Spells and Jinglebells
A Collection of Paranormal Cozy Shorts
Spells and Jinglebells is a multi-author bundle, Copyright © 2017 by Regina Welling.
All individual titles copyrighted by the individual authors. Published December 2017 by Regina Welling.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Christmas Bonuses!
Danielle Garrett
The Ghost Hunter Who Saved Christmas
Tegan Maher
Witching for a Miracle
Cate Lawley
My, What Big Fangs You Have
Ani Gonzalez
The Mystery of the Christmas Doll
April Aasheim
A Dark Root Solstice: Aunt Dora’s Dilemma
Ruby Blaylock
Mistletoe, Magic, & Murder
Regina Welling and Erin Lynn
When Spell Freezes Over
Heather Horrocks
The Fruitcake That Saves Christmas
Amanda A. Allen
Gifts and Ghosts: A Christmas Carol
Sara Bourgeois
Brewing Cheer
Pearl Goodfellow
Feliz NaviDead
Ava Mallory
Holly-Locked
Sonia Parin
Jingle Purrs
M.Z. Andrews
Deal or Snow Deal
Authors’ Note
Christmas Bonuses!
Two Magical Bonuses From Us to You!
We hope our stories bring extra enchantment to your holiday season! We had such a great time writing these for you that we decided to add two fun bonuses.
A Magical Scavenger Hunt
We’ve chosen a single holiday object and woven it into each of our stories so that it appears in every story at least once. Figure it out for a chance to win an Amazon gift card and free books!
14 Days of Christmas
From December 10 through Christmas Eve, five random entrants per day will win a full-length book from one of our authors.
Go to this page to enter both contests or visit our Facebook page to enter and spend the holiday season with us!
The Ghost Hunter Who Saved Christmas
Beechwood Harbor Magic Mysteries
Danielle Garrett
Summary
It’s Christmastime in Beechwood Harbor, a sleepy coastal town that’s teeming with paranormal beings. The local children are waiting eagerly for the sound of sleigh bells and reindeer hooves, but in the days before Christmas Eve, their dreams turn to nightmares and a rash of hysteria threatens to overshadow the big day!
Local ghost whisperer Scarlet Sanderson already has her hands full with her thriving floral business and an impending visit from her uppity parents. But when she hears that there’s a revenge-hungry super-elf on the loose, she can’t sit on the sidelines. Together with Holly Boldt, a powerful witch, they have to stop the elf from stealing away every child’s dreams of Christmas before it’s too late.
Chapter One
When battling through the holiday season, I’d found it helped to make friends with the local baristas. As many of them as possible. Especially the kind, thoughtful ones who knew just when to slip you an extra shot—or three—of espresso. In the quaint, seaside town of Beechwood Harbor, there was only one coffee house. Luckily for me, Siren’s Song was staffed by some lovely baristas, all of whom noted the bags under my eyes and took pity on my poor, sleep-deprived soul.
It was my first year as a businesswoman, having opened my own floral design shop earlier in the year. I was a skilled florist, but between the holiday-party centerpieces, Christmas garlands and wreaths, and the several dozen potted poinsettias I’d been slinging all over town for the past two weeks as preparations reached a final fever-pitch, I was exhausted.
I started each day feeling like a hopped-up hummingbird yet somehow ended up moving like a turtle trudging through a vat of peanut butter by the end of it. My assistant, Lizzie, was trained up and helping as best she could, but the printer continued to spit orders in such a steady flow that I wasn’t sure we’d ever make it to the bottom of the stack. As soon as one batch of deliveries was loaded into the back of the company van, I’d turn around and find ten new orders, still warm from the always-buzzing machine.
And then there were the ghosts.
In addition to general holiday chaos, I had the extra task of sorting out the qualms of those who weren’t quite resting in peace. Since my eighth birthday, I’ve been able to see and speak with ghosts. Call it a blessing or a curse. I go back and forth most days. Recently, a whole host of needy specters had wormed from the woodwork and spent the day vying for my attention.
My loyal ghost-friends Gwen, Hayward, and Flapjack did their best to keep the hangers-on at bay, but there was only so much they could do. And, to be honest, even the usual trio was starting to grate on my nerves a little bit.
So, when I made my plans to spend the Friday before Christmas in Seattle, doing my last-minute—okay, fine, all of my—Christmas shopping, I made sure the ghosts in my life knew it was a spirit-free zone. On my way back to Beechwood Harbor, I took it slow and made a pit-stop at Siren’s Song to stretch the solo outing a little bit further.
“Hey, Scarlet!” Holly Boldt called from the front counter. She had a broom in her hands and if not for the presence of the shop manager, Cassandra Frank, I would have cracked a joke about her using it to fly home. She was a witch after all. It was a rare moment when I needed Flapjack, the ghost of my childhood cat, there to tell the joke on my behalf. He was a royal pain in the rear, but at least he kept me laughing.
