Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
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
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
EPILOGUE
AUTHOR’S NOTE
NANCY HERKNESS’S WHAT (VERY LITTLE) I KNOW ABOUT KNITTING LACE
FRAN BAKER’S TWIG STITCH THROW
CAROLINE LEAVITT’S KNITTING WRONG COULD BE VERY RIGHT
CINDI MYERS’S CONNECTING THREADS
RACHAEL HERRON’S FAVORITE TRICKS FOR KNITTING
BARBARA BRETTON’S TEN ORGANIZATIONS THAT CAN USE YOUR KNITTING
MARY ANNE MOHANRAJ’S MOSSY DREAMS OF SQUARES AND BOBBLES
Praise for the novels of “ONE OF TODAY’S BEST WOMEN’S FICTION AUTHORS.” —The Romance Reader
JUST DESSERTS
“A real treat.” —A Romance Review
“Good pacing and dialogue make this warmhearted story one that readers are sure to relish. The romances have both serious and funny elements. If you like lighthearted, feel-good, romantic tales, you are sure to enjoy reading Just Desserts.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“There are surprising, funny twists to this story and a lot of touching episodes to pique the emotional side . . . Highly entertaining, cleverly written, and hard to put down . . . A witty and warm read . . . I look forward to reading other novels by this author.” —Fresh Fiction
“A fun, romantic read. I enjoyed it and recommend it for all those who like a great story filled with humor and romance.”
—Midwest Book Review
“Once again Bretton produces a wonderful, heartwarming story full of strong emotion, humor, charming pets, delightful characters, and a lovely romance. There’s also a poignant secondary romance. The way Bretton brings all this to life and pulls it all together for a satisfactory conclusion is what makes her a wonderful storyteller.” —Romantic Times
JUST LIKE HEAVEN
“I laughed, I cried, I cheered . . . Bravo, Barbara Bretton . . . Another winner!” —Contemporary Romance Writers
“Just Like Heaven . . . is exactly that . . . An engaging, humorous, and tender novel.” —Romance Reader at Heart
“Bretton’s lyrical writing enthralls from the first page.”
—Romantic Times
“Peopled with an interesting cast of secondary characters, not to mention this strong couple, this one will keep you reading past your bedtime.” —BellaOnline
SOMEONE LIKE YOU
“Bretton, a master storyteller, superbly dramatizes a great range of emotions in this compelling tale.”
—Booklist (starred review)
“Readers who appreciate a powerful character study that digs deep into cause and effect will want to read Barbara Bretton’s fine, convincing tale.” —The Best Reviews
CHANCES ARE
“Alternately poignant and humorous, this contemporary romance gracefully illuminates life’s highs and lows.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Ms. Bretton provides a fine return to the Jersey Shore with this warm family drama.” —Midwest Book Review
GIRLS OF SUMMER
“Barbara Bretton is a master at touching readers’ hearts. Grab this one when it hits the shelves! A perfect ten!”
—Romance Reviews Today
“A moving romance . . . Barbara Bretton provides a deep tale of individuals struggling with caring connections of the heart.” —Midwest Book Review
“A book readers will want to savor.” —Publishers Weekly
“Insightful . . . Bretton excels at women’s fiction that engages the emotions without manipulating them . . . I highly recommend that discriminating readers pay a visit to these Girls of Summer.” —The Romance Reader
SHORE LIGHTS
“An engrossing tale of hope, promise, heartache, and misplaced dreams . . . Its uplifting message and smooth story-telling make it a pleasant read any time of year.”
—Publishers Weekly
“[A] warm, wonderful book.” —Booklist
“Her women’s fiction is well written and insightful with just the right blend of realism and romance . . . Powerful.”
—The Romance Reader
“A lovely book . . . It’s an uplifting story, warm and cozy, and easily recommended.” —All About Romance
“An absolute wonder of creative writing that comes right from Barbara Bretton’s heart. A perfect ten.”
—Romance Reviews Today
And acclaim for the other novels of
Barbara Bretton . . .
“The region of the heart is her territory.”
