That earned Mr. Spangler another whack. “You gave my sauce to a kid? You ain’t got the sense God gave a”—two more whacks—“wooden goose!”
The older man scowled and snatched the paper from her. “Ouch, woman! Knock it off—the kid’s eighteen, same as Donnie.”
“Oh,” she said, plopping down next to him. “That’s a horse of a different color then. Kid’s old enough to die for his country, he’s old enough to have himself a snoot or two.”
Yeah, maybe that idea wouldn’t worry me quite so much if I didn’t have little old ladies spiking moonshine with love potions, but I suppose that was one of the saner incidents in our lives lately.
All things considered, it was just another day in Keyhole Lake.
< < < < > > > >
Moonshine Valentine is set inside my Witches of Keyhole Lake mystery series. If you’d like to read more, check out Sweet Murder, the first book in the series, or go to her author page. To receive notifications about new releases and other exciting news from me, sign up for my newsletter. I have a no-spam guarantee!
About the Author
Tegan Maher was born and raised in the South, and even hung her motorcycle helmet in Colorado for a few months. She's always had a touch of wanderlust and has never feared just packing up and going on new adventures, whether in real life or via the pages of a great book.
When Tegan was a little girl, she didn't want to grow up to be a writer—she wanted to raise unicorns and be a superhero. Instead, she chose the next best thing: creating her own magical lands filled with adventure, magic, humor, and romance.
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Hex Obsession
Harmony Hart
Summary
After spending a lifetime of feeling like nothing special, Gemma Bradbury has finally found her place in the magical town of Salem. Thanks to her gorgeous tutor (and the man of her dreams) Beauregard Bacchus, she’s proving to be a more talented witch than anyone ever expected.
But Gemma’s skills are put to the test when Beau shows up on her doorstep with a magical emergency—a potion has gone awry, and the local potion master isn’t around to fix it. If Gemma doesn’t find an antidote before midnight, there may be deadly consequences.
All she needs is a little luck, a little help from her clingy feline familiar, and the strength to avoid Beau’s very welcome flirtations long enough to focus on the task at hand.
This humorous story takes place in the Witches of Salem World, as part of the Gemma Bradbury Paranormal Cozy Mystery Series, and includes a recipe for Gemma’s Spritz Cookies.
Hex Obsession
“He’ll never love you as much as I do. Even if you bake cookies for him.”
I rolled my eyes as I slid another sheet of spritz cookies into the wood-burning oven then spun around to glare at my familiar, Titus, who was licking stray bits of cookie dough off the countertop. I had always thought of her as a sweet cat. A bit needy, but sweet.
Okay, a lot needy.
But ever since we crossed over into the magical town of Salem and discovered we could communicate telepathically, she’d made it crystal clear that she wasn’t a fan of sharing me with anyone else.
“Like I said before, these are for the town’s St. Valentine’s Day Feast,” I replied. “And you know you’re not supposed to be on the counter.”
“Right. And what about these?” She padded over to a silk-lined basket filled with heart-shaped cookies and examined the gift tag labeled “To Beau With Love” dangling from a red ribbon. She flattened her ears. “I can’t read, so I’m going to assume this says ‘To Titus, the only cat I’ll ever love.’” She caught the ribbon in her mouth, gave it a good yank and began gnawing on the gift tag.
“I told you those were for Beau!” I shoved another baking sheet into the oven, slammed the door and snatched her away from the basket. “Why are you so jealous of him?”
“That’s Professor Bacchus to you.” She gave a half-hearted hiss as I set her on the floor. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that student-teacher relationships are inappropriate?”
“This is what I get for letting you watch all those Lifetime movies with me? Judgment and sass?” But some small part of me knew my cheeky black feline was right. I’d met Beau three months ago, on the same day I arrived in Salem and found out I’m a witch. Mayor Davenport told me she was assigning me a private tutor to teach me all things witchy, and I resisted at first. But then Beauregard Bacchus walked in, with his dark eyes, thick black hair, and sexy day-old scruff, and I knew I was in big trouble. The good kind of trouble, though. The kind where you keep repeating the same mistake hoping for the exact same outcome.
