by Alison Charm
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Excerpt from The Witch and the Alpha
Description: Anne Grace is the successor of Beatrice Grace, one of the best witches in the coven. Unfortunately, Anne was as common as her name. As a half witch, she can barely perform any magic without a cane. All her life, she was rejected by her lack of skills and birth. She just cannot assimilate into the human world or the paranormal side. It certainly did not help matters when her grandmother is known statewide, or even paranormal-wide, to have a thing for a certain alpha of the pack. To make matters worse, dear Granny Bea accepted a job on behalf of Anne, forcing her to work side-by-side with this hot annoying son of the alpha!
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Chapter 1
“Dang it!” I cried, nursing my burning finger. This was the last time I lighted a cauldron with a lighter instead of magic. How had the cavemen ever gotten used to the wood and fire was beyond me. As of now, I could not function without dabbling with a spell each day.
“Language, young lady.” My grandmother, Beatrice Grace, admonished in her elegant voice from behind the floral drapes. She was working in front of the store, calculating our day’s earning no doubt. Grandmother, who literally forced everyone to call her Bea, because she wanted to look her age, was a calculative money maker. My smart alec response of her being in the wrong profession nearly got my ass branded. One, branding was not fun. Teens today did not realize that tattoos for witches were more permanent than husbands, okay…a little irrelevant comparison here, but most importantly it seriously kills your magic and I needed my magic. Second, back to my grandmother, she looked barely older than I am. Once we matured into our ‘God given’ maturity, we stayed relatively the same. Meaning: my grandmother remained a slim goddess with blonde hair and blue eyes despite her hundred point five lights, whereas I was the fatter, with the inherited looks from my father, version in twenty point three lights.
Point lights are the measured power of a witch and the number in front is well, our age. Every year we witches underwent a sparkling test. Yes. Sparkling is not used as an adjective here. We needed to make water sparkle and the level of sparkles determines our power level. Seriously, the paranormal world was cracked up. How could such a thing determine – oh whatever! If I was not a daily inhabitant of this warped up reality, I would seriously doubt my sanity. Grandmother, being the third most powerful witch in the (known) world, was of course, miffed about my measly level. Often times, I would hear her grumble about my no good father who tampered with my powers. No good father was a human, so in short, I was a sad half human. Every time she grumbles, I would roll my eyes. She should be thankful I did not spurn magic like my mother, her dear daughter. Mother gave up her powers to be with father which was utterly romantic only she disowned me when I did not follow suit. Family, right? Sometimes I would imagine what if I did. Believe me, I was not regretting the wedge my decision had pierced in my familial relationship. It was more of the secret I held. The secret I came to know when I turned sixteen. Sixteen was an age when teenagers do stupid things and I was secretly creating a spell that would skip that age forever so less people’s lives would be ruined during that age.
“Anne!”
“What?” I yelled out immediately after my grandmother. I rumbled through the shelves for labels of herbs to throw into my concoction. If grandmother would like me to help make potions, she should not turn the labels to the back. This is why I hate - no scratch that - dislike people with power. They somehow automatically assumed that other people would possess the same skill to decipher what something is by looking at it. In my dear grandmother’s fucked up sense of humour, see through the jars – opaque jars.
“Stop fucking swearing!” Sweet granny Bea shouted back. Great. See what I mean?
“What do you want? I’m busy!” Finally, I found the lavender. I sprinkled my little personal touch to the unfortunate person who got this catnip. The lady who ordered this itchy powder must really have hated her ex. A heavy dose of this would probably render the poor man a year’s worth of bad luck itches.
“I signed you up for the Mating ceremony!”
“You what!” I dumped the whole jar into the cauldron and nearly ran out the door. “Why the shit hell did you do that?”
“Don’t swear!” Grandma Bea sent me a flick of spark magic, hitting my forehead and effectively made me blind for a minute or two due to the shit hell of a pain. “You’re too lazy and you need practice. Besides, you know the boy so it would be nice to make friends. We’re in an alliance anyway.”
