Just Add Magic [NOOK Book]

Overview

Take three friends. Add an old cookbook. Combine with cute boys and a pinch of magic…and see what kind of chaos ensues! When Kelly Quinn and her two BFFs discover a dusty old cookbook while cleaning out the attic, the girls decide to try a few of the mysterious and supposedly magical recipes that are inside. To their surprise, the Keep ’Em Quiet Cobbler actually silences Kelly’s pesky little brother and the Hexberry Tart puts a curse on mean girl Charlotte. Is it possible that the recipes really are magic? Who ...
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Just Add Magic

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Overview

Take three friends. Add an old cookbook. Combine with cute boys and a pinch of magic…and see what kind of chaos ensues! When Kelly Quinn and her two BFFs discover a dusty old cookbook while cleaning out the attic, the girls decide to try a few of the mysterious and supposedly magical recipes that are inside. To their surprise, the Keep ’Em Quiet Cobbler actually silences Kelly’s pesky little brother and the Hexberry Tart puts a curse on mean girl Charlotte. Is it possible that the recipes really are magic? Who wrote them and where did they come from? And most importantly of all, when boys get involved, what kind of trouble are the girls stirring up for themselves?
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Editorial Reviews

School Library Journal
Gr 4–7—An ancient book of secret recipes hidden in a 1952 encyclopedia, two mysterious warnings, unusual ingredients from a spooky store owned by a kook, and three BFFs come together in this novel. Kelly Quinn loves to cook, play soccer, and hang out with Hannah and Darbie. The ancient cookbook gives them an eerie warning as does the owner of the small store where Kelly buys ingredients: "Beware of the law of returns." The 12-year-olds decide to try the recipes anyway and learn that this cookbook is anything but ordinary. Every time they serve one of the dishes, strange coincidences occur. Kelly decides to test the book by devising an experiment involving a cute boy in their class. But when the plan backfires, will it break up the girls' friendship or will they return to life as normal? The humorous story, while somewhat cheesy at points, is entertaining overall.—Sarah Polace, Cuyahoga County Public Library, Parma, OH
Children's Literature - Carly Reagan
Question: What do you get when you mix three middle school friends, a cryptic cookbook, and a secret cooking club? Answer: An exciting story about cooking, friendship, and doing what's right. Kelly Quinn, twelve-year-old chef extraordinaire, loves cooking more than anything. When she and her friends stumble upon a mysterious book of recipes, they decide to play with fate and end up mixing up more than just a pie filling! When the "Law of Returns" begins to show them that what goes around really does come around in the end, they set out to find the source of the recipes, and the cure for their effects, and the learn a thing or two about what is most important. The effervescent writing style, chock fun of tween terms such as "BFF" (Best Friend Forever) are off-putting at first, but vital to the creation of the mischievous antagonist's voice, and the clever recipe-themed intros to each chapter are fun and foreshadowing, drawing the reader happily into the next batch of excitement. A great story for the middle-grader who likes to cook, loves magic, or is just looking for a good story about three best friends in action. Reviewer: Carly Reagan
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781442402690
  • Publisher: Aladdin
  • Publication date: 10/12/2010
  • Sold by: SIMON & SCHUSTER
  • Format: eBook
  • Pages: 240
  • Sales rank: 206,458
  • Age range: 9 - 13 Years
  • File size: 3 MB

Meet the Author

Cindy Callaghan is the author of the middle grade novels Just Add Magic, Lost in London, and Lucky Me, all with Aladdin MIX. She lives in Wilmington, Delaware.
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Read an Excerpt

1
The Secret in the Attic

Question: What do you get when you mix two girls
hungry for cash with a cleaning project?

Answer: Kelly Quinn and Darbie O’Brien in a dark, dusty,
spider-webby attic on their last day of summer vacation.

Correction: I, Kelly Quinn, was cleaning. Darbie Rollerbladed in the clutter-free areas, careful not to bang her head on the rafters.

THUD!

I had missed Darbie this summer while she had been at her dad’s house at the beach and I had been at camp. “Are you okay?” I asked.

“Fine.” Darbie sat among the piles of attic stuff, rubbing her head. “Where did all this junk-arooni come from?” she asked.

