Out of the Broom Closet (Book 3 Love Spells Gone Wrong Series)

By Ashlyn Chase

Michele Erikson, a part fey witch, would never harm others with spells, even if it’s the only way to save herself from a crazed stalker wielding black magic, who’s chased her from Portsmouth, NH to Daytona Beach FL.
But Michele doesn’t know that her new friend Vic Matthews has been hired by her stepfather Alex to protect her. The Ex-NFL player turned bodyguard doesn’t believe in hocus pocus until late in the game, when he witnesses first-hand what Michele can do.
As Michele’s loving charm weaves its way around Vic’s heart, he’ll do whatever it takes to save her, even if it means convincing her to step out of the broom closet and come out fighting!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lachesis Publishing Inc
• Release date: Feb 29, 2016
• ISBN: 9781927555767

Ashlyn Chase

Ashlyn Chase describes herself as an Almond Joy bar.  A little nutty, a little flaky, but basically sweet, wanting only to give her readers some great entertainment.  She holds a degree in behavioral sciences, worked as a psychiatric RN for 15 years and spent a few more years working for the American Red Cross. Most authors, whether they know it or not, have a theme—something that unifies their whole booklist. Ashlyn’s identified theme has to do with characters who reinvent themselves. After all, she has reinvented herself many times. Now she is a multi-published, best-selling, award-winning author of humorous paranormal and contemporary romances, represented by the Seymour Agency. She lives in beautiful New Hampshire with her true-life superhero husband who looks like Hugh Jackman if you squint. She and Mr. Amazing have adopted two beautiful shelter cats. Where there’s fire, there’s Ash Sign up for my newsletter right from my home page: www.ashlynchase.com While you’re there check out my news and reviews. Join my facebook fan page: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorAshlynChase Chat with me: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ashlynsnewbestfriends/ Follow me on Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/ashlyn-chase …and I tweet as GoddessAsh. https://twitter.com/#!/GoddessAsh Instagram https://www.instagram.com/ashlynlaughin/  Pinterest  https://www.pinterest.com/ashlynchase/  

Book preview

Chapter 1

Michele Erikson needed a damn good spell and fast. Business was down to a crawl and she was losing her dream. Waiting in line at her local bank to make her shop’s meager deposit, she sighed, realizing how carefully she’d need to word it. The Goddess could be notoriously literal and prosperity spells were easily confused with fertility spells. No, that wouldn’t be good at all.

As her gaze wandered around the bank she thought of the kind of spell she could craft. Her eyes landed at the bank’s drive-up window. A silver van approached, clearly revealing the driver. Suddenly her mouth went dry. It couldn’t be!

Ducking below the counter just before the women in front of her left, she debated her next move. Get out of line and hide behind the rubber tree plant until he drove away? That wouldn’t look weird, would it? She mentally rolled her eyes at herself.

Before she could do anything, the teller leaned forward and tried to make eye contact.

Miss? Are you all right?

Now what? Michele disguised her voice, using a higher pitch. She tossed the zippered bag over the counter and replied, I’m fine. I’d just like to make a deposit. She sounded like a child. Well, good. Maybe if the freak in the van looked over, he’d think she was a child—not the woman he’d been stalking for months.

The teller hesitated. Michele was afraid she might come around the counter to see what her problem was. I’m in kind of a hurry, she squeaked.

 Ooookay.

The sound of coins and cash indicated the teller was counting, therefore processing, her deposit. Whew. And for once she was grateful there wasn’t much to count. Her fight or flight instinct kicked in big time and she had to flee. She removed her distinctive silver rings, which might identify her to anyone seeing her hands. Meanwhile, she listened intently to the conversation between the driver and the teller at the window. He didn’t say much, but she recognized his voice.

It was Donovan Grant.

If only she could disappear. Why didn’t I try the invisibility spell? 

The cashier finally finished the deposit and set the bag and deposit slip on top of the counter. Michele snatched the corner of the bag and pulled it down without showing her hand. She caught the deposit slip as it fluttered toward the floor.

