The Goode Witch Matchmaker: Four Sweet Paranormal Romances (The Goode Witch Matchmaker Collection Book 1)

by Cate Lawley

  Hillary waffled on her opinion of Glenda. She finally got why Beth was so forgiving of the busybody witch’s antics. And all it had taken was her rescue of the guy Hillary was falling for. Too bad he was recently bereaved…sort of. And definitely busy with larger concerns. She ducked her head underwater, letting the muffled water sounds wash over her. The faint sound of her cell ringer penetrated the water, but she ignored it. When she surfaced, bubbles clinging to her ears and nose, the ringing had stopped. Whoever it was, whatever it was, it could wait.

  After snoozing for a few minutes in the tub and waking to cool water, Hillary climbed out and made short work of prepping for bed.

  Only when she woke ten hours later did she see the voicemail message from her Aunt Carol. Fully recharged from an excellent night’s rest and a practically perky message from her aunt enthusiastically endorsing her and Gramps’ plan: her day was already overflowing with good vibes. About time. She was due some after the last few days. Then reality reared its head. A perky Aunt Carol? It was enough to boggle the mind. She groaned and picked up the phone.

  She’d phoned to give Gramps a heads-up she was coming over. He hadn’t answered, but she got a text a few minutes later. Come on in. Don’t knock, please. Brad

  Great. She’d be breaking news to two seriously hung-over men. Fun times.

  She parked in Gramps’ drive and slammed her car door. Served them right. She let herself in and managed not to slam the door, but the urge was strong. “Hey guys. It’s me.”

  She followed her nose to the kitchen where the smell of cooking bacon made her mouth water.

  “Hey Gramps.” She gave him a one-armed hug as he flipped the cooking bacon. “Where’s Brad?”

  “He ran out for a minute.”

  “Sorry—in your car?” Hillary took Gramps’ sheepish look as affirmation. She shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re letting a guy who hasn’t driven in seven years cruise around town in your car. Maybe we should commit your crazy old-man butt.”

  “Watch it, peanut. I won’t let you have any bacon if you keep that up.”

  “Ouch. That is cruel.” Hillary snapped off a piece of one of the cooked slices cooling on a plate next to the stove. “That’s seriously cruel.”

  “You’re in a good humor this morning.”

  “I got some decent sleep last night. And I have some good news.”

  Brad walked in from the front of the house holding a pot of lavender. “Good news? I’m just in time.” He handed the pot to her, looking a little uncomfortable. “This is for you.”

  She never got flowers from anyone except her parents. And she loved lavender. She could feel herself blushing—which was just silly. “Thank you. I love lavender.”

  “He knows.” Gramps had moved from bacon to frying eggs.

  “Thanks, Walter. If you could not mention things that make me seem like a creepy stalker guy, that would be helpful.” He turned to Hillary. “It’s not much, given everything you’ve done for me. I’m pretty sure that when you mentioned my mom, you saved my bacon.” He gave her a crooked smile. “But since I’m temporarily without a driver’s license, a car, a place to live—”

  “Hey, now. You’ve got a place here as long as you need it.” Gramps used his best stern yet earnest voice. It was a hard voice to argue with. “That was true before, and it’s still true.”

  “I didn’t have to eat before—but the sentiment is much appreciated, Walter.”

  Hillary set the pot down on the counter but not before she took a second to smell the fragrant flowers. The familiar smell made her smile. “About your living situation, Gramps. I missed a call from Aunt Carol, and I got this bizarro chipper message from her agreeing to our plan.”

  “Bizarro?” Brad asked.

  “Carol isn’t a chipper person by nature,” Gramps clarified. He started to plate the eggs. “Go on. What had her all excited?”

  “Well, she’ll probably swing by later today to talk to you, but she and her husband have been planning a move out of state. She’s been worried about leaving Texas with you in the house by yourself and still telling Brad stories. And if she’s concerned—”

  “Tim’s concerned.” Gramps nodded his head. He may think well of his children, but he wasn’t totally blind.

