Jinx Hamilton Box Set Books 1-6 by Juliette Harper
For the first time in a single ebook collection, enter the world of Briar Hollow, North Carolina, with the first six books of The Jinx Hamilton Mysteries. Set in a fictional town near the Blue Ridge Mountains, Jinx, a former waitress, inherits a store — and more — from her eccentric Aunt Fiona.
The series begins with a sweet “cozy” note in the first novel Witch at Heart, but evolves into a full-blown paranormal urban fantasy. From shapeshifting werecats and ancient Fae to baseball playing ghosts and paramilitary fairy troops, the Jinx Hamilton books have it all.
Listen to what readers have to say about Jinx and her world:
“Absolutely terrific! The characters are great, the story is griping and you never want to end.”
“The Jinx Hamilton Mysteries, are full of surprise, fantasy, and feeling.”
“From the first book, right on through, you feel like you can become friends with each character.”
“Plot twists and new characters keep her work fresh and exciting. Lots of humor and romance. Love the series. Want MORE!!!!”
“The story has progressed — we have a full bodied urban fantasy with a well thought out world, well developed characters of all descriptions, and a great and complex story line.”
“Great storyline and dialogue, lots of action and drama. The author has great imagination and insight into human behavior.”
If you’re ready for magic, adventure, humor, family, and friendship, come with us to Briar Hollow and beyond in this special boxed ebook collection!
Targeted Age Group:: Books are appropriate for YA although written for an adult audience.
Heat/Violence Level: Heat Level 1 – G Rated Clean Read
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
The Jinx Hamilton mystery / adventures started with a simple question, "Where has all the magic gone?" I wanted to develop a character who discovers magic within herself and in the world at large. The series begins as something akin to a cozy mystery. Jinx has an innocent's understanding of things "unseen." As her worldview changes, so do the books, carrying the reader along in the process of a developing urban fantasy that grows in complexity and interest across the current nine volume arc (with more to come.)
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
Truthfully, I sat down and gave myself 20 minutes to write something in the "voice" of the main character. What came out is still the opening of book one, Witch at Heart. Jinx more or less invented herself. She spoke so clearly, I was able to take it from there.
You’ve heard that old saying, “Be careful what you ask for, little girl, you may get it.” Well, I am living proof that sometimes, old saws can be pretty cutting edge. I said all I wanted to do was work at home and have as many cats as I could take care of. Maybe it was wish fulfillment or karma smacking me in the backside, but I am now single, 29, and the unpaid servant to four well-fed felines. We all live in the apartment above the store I inherited from my Crazy Aunt Fiona. No. Seriously. That’s what we called her. Crazy Aunt Fiona.
I can see my mother now, handing me the receiver of the kitchen telephone, the one with the cord that was stretched out so straight you could wander over half the house with it. “Norma Jean, get in here and talk to your Crazy Aunt Fiona.”
Yes, you read that right. Norma Jean. Mom is absolutely in love with Marilyn Monroe and chose to punish me with her obsession. Thank God Daddy heard that and said, “Lord God, woman, you have jinxed this child for life.” That’s the name that stuck. Jinx. Most people don’t even know my real name.
Mine was a pretty conventional Southern Baptist raising in our tiny town. Mom is the devout one, and dad and me just try to stay out of trouble. By the time I made high school, I understood that we are actually “dancing Baptists.” Come Sunday morning a certain brand of amnesia kicks in about where the family might have been the night before and how much country music could have been involved in the activity.
Crazy Aunt Fiona lived one town over and ran what mom referred to as a “rat’s nest of a tourist trap.” I could never figure out the second part of that statement since there wasn’t much in our neck of the woods to see. That was before I understood some people live all their lives cooped up in cities and can’t wait to enjoy some real countryside.
The other part, about the rat’s nest, was a no brainer. Dad swore a guy could walk in off the street and say, “Excuse me, do you have a spark plug for a Studebaker?” and Fiona would have produced one. She sold everything from penny candy at the counter to love potions out the back door. You want a Moon Pie and some fishing worms? Fiona had it.
The idea of a coherent inventory or any particular purpose for her store never seemed to enter her head. When she decided she wanted to serve food and the health board got all bent out of shape, Fiona just happily took the required state course, met their standards for food preparation and went right on about her business — that is as long as the food inspector wasn’t in sight.
“Everybody that comes in this place drinks homemade whiskey and would cook up road kill if it looked fresh enough,” Fiona declared. “They’re not gonna be catching any bubonic plague germs from me.”
Truth be told, lots of folks came to Fiona to heal up from whatever was ailing them at the time. One summer I was sitting on the stool behind the counter at the store when a woman came in who had just buried her husband. She and Fiona stepped off to one side and I heard the woman say, “Mrs. Ryan, my heart hurts so bad without Jesse I just can’t breathe.”
Aunt Fiona disappeared in the back of the store and came out with a piece of rose quartz on a silver chain. She said, “Now, honey, you just wear this over your heart so the magic can help you start healing. You get to thinking you can’t breathe, you hold onto this piece of quartz and you pray to Jesus.”
After the woman left, I said, “Aunt Fiona, how can a rock make that lady feel better about her dead husband?”
Aunt Fiona reached over and tucked my long hair behind my ears and patted my cheek with her ring-bedecked, blue-veined hand. “It’s not the rock that will heal her honey, it’s the belief that she can heal.”
When Aunt Fiona would talk like that, I always felt like she was telling me things that were deep and wise because they were also simple and loving. People said Aunt Fiona was a witch woman, but the only spells I ever saw her cast were good common sense and a lot of love.
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