It happened one midnight, p.1
It Happened One Midnight, page 1
Books by Saranna DeWylde
It Happened One Midnight
Men Are Frogs
Fairy Godmothers, Inc.
The 10 Days Series
How to Lose a Demon in 10 Days
How to Marry an Angel in 10 Days
How to Seduce a Warlock in 10 Days
IT HAPPENED ONE MIDNIGHT
Saranna DeWylde
ZEBRA BOOKS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
PROLOGUE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2022 by Sara Lunsford
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-1-4201-5316-3
ISBN: 978-1-4201-5319-4 (ebook)
Dedicated to BabyBat2
Your sweet potato curry kept me fortified long into the
night with my fingers dancing on the keys. This book
wouldn’t be here without you. There are a lot of books that
couldn’t have been born without you. I love you more than
words can ever express.
I would be remiss if I didn’t add my thanks to Ms. Gibson. I
still think of you every time I type “really.”
PROLOGUE
Petunia Blossom had almost reached Peak Fairy Godmother.
She and her sisters, Bluebonnet and Jonquil, were so close to the pinnacle of greatness.
In the last year, they’d recruited a new fairy godmother in training for the academy, they’d helped break a curse (Petty chose to ignore the fact the curse was her fault to start with; she was counting it as a win), and they were working their magic right under the noses of mortals.
Further, they’d managed to not only save their sweet little town of Ever After, filling up all the stores of magic with love, but they were exporting it to the fairy realm and to the rest of the world.
Petunia was quite pleased.
The only thing missing was their granddaughter Juniper’s Happily Ever After.
She sighed over her morning tea and toast in their cottage kitchen.
Jonquil stopped what she was doing with the black lace and blood-red hydrangeas she’d been fiddling with, attempting to create a bouquet that would suit the Dracula-themed wedding. Nothing seemed to be quite right.
“I recognize that sigh, dearest. Tell us what kind of plot you’re hatching?” Jonquil encouraged.
“Me?” Petty feigned innocence.
Bluebonnet snorted. “Obviously, you. Shall I start some ice cream sodas?”
Petunia grinned. “Yes. I think you should.”
“As long as it’s not Gwen and Roderick again. You know they asked us to leave them alone,” Jonquil warned.
Petty waved her off. “No. Fie on them at the moment, anyway. How dare they resist our good intentions?” She laughed. “I do understand, and I’m giving them their space. I’d be upset if someone continued to try to push me to someone I wasn’t ready for.”
Bluebonnet dropped the glasses she held, and they shattered on the ground. “Did you just say you were wrong?”
“Let’s not get hysterical,” Petty said. “Of course not. I wasn’t wrong. We planted the seeds. They just have to take root and are slumbering through the long winter. Just wait. They will work out on their own.”
Bluebonnet used her wand to clean up the mess and reconstitute the glasses. “Mm-hm.” She fixed Petty with a sharp glance. “Your stance wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that Ransom and Lucky are taking them along to Brazil, does it?”
Petty looked around, her eyes wide. “Whatever would I do in Brazil?”
“Aha! Caught you. I didn’t accuse you of going to Brazil.” Bluebonnet crossed her arms over her chest.
Jonquil nodded sagely. “She’s got you there.”
Petty rolled her eyes. “No, she doesn’t. I would assume that to meddle with them in Brazil, I would need to be present in Brazil.”
“Oh, please. You’re a fairy godmother. You can meddle from anywhere.”
Petunia shrugged. “Whatcha gonna do?”
“Not bother those kids. Until it’s time,” Jonquil said. “That’s what you’re going to do.”
“I’m not. But sometimes things happen. Call it fate,” Petunia said.
“I’ll call it Petunia,” Jonquil said with a snort.
“I swear, I’m not going to do anything. I promised. But, if, say, their accommodations might have accidentally overbooked, and they have to share a room . . . a very small room on a very hot night . . .”
“We all know that’s your favorite trope.” Bluebonnet began making the ice cream sodas to fortify them with the sugar they needed to plot Happily Ever Afters.
“It works! But actually, I really promise I haven’t done anything. But a godmother can hope.” She grinned. “No, it’s time to switch hats.”
“But, I’ve not gotten a new hat in so long.” Jonquil patted her hair.
“Not like that, dear. We need to work on a project closer to home. Not a godmother hat, but a grandmother hat,” Petunia explained.
“I’m still not following. What’s wrong with godmother hats? I mean, we could get some pointy cones of wisdom to wear for the Dracula wedding, but I think they wanted to go with the obsidian and ruby tiaras for the bridesmaids. Plus, we don’t want to offend any witch guests in attendance,” Jonquil said.
“Sister. Darling. Light of my Happily Ever After,” Bluebonnet began. “She means Juniper.”