Without offering her usual ‘thank you,’ she slinked off to that rubber tree plant where she could see the cars driving by, and hoped the drivers couldn’t see her. As she waited for the van to pull away, the security guard approached.

She held up one palm as if to say, Stop right there. To her relief, he did. She peered through the glass doors again and saw the van drive off. Letting out a huge sigh of relief, she sagged against the wall. 

Ma’am? Do you need a doctor?

No thanks. I need a miracle.

*    *    *    *    *

Michele burst through the back door of her shop The Enchanted Broom, black broom skirt and long blonde hair flapping. She tore past the shelves of herb jars and grimoires and shouted to her best friend and business partner behind the counter.

Savern, lock the door, turn out the lights, quick!

What the . . .

Just do it.

Savern, who looked like a black elf in a hunter green maternity tunic and matching stretch shorts, hopped down from her stool and jogged around the counter. Michele closeted herself in the windowless room they used as an office, storeroom, and classroom. Shaking, she hid behind the shoji screens, which separated the forward public section from the office and storage areas in back. Maybe I could empty a box and crawl inside.

Michele braced herself against the wall and waited anxiously until the front door clicked and the corridor darkened. Letting out a long sigh, she slid to the floor.

Moments later, Savern appeared. With her ebony skin, she was barely visible in the unlit room. Would you mind telling me why we’re closing in the middle of the day?

Michele couldn’t control the trembling in her body. Because I just saw Donovan Grant, that’s why.

Donovan who?

The guy who was stalking me back in New Hampshire.

Lord and Lady! I knew you moved here because your old boyfriend gave you the creeps, but I didn’t know he was stalking you. Savern hastened to Michele’s side, helped her to the beige canvas futon, then sank down next to her. Is this the guy who practices black magic?

Yeah. Michele frowned and nervously picked at her skirt. I didn’t tell you much about it, because I didn’t want to give energy to the universe and attract the asshat through negative thoughts. I can’t stand being under his control.

So, what do you think he’s doing in Daytona Beach?

I don’t know, but I doubt he’s interested in NASCAR racing.

Savern put an arm around Michele and spoke softly. Where did you see him?

I was inside the bank. I could see him through the drive-up window. The psycho tattooed freak was sitting there in his silver van.

There’s no doubt in your mind it was him?

Absolutely none. It was Donovan Grant. Tears blurred her vision and she tried to will them away.

Savern inhaled deeply. What do we do?

This is my problem. I need to get out of town. There’s no reason you can’t keep the shop. It belongs to you and Alex as far as the bank is concerned.

You can’t keep running like this, Savern argued. This shop was your dream too, remember?

Michele’s composure broke. She slumped over and held her head in her hands. Why me? Why now?

Savern pulled her into a hug and patted her back. It’ll be all right. We’ll deal with this. But, right now I need to deal with the candles I have lit out front so I don’t burn our dream to the ground. Will you be okay for a minute?

Of course. She sniffed. Don’t tell me you’re doing another love spell?

What makes you think it’s a love spell?

Michele leaned back and sighed. Because I smell rose anointing oil and because you’re always doing love spells.

Savern flashed a bright smile that lit up her face and made her slightly pointed ears rise enough to peek through her short, straightened hair. So? I want help to raise my baby. A husband is cheaper than a nanny. Don’t judge. I’ll be back with the candles in a minute.

Be careful what you wish for, Michele called after her. Then she let her head fall backward and rest on the futon. An ugly vision of Donovan crowded her mind and sent a shiver spiraling through her. Staring at the painted stars on the ceiling, she whispered, Dear Goddess, there must be a way to escape him. Help me.

Savern returned several minutes later. Michele didn’t even raise her head as if she had become a deflated balloon.

Savern placed a tray with three lit pink tapers on the table. A warm glow flickered about the shadowy room. I called Alex, she said.

You what? Michele snapped to attention.

