Big Girls Don't Scry: Magic and Mayhem Universe

By Marianne Morea

What's a bar-owning witch to do when a ghost with a grudge starts messing with her happy? Not to mention, messing with the love of her life over an ancestor everyone hates. She calls on her half-demon BFF, and a secret weapon she didn't know she had—The Baba Yaga, a.k.a. the most powerful witch in the world.

 

Tabitha Morgan is in for the fight of her life…well, for the life of her fiancée, when he's taken over and taken hostage by a hostile witch ghost. History runs amok in this sorcerer's suspense, set in the witchiest place on earth and the home of the magical pokey. Take a ride in a hail of purple smoke and rainbow sparkles, and the worst fashion sense since disco fever died, and see how this ragtag group works magic they didn't know they had to save the day.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Marianne Morea
• Release date: Jun 22, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393115724

Book preview

Chapter One

Jackwagon, pony dong eater, I muttered under my breath.

Interesting turn of phrase, Tabitha. You’re only that colorful when irritated. Who’s the guilty party?

My best friend in the whole world had slid onto a barstool catty-cornered from where I stood pulling pints. I didn’t need to look up. I saw her sit from my peripheral vision. Her tone told me she wore a smirk on her irritatingly pretty face.

No one, Linz. Forget it. I put a fresh pint in front of her.

She slipped her fingers around the damp glass, drumming on either side of the pint. Nope. Not happening, hot stuff. Not the expletive bubble that is still lingering above your head.

It’s bad enough you look like a tiny super model, do you always have to be so smart?

I cocked one hip, trying to stare her down, but her pixyish look was just too cute. How does a half-demon manage to look so charming and angelic?

Linzie shrugged, lifting her beer. I’m a Hellborne. It’s part of the camouflage. How does a bar-owning witch become a demon’s BFF?

With the last name Morgan? As in the infamous Morgan le Fay? I replied, wiping the condensation from her pint from the bar surface.

Yeah, nice try, Tabs.

Grinning, I flipped the bar towel over my shoulder. Okay, maybe not Arthur and his gang, but you have to admit, most of us are fascinated with the dark side, even if it tends to bites us in the ass. My gaze slid to a table across the bar and a frown tugged at my mouth. Or turns out to be a third-class panty wad, wedgie from Hell bastard.

Your fingers are sparking. Linz gestured to my free hand and then followed my line of sight. Dallas Crowe.

Wedgies don’t come from Hell, Tabitha. If they did, there’d be seared assholes across teenage America. Though, for Jackwagon pony dong eaters, not a bad idea. She turned her eyes back to me and raised an eyebrow. Third-class panty wad? Do I want to know what qualifies as first-class?

I rolled my eyes, but closed my fingertips into my palm, just the same.

Linzie knew exactly how to diffuse my temper. In fact, I owed her plenty for near misses in property damage across the city of Salem. That’s where we’re from. Home of the original gangsta witches. I don’t mean those unfortunate souls who died at the hand of hysterics. I mean real witches. The ones who stayed under the Malleus Maleficarum radar. That ridiculous treatise known as the Hammer of Witches, responsible for so many deaths, especially here in in Salem.

Still, that was my past. My short fuse was responsible for most of the trouble in life, including a short stay in magical jail. All I can say about that is at least the magical pokey was local—it’s located here in Salem—and I got to meet Zelda. A fabulous witch with a colorful vocabulary that put mine to shame, and a taste for ill-gotten designer duds. The reason for her jail stint, by the way, that and running over her familiar with her car.

I haven’t seen my jailbird pal in a while, but we text and Facetime when we can. Hard to believe, but Zelda, Queen of Conjured Couture and Cusswords, is settled with a hunky mate and two gorgeous kids, somewhere in West Virginia.

I’m still in Salem, but things have changed for me as well. Mostly because I met the love of my life. Not many people can say their relationship began off of an accidental ass zapping, but not many people are witches with a short fuse. To say my relationship with Michael Hawthorne was electric from the start is an understatement, and he still has the scar on his rather amazing posterior.

A grin spread across her lips as she sipped her beer. Since we’re no longer in jeopardy of setting the bar on fire, what has your ex done now?

He used my credit card to order his new girlfriend edible underwear. A six-pack of cherry-flavored thongs!

Ew. Linz wrinkled her nose. "Talk about a sweaty, sticky third-class panty wad."

I spit my own beer, nearly choking.

"Tabitha Morgan, you are one gem of a Green Witch, but I think Dallas ‘I’m hotter than Hell’ Crowe needs a lesson in respect, and who better from than someone truly Hell born." Linzie pulled her purple-lensed Bram Stoker Dracula glasses down her pert nose, letting her blue eyes flash over solid black.

Linzie Hellborne was half demon, half healer witch. It’s why her short jet-black hair had unusual highlights that sparkled when they caught the light. Her mother had a hook up with a demon-turned-semi-good-guy, falling for the bad boy whose reformed status allowed him to assume human form.

Still, Linz was lucky she didn’t inherit her birth father’s natural state, or she’d have a face full of eyes, instead of the two piercing blue ones that sometimes went black and scary.