“Hello, Holly. Cassie.” I stepped deeper into the cozy shop, letting the warm, espresso-scented air envelope me and melt away the layer of snowflakes dusting my coat. “Am I too late to get a latte?” I asked, shifting my gaze to the espresso machine to Holly’s right. The blue lights on the front were flashing and I hoped that meant it was still ready for one more round.
Holly grinned as she sidestepped to lean the broom against the nearest wall. “Not a problem. How many shots do you want?” She glanced up at the copper-faced clock on the wall. It was creeping up on eight o’clock. The coffee shop had been running extended hours to keep up with the surrounding retail shops in the small town.
I sagged against the counter, dropping down to rest my weight on my forearms and peered up at her. “Load me up.”
Holly went to work and within seconds, the rich, comforting scent of dark-roast espresso wafted to my nose, reviving me ever so slightly. I perked when the shots finished pouring. She raised the two shot glasses and I grinned. “Hit me.”
Holly laughed. “Living dangerously.”
“More accurately, I have about three dozen presents to wrap and when that’s done, assuming I don’t end up hog-typing myself in Scotch tape, I get to move on to deep-cleaning my entire apartment so I can minimize snide comments from my ever-doting mother when she arrives with my father in the morning.”
Cassie and Holly both winced and I adored them for it. It was always good to have friends who got it.
Holly bumped a switch and the steam wand kicked on, turning the silver pitcher of almond milk into a fluffy, warm dream I could wra
p myself in before hunkering down to work. I started to pull out my debit card but Cassie shooed my hand away when I tried to pass it over the counter. “It’s on the house. An early Christmas gift.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Fine, but you can’t stop me from doing this,” I insisted, digging out a couple of bills from my wallet and dropping them into their tip jar.
“Thanks, Scarlet.”
Holly snapped the lid on my latte and handed it over with a knowing smile. “We’ve got pretty much everything wrapped up around here. Want to sit with us while we wait for the clock to wind down?”
“Sure.”
Cassie grabbed a ceramic mug covered in painted red mittens and took it to one of the two percolators. She pulled the lever and an amber liquid filled her cup. The savory scent of apple and cinnamon mingled with the lingering espresso and Cassie raised the mug to her nose and breathed deeply. “Is there anything more festive than hot apple cider?” she asked, a dreamy look in her eyes.
Holly grinned and retrieved a travel mug from beside the espresso machine. “I don’t know, you’ll have to take that up with the pumpkin-spice people.”
Looking at me, Cassie asked, “Looks like you’ll have to be the tie breaker, Scarlet.”
I held up my latte. “What can I say, I’m a hazelnut gal any time of year.”
“Boo!” Cassie jeered, a grin on her face.
Before I could defend my position, the door opened, sending a chilly blast rippling through the shop. I tucked my chin into my coat, protecting the back of my neck from the frosty blast of air.
“Good evening,” Holly said, setting her mug back down. She brushed her hands off on the front of her apron as she returned to her place at the cash register. “How may I help you, ladies?”
Three women trooped into the shop, vacant stares on their wind-burnt faces. Having spent the entire day weaving in and out of an outdoor shopping mall, I knew the look of my fellow last-minute shoppers well. They were haggard and suffering through a bout of festivity fatigue.
The tallest of the three stood in the center and was the first to approach the counter. She tried a smile, but it was tight and dull. “I think we’ll take three pumpkin spice lattes. Extra shots in all three, please.”
Holly rang it up and then gave Cassie a meaningful smile. Although, clearly none of the women were in the mood to argue the merits of their preferred holiday beverage. Once the women paid, they shuffled to the other end of the counter even though there was no one waiting behind them. Or in the entire shop, for that matter. They’d hit the bottom of their fuel tanks and switched over to coasting. Since all of them looked to be in their early to mid-thirties, I imagined they all had children at home and a laundry list that could beat mine up and take its lunch money.
I lingered at the bakery case. Despite my surplus of things to do, it was nice being away from the shop. My apartment was right above the retail and studio space of my flower shop, so even when I was home, it wasn’t much different than being at work. Besides the local take-out restaurants, I hadn’t gone much of anywhere over the past few weeks. If Holly and Cassie had time to sit and chat for a few minutes, I was willing to hang around. My mother would just have to accept that there were dust bunnies under my couch. And yes, she was the type who would likely check when she figured I wasn’t looking. That was another perk to having ghosts swirling at all times. Flapjack would no doubt give me a full report.
“I just hope they will help the kids sleep tonight,” the taller woman was saying when Holly killed the steam wand.
“Ugh. No kidding. Am I a terrible mother for wanting to slip some brandy in Garfield’s bottle?” the brunette asked with a sheepish smile.
“No. But you are a horrible mother for naming your child Garfield,” a mocking voice interjected.
