Extra Witchy
Front Cover
Title Page
Thank you for downloading this Sourcebooks eBook!
You are just one click away from…
• Being the first to hear about author happenings
• VIP deals and steals
• Exclusive giveaways
• Free bonus content
• Early access to interactive activities
• Sneak peeks at our newest titles
Happy reading!
CLICK HERE TO SIGN UP
Books. Change. Lives.
Copyright
Copyright © 2022 by Ann Aguirre
Cover and internal design © 2022 by Sourcebooks
Cover design by Stephanie Gafron/Sourcebooks
Cover illustration by Carolina Melis
Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Sourcebooks is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.
Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks
P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567–4410
(630) 961-3900
sourcebooks.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Aguirre, Ann, author.
Title: Extra witchy / Ann Aguirre.
Description: Naperville, Illinois : Sourcebooks Casablanca, [2022] |
Series: Fix-it witches; 3
Identifiers: LCCN 2022019559 (print) | LCCN 2022019560 (ebook) |
(trade paperback) | (epub)
Subjects: LCGFT: Novels.
Classification: LCC PR9200.9.A39 E98 2022 (print) | LCC PR9200.9.A39
(ebook) | DDC 823/.92--dc23/eng/20220420
Contents
Front Cover
Title Page
Copyright
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
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Excerpt from Boss Witch
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Back Cover
For Dixie:
Who tried her best to displace my laptop
and claim lap supremacy for all time.
You are the best dog ever.
It’s too bad you can’t read.
Chapter 1
Leanne Vanderpol got the call she most didn’t want in the middle of a meeting she would’ve preferred not to attend.
Once again, the deputy mayor had off-loaded his responsibilities to her with an unctuous smile. Strictly speaking, she wasn’t obligated to attend, but someone from the mayor’s office had to, and those assholes had slacking down to a fine art, usually executed under the guise of “important business.” Since she’d be responsible for writing the press release anyway—to cover Mayor Anderson’s behind when he refused to fund the center’s current proposal—it seemed like the lesser of two evils to get firsthand impressions without relying on someone else.
When she took this job, she’d thought it was the best way to make the world a better place without braving an election, but the longer she worked in politics, the more she realized she needed to get her ass in gear. Unmarried women often had a hard time getting elected, and since she was twice divorced, it would be even tougher for Leanne. She could imagine the smear campaign now:
She can’t even commit to one man. How can you trust her to do what’s right for you?
If a potential husband dropped out of the sky, that would be awesome, preferably one who stuck around until she got a seat on the city council. If she had to attend these meetings, her voice should matter, right? She wished she could approve the funding for the community center herself, but in her current role, she lacked the power to make any lasting changes.
With a sigh, she stared at her vibrating phone and tiptoed out the back—not easy in a pair of designer heels. She didn’t let the backs touch the floor until she pulled the door gently closed behind her. At least the lights had been dimmed in the middle of the presentation, providing cover for her exit. Her mother wasn’t the type to give up, so she’d keep calling until Leanne answered. She took a few more steps away from the conference room then picked up.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“What time will be you home?”
Based on precedent, the question sent cold chills down her spine. “Why?”
“Hurry back! I’m making margaritas!”
Those prescient shivers ripened into full-on foreboding, and she raised her eyes to the ceiling that bore an ominous water stain in the shape of a turkey leg. The mayor really did need to allot more funds for community use, not that doing the right thing ever pinged on his radar. This center had seen better days, and the lighting was shit. On the other end of the call, a blender whirred in the background.
Leanne counted to ten, wishing she had a normal witch for a mother. Danica’s mom enjoys gardening. I bet she never spent the summer following Phish in a van with a guy named Noodles. The only good aspects of that? Leanne had been left to her own devices when she was old enough to manage, and her mom didn’t marry Noodles.
“You’re in my kitchen, aren’t you?”
Sunshine and cheer sparkled across the line. If there was a project glitter spell, her mom would be casting it. “I landed three hours ago! Wanted to surprise you.”
Surprise was one word that could apply to her mother’s unexpected arrival, but not the one Leanne had in mind. “We’ve talked about this. Boundaries, remember? Popping in isn’t—”
“They’re mango margaritas!” her mom cut in.
For this interruption, Leanne was missing the main point of the meeting she shouldn’t have agreed to attend. “It’s two in the afternoon.”
