Midlife Magic Mirror: A Paranormal Women's Midlife Fiction Novel (Legacy Witches of Shadow Cove Book 1)

Midlife Magic Mirror LEGACY WITCHES OF SHADOW COVE JENNIFER L. HART ELEMENTS UNLEASHED Contents Content Warning 1. Donna 2. Bella 3. Donna 4. Donna 5. Bella 6. Donna 7. Bella 8. Bella 9. Donna 10. Donna 11. Bella 12. Donna 13. Bella 14. Donna 15. Donna 16. Donna 17. Donna 18. Bella 19. Donna 20. Donna 21. Donna 22. Bella 23. Donna Note From the Author Midlife Magic Monster Also by Jennifer L. Hart This one is for Traci/Gentry Lee/Liane/Nyx/mama diva/the mermaid. Whatever name you go by you are beautiful inside and out. Content Warning This book contains witchcraft, violence, themes of rape and abuse, as well as characters overcoming past trauma. I try to handle these themes with love and respect but if they are too much for you as a reader, you might want to skip this book. Love and light, Jennifer L. Hart Chapter 1 Donna Some days I had the adulting thing down. Then there were days I spit toothpaste in my own hair. “What the shit?” Shifting my binder, phone, shoulder bag, and umbrella to my left side, I fumbled with the keys, wondering if I had used the wrong one. Why else wouldn’t it fit in the lock? I’d color-coded each bow with different nail polish to keep exactly that from happening. Mysterious Purple for the garage, Crimson Skies for the office I never used for anything but storage, and Golden Sands for the storage locker that held my surplus projects. It had been a very long day and my mind was back at the college campus where I’d just left my son for the start of his freshman fall semester. I squinted at the key, already on the verge of panic. I lost things. Important things. More often than I wanted to admit. Nope, that was the key with Seafoam painted on the flat. The binder with all the fabric samples fell out of my hand and landed face-down in a puddle as I attempted to reinsert the key. Frustration made tears mingle with the rain. Okay, self, deep breath. Focus. All I wanted was to get out of these wet clothes, pour a glass of wine, and sit in my oversized bathtub until I thawed out. Why, today of all days, did everything have to be so frigging difficult? “Because you have ADHD,” I muttered the answer to my own question. “Because your frigging brain makes everything more frigging difficult, Donna.” The brain I’d had for forty-four years was neurodivergent. The diagnosis was relatively new. I hadn’t been a disruptive child who bounced off the walls during class. I didn’t make scenes and didn’t disrupt the other students. Even if my mother would have listened to conventional advice, there had been no need to go to a doctor or try out a prescription. No, I just quietly read what I wanted to read instead of the things I was supposed to be reading. I quietly developed my ways to cope with hyperfocus, tuning out, and time blindness. I quietly slipped through the cracks. In its own way, my wonky brain had done me a solid. It forced me to develop coping strategies to function. My key method hadn’t failed me before so clearly, something else was amiss. Warm rain beat down on my umbrella and ran in rivulets around me as I crouched down to study the doorknob. The brass doorknob. I stared at it for a long moment, trying to reconcile what I was seeing. The knob was new. As in brand-spanking new. No gouges or scratches from fumbling with keys. It was also ugly and didn’t quite cover the unpainted section the previous oil-rubbed bronze had because it had been oval, not circular. “What the hell is going on here?” Could there have been some sort of accident? A tree fell through the front door, smashing the old handle and lock set. Yeah, I could picture that. If so, why hadn’t Lewis called me to let me know what had happened? After shifting a load of stuff to one hand, I tried my husband’s cell. Straight to voicemail. He’d left the campus early, stating he had things to do for work. I had wanted to lean on him on the day that had tied my insides into anxious knots, sending my lone chick out to fly from the nest. But Lewis wasn’t the strong supportive type of husband. Most of the time I had to work around him. Better for everyone that he’d left. A gust of wind almost ripped my umbrella from my hands. Ridiculous. I could just go in through the garage door. The mystery of the changed lock could wait until I had a big glass of sweet red coursing through my system. Glaring at the shitty door knob one last time, I slogged my way down the concrete steps and over the garden path to the garage door. All the fine hairs stood up on my neck when I saw the twin to the front door lock with an accompanying deadbolt barring my way. I tried Lewis again. When his voicemail picked up right away, I left a terse message. “It’s Donna. I’m locked out of the house. Call me as soon as you get this.” Thunder rumbled overhead and I shivered. Water had soaked through my sneakers and my socks were soggy. No one was out on our street so at least no one was witnessing my humiliation. Then again, it would be nice if one of my neighbors invited me out of the storm to wait. I could sit in my car. The little silver Impala had heat. Or I could drive into town, maybe go to the coffee shop and wait for Lewis to turn on his damn phone. But my wine and bathtub were on the other side of those accursed locks. This was my home, damn it. My refuge from the world. Something I badly needed. If I’d been younger, less