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Textbook Ebook Extra Witchy Ann Aguirre 5 All Chapter PDF
Textbook Ebook Extra Witchy Ann Aguirre 5 All Chapter PDF
Happy reading!
Front Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Excerpt from Boss Witch
Acknowledgments
Back Cover
For Dixie:
Who tried her best to displace my laptop
and claim lap supremacy for all time.
You are the best dog ever.
It’s too bad you can’t read.
Chapter 1
Leanne Vanderpol got the call she most didn’t want in the middle of
a meeting she would’ve preferred not to attend.
Once again, the deputy mayor had off-loaded his responsibilities to
her with an unctuous smile. Strictly speaking, she wasn’t obligated
to attend, but someone from the mayor’s office had to, and those
assholes had slacking down to a fine art, usually executed under the
guise of “important business.” Since she’d be responsible for writing
the press release anyway—to cover Mayor Anderson’s behind when
he refused to fund the center’s current proposal—it seemed like the
lesser of two evils to get firsthand impressions without relying on
someone else.
When she took this job, she’d thought it was the best way to make
the world a better place without braving an election, but the longer
she worked in politics, the more she realized she needed to get her
ass in gear. Unmarried women often had a hard time getting elected,
and since she was twice divorced, it would be even tougher for
Leanne. She could imagine the smear campaign now:
She can’t even commit to one man. How can you trust her to do
what’s right for you?
If a potential husband dropped out of the sky, that would be
awesome, preferably one who stuck around until she got a seat on
the city council. If she had to attend these meetings, her voice
should matter, right? She wished she could approve the funding for
the community center herself, but in her current role, she lacked the
power to make any lasting changes.
With a sigh, she stared at her vibrating phone and tiptoed out the
back—not easy in a pair of designer heels. She didn’t let the backs
touch the floor until she pulled the door gently closed behind her. At
least the lights had been dimmed in the middle of the presentation,
providing cover for her exit. Her mother wasn’t the type to give up,
so she’d keep calling until Leanne answered. She took a few more
steps away from the conference room then picked up.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“What time will be you home?”
Based on precedent, the question sent cold chills down her spine.
“Why?”
“Hurry back! I’m making margaritas!”
Those prescient shivers ripened into full-on foreboding, and she
raised her eyes to the ceiling that bore an ominous water stain in the
shape of a turkey leg. The mayor really did need to allot more funds
for community use, not that doing the right thing ever pinged on his
radar. This center had seen better days, and the lighting was shit.
On the other end of the call, a blender whirred in the background.
Leanne counted to ten, wishing she had a normal witch for a
mother. Danica’s mom enjoys gardening. I bet she never spent the
summer following Phish in a van with a guy named Noodles. The
only good aspects of that? Leanne had been left to her own devices
when she was old enough to manage, and her mom didn’t marry
Noodles.
“You’re in my kitchen, aren’t you?”
Sunshine and cheer sparkled across the line. If there was a project
glitter spell, her mom would be casting it. “I landed three hours ago!
Wanted to surprise you.”
Surprise was one word that could apply to her mother’s
unexpected arrival, but not the one Leanne had in mind. “We’ve
talked about this. Boundaries, remember? Popping in isn’t—”
“They’re mango margaritas!” her mom cut in.
For this interruption, Leanne was missing the main point of the
meeting she shouldn’t have agreed to attend. “It’s two in the
afternoon.”
“It’s booze o’clock somewhere.”
Leanne sighed. There was no point in trying to reason with Juniper
“Junie” Vanderpol. She’d never get Junie to understand that Leanne
had an actual career, not just a place where she showed up to
occasionally earn cash to pay the rent. Junie preferred living as the
spirit moved her; Leanne’s middle name had been “Moonbeam,”
though she’d legally dropped it down to a mysterious M when she
reverted to her maiden name after her first marriage. People could
do that free of charge during divorce proceedings, no separate
name-change decree required.
“I’ll be home around five,” she said. “I’ll have a drink with you,
then I’m going out. If you’d called ahead, you would know my
coven’s having a party tonight.”
“Sounds fun…” The wistful tone came across crystal clear.
Leanne knew her mother was angling for an invite, and she’d be
damned if she added that much chaos to an occasion that already
might blow sky-high. Between Danica and Clem, the coven had as
much tension as it could hold. They didn’t need Junie adding her
special brand of spontaneity to the mix.
