of a crescent moon and stars.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I opened the book to a random page. The words on the parchment-like paper seemed to dance before my eyes, weaving tales of ancient spells and magical incantations. I chuckled, thinking that someone had left behind a prop from a Halloween party.

Still, as I skimmed through the pages, a sense of familiarity crept over me. It was as if the words resonated with a part of me that I had long suppressed. The absurdity of it all struck me, and I laughed aloud, the sound echoing through the empty room.

What are you cackling about, Victoria Moonbeam? My reflection in the hallway mirror stared back at me, my eyes wide with a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

Chapter 2

The day at the office was as unremarkable as expected, filled with the usual drudgery of emails and meetings. My mind kept wandering back to the dusty book and the whimsical notion that maybe, just maybe, there was more to life than the corporate grind.

That evening, I found myself back in my living room, surrounded by the comforting chaos of mismatched furniture and the ever-present scent of lavender. The book lay open on the coffee table, beckoning me to explore its secrets further.

With a sigh, I sank into the worn armchair, the soft creak of the leather a comforting companion. The pages of The Art of Enchantment seemed to come alive as I delved deeper into its mystical contents. The book spoke of ancient rituals, the power of herbs, and the significance of celestial events. It was a whimsical journey into a world that I had never dared to believe existed.

As I read, the room seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy. The flickering candle flames cast dancing shadows on the walls, and the air crackled with anticipation. I couldn't deny the flutter in my chest, the sense that I was on the brink of something extraordinary.

Luna, Ember, what do you think? Should I embrace my inner enchantress? I asked, half-jokingly, as the cats lounged lazily on the rug. They responded with indifferent stares, seemingly unimpressed by my newfound fascination with the mystical.

With a newfound determination, I decided to explore this unexpected twist in my life. The next day during lunch, I visited a quaint metaphysical shop tucked away in a corner of the city. The bell above the door jingled as I entered, and the shopkeeper, a wise-looking woman with silver hair, greeted me with a knowing smile.

Victoria Moonbeam, I presume? she said, her eyes twinkling with an otherworldly wisdom.

I blinked, taken aback by the recognition. How did you...

The universe has a way of guiding those who seek, she replied cryptically, gesturing to the array of crystals and mystical artifacts that adorned the shelves of her shop. I am Fiona Ashton, and this is a haven for those with a thirst for the magical.

I approached the counter, nervously twirling a strand of hair. I found this old book at home, 'The Art of Enchantment.' It's filled with spells and mystical stuff. I don't know how it got there, but I feel this strange connection to it.

Fiona's eyes sparkled with understanding. Ah, 'The Art of Enchantment.' It's a book with a mind of its own, seeking out those whose hearts resonate with the magic it holds. It seems the universe has chosen you, Victoria Moonbeam.

I raised an eyebrow, skepticism creeping into my expression. Chosen me for what, exactly?

Fiona leaned forward, her gaze unwavering. To embark on a journey into the realms of witchcraft. The book found its way to you because it sensed the dormant magic within your soul, a magic waiting to be awakened.

I chuckled nervously, my skepticism warring with a newfound sense of curiosity. Magic? You can't be serious. I work at an insurance firm, and my idea of excitement is a good cup of coffee.

Fiona's laughter rang through the shop, a melodic sound that seemed to harmonize with the mystical energy in the air. Magic exists in the ordinary as much as it does in the extraordinary, Victoria. It's about tapping into the unseen forces that connect us to the universe. 'The Art of Enchantment' is your guide, a key to unlocking the magic that has always dwelled within you.

As Fiona spoke, I found myself drawn to the idea. The yearning within me, the whispers of the universe, suddenly made sense. It was a call to embrace the extraordinary, to explore the mystical tapestry that wove through the fabric of reality.

But how can a book just manifest itself in my living room? And why me? I asked, my skepticism lingering.

Fiona leaned back, her gaze distant as if