  “You got it,” she said.

  “Let me guess. You told her you’d be moving in when your lease expires, and she thought she’d won the lottery?” Gramps shook his head. Bacon and eggs delivered, he said, “Go on, eat while it’s hot.”

  “Oh, more than that.” She spoke in between mouthfuls of bacon. “She offered to buy out my lease so I could move in with you before she and her husband move away. Which is excellent news, because I’d rather not have to foot that bill. I need all my pennies to start updates on the house.” Hillary couldn’t help the self-satisfied smile that thought produced.

  Gramps cringed. “It’s nice the way it is.”

  Hillary and Brad both said, “No.” Then laughed.

  When they’d gotten their laughter under control, Gramps did his best not to look offended by their disdain of his 1970s décor and said, “And Tim’s fine with all of this because Carol is, right?”

  “Of course. You know Carol has been the one pushing for a resolution. Everyone’s thrilled. Problem solved.”

  “And lady shrink visit is cancelled.” Gramps looked so relieved, she hated to burst his bubble.

  “No,” Hillary mumbled around a mouth of egg. “She still thinks you’re crazypants. But on the bright side, she might cancel the appointment after she meets Brad this afternoon. Or you can just refuse to go, because she doesn’t have leverage now.”

  Brad sat down at the kitchen table. “Whoa. Meet Aunt Carol? Is that a good idea? I mean, what do I tell her? I can’t even show the woman my ID.”

  The doorbell rang, and Brad’s complexion turned several shades lighter. “That’s her, isn’t it?”

  “No chance,” Hillary said as she stood up. “Finish your breakfast Gramps.” As she walked out of the room, Hillary heard Gramps trying to explain Carol’s fascination with time and schedules and the unlikelihood of her showing up early.

  When she got to the door, no one was there. But as she opened it to have a better look, a large envelope that had been propped against the door fell across the threshold of the house. Brad’s name was handwritten in large letters across it.

  When she got back to the kitchen, Gramps had disappeared and it was just Brad. She handed the envelope. “Definitely Glenda. No one else could possibly know you’re here.”

  Once opened, it was startlingly clear the package was from Glenda. Who else but she would have the resources to create proof of a fictional life over a seven-year period? The mysterious package resolved some of the issues Brad would be facing over the next few weeks. Inside were medical documents evidencing the diagnosis of and a course of treatment for amnesia. It wouldn’t answer every question, and it certainly made Brad’s pending reunion with his mother no less heart-wrenching, but it helped fill in some gaps. And the medical records provided more of an answer than: by the way, magic is real, and nasty curses are, too.

  In addition to the medical records, the package had yielded various forms of identification. A sticky note on his driver’s license held the following message: “Amnesia cured 2016. Tech glitch, previous prints lost.”

  That might explain how he’d stayed a John Doe and off the grid for so long—but questions bounced through her head. “How will any of this hold up under scrutiny?”

  “I’m guessing pretty well with the aid of some witch-powered magic.” Brad stood next to her, examining the documents and then handing each one to her after he’d scanned it.

  “I suppose so.” But she hardly sounded convinced. “It’s worked so far for Edward, and all of his documentation came from Glenda.” She moved closer to read a medical document in his hand but he set it down.

  His eyes met with hers as he tipped up her chin. Slowly, without breaking eye-contact
, he lowered his head. That’s when she realized she was about to be kissed. It took her that long. Then she closed her eyes, all the better to savor the press of his lips on hers, the mingling of warm breaths, the nip of teeth on her bottom lip, the taste of him.

  Several minutes later, Brad said, “Hillary.”

  Her arms were wrapped around his neck. That and a firm hand on her waist held her upright. She couldn’t remember when her knees had stopped functioning, only knew they had.

  Brad leaned away from her, and she opened her eyes. “I’m completely broke, have no job, and no idea how I’m going to fit back into the normal world.”

  She’d just been kissed senseless, so she was having a hard time following his train of thought. “Um, sorry?” And she was, but now seemed an odd time for him to mention those things.

