Pumpkin Spice & Poltergeist (Maple Hollow #1)

“Well, that’s a first.” She twirled a strand of hair contemplatively. “Are you sure it’s not for some other reason? Ghosts aren’t infallible.”

I cringed. “She seems pretty adamant. But I mean . . . I guess I can go on one date with someone. That might be easier than finding some sort of spell to send her back against her will, right?”

“Hey!” Lou shouted. “Don’t you dare.”

“It’s risky,” Iris said at the same time. “If you anger a liminal spirit, it could make her malevolent.”

Iris closed the big book. “There’s nothing that can help us in here. I’m going to Bones and Tomes to see what I can find.” With a groan, she lifted the grimoire back into her arms and headed toward the door. “We’re going to need some serious spell work to get rid of this bitch,” Iris grumbled.

“Thank you!” I called after her through cupped hands.

She paused, her back holding the door wide open. “It’s no worse than that time you saved me from that terrible mix-up with the mugroot.” I let out a light laugh at that. “Witches stick together. We’ll find a way to fix this, Jordyn.”

When she left, Lou looked back at me with a smile. “You already know how to fix this.”

“I can’t just fall in love on command to get rid of you,” I said, combing an exasperated hand through my hair. “There’s not exactly a bevy of queer women floating about town. I can’t just snap my fingers and have one stumble through the door.”

At that very moment, a girl in sage-green overalls covered by a familiar apron walked in the door. She had a shaggy wolf cut, a nose ring, and a bisexual pride flag pinned to her jean jacket.

Lou arched a brow at me, her smile turning wicked.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” I said under my breath before I fled into the back room.

6

HARLOW

What was it with jingling doors in this town?

Every shop seemed to have a string of golden bells above the door. Was that a superstition thing? Did it ward off bad spirits? Or was it just part of the spooky theme?

The apothecary was eerily quiet.

“Hello?” I tentatively asked the silent room.

The place felt like it was from another time with its towering shelves of bottles and potions, bundles of dried herbs hanging in the window, and the tall ladders on bronze wheels on either side of the room. In the center was a long table with little baskets of herbs and spices arranged around a mortar and pestle. I hoped ground cloves was one of the options.

A soft meow near my ankle caught my attention, and I looked down to find a black cat purring like a motor beneath the table.

“Please tell me you’re not the owner,” I said to the cat, crouching down and offering my hand to let him smell me.

He rubbed his cheek against my fingertips, and I scratched behind his ear.

A sudden crash sounded from somewhere above me, and I shot up so quickly that I smacked my head on the table ledge. I rubbed the sore spot that would inevitably turn into a goose egg.

I searched for the source of the noise, and my eyes landed on a small glass bottle lying splintered in the middle of the floor, bright-green dust scattered around it.

Fuck. Had I done that? Why was I cursed to be the clumsiest fool alive?

I walked over to the mess and reached out to start picking it up when a hand snapped out of thin air and grabbed my wrist.

“Don’t touch that,” a honeyed voice commanded.

I pulled away from the warm touch to come face-to-face with the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen. She had long brown hair that was tucked behind both ears, copper wire-rimmed glasses, a button nose, and rich hazel eyes, a kaleidoscope of greens and ambers within them. Were it not for the tight pinch of her mouth and her narrowed, suspicious eyes, I would’ve kept gawking, but instead I dropped my gaze and took a step back.

“S-sorry,” I said. “I don’t know how it happened, but I’ll pay for it.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she replied tightly before she went to fetch a broom and dustpan. “Things have a way of falling off the shelf here lately.”