“Someone I know…wait…sh-hala doo doo, you can’t mean – ” My throat constricted and I was breathing hard trying to say the name, the name for the image of the man in my mind who never ceased to laugh and taunt me.
“Sh-hala doo doo?” Grandma Bea lifted an eyebrow at me with her smirk, God, she was beautiful and if I could inflict pain on my elders and not receive any punishment in consequence, please let me do so. “Grant Harris of the Legends Pack, yes.”
Time stopped or my heart stopped beating for a moment before my brain kicked back in fury. My panic was not light when I was stressed and the man caused me insurmountable level of stress. He was the bane of my existence, my mortal enemy. The one I avoided at all cost because he was a sleazy bastard who loved to spread spores like a mushroom.
“Why can’t you go?” My eyes drilled a hole at the back of my grandmother but of course she ignored me. Again.
“You know I don’t go well with Mrs. Harris.” Grandmother sniffed indignantly. This was age old history. Apparently, grandma had a thing for Mr. Harris and as the rumour goes, it did not end well. It was completely my grandmother’s fault that caused all these bad relationships but I suppose you could not blame her. She was pretty. And Mr. Harris, even though he was like my father’s age, was seriously hot. Oh. My. God. No! Stop thinking!
“That’s not the point! Why can’t you let Genie or Jenie or Kenie deal with this?” I pushed the triplets forward knowing they would love to get involved with sexy man even though my skin was crawling with hate, hate, hate! Those three were something akin to childhood friends. Heck, we all were. They were the reason I was stuck in a limbo between human and witch.
“Because our coven needs to be strong and you are unfortunately my successor, so you have to do something.”
“Drat.”
“I agree.”
Definitely not comforting but that was as expected from my grandmother. She never lied to me but she could be darn manipulatively, always taking me to the supernatural parties that got me all excited. Except finding out you are going to mate a man whore. Anyway, that was beside the point. The point was, our coven had not done much recently of any good and my grandmother pushing this job onto me meant we desperately needed the job.
“I don’t want to work for the man whore who cannot function without playing hide the salami with girls from morning to dusk!”
“Glad to know.”
That voice did not sound like my grandma. “Shit! Who said that?”
The bemused laugh coming somewhere in the room, shook me to my very core and made my sex nightmares resurface in the morning light. “Seems like time stopped for you Anne Grace, the half wench witch.”
“Don’t call me that, you walking sex mutt.” I snapped back with a growl which only caused the infuriating man to laugh. Jesus, even I could not swear properly within two seconds of hearing the man’s voice.
“So I’ll see you then.”
My chest was still heaving and the brief two seconds convo was still repeating inside my head when I asked my grandmother. “Speaker phone?”
“Yep.”
What I would do to wipe that smile off her beautiful face. Rolling my eyes heavenward for a lightening rod at least, I entered the back room to finish my spell. This was so not good.
***
Excerpt from Stringing A Doctor
Description: Recent divorcee, Rosalind Jones left for Charlestown to lick her wounds after a humiliating betrayal b
y her near decade of marriage. With no job experience or prospects, she was in a total lost until her friend gave her the best idea ever to start a Knitting Club. Her friend, Gina was adamant that playing with yarn would never rope in available men but fate planned otherwise. With four dear ladies and a wacky best friend, Rose might finally get another chance at her happily ever after.
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Prologue
“Both sides have agreed that Ms. Rosalind Jones will be given the townhouse, car and $30 000 as annulment. The court declares Rosalind Jones and Matthew Martin now - divorced.”
Rosalind caught a glimpse of her husband for six year’s happy expression with his new girlfriend. After so many years with him, she was quite good at reading his body language – relieved and happy, make that extremely happy.