Beau seemed impervious to my flirtations at first, but in the last few weeks, something had changed between us. Enough for me to think I had a slight chance of winning his heart ... by way of his stomach, at least. If Beau rejected me, I could always nurse my broken heart over a good book and a baked-goods binge. But I certainly didn’t need fuzzy britches psyching me out before I even had a chance to tell him how I really felt. “They’re just cookies. To say thank you for teaching me,” I lied.
Titus swished her tail and stalked over to her water bowl. “For fang’s sake. You’re not fooling anyone, you know. Ever since he saw you making out with that rich genie at the Salem Yule Festival, he’s been giving off these broody lovesick vibes.”
“We weren’t making out! Clarence kissed me under the mistletoe. And then I ended things because I realized how much I love Beau.” I realized too late how much I’d just shared. Or rather, overshared. . Now I’d never hear the end of it.
“Ah-hah! I knew it! You love him. Before I know it, he’ll be moving in here—with his giant brain full of words and his big, stupid calico cat who eats everything in sight—and you’ll forget all about me.” She dropped onto her belly, settled her chin on top of her paws, and pouted.
“Oh, stop.” Titus always had a flair for the dramatic, and I fell for it almost every time. I knew she was being ridiculous, but I also knew what it felt like to be abandoned, and I wouldn’t wish that feeling on anyone. I sat down on the floor next to Titus, stroking her inky black fur until I coaxed a reluctant purr from her throat. “You know you’ll always be my number one. If it makes you feel any better, I also baked a basket of cookies for Nora.”
Nora Bradbury was new to Salem, too. She’d crossed over from the human realm just a couple of weeks ago, and I was secretly more than a little desperate to befriend her. I didn’t know anyone else who had crossed over in recent years, and even though I was starting to find my place here in Salem, the idea of spending an afternoon with someone who actually knew what Starbucks was made me giddy.
From what I heard, Nora was a no-nonsense workaholic, so she could probably use a good girls’ night in. She didn’t seem like the type to indulge in makeovers and slumber parties, but still, there was something about her that drew me in and made me believe we would be great friends one day. If nothing else, we could reminisce about the lost joys of Facebook and Netflix. And electricity, for that matter.
“I like Nora,” Titus said.
“So do I.”
“But Nora has a dog. I hate dogs.”
“You’ve never even met a dog,” I said.
“That’s because I hate them.” She punctuated her statement with a short hiss.
“Fine. You let me know when you’re in a better mood, and I’ll give you a cookie.”
“I’d be in a better mood if you gave me a cookie now,” she snapped.
“Your guilt trips work a little better when you’re actually being nice to me.” I stood with a sigh, retrieving the last batch of cookies from the oven and transferring them to a pair of wire racks to cool.
I was mulling over the idea of giving Titus a cookie with a bit of cream (I know, I’m a total sucker) when we were both startled by a loud knock on the shop door downstairs. Well, I was startled. Titus nearly jumped out of h
er skin and scrambled into the bedroom to hide. I swear, she gave new life to the term “scaredy-cat” every day.
I wiped off my flour-dusted hands on my apron and started down the stairs as the persistent knock intensified to a panicked banging, which in turn intensified my initial twinge of annoyance at being disturbed on my only day off. Between running the magic shop and the bookshop—both abandoned by their former owners via an untimely death and imprisonment for murder, respectively—and studying to pass my Basic Witch Exams, I hadn’t had much downtime since coming to Salem.
But anyone who knocked like that clearly needed something important, so I brushed off the irritation as I crossed the shop floor and opened the door with a smile.
I don’t know who I expected to see, but it certainly wasn’t the elderly man leaning on a cane, gripping a small vial in one hand. Something about his black eyes seemed familiar, and yet I couldn’t quite place him. As I opened my mouth to ask what I could do for him, Beau appeared behind him, looking apologetic.