  He leaned down, so close to her ear that his breath tickled a shiver out of her as he quietly spoke. “So given the sad state of my affairs, any chance for a date?”

  Now she got it. She tried not to giggle when she thought of some of the aimless guys she’d dated in the past. While she’d found them exciting and wonderful at the time, and she was sure they were someone’s Mr. Right, they hadn’t been hers. There was simply no comparison between those men and Brad. He wasn’t aimless—anything but. He’d kept an amazing attitude through seven years of inhuman conditions, all the while acting as a loyal and trustworthy friend to one of the people she loved best in this world. Reintegration into everyday life would be challenging, she was sure. But she’d be there to help, and she had complete faith in him. “Um, yeah. I think I can manage that.” She didn’t even try to hide her ridiculously wide smile.

  Epilogue

  Glenda crossed her legs, uncrossed them, then crossed them again. She tapped a manicured nail on the countertop. Sending the mirror covert glances, she kept tapping. Finally, the mirror shimmered.

  “The Council has heard Adele’s testimony—and her apology.” Bedivere’s deep voice betrayed no emotion.

  “Did they believe her? What was the sentence?”

  “Her apology was most…heartfelt. Twenty years probation, but only because the killing curse failed. I suspect her probationary period was greatly reduced as a direct result of her voluntary surrender to the Council. A surprising turn of events.”

  Glenda felt the tension ease from her body. “Yes, very accommodating of her to save the Council the trouble of tracking her down.”

  “Not that she had any help making that decision.” His words barely moved the mirror’s surface.

  Glenda bit her lip. “No, not at all. She must have had a true change of heart.”

  A sigh shimmered across the mirror. “Glenda.”

  Some of the tension returned to her shoulders. Interfering with the Council could have unpleasant consequences, and Glenda had never ruffled the feathers of that great body. Several members were rather fond of Glenda, but their influence was not absolute.

  Finally, Bedivere spoke. “This plan you cobbled together, it had more moving pieces than you disclosed. You implied a spell, a potion—my potion—and some predictive math. But, in fact, it was much more complicated.”

  “Yes,” Glenda said. Agreement and minimal explanation seemed a wise choice.

  “If the Sherwood boy had been less…, well, if he’d simply been less, the plan would have fallen completely apart. And if the girl hadn’t cared for the boy…”

  “But Sherwood was a good man, and he’s still a good man. Seven years didn’t change that fact.” Glenda had schemed, manipulated circumstances, and twisted the curse to make sure of it. “And the girl was always a good match for him. I—we—simply altered circumstances to allow that match to happen.”

  “I assume there was either no loophole in the curse, or you were unable to generate the triggering circumstances. But engineering Adele’s dissolution of the curse? Daring at the very least. It seems that much was left to chance in this grand plan of yours.”

  “Not nearly so much as you might think. It relied upon the math, my dear Bedivere.”

  “Hm. Predictive math does have its uses.” The mirror started to lose its shine, a sign the call was ending, but then the magic within flared to life again. “And Glenda? You obviously had your eye on the Sherwood boy and, correspondingly, Hillary for some time. Some great time. Hence your familiarity with Beth and the resulting match with Edward. An important circumstance you concealed from me. Don’t hide such facts from me in future.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, then pulled the magic away from the mirror, ending the call from her end for a change.

  Glenda was feeling cheeky. She’d saved two lives and made an excellent match. It was a good day.

  THE END

  Deathly Love

  A Sweet Paranormal Romance

  Chapter 1

  “She’s crazy hot. Why wouldn’t I want to go out with her?” The guy speaking had fair hair, an athletic build, and even features.

  A little generic and a little drunk if the stage whisper was any kind of clue, but cute. Zelda knew, because she’d scoped him out before choosing a nearby seat. Probably an alchemist, with all of their ego and arrogance. But she knew at least two cool alchemists—her best friend Kitty and her honorary uncle—so she was willing to overlook it for now.