“Some of it was my grandmother’s. And some belongs to the witch, Mrs. Silvers, from across the street. Her basement flooded years ago, and presto, we got her junk,” I said.

“Are you gonna give it back to her?”

“She says she doesn’t want any of it,” I said.

Darbie lifted a heavy old book out of a tub full of old books, magazines, and newspapers. “Check out this book. It looks older than my grandpa Stan.” She blew off the dust, her skin shining with sweat, and I noticed her freckles were dark from her beach tan. (I never mention her freckles out loud. Last time I did, she Rollerbladed over my sandwich: smoked ham and Muenster cheese, with honey mustard on rye.)

Books are “blah” to Darbie. I don’t love them myself, unless it’s my journal or one of my cookbooks.

Oh, BTW, I’m Kelly Quinn, age twelve, seventh-grader, lover of all things cooking, mediocre soccer player, average student, and best friend to Darbie O’Brien and Hannah Hernandez.

I wasn’t thrilled to spend my last day of summer vacation cleaning the attic. However, I needed the money, and any time I could spend hanging with one of my BFFs couldn’t be all that bad.

“Look, Kell,” Darbie said excitedly, dusting off a book. “It’s dated 1953.” For a book to capture Darbie’s attention, I figured it must’ve been something pretty interesting.

“Wow, that’s older than my mom.” I wiped the rest of the book off with the bottom of my T-shirt. “It’s a World Book Encyclopedia, Volume T.”

“Encyclopedia? Yuck!” Darbie tossed the book like it was a hot tamale burning her fingers. I was curious, so I flipped through it. I looked for “tamale.”

It only took a second for me to realize there was no tamale, tomato, turnovers, or anything else starting with the letter T. In fact, the book wasn’t filled with anything encyclopedia-ish. The original pages were pasted over with yellowed stationery. The papers were thick, a little crunchy, and stained in places. The words on the stationery were handwritten, a little sloppy, and a few were in Spanish. I knew what I was looking at right away.

These were recipes.

I sat on the trunk and looked at each heavy page. The names of the recipes were very interesting: Forget-Me-Not Cupcakes, Love Bug Juice, and Tell Me the Truth Tea. And there were notes written all around the edges of the stationery, in the margins of the encyclopedia.

“Darbie,” I said. “This isn’t an encyclopedia at all. It’s a bunch of recipes hidden in an encyclopedia. Do you know what that makes this?” I asked.

“A recipedia!” Darbie said, grabbing some chunky pearls and bejeweled sunglasses from a hatbox as she Rollerbladed by. “That sounds perfect for a Food Network junkie like you.” She was right. I love to cook. Ever since my encounter with the famous TV chef Felice Foudini herself, I haven’t been able to get enough of cooking. My mom and I cook together all the time, and my other BFF, Hannah, gave me the very first book in my cookbook collection, which consists of six books ranging across the meal, dessert, and snack spectrums. They’re stored on a kitchen shelf with different colored Post-it notes sticking out from all sides.

“No, not a recipedia. Listen to this stuff: ‘Induces sleep,’ ‘Keeps ’em quiet,’ ‘Brings your true amor.’ Darbie, there’s only one thing better than a cookbook, and that’s a Secret Recipe Book! And that’s exactly what this is.”

Just then, the latch on the attic door jiggled. It rattled hard like someone was trying to break in, which was strange because I would’ve preferred breaking out. Suddenly my sweaty mom, who had been cleaning out the garage, tumbled into the attic from pushing the door so hard. She stood at the top of the stairs with a red bandana covering her hair and ears, and yellow rubber dishwashing gloves covering her hands, looking like she’d just appeared on Extreme Makeover: Dork Edition. Thank goodness Hannah wasn’t here to see the outfit. She’s our local fashionista, particularly known for always color coordinating her headband, outfit, and socks.

“Mrs. Silvers just called.” Mom sounded frustrated that Mrs. Silvers had interrupted her cleaning day. “She said Rosey pooped in her yard again. Would you please go over and pick it up?”