“I’m sure it will be,” she said briskly.
She swallowed the rest of her words. You’re my mother. We’re not
besties. That wasn’t how Junie had raised Leanne, however. She had
been twenty when she chose to get pregnant, twenty-one when she
had Leanne, and she’d raised her as if they were friends who
cohabitated. There were never any rules—Leanne ate cookies for
breakfast, cereal for dinner, or whatever she could find, and there
was always another handsome man promising Junie the sun and
stars. More often than not, she’d believed them, and she had been
married six times. Oddly, the one person Junie hadn’t married was
Leanne’s father; Leanne had never met the man, as far as she could
recall, though there had been so many “uncles” that she was sick of
the word.
“See you later,” Junie said, some of the brightness seeping out of
her voice.
Leanne cut the call, wishing she could siphon away the insidious
guilt as easily. It was easy to tell that her mom was lonely, but it
wasn’t Leanne’s fault that she’d lived like a nomad, never putting
down roots. Unlike her mother, Leanne had chosen St. Claire after
doing significant research on the place and finding a coven that fit
her. She’d moved here intentionally after college, selected this as her
home, and never regretted that decision. If Mom wanted to live in
St. Claire, she could find a place here, but she couldn’t burst into
Leanne’s life and expect everything to work out long-term.
Quietly, she crept back into the meeting in time to hear the main
point. Unfortunately, all eyes locked onto her as she returned to her
chair. Lorraine Talbot, the director of the community center, seemed
particularly perturbed that Leanne had ducked out. Lorraine frowned
so hard that her eyebrows touched, her rust-lipsticked mouth
compressed in a firm line. The color didn’t suit her even slightly,
rendering her freckled complexion sallow.
“We were under the impression the mayor’s office takes our
concerns seriously,” she snapped, skewering Leanne with a gimlet
stare.
Damn Deputy Mayor Dudley. I’m not even meant to be here. This
day sucks.
“We do. I’m truly sorry for the interruption. You have my full
attention.”
She spent the next hour listening to valid agitation regarding
budget cuts. As director of communications, Leanne shouldn’t be
dealing with any of this. Both Mayor Anderson and Deputy Mayor
Dudley were prime examples of people failing upward, until they
plateaued and became someone else’s problem. If the people who’d
voted for them had any inkling how much time they spent on the
golf course while making staffers pull their weight—
Best not to dwell on it. I’ll end up with resting witch face, and
Lorraine will think it’s about her.
At last, the meeting ended, and Leanne offered vague assurances
about presenting their reasonable requests to the mayor. Who
wouldn’t listen, because he never did. The man had perfected a
jovial expression, one that seemed attentive and sympathetic, while
he pondered something else. If her job wasn’t to keep his office
smelling like roses, figuratively speaking, she’d have let him fall on
his face years ago.
If only I’d known what a tool he is before I took this job…
Dan Rutherford, a city councilman, stopped her before she could
make her escape. The man…loomed. There was no other word for it.
He was tall and broad, dedicated to working out, and she had no
doubt that he considered himself a vital and exciting man. Though
he dressed well, she hated his affectation in wearing a bolo tie. And
don’t get me started on the cowboy boots. It’s not like he’s from
Texas or Arizona. His skin was deeply weathered, and he kept his
haircut high and tight, showing off a faint and involuntary tonsure at
the back of his head.
“Looking beautiful today, Ms. Vanderpol.” His gaze dropped to her
boobs, lingering a while before it returned to her face.
She refused to say thanks for a compliment she didn’t want;
instead, she folded her arms across her chest. “Did you need
something, sir?” Goddess, but it galled her to add that respectful
word at the end. She’d rather kick his shins.
“Can you ask your boss to call me? He said something about
setting up a tee time, but I can’t get him on the horn.”
“You could call the office,” she suggested.
This is so sus. Send him a text. Or an email? Try his assistant,
even. Why are you bothering me with this?
“But you’re right here.” His tone became cajoling. “I’ll make it
worth your while. Hell, if I had my way, you’d be on my arm,
brightening up every room you enter. You wouldn’t need to work
another day in your life.”