—Susan Elizabeth Phillips
“Soul warming . . . A powerful relationship drama [for] anyone who enjoys a passionate look inside the hearts and souls of the prime players.” —Midwest Book Review
“Bretton’s characters are always real and their conflicts believable.” —Chicago Sun-Times
“[Bretton] excels in her portrayal of the sometimes sweet, sometimes stifling ties of a small community. The town’s tight network of loving, eccentric friends and family infuses the tale with a gently comic note that perfectly balances the darker dramas of the romance.” —Publishers Weekly
“Honest, witty . . . absolutely unforgettable.” —Rendezvous
“A classic adult fairy tale.” —Affaire de Cœur
“Dialogue flows easily and characters spring quickly to life.”
—Rocky Mountain News
Titles by Barbara Bretton
LACED WITH MAGIC
CASTING SPELLS
JUST DESSERTS
JUST LIKE HEAVEN
SOMEONE LIKE YOU
CHANCES ARE
GIRLS OF SUMMER
SHORE LIGHTS
A SOFT PLACE TO FALL
AT LAST
THE DAY WE MET
ONCE AROUND
SLEEPING ALONE
MAYBE THIS TIME
ONE AND ONLY
Anthologies
THE CHRISTMAS CAT
(with Julie Beard, Jo Beverly, and Lynn Kurland)
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
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This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Copyright © 2009 by Barbara Bretton.
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PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley trade paperback edition / August 2009
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Bretton, Barbara.
Laced with magic / Barbara Bretton.—Berkley trade paperback ed.
p. cm.
eISBN : 978-1-101-10873-4
1. Women merchants—Fiction. 2. Knitting shops—Fiction. 3. Magic—Fiction.
4. Vermont—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3552. R435L33 2009
813’. 54—dc22 2009015902
http://us.penguingroup.com
For Bertrice Small, who was right
1
CHLOE
Did you ever have the feeling that you were exactly where you were meant to be, that the fates had finally got it right and the rest of your life was going to be clear sailing? That was how I felt the first time Luke MacKenzie and I kissed: like I was seeing the world through new eyes.
The first time our hands touched over a basket of alpaca roving, sparks flew. Bright silver-white sparks that shot from our fingertips and lit up the night. It was every love story I had ever read, every romantic movie I had ever wept over, all my hopes and dreams wrapped up into one tall, dark, and handsome package. It didn’t even matter that he was one hundred percent human and I was the daughter of a sorceress. I believed that now that I had finally found love, the rest would fall into place like magick.
Crazy? I wouldn’t bet against it. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, I still believed I was on my way to the story-book happy ending none of the women in my family had ever managed to achieve.
I mean, I even made a sweater for him, and every knitter on the planet knows you never knit a sweater for the one you love until you have the ring on your finger.
What was I thinking?
I guess the truth is I wasn’t thinking at all. All those romantic movies and novels I had devoured over the years hadn’t prepared me for the real thing. Luke and I had gone from zero to sixty in a nanosecond, from strangers to lovers to living together in less time than it took most people to shake hands.
But then, this wasn’t the real world. It just looked like it.
By the way, I’m Chloe Hobbs, knit shop owner and de facto mayor of Sugar Maple, a tiny little town tucked between two mountains in the northwest corner of Vermont. We’re a classic New England hamlet, famous for scenic views and great shopping, but trust me, there’s more going on in Sugar Maple than meets the eye.
Up until Luke, a former police detective from Boston, showed up in early December to investigate the drowning death of his friend Suzanne Marsden, I had been the only resident human. Well, half human, to be precise, but without magick, the sorceress side of my lineage hardly mattered.
Remember the old TV show The Munsters? Marilyn was the all-American blonde who stuck out like a sore thumb in her family of irregulars. I guess you could say that was the part I played here in Sugar Maple. When the real world came calling, I was the one who answered.
And even I had to admit I was the logical choice.
A tenth-generation witch owns the Cut & Curl across the street from my knit shop. The hardware store is run by the sweetest family of werewolves you’ll ever meet. The Sugar Maple Arts Playhouse is under the direction of shapeshifters who serve as their own repertory company. Faeries keep the Inn’s restaurant fully booked, and I guess it wouldn’t surprise you to learn that the town funeral parlor belongs to a happily married couple who happen to be vampire.