“It’s booze o’clock somewhere.”
Leanne sighed. There was no point in trying to reason with Juniper “Junie” Vanderpol. She’d never get Junie to understand that Leanne had an actual career, not just a place where she showed up to occasionally earn cash to pay the rent. Junie preferred living as the spirit moved her; Leanne’s middle name had been “Moonbeam,” though she’d legally dropped it down to a mysterious M when she reverted to her maiden name after her first marriage. People could do that free of charge during divorce proceedings, no separate name-change decree required.
“I’ll be home around five,” she said. “I’ll have a drink with you, then I’m going out. If you’d called ahead, you would know my coven’s having a party tonight.”
“Sounds fun…” The wistful tone came across crystal clear.
Leanne knew her mother was angling for an invite, and she’d be damned if she added that much chaos to an occasion that already might blow sky-high. Between Danica and Clem, the coven had as much tension as it could hold. They didn’t need Junie adding her special brand of spontaneity to the mix.
“I’m sure it will be,” she said briskly.
She swallowed the rest of her words. You’re my mother. We’re not besties. That wasn’t how Junie had raised Leanne, however. She had been twenty when she chose to get pregnant, twenty-one when she had Leanne, and she’d raised her as if they were friends who cohabitated. There were never any rules—Leanne ate cookies for breakfast, cereal for dinner, or whatever she could find, and there was always another handsome man promising Junie the sun and stars. More often than not, she’d believed them, and she had been married six times. Oddly, the one person Junie hadn’t married was Leanne’s father; Leanne had never met the man, as far as she could recall, though there had been so many “uncles” that she was sick of the word.
“See you later,” Junie said, some of the brightness seeping out of her voice.
Leanne cut the call, wishing she could siphon away the insidious guilt as easily. It was easy to tell that her mom was lonely, but it wasn’t Leanne’s fault that she’d lived like a nomad, never putting down roots. Unlike her mother, Leanne had chosen St. Claire after doing significant research on the place and finding a coven that fit her. She’d moved here intentionally after college, selected this as her home, and never regretted that decision. If Mom wanted to live in St. Claire, she could find a place here, but she couldn’t burst into Leanne’s life and expect everything to work out long-term.
Quietly, she crept back into the meeting in time to hear the main point. Unfortunately, all eyes locked onto her as she returned to her chair. Lorraine Talbot, the director of the community center, seemed particularly perturbed that Leanne had ducked out. Lorraine frowned so hard that her eyebrows touched, her rust-lipsticked mouth compressed in a firm line. The color didn’t suit her even slightly, rendering her freckled complexion sallow.
“We were under the impression the mayor’s office takes our concerns seriously,” she snapped, skewering Leanne with a gimlet stare.
Damn Deputy Mayor Dudley. I’m not even meant to be here. This day sucks.
“We do. I’m truly sorry for the interruption. You have my full attention.”
She spent the next hour listening to valid agitation regarding budget cuts. As director of communications, Leanne shouldn’t be dealing with any of this. Both Mayor Anderson and Deputy Mayor Dudley were prime examples of people failing upward, until they plateaued and became someone else’s problem. If the people who’d voted for them had any inkling how much time they spent on the golf course while making staffers pull their weight—
Best not to dwell on it. I’ll end up with resting witch face, and Lorraine will think it’s about her.
At last, the meeting ended, and Leanne offered vague assurances about presenting their reasonable requests to the mayor. Who wouldn’t listen, because he never did. The man had perfected a jovial expression, one that seemed attentive and sympathetic, while he pondered something else. If her job wasn’t to keep his office smelling like roses, figuratively speaking, she’d have let him fall on his face years ago.
If only I’d known what a tool he is before I took this job…
Dan Rutherford, a city councilman, stopped her before she could make her escape. The man…loomed. There was no other word for it. He was tall and broad, dedicated to working out, and she had no doubt that he considered himself a vital and exciting man. Though he dressed well, she hated his affectation in wearing a bolo tie. And don’t get me started on the cowboy boots. It’s not like he’s from Texas or Arizona. His skin was deeply weathered, and he kept his haircut high and tight, showing off a faint and involuntary tonsure at the back of his head.
“Looking beautiful today, Ms. Vanderpol.” His gaze dropped to her boobs, lingering a while before it returned to her face.
