The Ordinary Bruja: Marisol’s Story (Las Cerradoras, #1) by Johanny Ortega

What does it cost to embrace every part of yourself-even the parts the world taught you to bury? Atmospheric and emotionally charged, The Ordinary Bruja by Johanny Ortega blends generational trauma, identity reclamation, and queer love with a creeping sense of dread.

Title: The Ordinary Bruja: Marisol’s Story
Book Series: Las Cerradoras
Author: Johanny Ortega
Genre: Adult, Horror, Magical Realism, Psychological
Release Date: November 1st, 2025

About The Book:

The Ordinary Bruja is a haunting and heartfelt coming-of-age novel wrapped in Dominican magical realism and psychological horror.

Marisol Espinal doesn’t believe she’s special. Not when she’s back in her small Ohio hometown, working as a barista, haunted by grief and the girls who once made her life hell. But when mirrors flicker with strange words, cigar smoke curls where no one is smoking, and voices whisper from Hallowthorn Hill, she realizes something darker has always been watching.

The Espinal family magic was buried generations ago-forced into silence by Salvador, the ancestor who bound their power for himself. Now his ghost feeds on fear and doubt, and Marisol is his next target. To survive, she must reclaim her heritage, unearth the truth hidden in her mother’s journal, and face the hill that has been waiting for her all along.

Atmospheric and emotionally charged, The Ordinary Bruja blends generational trauma, identity reclamation, and queer love with a creeping sense of dread. Perfect for fans of The Inheritance of Orquídea Divina and Mexican Gothic, this novel asks: What does it cost to embrace every part of yourself-even the parts the world taught you to bury?

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Excerpt:

Marisol sat on the couch, fingers pressed to her temple as if she could hold back the static throbbing behind her eyes. The echo of El Apagón, the truth about Altagracia, the weight of her parents on the hill. All of it churned in her head. She had invited Kia over,

but at first, she wasn’t sure she could look her in the eye without splintering. But when the doorbell rang, Marisol pushed herself up, grateful for the distraction, thankful for anything that might quiet the war inside her mind.

“Delivery!” Kia said, running past Marisol in a blur. The scent of crispy egg rolls and fried rice—enough to make her stomach growl before her mind caught up—drifted around her. The greasy perfume of sesame oil wrapped around Marisol like a hug and a slap at once. It was warm, chaotic, and impossible to ignore. It was comfort food, and for someone who hadn’t felt comfort in days, this was so necessary.

“Did someone order emotional support with a side of socially demonized MSG?” Kia called out as she arrayed the cartons on the table. And just like that, Marisol stopped debating and followed Kia to the kitchen.

Marisol sat in front of the orange chicken. If Kia only knew just how true her joke was. She needed all the support she could get. She inhaled deeply.

“This never gets old.” Marisol popped a piece of orange candied chicken in her mouth before Kia set a plate in front of her.

“So…what happened yesterday? You talking to Elvira again?” Kia asked, her voice casual, but Marisol could hear the tension beneath it.

Marisol wanted to tell her. Wanted to spill every terrifying detail, the voices, Salvador, what she had found out. It would all be so easy if she just told her. But it wouldn’t be easy on Kia. Their fingers touched as both tried to go for the lo mein.

“Sorry,” said Kia. “Go.”

“No, you go,” Marisol replied.

“Jeez, you go. You look like you haven’t eaten in days.”

“You bought it,” Marisol replied.

“But I’m at your house,” Kia said.

“So,” Marisol replied.

Kia huffed. “Fine.”

Marisol exhaled, forcing a small, weary smile. “Yes. It was nice talking to someone who knew Mami so well. I think I just needed a break. I couldn’t talk to her so soon.”

“Because she reminded you of your mom?” Kia asked.

Marisol nodded. She didn’t want to tell her about the grudge she felt. The one that still lingered, even though she trusts Elvira and knows she wouldn’t have done anything on purpose to harm her mother. Still, an illogical part of her couldn’t let go of the fact that Doña Elvira survived while her mother didn’t. But speaking about it with Kia would mean she would have to explain through magical reasoning, and Kia needed to stay, not believing in any of it.

Marisol swallowed hard, remembering Papi on the hill. His face twisted in pain, slowly unraveling her. Her mother as well. But she will hold on to that, too.

It was better this way.

About The Author:

Johanny Ortega is a Dominican American author who writes across genres—blending psychological horror, literary fiction, magical realism, and thrillers that punch you right in the gut. Whether writing about haunted hills, generational trauma, or the quiet unraveling of everyday life, her stories center marginalized voices, morally complex women, and the messy truth about survival.

She is the founder of Have a Cup of Johanny, a creative platform where she blogs, podcasts, and advocates for inclusive storytelling. Her award-winning middle-grade and adult fiction has resonated with readers who crave depth, grit, and emotional honesty.

When she’s not writing, she’s raising kids in a blended military family, reading books that wreck her soul in the best way, and saying what others are afraid to.

Connect With Johanny: Website | Goodreads | Instagram | TikTok