  His friend, barely distinguishable in appearance, leaned close and murmured something unintelligible in his buddy’s ear.

  The alchemist’s face paled. “Oh.”

  That was all, just “oh.” Zelda should be used to it by now, she really should. She ducked her head and tried not to cry into her cocktail. Did everyone know?

  “What are you drinking?” A deeply melodic voice to her right asked.

  Zelda perked up. Turning in the direction of her possible salvation, she plastered on a practiced, flirty smile and said, “The Last Word. It’s a gin cocktail.” She was about to move on to stage two and flip her hair flirtatiously, when she got an eyeful of Mr. Deeply Melodic. Thin, tall, freckles, glasses, gingery red hair. So-so on Zelda’s rating scale—oh, and a normal. Her fickle mood swung back to its previous depths. No magic meant off limits. That was one of her rules. Although, really, there weren’t many of her original dating rules left. She was down to alive, a member of the magical community, not old enough to be her dad, and reasonably attractive. She swallowed a mouthful of her drink. Her standards really had fallen. Her list of must-haves had changed over time to become a scant listing of minimum-requirements and exclusions. She drained her drink.

  At least she could spot the normals. That was one of the few perks to being the Grim Reaper’s kid. She could see the world exactly as it was—magic, spells, potions, and all. Even magical folk couldn’t necessarily see what she could. The one teeny, tiny, almost worthless perk didn’t come close to balancing out the scales. Granted, it could be worse: she wasn’t the devil’s daughter. But, really, she wondered if most people made the distinction.

  She sighed, about to tell this lost little normal soul “thanks but no thanks,” and maybe “run away, before the magical bar regulars chew you up”—but he was already backing away.

  “I’m sorry to bother you.” He gave her a surprisingly attractive parting grin and said, “Excellent drink choice, though.”

  And he was gone.

  Well, shoot. She didn’t even get to savor her two seconds of false victory. She sighed wistfully. If only normals were in her dating pool. But that wouldn’t be fair. She couldn’t ask someone living out in the real world to step into fantasy-land, only to be terrified to within an inch of his life by her father. Then there was all of the explaining: alchemists, seers, wizards. Not that they called themselves that, but that’s what made sense in her head. No. That was so many shades of wrong that she wouldn’t do it even to break her eighteen-month-long dateless streak.

  She rolled her eyes, hating that she couldn’t lie to herself. Eighteen months…if drinking coffee and chatting with a guy while they’d both waited for her favor
ite bookstore to open counted as a date. It had been a very pleasant conversation.

  She tried to think back to her last real date, but every opportunity that came to mind had fallen apart before she’d even made it to the goodnight kiss. She tried to hide her dark secret, but she failed every time. Every one of them found out that the skeleton in her closet carried a scythe. She sighed, leaning on the bar and displaying as much cleavage as she reasonably could while jiggling her empty glass. Where was that bartender? The magic community was tiny. She couldn’t blink at a guy without whispered warnings following. She’d obviously finished her drink and if she leaned any further, she’d fall out of her dress. No tip for this guy.

  It took the bartender another two minutes to make his way over to her, but when he did he brought a drink ready-made. He deposited the familiar-looking drink in front of her and said, “The guy from earlier said to tell you he was sorry you were having a bad day.”

  Guy from earlier? She took a drink, trying to remember which guy that could be. The one who’d just ditched her? That was weird. She should probably be worried her drink was poisoned. She gave it a good look, squinted, changed angles. Nope, looked good. Good thing, since she had drunk first and asked questions later. She took another drink. Tasted great, too. She may have all these little cheater tricks to spot magical attacks—being able to see potions, spells, poisons—but no one had actually dared to strike against her father through her. That was why she had the fun bag of tricks: to protect against magical attacks. Without them, she was as normal as all the other normals wandering around in the world. But either no one held enough of a grudge against her dad to try to hurt her, or they were all too scared of him. Whatever. He was a teddy bear. Mostly. Minus the scythe that ripped a person’s soul from their body.