A Cure for Spring Fever

By Barbara Robinson

For centuries, Gamekeepers have used their magical abilities to create a buffer between the creatures who dwell in the enchanted forest and the sleepy coastal town that sits in its shadow. When Gamekeeper Stan Ross’s magic begins to fail, he must find out what went wrong, then fix it before the two worlds collide. His hit or miss magic has already led to a few close calls so he journeys to the Sacred Isle searching for answers and advice.
Finding a cure proves elusive—until Stan encounters a kitchen witch who captivates him body and soul. Lynnette Peters is healing from her own wounds, however, and it isn’t clear whether she’s ready to open herself to the possibility—or the peril—of love.

• Language: Unknown
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Apr 22, 2024
• ISBN: 9781509254996

Barbara Robinson

Barbara Robinson is a wife, mother, author and retired public sector executive. She holds a Bachelor of Arts from the University of King’s College and a Master of Arts from Dalhousie University. Barbara enjoys writing poetry and romantic fiction, and is especially drawn to stories with paranormal elements. Her writing spans the sub-genres of light paranormal, magical realism, and historical romance, and each of her stories promises a happily ever after with a distinctly otherworldly flair. Barbara lives in Nova Scotia, Canada, with her husband Michael, two basset hounds and a small dragon.

Book preview

A Cure for Spring Fever

by

Barbara Robinson

Jelly Beans and Spring Things Series

Copyright Notice

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

A Cure for Spring Fever

COPYRIGHT © 2023 by Barbara Robinson

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [e-mail]

Cover Art by Kristian Norris

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

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Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Edition, 2024

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-5499-6

Jelly Beans and Spring Things Series

Published in the United States of America

Chapter One

Responding to his third Code Red call in a week, Stan Ross swung open the bakery door to reveal a scene of chaos and confusion. Inhaling deeply, his nose twitched as his senses were accosted by the cloves, cinnamon and cayenne pepper that saturated the stale-aired space. Looking around, he noticed that someone had stuffed towels into the ventilation duct but hadn’t bothered to clean up the splatters that littered the space behind the counter.

Magic or mischief? he asked, shooting a glance at his partner, who was about to open the door to the kitchen.

Owen, or Gamekeeper First Class Jennings, as he liked to style himself, said, A little of both, and held the door open for Stan to look inside.

Half a dozen mjolkhares cavorted through the kitchen, looking for anything that contained milk, cream or butter. The creatures, who resembled adorable bunnies—when they weren’t terrorizing pantries—were notoriously destructive despite their small stature. From the tips of their tall, pointed ears to their fluffy white tails, the only indications of their fiendishness were curving claws on their forelegs and a certain cunning in their gaze.

As Stan’s own gaze swept the area and took in the scene of destruction, he was momentarily rendered speechless—until another ceramic baking dish crashed to the floor. He flinched, then cursed under his breath.

I think we’re going to need a plan Owen told him, letting out a low whistle. We could chase these guys around all morning with nets, and all we’d do is make more mess. No wonder they’re usually double-warded.

Well, they must have gotten through the wards because here they are, running amok in this shamble of a bakery, Stan said, watching the destruction unfold.

This ‘shamble’ of a bakery, as you so eloquently put it, was a charming little shop until these four-legged fiends arrived and trashed the place.

Stan heard the voice before he turned to see a woman emerging from the basement, arms laden with what looked like a large bowl of cream. Her eyes flashed annoyance as she took in his uniform. I thought that the gamekeepers were supposed to keep magical creatures under lockdown in the game preserves. Perhaps I was misinformed? she asked, making it clear who she held accountable for the disaster zone that was now her kitchen.

The magic we use to set our wards has been known to fail on occasion and sometimes a few of the creatures escape, Stan explained. Gamekeepers protect the boundaries of the enchanted forest by setting wards along the perimeter, but we are human, and human error—though rare—is not impossible. A moment of distraction or inattention can lead to a bind-rune being improperly constructed, or inappropriately placed. We do our best, but even the most carefully crafted sigil can fade with time. Sometimes the strength of a ward will weaken before it can be renewed.

Clearing his throat and continuing in his most conciliatory tone, he said, Setting things to rights is a responsibility of the gamekeepers. Nothing is 100% effective, and our role has always involved working to prevent breaches and responding to any that occur. On those rare occasions when the wards fail, we are here to respond. We’ll get these little fellas all rounded up and out of your hair in no time.

Will you, then? she asked, raising her eyebrows in skepticism. Setting the bowl on the counter, she blew a stray curl out of her face and gestured at the unfolding chaos. And how exactly are you planning to do that? If they were easy to catch, I wouldn’t have bothered calling you.

Stan bristled a bit but understood her concern. The mjolkhares leaped from shelf to shelf at such speed they appeared to be little more than white blurs against the background of the cheery yellow kitchen. He had to admit even he wasn’t certain how to go about rounding up the creatures and getting them safely back to the enchanted forest, so he decided to let it go. The woman was clearly under stress, and allowances could be made. That didn’t mean he had to like it.

Looking to Owen for rescue and finding only suppressed laughter shining in his partner’s eyes, Stan fell back on his media relations training, the essence of which was to throw out a lot of jargon without saying anything of substance. Protocol dictates that we assess the situation, Ma’am, and devise a viable plan to maximize re-capture potential—His explanation was interrupted by a sharp gesture from the woman’s hand. I have dinner plans, gentlemen, and I need these creatures out of my hair with time enough to clean up this ‘shamble’ before I leave tonight. So, if you don’t have a plan, we’re going to improvise.

Stan didn’t know whether he should be impressed or infuriated when she picked up the bowl and began to pour a long, thin trail of cream across the kitchen floor and leading to the back door. She was taking over without so much as a by-your-leave but doing it with a matter-of-fact confidence he couldn’t help but admire.

Seeming to ignore the gamekeepers’ stunned silence, she began barking orders. You, she said, thrusting her chin toward Owen. You’d best get some live traps to keep the mjolkhares contained once we lure them to us with the cream. With a quick glance at Stan, she said, You can stand by the door and make sure none of our little friends make a break for it.

Owen