Don't Mess With Hexes (Moonglow Hollow Mysteries Book 1)(Paranormal Women's Midlife Fiction)

Don't Mess With Hexes Moonglow Hollow Mysteries #1 Maddie Smith Miller Laurealinde Publishing LLC Copyright © 2023 by Maddie Smith Miller All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. Contents Don't Mess With Hexes 1. Chapter 1 2. Chapter 2 3. Chapter 3 4. Chapter 4 5. Chapter 5 6. Chapter 6 7. Chapter 7 8. Chapter 8 9. Chapter 9 10. Chapter 10 11. Chapter 11 12. Chapter 12 13. Chapter 13 14. Chapter 14 15. Chapter 15 16. Chatper 16 17. Chapter 17 18. Chapter 18 19. Chapter 19 20. Chapter 20 21. Chapter 21 About Author Welcome to Moonglow Hollow, where magic and mystery go hand in hand… When Trixie Meadows left the magical island of Moonglow Hollow ten years ago after the mysterious death of her mother, she vowed never to return. But when a chance encounter with an old acquaintance ends in another peculiar death, Trixie can’t ignore the similarities. Going back to the island is harder than she expects. The life she left behind won’t leave her be—from the ex-boyfriend and former best friend who have moved on without her, to the grandmother who never supported Trixie living among nonmagical people. But Trixie doesn’t need their approval to investigate a murder everyone believes is an accident. With the help of her new familiar Sterling—who claims to be a dragon despite looking like a cat—Trixie must sift through tangled motives to root out the killer. But every potential lead leaves her with more questions than answers, and time is running out before she has to leave the island and return to her nonmagical life. If she can unravel who cast the curse, she could be one step closer to figuring out who killed her mother—but only if the killer doesn’t hex her first. Sign up to learn about new releases: https://www.authoremail.com/email/lists/xh451gzmtj215/subscribe Chapter 1 I parked in front of Adorned Antiques and checked the street for oncoming traffic before opening the door and climbing out of my car. After the air conditioning in the restaurant I’d just left and the atmospheric controls in my Honda Accord, the humidity in the air draped itself around me like a wet blanket. The sooner I got inside the store, the better. This marked the last stop in what was supposed to be a three-day blitz of authenticating antiques for my boss at Henderson Insurance. But because of my talent with objects, I had whittled down three days of work to two—not that I would reveal that to anyone at the company. With any luck, it would be my final work trip to an antique shop ever. Three days from now, I had my second interview with the Detroit Institute of Arts for the position of museum educator. It was a dream job. Since before even my first interview, I often fell asleep fantasizing about leading tours through the different galleries within the institute, sharing the deep history associated with each piece of art. Despite the fact that my bachelor’s degree in art was faked—the one task in ten years I’d sought out magic for—I was the most qualified person the museum could ever hope to hold the position. I didn’t have to rely on dusty tomes or fragmented histories to tell a piece’s story—I could glean all I needed from a simple touch. Psychometry was the official word for what I could do. It was a gift passed down from my mother. According to my grandmother, Mom was the first in the Bigsby line to display the rare talent in over a century. The only time my magical abilities ever impressed Nan was when I started perceiving memories related to items Mom curated for her antiques shop. But that was a long time ago. Those days spent skimming my fingers over vases and tea services on the shelves in Rediscoveries felt like another life. I circled around the car to the sidewalk, but as I stepped onto the curb, something warm and silky brushed up against my ankles. “Meow!” A cat with luxurious long gray fur and striking green eyes peered up at me. “What’s a nice cat like you doing in a place like this?” I grinned, but the cat simply stared unblinkingly back. I chucked. “You probably smell the salmon I had for dinner.” At the word “salmon,” the cat meowed again. I thought about the to-go container in the passenger seat of my car. There wasn’t much more than a couple of bites left of my salmon fillet, but the waitress was thoughtful enough to drop a box off at my table. It would have been rude to leave it all behind, so I’d packed it up. Sighing, I turned back to my car. “I suppose it’s too warm out to leave this sitting out here in the sun.” I pulled open the door and lifted the lid on the carry-out container. The cat let out another sharp call as I set down my briefcase and picked up the matchbook-size portion of fish. I broke it into a few flaky pieces and dropped it to the ground. As soon as the meat hit the sidewalk, the cat began to eat. After wiping my fingers with a napkin from my glove compartment and closing the door, I squatted down beside the feline and scratched his head. “Enjoy, buddy. I’d keep you company while you eat, but I’ve got to get to work.” The cat purred as I stood up, straightening my black pencil skirt. Tossing my auburn hair over my shoulders and gripping my briefcase, I continued my path across the sidewalk. Bells tinkled as I pushed open the door to Adorned Antiques, which styled itself a high-end gallery filled with relics from the past. I stepped inside and into a world of warm, cheery wood tones and brightly lit glass cases filled with vases and