What Are Books Like The Witch Of Portobello?

When Anastasia, a lower level green witch, finally flees from a vengeful wolf pack, she finds herself soul-bond to the very thing she hates, a Lycan. Not only is he a Lycan, but he’s none other than Dominiko, the Lycan King himself! She thought struggling to accept him was the worst of her worries until she is faced with a catch 22. She must overcome her prejudice, embrace her power, and choose between the witches and Lycans, all while a war threatens to tear both worlds apart. Could she really go against her own people? Or will the Lycan kings hope for peace work?

Eliza Ward does not fall through time. Time bends toward her. Pulled from the present into Revolutionary America, Eliza becomes trapped in a landscape where history repeats unevenly, battles restart with variations, and memory functions as both anchor and weapon. She is not a chosen heroine, but a constant: a woman whose awareness destabilizes the moment itself. She meets Mercy Hale, a midwife and witch who understands time as a negotiation rather than a force to command. Mercy aids Eliza’s survival while refusing the role of savior, having already learned the cost of standing too close to history’s center. During a looping battle, Eliza saves Thomas Reed, a Continental soldier who does not shift when time does. Thomas is an anchor: steady, observant, unchanged across iterations. Their bond deepens in an almost-normal village where time briefly behaves. Eliza’s intervention triggers time’s response. Rather than immediate destruction, time collects interest. Mercy bargains to spare Eliza and Thomas, sacrificing her own future to stabilize the present. Time extracts payment from Eliza as well, stripping away her voice, the very tool she uses to name and hold moments in place. Silenced and unmoored, Eliza is violently displaced back into the original battle. Unable to anchor the moment, she watches Thomas die in the version of history that was always waiting beneath her defiance. Told in rotating perspectives between Eliza, Thomas, and Mercy, The Hours That Refused to Behave is a lyrical time-travel novel about revolution, restraint, and consequence, asking not whether history can be changed, but who pays when it is.

William Kelly, a former Combat Marine, and a Corporal at the six-three precinct of the Heights Police has his world turned upside down when he answers a radio call of a multiple homicide at the East Coast Green Herbal Shop. The "Heights," well known for its persecution and execution of witches for almost four centuries is the backdrop of the wickedness he is about to encounter. A legacy in the Heights Police, his family has served in the precinct from its inception just after the Civil War. His bloodline's haunting history is soon revealed as he combats an evil that he doesn't believe in nor comprehend. He finds that a witch's coven is secretly operating out of a storefront in town. This coven, lead by Casper Crowningshield, are perpetrating rival gangs to war so that they can take over the drug trade. Kelly's hard nose Marine Corps approach and a quest for justice, leads him into a world of death, retribution, vengeance, and great pain. Warned by his fiancé and his best friend, Kelly ignores them and pushes on for the truth. Putting his job on the line, Kelly leaps in to solve a four-hundred-year-old mystery of a missing witch, a coven's witches bottle, and a story of wickedness that has plagued the town forever.

When witch Brenna escapes the Englishman enslaving her and using her power for his own evil ends, the only place to run is to the dragon-shifters of the Highlands. The Scots are at war for their independence, and as the Bloodiest Eye, the notorious Seer who has caused the death of many, however reluctantly, she knows they’ll kill her if they believe she’s a threat. One shared glance with Cameron Balfour has her imagining a future entwined with his. She lets the laird believe the lie that taking her virtue will drain her powers, but as their one night becomes more, she knows she’s going to have to admit her deception. With Sir Walstone still searching for her, eager to have her gift of Sight under his control again, she might not survive long enough to tell him the truth or accept his mating mark.

Princess Avalea, a Venusian Witch and the heir to the throne of the magical kingdom of Altair, finds herself on the run after witnessing the assassination of her father, the King. Helpless and hurt, she is forced to seek refuge with Aldrich, a Werewolf, a Cursed One. While Venusian Witches are the highest, the purest amongst all magical beings in Altair, the Werewolves, also known as the Cursed Ones are the lowliest, the crassest, the crudest. They're savages who have gained entry into Altair by deceitful means. Or at least, that's what Princess Avalea has been led to believe. With assassins after her own life and a traitor to weed out, the only person Princess Avalea can trust, ironically, is Aldrich the Werewolf. As he nurses her back to health, her prejudices begin to dissolve, and a bond develops between the savagely handsome werewolf and the pure, ethereally beautiful witch princess. But Aldrich has secrets. Deep, dark secrets that can shatter Avalea's heart and leave it broken beyond repair.

Because I saved my husband during a car accident, I lost my eyesight. He wept, promising to treat me well for the rest of our lives to repay my sacrifice. I cooperated with the treatment wholeheartedly, hoping for a full recovery. But on the day I finally regained my sight, I stumbled upon something that shattered my world. In our marital home, his first love lay beneath him, her flushed face betraying the passion of the moment. Their bodies intertwined, and the air around them thick with stifled moans—a vivid tableau of infidelity. "She's just a blind woman. Why haven't you divorced her yet?" the woman murmured impatiently, her voice laced with disdain as she moved against him. My husband, immersed in pleasure, still mumbled an excuse. "My love, just a little longer. Soon, we'll be together openly…" I turned and left without a word, pretending I had seen nothing. As I walked away, I remembered the witch's sacrificial ritual in the misty forest—only a few days away. My husband's betrayal cut deep, carving wounds I couldn't ignore. I made up my mind to return to the forest, to embrace my identity as a witch once more, and to sever all ties with him. Yet, after I disappeared, word reached me that he was searching for me everywhere like a madman. Rumor had it he had completely lost his mind.