Savern, with hands on her hips, looked prepared for battle. For the love of . . . I thought you moved down here to be closer to your stepdad, as well as me. Now buck up. We’re not in high school anymore.

Yeah, but you know how protective Alex is. Who knows what he’ll do if he finds Donovan?

Savern folded her arms and leaned against the wall. "Maybe you need protection. Forgive me for trying to help."

I’m sorry. Michele collapsed into her previous posture and sighed. I’m not upset with you. I’m furious, but you’re not the reason.

I figured that. I also thought the police should be notified, so I called them too.

You did? What did you do that for? Michele shook like a simmering volcano about to erupt in angry tears. You know they won’t help until he tries to kill me—again!

Look, girl. You’ve gotta talk to them. The more reports they have on file, the more serious it will be taken by the judge when you go for a restraining order.

That’s a load of crap. Michele rose, reached up to a high hook on the wall and grabbed a long spool of cord. They can’t restrain magic.

Savern shook her head. You’ve got to get a restraining order. Magic is good, but sometimes you have to use common sense too.

Look, you said you wanted to help. Let’s start by knotting every protection spell we know of into this cord. Maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll get to strangle him with it.

Savern shot her a disapproving look.

I know. I know. But I can’t help being angry.

Savern nodded. I’ll get the book.

Michele pulled the cord arm’s length to her shoulder nine times to measure the proper length while Savern retrieved the giant leather-bound tome they kept hidden beneath the desk.

Please don’t panic, hon. You’re not alone, Savern said.

I should be. Everyone I love is in danger.

*    *    *    *    *

Vic Matthews lunged for the ringing phone in his home office. One of his most trusted employees said he’d call if he changed his mind about quitting the bodyguard business. Vic couldn’t believe that the six-foot-four, two-hundred-seventy-pound former NFL linebacker refused to accept another bodyguard assignment because his girlfriend told him not to.

Vic’s former NFL career had never hinged on anyone, even when he was married. He admitted that could be one reason he was now divorced.

Giving his fellow ex-football jocks a meaningful job filled him with satisfaction and pride. Often the pro ball players had blown much of their money on women with expensive taste, four-carat diamond studs and opulent homes. They usually worked for Vic in a heartbeat. Now he’d have to begin recruiting again.

Hello, he barked into the phone.

Uh . . . is this the Guaranteed Guards agency?

Vic settled into his chair and wished he had checked caller ID. Yes. Vic Matthews here. How can I help you?

My name is Alex Blake. I may be in need of your services for my stepdaughter. I understand that you specialize in providing bodyguards?

That’s right. What’s her situation?

Stalker. An ex-boyfriend from New England. She’s been running from him for six months now. Frankly, I’m sick of being scared to death and I’m sure she is too.

Vic leaned back in his chair. What makes you think he’s still a threat?

Michele moved here to get away from him. She just established a small business with a friend of hers. We thought she was finally rid of him, and her luck was just beginning to turn around, but then she spotted him yesterday when she was at the bank.

Vic sat up, prepared to take notes. Tell me more about the stalker.

Before I do that, I’d like to know more about your company.

Sure. Most of my guys are former professional athletes. Mostly ex-football players. They make exceptional bodyguards. They’re tough, their size is intimidating, and their peripheral vision and reflexes can’t be matched. I’m employing more and more ex-military too. People with special forces training.

Sounds perfect. How soon can you tackle this problem?

Vic ignored the obvious pun. He’d heard it before. Tell me more about the boyfriend.

Ex-boyfriend. Donovan Grant. We can’t figure out how he found her. She drove down here in a borrowed car and didn’t use any of her credit cards. She lives with her friend, so she didn’t need to fill out a lease or give anyone as references. We thought we took care of everything.

Did she tell anyone where she was going?

Only one person and she swears that individual would never give him that information.

Well, not on purpose. Vic twirled his pencil. Can you tell me more about Grant? Like what he’s done and why she’s still afraid of him?

