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Coming September 2026

Protect the Crossing. Protect the town. Protect her heart.

Two years ago, Joelle arrived in Mullarkey Mills chasing answers and ghosts. Deep in the forest, she found a crumbling, long-forgotten inn—and a sense of belonging she never expected. Now Cedar Grove Inn is her home, her purpose, and her secret. Because hidden on its grounds lies the Hallow Crossing, a rare and dangerous threshold between the mortal world and the fae.

Keeping the crossing safe is a full-time job… and that’s before the renovation headaches begin.

Between hammering floorboards, coaxing stubborn doors to behave, and managing guests with more curiosity than caution, Joelle is stretched to her limit. A relentless paranormal investigator checks in with cameras rolling and questions Joelle can’t afford to answer. Strange happenings ripple through the inn. And the fae are always watching—especially the queen beyond the crossing, who is determined to keep humans out of her realm and her people from ever leaving it again.

Then Oscar arrives—quiet, grieving, and far too perceptive. He sees more than Joelle wants revealed, including the truth behind her careful distance. His feelings are clear. Hers are…complicated.

As outside attention threatens to expose the inn’s deepest magic, Joelle must decide who to trust, what to reveal, and how much she’s willing to risk to protect the Hallow Crossing. Because if its secrets come to light, Mullarkey Mills won’t just lose its newest innkeeper—it may lose the boundary that keeps the fae from walking straight through the door.

Warm, whimsical, and threaded with enchantment, Hallow Crossing is Book Two in The Fair Folk of Mullarkey—a cozy fae fantasy series brimming with found family, small town warmth, and hearts brave enough to go looking for magic.

Content Warning: click here for trigger warnings and heat levels.

When her phone rang, she didn’t think to check the number before answering. 

“Joelle? Is that really you?” Her mother’s sharp voice made Joelle wince. She really needed to give Marilla a special ring tone so this didn’t happen.

“Nice of you to finally answer,” Marilla said. “I was about to request a proof-of-life picture to make sure you were still alive.” 

Joelle had been avoiding her calls. It was a terrible habit, but one that came after years of listening to her mother lament her life choices. 

Marilla Martin knew the value of money. It brought luxury and opportunity, but most importantly, it brought stability, something she’d hammered into her daughters’ heads from a young age. As far as Marilla was concerned, when Joelle bought the inn, she’d given up her comfortably safe life. She couldn’t have been more reckless if she’d taken up free diving.

So yes, Joelle avoided her calls.

“Hi Mom. I’m alive. Just busy.” She set the audio to speaker and laid the phone on the desk. For the next five minutes, she listened to Marilla complain about her latest charity event (the food had been cold) and her neighbor’s dog (it barked all the time) and the dozen other slights that filled her days. While she listened, Joelle browsed social media for local events. Maybe she could advertise through local markets…

Something Marilla said caught her attention. 

“…I know one of the board members since we’re on the arts council together. I’m sure he would put in a good word for you.”

“A good word? For what?”

“For the executive position at Harper’s. Honestly, Joelle, sometimes I think you don’t hear a word I say.”

Joelle let that slide. It was a fair accusation. But she couldn’t let the rest go.

“Mom, you know I’m not looking for a job. I wish you’d stop trying to force me back into the corporate world. I have my inn to renovate. Things are looking up. I have new bookings every week.” She flipped the calendar to the end of the month. It was depressingly bare.

“But you can’t actually live in that…that backwoods.” Marilla didn’t try to hide her exasperation.

“Why not? You grew up here.” Joelle was pushing her. She knew exactly why Marilla didn’t want her living in Mullarkey. Penny had disappeared from this area. In Marilla’s mind, it was cursed. Joelle wanted to hear her mother admit it. They’d never spoken of Penny’s disappearance, and that omission sat like a cold, hard rock in Joelle’s chest.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line before Marilla sighed and said, “Exactly. So I know what a dump it is.”

Joelle felt irrationally angry at the slur to her home. The inn creaked and she absently rubbed the wood counter. 

The front door opened and a man walked in. 

“Mom, I have to go. Don’t sign me up for any jobs.”

“Joelle, you’re being difficult.” That was Mom’s favorite saying. In her mind, there was nothing worse than a difficult child. Joelle had learned to embrace it.

“I am difficult, Mom. But I really have to go.” She hung up even as Marilla protested.

The man walked slowly toward the desk as if measuring each step. He was tall and made taller by a crushed velvet top hat that covered most of his black hair. His coat was long and it hung open to reveal an old-fashioned linen shirt and a white scarf tied around his neck. 

He looked like he was dressed for a Renaissance Faire. 

Then he lifted his gaze to meet Joelle’s, and his eyes stopped her breath. They were deep blue and haunted. A thin, straight nose rested between high cheekbones and above a full mouth that was set in a frown. He carried no suitcase, only a wooden box that he placed carefully on the reception desk. 

Joelle’s glance took in the ornate scroll work on the box before flicking back to her guest’s face. 

“I would be grateful to rent one room for one night.” His voice was quiet and his tone oddly cadenced. 

“Of course. Did you just come in from Ottawa?” The closest Renaissance was on the other side of the city. “That’s a long drive. You must be tired.” Joelle was practicing her best innkeeper small talk. The man wasn’t frightening or threatening, but his steady gaze unnerved her. She scanned the logbook and pretended that the calendar wasn’t empty. On a whim, she set the cursor into the block for the Sunset Room.

“I have the perfect room, Mr…?”

“MacOisin. Oscar MacOisin.” He tipped his velvet hat. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance Mistress Innkeeper.”

“Please, call me Joelle.” She could feel the heat of a blush in her cheeks. 

“Then I should be pleased if you would name me Oscar.”