She refused to say thanks for a compliment she didn’t want; instead, she folded her arms across her chest. “Did you need something, sir?” Goddess, but it galled her to add that respectful word at the end. She’d rather kick his shins.
“Can you ask your boss to call me? He said something about setting up a tee time, but I can’t get him on the horn.”
“You could call the office,” she suggested.
This is so sus. Send him a text. Or an email? Try his assistant, even. Why are you bothering me with this?
“But you’re right here.” His tone became cajoling. “I’ll make it worth your while. Hell, if I had my way, you’d be on my arm, brightening up every room you enter. You wouldn’t need to work another day in your life.”
Wow. I just threw up a little in my mouth. Did this bastard seriously just ask me to be his trophy wife? Well, he hinted at it anyway.
She counted to ten because if she told this asshole off, he’d complain to Mayor Anderson, then the mayor would find creative ways to make her life worse. Nothing actionable, of course. He was too crafty for that, even if he wasn’t brilliant in other ways.
The lesser of two evils was to comply with this request and end the conversation. “What days and times work for the golf meeting?” she asked briskly.
“That depends on you,” he said with what he likely intended to be a flirtatious smile. “When are you available?”
Just as she’d suspected, this was an excuse to ask her out. “I don’t play golf, but thanks anyway. If you need to check your schedule first, I suggest contacting the mayor via text. He tends to dodge actual phone calls.”
Rutherford let out a booming laugh. “You’re feisty. I love that. Never mind, then. I’ll get in touch with him sooner or later. Man can’t run forever—he owes me money.”
Uh, what? That was way more than she wanted to know about their personal business.
“I have a meeting. If you’ll excuse me…” Leanne strode off, taking that permission for granted, mostly because she didn’t care about Dan Rutherford’s response.
I can’t believe that jerk represents my district.
Without looking back, she hurried to her car, feeling vaguely grimy from that interaction.
According to the time, she should return to the office for an hour, but if she did that, they’d suck her into some other crap that wasn’t part of her job description. It didn’t seem so bad, suddenly, to go have a margarita with Junie. Fudging the truth a little, she called the receptionist to say, “I’ll be out of the office this afternoon. Let anyone who might be looking for me know that I’ll be in at the usual time tomorrow.”
The nice part about her job was that she did sometimes work off-site, so the mayor wouldn’t follow up. Neither would the deputy mayor, as they were teeing off by now. Maybe Rutherford could join them. And nobody else had the right to check up on her, so she could get away with being a little irresponsible today. Leanne headed straight home from the community center, passing through the residents’ gate with card access. Junie’s skill with illusion meant she’d probably pretended to be Leanne to gain entrance earlier. That was the way she operated: convenience before honesty in most regards.
The guard stared so hard that Leanne paused as the gate lever rose. “You probably didn’t even see me leave, did you?”
“I sure didn’t.”
Which meant she was right about Junie. “Watch less court TV, Ernest.”
He shot her a rueful look as she pulled away, making room for the car behind her.
Leanne’s condo was on the fourth floor. The building had an elevator, and she appreciated not having any neighbors above her. The view was nice too; she faced the back of the community, overlooking a man-made pond. Landscaped with carefully shaped topiary and a profusion of flowers, the little lake even had ducks that flocked to it. Leanne had no idea if they had been part of the plan or if they’d moved in on their own. She’d heard the grounds keeper bitching about cleaning up after them, though.
She input the code to let herself in and found her mom chilling at the breakfast bar with a margarita in hand. The kitchen was a mess, as Junie never did anything neatly. “I see you made yourself at home.”
“It’s where the heart is,” Junie said cheerfully.
“And I’m your heart?” She didn’t mean to sound so skeptical.
“Of course you are. You’re my little LeLe Moonbeam.”
Please, no.
For the first time ever, she asked her mother for advice, mostly because Junie was here. “What would you do if a man made you feel grubby as hell just by looking at you? He’s such an awful, arrogant son of a bitch.”
“Find some way to make him sorry,” Junie said promptly. “You could hex him?”
“I don’t want to be that witch. It’s not like he wronged me in the Victorian sense, but he’s such a gross chauvinist. Ugh.”