Mrs. Silvers is my older-than-dirt neighbor from across the street and she’s as nasty as a witch. She’s convinced that Rosey, our beagle, flies over, or tunnels under, our fenced-in backyard every day for the sole purpose of pooping in her yard. One day, when Rosey was a puppy, before we had the fence, she actually did poop in that yard and Mrs. Silvers saw her. Rosey hasn’t left our yard since. Still, thanks to that incident, I scoop for every dog on Coyote Street that uses Mrs. Silvers’s yard as their personal bathroom.

While scooping didn’t thrill me, I was dying to get out of the hot attic to get some sunlight and fresh air. “Sure,” I said, and Mom vanished back down the stairs.

Darbie said, “She looks like she’s arming herself to enter a chicken pox colony.”

“Unlike you, my mom hates bugs and spiders. She won’t touch them. When she cleans, she’s afraid they’ll land in her hair or crawl into her ears,” I explained.

Darbie considered this. I could tell she was thinking about the bug thing.

“Before you ask, no. You can’t stay and catch any. Besides, bats and rats hang out in attics, not bugs,” I told her.

When our attic work was pretty much done, we headed across the street to Mrs. Silvers’s house. I walked, pooper-scooper in hand, while Darbie Rollerbladed. She blades pretty much everywhere. The crazy thing is that Darbie isn’t a great blader. She’s an okay blader who just manages to keep herself upright. (Of course, I don’t tell her that.) She stumbled to the driveway, to the sidewalk, to the street, to the grass. I held out my arm in case she needed it for balance.

I couldn’t get the Secret Recipe Book out of my mind. “Why do you think they’re hidden in the encyclopedia?”

“What? The recipes?” Darbie asked.

“Darb, not just any recipes, secret recipes.”

“Right. Well, they are probably hidden because they’re secret.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.” As we got to the yard I warned Darbie, “Don’t look directly into Mrs. Silvers’s eyes. You’ll turn to stone.”

Mrs. Silvers yelled from her front porch, “If I see that mutt again, I’m going to call the pound!” She was surprisingly loud for a woman who looked old enough to be dead. Besides the flabby wrinkles that hung from a face covered in a perpetual scowl, her white hair made her recognizable from miles away. It was short and somehow able to defy gravity by sticking straight up in the air. It reminded me of one of those toy trolls that sits on top of a pencil. And while I assumed she had feet, we couldn’t see them under the weird muumuu/housedress thing she always wore.

“Man, Silvers is a grouch-a-saurus,” Darbie said under her breath.

“You would be too if you were a hundred years old and bent over all crooked,” I said. I didn’t actually know how old she was, but a hundred sounded about right.

“Why do you have to scoop the poop?” Darbie asked.

“Since Rosey’s mostly my dog, I have to be responsible for her.” I mimicked my dad on “responsible for her.” “And because, if I don’t, I won’t get my allowance, which I need to support my Swirley habit.” Darbie nodded understandingly. She and Hannah had the habit too.

Super Swirleys were the best milkshakes in Delaware, and possibly the world. They’re ice cream and all kinds of other stuff blended into a heavenly frozen concoction. I can’t live without them. They were made at Sam’s Super iScream, which, luckily, was within walking distance from my house.

After a refreshing breath of mid-Atlantic air, we headed back across the street and entered my house through the garage. We stopped in the kitchen for ice water.

Our vegetable-themed kitchen was my favorite room in the house. The walls were painted artichoke green. Our plates were eggplant purple and stacked nicely in a tall glass-doored cabinet. The wallpaper border was a conga line of dancing carrots, cucumbers, bell peppers, radishes, and mushrooms, all with legs, holding pretty much every kitchen appliance, gadget, and accessory imaginable.

Mom appeared, thankfully sans her protective gear. Her spider-free blond hair was flipped up in a clip. She’d changed into a clean LIFE IS GOOD shirt, gray cotton miniskirt, and cute sandals: undorked. “If I pretend Darbie isn’t wearing Rollerblades in my kitchen, will you girls load all the attic stuff into the minivan?” she asked.

We kept quiet, not excited about loading.

“After that, maybe we’ll get you two busy bees a soda.”

Silence. No sale, as my dad would say.

“Oh, all right. After we drop off all the attic stuff at Goodwill, I’ll pay you for your work and treat you to Swirley’s.” We smiled.

