In charms way, p.1
In Charm's Way, page 1
In Charm’s Way
A Paranormal Women’s Fiction Cozy Mystery
Season of the Witch
Book 2
Shéa MacLeod
In Charm’s Way
Season of the Witch Book Two
Text copyright © 2021 Shéa MacLeod
All rights reserved.
Printed in the United States of America.
Editing by Alin Silverwood
Cover Design by Mariah Sinclair (mariahsinclair.com)
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Also by Shéa MacLeod
Cupcake Goddess
Nothing Tastes As Good
Soulfully Sweet
A Stitch In Time (A Cupcake Goddess Novelette)
Deepwood Witches Mysteries
Poisons, Potions, and Peril
Wisteria, Witchery, and Woe
Magic, Moonlight, and Murder
Dreams, Divination, and Danger
Alchemy, Arsenic, and Alibis
Crystals, Cauldrons, and Crimes
Deepwood Witches Mysteries
Edwina Gale Paranormal Investigator
Day of the Were-Jackal
Intergalactic Investigations
Infinite Justice
A Rage of Angels
Lady Rample Mysteries
Lady Rample Steps Out
Lady Rample Spies A Clue
Lady Rample and the Silver Screen
Lady Rample Sits In
Lady Rample and the Ghost of Christmas Past
Lady Rample and Cupid's Kiss
Lady Rample and the Mysterious Mr. Singh
Lady Rample and the Haunted Manor
Lady Rample and the Parisian Affair
Lady Rample and the Yuletide Caper
Lady Rample and the Mystery at the Museum
Lady Rample and the Lady in the Lake
Lady Rample Box Set Collection One
Lady Rample Box Set Collection Two
Lady Rample Mysteries - German Edition
Lady Rample und der Mord im Jazzclub
Lady Rample und der Landhausspion
Lady Rample und der Geist der vergangenen Weihnacht
Season of the Witch
Lifestyles of the Witch and Ageless
In Charm's Way
Witchmas Spirits
Battle of the Hexes
If the Broom Fits
Sugar Martin Vintage Cozy Mystery
A Death in Devon
A Grave Gala
A Christmas Caper
A Riviera Rendezvous
Sunwalker Saga: Soulshifter Trilogy
Haunted
Soulshifter
Fearless
Viola Roberts Cozy Mysteries
The Corpse in the Cabana
The Stiff in the Study
The Poison in the Pudding
The Body in the Bathtub
The Venom in the Valentine
The Remains in the Rectory
The Death in the Drink
The Victim in the Vineyard
The Ghost in the Graveyard
The Larceny in the Luau
A Viola Roberts Cozy Mystery Collection Box Set One-Three
A Viola Roberts Cozy Mystery Collection Books 4-6
A Viola Roberts Cozy Mystery Collection: Books Seven - Nine
Write Novels Fast
Write Novels Fast: Writing Faster With Art Journaling
Write Novels Fast: Down and Dirty Draft
Standalone
Angel's Fall
A Historical Christmas Cozy Collection
The Complete Christmas Cozy Collection
Watch for more at Shéa MacLeod’s site.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
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
A Note from Shéa MacLeod
https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/o6t4l3
About Shéa MacLeod
Other Books by Shéa MacLeod
Dedication
For those who dream of magic.
A paranormal women’s fiction cozy mystery – because midlife can be a real witch!
It’s been less than a month since Juniper “JJ” Jones discovered (at the tender age of 46) that she was a witch and moved to the magical beach town of Miracle Bay. Now she’s running her grandmother’s bookstore with the aid of a tarot-reading fire witch and a snarky familiar who looks like a black cat but claims he isn’t (long story).
Everything is running smoothly (more or less) until her grandmother’s ghost pops in for a visit, claiming she was murdered. What’s more, she wants JJ to find the killer and bring them to justice. Sure. Because that went so well the last time.
With the help of her newfound friends, JJ sets out to uncover the secrets of Miracle Bay and the truth about her grandmother’s murder. Preferably without running afoul of the murderer herself!
A brand new paranormal women's fiction series from the bestselling author of Lady Rample Mysteries and Deepwood Witches Mysteries.
Get ready for some midlife magic!
Chapter 1
WHEN YOUR GRANDMOTHER’S ghost shows up in the middle of the night asking you to solve her murder, what’s a witch to do?
That was the question at hand. Unfortunately so far, I didn’t have an answer. I mean, sure... in Hallmark movies, the plucky heroine would immediately be on the case, questioning suspects, demanding answers. There’d be an incredibly hot detective (or something) who would help her out and a snarky best friend who would bake cookies (or something) and be a sounding board. The killer would be caught, the plucky heroine would share a kiss with the incredibly hot detective (or whatever). Everything would resolve itself perfectly.
Except this wasn’t a Hallmark movie, much as I loved them. This was real life, and the plucky heroine was me.
