9 Days of Hot Key: Day 8, UNDER MY HAT

Can’t you just see it now…belly full from Christmas lunch, curled up in a warm blanket next to the fire (or radiator), losing yourself in a giant collection of wonderfully scary stories…sounds perfect, doesn’t it?

Well today, on day 8 of the 9 Days of Hot Key Books, you can make sure you have just the book to complete that cozy Christmas tableau. Our book of the day is UNDER MY HAT: TALES FROM THE CAULDRON, edited by Jonathan Strahan. For today only, you can get a hardcover edition of this book for 50% off, and we’ll throw in gift-wrapping and shipping for free!

UNDER MY HAT

Just to entice you further, here are the first lines of every story in this great collection, which are written by some of the most amazing fantasy writers:

Stray Magic, by Diana Peterfreund
“You can’t have this job unless you love animals, but if you love animals, it’s hard to have this job.”

Payment Due, by Frances Hardinge
“When I got home from school, I saw a strange man walking out through our front door, and Gran waving to him as he went.”

A Handful of Ashes, by Garth Nix
“‘There’s the bell again,” groaned Francesca. She reluctantly lifted her eyes from the copy of An Introduction to Lammas, Night Curses, and Counter-Curses that she’d been studying, and looked across at the indicator board that dominated an entire wall of the servants’ room.”

Little Gods, by Holly Black
“When Ellery was little, her grandmother would take her to church on Sundays. Even though Ellery’s parents had long ago given up on religion, her grandmother said that was no excuse for raising their child to be a little heathen.”

Barrio Girls, by Charles de Lint
“Ruby and Vida are best friends. The look so much alike they could be twins but Vida is two days older and Ruby is two inches taller. They live next do to each other in a trailer park where the barrio turns into the desert.”

Felidis, by Tanith Lee
“‘Don’t go in those woods–there’s a terrifying girl–a female there–and she’s a cat.'”

Witch Work, by Neil Gaiman
“The witch was as old as the mulberry tree.
She lived in the house of a hundred clocks.”

The Education of A Witch, by Ellen Klages
“Lizzy is an untidy, intelligent child. Her dark hair resists combs, framing her face like thistles. Her clothes do not stay clean or tucked in or pressed. Some days, they do not stay on. Her arms and face are nut brown, her bare legs sturdy and grimy.”

The Threefold World, by Ellen Kushner
“When he was an old man, honored by his countrymen and foreign scholalrs alike, Elias Lönnrot was still a humble person.”

The Witch in the Wood, by Delia Sherman
“When I first saw my true love, he was lying by a brook at the foot of a bog oak.”

Which Witch, by Patricia A. McKillip
“Liesl, that grinch, stoel my G string. ‘Borrowed,’ she said. Ha! So I had to limp along on a Spinreel G so old it was liable to snap at any moment with a twang in pure country, while she wailed along like she was summoning the devil to dance, with her long black hair tangling in her bow until it seemed she was pulling the song out of her hair instead of her fiddle.”

The Carved Forest, by Tim Pratt
“Carlos didn’t believe in witches, of course, but he did believe in crazy old women with shotguns who menaced anyone who wandered onto their property, so he parked his mother’s car some distance away and approached the witch’s house on foot, avoiding the long driveway and cutting through the piney woods that surrounded her property.

Burning Castles, by M. Rickert
“Only recently have I come to suspect she lies about everything.”

The Stone Witch by Isobelle Carmody
“Here’s the thing. I hate kids. I always have.”

Andersen’s Witch, by Jane Yolen
“The boy lay in his too-small settle bed, his feet dangling over the end.”

B is for Bigfoot by Jim Butcher
“When people come to the only professional wizard in the Chicago phone book for help, they’re one of two things: desperate or smart. Very rarely are they both.”

Great-Grandmother in the Cellar, by Peter S. Beagle
“I thought he had killed her.”

Crow and Caper, Caper and Crow, by Margo Lanagan
“Pen walked a long time back and forth, clacking the shells in her pocket. The light was harsh an yellowish, the coulds were like smoke off some disaster, and the sea had a nasty impatience about it, waves corssing one another throwing their hands up.”

Now that you HAVE to know the rest of each of these stories, why not pick up a copy of the book for 50% off? Click here to get yours!

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