Oh, yeah. I was going to get to that, but it’s a little strange. I hope you have an open mind.

There aren’t many things that surprise me anymore, Mr. Blake.

Good. Because Grant’s a black witch or magician or something—a sorcerer who uses black magic.

Vic raised his eyebrows and sat forward. Okay, Mr. Blake, you surprised me.

Call me Alex. I thought this might be one of your more unusual cases.

Yeah, I’d say so. I should also tell you that I don’t believe in hocus pocus.

Neither did I until this guy managed to get to her no matter where she went or what she did.

Are you sure he’s using black magic to find her? Maybe he’s just a persistent pain in the ass with good tracking skills. Maybe he figured she’d go to you?

I doubt that. We didn’t get along. We’re doing better now, because I’m trying to mind my own business.

But you think she needs help?

She not only needs it, she deserves it. Michele’s a special woman. She’s Wiccan. She takes the ethical part of her religion very seriously. That’s part of the problem. She refuses to use magic to hurt anyone, including him. But he went over to the dark side, so to speak, so he doesn’t care who he hurts.

What are you saying? She’s a good witch and he’s an evil sorcerer?

That’s about right.

Vic smiled, and as unprofessional as it was, he just had to make a wisecrack. Can’t she turn him into a toad or a new BMW?

Thankfully, Alex laughed. I guess she’s already been fighting fire with fire. She thinks magic is the only reason she’s still alive.

Well, I’d better know more about this fire they’re playing with.

I’m afraid I don’t know much about that. You should really talk to Michele. But, here’s the rub. I don’t want her to know I’ve hired your agency. She’s proud and stubborn, just like her mother was. Don’t get me wrong, she’s sweet as sugar, but she wants to stand on her own two feet. No interference. Besides, she thinks I don’t understand what Donovan can do and she’s right. She believes anyone near her is in imminent danger.

Vic frowned. Well, how’s my guy supposed to do his job?

I don’t know. Shadow her?

We’d need to be closer than that if he makes a grab for her.

Pretend to be interested in her, then. She’s a pretty girl.

. . . and make her think she has two stalkers?

Look, you’ve gotta help her! I’ll pay extra.

We don’t come cheap as it is.

Doesn’t matter. She’s special. If you could meet her in person, you’d see what I mean. I’m e-mailing you her picture as we speak.

It really doesn’t matter what she looks like. We have to evaluate each assignment on a case by case basis—objectively.

Yet, the lure of extra money was something Vic could never turn down. He made a very good living but his ex-wife’s alimony certainly cut into his paycheck. Not to mention, he was still paying for her past extravagances on maxed-out credit cards. Why she needed a full-length fur coat in friggin’ Florida, he had no idea.

Vic might be stuck taking the assignment himself, even if it meant protecting Alex Blake’s nutbag stepdaughter.

Vic’s computer showed that he had mail, subject: Michele Erikson. Curiosity niggled at him so he opened the attachment. Holy shit. She wasn’t just pretty. She was a knockout. Her body was perfection. Long, lithe and curvy. Her hair mimicked her body. Long blonde waves fell gracefully over her shoulders, and curved around her generous breasts. Silver jewelry adorned her delicate fingers, wrist and neck. She looked relaxed, as if completely comfortable with herself. Her eyes were cat-like and something about the way they gazed out of the monitor, bridging the distance as if she were able to see him, made his mouth go dry. Hopefully, she couldn’t read his filthy mind.

By the way, were you a football player too? Alex asked.

Yeah. He cleared his throat. Back-up quarterback for the Cowboys and Dolphins.

I love the game. That and golf, Alex said.

I like people who understand sports. It’s a big part of how I look at life. It taught me discipline, focus, and I believe success is the result of hard work. I always give one hundred and ten percent.

Good. I’ll give you one hundred and ten percent of your usual fee if you can keep her out of this madman’s clutches and do it without her knowledge.

