Spookily Yours (Witches of Pleasant Grove, #1)

by Jennifer Chipman

There was nothing quite as magical as getting lost in the pages of a good book. I’d always loved that feeling—looking up, and realizing I’d just spent the last three straight hours reading without a break.

“He’s friendly.” Damien chirped in response, rubbing against Luna’s ankles happily. Except for when a man is around,

Even though her scent was intoxicating to my system. I wondered if I was already addicted to it.

If the way I craved her, down to my being, was normal.

What business did I have coming in here, messing up her life, anyway? She’d adopted a cat, expecting a lifelong feline friend. Instead, she’d gotten me.

I couldn’t think straight with her this close to me. Not with her scent invading all of my senses.

“Fine.” Willow’s lips widened, her teeth peeking out as she gave me a dazzling grin. “That was easier than I thought.” “What?” “To have you begging me.” You’d like that, would you? Me on my knees for you. “All you have to do is ask, witch.” “Mm. You’d like that, would you, demon?” My hand curled around her bicep. “Be careful what you ask for.”

“You’re really staying?” Her words were quiet, barely more than a whisper. “Do you want me to?” Maybe that was the more important question. Her eyes met mine, and she gave me a small, single nod. The movement was almost too slight to catch, but I couldn’t miss it. Not when I was so focused on her.

It was one perk of living in such a small community—being able to walk almost everywhere.

i wish

And I’d always had my sister—even with the three years between us, she was still my best friend—by my side.

How was it possible that I could find his very nearness so comforting after only a few days? He was a stranger to me, in every way, and yet it felt like there was nowhere else I would rather be.

“Has anyone ever told you how your face lights up when you’re excited about something?”

“How old are you?” “Two hundred and eighty-seven.”

“how long have you been seventeen?”

I had no business thinking about Damien like that. Like he was mine.

I hated that I liked it so much. I wasn’t supposed to like him. He was a demon, after all.

“You have had pie before, right?” “Willow. I’m a demon. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“Willow,” his voice rasped out. “Don’t look at me like that.” “Like what?”

“Like you want me to kiss you.”

“What if I do?”

“What, two hundred and eighty-seven years wasn’t enough to figure out what you wanted to do with your life?” Damien brushed a hair behind my ear. “It didn’t feel like much of a life until I met you.”

“I think I’ve loved you since I first laid eyes on you, Willow.”