Hexes & Oh's (Low Country Witches Book 1): Low Country Witches, #1

By Koko Brown and Taige Crenshaw

Rosalind Fletcher is a witch, but that's not her only secret. Her one-of-a-kind wedding cakes are infused with a loving spell that produces long-lasting marriages where the men never stray, the women don't nag, and none of the blissful couples end up in divorce court. 

 

What happens when a bewitched cake falls into the hands of the wrong person? Like her worst enemy Ace Benedict, who accidentally eats a sample meant for his clients? Well...all hormones break loose!

 

Surrendering to Ace's lustful appetites proves far easier than finding an antidote, for the conflicted low country witch with a sweet tooth for the blond tight end. 

Can Rosalind alter the bewitching powers of a hundred-year old spell before things get out of hand? Will she let her conscience guide her to a remedy or will her heart lock them both in a sham? 

 

Reader Warning: Hexes and Oh's was previously published in 2009 under the title, Forever, I Do.  Although the basic plot has not changed, the story has been expanded by eight thousands words.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Koko Brown
• Release date: Apr 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386671121

Book preview

Chapter One

The fine hairs on the back of Rosalind’s neck stood up at the lyrical tinkling of the shop’s door bells. Without looking up, she knew who’d entered. She’d anticipated Ace Benedict’s arrival all week. He was the reason for their coming in an hour early to prepare for this morning’s cake tasting, and for the sudden shaking of her hands.

Her assistant, Lucille, stretched up on her tiptoes to look through the glass partition that allowed them to see the showroom. Rosalind shrugged off a twinge of jealousy at the other woman’s wolf whistle.

Lord have mercy, Ace Benedict is fine! I’m not one for blonds, but for that man...I’ll make an exception.

When she moved around the stainless steel prepping table, Rosalind stopped her with a hand on her arm.

I’ll see to Benedict, Lucille. I need you to brew the coffee for the Loving Room.

Lucille’s expression wilted. Dang it, Roz, you’re always cock blocking.

Rosalind ignored her assistant’s complaint, instead busying herself with the strings of her apron.

If I didn’t know any better, Lucille continued. I’d say you wanted Ace Benedict for yourself. Rosalind’s fingers stilled on the cotton ties. But considering you’re too wrapped up in this business to pay a man any mind, I’m not worried about you trying to steal mine.

"So Ace is your man?" Rosalind’s lips quirked at the corners.

Lucille smoothed her plump hands over her generous hips and down her thighs. Yep. Didn’t you know Ace Benedict and I have a thing going on?

Rosalind chuckled at her assistant’s antics. No, you didn’t tell me. And I’m pretty sure you didn’t tell Orlando, either, because you and said man are still alive and not lying six feet under.

Saints alive! Orlando has always been a tad too possessive. You know why, don’t you? Rosalind braced herself. Her assistant’s one-liners were legendary. I have diamonds between my thighs.

With a flick of her long bamboo braids, Lucille returned to her workstation and the baby pink, paste flowers she’d made for a quincearñera. They needed to be placed in the fridge to harden up before application to a four-layer cake. 

And here I thought it was the wedding cake I gave you. Chuckling, Rosalind balled up her apron and threw it at the other woman. Even though she tipped the scales at a little over two hundred pounds, Lucille was pretty nimble, easily catching the garment in midair.

Could be that too. Everyone knows Forever, I Do’s wedding cakes are mighty lucky. Rosalind stiffened, but the other woman didn’t seem to notice, because she kept yapping. In all the years I’ve been working here, I haven’t seen one divorce among any of your customers.

And you won’t, if I have anything to do with it. My great-grandmama Trudy would roll over in her grave if she found out I’d botched up the Fletcher streak—

Ding...ding...ding...ding.

Rosalind pressed her lips together at the impatient pounding on the service bell.

Don’t blow your top just yet, Roz. Give him at least fifteen minutes of your time before you do.

I can only promise ten. Rosalind ignored Lucille’s efforts to draw her into a deep breathing exercise and abandoned the kitchen for the showroom.

Miss Rosalind Fletcher. I almost feared you’d forgotten our appointment, Ace drawled in his honey-dipped Southern accent.  

Rosalind stopped short. Like a match to a Roman candle, her body always reacted to him. Her temperature seemed to skyrocket and she felt like someone had knocked the wind out of her.

Built to last, the retired NFL tight end stood a couple of inches over six feet. Good thing, since his muscular frame would’ve looked too bulky on a shorter man. Instead, it suited him and put him on top of all the draft boards when he’d declared for the NFL fifteen years ago. In his team jersey and those skin-tight pants, he looked like a freakin’ Greek god. Not that she’d watched all his game but she’d seen enough of them to know he’d earned his spot on every pro bowl team he’d been selected and the title of offensive MVP when his team, the San Antonio Steers, won the Super Bowl.

A few years removed from the gridiron due to a torn ACL, and now a managing partner in his mother’s wedding planning business, Ace still looked at the top of his game. Dressed in a pair of black dress slacks and a white button-down, his summer tan gleamed golden against the stark whiteness of his tailored shirt. He must have spent the weekend on Slow as Molasses, his forty-two foot catamaran and what the locals dubbed a pussy magnet.

Rosalind frowned. The image of a svelte redhead sprawled on the deck of his boat with him bucking away between her legs put a sour taste in her mouth. Needing an outlet for her suddenly foul mood, she countered with a little more bite than she’d intended.

In all of the years you’ve known me, Benedict, have I ever forgotten any of our appointments?

