Head Witch in Charge

When two witches with a tangled history are forced to team up, it spells disaster in this steamy rom-com from It’s the curse of every family’s heir to be the responsible one. My family being the most powerful family in all of Witchingdom doesn’t eliminate that fact, it only makes it worse--and that’s why I, Leona Amber Sherwood, never do the unexpected. Except for that Believe me, I have rued the day that I got married in a midnight ceremony under a full moon to Erik Svensen, the heir to my family’s deepest, bitterest enemies, and now, he won’t agree to a divorce unless we return an ancient spell book to his family’s secured facility. But on our road trip to return the book, I learn more about Erik as we encounter trolls, nymphs, satyrs, and more. The longer we work together, the more I’m convinced that he might not be the evil trickster I assumed he was. Any more time together will leave me even more enchanted with my husband and that’s the last thing I want. And if I keep telling myself that, maybe I''ll start to believe it.

Autorentext
USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestselling romance author Avery Flynn has three slightly wild children, loves a hockey-addicted husband, and is desperately hoping someone invents the coffee IV drip. She lives outside of Washington, D.C., with her family, Dwight the cat, and a pack of five dogs all named after food. If she’s not reading romance or binging reality TV, she’s most definitely plotting to take over the world so she can banish Crocs from existence.

Klappentext

*INSTANT USA TODAY* BESTSELLER!

When two witches with a tangled history are forced to team up, it spells disaster in this steamy rom-com from USA Today bestselling author Avery Flynn.**

It’s the curse of every family’s heir to be the responsible one. My family being the most powerful family in all of Witchingdom doesn’t eliminate that fact, it only makes it worse—and that’s why I, Leona Amber Sherwood, never do the unexpected. Except for that one time I did.

Believe me, I have rued the day that I got married in a midnight ceremony under a full moon to Erik Svensen, the heir to my family’s deepest, bitterest enemies, and now, he won’t agree to a divorce unless we return an ancient spell book to his family’s secured facility.

But on our road trip to return the book, I learn more about Erik as we encounter trolls, nymphs, satyrs, and more. The longer we work together, the more I’m convinced that he might not be the evil trickster I assumed he was. Any more time together will leave me even more enchanted with my husband and that’s the last thing I want. And if I keep telling myself that, maybe I'll start to believe it.

Leseprobe
Chapter One

Leona Sherwood . . .

A year ago . . .

Ever wake up and realize from the moment you open your eyes that this is the day when everything is going to go wrong?

You know what I’m talking about, right?

It’s the kind of day when you get shampoo in your eye, nick your shin with the razor, and trip over your sister’s rooster (literally) when you’re walking out of the shower.

The next thing you know, you are buck naked on your belly all but kissing the hardwood floorboards because you went ass over teakettle. Sure, a quickly whispered gentle-fall spell saves you from face-planting completely and breaking your nose in the process, but your triumph only lasts a moment because that’s when the stupid rooster decides to stand right on your big, round, naked ass.

Just let that sit with you for a minute.

Four toes that each go in a different direction—three of which are tipped with little claws and one with a gnarly and sharp upturned spur—on your bare flesh. Creepy, gross, weirdly human-skin-feeling rooster feet on your butt.

I’m telling you, some days are just like this. The thing is, for me, I can’t ever let anyone know I have those days because everyone—including my family, who I love dearly—has to believe that I’m calm, cool, and collected at all times.

Why? Because I’m Leona Sherwood, the witch who will someday lead the most powerful magical family in all of Witchingdom, the Sherwoods. Yep. That’s right. I’ll be the head witch in charge—whether I want to be or not.

As such, there are certain expectations about how I should act, how I must speak, and how I have to breathe—at least that’s how it feels sometimes.

Also, being the Sherwood heir means I have responsibilities and expectations. I have to get it right the first time, and I have to set the example for all my sisters—which is why I can’t give in to the urge right now to let my forehead thump against the floor repeatedly because of this cursed day.

As Mother always says, a Sherwood never admits defeat. A Sherwood keeps their chin pointing upward, their icy gaze unflinching, and their intimidation factor setting on one billion—all while making it look easy, because we never let them see us sweat.

It’s not exactly a family mantra, but it has been drilled into my head since I was three and cast my first spell. So there is no way my sister Bea’s rooster familiar and his nasty feet are going to beat me.

“Barkley,” I say, making my voice as intimidating as possible, which I admit is about a tenth as scary as my mom’s. “Get off my ass or I’m going to magic you into fried chicken.”

The miserable rooster crows a complaining cock-a-doodle-doo but hops off my butt.
“I’d ask,” my mom says from the direction of my door, which I swear I’d closed, “but I’m afraid the explanation is more than I would want to process.”

I look up, and there’s my mom in all her regal perfection without a single thread of her reddish-tinged blond hair out of place. She narrows her blue eyes. They’re the same Caribbean Sea shade as my right eye, while my left is the same mossy green color as my dad’s. She is—as always—assessing the situation and sussing out the advantages.

Her shoulders are back, her spine unbending, and her serene smile unbothered.

As the head of the Sherwood family, she is one of the most powerful witches in all of Witchingdom. And she unnerves everyone—including (to a lesser extent) me and my four sisters. And it’s her size six-and-a-half shoes I will be filling when I take over as the family matriarch.

Mom whispers a few words in Latin and waves her fingers. The peanut butter scent of her magic fills the room a half second before her spell lifts me and twirls me around. A robe appears out of nowhere and wraps itself around me. Then I’m carried through the air and deposited on the overstuffed chair by my bedroom’s bay window.

“Now, that’s much better,” Mom says as she gracefully walks into my room. “We need to discuss your options.”

“For lunch?” I ask hopefully, knowing full well that is very much not what she meant.

She frowns and sits down on the chair across from me, doing a little hand wave and making a small table appear that is covered in all the fixings for a high tea. There are scones, clotted cream, little crustless sandwiches, square bite-sized cakes, and my favorite strawberry preserves. I like strawberries because I love tart and sweet tastes together at the same time—it’s my jam.

Ha! You get it?

Okay, fine, I’m not the funny Sherwood sister. That’s my older sister, Effie. She has the snark on lockdown and has all the benefits of being the eldest Sherwood…