“Are you good witches? Or bad witches?”

I let my hands drop to my sides. “Mr. Henderson, we’re not good witches or bad witches.”

I shot a look over my shoulder at Nora. She gave me a wink.

“The truth is,” I said, turning back to our neighbor, feeling my eyes glow bright green, “we Warrens are the very best witches.”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Heartfelt thanks to my editor, Jenn Snyder, who saw the potential in this book when it was little more than an idea. Thank you also to Mary Ann Lasher and Vikki Chu for the beautiful cover, and to all the amazing people at Berkley Prime Crime and Penguin Random House for bringing this book into the hands of readers. As always, many thanks to my agent, Natalie Lakosil, for continuing to believe in me and my work. And special thanks to all the readers, librarians, and bloggers who have supported me in the past. Your kind words have always inspired me to keep writing.

Finally, I am forever indebted to my family and friends who have supported my writing from the beginning. In particular, I am forever grateful to my father, Barry Wallace, for providing me with a plethora of wonderful haikus to use at my will, and to my husband, Hector, who is always kind and patient regardless of the circumstance. I love you both.

Read on for an excerpt from the next Evenfall Witches B&B mystery

WHEN THE CROW’S AWAY

Coming in April 2022 from Berkley Prime Crime!

Pink-and-peach clouds, fiery in the sun’s dying rays, rolled slowly across the baby blue sky. A riot of birdsong rang out from the trees as a gentle breeze twirled fluffy seedpods in the air. Spring had finally come to Evenfall, Connecticut.

“I just love this time of year,” the woman beside me said. “That feeling of warm sunlight on your face. The sight of all the flowers popping up their sleepy heads. The smell of rich, fresh earth bursting with new life.” She sighed happily. “Isn’t it just magical?”

“I’ve never cared for it.”

I darted a look over to the woman seated on my other side, doing my best to suppress a smile. Some things never changed. While my aunt Izzy tended to see the very best in everyone and everything, my aunt Nora, well, she made an art form out of being perpetually unimpressed.

Then there was me. I was right in the middle. Literally.

I was seated between the two of them on the back porch of our family’s Queen Anne tower house, Ivywood Hollow Bed-and-Breakfast. My aunts had suggested we come outside to enjoy the spectacular sunset. It was hard to say if we were succeeding in that particular goal just yet.

“But it’s spring,” Izzy persisted. “What is there not to like about spring?”

“Quite a bit actually,” Nora said, flashing her long, crimson fingernails in the air. “Where should I begin? The sun is blinding in the early-morning hours. You can’t work in the garden without getting completely covered in mud. And then there is all this nonstop twittering.” She cast a disapproving glance at the trees.