Darbie asked Mom, “Can we maybe meet Hannah-Hoobi-Haha at the pool after her laps?” Darbie loved to add a little jazz to Hannah’s name.

Mom said, “I think we can do that.”

SOLD to the lady with the minivan!

Darbie and I looked at each other and did our happy dance by swiveling our hips in a small circle and shifting our bodies from side to side. We sang, “Oh yeah. It’s your birthday, it’s my birthday.”

Darbie switched to flip-flops and we loaded the van. I worked quickly because I was anxious to fill my belly with a Super Swirley and read the Secret Recipe Book. When we were done, I stuck the book in a canvas messenger bag that I wore across my chest.

As luck would have it, my little brother, Buddy, tagged along. He was five going on annoying. The only thing good about having Buddy with us was that he couldn’t be rummaging through my bedroom and smearing his boogers on the wall. (Seriously, I actually caught him doing it.) Before we were even out of the driveway he was singing “The Wheels on the Bus” painfully loud. Darbie and I put our hands over our ears. As we drove off in the noise-polluted, air-conditioned van, I saw Mrs. Silvers looking out her living room window.

Buddy sang, “ALL THROUGH THE TOWN!”

© 2010 Cindy Callaghan

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First Chapter

Just Add Magic


By Cindy Callaghan

Aladdin

Copyright © 2010 Cindy Callaghan
All right reserved.

ISBN: 9781442402683

1
The Secret in the Attic

Question: What do you get when you mix two girls
hungry for cash with a cleaning project?
Answer: Kelly Quinn and Darbie O’Brien in a dark, dusty,
spider-webby attic on their last day of summer vacation.

Correction: I, Kelly Quinn, was cleaning. Darbie Rollerbladed in the clutter-free areas, careful not to bang her head on the rafters.

THUD!

I had missed Darbie this summer while she had been at her dad’s house at the beach and I had been at camp. “Are you okay?” I asked.

“Fine.” Darbie sat among the piles of attic stuff, rubbing her head. “Where did all this junk-arooni come from?” she asked.

“Some of it was my grandmother’s. And some belongs to the witch, Mrs. Silvers, from across the street. Her basement flooded years ago, and presto, we got her junk,” I said.

“Are you gonna give it back to her?”

“She says she doesn’t want any of it,” I said.

Darbie lifted a heavy old book out of a tub full of old books, magazines, and newspapers. “Check out this book. It looks older than my grandpa Stan.” She blew off the dust, her skin shining with sweat, and I noticed her freckles were dark from her beach tan. (I never mention her freckles out loud. Last time I did, she Rollerbladed over my sandwich: smoked ham and Muenster cheese, with honey mustard on rye.)

Books are “blah” to Darbie. I don’t love them myself, unless it’s my journal or one of my cookbooks.

Oh, BTW, I’m Kelly Quinn, age twelve, seventh-grader, lover of all things cooking, mediocre soccer player, average student, and best friend to Darbie O’Brien and Hannah Hernandez.

I wasn’t thrilled to spend my last day of summer vacation cleaning the attic. However, I needed the money, and any time I could spend hanging with one of my BFFs couldn’t be all that bad.

“Look, Kell,” Darbie said excitedly, dusting off a book. “It’s dated 1953.” For a book to capture Darbie’s attention, I figured it must’ve been something pretty interesting.

“Wow, that’s older than my mom.” I wiped the rest of the book off with the bottom of my T-shirt. “It’s a World Book Encyclopedia, Volume T.”

“Encyclopedia? Yuck!” Darbie tossed the book like it was a hot tamale burning her fingers. I was curious, so I flipped through it. I looked for “tamale.”

It only took a second for me to realize there was no tamale, tomato, turnovers, or anything else starting with the letter T. In fact, the book wasn’t filled with anything encyclopedia-ish. The original pages were pasted over with yellowed stationery. The papers were thick, a little crunchy, and stained in places. The words on the stationery were handwritten, a little sloppy, and a few were in Spanish. I knew what I was looking at right away.

These were recipes.

I sat on the trunk and looked at each heavy page. The names of the recipes were very interesting: Forget-Me-Not Cupcakes, Love Bug Juice, and Tell Me the Truth Tea. And there were notes written all around the edges of the stationery, in the margins of the encyclopedia.

