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C A Phipps

Witchy Awakening (EBOOK)

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EBOOK. BOOK 1 IN THE MIDLIFE POTSIONS SERIES.

Discovering you're a witch because your cat talks to you isn't as fun as it sounds. 

Then there's the body in the garden.

When Jessica Lavender's mother passes away, her mediocre life as a baker takes this unexpected turn, but it's not the only one. Faced with learning how to harness her magical abilities, Jess must also solve the suspicious death in her small town. 

This paranormal cozy mystery will have you questioning everything you thought you knew about magic and murder.

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Read a Sample

As soon as she opened her eyes this morning, Jess knew she’d only been fooling herself. After the first thundering knock from well-meaning neighbor #1 forced Jess out of bed, she managed a quick wash, slipped into yesterday’s clothes, and opened the door to an incessant flood of visitors. 

Visits overlapped, and these people who were mostly strangers stayed far longer than it took to drop off a dish of recently cooked food and pay their respects.

Eventually every counter-top and table was filled with plastic containers and plates. Jess had no words left to thank them or answer their myriad questions.
How she was, or what she had been up to since they’d last seen her, didn’t matter right now. They didn’t know her, and she didn’t want to know them.
You’re tired.
"You should tell them to leave.
"
The words swirled in her head, and Jess suddenly yawned in the next-door-neighbor’s face—the one who had set today off into this nightmare. Jess put a hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Crandle.”

The short, round woman, reminiscent of a fairy godmother, tutted. “You poor dear.” She clapped her hands, and the noise in the living room and kitchen subsided. “We’ve outstayed our welcome, ladies. Jessica is exhausted after her journey and needs to rest.”

With a few hugs and more sympathetic words, the rooms emptied as if by magic.

Jess smiled genuinely for the first time today. “Thank you, Mrs. Crandle.”

“You’re welcome, dear. I’ll be off too, as soon as I’ve cleared the rest of this food into the freezer, but might I give you a few words of advice?”
Jess’s smile froze, sensing that she had no real choice in the matter. “Of course, Mrs. Crandle.”
The woman counted off the fingers on her left hand. “Don’t touch Rebecca’s stew—you’ll have heartburn for days. I’d be wary of that pie from Daphne Dennison. Reg Doherty, the local chicken farmer, told me she’s been out collecting road kill again. Make sure you return all the containers if you don’t want to make enemies. Get down to your mother’s shop tomorrow and throw out all the expired ingredients before they rot.”
She was down to her last finger. “And now that you’re all grown up, please call me Amy.”