The Witched Away Bride: Magic and Mayhem Universe: The Witch Singer, #3

By Heather Long

My story began when a vampire I dubbed Mr. Nasty-Face sent me on a crazy, impossible task to fix his mis-Turnment of a certain succubus. Easy, right? Yeah, then I ran into the skunk who would change my life (and spray me, but let's forget that memory). Once I got to Assjacket, well, let's just say I ended up with the teenager who wasn't—a kind of happily-while-you're-here scenario. Now my teen is a grown woman with a Highlander for a lover, and I'm left to deal with Gigi. She wants me to find her a happily-for-real-ever-after and I've still got to solve my problems.

So to be clear, all I have to do is undo the unbreakable, pair the unpairable, and keep my man happy. One out of three isn't bad. I'm a witch singer, not a dang miracle worker.

Just sing at a couple of weddings, the Baba Yaga said, it'll be fun, she said, it'll solve all your problems…except no weddings are possible with the witched away brides

• Language: English
• Publisher: Heather Long
• Release date: Aug 27, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386870302

Heather Long

National bestselling author, Heather Long, likes long walks in the park, science fiction, superheroes, Marines, and men who aren’t douche bags. Her books are filled with heroes and heroines tangled in romance as hot as Texas summertime. From paranormal historical westerns to contemporary military romance, Heather might switch genres, but one thing is true in all of her stories—her characters drive the books. When she’s not wrangling her menagerie of animals, she devotes her time to family and friends she considers family. She believes if you like your heroes so real you could lick the grit off their chest, and your heroines so likable, you’re sure you’ve been friends with women just like them, you’ll enjoy her worlds as much as she does.

Book preview

Chapter One

Once upon a time in Assjacket…

Stop laughing. I’m being serious here. Fairytales start somewhere, and while my story wouldn’t qualify for the Mouse House, it definitely falls more in line with the Brothers Grimm. You see, my fairy godmonster dubbed me Bridget the Witch Singer while I was in the cradle. She used to tell me I brought my toys to life and stripped the paint from the walls, depending on my mood.

Silent timeouts had totally been a thing. That cone of silence spell? It still worked like a charm. Helped out when my friend Rika was my teenage pain in the ass. I kind of missed having her around as a kid, even if she frustrated me. That said, Rika as a friend proved to be enormously useful and fun, too.

Studying my appearance in the mirror, I evaluated my frock. For those of you that are wondering, yes, I know most people call it a dress. But I like the word frock, so I’m going with it. It was red and lacy with a frothy kind of look. Most women wouldn’t wear red to a wedding, but I wasn’t most women, and Martin loved me in this color.

Martin. I sighed. My favorite skunk. He wasn’t really a skunk. He’d been cursed. And I’d freed him from the curse. Another sigh wove through me. It was really rather romantic. He was brilliant, sweet, a little nerdy, and undeniably in love with me. The feeling was mutual. Still, we had a lot to learn about each other. Staying in Assjacket hadn’t been remotely boring, but as much as I wanted to linger…I needed to finish the task for Mr. Nasty-Face so I could remain free.

The last thing we needed was a horde of pissed off vampires coming after me. I’d had their claws on my throat for years, and I’d been their songbird in a gilded cage.

Not happening again. Never. Ever.

So I’d sing at some weddings, power those happily ever afters for all I was worth, get the magic answer to the question, then faster than Baba Yaga’s your bitch, I fix the twisted saga of the succubus Turn, and I’m free. Free to be with Martin forever and always, over ice cream sundaes and arguments about who should win The Singer (me of course) and…

An explosion rocked the side of the building. Really? Now? I wanted to enjoy the dazzle of my daydream of the perfect future. It was how I would psych up the power to sing the perfect damn ballad.

Another boom.

Dammit! Spinning away from the mirror, I stalked over to the door and jerked it open. Shut up! Can’t you tell I’m…

Boom!

The explosion damn near deafened me and it sent dust sprinkling down from the ceiling. I hummed a tune to create an umbrella. Disaster or not, nothing was going to spoil this hot as hell outfit before Martin got to appreciate me in it.

A roar split the morning air.

A very angry, pretty damn unpleasant roar.

Where is she?

Where was who? Darting outside before the cottage came down on my head, I glanced at the bedecked rose arbor where today’s wedding was supposed to take place. The groom was a wreck…literally.

I’d seen him five minutes earlier, and he’d been a dashing, beautiful hunk of man candy. Now he looked like a Build-A-Monster on crack. All seven feet of hairy beast, roaring.

Where is she?

The cry and hue climbed and another boom split the sunny morning. Twisting, I looked to the other cottage. The little wedding grotto had a few buildings for dressing, for partying, and for pre and post-wedding nookie.

The bride’s building was kind of gone.

Oh, that couldn’t be good.

Where is she? I joined in the shouting, and I tried not to curse. I felt sorry for the poor roaring bastard, but dammit, I needed to sing that happily ever after. Not possible with a bride!

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Kirk

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Hating kneeling almost as much as he hated the person he knelt in front of, Kirk kept his gaze on the dirt. The click of nails vibrated through him. The