...the good, the bad, and the romance.
Penny & Tripp got their happily ever after, but the gypsy magic isn’t quite finished with the women in Penny’s family. Their daughter, Mabel, is unlucky in love—repeatedly—but best friend, Sam, is always there to pick up the pieces.
Corralled in the friend zone, Sam waits for Mabel to return his feelings. It might take an unexpected visit to the Wild West, and a little magic for Mabel to see what’s been in front of her the whole time. Unless the sexy sheriff lassos her heart before Sam can make his bid.
Exerpt
Sam.
I rose from the tub and sluiced most of the water off my skin, keeping a wary eye on the door. I wrapped the flannel around my waist and tucked the tail. Next, I held the pants up to my body. Not only were they too short, they’d almost fit two of me. Mabel must have forgotten the shirt, so I sat in the chair and pulled on the socks.
The front door burst open, and my pants hit me in the face.
“Quick, get dressed. There’s someone coming up the driveway,” Mabel hissed.
I stood. “You forgot the shirt and I still need boots.”
She came over and spun me toward the bedroom. Hands touched my back then flew away as if burned before settling again and giving me a solid push. “Hurry up. I don’t know if I’ll need you in this scene or not. Your mom always used to read ahead so my mom would at least have some idea what would happen. Just listen from in here until I figure out if this is the bad guy or my love interest.” With one last shove she removed her hands and pulled the door nearly closed.
I pulled on my pants and found a shirt in a wooden dresser. Boots? I scanned the sparse room. Maybe her father was buried in them. I bent and flipped the edge of the quilt. Under the bed sat a pair of worn square-toe cowboy boots and, to my relief, a shotgun and box of shells.
The boots fit as well as someone else’s boots could be expected to fit, but at least they didn’t pinch. I pulled out the rifle and shells and set them on the bed. Would I be expected to shoot someone? Thanks to Mabel’s dad, I was a pretty fair shot with a variety of firearms. I froze, stunned.
Mabel could shoot, too. We could both throw axes, fence, and use recurve and crossbows. Her dad set up a range in the backyard. I thought he was just into weapons. For the first time I wondered if perhaps he had another purpose for trying to turn all us kids into little warriors.