I eyed the coffeepot I’d recently bought.
The plucky heroine needed caffeine.
Problem was, the last time I owned a coffeepot, I’d blown it up. With magic.
Juniper Jones: witch.
Superpowers: blowing up coffeepots.
Other witches got to do cool things like see the future, read people’s destinies, bake magical cupcakes. Me? I blew things up, set them on fire, and occasionally turned people into frogs.
In my defense, the one time I did that, he totally deserved it. Unfortunately, I’d sort of left him that way. I hadn’t meant to. I’d been new to the whole witchy thing and, by the time I’d stopped freaking out, the frog had disappeared. I still felt guilty about that. Well, not that guilty. He’d dumped me on my forty-sixth birthday after cheating on me with a younger woman. So there’s that.
Speaking of forty-six, that was also the day I blew up the coffeepot, discovered I’d inherited a bookstore/house, and my life took a turn for the weird. Not long after, I also found out my inherited property was located in a magical town and yours truly was in truth an actual witch.
Fun times.
Back to Grandma, Agnes Jones. She was the one who left me the bookstore. She’d also popped into my bedroom in ghost form a week ago and ordered me to solve her murder. Which was kind of nuts because, according to literally everyone, she’d fallen asleep at the wheel and driven her car off a cliff. She was ninety-six, so I hadn’t had any reason to question that.
I girded my loins and grabbed the pot. Nothing blew up. With a sigh of relief, I poured myself a cup of magic bean water, added plenty of sweet cream creamer, and took a sip. Bliss.
If you’re done making love to that coffee mug, we need to talk.
I glanced down as what looked like a black cat strolled into my tiny kitchen under the eaves of the old Victorian. In actuality, Enki was my familiar (and only looked like a black cat thanks to me... though I still couldn’t figure out why it was my fault). He communicated telepathically and he sounded exactly like Alan Rickman right down to the British accent.
“What do we need to talk about?” I asked, eyeing him. He had a habit of commenting on things that were none of his business. Like my wardrobe. “There’s nothing wrong with my pajamas.” They were cute and had pink flamingos all over them.
We can discuss your lack of fashion sense later. Your grandmother. I know she visited you.
“How do you know?” It had been a week and I hadn’t told a soul. Not even my familiar. I mean, I was sort of getting used to the weirdness that was Miracle Bay—a magically hidden town on the Oregon Coast filled with supernatural denizens—but I still found it hard to admit to things l
Enki rolled his eyes. Please. I’m your familiar. I know things.
I took a sip of coffee. “Then why didn’t you mention it before?”
I was waiting for you to say something first. Except you really are the most stubborn person I’ve ever met.
I took that as a compliment despite his tone. “Fine. My grandmother showed up in my bedroom and told me to find her killer. Satisfied?”
Not even remotely. Why haven’t you done it?
“What exactly am I supposed to do?” I asked. “She drove her car over a cliff. Not much left to investigate.”
Clearly there is, or she wouldn’t have bothered interrupting her eternal rest, he said dryly.
“I don’t have time to go chasing ghosts,” I insisted. “Or whoever turned my grandmother into a ghost. I have important things to do.”
Like?
“Like run a business. Learn to be a witch. Figure out life in Miracle Bay.” I checked the clock. “And right now, I’ve got an errand to run.”
Run your little errand, he said. Just put some decent clothes on, and don’t come crying to me when it happens.
“When what happens?”
Only he’d already disappeared.
THE DOOR IN FRONT OF me swung open, and a plump blonde woman of about fifty-something stood glaring at me. She wore a bubblegum pink t-shirt with the word “goddess” spelled out in rhinestones stretched across her impressive bosom. “Well, are you just going to stand there gawking like a goldfish or come in?”
I blinked. I was standing on the sidewalk outside one of my favorite shops in Miracle Bay. I hadn’t even realized I’d arrived I was so deep in thought. But stopping by The Cupcake Goddess every day for a cupcake had become a routine I was loathe to give up. Fortunately, I lived next to the beach, so morning walks sort of helped balance things out.
“Hi, Branwen,” I said, stepping inside. Immediately I was hit with the scent of something baking. Something vanilla and cinnamon and... “Oh, my goddess, are you making cinnamon rolls?”
“Cinnamon roll cupcakes,” she corrected. “An experiment.” She eyed me. “I guess you can be my guinea pig.”
“Excellent! Bring it on.”
She disappeared into the kitchen. Branwen was the Welsh goddess of love and beauty and frankly didn’t have a lot of patience with mortals. For some reason she put up with me. More or less. Mostly. Kind of.
I took a seat at one of the white, marble-topped bistro tables. The chairs had pink-cushioned seats which matched the walls, the ceiling was gold, and the floor black and white stripes. A long display case showed off several dozen cupcakes mounded with colorful frosting. An upright display case held individual cupcakes inside recyclable plastic clamshells. A sign with elegant pink and gold font declared these offerings to be gluten free. Trust me, you do not want to feed a mermaid gluten.