She never thought that at twenty – nine years old she would be starting another chapter of her life. That wasn’t entirely true; she had started her new life about three months ago when his husband was having sex with his girlfriend in her kitchen. She was ashamed to say that instead of throwing a tantrum; she had waited patiently in the living room after his husband was done so they could discuss over things. Never mind the noises they were making. Let’s not talk about that. It was probably then she realized that their marriage wasn’t going to continue. She’d never told anyone about how she discovered his infidelity. From novels she read in secret, heroines never did something like this. She felt weak and pathetic, not that she’d ever want to admit that.
Her lawyer, Kate Collen, steered her away towards the exit. The surroundings passed by her like the fleeting scenery during a train ride. The summer wind wasn’t doing anything to assist with her melancholy. The sun shining so brightly overhead was in celebration. Was Mother Nature laughing at her or congratulating her?
“I hope you don’t find it offensive, but I must say ‘Congratulations’. You’re better off without him. The man has been cheating around when he has such a wonderful wife at home. I wish you luck and if you need any law advice, you know where to contact me.” With that, Kate waved and went to her car.
Rose stood for a moment to digest her surroundings, everything seemed so surreal. She was divorced after six years. It hadn’t even been a decade and she was already discarded. Used goods. Old. Was this what life is? Was this how long she could hold onto a man in her life? Matthew was her first lover. It was like those romantic stories where she saved her virginity for their wedding night. She had thought they would grow old together. Live to see their children and grandchildren. Rose sniffed loudly. The air did nothing to calm her soul. One thing for certain, happily ever after did not exist. With that thought, she slowly got in her little VW.
Chapter 1
“Is that why you moved to Charlestown to lick your wounds?!” Her friend waved exasperatedly. “I swear, you should stay and take revenge over that man! Strut your stuff in front of his face. You have a 34 C that every porn star would love to have and those nice curvy hips! How can you always hide them in those disgustingly large sweaters?!”
Comically, a man beside their table spewed out his coffee and coughed. His newspaper wet. Rose was certain he wasn’t the only one. Her friend Georgiana Fiore or Gina for short, because she hated her English name, was flamboyant and dramatic. Gina caught two types of attention wherever she went. Either she made you believe that the Earth is flat or that she was like a bee, buzzing in your ear – not to mention the poison needle that would paralyze you, she would never kill you immediately because she preferred it nice and slow.
Rose slid her napkins to the spewing coffee man and resumed her knitting. The man murmured his thanks before he wiped the scene of the crime. Gina didn’t even notice and was rambling on about her ex’s stupidity.
Rose was already used to Gina’s profanity since middle school. Perhaps that was when she developed such a calm reaction to everything shocking. When people would be squeal or get excited, her heart would pound a fraction higher than normal at best. Her family and friends had all said that she was the calmest person to be around – making her the best babysitter during family gatherings. As years passed by, she couldn’t help but think that this might be a curse.
“Oh for heaven’s sake! You’re knitting! Seriously, even my grandmother does more exciting things than you! She goes skydiving at 75 and you’re knitting at 29. God. Help me.” Gina shook her head dramatically and sipped her latte. Grimacing, she looked around. “You’re giving me a headache. I need sugar.”
“Here Gina, have some of mine.” Rose poured her French vanilla into her friend’s cup, as if nothing happened.
“Mmm….French vanilla latte.” Gina grinned and sighed. “We’re completely polar opposites. Why did we ever become best friends?” And they were. They have been inseparable since Gina fell from a tree and broke Rose’s ankle at the age of four. Gina felt guilty and spent her entire summer with Rose. Needless to say, they became good friends. Rose was the voice of reason whereas Gina was free to be as wild as she wanted knowing they both got each other’s back.
“Seriously, you’re single and free! You need to live your life! What are you going to do?”
Rose’s mind drifted. What could she do with an English degree? Not to mention she didn’t have any work experience. She was content with staying home and managing their home. She wanted children but her ex – husband wanted his firm to be solidified in the field before starting a family. Perhaps she was fortunate. She read that a child brought up in a separated home could have negative mental effects. Not to mention, the divorce would be a lot more complicated with a child involved. Still, what is this stabbing pain in her heart?