“Beau!” I brushed a stray tendril of hair off my cheek and tucked it back into my ever-present messy topknot, then smoothed my apron. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
Right on cue, Titus appeared, weaving a figure eight between my legs in a not-so-subtle attempt to draw my attention away from her human nemesis.
“Braving the perils of downstairs so soon after your harrowing knock ordeal?” I asked. She responded only with silence and a quick swipe at my ankle before padding off. I guess she didn’t appreciate my sense of humor.
“I would have sent an owl, but we were just a few doors down, so it seemed like a waste of time,” Beau said. “I’m sorry to bother you on a Sunday. I know how much you value your alone time.”
“No, it’s fine! I love being alone with you!” Holy shifter! Did I really just say that?
Beau arched a brow, and I felt that familiar heat rising in my cheeks, the one that seemed to be reserved only for him. “Well, that’s embarrassing. I obviously haven’t had enough coffee today. What I meant to say is, I don’t mind you being here.” I leaned against the doorframe, flashing my best I-didn’t-almost-profess-my-undying-love-for-you smile. Sadly, this was not the first time I’d had to employ it.
“Can we come in?” Beau asked.
“Oh! Oh my gosh! Of course.” I stepped aside and motioned for Beau and the old man to enter. “I have no idea where my mind is today.”
“Probably daydreaming about locking lips with the professor,” Titus interjected as she wove between my legs, rubbing against them in a not-so-subtle cry for attention.
“Don’t you have an invisible bug to chase or something?”
“Nope. Already caught it. Just here to make sure you don’t do anything stupid with the professor.”
“What I do with the professor is none of your business.”
“Says you. Who’s the old guy?”
“I don’t know, but we’re about to find out.”
As I argued with Titus in my head, the man leaned hard on his cane, his arm wobbling under the strain of his body weight as he shuffled across the threshold and made his way to the seating area near the fireplace. Beau followed and closed the door behind him, pausing inside the doorway, just inches from me. As I gazed up at his handsome features, my heart thumping like a wild rabbit’s, he cupped side of my face and tilted his head with an amused smile. “This is it. He’s going to kiss me.”
“That’s it. I’m outta here!” With a hiss of annoyance, she retreated upstairs to tend to her wounded ego.
“Gemma—” he began. I closed my eyes and leaned into his hand, still cold from the icy February winds, and allowed the bliss of his simple touch to spread over me like warm molasses. “You just have a little …” He swept the pad of his thumb across my cheek and drew his hand back to examine it. “Flour?”
“Oh!” My eyes flew open, and my fingertips covered the spot where Beau’s hand had been. “Thanks. I’ve been baking.”
“If your baking is anything like your cooking, my mouth is already watering.”
“If you two are done dancing around the elephant shifter in the room, can we get down to business?” The old man wheezed as he lowered himself onto one of two fuchsia wingback chairs near the fireplace. They used to be a putrid, rotten olive color, but that was before I took over the shop and made a conscious decision to brighten things up a bit. I couldn’t bear the idea of spending every day surrounded by fifty shades of brown. “I don’t know how much time I have left.”
Thanks for interrupting our almost-first-kiss, cranky pants. Beau and I took our usual seats next to each other on the pale gray linen sofa, and I turned toward him. “I guess we could start by one of you telling me what’s going on.”
Beau cleared his throat. “Wendell?”
The old man narrowed his eyes. “So much for keeping my secret. Just like an earth witch.”
“If by that you mean practical, then yes. No one answered the door at Pixie Potions. If you want to undo the effects of that tonic today, Gemma has a vast selection of magical ingredients at her disposal and the smarts to solve your problem. But if you’d rather take your chances waiting on Stella to return …” Beau shrugged and made a move to stand up.
“Hold your broomstick, Professor! I’m getting there.” The man raised his cane and shook it in Beau’s direction.