Branwen reappeared, carrying a plate holding a cupcake smothered in white frosting. She thunked the plate down in front of me. “I suppose you want coffee.”
“If it’s not too much trouble.” A person could never have too much coffee. At least not this person.
She sighed and went to get me a cup. I ignored her. It was a little game we played.
The cupcake was marvelous. Vanilla cake with a ribbon of gooey cinnamon and topped with a thick layer of cream cheese frosting. “These are amazing,” I said around a mouthful as she returned, carrying a steaming pink mug.
“Of course they are. They’re going to be this month’s special.” She set the mug down much more gently than she had the cupcakes.
“Cinnamon is great for attracting abundance,” I said, parroting my latest witch lesson.
“If you say so.” She eyed me. “Now why are you really here?”
“To eat your cupcakes, of course.”
She snorted as she returned to her place behind the counter. “Don’t be thick. You’ve got something on your mind. What is it?”
I had no idea how she knew, but then she was a goddess after all. I set down the uneaten half of my cupcake. “Last week I was visited by the ghost of my dead grandmother.”
“Agnes? What’s she up to?” Branwen asked, wiping down the counter.
I blinked. “You don’t seem surprised.”
“That Agnes showed up? Or that you’re the one she showed herself to?”
“Either.” I picked up my cupcake again.
She shrugged. “I’m not. You’re a witch after all. And while not every witch can see ghosts, it’s not that unusual. Plus, you’re her granddaughter. Stands to reason she’d want to visit, I suppose.”
“She didn’t.”
“Didn’t what?”
“Want to visit.” I popped the last bite of cupcake into my mouth. It was glorious.
“Then why’d she show up?” Branwen asked.
I took a deep breath. “She said she wanted me to find her killer.”
Branwen stared at me a little too long. “That’s a new one.”
“I thought her death was an accident.”
She tossed the cleaning rag into the sink. “It was. Or at least that’s what we all thought. Fell asleep at the wheel, drove off a cliff. Happens all the time.”
Well, it didn’t happen all the time, but it happened often enough. “I don’t know what to do about it,” I admitted. “I’ve got nothing to go on. Nobody to ask. I mean, I can’t just blunder around town asking people about Agnes. Can I?”
“Good way to get yourself killed. If there is an actual murderer, that is.”
“Exactly!”
“You said she visited a week ago?”
“Yeah. Popped into my bedroom in the middle of the night. Nearly gave me a heart attack.”
She frowned. “And you haven’t done anything to try and find this killer?”
I shrugged. “I’ve sort of been hoping I imagined the whole thing.”
“You’re a witch, JJ. You didn’t imagine it.”
I rubbed my forehead. “I was afraid of that. I just don’t know what to do.”
“I suggest you do what your grandmother asked you to.” There was a warning note in her tone. “In fact, it’s probably already too late.”
Her warning echoed Enki’s earlier sentiment. I stared at her a moment. “What do you mean by that?”
She smiled grimly. “All I’m saying is you don’t want a ghost haunting you from now until eternity. Trust me.”
I WAS HALFWAY BACK to the bookstore when I ran into none other than Conrí Byrne. Con, as most people called him.
The man was an enigma. All I knew about him was that he “consulted” for the police and tended to show up whenever there were dead bodies around—I may have glanced around surreptitiously just to make sure there weren’t any corpses lying around. He also gave me the shivers. But in a good way.
As usual, his eyes were obscured by sunglasses, and his face was an inscrutable mask. His dark hair was a mass of waves with just a touch of silver at the temples, and his shoulders were wider than any person’s ought to be. He wore a perfectly tailored dark suit that was both insanely attractive and oddly out of place in this beachy town.
“Hi,” I blurted, then my cheeks and ears turned hot. Curse my pale skin. Never could hide a blush.
“Ms. Jones.” He nodded. “You’re looking...well.”
I wasn’t sure if that was sarcasm or not. I’d at least swapped out my flamingo pajamas for a pair of black yoga pants and an oversized unicorn t-shirt. Though it wasn’t exactly what I wanted to be wearing when I ran into the hottest guy I’d seen outside a Marvel movie. I hadn’t even bothered to put on makeup.
“Um, thanks?”
He cleared his throat. “How are you doing with the bookstore? It must be a challenge, taking over someone else’s business.”
I shrugged. “Fortunately, Agnes was a decent record keeper and I’m good at organizing things. I am—was—a librarian.”
“You must have gotten your love of books from her.”
“I guess so.” I sure as heck hadn’t gotten it from my mother. She never read anything but online dating profiles. As for my father, he’d always been too busy to read anything but the newspaper. “I’m glad to be working with books again. Tomorrow is the big reopening, so fingers crossed.” I held mine up.