Vic stared at Michele’s image. An uncharacteristic macho attitude surfaced. He imagined this stunning beauty clutching his shirt while he played the part of her white knight. Then he shook his head at his foolish self. Let’s see if we can think of a way to make this work.

*    *    *    *    *

Michele, we’ve got the most powerful protection spell we know in place, so we’re re-opening as soon as I finish reading your cards, right?

Depending on what they say . . .

Savern rolled her eyes and handed Michele the tarot deck to shuffle.

A dozen candles bathed the room in light, which usually offered Michele a comfortable ambiance, but today she doubted that anything could comfort her. After cutting the deck, she selected ten cards and pushed them across the table to Savern.

So, you want the usual Celtic Cross reading?

Please.

As Savern arranged the cards, Michele rested her chin in her cupped hand and leaned forward with concentration. Her mood darkened with each overturned card.

Savern sat back and pointed to the cards in the center. The Chariot in the reversed position, crossed by the Hanged Man.

Damn! I knew it. Michele shot to her feet. He’s come to kill me!

Hold on, girl. I’m reading the damn cards. Now, sit.

Michele blew out a deep breath and flopped back onto the chair.

Savern continued. You need to trust the cards and whoever reads them. Otherwise, your fear will kick in, and you’ll misinterpret the message. In other words, you’ll be on the run again all alone and possibly for no reason.

Yeah, I know. Michele raked her hands through her hair and tried to calm down. So what do you see?

I read the hanging man as a stop to the chariot. This is about you. In other words, stop running away!

That means I have to fight him, and you know I can’t do that. The Rede says . . .

I know what the Rede says, girl. ‘If it harm none, do what ye will.’ How is stopping this maniac harmful?

For one thing, we both have boomerang spells in place. I can’t bind him, or put a curse on him. Whatever I do to him, I do to myself!

You wouldn’t hex him, anyway, Savern said. I know you.

A loud rap on the front door made both young women jump a foot in their seats.

Don’t answer it, Michele whispered.

Of course I’m going to answer it. Savern stood, and jammed her hands on her hips. Get a hold of yourself, girl. You’re making me crazy.

If you see a tall, skinny guy with long medium brown hair, pierced ear, and a snake tattoo on his neck, don’t open the door.

Fine. Savern peered down the corridor to the front door. She whistled, raised her eyebrows, and turned to Michele.

Two hot guys are at the door, and one of them is Alex.

With a chuckle, Savern disappeared. A few moments later Michele could hear the bell jingle as the door opened. Then she heard Alex’s voice and what sounded like introductions. If Alex and a cop were out there, it would be reasonable to leave her protective cavern.

Michele inched down the hall. When she determined that Donovan wasn’t around the corner, she emerged into the main room, and the two men turned toward her. Alex smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. The other man straightened to his full height providing her with a clear view of his drop-dead gorgeous face and body.

Hot guys? Well, one of them sure was. The other one was her stepdad. Ewww.

Hi, honey. Alex came up beside her, gave her a kiss on the cheek and a side-hug.

Michele touched his silver temples in a gentle gesture. Am I giving you a few more gray hairs, Alex?

He smiled and stepped away. He gestured to the tall, dark-haired, well-muscled guy. Thirty-something, he possessed a ruggedly handsome face. He wore a crisp white shirt, open at the collar, and pressed khaki trousers. His thick black eyelashes set off his light hazel eyes. If she opened her mouth, she’d drool. The word delicious popped into her mind.

Vic, this is Michele, my stepdaughter.

Nice to meet you, Michele.

His voice was deep and resonated within her. His vibes were good, but it was even more than that. Had they met before?

His hand enclosed hers. Electricity quivered in her arm and her hand tingled. She noticed his white teeth against his deep golden tan, and his firm, warm, self-confident grasp. She also noticed that neither of them let go too soon.

Hi, Michele said. Are you a detective?

No, just a friend of Alex’s. He told me about you and your shop. I thought I’d take a look. Vic glanced around and tucked his hands in his pockets. "Did you decorate it