“Oh!” Jonquil pressed her palm to her forehead. “I swear, it’s like the sprites have run off with the last two brain cells I had to rub together.”
“You need sugar. You’ll feel better in a moment,” Bluebonnet promised.
“Speaking of that, we should definitely take a vacation in November. We deserve it. I was just thinking this morning that we have accomplished so much. We haven’t ventured out of Ever After for anything but work in a long time. Now that we have magic to spare, we should go to Jamaica or something.”
“Oh, I agree. We can use our portal passes, so we’ll still have time for the Christmas weddings,” Bluebonnet said.
“I need you to know, sisters, that I absolutely cannot be assed to put on my youthful body. I am quite comfortable in this one, and I will be on the beach as I am,” Jonquil stated.
“Thank the powers, me too.” Bluebonnet brought them their ice cream sodas. Today, they were butterscotch with chocolate chips.
“As if. I want to rest, not be bothered by some man in a Speedo.”
They all paused, obviously considering.
“I mean, maybe. It’s been a long time. My clock tower has bats in it,” Petunia confessed. “Bats. I mean, they’re very nice but . . .”
“Girl, you and me both,” Bluebonnet said.
“Spiders and webs, I say.” Jonquil nodded. “I was torn, for a moment, between thinking I needed to get out there, so I know what our charges are dealing with and deciding that this is not going to be a working vacation.”
“Too right. How about this. We should go to Miami, spend a weekend in our younger bodies, then go to Key West with other old folks. Maybe do some diving, swim with the turtles. Read some Dee J. Holmes and Jasmine Silvera. Drink things out of coconuts,” Petunia offered.
“I like this plan. Can we stop on the gulf side of Florida, too? I want to go to Captiva,” Bluebonnet said.
Jonquil snorted long and deep. She sounded like a truffling pig. “You just want to go to Captiva to get some of that ghost pirate booty. That’s what you’re about.”
The three of them stopped, sighed, and were all obviously considering the merits of ghost pirate “booty.”
“Oh, hell yes, I do.” Bluebonnet leaned her cheek into the bowl of her hand. “I don’t know about you two, but Captain Drake Gregoria
Petunia thought about calling her one-time friend Jack Frost, but then dismissed it entirely. What would he do in Florida besides be miserable? Anyway, this wasn’t about them. It was about Juniper.
Petty cleared her throat. “Sisters. Back to the task at hand.”
“Which is?” Jonquil prompted.
“Um . . . where was I?” Petty asked.
“Hats,” Bluebonnet said.
“Oh! Right. Hats. Not godmother hats, but grandmother hats. Juniper, of course!”
“She’s coming to visit, isn’t she?” Bluebonnet asked.
“Yes, I was going to suggest we call her, because I have a plan,” Petty said.
“You always have a plan,” Jonquil replied.
“Well, yes. Do you remember when we used to go visit April and Juniper? The little boy next door who would come over and play?” Petty asked.
“Little Tomas! He was adorable.” Bluebonnet waved her wand, and an image of Tomas shimmered in the air. “He’s not so little anymore. Why, he’s a man.” Bluebonnet sounded as if the fact were a scandal instead of a natural progression. Little boys grew into men. It was just how things worked.
“Neither is our Juniper. She’s a woman grown, and it’s time to give her a story like the ones she writes about. Tomas has always been her one. I can see the threads. Only, they’ve been running parallel for so long, they need a . . . shall we call it, inciting event to knock them together. Then, when they untangle, they’ll discover their threads entwined not in a tangle but a forever plait.”
“That’s very poetic, Petunia. Juniper must get her writing skills from you,” Jonquil said.
“She gets your pragmatism,” Petty said. “And Bluebonnet’s sweetness.”
“Wait, how is she our granddaughter again?” Jonquil asked. “I’m sorry, I forget these things.”
“There are three of us, so I understand why you’re confused,” Bluebonnet said. “And it was so very long ago. Do you remember that time in the Cotswolds when we foiled Rumpled Butt Skin?”
“That guy! I hate that guy,” Jonquil moaned. “I’d blocked it all out.”
“I remember it fondly. Because I hate that guy. And I’ll never say his actual name out loud. Ever.” Petty crossed her arms over her chest. “Anyway, that baby he tried to take, we protected her when we gave her some of our essences, essentially claiming her for fairy. So anyway, Juniper is a descendent of that baby.”
“Don’t tell her I forgot,” Jonquil whispered. “I feel terrible.”
“Circumstances being what they are, it’s totally acceptable. It’s not like you said you didn’t love her, or wouldn’t help her. You’d just managed the impossible and scrubbed Rumpled Foreskin from your mind. I wish I could. I admire your resourcefulness,” Petty commended.
“I shall forever call him Rumpled Foreskin. That’s my favorite yet,” Bluebonnet mused.