“Hello? Earth to Rose?!” Gina’s eyebrows shot up to look at her quizzically. “Are you going to go back to school? You sold the house and everything so you have a lump sum to work with. Get a specialist degree?”
The answer was clear and definite. “No, I feel drained already and it’s been too long to go back to the hectic life of a student.”
Gina nodded like she once thought about the same thing. “Start a business? You can join a venture or something. Some of my clients do that.” Gina work as an interior designer. She was the one who got Rose her townhouse. Gina was dating the real estate agent at the time so Rose got a pretty good deal. Rose made a noncommittal nod.
“Anything except working with yarn because that just makes you look old and you definitely can’t meet guys.” Her friend snorted unladylike.
Rose’s heart bloomed like she had just received the greatest gift. And it showed pleasantly on her face. Gina began shaking her head with a look of horror like one of those horror films’ characters.
“Oh no, no, no…I did not mean – wait for me!” Gina followed her friend who had already dumped everything into her large bag and was jogging out the door.
~~~
2 months later
“Oh my dear, that is such an exquisite pattern! How’d you ever make it?” Mrs. Elizabeth Turner remarked with her pleasant English accent. Eliza, to her friends, was the sunniest person in the group. She was outgoing with grayish hair cascading down her back and sky blue glasses. She was also dressed the most hip or to others, a hippyish. She was positively wild today with her sunflower print dress and long hat. Wherever did she find such clothing?
“Oh Eliza, you’re such a flatterer. Rosy taught me yesterday…oh let’s see…it goes like – like…oh Rosy, how do you do it?” Mrs. Joy Monroe turned to Rose with her innocently shining green eyes. On her pale complexion and styled white hair, Rose got to admit that Joy Monroe must be a real beauty when she was younger. Rose grinned and took over the instructing.
It has been a month since she started the knitting club at home. She managed to get a group of four ladies interested in knitting from the community centre and started the club at home. For a small fee, she taught the ladies various knitting patterns and now they were making dollies.
“You have such wonderful long fingers. So delicate.” Joy was really, a jo
y. Always dressed to the nines, she appeared to be one of those classic characters in those black and white movies. Fortunately, she didn’t have a snobbish air around her unlike those typically portrayed characters.
“I bet it reminds you of yours.” Mrs. Linda Howards giggled along with Elizabeth and Marianne Timmons. Linda was the most forward of the group. She was like Gina with her no nonsense approach. Her hair was dyed brown and her face heavy with make – up. Even so, she looked really well for her age.
Marianne was a sweet old lady who lived across the street. She was a proficient knitter herself and knew a lot more patterns but the club gave her something to tie over her idle days. She was always dressed in pastel suits and adorned her favourite pearls earring and necklace set. Rose was sympathetic to the old woman for it must have been years since her children last visited her. They lived far away she had said. The sadness in her voice closed any future topics. Rose made a silent promise to visit her often.
“Oh, did you hear? George Luther broke up with that trumpet.” Linda smirked and carried on. And yes, the knitting club was also known as the gossip club. Whoever said old ladies were slow and senile should get their heads examined instead. These ladies were like fortune tellers slash intense gamblers. Joy and Elizabeth clucked their tongues and slapped down five dollars in Linda’s outstretched hand.
“Nice to do business with y’all.” Linda chuckled. As usual, Marianne did not bet. She only sighed softly. “Anyone for a biscuit?” And she bakes.
Three hands reached into Marianne’s procured basket and grabbed a honey biscuit. Though Rose tried to decline that bringing food wasn’t necessary, Marianne did anyway. ‘It gives her something to do’ the other three ladies told her. So with overwhelming emotions, Rose accepted. These four ladies were like the grandmothers she never had. Her grandparents from both sides were gone and her parents were too busy travelling around the world to worry over their only child, who was supposedly financially secured and married. She dreaded giving her parents her latest divorce blues.