One Baked Witch: Magic and Mayhem Universe: Weekend Magic, #2

By Amy Gregory

Zak Efronavich and his little witch Isabelle have always been their own dynamic duo. But when his ex-wife comes begging for a bit of party money, Zak has no option but to high tail it out of town. And out of state to keep his daughter safe.

 

Joanna Dee is the eldest sibling of the three that run Carpe Diem Bed and Breakfast. She's hormonal, menopausal and sick of her younger sister's in-law's. They have been camped out, baked off their asses in her kitchen for months. Her entire outlook changes with the arrival of a new warlock to town and his sweet as sugar little witch.

• Language: English
• Publisher: REN Publishing
• Release date: Oct 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201101824

Amy Gregory

When asked ‘when do you have time to write’, Amy Gregory simply laughs.  The real answer is, “in bits and pieces”.  She and her husband live in Kansas City with their three fantastic kids that keep them running in three very different directions.  Because she sits so much, she always carries a notebook with her at all times. She has an off the wall, snarky, off the cuff sense of humor that often shocks even those who’ve known her for years.  And she loves that her children have all been blessed that ability to make others laugh as well.  At least she’s grateful most of the time!  Her husband often teases her about how she “makes this stuff up” when he’s reading a piece of her work. … The answer—“it just comes to me when I’m typing”. Scary thought, huh!

Book preview

Chapter 1

Joanna trudged down the hallway. Without knocking, she unlocked Marigold and Sam’s door. Sam, when are your parents leaving? It’s been six damn long ass monkeyfucking months. They’re still on my kitchen floor eating your sister’s wedding or, non-wedding cake, whatever you wanna call it. I don’t even know how there is any left. I don’t know how it’s not hard as fucking stone or how it’s just plain not gross and moldy. But I trip over them all the time. I want them gone. Now!

Sam and Marigold blinked awake in the bright sun. Marigold closed her eyes again.

Joanna cleared her throat. Huh-hum. A little help here would be nice, and I seriously don’t think it’s too much to ask for, Joanna said, her voice a step louder. I thought you said your parents were professional people who were extremely conservative. In case you haven’t noticed—they’re not. My entire kitchen smells like pot. And I accidentally got a couple high when they ordered dessert a few days ago. What in the hell would The Goddess think of that? I am so not going to the Magic Pokey for your parent’s being absolute immature dumbfucks.

It’s fine. The Goddess was here, and she didn’t seem to care at all, Sam replied. I need them to leave also, but don’t worry about the Goddess.

When in the fiery blazes of hell, was the Goddess here? Joanna asked, scared of the answer.

I think it was Thursday. And technically it was one of her assistants that she sent. But the Goddess sent her to check on things and give me an update on Samantha since we can’t see her for a hundred years, that and my parents were baked. But we got word to tell you she absolutely loved the brownies. We were so excited to finally hear about my sister, we sent a large plateful with the assistant to give the Goddess, Sam said.

Oh no, no, no. I didn’t bake those, your folks must have. Damn it hairy monkey balls, Sam—you got the Goddess stoned! That’s it. Get your parents out of here. They’ve got to go. I don’t care where, but I’m done with their baked asses in my space. I’m going to the store. If they’re here when I get back, I’m zapping one to the greenhouse and the other to your shop you moved here out by Marigold’s greenhouse. Got me, you two? Joanna stormed out.

As she heard the wood planks creek under her feet, she was so frustrated she couldn’t remember exactly what was missing from her grocery delivery for Carpe Diem Bed and Breakfast. She stomped through the kitchen not caring if she stepped on Mr. or Mrs. Walden. And she’d quit counting the number of times she’d smacked their heads into cabinet doors while trying to cook. She’d gotten to the point she didn’t feel bad anymore.

Want some cake, Joie? Mr. Walden asked.

My name is not Joie, it’s Joanna you brain fried freak. Get out of my kitchen. Go home. Go back to work. Go ride a broom. I don’t give a flying fuck anymore. I’m almost fifty in mortal years. I do not have the patience to deal with this much bullshit. Y’all are like fucking ground hog day. I just want to wake up and see my kitchen floor sparkling clean. Not have shit strung from here to Timbuktu because y’all decided to bake during the night. Newsflash! Y’all wouldn’t be starving all hours of the night and day if you were high all the time. I’m outta here.

Joanna didn’t need to be reminded of how much had changed just a few short months ago. Marigold found love and Joanna adored Sam, she really did. But they met, said ten words to each other and were in love. The next thing she knew they were dealing with Sam’s sister Samantha’s shit storm almost wedding. Then stood shocked watching her get hauled off by the Magic Pokey police trolls.

Her brother Rox still hadn’t quit laughing over Sam’s parents, but they weren’t in his way every long, long day. But the real pain of it all to her was down deep inside her soul. Watching Sam and Marigold walk in, married, that still stung—a lot.

Joanna yanked her purse off the hook by the door to the garage and went to her car. She was still seething when she got to the grocery store. Her list came to her, how she didn’t know because she was so rattled. But at least it was a short one. With only sriracha sauce and pure mozzarella to pick up for this week’s menu items, Joanna simply walked passed the carts and down to the refrigerated cheese section.

The pure stuff. That’s the sign of a great chef.

Joanna turned to see a, silver at the temples, blue-eyed handsome man talking. She looked around. Talking to me?

He nodded and pointed toward her hand.

Oh, ha. Cheese. I’m thinking menus, so my brain was elsewhere.

Menus. I’m right, a chef. I’m Sven. I’m on my way to a family dinner. It’d be rude to not arrive with something, non?

The stranger in her town was unique, and the accent had instantly dissipated her anger. I’m going to guess, you’re French? Joanna asked.

Oui. Oui.

Do you come this way often, or is it your first and last time in our town?

Depends. What would a pretty lady like yourself say to maybe dinner sometime? Sven replied.

I’d say—

Sven, oh, Sven. I found them. A chipper voice hollered down the entire aisle as she was holding up two loaves of freshly baked French bread in brown paper sacks from the bakery section.

Your daughter? Joanna asked just as the blonde runway model type lay her head on his shoulder. I guess not.

This is my girlfriend, Tatiana. Tell, Joanna, hello my dear.

Joanna looked away from the stranger’s hand still stretched out, waiting to be shaken. "You asked me out for dinner, yet you have a girlfriend. You literally are just a brand new kinda low. So, fuck off you jackmunch.

And Tatiana, one, you’re probably less than half his age. Do yourself a favor darlin’—dump his sorry ass now, before you get in too deep. You’re way too young to be with a player, there’s a whole realm out there with good guys.

Joanna walked to the front with only her cheese. She held the soft, white ball up so the teenager at the checkout counter could add it to her tab, saving her from waiting in line and possibly running into the Rico Suave wannabe. Between mood swings, hot flashes and immature bullshit she was ready to lock herself away in her room for the rest of the day with a large latte loaded with whip cream and binge-watch some sappy Hallmark movies until well after dark.

She opened her car door and put the ball of cheese beside her, remembering the sriracha still missing and the guests needing dinner later. Fuck my life, she grunted.

Chapter 2

Zak Efronavich closed his eyes, rubbed his temples