Tangled Roots – Denise D. Young / #Extract #BlogTour @rararesources @ddyoungbooks



A beautiful witch lost in time. A brooding farm boy with magic in his blood and a chip on his shoulder. Dark secrets and shadowy magic. Paranormal romance with a time slip awaits in the first book of this new series.

Cassie Gearhart casts a spell in the forest in the summer of 1974. The next thing she knows, she wakes up to find the world irrevocably changed.

It’s 2019, for one thing. For another, all of her coven members have vanished, leaving behind only one man who holds the key to their secrets.

Nick Felson has sworn off magic, until a confused Cassie knocks on his door in the middle of the night, somehow missing forty-five years’ worth of time. But Nick knows falling for the captivating witch means letting magic back into his life—and that’s one line he swore he’d never cross.

Can Cassie unravel the mystery that transported her decades into the future? And can Nick resist the powerful magic and heart-pounding passion that swirl in the air whenever he and Cassie are together?

The Tangled Magic Series is intended for readers 18-plus who enjoy fast-paced reads, wild and witchy magic, swoon-worthy kisses, and small-town charm. The series is best read in order.





Torches’ flames danced. Quartz crystal points in their many forms—clear as glass, smoky gray, the yellow of citrine, the purple of amethyst and pale pink of rose quartz—jutted from the earth below and cavernous ceiling above. Silver moss dangled. The eyes of unseen creatures peered from the shadows, hidden by swirling silvery mists.

The mists before me parted, revealing a throne carved of dark, twisting wood, as though the tree from which it was carved were still alive, still sentient, still growing. Green crystals poked out here and there. Behind it was a wall of dark green vines speckled with red roses the size of small cabbages.

But it was the figure who sat in that throne—and such a chair could only rightly be called a throne—who sent my jaw dropping.

“Cassandra Anne Gearhart.” Full lips, a deep, plum purple, almost black but glistening as though they’d kissed the stars, turned upward in a dark, sinister smile as they hissed my name.

I stepped backward, but a wall of vines pressed against me, halting any retreat. “Yes?”

Her eyes were silver like the mists, but bright as the coldest of winter stars. Her skin was bronze as though stained with earth, her hair a twisting mass of light brown braids filled with moss and twigs.

She rose. I was short—a mere five-foot—so most people seemed tall to me, but she was purely a giantess. She towered over me, her robes the same near-black purple of her lips, threaded with green, amber, and teal threads. I almost reached out to caress the billowing fabric, to test its fibers under my fingers. Instead, I curled my fingers into my palms.

She reached out with bony fingers and tilted my head upwards, until I strained backwards to meet her glinting gaze.

That smile again. Wise and wicked. “I will grant your wish.”

“You’ll…” I sucked in my lips. It was too easy. I shouldn’t have done this. “You’ll make sure Nathan can’t find me.”

She nodded, each bob of her head deliberate, decisive. “Yes. But there’s a price.”

“What would you ask of me?” The words came out a little too high, too desperate. Never a good position when one was facing such a powerful being.

“I see far more than you, and I am not obligated to tell you all that I see,” she snapped.

I lowered my gaze back to the wall of vines. “Of course, my lady.”

She released my chin from her bony clutches, and I sighed with relief. “One day, you will awaken. You will sleep for many years, and, when I need you, you will awaken.”

“I don’t understand. How does that stop…How does that grant my wish?”

A gust of wind shook the cavern. “I do not owe little mortals explanations.” She tilted her head, as if listen to whispers the wind carried. “He’s here, you know. Your father is sick. Do you want to go home?”

“I want to stay in Willow Creek.”

“Then you’ll stay. I can make that so. Do you agree to my terms?”

“I don’t understand your terms.” I inhaled, wishing I could suck the words back in, swallow them.

To my surprise, she chuckled. “You don’t need to. If I release you this night without granting your wish, he will find you. Or you can accept my offer. But I’m not a creature of patience, immortal though I might be.”

That attic bedroom. Those woods I couldn’t enter.

What fate could be worse than magic caged?

“I accept.”

She nodded. “Then as I will it, so mote it be.”

Ribbons of magic twisted in the air, wrapping around me, tugging me back up through the earth.

“I know she’s here, bitch!” My blood ran cold at those words. I tried to crane my head, to see where Nathan’s voice came from, but every muscle was stiff, frozen.

“Don’t you dare speak to me that way. Get off my land. This is private property.” Ginny’s voice, madder than I’d ever heard her.

Nathan came into view. He’d grown a beard since last I saw him, and even in the moonlight I could see how red his face was. “Where is she? Cassandra? Cassie!”

I’d seen my brother angry before and, not for the first time, I feared that in his rage he’d hurt me. I tried to run, but my feet were rooted to the earth.

He glared down at the candle, pointing at the now extinguished flame. The spell was over, the magic cast.

What had I done wrong? Why hadn’t she saved me?

Why couldn’t I run?

Thank you, Denise D. Young and Rachel’s Random Resources


About the author 

Equal parts bookworm, flower child, and eclectic witch, Denise D. Young writes fantasy and paranormal romance featuring witches, magic, faeries, and the occasional shifter.

Whatever the flavor of the magic, it’s always served with a brisk cup of tea–and the promise of romance varying from sweet to sensual.

She lives with her husband and their animals in the mountains of Virginia, where small towns and tall trees inspire her stories. She reads tarot cards, collects crystals, gazes at stars, and believes magic is the answer (no matter what the question was).

If you’ve ever hoped to find a book of spells in a dusty attic, if you suspect every misty forest contains a hidden portal to another realm, or if you don’t mind a little darkness before your happily-ever-after, her books might be just the thing you’ve been waiting for.


Social Media Links 

Website: www.denisedyoungbooks.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/denisedyoungwriter/

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Denise-D.-Young/e/B06X1BCP8C

Instagram: N/A

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15807322.Denise_D_Young

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/denise_young/




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