The Coven of the North Star series began, as all great ideas do, with me getting angry about something kind of stupid.
Actually, let’s back up for a second. How it happened was this: I was talking to a friend about supernatural fiction, and I started getting annoyed that practically every book with a supernatural twist was set in either New England (witches), the South (witches and vampires), or the Northwest (Twilight). “Where are my prairie witches?” I ranted. “We have about six hours of daylight the Upper Midwest for half the year. Why isn’t that spooky enough? Why do you have to have either Spanish Moss or a history of burning witches at the stake* to be considered as a setting for something supernatural?” I went on in this vein for quite some time before I realized that I could rectify the situation.
What was initially conceived as an atmospheric, semi-gothic take on prairie witches quickly became a humorous contemporary romance about witches in the Twin Cities because honestly, the atmospheric, semi-gothic angle bummed me out. And thus, the Coven of the North Star series was born.
*The victims of the Salem Witch Trials were mostly sentenced to death by hanging even though popular imagination prefers the “burned at the stake” narrative. This is the sort of quality, pedantic content you can expect from me.