Ace’s green eyes grew thoughtful, then crinkled at the corners as he gave her a magnanimous grin. Rosalind smoothed a hand over her stomach to calm a sudden onslaught of butterflies. Too bad it didn’t stop the rush of blood to her fun box when he rested his elbows on the glass bakery display. His forearms were muscular and a testament to the fact he was still in top physical shape. 

I don’t think there’s ever been a time when you weren’t the consummate professional. What a waste.

Rosalind’s clit twitched as his eyes slid over her like the last piece of red velvet cake at a family reunion. Remembering he had more notches on his catamaran’s mast than bird droppings, she quickly pulled it together. But she found she couldn’t resist asking him the reason for his last statement. What do you mean by waste, Benedict?

Ace shrugged one of those linebacker shoulders of his, and his lips parted, but the kitchen door burst open, interrupting the moment.

Roz! I need to scuttle up to the school. The principal suspended Boo for skipping algebra again. The coffee’s brewing, and everything’s set up in the Loving Room for the Morgan and Sullivan wedding par―

Lucille paused midsentence to look over Rosalind’s shoulder at Ace. Her dark face split into a wide grin.

Mornin’, Ace. You’re looking mighty fine this morning. She emphasized each syllable by kissing the tips of her fingers.

Rosalind reminded herself that she had absolutely no interest in Ace Benedict which killed the urge to snatch each beautiful braid off her assistant’s head.

Thanks, gorgeous. Ace winked. Have I told you Orlando’s a lucky man?

Lucille wagged her finger at him. You just say the word and his luck will run out.

To bring the pair back to the present before she revisited this morning’s breakfast of scrambled eggs and hopping John, Rosalind interrupted their flirting. Will you be back this afternoon?

I hate to leave you in the lurch, but I highly doubt it. I need to be there when Orlando gets home. I don’t want to waste our Christmas savings fund on bail.

Rosalind ran through the day’s schedule in her head. We only have one tasting today, she mused aloud. And we don’t need to start on the Murchison anniversary cake until tomorrow. So, I’ll see you bright and early.

Lucille’s face lit up. Thanks, boss. I’ll be here with bells on. If I’m not, there’s only one place you’ll find me―in the emergency room at Regional.

Her assistant turned to leave then hesitated. Her gaze swung between them, a knowing glint sparkling in their black depths. You two act civil to one another, you hear?

As soon as the door closed behind her, it hit Rosalind like a ton of bricks. She and Ace Benedict were totally alone―at least until his clients showed up. Unable to meet his gaze lest she spontaneously combust like a soufflé revealed too soon, she turned her head to look at the clock next to the register.

Despite her evasiveness, it didn’t relieve the tension settling in the crook of her neck, or the goose bumps running down her bare arms as she felt his eyes on her. Resisting the urge to hightail it into the kitchen, she concentrated her efforts on anything but him. It turned out to be her great-grand momma’s waving cat clock.

It’s a quarter till eleven, Rosalind.

Channeling her embarrassment into indignation, Rosalind drew herself up. I’ll have you know I’m very capable of telling the time, Benedict, and I would appreciate it if you used my last name.

I’m sure you’re capable of doing lots of things extremely well. His voice dipped in a manner that called to mind rumpled sheets and smoked cigarettes. But you appeared to be having trouble. And the Southern gentleman that I am, I couldn’t resist helping a damsel in distress, especially when it seems like I’m the cause of it.

The thought of him knowing his effect on her caused heat to lick at her cheeks. Thank goodness her skin was as brown as the bark on a Southern magnolia, saving her from further humiliation. Still, she felt the need to retreat.

I-I-If you would excuse me, I’m going into the Loving room to see if everything’s ready.

Not caring one whit how he entertained himself, and desperately needing some space, Rosalind retreated to her second favorite place in the bakery.

I’ve always been rather curious about this room. You call it the Loving Room, right?

Rosalind’s fingers stilled on the placement she’d been adjusting, and she whirled around to face him. Sizing up the current situation, she groaned in dismay. Not only was Ace blocking her only exit, but her libido had bubbled to the surface in the form of a pair of perky nipples. Not one to be caught in an embarrassing situation twice, she crossed her arms over her chest.

She didn’t realize her defensive gesture squeezed her girls together and pushed them up and almost over the edge of her yellow sundress. But she caught on pretty quickly when his eyes darkened to a lush spearmint green and remained fixed between her collar bones and belly button.

What are you doing in here? she snapped.

Curiosity finally killed the cat.

His gaze drifted around the room. It remained off limits to everyone but staff and the soon-to-be-wedded couple. Heart pounding, Rosalind brushed aside his attempt at humor and focused on getting him the hell out of there.

Your nine lives have run out, buddy. It’s time for you to leave. Rosalind made a move to help him on his way, but he sidestepped her by pushing away from the door and walking over to the couple’s table.

Rosalind gulped. His mere presence shrunk the room in half and sucked all the oxygen out of it.

You don’t allow anyone in here to pick the cake but the betrothed. Why is that, Miss Fletcher?

She felt the hackles on the back of her neck stand up. Why should there be a reason? Shouldn’t the happy couple be allowed to make a personal decision without any outside influence?

Rosalind watched him trace the edge of a linen tablecloth with a fingernail before he looked up at her. She waited for him to say something or acknowledge her explanation, but he remained silent. Every second he stood there staring at her felt like a freakin’ eternity. How could a man she disliked so much affect her like this?

Modern love! Gets me to the church on time.

Saved by the bell or in this case a cell phone. Rosalind nodded her head toward the mobile in his hand as David Bowie repeated himself.

Ace glanced down