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Ivy Cassidy
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October 2025
A note from Ivy--Thank you for welcoming this story
I still can’t quite believe this book is finally out in the world!
House of Spells and Secrets lived in my heart and soul for a long time before it ever became a story on the page. It began with my learning about Biddy Early, a woman considered to be a witch in 19th-century Ireland. From there, questions about family, memory, and the ways women pass knowledge to one another took root.
Release week Read more of this blog post »
House of Spells and Secrets lived in my heart and soul for a long time before it ever became a story on the page. It began with my learning about Biddy Early, a woman considered to be a witch in 19th-century Ireland. From there, questions about family, memory, and the ways women pass knowledge to one another took root.
Release week Read more of this blog post »
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House of Spells and Secrets
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published
2026
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3 editions
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The Keeper's Grimoire: A Book for Reflection, Ritual, and Everyday Magic
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* Note: these are all the books on Goodreads for this author. To add more, click here.
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“I named you after my favorite tree. The rowan tree. It has white flowers in the spring, red berries in the fall, and the leaves turn yellow in autumn. It’s so delicate looking, but really it’s hardy and strong.” She smiled, bumping Rowan again. “It’s a tree of power, where magic will flower. That’s you.”
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“True to being the firstborn, Caraline's magic was louder and warmer. It thrived in her cooking, when she folded it into dough and steeped it in broth. Rowan didn't know how hibiscus rolls could soften an argument, or why rosemary bread helped someone remember things that had long ago started to fade, but somehow they did. Caraline called it comfort, but Rowan knew it was enchantment.
Saoirse could coax flowers to bloom out of season and lure herbs to grow even in the heaviest clay soil. Her teas did more than soothe. Rowan had seen them ease fevers, quiet grief, and silence nightmares. Saoirse didn't call it magic, but Rowan had always felt it in the way a room calmed when she entered. She carried stillness like a cloak. And then there was Rowan. She didn't brew curative tinctures or bake healing breads. Her magic, such as it was, served no purpose. It didn't look like theirs. In fact, it didn't look like anything. Her eyes, green like clover and threaded with gold, drew stares she could ...more Ivy Cassidy |
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Ivy Cassidy
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"[EN] First of all, I would like to thank the author and the publisher for giving me the opportunity to read this book in advance on Netgalley.
This book immediately struck me for its plot, as it encompasses some of my favourite themes, first and forem" Read more of this review » |
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"˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ARC Review ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚
✩YA Gothic Mystery, Magic Realism, Found Family, Secrets and Hidden past, Haunted House, fast paced ✩ My Rating: 4.5/✩✩✩✩✩ No Spice I started this ARC and didn't stop until 3:00 AM! It’s such a vibe—Gothic mystery, a haunte" Read more of this review » |
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"This story very much gave me Charmed vibes, with three witchy sisters coming into their powers. However, I enjoyed that the setting was small town Chesapeake Bay Area, as that is close to where I live. I could imagine the descriptions of the home and"
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I’m so good you loved House of Spells and Secrets!
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Thank you so much for reading House of Spells and Secrets. I am so happy you loved the book!
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Mandy, I'm so thrilled that House of Spells and Secrets gave you Practical Magic Vibes.
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“I’m Rowan,” she said. “These are my sisters, Caraline and Saoirse.”
“Irish names,” the woman said, and then she muttered to herself just loud enough for them to hear, “The shamrock, the triskele, and the Triple Goddess. Powerful Celtic symbols.”
― House of Spells and Secrets
“Irish names,” the woman said, and then she muttered to herself just loud enough for them to hear, “The shamrock, the triskele, and the Triple Goddess. Powerful Celtic symbols.”
― House of Spells and Secrets
“True to being the firstborn, Caraline's magic was louder and warmer. It thrived in her cooking, when she folded it into dough and steeped it in broth. Rowan didn't know how hibiscus rolls could soften an argument, or why rosemary bread helped someone remember things that had long ago started to fade, but somehow they did. Caraline called it comfort, but Rowan knew it was enchantment.
Saoirse could coax flowers to bloom out of season and lure herbs to grow even in the heaviest clay soil. Her teas did more than soothe. Rowan had seen them ease fevers, quiet grief, and silence nightmares. Saoirse didn't call it magic, but Rowan had always felt it in the way a room calmed when she entered. She carried stillness like a cloak.
