Paranormal Women's Fiction Series Starter ebook Bundle

Sample From Witch Way After Forty
Alys

My first thought when seeing the naked blonde riding my husband in our bed was, Of course, the selfish ass insisted she is on top. Never mind that those clearly artificial double Ds were bound to cause her slight frame serious back pain in a few years. He wasn’t much for manual labor. Not old Kyle. His idea of getting a workout involved mowing the lawn or shoveling the driveway. Which he never did well and I was usually forced to go back over it to clean up the sloppy job.
In some shadowy corner of my mind, I recognized that it probably wasn’t normal to feel sympathy for the woman boinking your spouse.
Then again, I’d known it was coming.
Just like Kyle was about to. I could tell by the way his face turned red and he bucked beneath her spastically.
The hell with that. He hadn’t respected me enough to keep his side dish on the side, well, then he could just deal with blue balls.
The bedroom door was open so I strode in, doing my best to keep from snagging a heel in the filmy bits of lace that obviously didn’t belong to me. Perhaps when I was three, I could have fit that size. Then again, I might have had a Barbie once that could wear those skivvies.
What was this woman even doing with Kyle? It seemed like a pertinent question so I tapped her on the shoulder. “You know, honey, you can do better.”
She screamed and scrambled off of him, about two seconds before Kyle was about to nut. I reached down and grabbed him by the balls and twisted. I’d boil my hand later. Or maybe chew it off.
For his part, Kyle’s groan turned to one of sheer agony. “Alys,” he gasped.
“Oh, you remember me?” My tone was even, almost bored.
“Who’s this?” Blondie asked.
“His wife. I’d offer a handshake but mine are busy at the moment.”
The woman’s big green eyes went from me to Kyle, whose skin had flushed purple. His whole body shook. “You know it costs more for another girl, don’t you?”
Her accent was clear New Jersey. That combined with the fact that I had never seen her before topped with her mention of cost had me turning back to the worm in my bed. “A prostitute, Kyle? Seriously?”
He made a gargling noise and I sank my nails in, just a little.
My sister had told me Kyle was a bastard-coated bastard with bastard filling. I should have listened.
“You ought to leave,” I nodded to the dental floss that passed for her undergarments.
“Nu-uh,” Blondie folded her arms over her implants. “Not ‘til I get my scratch.”
I sighed. “How much?”
“Four hundred.”
I raised a brow. “Seriously? For what, twenty minutes of work? Considering how he performs you would have time for a shower after.”
She reached for her bra and I had a moment of envy when her breasts didn’t alter an iota as she snapped it on. “I charge double for the uggos. Plus, there’s the drive.”
The gurgling sound Kyle made when Blondie called him an uggo was worth four hundred bucks. My purse was downstairs in the hallway, but Kyle’s Rolex was on the nightstand. With my left hand, I retrieved it and lobbed it to her. “Keep it.”
“Do I look like a pawn shop to you?”
Her words didn’t fool me. I could see her assessing the watch and the gleam in her eye. The watch was worth a lot more than four hundred.
“It’s the best you’re gonna get. He’s in no position to finish, so unless you want to wait around until he recovers….” I smiled sweetly at the puce color of my husband’s face.
She pulled her micromini up and then threw on a jacket. “I’m good.”
I released Kyle the moment the front door shut behind her. He curled onto his side in the fetal position. Fitting, since he was such a big baby.
I didn’t say a word. Instead, I kicked off my heels and turned to the bathroom. I let the water run as hot as it could go, then used half a bottle of antibacterial soap. For the record, that was the last time I was touching that man’s privates. The thought filled me with a giddy sort of relief.
The signs had been there for months. Internet porn had been constant throughout the marriage and easy enough to ignore. But then the credit card charges had popped up. Sites that were clearly shell companies with BS names to protect privacy. Phone calls to numbers I didn’t know. Him never going to bed at the same time as me. I thought it had been a run-of-the-mill affair, something middle-aged men did to prove they were just as young and virile as they had once been.
In Kyle’s case, the bar wasn’t set too high. It was probably even lower now, between Blondie’s dismount and my claws. I hadn’t drawn blood, but the thought of leaving him emasculated was far too tempting.