I cringed and then shot a stern look across the counter to where a silvery-purple Himalayan sat casually cleaning its whiskers. “Flapjack,” I hissed in a whisper, turning my head away from the trio of worried moms.
“What?” He paused, his fluffy paw lifted to his mouth. “You know I’m right.”
That was really beside the point.
I looked at Holly and saw her lips curled in, trying to smother a laugh. Despite my multiple requests-slash-orders that he stay away from the coffee house, Holly informed me that my once-childhood-pet turned talking ghost cat, was a regular visitor who liked to sit on the counter and crack jokes about the patrons most afternoons.
“Well, if that makes you horrible, then I’m a full-fledged monster. I’ve been thinking about putting noise-cancelling headphones on, popping open a bottle of wine, and pretending the kids don’t exist long enough to take a bubble bath.”
The other two moms gave sympathetic laughs.
Holly smiled at the women and passed over the first latte. “Are your kiddos prepping for all-night Santa patrol on Christmas Eve?”
The shortest woman shook her head and accepted the latte. “They’re terrified of Santa!”
The smile dropped from Holly’s lips. “Oh? How come?”
Flapjack stretched. “I’ll bet they got one look at that hobo they hired to play Santa down by the carousel and decided they’d rather go without presents than have him climb down the chimney.”
I rolled my eyes at him. A city council member’s out-of-work nephew was playing the local Santa this year. Marvin was a little rough around the edges, but Flapjack’s characterization was hardly fair.
I made a mental note to lecture the snarky feline on the merits of charity and goodwill, especially this time of year, a little later, though it wouldn’t get me very far.
“It started a couple of nights ago,” the tall woman started, heaving a sigh before continuing. “My son, Bradley, told me that he saw someone outside his window. We checked all over, but couldn’t find any sign of footprints in the snow in the yard or around the house. We figured it was just a bad dream and tried to move on.”
“But then, the next day, my daughter Izzy was having the same issue. The kids were talking about it the next morning at the skating rink.”
The last woman nodded. “My son, Dwayne said he saw someone and he has it in his head that it was Santa. But, not the happy, jolly version from the movies. He’s had the same nightmare three nights in a row. We’ve tried everything, but around midnight, he wakes up screaming.”
The other two women nodded, clearly it sounded familiar.
“Poor little guys,” Holly said, her lips twisted into a pensive expression.
“Only a couple more nights until Christmas. Hopefully a pile of shiny presents will take their minds off this boogeyman,” the taller woman said.
“I imagine that will do the trick.” Holly smiled and handed over the final latte.
The women thanked her and then turned to leave. Cassie rounded the counter and followed a few steps behind the trio as they made their way out of the coffee shop. It was five minutes past closing, so when they were a little way down the sidewalk, she locked the front door and flipped over the wooden sign to the closed side.
“Holly, I’m going to get a jump on the payroll. Scarlet, if I don’t see you before Christmas, I hope you have a good one.”
“Thanks, Cassie.” I smiled. “You too.”
She twinkled her fingers and then disappeared into the back.
Holly watched her go and then slowly shifted her gaze to me. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Erm, well, I doubt it. I was wondering how much of a fit my mother would pitch if I copped out and used gift bags this year.”
Holly giggled but it faded quickly. “Actually, I was thinking about what those mothers were saying. About their kid’s night terrors. What are the odds that three separate kids would have the same nightmare in one night?”
I took a long sip and shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know. If they all talked about it, maybe it was a power-of-suggestion kind of thing.”
I narrowed my eyes when she didn’t look convinced. “You don�
�t think it’s a…” I trailed off, glancing at the arched entry to the back room to make sure Cassie wasn’t coming back out. She and Holly were best friends, but she had no idea about Holly’s powers or my own. “A ghost?” I finished, daring a whisper.
“I don’t know. It seems suspicious.” Holly shifted her gaze to the front window, staring at the snow furling in the pools of light cast by the street lamps.
Flapjack yawned. “You ask me, some mall Santa went on a bender and wandered through the wrong neighborhood on his way back home.”
“They said they checked for footprints in the snow outside and didn't find any,” I hurried to point out. “Pretty sure a drunk wouldn't have been so careful.”
“I think I know what’s going on,” Holly said, meeting my gaze. “Have you ever heard of the Red Snowman?”
Chapter Two
“The Red Snowman?”
Holly glanced over her shoulder, ensuring we were still alone. “He’s a little bit of a legend, but his calling card is a rash of nightmares. And he only ever comes out at Christmas time.”
I held up a hand. “Okay, hold on. What are you talking about? Is he an actual snowman?”
Holly laughed. “No, no. He’s an elf.”
“Obviously, Scar,” Flapjack quipped, flicking his tail.
I scowled at him. “Like you’ve heard of him.”
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