And then there was Rowan. She didn't brew curative tinctures or bake healing breads. Her magic, such as it was, served no purpose. It didn't look like theirs.
In fact, it didn't look like anything.
Her eyes, green like clover and threaded with gold, drew stares she couldn't explain. And her hair, with a single streak of impossible red, practically glowed in the moonlight. She tried to hide it, oh, how she tried. She used to bleach to turn it Marilyn Monroe blonde, but it didn't work. She dyed it every shade of brown, then black, thinking she could bury the flame. But it never lasted. The ruby streak always returned, a mark she couldn't shake.
People always looked at her a second too long, as if they could sense something inexplicable about her. Sometimes she even felt it too. But most of the time she felt like the odd one out with her sisters.
Saoirse had a head of red hair and her eyes were dark like pine needles. Unlike Rowan, she didn't long for friends. All she needed were her plants, herbs, and whatever flower she held at any given moment, plus the apothecary she always created wherever they lived. And, of course, the swallows, which she could make behave.
Caraline's hair was the color of midnight, which set off the flecks of amber in her eyes. She was the opposite of both Rowan and Saoirse. Friendships with women she could do without, but the attention she got from men? That practically fed her soul. At every new place they went, Caraline had herself a new beau within days.
And Rowan had her red streak.
But it wasn't just her hair. It wasn't just her eyes. Worse were the unexpected tastes that bloomed on her tongue whenever she was around people. Her magic stirred, and it was as if she could taste their emotions and who they were, deep down inside.”
― House of Spells and Secrets
Saoirse could coax flowers to bloom out of season and lure herbs to grow even in the heaviest clay soil. Her teas did more than soothe. Rowan had seen them ease fevers, quiet grief, and silence nightmares. Saoirse didn't call it magic, but Rowan had always felt it in the way a room calmed when she entered. She carried stillness like a cloak.
And then there was Rowan. She didn't brew curative tinctures or bake healing breads. Her magic, such as it was, served no purpose. It didn't look like theirs.
In fact, it didn't look like anything.
Her eyes, green like clover and threaded with gold, drew stares she couldn't explain. And her hair, with a single streak of impossible red, practically glowed in the moonlight. She tried to hide it, oh, how she tried. She used to bleach to turn it Marilyn Monroe blonde, but it didn't work. She dyed it every shade of brown, then black, thinking she could bury the flame. But it never lasted. The ruby streak always returned, a mark she couldn't shake.
People always looked at her a second too long, as if they could sense something inexplicable about her. Sometimes she even felt it too. But most of the time she felt like the odd one out with her sisters.
Saoirse had a head of red hair and her eyes were dark like pine needles. Unlike Rowan, she didn't long for friends. All she needed were her plants, herbs, and whatever flower she held at any given moment, plus the apothecary she always created wherever they lived. And, of course, the swallows, which she could make behave.
Caraline's hair was the color of midnight, which set off the flecks of amber in her eyes. She was the opposite of both Rowan and Saoirse. Friendships with women she could do without, but the attention she got from men? That practically fed her soul. At every new place they went, Caraline had herself a new beau within days.
And Rowan had her red streak.
But it wasn't just her hair. It wasn't just her eyes. Worse were the unexpected tastes that bloomed on her tongue whenever she was around people. Her magic stirred, and it was as if she could taste their emotions and who they were, deep down inside.”
― House of Spells and Secrets
“I named you after my favorite tree. The rowan tree. It has white flowers in the spring, red berries in the fall, and the leaves turn yellow in autumn. It’s so delicate looking, but really it’s hardy and strong.” She smiled, bumping Rowan again. “It’s a tree of power, where magic will flower. That’s you.”
― House of Spells and Secrets
― House of Spells and Secrets
“I’m Rowan,” she said. “These are my sisters, Caraline and Saoirse.”
“Irish names,” the woman said, and then she muttered to herself just loud enough for them to hear, “The shamrock, the triskele, and the Triple Goddess. Powerful Celtic symbols.”
― House of Spells and Secrets
“Irish names,” the woman said, and then she muttered to herself just loud enough for them to hear, “The shamrock, the triskele, and the Triple Goddess. Powerful Celtic symbols.”
