Summerlands

A Coming-of-Age Fantasy of Grief, Magic, and Choice

After the loss of her grandmother, Cara’s world no longer feels like home. Isolated and searching for meaning, she’s drawn deep into the woods—where a hidden cottage and a mysterious woman named Gwen await her arrival. What begins as a chance encounter soon unravels a truth that changes everything: Cara’s grandmother lived a secret life as a witch, and the same power now stirs within her.

As Cara steps into the enchanting yet dangerous realm of the Summerlands, she uncovers a legacy woven with magic, family secrets, and unanswered questions. Along the way, she meets Leo—quiet, perceptive, and carrying burdens of his own—whose presence offers both comfort and guidance as her abilities begin to awaken. But the deeper Cara ventures into this hidden world, the more distant her old life becomes.

When Shayla appears—charismatic, powerful, and offering magic beyond anything Cara has known—the line between light and shadow begins to blur. Tempted by strength and belonging, Cara must confront a choice that could shape not only her destiny, but the fate of the Summerlands itself.

Summerlands by Lucinda Lamont is a richly layered coming-of-age fantasy exploring grief, first love, identity, and the seductive pull of power. Perfect for readers who enjoy emotional depth alongside immersive magical worlds.

Discover the truth behind Cara’s legacy and step into a world where every choice carries weight—get your copy of Summerlands today.

Excerpt from the book

Cara pressed her forehead against the icy plane window, watching the clouds ripple below like a restless sea. The city had vanished a short while ago, replaced by open sky and the slow, curling descent towards the Scottish coast. She tapped her nails against the tray table, a nervous habit, but her lips held a soft, private smile. She was going to see Grandma Edith. The one person who still knew her heart.

It had been nearly a year since they last saw each other. Life had swept her away. Endless meetings, the cacophony of city noise, friendships that skimmed the surface but never touched the soul. None of it mattered now. She was returning to her anchor.

The plane touched down in Aberdeen with a jolt that rattled her teeth. From there, she boarded a much smaller aircraft. It offered only a dozen seats, twin propellers, and a pilot who looked barely old enough to shave. Cara didn’t mind. The smaller the plane, the closer she was to Edith.

They flew low over craggy coastlines, dark rock against a pewter sea. She glimpsed moorland stitched with ancient stone walls, sheep scattered like misplaced clouds. The land felt old. Watchful.

By the time they landed on the island’s single airstrip, a thin scratch in the wilderness, the sky had turned a heavy grey, streaked with slanting light. Cara stepped out and pulled her coat tight around her neck. The wind struck her at once, not just cold but full of something ancient and wild. It smelled of salt and heather and stories, like breath from the bones of the island.

The landscape stretched outwards in shades of grey and green, beautiful in its barrenness. Only the occasional croft or chimney broke the horizon. Her boots crunched against the gravel as she crossed the airfield, the sound bringing her to her senses.

An old man in oilskins leaned against a battered Land Rover, arms folded as though he’d been waiting all day. He gave her a long, squinting look.

“You’re Edith’s girl, aren’t you?”

Cara blinked. “Yes. I’m her granddaughter. Cara.”

He nodded once, as if that explained everything. “She’ll be glad of you. Not had a visitor in some time. The weather has kept most folk away.”

She offered a polite smile, unsure of what to say. He climbed into the driver’s seat and gestured for her to hop in the back.

The drive wound through narrow lanes barely wide enough for the car, flanked by moss-covered stone walls. The sky darkened, heavy with the promise of rain, though none had yet fallen. The wind whispered through the vast heathland, tugging at the car and moaning through the hills like a voice just out of reach.

As they climbed higher, the land grew wilder. Heather stretched in every direction, and the air sharpened, as if filtered through centuries of solitude. Then, around a bend thick with gorse, Cara saw it. The cottage.

Small and square, perched high on a ridge, it held memory like a hearth holds flame. Warm light flickered in the windows. Candlelight. Her heart surged.