“Darbie,” I said. “This isn’t an encyclopedia at all. It’s a bunch of recipes hidden in an encyclopedia. Do you know what that makes this?” I asked.

“A recipedia!” Darbie said, grabbing some chunky pearls and bejeweled sunglasses from a hatbox as she Rollerbladed by. “That sounds perfect for a Food Network junkie like you.” She was right. I love to cook. Ever since my encounter with the famous TV chef Felice Foudini herself, I haven’t been able to get enough of cooking. My mom and I cook together all the time, and my other BFF, Hannah, gave me the very first book in my cookbook collection, which consists of six books ranging across the meal, dessert, and snack spectrums. They’re stored on a kitchen shelf with different colored Post-it notes sticking out from all sides.

“No, not a recipedia. Listen to this stuff: ‘Induces sleep,’ ‘Keeps ’em quiet,’ ‘Brings your true amor.’ Darbie, there’s only one thing better than a cookbook, and that’s a Secret Recipe Book! And that’s exactly what this is.”

Just then, the latch on the attic door jiggled. It rattled hard like someone was trying to break in, which was strange because I would’ve preferred breaking out. Suddenly my sweaty mom, who had been cleaning out the garage, tumbled into the attic from pushing the door so hard. She stood at the top of the stairs with a red bandana covering her hair and ears, and yellow rubber dishwashing gloves covering her hands, looking like she’d just appeared on Extreme Makeover: Dork Edition. Thank goodness Hannah wasn’t here to see the outfit. She’s our local fashionista, particularly known for always color coordinating her headband, outfit, and socks.

“Mrs. Silvers just called.” Mom sounded frustrated that Mrs. Silvers had interrupted her cleaning day. “She said Rosey pooped in her yard again. Would you please go over and pick it up?”

Mrs. Silvers is my older-than-dirt neighbor from across the street and she’s as nasty as a witch. She’s convinced that Rosey, our beagle, flies over, or tunnels under, our fenced-in backyard every day for the sole purpose of pooping in her yard. One day, when Rosey was a puppy, before we had the fence, she actually did poop in that yard and Mrs. Silvers saw her. Rosey hasn’t left our yard since. Still, thanks to that incident, I scoop for every dog on Coyote Street that uses Mrs. Silvers’s yard as their personal bathroom.

While scooping didn’t thrill me, I was dying to get out of the hot attic to get some sunlight and fresh air. “Sure,” I said, and Mom vanished back down the stairs.

Darbie said, “She looks like she’s arming herself to enter a chicken pox colony.”

“Unlike you, my mom hates bugs and spiders. She won’t touch them. When she cleans, she’s afraid they’ll land in her hair or crawl into her ears,” I explained.

Darbie considered this. I could tell she was thinking about the bug thing.

“Before you ask, no. You can’t stay and catch any. Besides, bats and rats hang out in attics, not bugs,” I told her.

When our attic work was pretty much done, we headed across the street to Mrs. Silvers’s house. I walked, pooper-scooper in hand, while Darbie Rollerbladed. She blades pretty much everywhere. The crazy thing is that Darbie isn’t a great blader. She’s an okay blader who just manages to keep herself upright. (Of course, I don’t tell her that.) She stumbled to the driveway, to the sidewalk, to the street, to the grass. I held out my arm in case she needed it for balance.

I couldn’t get the Secret Recipe Book out of my mind. “Why do you think they’re hidden in the encyclopedia?”

“What? The recipes?” Darbie asked.

“Darb, not just any recipes, secret recipes.”

“Right. Well, they are probably hidden because they’re secret.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.” As we got to the yard I warned Darbie, “Don’t look directly into Mrs. Silvers’s eyes. You’ll turn to stone.”

Mrs. Silvers yelled from her front porch, “If I see that mutt again, I’m going to call the pound!” She was surprisingly loud for a woman who looked old enough to be dead. Besides the flabby wrinkles that hung from a face covered in a perpetual scowl, her white hair made her recognizable from miles away. It was short and somehow able to defy gravity by sticking straight up in the air. It reminded me of one of those toy trolls that sits on top of a pencil. And while I assumed she had feet, we couldn’t see them under the weird muumuu/housedress thing she always wore.

