Why Does The Bewitching Hour: A Tara Prequel Have Mixed Reviews?

My mom is a famous perfumer who's well-known in town. But her perfumes are charged per session. One session costs 200 thousand dollars. She only takes in ten customers per month, too. Those who have used the perfumes my mom has concocted will be enveloped by the perfumes' unique fragrance that leaves an unforgettable impression on those who have smelled it. In fact, the fragrance is capable of covering up the customers' body odor, no matter how strong it is. One session will leave the customers with enough fragrance that lasts for a month. Countless celebrities and rich women specifically travel to this town just to frequent my mom's business. Everyone sings praises about my mom, claiming that she's the mistress of all fragrances who's here to bless humanity with her gift. But I know that my mom isn't as amazing as everyone thinks she is. The only reason why her business is booming like this is all thanks to the "thing" that she keeps locked up in that room…

Tara Deidre Morgenstern is a sixteen year old antisocial witch whose dream is to finish middle school and leave her horrid past behind. As usual life's being a bitch and decides to take Tara on an emotional rollercoaster. Tara becomes an orphan and a vampire in one night. She is forced to leave home and move into the vampire kingdom. There she meets Jake Ashe, the guy who seems to have made it his life's mission to ruin her life. Throw in the fact that she's been in love with his twin who is dating her half step sister who hates her very being and pretends that she doesn't exist. Tara is tormented in high school as she deals with teenage boy problems, high school drama and juggles trying to find her sire and the murderer of her parents. In time her thirst for revenge will put a choice before her. Love or revenge?

"My heritage is a strange one, my destiny even stranger. My journey is not for the faint hearted, and even my friends cannot truly be trusted. Yet I will come out on top, for I am the Supreme"Our story starts on the planet of Zandor, as a young boy realizes that his path isn't as simple as it seems. Follow Mane as he strives to understand what it means to be a Supreme, and uncover the reason why so many gods want him dead.

Lydia, 22 year old, beautiful and brave woman who was taken by her Aunt after her parents sudden death. Life hasn't being going on smoothly for her, a cheating boyfriend and her insecurities. One day, Lydia found out all her life has been a life as she found out the reason behind her parents death. On her way to report to the police station, she was taken by unknown and upon all struggle, she was thrown down the sea only to wake up finding a stranger as her savior

Julia was a human girl living alone in the woods when she stumbled upon an injured man, or so she thought. She brought this man into her home and treated and fed him not knowing that this man was not a human and was imprisoned away for a reason. Ezekiel is a monster, a beast. He who lives for bloodthirst and war. He has never loved and never will but as days and months pass by, he starts to become more tamed, less agile. The human girl does not know that she had freed something that should never be freed. How will Julia react when she discovers his real identity? How will Ezekiel handle if the human girl he's mated to discovers what a monster he is?

I stood at the edge of Ironwood territory, boots sinking into mud as cold seeped through my coat. I hated being this close to their land. It smelled like wet dog, testosterone, and trouble. “You’re late, witch.” The voice hit low and deep, vibrating through the ground before it reached my ears. I didn’t flinch. I refused to give him that. I turned slowly, amethyst eyes narrowing as I found him at the tree line. Guilermo Santander. He stepped into the gray light, rain sliding off his broad frame. Six-foot-five of pure menace. Dark hair plastered to his forehead, silver streaks catching the gloom, and those amber eyes—burning straight through me. “I’m not late,” I said calmly, though my pulse spiked. “You wolves just don’t understand patience.” He stopped three feet away. My skin prickled as the runes along my ribs flared hot, reacting to the dense magic rolling off him. Suffocating. Intoxicating. “And you witches don’t understand territory,” Guilermo said. He didn’t sound feral. He sounded tired—like a man carrying a century of weight on deceptively young shoulders. He leaned in and sniffed near my neck. I stiffened. “You smell like sage and burnt sugar,” he murmured, voice dropping, darker now. “It’s giving me a headache.” “Then stop breathing,” I snapped. One corner of his mouth lifted, a flash of sharp canine. “Make me.” The air between us snapped tight. My magic stirred, violet haze curling from my fingertips without permission, brushing the leather of his jacket. He didn’t pull away. He leaned closer. And standing there in the freezing rain with a man who could tear my throat out, I realized two things: Elder Sibal was wrong—Guilermo wasn’t a monster to be chained. And I was in serious trouble.