― House of Spells and Secrets
“True to being the firstborn, Caraline's magic was louder and warmer. It thrived in her cooking, when she folded it into dough and steeped it in broth. Rowan didn't know how hibiscus rolls could soften an argument, or why rosemary bread helped someone remember things that had long ago started to fade, but somehow they did. Caraline called it comfort, but Rowan knew it was enchantment.
Saoirse could coax flowers to bloom out of season and lure herbs to grow even in the heaviest clay soil. Her teas did more than soothe. Rowan had seen them ease fevers, quiet grief, and silence nightmares. Saoirse didn't call it magic, but Rowan had always felt it in the way a room calmed when she entered. She carried stillness like a cloak.
And then there was Rowan. She didn't brew curative tinctures or bake healing breads. Her magic, such as it was, served no purpose. It didn't look like theirs.
In fact, it didn't look like anything.
Her eyes, green like clover and threaded with gold, drew stares she couldn't explain. And her hair, with a single streak of impossible red, practically glowed in the moonlight. She tried to hide it, oh, how she tried. She used to bleach to turn it Marilyn Monroe blonde, but it didn't work. She dyed it every shade of brown, then black, thinking she could bury the flame. But it never lasted. The ruby streak always returned, a mark she couldn't shake.
People always looked at her a second too long, as if they could sense something inexplicable about her. Sometimes she even felt it too. But most of the time she felt like the odd one out with her sisters.
Saoirse had a head of red hair and her eyes were dark like pine needles. Unlike Rowan, she didn't long for friends. All she needed were her plants, herbs, and whatever flower she held at any given moment, plus the apothecary she always created wherever they lived. And, of course, the swallows, which she could make behave.
Caraline's hair was the color of midnight, which set off the flecks of amber in her eyes. She was the opposite of both Rowan and Saoirse. Friendships with women she could do without, but the attention she got from men? That practically fed her soul. At every new place they went, Caraline had herself a new beau within days.
And Rowan had her red streak.
But it wasn't just her hair. It wasn't just her eyes. Worse were the unexpected tastes that bloomed on her tongue whenever she was around people. Her magic stirred, and it was as if she could taste their emotions and who they were, deep down inside.”
― House of Spells and Secrets
Saoirse could coax flowers to bloom out of season and lure herbs to grow even in the heaviest clay soil. Her teas did more than soothe. Rowan had seen them ease fevers, quiet grief, and silence nightmares. Saoirse didn't call it magic, but Rowan had always felt it in the way a room calmed when she entered. She carried stillness like a cloak.
And then there was Rowan. She didn't brew curative tinctures or bake healing breads. Her magic, such as it was, served no purpose. It didn't look like theirs.
In fact, it didn't look like anything.
Her eyes, green like clover and threaded with gold, drew stares she couldn't explain. And her hair, with a single streak of impossible red, practically glowed in the moonlight. She tried to hide it, oh, how she tried. She used to bleach to turn it Marilyn Monroe blonde, but it didn't work. She dyed it every shade of brown, then black, thinking she could bury the flame. But it never lasted. The ruby streak always returned, a mark she couldn't shake.
People always looked at her a second too long, as if they could sense something inexplicable about her. Sometimes she even felt it too. But most of the time she felt like the odd one out with her sisters.
Saoirse had a head of red hair and her eyes were dark like pine needles. Unlike Rowan, she didn't long for friends. All she needed were her plants, herbs, and whatever flower she held at any given moment, plus the apothecary she always created wherever they lived. And, of course, the swallows, which she could make behave.
Caraline's hair was the color of midnight, which set off the flecks of amber in her eyes. She was the opposite of both Rowan and Saoirse. Friendships with women she could do without, but the attention she got from men? That practically fed her soul. At every new place they went, Caraline had herself a new beau within days.
And Rowan had her red streak.
But it wasn't just her hair. It wasn't just her eyes. Worse were the unexpected tastes that bloomed on her tongue whenever she was around people. Her magic stirred, and it was as if she could taste their emotions and who they were, deep down inside.”
― House of Spells and Secrets
“I named you after my favorite tree. The rowan tree. It has white flowers in the spring, red berries in the fall, and the leaves turn yellow in autumn. It’s so delicate looking, but really it’s hardy and strong.” She smiled, bumping Rowan again. “It’s a tree of power, where magic will flower. That’s you.”
― House of Spells and Secrets
― House of Spells and Secrets