Wow. I just threw up a little in my mouth. Did this bastard
seriously just ask me to be his trophy wife? Well, he hinted at it
anyway.
She counted to ten because if she told this asshole off, he’d
complain to Mayor Anderson, then the mayor would find creative
ways to make her life worse. Nothing actionable, of course. He was
too crafty for that, even if he wasn’t brilliant in other ways.
The lesser of two evils was to comply with this request and end
the conversation. “What days and times work for the golf meeting?”
she asked briskly.
“That depends on you,” he said with what he likely intended to be
a flirtatious smile. “When are you available?”
Just as she’d suspected, this was an excuse to ask her out. “I don’t
play golf, but thanks anyway. If you need to check your schedule
first, I suggest contacting the mayor via text. He tends to dodge
actual phone calls.”
Rutherford let out a booming laugh. “You’re feisty. I love that.
Never mind, then. I’ll get in touch with him sooner or later. Man
can’t run forever—he owes me money.”
Uh, what? That was way more than she wanted to know about
their personal business.
“I have a meeting. If you’ll excuse me…” Leanne strode off, taking
that permission for granted, mostly because she didn’t care about
Dan Rutherford’s response.
I can’t believe that jerk represents my district.
Without looking back, she hurried to her car, feeling vaguely grimy
from that interaction.
According to the time, she should return to the office for an hour,
but if she did that, they’d suck her into some other crap that wasn’t
part of her job description. It didn’t seem so bad, suddenly, to go
have a margarita with Junie. Fudging the truth a little, she called the
receptionist to say, “I’ll be out of the office this afternoon. Let
anyone who might be looking for me know that I’ll be in at the usual
time tomorrow.”
The nice part about her job was that she did sometimes work off-
site, so the mayor wouldn’t follow up. Neither would the deputy
mayor, as they were teeing off by now. Maybe Rutherford could join
them. And nobody else had the right to check up on her, so she
could get away with being a little irresponsible today. Leanne headed
straight home from the community center, passing through the
residents’ gate with card access. Junie’s skill with illusion meant
she’d probably pretended to be Leanne to gain entrance earlier. That
was the way she operated: convenience before honesty in most
regards.
The guard stared so hard that Leanne paused as the gate lever
rose. “You probably didn’t even see me leave, did you?”
“I sure didn’t.”
Which meant she was right about Junie. “Watch less court TV,
Ernest.”
He shot her a rueful look as she pulled away, making room for the
car behind her.
Leanne’s condo was on the fourth floor. The building had an
elevator, and she appreciated not having any neighbors above her.
The view was nice too; she faced the back of the community,
overlooking a man-made pond. Landscaped with carefully shaped
topiary and a profusion of flowers, the little lake even had ducks that
flocked to it. Leanne had no idea if they had been part of the plan or
if they’d moved in on their own. She’d heard the grounds keeper
bitching about cleaning up after them, though.
She input the code to let herself in and found her mom chilling at
the breakfast bar with a margarita in hand. The kitchen was a mess,
as Junie never did anything neatly. “I see you made yourself at
home.”
“It’s where the heart is,” Junie said cheerfully.
“And I’m your heart?” She didn’t mean to sound so skeptical.
“Of course you are. You’re my little LeLe Moonbeam.”
Please, no.
For the first time ever, she asked her mother for advice, mostly
because Junie was here. “What would you do if a man made you
feel grubby as hell just by looking at you? He’s such an awful,
arrogant son of a bitch.”
“Find some way to make him sorry,” Junie said promptly. “You
could hex him?”
“I don’t want to be that witch. It’s not like he wronged me in the
Victorian sense, but he’s such a gross chauvinist. Ugh.”
“If it’s a matter of disrespect, take something that belongs to him.
I once hot-wired this asshole’s Toyota, but I magicked myself to look
like someone else during the theft, and I only drove it for half an
hour because I didn’t want to get arrested. I wouldn’t do well in
prison.”
Apart from grand theft auto, that was…surprisingly on point—and
in line with Leanne’s own thinking. She needed more time to ponder,
but the seeds of an idea were already germinating, and in the
meantime, the cocktails were delicious. Leanne had one, then two,
and giggled with her mom while figuring out what to wear to the
party later.
If she couldn’t escape Junie’s influence, maybe she’d lean into it.
***