Page 52 of Summer L.A.W.

The other witches rolled their eyes but smiled and stayed respectfully quiet.

“No. You’re right on time. And I love you too.”

The other witches lifted their coffee mugs and teacups in a silent toast. Then they began passing platters of pancakes, sausages, bacon, and eggs as their normal chatter resumed.

PART II

TROUBLE BREWING

Magda Bloomer loves being the League’s healer. She’s happiest with dirt under her nails, herbs in her hair, and a greenhouse full of healthy plants. But after watching half her witch sisters fall in love, she starts to wonder if her heart could use a little tending too. So, she decides to do something about it, combining botany and magic to brew the perfect love potion.

Unfortunately, “perfect” is not the word anyone would use to describe her results. Potion #1 made the ferns cuddle and anything not nailed down go airborne. Potion #3 caused spontaneous confessions of lust, guilt, and mistakes. By Potion #8, the mansion’s wards are twitching, and half the familiars are in therapy.

Chad sends in Dr. Sebastian Voss, a gorgeous, maddeningly logical biochemist brought in to apply “the scientific method” to Magda’s magical mishaps. He doesn’t believe in witches or potions that glow, but something about Magda’s sincerity gets under his carefully rational skin.

Together, they’ll test her formulas, challenge each other’s worldviews, and maybe stumble upon the one thing no potion can bottle: the chemistry that’s been bubbling between them all along.

Trouble Brewing

14

The mansion library looked like a cross between a Victorian salon and a coven’s pajama party. The long oval table overflowed with mugs of tea, cocoa, and the occasional spiked cider, because creative genius required proper hydration. Or, in Rayna’s case, adequate intoxication.

“Okay,” Joell said, flicking a pen like a wand. “Critique Night is officially in session. Who’s brave enough to go first?”

Brianna raised her hand, already smirking. “Strap in, ladies. We’re starting with time travel and a little bodice-ripping.”

“Oh, good,” Rayna muttered, stretching her legs under the table. “I could use some vicarious satisfaction. Adam is off on a mission.”

Brianna read her scene, voice low and dramatic. By the time her Highlander whispered, “Ye’re mine across every century, lass,” the mansion’s sconces actually flickered. Crystal fanned herself.

“Well,” Joell said, deadpan. “That’ll fog a mirror.”

“Not just the mirror,” Crystal added. “The windows are steaming.”

Rayna tipped her mug in salute. “Ten out of ten for historical accuracy, minus one for making me want to find a kilted man immediately.”

“Noted,” Brianna said, grinning. “Rayna, you’re up.”

Rayna’s excerpt featured swordplay, blood, and a half-naked major who seemed allergic to shirts. Halfway through, even Wally, Magda’s wallaby familiar, was curled under the table, thumping his tail in appreciation.

When Joell read hers, the tone shifted to sharp, clever, and darkly dangerous. Her heroine flirted with death, and death flirted right back. Crystal followed, offering a piece so soaked in sea mist and sensuality that everyone needed a towel and possibly a Coast Guard intervention.

Then it was Magda’s turn.

She cleared her throat and adjusted her glasses. “Mine’s… a work in progress.”

Joell leaned forward. “They always are. Go on.”

Magda read. Her hero and heroine shared a quiet conversation in a moonlit garden, their hands brushing as he offered her a rose. Sweet. Gentle. Subtle. When she finished, no sconces flickered. The only movement came from Wally, yawning under the table.

Rayna blinked. “Your scene needs a little more thrust. Of any kind.”

Joell nodded. “Try writing it after two glasses of wine.”

“I’ll need eight,” Magda said dryly.

Crystal offered a teasing grin. “You’re not wrong, love. Maybe it’s time you found some real-life research material.”