And that doesn’t count the trolls, selkies, goblins, sprites, spirits, and mountain giants who call our town home.
The unexpected success of my yarn shop had brought even more attention to Sugar Maple than our white picket fences and picturesque village green. My shop had been rated New England’s number one knitting destination two years running, and if the blogosphere had anything to do with it, we were about to make it three for three. A protective spell cast over our town by one of my ancestors made it possible for us to hide in plain sight, but when that spell started wearing down last year—well, that was when the troubles really started.
My ancestor Aerynn had fled Salem during the infamous witch hunts and found sanctuary here with other outcasts in search of a home. Aerynn was a sorceress, and she expressed her gratitude by casting a protective charm over Sugar Maple designed to keep the village safe from the sharp eyes of the real world as long as one of her female descendants walked the earth.
I was the last descendant of Aerynn and, in the eyes of almost everyone in town, pretty much a loser. Oh, they loved me, but I don’t think even my closest friends believed I would ever come through for Sugar Maple. I mean, I was almost thirty years old with no husband, no kid, and no magick. Even worse, I had no prospects of any kind. The only thing I had going for me was the ability to knit and spin like my fore-mothers, but even I didn’t think I could stockinette my way out of the mess the town was in.
And then Luke showed up and everything changed.
Who would have guessed that love would trigger my inner sorceress and awaken powers I didn’t know existed? Suddenly I had everything I had ever dreamed about: magick and love and enough yarn to last ten lifetimes.
And who would have guessed it wouldn’t be close to enough to save us?
It all began to fall apart on the day of our monthly town meeting. I’m not ashamed to admit I was grateful we moved it up two days so that it didn’t fall on the night of the full moon. Town meetings were crazy enough; they didn’t need any help from lunar forces on the loose. The snow had finally melted, and while much of the landscape was a giant trough of mud, the promise of spring was everywhere I looked.
The tourist trade had been quiet all week and I spent most of my time playing catch-up with the projects I’d let slide over the winter. (You don’t want to know how many things I had on the needles. It’s too embarrassing.) I’d been working on the edging of an Orkney Pi for what seemed like three or four lifetimes and hoped to finish it off in time for the Weekend of Lace Workshop I had planned for early May.
Lace knitting has a way of taking over a knitter’s brain. Sit down with a complicated lace pattern and I guarantee you won’t think of anything else until you finally come up for air. But that day the front door to the shop was open and the air finally smelled of spring, and not even the lure of lace could hold me.
Okay. I admit it. It wasn’t so much spring fever that made me close down the shop early and pull Luke away from his desk in the police station next door; it was more the sense that something was slipping away from us and I didn’t know exactly what it was, much less how to stop it.
Actually it felt more like a certainty. The knowledge that the first part of our journey was over and now the hard part was about to begin.
My surrogate mo
ther, Sorcha, had warned me that there would be trouble ahead. “Let him go, daughter,” she had said. “I’m too late to keep you from falling in love with him but not too late to keep you from ruining his life.”
I refused to believe that loving me could ruin Luke’s life. I wasn’t blind to all he would be giving up if he decided to stay in Sugar Maple permanently. His family and friends were down in Boston. His normal warm-blooded human family who loved him and missed him and wanted him to marry another normal warm-blooded human and have kids and settle in one of the nearby suburbs.
Luke’s contract with the state would expire in a little over a month and we still hadn’t talked about whether he would sign on as Sugar Maple’s permanent chief of police. Last week the powers-that-be in Montpelier contacted me about a few of their own candidates that had literally made my blood run cold. I guess it was naïve of me, but I’d assumed that since we were a couple, Luke would want the job. I mean, it wasn’t like there was much call for police chiefs in our part of the state. If he wanted to be an alpha cop, we were pretty much his best bet.
I knew I should talk to him about it. The villagers had been asking about his plans since the day he drove into town. It would be nice to finally have an answer for them.
Which, of course, was a total lie. I wanted the answer for myself and I wanted it to be yes.
And it would be yes. I knew it would be. Except for the whole magick/human problem, we were perfect for each other. We made each other laugh. We listened to each other’s stories. I loved the way he looked and smelled and sounded. I loved the feel of his hands on me when we made love, the look in his eyes just before he kissed me.
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