I rolled my eyes again, grabbing two shot glasses and a chilled bottle of Grey Goose. "Tuck your demony ass away, girlfriend. I’ve got bar tabs I’d like paid without me having to chase down screaming customers. Hecate’s is a neutral zone, despite the bar’s witchy name. Magic is discouraged."

Discouraged, but not forbidden.

Let’s put it this way, the consequences aren’t pretty. It’s the only reason Dallas’s big head isn’t as squishy and bald as his manscaped little head.

It was Linzie’s turn to choke on her beer.

TMI? I said, pouring us two doubles.

She reached for the bar towel on my shoulder and wiped her mouth. You think?

I pushed a double shot toward my friend. I could, you know. I gestured toward Dallas. Get even just for kicks. Holding my own shot, I wiggled the third finger on my left hand, letting the large diamond shimmer in the bar’s amber light. Michael is the best lawyer in the Boston area.

She lifted her shot glass, holding it toward mine. Which is why you should give him your credit card slips to dispute. Dallas is so not worth it. Besides, you have other things to worry about. Your wedding is in a month, or did you forget?

A lump formed in my throat at the thought of Michael waiting for me at the end of that long white aisle. How could I forget?

Good. Because you have a fitting in Boston tomorrow. Have you found someone to replace your jailbird friend in the wedding party yet?

No one can replace Zelda. She’s a character unlike any other.

Yes…and I’d like to meet her someday, but that doesn’t answer my question. I’m taking a real risk walking that church aisle ahead of you, and I want to know if I’ll have someone in front of me to use for stop, drop and roll, if things go up in flame.

"You mean like you bursting into flame? Relax, Linz. I talked Michael out of the church thing. His line is so diluted, he didn’t think how uncomfortable consecrated ground could be for some of our guests. We’re doing vows outside. It’s July, and the weather is gorgeous. So why not? It’ll make the Goddess happy, and that makes for a glorious day."

Diluted? Isn’t there some rule against magicals hooking up with non-magicals?

I blinked at her. You really need to brush up on our laws, girlfriend, or Babayostuckintheeighties will fry your pixie-looking butt the next time she comes to town.

Babayowhat?

"Babayostuckintheeighties. Or at least that’s what Zelda calls her, among other things. It’s because the Baba Yaga loves all things eighties, especially the fashion and hairstyles."

Linzie’s face said it all.

"I know. Definitely a fashion don’t across the board. Still, why else would a bar named Hecate’s have a disco ball? I pointed to the black-draped orb on the ceiling. For the Baba Yaster."

And she doesn’t fry Zelda’s ass for fucking with her name?

I chuckled remembering the last time Zelda was zapped bald courtesy of our supreme leader. Only when Zelda pushes the issue, though Baba gives her a lot of latitude, considering she’s dating Zelda’s dad.

I nodded at the look Linz shot over her beer. Theirs is a complicated relationship, to say the least.

You think? Makes me want to meet Zelda all the more. Are you sure she can’t make the wedding?

I nodded. "Zelda’s got enough on her plate. Lots of magical haywire. Baba Yaga’s involved, too. It’s overly complicated, like everything in Zelda’s life. Still, she bought my wedding dress. Or I hope she bought it, or she’s tempting another stint in the pokey."

Not with Baba Yaga for a quasi-mother-in-law.

I exhaled another small laugh. True that. Zelda can have all the complicated in the magical world. I prefer simple and easy. Simple, how my panties dampen when I look at Michael, and easy how we fit together like—

Stop! Ears threatening to bleed.

Grinning, I rubbed a finger under my lower lip. You sure you’re a halfling demon? Sex is usually your thing.

Not when the image you paint conjures my BFF and her hubby playing naked twister. She smirked. "Still, Mikey-Boy is pretty hot."

My fingers sparked involuntarily, sizzling the condensation on the bar.

Relax, Tabs. Linzie laughed, dunking my hand in her beer. You know I’m teasing.

Sorry. Automatic reflex.

Well? Linz asked.

Well, what? I said I was sorry.

"Not about that. About Michael and his diluted blood. I know the wedding is on, but is it on on…you know, Goddess sanctioned?"

I smiled, wiping my beer drippy fingers on a bar towel. It’s sanctioned. Michael’s blood passed the test. If just barely. My bloodline more than makes up for any magical shortfalls. The witchy gene will prevail when we have kids.

Crotch goblins. Linz made a face. No thanks. I’m very happy being a future auntie.

Demons eat their young. What makes you think I’ll let you near my hypothetical children?

I have no problem with hypothetical.

I rolled my eyes for the third time. You’ll be a terrific auntie, but if you keep that up, I may have to spell you into being their godmother.

Anything but that. Linzie feigned a shiver.

I lifted my shot glass and waited for her to do the same. To friendship and future crotch goblins.

She touched her glass to mine. Don’t push it.

I went to drain my vodka, but I stopped with the shot halfway to my lips. A grin tugged at my lips, even as my heart skipped a beat. His back was turned, but I’d know the tall, lean line of him anywhere. The way his jeans hugged his hips and molded to long, muscular legs. The width of his shoulders and how his dark hair skimmed the back of his neck.

Okay, then. I’m going to call it a night. Linzie drained her shot, not waiting for my clink.

I pulled my gaze back from peering past her shoulder. What? Why?

"Because three’s a crowd. Or