By Erin McGuire, Kathryn Littlewood
This moment e-book within the acclaimed Bliss trilogy mixes the down-home heart-punch of Ingrid Law's Newbery Honor e-book Savvy, the always-on-the-edge-of-chaos comedy of Cheaper via the Dozen, and a funny magic all its personal to create a completely unique confection to thrill each reader's candy tooth!
The Bliss family's magical Cookery Booke used to be stolen through evil Aunt Lily on the finish of Bliss, the 1st novel within the sequence. Now twelve-year-old Rosemary has an opportunity to win it again: she demanding situations her aunt to an Iron Chef-style foreign baking festival in Paris. however the in simple terms strategy to beat the dishonest Aunt Lily is to assemble magical components of her personal. with her brothers and their conversing cat and mouse, Rose races throughout Paris--from the Eiffel Tower to the Cathedral of Notre Dame to the Mona Lisa within the Louvre Museum--to assemble what she must out-bake--and out-magic--her conniving aunt.
If Rose wins, the adored Cookery Booke will go back to her kinfolk the place it belongs. If she loses--well, the implications are too gruesome to consider. . . .
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Additional resources for A Dash of Magic (Bliss Bakery Trilogy, Book 2)
She moved in the winter of third grade. I sat with my chin on the windowsill and stared across the street as they unloaded the moving van. A guy carried out a kid-sized bike and a pink plastic dollhouse. I crossed my ﬁngers. Our development was still raw, mostly unﬁnished skeleton houses and freezing pits of mud. I was dying for somebody my age to play with. My babysitter walked me and a pot of coffee across to meet the new people. The house was exactly like ours only ﬂipped backwards, with the same smell of new paint and clean carpets.
Thorn-covered vines creep across the ﬂoor, crackling like a bonﬁre. Black roses bloom in the moonlight, born dead and brittle. The web on my face holds my eyes open, forcing me to watch as Cassie steps out of the shadows, briars twining up her legs and around her body, reaching up through her hair. One minute she’s by the door, the next, she stands over me. The temperature in the room has dropped twenty degrees. Her voice is in my head. “Lia,” she says. I can’t make a sound. Spiders crawl on my face and leap across to her arms.
The ball slips out of her hands and rolls toward the ﬁeld. ” She ﬁnally looks up. ” I start the engine. “My teachers will love you for making me deal with it. ” ) % She smiles. “Okay. ” I roll up the window. I wish I had cancer. I will burn in hell for that, but it’s true. & ) The air at the gas station is heavy with diesel and the smell of rancid deep-fryer fat from the McDonald’s next door. 30 pounds. I had to eat at Thanksgiving (vultures all around the table), but since then it’s been mostly water and rice cakes.