“Man, Silvers is a grouch-a-saurus,” Darbie said under her breath.

“You would be too if you were a hundred years old and bent over all crooked,” I said. I didn’t actually know how old she was, but a hundred sounded about right.

“Why do you have to scoop the poop?” Darbie asked.

“Since Rosey’s mostly my dog, I have to be responsible for her.” I mimicked my dad on “responsible for her.” “And because, if I don’t, I won’t get my allowance, which I need to support my Swirley habit.” Darbie nodded understandingly. She and Hannah had the habit too.

Super Swirleys were the best milkshakes in Delaware, and possibly the world. They’re ice cream and all kinds of other stuff blended into a heavenly frozen concoction. I can’t live without them. They were made at Sam’s Super iScream, which, luckily, was within walking distance from my house.

After a refreshing breath of mid-Atlantic air, we headed back across the street and entered my house through the garage. We stopped in the kitchen for ice water.

Our vegetable-themed kitchen was my favorite room in the house. The walls were painted artichoke green. Our plates were eggplant purple and stacked nicely in a tall glass-doored cabinet. The wallpaper border was a conga line of dancing carrots, cucumbers, bell peppers, radishes, and mushrooms, all with legs, holding pretty much every kitchen appliance, gadget, and accessory imaginable.

Mom appeared, thankfully sans her protective gear. Her spider-free blond hair was flipped up in a clip. She’d changed into a clean LIFE IS GOOD shirt, gray cotton miniskirt, and cute sandals: undorked. “If I pretend Darbie isn’t wearing Rollerblades in my kitchen, will you girls load all the attic stuff into the minivan?” she asked.

We kept quiet, not excited about loading.

“After that, maybe we’ll get you two busy bees a soda.”

Silence. No sale, as my dad would say.

“Oh, all right. After we drop off all the attic stuff at Goodwill, I’ll pay you for your work and treat you to Swirley’s.” We smiled.

Darbie asked Mom, “Can we maybe meet Hannah-Hoobi-Haha at the pool after her laps?” Darbie loved to add a little jazz to Hannah’s name.

Mom said, “I think we can do that.”

SOLD to the lady with the minivan!

Darbie and I looked at each other and did our happy dance by swiveling our hips in a small circle and shifting our bodies from side to side. We sang, “Oh yeah. It’s your birthday, it’s my birthday.”

Darbie switched to flip-flops and we loaded the van. I worked quickly because I was anxious to fill my belly with a Super Swirley and read the Secret Recipe Book. When we were done, I stuck the book in a canvas messenger bag that I wore across my chest.

As luck would have it, my little brother, Buddy, tagged along. He was five going on annoying. The only thing good about having Buddy with us was that he couldn’t be rummaging through my bedroom and smearing his boogers on the wall. (Seriously, I actually caught him doing it.) Before we were even out of the driveway he was singing “The Wheels on the Bus” painfully loud. Darbie and I put our hands over our ears. As we drove off in the noise-polluted, air-conditioned van, I saw Mrs. Silvers looking out her living room window.

Buddy sang, “ALL THROUGH THE TOWN!”

© 2010 Cindy Callaghan



Continues...

Excerpted from Just Add Magic by Cindy Callaghan Copyright © 2010 by Cindy Callaghan. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4.5
( 27 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(19)

4 Star

(4)

3 Star

(2)

2 Star

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 27 Customer Reviews
  • Posted January 6, 2011

    more from this reviewer

    Reviewed by Jennifer Rummel for Teens Read Too

    While cleaning out the attic, Kelly Quinn discovers an old book. Normally, that might not catch her eye, but when she opens it, she discovers recipes. Kelly adores cooking and she can't wait to try out some new recipes. Now that she and her two BFFs are starting seventh grade, it could be time to start their very own cooking club. As she reads the recipes, some of the ingredients are unfamiliar to her. She wanders into a store to gather the ingredients. After purchasing the items, the store owner tells her to beware of the laws of return. Kelly doesn't think much of this warning at first. It isn't until she witnesses the results of their cooking experiments that she become suspicious. Did she make her brother stop talking? Did she hex her frenemy? Did she cause her cranky old neighbor to fall dangerously ill? Kelly isn't sure if it's the book working its magic or if these incidents are simply coincidences. Either way, the magic is ruining her life. She's forced into helping her frenemy. Her best friends aren't happy with her. Can she reverse all of the spells she's cast through her cooking? I enjoyed this tween read - a great novel about friendship, karma, and mistakes. I loved the magical elements combined with cooking. I enjoyed Kelly's pesky younger brother, the craziness that ensued due to the spells, the bits with Charlotte, and the friendship between the three girls.

