Witch Slapped (Witchless in Seattle Mysteries book 1)
“Sherwood!” I called as I entered the near-empty Strange Brew, the coffee shop next door to Madam Zoltar’s.
The shop was filled with pastel-colored wrought iron tables, cheerful bud vases with pink carnations, and a glass counter with fat muffins in every flavor imaginable. I liked the vibe in here.
It was easy on the eye, and the smooth coffeehouse jazz playing over the sound system soothed my nerves for what I was about to do. Which was behave as though Chester Sherwood had never accused me of... murdering “his” Tina. Keep your enemies close and all.
“How about you not be so nice to the guy who accused you of hurting ‘his Tina’,” Belfry chirped from inside my purse, still cross he’d missed my deal-making with Winterbottom.
When he’d heard about our newfound riches, he’d been thrilled. Until he heard I didn’t fight for the Aston Martin. Then he’d pouted for two hours after the most sumptuous breakfast I’d had in years—courtesy of my fat bank account. After taking a cab into Seattle and finding a place to dine where no one would label me a murderer, I’d treated Belfry and myself to the first decent meal we’d had in weeks.MoreLess
The shop was filled with pastel-colored wrought iron tables, cheerful bud vases with pink carnations, and a glass counter with fat muffins in every flavor imaginable. I liked the vibe in here.
It was easy on the eye, and the smooth coffeehouse jazz playing over the sound system soothed my nerves for what I was about to do. Which was behave as though Chester Sherwood had never accused me of... murdering “his” Tina. Keep your enemies close and all.
“How about you not be so nice to the guy who accused you of hurting ‘his Tina’,” Belfry chirped from inside my purse, still cross he’d missed my deal-making with Winterbottom.
When he’d heard about our newfound riches, he’d been thrilled. Until he heard I didn’t fight for the Aston Martin. Then he’d pouted for two hours after the most sumptuous breakfast I’d had in years—courtesy of my fat bank account. After taking a cab into Seattle and finding a place to dine where no one would label me a murderer, I’d treated Belfry and myself to the first decent meal we’d had in weeks.MoreLess
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