Fangs and Frenemies (Blue Moon Bay Witches #1)

by Sierra Cross

Like her own grandmother before her, she imbued each wedding cake with a signature magical marriage blessing. As her apprentice witch, it was my job to assist with the spell.

Third Vow of a Green Witch, “Thou Shalt Not Use Magicks to Augment Thine Appearance.” The first two were way more reasonable. “Thou Shalt Not Use Magicks To Commit Murder.” Well, duh. And “Thou Shalt Not Use Magicks to Cause A Person to Fall in Love.”

Modern Green witches were chill compared to vampires and shifters, who still ordered executions at the drop of a hat like it was the Middle Ages.

Gran was all the family I had, not counting the rest of my family. Which I didn’t.

When a romantic relationship ended, at least you got a breakup. But friendship, even one as close as ours, could simply end. With no explanation.

wouldn’t say I had a posse, but I had peeps.

The Green Magic I was born with turned out to be ten times more potent than Beige.

“I have one.” I paused for effect. “Here.” “Oh, you’re so sweet. I meant a career job. Not a hairnet job.”

Beige Magic smelled like perfume. Red Magic smelled like berries or blood, supposedly. Since it was strictly outlawed, I’d never smelled it. Then there was Grey Magic. Considered experimental and not exactly safe, its use was first limited to academic settings. But lately, big corporations were starting to hire Grey Magic practitioners as consultants, on the theory that it gave their businesses an edge. I had no idea how that worked, but I did know what Grey Magic was supposed to smell like. Burning grass.

“Sorry I can’t be there for you while you upstage some poor bride.”

Even as Bryson snuggled closer to me, I couldn’t help but fear that the stress of everything—Java Kitty, Gran’s magical health, the incomplete spell, my bully’s wedding—was quickly spiraling out of control.

And I wouldn’t be able to hide from it tomorrow.

“‘Scuse me, I better get back to the bridal beasts-in-waiting.” David gestured back to the gazebo at the pretty bridesmaids. Several now appeared to be throwing grass at a bespectacled young man with a camera. “They’re about to tear apart my assistant.”

the magical gaze of vampires. Specifically, she’d said, “Don’t ever look one in the eyes.”

at one point, I believe he called me a “pastry pioneer.”

“But I believe there’s something special about this town. I had a feeling something wonderful was waiting for me here. You could call it destiny.”

I think he’s a bad guy just don’t know how it fits in

“According to Ashlee’s diary, the last person to see her alive was that hot new guy in town—the guy I saw you kissing on the pier the other night. Bryson Goodman.”

“Witches don’t fly, that’s a myth.” “Not even with a broomstick?” “Also a myth.” “Can you stop time?” “I’m a kitchen witch, not freakin’ Dr. Who.”

There wasn’t really much to process. Except what an idiot I’d been not to have guessed it all ten years ago.

Progress in what? I thought. Filling out her personality disorder bingo card?

“Really rich ice cream, with gooey caramel. And I have to feed it to you, as penance for upsetting you. Crazy, but it works for my parents—happily married thirty-two years.”

“Why would I make fun of you for drinking pink wine soda?”

“Boxed wine energy, gotcha.” He stroked his sparse chin, thoughtfully. “The lady knows what she likes.”

on throughout the procedure. That did it. Maybe I’d never be as free and uninhibited as Max, but it was time I owned being a witch.

I brushed away the tiniest concern that hanging out with a vampire and a shifter might be nibbling away at my humanity.

Gran snapped the mini-waffle’s lid decisively. “And all I want,” she said, looking me in the eyes, “is for you to marry a man who’s not literally demonic.”

His wedding dream had proved it, though I still felt guilty for invading his privacy.

I think the dream was fake and not actually real, and he’s a demon too

“Are you a witch being preyed on by a rogue Sandman demon who’s stealing all your energy?”

“You were a killer source of energy, but you’re not that great a catch.”

“Booyah, we’re getting the gang back together!” At Britt’s shocked glare, I hastily fixed it. “I mean, boo … Yeah … someone’s hunting you. I want to validate your feelings of fear, and support you in this time of—”