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Corrine Eva
https://www.goodreads.com/corrineeva
“Maybe she feels like a jerk about leaving him at Pitch Manor on Christmas Eve. I know I do. The vibe here is very, Let's kill a virgin and write a great Led Zeppelin album”
― Carry On
― Carry On
“Reading is not lonely.”
― Fangirl
― Fangirl
“The whole prophecy is bollocks," I say. "'And one will come to end us. And one will bring his fall.' Did I also bring my own fall?"
"No," Baz says. "That was me. Obviously."
"How did you bring my fall? I stopped the Humdrum myself."
Baz looks back at his phone, bored. "Fell in love, didn't you?”
― Carry On
"No," Baz says. "That was me. Obviously."
"How did you bring my fall? I stopped the Humdrum myself."
Baz looks back at his phone, bored. "Fell in love, didn't you?”
― Carry On
“So . . . ,” she says, following him to the chalkboard. “You got a Visiting. An actual Visiting—Natasha Grimm-Pitch was here.”
Baz glances back over his shoulder. “You sound impressed, Bunce.”
“I am,” Penelope says. “Your mother was a hero. She developed a spell for gnomeatic fever. And she was the youngest headmaster in Watford history.”
Baz is looking at Penny like they’ve never met.
“And,” Penny goes on, “she defended your father in three duels before he accepted her proposal.”
“That sounds barbaric,” I say.
“It was traditional,” Baz says.
“It was brilliant,” Penny says. “I’ve read the minutes.”
“Where?” Baz asks her.
“We have them in our library at home,” she says. “My dad loves marriage rites. Any sort of family magic, actually. He and my mother are bound together in five dimensions.”
“That’s lovely,” Baz says, and I’m terrified because I think he means it.
“I’m going to make time stop when I propose to Micah,” she says.
“The little American? With the thick glasses?”
“Not so little anymore.”
“Interesting.” Baz rubs his chin. “My mother hung the moon.”
“She was a legend,” Penelope beams.
“I thought your parents hated the Pitches,” I say.
They both look at me like I’ve just stuck my hand in the soup bowl.
“That’s politics,” Penelope says. “We’re talking about magic.”
“Obviously,” I say. “What was I thinking.”
“Obviously,” Baz says. “You weren’t.”
“What’s happening right now?” I say. “What are we even doing?”
Penelope folds her arms and squints at the chalkboard. “We,” she declares, “are finding out who killed Natasha Grimm-Pitch.”
“The legend,” Baz says.
Penelope gives him a soft look, the kind she usually saves for me. “So she can rest in peace.”
― Carry On
Baz glances back over his shoulder. “You sound impressed, Bunce.”
“I am,” Penelope says. “Your mother was a hero. She developed a spell for gnomeatic fever. And she was the youngest headmaster in Watford history.”
Baz is looking at Penny like they’ve never met.
“And,” Penny goes on, “she defended your father in three duels before he accepted her proposal.”
“That sounds barbaric,” I say.
“It was traditional,” Baz says.
“It was brilliant,” Penny says. “I’ve read the minutes.”
“Where?” Baz asks her.
“We have them in our library at home,” she says. “My dad loves marriage rites. Any sort of family magic, actually. He and my mother are bound together in five dimensions.”
“That’s lovely,” Baz says, and I’m terrified because I think he means it.
“I’m going to make time stop when I propose to Micah,” she says.
“The little American? With the thick glasses?”
“Not so little anymore.”
“Interesting.” Baz rubs his chin. “My mother hung the moon.”
“She was a legend,” Penelope beams.
“I thought your parents hated the Pitches,” I say.
They both look at me like I’ve just stuck my hand in the soup bowl.
“That’s politics,” Penelope says. “We’re talking about magic.”
“Obviously,” I say. “What was I thinking.”
“Obviously,” Baz says. “You weren’t.”
“What’s happening right now?” I say. “What are we even doing?”
Penelope folds her arms and squints at the chalkboard. “We,” she declares, “are finding out who killed Natasha Grimm-Pitch.”
“The legend,” Baz says.
Penelope gives him a soft look, the kind she usually saves for me. “So she can rest in peace.”
― Carry On
“Great snakes!” Penny says, snatching her hand away from me and jumping off the bed. “Fuck a nine-toed troll, Simon.” She’s shaking her hand, and there are tears in her eyes. “Stevie Nicks and Gracie Slick! Fuck!”
― Carry On
― Carry On
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CARRY ON is available as a paperback on 5/9! Order your copy today!
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