Page 73 of Spring L.A.W.
Wonder B*tch (Beltane)
Joell is holding the League of Amazing Witches together with caffeine, sarcasm, and sheer force of will. With their High Priestess abroad and the mansion on magical lockdown forthatweek of female inconvenience, she’s got seven volatile witches, one dirty cop, and zero patience for drama. PMS time is supposed to be their week off, but male models have been kidnapped from a romance convention! Since all the witches write steamy romance novels, this one’s personal.
Her only real comfort? Crowe—her sleek, black cat familiar who’s been with her through every spell, secret, and sleepless night. But when a betrayal shatters their defenses, Crowe does the one thing she never expected: he shifts into human form to protect her. He’s allowed one shift. One chance. No going back.
Now Joell’s facing a new problem. Her loyal companion is suddenly a dangerously attractive man who rememberseverything. Including what it felt like to be loved by her, even if he never returned the sentiment out loud.
As magic collides with law enforcement, hidden motives surface and the mystery deepens, forcing Joell to balance leadership, attraction, and a ticking clock before the missing models disappear for good.
19
Wonder B*tch (Beltane)
Joell stood by the lounge window with her phone pressed to her ear and a towel wrapped loosely around her damp body.
“I know why you’re calling, Bossy McBwana-Face. It’s that time, but I don’t see why we have to move the mansion to Bum-fuck Tennessee. We’ve talked it over and would like to stay on Long Island now that the weather?—.”
On a couch across the room, Crowe lifted his head.
As Joell’s familiar, the black cat possessed excellent hearing. Paranormal hearing, actually. Which meant he could eavesdrop on both sides of the conversation without much effort.
“It’s bad enough everyone calls it Bum-Fuck instead of Mount Funk,” Chad said through the phone, irritation clear in his voice. “And you know I don’t like being called Bossy. Why don’t you try using my name, Chad, or my title, Liaison… and with a little respect?”
Joell tried to answer.
“Because,” She stifled a laugh, “it reminds me you think you’re in charge,” she giggled, “and I can’t say it without laughing—HAHAHAHAHAHA!” *snort*
“Do you know how mature you sound?”
“Yeah,” Joell said cheerfully. “But the real question is, do I care?”
The earth began to shake.
Joell froze.
“No! You haven’t even heard me out. We don’t want to move. We like the mansion right where it is on Long Island. We lock up our weapons in Brooklyn anyway and?—”
The mansion tore loose from reality with a violentriiiip.
A thunderous thud followed.
Joell ran to the window.
“Crap.”
Crowe leapt up beside her and stared out at the view. The manicured Long Island grounds were gone. Instead, towering trees stretched in every direction. Thick trunks. Twisted branches. Dense forest.
Oh, fantastic. Trees. Not the polite, trimmed Long Island variety either. These are gnarly Appalachian horror-movie trees.
Which meant only one thing. The mansion had moved. Again.
Joell rubbed her face. “Tell me we didn’t just land in Tennessee.”
Crowe’s tail flicked.
Welcome back to Mount Funk.
Joell sighed into the phone. “Look, I know you think this is necessary, but we were doing fine where we were.”
