Witchin' A Ride: Magic and Mayhem Universe

By Sharon Saracino

I woke up this morning expecting a hangover. What I got was an Eskimo—er, Ekimmu—allegedly dispatched by Baba Yaga to trash my apartment and summon me home. But, with no magic, little money, and a pathetic sense of direction, finding my own way back to Hemlock Hollow could be a bit of a challenge. Does that witch not know me at all? 

As if that wasn't enough, it turns out the stray cat with whom I've been cohabitating for the duration of my exile is, in fact, a wolf Shifter under a curse. A curse only I can break. Without magic. And exactly how is that supposed to work? Coincidentally, a Shifter is the reason I'd ended up banished to the mortal world in the first place. Sort of. Let's just say I think a girl is entitled to end a dry spell—no matter how many decades it lasts—on her own terms.

Stranded at a truck stop, things don't look promising. I can only hope the stray cat-wolf Shifter whose name is not Doyle is more resourceful than he looks. At least he can read a map. But, something about that Ekimmu smells fishy—actually, everything about her smells fishy. I can't imagine why the Yaga sent such an unusual messenger. Or why she appears to be following me.

An exiled witch, a hexed Shifter, and a vengeful spirit with breath as foul as her intentions…road trip, anyone?

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sharon Saracino
• Release date: Aug 27, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386789666

Sharon Saracino

Sharon Saracino, an award winning author of paranormal romance, resides in beautiful Northeastern Pennsylvania. She plans to win the lottery just as soon as she remembers to buy a ticket, fantasizes about moving to Italy, brews limoncello, and believes there's always magic to be found if you take the time to look for it!

Book preview

~Dedication~

Hugs and smooches to the amazing Robyn Peterman whose endless talent is exceeded only by her humor, generosity, and ginormous heart! Thank you for inviting me to play in your fabulous and zany world! You rock!

Foreward

Blast Off with us into the Magic and Mayhem Universe!

I’m Robyn Peterman, the creator of the Magic and Mayhem Series and I’d like to invite you to my Magic and Mayhem Universe.

What is the Magic and Mayhem Universe, you may ask?

Well, let me explain...

It’s basically authorized fan fiction written by some amazing authors that I stalked and blackmailed! KIDDING! I was lucky and blessed to have some brilliant authors say yes! They have written brand new stories using my world and some of my characters. And let me tell you...the results are hilarious!

So here it is! Blast off with us into the hilarious Magic and Mayhem Universe. Side splitting books by fantabulous authors! Check out each and every one. You will laugh your way to a magical HEA!

For all the stories, go to https://magicandmayhemuniverse.com/. Grab your copy today!

Chapter One

An exiled witch without magic, the former first lady of the Philippines, and a gaggle of giggling girls walk into a bar.

For the love of peanut butter and bananas, give it a rest, Ella. Tina, my friend from the small garden center where we both worked, regarded me across my kitchen table, and rolled her bright blue eyes. You are not a witch, and I do not own as many shoes as Imelda Marcos. A girl can only aspire.

She got it half right. Tina may have been a few sling-backs shy of Mrs. Marcos, but despite the fact I found my formerly fine ass currently planted smack dab in the middle of mortal country without a spark of magic to call my own, I was indeed a witch.

In exile.

A passel of semi-inebriated women and an unidentified denizen of the afterlife walk out, I continued. I eyeballed the mostly transparent, utterly malodorous, and completely unwelcome figure hovering in the corner of my kitchen. The clearly departed had been stuck to me like pasties to a showgirl’s boobs since the wee hours of this morning, and didn’t appear to be in any hurry to leave. Well, okay, maybe the denizen floated and the rest of us staggered. What do you think it means?

It means you should have passed on those last three shots of tequila. Tina plunked a glass of tomato juice garnished with a lemon wedge and a leafy stalk of celery in front of me. I assumed she made a grocery run before I crawled out of bed since fresh produce and my refrigerator rarely socialized. Drink that. You’ll feel better.

I feel fine. Truthfully, my stomach churned like the agitator of a heavy-duty washing machine. But, the onset of nausea and my bad case of cotton mouth had nothing to do with the previous evening’s alcohol consumption. It had everything to do with the aroma tickling my gag reflex, and the hairy eyeball fixed on me from across the room. Besides, so much nutrition concentrated in a small glass may kill me, so let’s go with the coffee. Ignore the big green ghost in the room if it makes you more comfortable, but I am currently the object of her rapt attention. I raised a brow in the direction of the vaporous entity. I’m not receiving guests today. Didn’t you get the memo?