If he had been discreet, I could have gone on feigning ignorance. But he’d forced me into this position, into being the victim, the foolish wife.
The thing that hurt most was my pride. And in my book, that was unforgivable.
I stared at my reflection, at the crow’s feet lining my eyes, the silver that had overtaken the black in my short bob, and winter pale skin which was even paler than usual. I pinched a little color into my cheeks, then turned to the medicine cabinet. After sorting through its contents, I scooped what I needed into one hand and then carried it out to the bedroom.
Kyle had extracted himself from the bed and pulled on a pair of sweats. “You can’t honestly be surprised, Alys.”
I didn’t bother to look at him as I snagged my overnight bag from the top of the closet. My toiletry bag was inside and I took the time to separate the liquids from the pills, from the make-up brushes. Everything in its place. Don’t let him see the wound.
“When was the last time we even had sex?” Kyle sounded triumphant, as though he had just scored a point.
I tapped my chin as though contemplating the question and then shrugged. “I really couldn’t say, Kyle. Seeing as it wasn’t all that memorable.”
His brown eyes narrowed. “You’re a frigid old bitch.”
I went back to my packing, trying to figure out what exactly I would need for my new Kyle-free life. Clothes for work, both demo and client meetings. Jeans, sweatshirts, and work boots as well as twinsets, slacks, and heels. And it was fall now, heading toward winter. What about a coat and snow boots? Maybe I’d have to get another bag out of the attic. The thought made me tired. I just wanted to leave the house that I had lived in for twenty years and never really liked, and not look back.
“I should have kicked you to the curb years ago.” Clearly irritated that even his blatant act of defiance didn’t get my undivided attention, Kyle began to rant in classic dipshit monologue.
No to the slog to the attic, I decided. I’d come back with Maeve at some point and get the rest of it. When I was in a better place to deal with this crap. Keep it simple. Think capsule wardrobe. Black pairs with anything. Neutrals are good too. I added two pairs of slacks, a twinset, and three different blouses along with the set of black heels I had been wearing and then crammed as many jeans and sweats on top as I could fit. Making swift decisions always helped fuel me so I zipped the bag, snagged my e-reader off my nightstand, my jewelry box from the top of the dresser, and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Kyle called as I descended the grand staircase to the bottom floor. He chased me down, looking none too healthy. I hoped he wouldn’t have a heart attack. I didn’t want to stick around long enough to let the EMTs in.
At that, I rounded on him. “If I’m so awful, why not just go file for divorce like a decent human being?”
His lips parted but he didn’t say anything. We both knew why. He liked having money. Liked the lavish lifestyle my business had afforded us. He’d retired early and that was when the trouble began.
“You’re not getting a dime.” Thankfully Aunt Jess had taught me to keep my finances separate from my spouse’s.
“It’s half mine,” he snarled.
“Like hell it is. You spent every dollar you made on this mausoleum.” Done with him, I turned to the door.
He folded his arms over his chest. “Do you really want the entire town to know that I paid a prostitute for sex?”
I froze with my hand on the door and a sliver of fear ran down my spine.
He pushed on. “Think of the gossip. Alys Stevens can’t hold her man.”
My heart pounded and for a moment I was afraid I would be the one to pass out. “You can have the house. And your damn Corvette. But no money.”
“We’ll see.” He looked smug.
I should have gelded him when I’d had the chance.
****
Sample of of Midlife Magic Mirror
Some days I had the adulting thing down. Then there were days I spit toothpaste in my own hair.
“What the shit?”
Shifting my binder, phone, shoulder bag, and umbrella to my left side, I fumbled with the keys, wondering if I had used the wrong one. Why else wouldn’t it fit in the lock? I’d color-coded each bow with different nail polish to keep exactly that from happening. Mysterious Purple for the garage, Crimson Skies for the office I never used for anything but storage, and Golden Sands for the storage locker that held my surplus projects. It had been a very long day and my mind was back at the college campus where I’d just left my son for the start of his freshman fall semester.
I squinted at the key, already on the verge of panic. I lost things. Important things. More often than I wanted to admit. Nope, that was the key with Seafoam painted on the flat. The binder with all the fabric samples fell out of my hand and landed face-down in a puddle as I attempted to reinsert the key. Frustration made tears mingle with the rain.