“If it’s a matter of disrespect, take something that belongs to him. I once hot-wired this asshole’s Toyota, but I magicked myself to look like someone else during the theft, and I only drove it for half an hour because I didn’t want to get arrested. I wouldn’t do well in prison.”
Apart from grand theft auto, that was…surprisingly on point—and in line with Leanne’s own thinking. She needed more time to ponder, but the seeds of an idea were already germinating, and in the meantime, the cocktails were delicious. Leanne had one, then two, and giggled with her mom while figuring out what to wear to the party later.
If she couldn’t escape Junie’s influence, maybe she’d lean into it.
***
Trevor Montgomery was nervous.
Apart from his best friend, Titus, everyone had stopped talking to him years ago. Like his parents, they’d given up on him after Sarah left. Titus was the only one who didn’t drift. Even the guys they hung out with—Calvin, Dante, and Miguel—were more Titus’s friends than his, though nobody ever asked Why are you inviting that loser? he still felt it keenly, that sense of displacement. Of being the add-on, the guy nobody would include as their first choice.
Now he’d gotten invited to an actual party. Not poker night or beer with the guys. It had been so long that he’d settled into the awkwardness of not remembering how to talk to people. He’d be meeting Titus’s girlfriend and all her friends, and he acutely didn’t want to be that guy anymore. Not that he knew how to shake off the reputation—it was easier to wash out the scent of weed, and that skunky shit lingered. He liked being baked, maybe a little too much, but he could relate to those who hated the stink.
Thankfully, Titus didn’t give him shit when he picked Trevor up, because he’d dug deep into his closet for an outfit that didn’t say Hey, I live in my parents’ basement and my main hobbies are video games and quality Kush. He kept tugging at the collar of his polo on the way over. It’d been years since he wore anything but a T-shirt.
“It’ll be fine,” Titus said.
“Easy for you to say. Your girlfriend flew to Arizona to get you back.”
I’m such a fuckup. I can’t believe you invited me to meet people who could be so important to you.
His knee jittered, and he wished he had something to take the edge off. Anxiety might eat him alive before the night ended. Drinking until everything went blurry sounded good, but he couldn’t let himself do that either. Not when Titus trusted him to make a good impression on Danica’s friends. Trev’s palms went sweaty as they pulled up in front of the house. At least, he figured it must be the right place by the number of cars parked outside. After he swung out of the car, he rubbed his palms against his cargo shorts then followed Titus up the drive. In college, he’d attended house parties, so he shouldn’t be this freaked, but it had been years.
Is it possible to forget how to socialize?
He froze by the door, overwhelmed by the laughter and the music, but Titus towed him into the mix, introducing him around. Trev immediately forgot all the names he heard, and he couldn’t make eye contact with anyone either. He tried to control his breathing, but with every fiber of his being, he wanted to dash for the door and keep running, on and on, maybe until his heart exploded. Because I’m such a tool, I can’t even—
“I’m Leanne. Want to be my third husband?” Those utterly unexpected words cut into his near panic attack with surgical precision, leaving him too stunned to be anxious. To mess with his head even more, they’d been spoken by the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
Bombshell. That was the only word for this curvaceous redhead. She was gorgeous from head to toe, and she honestly seemed to be talking to him. If he hadn’t made a point of coming to this shindig sober, he would’ve sworn he was high.
Trev blinked. Nope, not hallucinating. She’s still here.
Before he even thought about it, he blurted, “I mean…maybe? Because I could get on board if you’re looking for a low-key, no-ambition type to look after the house. I cook and clean, do most general maintenance as well. Ask Titus, I’ve got references.”
Great, way to go. That’s not how flirting works. You sound like you’re genuinely applying for a job.
“As a handyman, not my third husband,” Titus clarified.
The woman laughed, as she was likely meant to. She chatted a bit with Danica and Titus, then they moved off together, leaving Trev staring at the ridiculously beautiful redhead. Broad forehead, wide cheekbones, pointed chin, and she had big eyes that didn’t know if they were blue or gray, framed by thick lashes. And her mouth—
The Story Continues on BooksBarbecue!
Enjoyed this preview? ❤️ Do not stop here!
Read the complete book free online → 🔗
Continue reading now on BooksBarbecue and discover every page!
Love reading? Bookmark BooksBarbecue.com for more amazing books!
Happy Reading!