    8 out of 9 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted January 18, 2011

    just add magic

    greatest book i've read so far on my nook!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:):););)

    3 out of 5 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted November 22, 2011

    Madicole2001

    I never got this book on the nook only at bookstore but this a awsome book. Its really cool if u like reading this a must get book :D

    2 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted December 31, 2011

    Quite Good

    I really adorde this book!

    2 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted September 28, 2011

    loved it so muchh i couldnt put it down

    i finished this book in 1 day it was so good. i couldnt put it down

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 27, 2011

    Luv it

    Omg i luv it u got to luv this boik

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted April 13, 2011

    read it noww and luv it

    buy it now it is probly the best book i have every read

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted January 29, 2011

    good book!

    very great book. just read the sample. very nice,i want to buy it!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 3, 2011

    a great book

    i just got the book and i heard from school that the author is coming eather way i love it

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 2, 2013

    I don't usually read books of this age range, but I decided to g

    I don't usually read books of this age range, but I decided to give this one a shot and I am glad I did. I loved the storyline, the plot, and the development of the characters. The story was based on an intriguing idea and Mrs. Callaghan took and flew with it. I highly recommend the book to anyone! 

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 21, 2013

    After reading all of the great on-line reviews, I decided to buy

    After reading all of the great on-line reviews, I decided to buy this book for my 10-year-old daughter. She loved it! I don’t think she’s ever read a book so quickly. The author has a writing style that definitely rings true for tween readers. And the story has the perfect amount of humor and mystery—plus amazing recipes! My daughter and I also LOVED the author’s second book “Lost in London”. I highly recommend both books—they’ll make great holiday gifts!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 16, 2013

    Anonamous

    It wws very good but it could be boring in some parts but otherwise funny and enjoyable

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 30, 2013

    Amazing book!!!!!!

    This book was amazing!! It exciting and definetly a page turner!!! Would recommend this to any girl!!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 18, 2013

    Sounds good

    I got a sample and i am reading it right now. Its really cool. :)

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 28, 2012

    Goid

    THIS IS AN AMAZING BOOK! I AM WRITING IN ALL CAPS TO TELL YOU HOW MUCH I LOOVVEEEEE THIS BOOK AND TO SHOW HOW MUCH I WANT YOU TO BY THIS BOOK! ITS AMAZING! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE BY IT! TRUST ME! IGNORE ALL THE COMMENTS THAT SAY SOMETHING MEAN OR HATEFUL ABOUT THIS BOOK! CAUSE THEY ARE W-R-O-N-G! WRONG! THIS IS AN AMAZING BOOK! IM 12 AND A VERY PICKY READER! OH YEAH, THE PERSON THAT SAID THAT THIS BOOK SUCKS, OBVIOUSLY DOESNT HAVE A GOOD TASTE (pun intended) IN LITERATURE! AND THE PERSON THAT SAID IT SOUNDS STUPID,DONT COMMENT UNLESS U HAVE READ THE BOOK! AND IT IS NOT STUPID!IF SOMEONE ASKS "SHOULD I BUY" LOOK AT THE COMMENTS ABD SEE! OK SOO OVERALL, PLEASE BUY THIS AWESOME BOOK! :)

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 21, 2012

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 25, 2012

    Ummmmm

    Havent read sounds stupid

    0 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 6, 2012

    Awesome book!!

    I love this book and think everyone shouuld read it:)

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 10, 2012

    Very Good

    Perfect for any young cook!

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted March 13, 2011

    horrible book

    this book SUCKS!!!!!!!!!!

    0 out of 7 people found this review helpful.

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