Okay, self, deep breath. Focus. All I wanted was to get out of these wet clothes, pour a glass of wine, and sit in my oversized bathtub until I thawed out. Why, today of all days, did everything have to be so frigging difficult?
“Because you have ADHD,” I muttered the answer to my own question. “Because your frigging brain makes everything more frigging difficult, Donna.”
The brain I’d had for forty-four years was neurodivergent. The diagnosis was relatively new. I hadn’t been a disruptive child who bounced off the walls during class. I didn’t make scenes and didn’t disrupt the other students. Even if my mother would have listened to conventional advice, there had been no need to go to a doctor or try out a prescription. No, I just quietly read what I wanted to read instead of the things I was supposed to be reading. I quietly developed my ways to cope with hyperfocus, tuning out, and time blindness. I quietly slipped through the cracks.
In its own way, my wonky brain had done me a solid. It forced me to develop coping strategies to function. My key method hadn’t failed me before so clearly, something else was amiss.
Warm rain beat down on my umbrella and ran in rivulets around me as I crouched down to study the doorknob. The brass doorknob. I stared at it for a long moment, trying to reconcile what I was seeing. The knob was new. As in brand-spanking new. No gouges or scratches from fumbling with keys. It was also ugly and didn’t quite cover the unpainted section the previous oil-rubbed bronze had because it had been oval, not circular.
“What the hell is going on here?” Could there have been some sort of accident? A tree fell through the front door, smashing the old handle and lock set. Yeah, I could picture that. If so, why hadn’t Lewis called me to let me know what had happened?
After shifting a load of stuff to one hand, I tried my husband’s cell. Straight to voicemail. He’d left the campus early, stating he had things to do for work. I had wanted to lean on him on the day that had tied my insides into anxious knots, sending my lone chick out to fly the nest. But Lewis wasn’t the strong supportive type of husband. Most of the time I had to work around him. Better for everyone that he’d left.
A gust of wind almost ripped my umbrella from my hands. Ridiculous. I could just go in through the garage door. The mystery of the changed lock could wait until I had a big glass of sweet red coursing through my system. Glaring at the shitty door knob one last time, I slogged my way down the concrete steps and over the garden path to the garage door. All the fine hairs stood up on my neck when I saw the twin to the front door lock with an accompanying deadbolt barring my way.
I tried Lewis again. When his voicemail picked up right away, I left a terse message. “It’s Donna. I’m locked out of the house. Call me as soon as you get this.”
Thunder rumbled overhead and I shivered. Water had soaked through my sneakers and my socks were soggy. No one was out on our street so at least no one was witnessing my humiliation. Then again, it would be nice if one of my neighbors invited me out of the storm to wait.
I could sit in my car. The little silver Impala had heat. Or I could drive into town, maybe go to the coffee shop and wait for Lewis to turn on his damn phone. But my wine and bathtub were on the other side of those accursed locks. This was my home, damn it. My refuge from the world. Something I badly needed.
If I’d been younger, less stressed, or had less of a wonky brain, I might have made another decision. But I was cold and wet and sad and just done.
Fuck it, I would break into my own house.
The patio door that overlooked the backyard was a slider. The natural choice. It would be a pain in the ass to replace. But I’d spring for the double French doors I’d always wanted and Lewis would just have to suck up the cost.
Clutching my umbrella in one hand, I went to the paver walkway I’d started putting in a few months ago and hadn’t gotten around to finishing. The bricks were stacked in a heap and I snagged one off the top, knocking several others into a mud puddle. Because of the work that I did moving boxes and bins and furniture, I was stronger than I looked for a plus-sized middle-aged mom. A healthy shot of annoyance helped to fuel my throw. The brick sailed through the air like a missile and hit the sliding glass door dead center. Glass exploded inwards, pebbling the way it was supposed to do for the sake of safety instead of breaking into massive shards.
The alarm started blaring.