“So. Juniper?” Petty prompted.
“Yes, yes.” Bluebonnet waved her wand, and the hologram of Tomas disappeared. “Your plan?”
“Well, you know how she hates it when we matchmake, but . . . do you remember when she and Tomas were little, they decided if they weren’t married by thirty, or some ridiculous number . . . thirty-four, yes, that’s it. If they weren’t married, they were going to marry each other?”
“You’re not going to expect her to keep that promise, are you?” Jonquil asked.
“Not exactly, but I think we can use it to our benefit. We’ll get her to bring him with her, and then we’ll work our magic!” Petty grinned and took a gulp of her ice cream soda. “And nature will work hers.”
Jonquil gasped. “I can’t believe I forgot this!”
“What now?” Bluebonnet asked.
“The Dracula bride! Betina! She told me she was reading Juniper’s Dark Underworld series when she met Jackson. When I told her that she was our granddaughter, she asked if she could get signed copies of Phoenix for her bridesmaids’ gifts.”
Petunia grinned. The fates had clearly spoken. “This gives us the excuse we need to call her.”
“Quite, quite,” Bluebonnet said, and downed the rest of the butterscotch soda.
Petty pulled out her cell phone and dialed Juniper’s number. When she answered, she put the phone on speaker so that Jonquil and Bluebonnet could hear her.
“Sweet pea! You’re on speaker!” Petty said.
“Hello, Grandmothers.” Juniper’s voice was cheery. “Hold on a minute, will you?” In the background, she whispered, “No, no. Not that one. Oh my God, what is that? No. Why is it yellow? Stop playing. I’m about to get hangry.” Back into the phone, she said, “Sorry, I’m helping Tomas pick out a suit for his firm’s fundraiser, and he promised me lunch. What are you troublemakers doing today?”
“We won’t keep you long, dear. We just wanted to double-check you’re still going to be able to make it for the Samhain celebration and the fireflies?” Petunia asked.
“And to ask a tiny favor,” Jonquil interjected.
“A favor? Of course! Anything!”
“Anything?” Bluebonnet questioned.
“Anything except let you fix me up. That’s not the favor, is it?” Juniper grumbled.
“No, no. The bride in one of the weddings we’re planning has asked if she could get signed copies of Phoenix for her bridesmaids’ gifts,” Jonquil said.
“Oh my God. Seriously? This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Of course. This just made my year,” Juniper cried.
“Betina’s wedding will be on Samhain, so if you’re here . . . ,” Petty prompted.
“Of course I’ll be there, and bring books. I wonder if she’ll let me post this on social media? This is too cool,” Juniper said.
“So, how is Tomas?” Petty ventured.
“He’s doing very well. And no, before you ask, he’s not seeing anyone. Nor does he want to see anyone,” Juniper said.
“Of course he’s not seeing anyone. Otherwise, how is he going to marry you?” Petty said.
“Oh stop, Gramma Petty.”
“Do you two still have that deal? About getting married?” Bluebonnet asked, being helpful since Juniper told Petty to stop.
“Of course,” Juniper said, obviously teasing. “But that’s just when we get old.”
“Thirty-four isn’t old. I think that’s a good age,” Jonquil offered.
“You should bring him to Ever After. We need to start planning. You’re going to be thirty-four next year, and we want to make sure you have the kind of wedding you want.”
“Gramma Bon-Bon—”
“You are taken, right? I mean, if you weren’t”—Jonquil looked around the room at her sisters before continuing—“we’d just have to try to set you up with someone wonderful. You need inspiration to write your books.”
“I have plenty of inspiration. And if you could never say that again, that would be wonderful. Do you know how many men have tried that line on me?” She groaned. “They find out what I do and then get all smarmy and actually the opposite of every romance novel hero ever and say, ‘I uh, could offer you some inspiration for those dirty scenes.’ As if the whole point of the book is just the sex and not the part where love conquers all. Fucking savages.”
Petunia nodded in understanding even though Juniper couldn’t see the action of support. “And they are obviously undeserving of you, your talents, your heart, or your bed.”
“Gramma Petty! Don’t talk about my bed,” Juniper cried.
“Well, why not? It’s a normal, natural, beautiful thing and—”
“Oh God, that’s worse. Just stop. Please. I’ll do anything.”
“Even bring your fi—Tomas?”
“He is not my fiancé,” she said.
“Oh, definitely bring your fiancé, we’d love to see him,” Bluebonnet chirped.
“Tomas and Juniper, finally sitting in a tree . . .” Jonquil sing-songed obnoxiously.
“Tomas is my best friend,” Juniper tried to argue.
“Of course he is, lovie. It’s really the thing when you marry your best friend. It’s the sleepover that never stops!” Bluebonnet said.
