Witches in the Kitchen: Magic Inn Paranormal Mysteries Book One (Cozy Paranormal Women's Fiction)

WITCHES IN THE KITCHEN MAGIC INN PARANORMAL MYSTERIES BOOK ONE Up until a week ago, my only experience with magic came from the movies. Unfortunately, it didn’t stay that way. A bout of insomnia leads to witnessing a scene that belongs in a vampire flick—only, the fangs looked way more realistic. One second, I was running for my life, and the next, I found myself choking on a hairball in the back of an SUV. That’s right … a hairball. See, apparently my body was hiding a pretty big secret and I’m some kind of witch. One that turns into a cat when under duress. Apparently, my choices are fight, flight, or … fur. Overnight, I find myself thrust into a world of magic and mayhem beyond my most sleep-deprived delirium. Until the rogue vampire is captured, I’m placed into some kind of witch-ness protection program, and sent to live in a house full of actual monsters. What’s the worst that could happen? Hey, at least running for my life will help me squeeze in my cardio. Copyright © 2023 by Danielle Garrett Cover by Cover Affairs All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental. CONTENTS 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 More Beechwood Harbor Magic Magic with Cat-titude Sugar Shack Witch Mysteries Books By Danielle Garrett About the Author 1 “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting on hold?!” Grimacing, I flicked a glance at the digital queue. Three hundred calls waiting—or, more accurately, three hundred angry customers waiting. Of course, there were varying shades of anger; ranging from the mildly inconvenienced—those who would offer lots of heavy sighs and muttered responses—to those slinging curses and frothing at the mouth. “Hello? Don’t tell me I’ve wasted my entire morning just to get hung up on by some robot!” The woman snapping into my ear was clearly in the latter camp. “I’m here, ma’am,” I said, my fingers already flying over my keyboard. “Can I start by asking for your name and account number, please?” “So, you’re not even going to bother trying to apologize for wasting my morning?” she demanded with an audible harrumph. The queue flickered. Three hundred and twelve calls now. A creeping sensation snaked up the back of my neck, as unwelcome as the spider I’d found in my shower that morning. Though, I’d let it be. Winter was particularly cold this year, and while I couldn’t afford to keep my apartment much above sixty-six degrees Fahrenheit, it was warmer than the outdoors. If I were a tiny insect, I’d probably be looking for a warm-ish shower stall, too. “I am sorry about the wait,” I told the woman, biting back a sigh. The truth of it was, I was sorry. It certainly hadn’t been my decision to let half the customer support staff go—and right before the holidays. Those of us who remained were all trying to do our best, though it seemed every day we only sunk further and further. Three hundred and twenty-seven. My left eye began twitching. Rubbing the pulsing tremor, I squeezed my eyes closed for a moment. Blocking it all out. If only for a moment. “Yes, well, be that as it may, I’d like to speak with a manager as soon as we’re done here,” the woman said, her tone icier than when we’d started. “This is simply no way to treat long-time customers like me! I’ve been with Pink Bubble Books since version two!” It was the last thing I needed. Upper management had no pity or empathy for those of us on the accounting software company’s front lines. They made their stance abundantly clear several weeks ago, when they cut the bulk of the support staff without notice. Of course, they didn’t care. They were too busy sipping Mai Thais on a beach somewhere, courtesy of their record executive bonuses. I was already on thin ice with upper management thanks to my tendency to spend more that the allotted time with my customers—at least, the nice ones. I hated the time restrictions enforced because it always felt like rushing or glossing over important things for the sake of time, which in my mind created something of a vicious cycle. If a customer didn’t get all their questions addressed, or hung up feeling uncertain about how to proceed, it would inevitably force them to call back again, which only added to the number in the queue. It seemed like common sense. But as my grandmother used to say, common sense isn’t all that common. “I understand your frustration, ma’am,” I said, hoping my tone was placating without falling into condescending. Customers like this one were the bane of my existence. The kind who thought the first person who picked up their phone call was the reason for all of their troubles, and therefore could serve as a verbal punching bag. “I’ll be more than happy to patch you through if I cannot answer your questions to your satisfaction. Now, can I please have your account number in order to pull up your information?” The woman on the other end of