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Kindle Notes & Highlights
by
Sierra Cross
Read between
October 24 - October 25, 2024
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.
The Green Magic I was born with turned out to be ten times more potent than Beige.
Green Magic had a sweet, bright scent like mown grass. Like spring. When Blue Moon Bay’s small community of practitioners met for a monthly pancake breakfast, our table smelled like a freshly cut lawn. But only to us.
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.
No, if I was worthy of becoming a master witch and running the bakery, then I’d need to neuter Java Kitty myself.
Almost too well, given my history of big romance fails.
“Get up, idiot,” she barked at Jenna, surprising me as I’d thought she was fixing to tell me off. “Your drunk-chick thing’s not cute anymore, it’s tired. You’re almost thirty.” While
the magical gaze of vampires. Specifically, she’d said, “Don’t ever look one in the eyes.”
“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.”
yeah. I was sitting across from a detective, and he definitely thought I was a moron.