The uninvited visitor offered no response.

Don’t be so quick to dismiss her. Maybe she covets your footwear, and you could make a couple of bucks. You could use the income to buy something more presentable, Tina suggested with a smirk. Since I knew she didn’t believe for a second there was anyone, or anything, aside from the two of us currently inhabiting my kitchen, I had to give her props for her ability to keep a straight face and play along. It’s not like you’re drowning in marketable skills.

Tina, the Shoe Slut, had a rabid obsession with stuffing my feet into a pair of sky-high stilettos. Sure, they’d look great with anything, and enhance the contours of my long legs. But, though I’d remained relatively injury free lately, being relegated to a mortal existence had given me a well-earned reputation for falling up stairs and being attacked by floors. Trust me, I’ve got the delinquent Emergency Room bills to prove it. So, despite the interesting opportunities for kink a couple of weeks in traction surrounded by hot orderlies brought to mind, further flipping the bird at the Fates by donning Hoo-ha Heels didn’t seem worth the risk.

I thrust my flannel clad leg out from beneath the table and inspected my faux suede and sheepskin knock-offs through narrowed eyes. They’d been a second-hand thrift store purchase, and had seen better days. Then last week, Tina’s pocket pooch, a little Yorkie named Benson, had mistaken one for a chew toy. This resulted in several holes, a couple of bare spots, and numerous fraying threads. In an effort to put a positive spin on the loss, I taped black pompoms to the toes, drew a couple of eyes near the ankle, and repurposed them as bunny slippers.

Ya think? I glanced over and wiggled my foot temptingly in the direction of my filmy new friend. She continued to stare at me silently, one might even say hostilely, not sparing so much as a glance at my sad, bedraggled bootie. Apparently my footwear did not impress her. Maybe she was annoyed I hadn’t offered her a cup of coffee? Well, she was going to have to make a little more of an effort to be sociable if she expected me to share my Columbian Dark Roast.

Sure. Tina slugged down the last mouthful of her coffee and pushed back her chair, hopping up to pour another cup. Who wouldn’t die to get their hands on wearable road-kill?

Well, clearly she’s mistaken me for someone else. I glared in my visitor’s direction. I tucked my insulted bunny wannabee under my chair and slid my mug across the table for a refill. And I have skills, I simply refrain from flaunting them. Mostly because, for the time being at least, I couldn’t.

Maybe she’s a troubled spirit with some unfinished business or something, Tina speculated. She frowned in the direction of my horrendous houseguest and offered me a fresh cup before parking her khaki Capri-clad butt back in her own chair.

Maybe, I squinted at Silent Sally. No maybe about it. She definitely had unfinished business. And I had a sinking feeling I knew the exact nature of said business. Me.

Isn’t there someone you can call? You know, like Ghostbusters?

Very funny, I muttered. The phone book didn’t list a Hotline for Smart-Mouth-Witches-Who-Open-Their-Trap-Before-Their-Brain-Kicks-In. Believe me, I looked. If they did, I’d have put those suckers on speed dial years ago. It’s not as though I don’t always mean what I say. I just don’t always mean to say it out loud. I sighed, pushed myself away from the table and rose to my DIY rabbit-wrapped tootsies. Are you planning to stick around for a while?

With her new boyfriend, whom I’d yet to meet and approve of, otherwise occupied for the weekend, Tina found herself at loose ends. Hence the reason she’d deigned to slum it and crash at my place last night. I hoped she had something pressing on her agenda for today. Otherwise, the outcome was inevitable. My meagre cash stash, maxed out credit card, and sunny disposition, could not survive one of her excursions into retail hell.

Hair appointment at eleven, manicure at two, and somewhere in between I’m heading over to the mall. Tina ticked off each task on her long, professionally pampered fingers. Care to join me?

About as much as I care to eat glass and die, but thanks ever so much for asking. I slugged back the rest of the coffee in my cup. Besides, I have a spiritual crisis to attend to. Apparently.

Yeah, well good luck with that, Tina offered magnanimously. She shot a threatening look toward the corner where my uninvited guest lingered. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she

Reviews for Witchin' A Ride

[Tami Hughes · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I absolutely loved this book in this series. This was so funny it had me laughing so hard at times I had to stop reading. I was laughing so hard I mearly cried. Fabulous author. I will definitely be checking out all her books.