Sister Witches

Once Blessed, Thrice Cursed
Sister Witches Book 1
by Coralie Moss
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Clementine Brodeur must untangle her dead mother’s legacy before the clock runs out. My name is Clementine and my magic is making me lose sleep. My two sisters and I have forty-eight hours to find someone our talented mother could not. If we don’t succeed, someone will die. My magic allows me to see memories the dead leave behind–which forces me to relive the moment my mother was attacked by fae. I must tell my sisters what I’ve seen, because I know what we need to do. Except I’m afraid they’re done with my “leap now, look later” escapades. They’ve had my back for over twenty years. Why wouldn’t they have it now?
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Demon Lines
Sister Witches Book 2
Clementine Brodeur has found her fated mate, and is now pursued by a three-faced killer. I wasn’t expecting to meet Laszlo Arkadi the same day I discovered my family was built on secrets. My deceased mother? On the face of it, she was a matchmaker for witches seeking love. Concealed from her daughters, she risked her life freeing enslaved Magicals. My father? He wasn’t there for me. And since my mother’s death, he’s been trying to join her on the other side. As for my oldest sister? I suspect she’s an assassin. Now I’ve bonded with my ice demon, Prince Laszlo, he’s taking me to the Reformed Realm to meet his parents. Turns out, there’s more to meeting the Queen than simply learning to curtsy. I just want to catch a break from family drama–mine and his. That royal ball Laszlo and I are required to attend? The invited guests think the prince is still single. The uninvited guests intend to escape with the realm’s most vulnerable Magicals. I have to follow my instincts. Only now I’m bound to another. Can Laszlo and I merge our magics? Can we challenge a tyrant who envisions a world with many of us in cages?
The Scarab Eater’s Daughter
Sister Witches Book 3
Alderose Brodeur must avenge more than her parents’ deaths. I use my muscles more than my magic. I have to. My father learned the hard way that magic can be sucked dry. He made certain I knew a good right hook is priceless, and to keep my blades sharp. He’s dead now. My two sisters and I are talking again. But there’s so much Clementine and Beryl don’t know about me–and there’s no time for a girls’ night out. The three of us must go up against Lionel Vigne, the same fae who brought down our parents. We know he’s hiding in the French Alps. He’s on the cusp of forcefully breeding rare Magicals, the crime that got him banished from fae lands. I want to complete my mother’s mission on my own. Do I blend the metal in my blood with my blades and use brute force to end Lionel’s tyranny? Or, if I truly am the Scarab Eater’s Daughter, do I put down my blades and let my magic act as a lure?
Coralie Moss loves everyday heroines and complicated witches, layered magic and earthly moments, and will always believe in the power of love. Whether she’s writing Urban Fantasy or Contemporary Romance, her characters get her up in the morning and Assam tea keeps her going. She lives on Salt Spring Island, British Columbia with her HEA, their son, and two globe-trotting rescue cats.
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4 thoughts on “Sister Witches

      1. There’s a brief scene in chapter 5, when the 3 sisters are settling into their hotel room for the night. They’re trying to recall what their mother taught them, + think about if they really can follow in her witchy footsteps (I have a sister + this book was dedicated to her because I’ve had so many moments like this where she had me, literally, in stitches):

        “Have either of you kept up with your knitting or crocheting?”

        The heads to either side of mine shook in tandem.

“What about macramé?” I asked. “Tatting? Plaiting? Rug-hooking? Embroidery?”

        By the time I’d listed every type of needle- and fiber-work I could remember Mom trying to teach us, we were in stitches. And when I pointed out how ill-prepared we were to assume the mantle of her work, we laughed harder.

“Oh my Goddess, we’re hopeless. We’re going to have to rename the shop.”

        “I like Bitches in Stitches,” Alderose said, ducking Beryl’s pillow assault.

        Beryl tried again and succeeded in whacking Alderose on the forehead. “Be serious. We could be—”

“Smart Witches, Sassy Stitches.”

        “Stitchy, Witchy, and Bitchy.”

“I give up. You two are acting like adolescents.” Beryl whipped off the covers on her way back to our bed. “Shush up. I need my beauty rest.”

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