Pleased with the result, I hurried forward to shut it off. Once I punched in the code that let our security company know that all was well, I’d cover the hole. There should still be some plywood in the garage. I would just get it and drill it into the door frame….
My thoughts stopped dead in their tracks when I spotted them. Lewis, pants around his ankles, was staring at me. As was the whip cream-covered tart who had her bare ass perched on my granite countertops.
We all just looked at each other for a long moment.
“Are you crazy?” Lewis’s thick dark eyebrows drew together as he broke the silence.
“My key didn’t work.” It was a stupid thing to say. To shout actually since the alarm was still going off.
The woman smirked at me. “And you didn’t take the hint?”
The sound of her voice, so familiar even though I had never met her in person, burst the surreal bubble. “So, this is what was so important, Lewis? This is what you had to do instead of spending the day with your son. You had to bang your frigging secretary in my frigging kitchen? What’s the rush, Lewis? The Viagra gonna wear off?”
Lewis flushed to his receding hairline and struggled to fasten his trousers even as he jabbed a finger at me. “It’s over, Donna. You might as well just leave.”
“Leave?” I stared at him blankly. “Why should I leave? This is my house. I decorated it. I picked out every stick of furniture and painting. I hand-selected every rug and curtain and unlike some people, I make sure mine always match.” This last was directed at the bottle blonde with a pointed look at her crotch.
She huffed and crossed her arms, opened her mouth to retort. I wasn’t interested in anything Mindy had to say. Especially when someone started pounding on the front door.
“Shit,” Lewis muttered and then headed for the hallway, tucking in his shirt as he went. The whip cream-covered tart reached for a purple halter dress and slid it on. I stood there, dripping on the pebbled glass, glaring daggers at her and feeling….
Old. Tired. But not even a little bit surprised. I’d seen the signs for months. The late nights at the office, the sudden business trips. The not-so-subtle ways he’d shut the door to his home office to make phone calls. Maybe other men were better at hiding their affairs, but not Lewis. Or maybe it was my wonky brain making me more aware of his emotions. In retrospect, I wondered if he’d wanted to be caught. Deep down we both knew he was a coward. He avoided conflict. Hell, the passive-aggressive little stain had changed the locks to my freaking house instead of admitting he didn’t want to be married any longer. I was the hothead, the ballbuster. The one with the temper who threw bricks.
There was a steady sound of beeping and then finally, the alarm shut off. My pulse pounded in my ears.
“That’s her,” Lewis said.
Glancing up I saw that he was pointing his stubby index finger at me. “She’s the one who broke in.”
My jaw dropped. “This is my house!”
The cops, two young men who didn’t appear much older than my son, exchanged a look. One picked up the brick. “Did you break this door, ma’am?”
Ma’am. Insult to injury. “Yes, but—”
“You’re coming with us,” the taller of the two said as his partner moved behind me.
“You have the right to remain silent.”
I was being read my rights. Handcuffs closed shut around my wrists. Holy hell, this was actually happening.
“Lewis,” I begged. “Tell them who I am!”
He folded his arms over his chest and said nothing. The smug little toad.
The rain had stopped by the time I was perp-marched out of my beloved home. All my neighbors were by their windows, watching as I was loaded into the back of a squad car and taken downtown.

Magical Midlife Misadventures
1. Over the Faery Hill
2. The Fae Side of Forty
3. Faery Wine

Silver Sisters
1. Prequel Witch Way or the Highway
2. Witch Way After Forty
3. Witch Way Did She Go
4. Witch Way is Up
5. Witch Way to Alaska
6. Jingle All the Witch Way
7. Witch Way Today
8. Witch Way Tomorrow
9. Witch Way Ever After

Cougars and Cauldrons
1. Midlife Bed and Broomstick
2. Midlife Hexes and Familiar Exes
3. Midlife Shift and Shenanigans
4. Midlife Passions and Predators
5. Midlife Magic and Malarkey
6. Midlife Healing and Hijinx

Legacy Witches of Shadow Cove
1. Midlife Magic Mirror
2. Midlife Magic Monster
3. Midlife Magic Malady

Start reading or listening to ebooks and audio in just 3 easy steps!

1. Purchase the ebooks or audiobooks using the email where you want to receive the items.

2. Receive the download link from Bookfunnel via email or reach out to them directly at help@bookfunnel.com

3. Send the stories to your preferred e-reader, read/ listen online, or access the stories in the Bookfunnel app!