As he did, part of the cane glinted in the firelight, drawing my attention to a tiny gold “W” affixed to its base. My eyes traveled upward, taking in the mesmerizing details on the crook of hand-carved wood, the gold rings on his frail fingers, and the burgundy plaid three-piece suit. Then it hit me. I knew him.
“Wendell … Wickersham? Is that you?”
Wendell Wickersham, proud proprietor of Wendell’s Wands & Brooms, was the magical realm’s most sought-after craftsman, and his shop was just a few doors down from mine.
“You recognize me?” He flashed a closed-mouth smile, his signature dimples barely visible in those wrinkled old cheeks. “My youthful appearance must be returning! Maybe the tonic is wearing off. Do you have a mirror?”
“Yes, but … it’s probably best you just sit here. If someone cast an old age spell on you, it’s definitely not wearing off. In fact,”—I glanced at Beau, knowing Wendell would not be pleased with what I had to say next—“it kind of looks like you’re getting older by the minute. Is that possible?”
Wendell’s eyes grew wide. “So, it’s true!” He cried out, clutching his cane as he slumped over, defeated. “I’m dying. By this time tomorrow, I’ll be gone.”
“He’s aging so rapidly,” offered Beau, “that he probably won’t last beyond midnight. Unless we can reverse the effects.”
“Wait, back up. How do we know this is a result of a tincture, and not a curse?” I asked.
“I have the same drink every night before bed,” Wendell said. He held up a small amber vial and set it on the coffee table. “This potion mixed into a glass of fizz. I drank it last night, same as always. And this morning when I woke up, I looked like this!” He paused, wheezing from exertion. “It had to be the tincture. It just had to be.” His eyes met mine, onyx orbs brimming with tears, and I felt my heart break a little bit. Seeing the spry, handsome craftsman reduced to such a fragile state reminded me of my Gran in her last few months. I wanted to help him. But how?
“I’m so sorry you’re going through this, Wendell. But why come to me?”
“We tried to ask Stella at Pixie Potions Apothecary for guidance, but we couldn’t find her.” He wiped the tears from his cheeks with a shaky hand. “We need you to create an antidote.”
“I’ll do my best, but I’m nowhere near as experienced as she is.”
Beau turned to me, taking my hands in his. “No, but you have more intuition and raw talent than any witch I’ve ever taught. Plus,” he made a sweeping gesture toward the main shop area, “you have every ingredient we could possibly need.”
I bit my lip, torn between pleasing the man of my dreams an
d admitting the truth—that I could already tell I was in over my head. I was seconds away from suggesting we go to Avalon to look for Stella, but one look into Beau’s expectant eyes and all I wanted to do was make him proud.
And if I could save Wendell from meeting an untimely death in the process, even better.
“Okay,” I agreed, blowing out a breath. “Let’s do this.”
I prepared a pot of jasmine tea and served each of the men, then returned to my seat with my own cup, a leather-bound notebook, and a pencil. I brought the edge of the cup to my mouth, allowing the floral fragrance to calm my nerves as I gathered my thoughts, then took a sip.
“Let’s start from the beginning. Where do you get this tincture?” I asked Wendell.
“From Pixie Potions, of course. Stella makes it. That’s why we tried to find her first,” he answered.
Stella Lytefoot was the go-to potions master and creative genius behind Pixie Potions. Her life partner, Kayleigh, was kind of a disaster when it came to potion making, but the business side of things was second nature to her.
“She and Kayleigh are in Avalon on business,” I explained. “They had a few items to pick up that they can’t get here in Salem. Which seems weird, considering every herb, crystal, oil or plant they could possibly need can be found right here in this shop. But whatever.”
“For now, we have no way to reach them. The owls still refusing to deliver messages to Avalon until their demands are met.”
Wendell frowned. “Those blasted birds! The High Council never should have let them unionize. They barely even work anymore.”
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