Today‘s Frugal Find Under Nine:
Description of Six Times a Charm:
Six sexy, exciting, laugh-out-loud books from some of the top names in paranormal romance. Enjoy:
• Haunted on Bourbon Street by Deanna Chase
• The Accidental Demon Slayer by Angie Fox
• Carpe Demon by Julie Kenner
• Girl’s Guide to Witchcraft by Mindy Klasky
• How to Date a Werewolf by Rose Pressey
• Easy Bake Coven by Liz Schulte
Individual books each have at least one hundred 4- and 5-star reviews (some have even more!). Three of the books are NY Times bestsellers. One is a USA Today bestseller.
A blend of sophistication and wit that has you laughing out loud!” – Charlaine Harris
The Accidental Demon Slayer:
“Fabulously fun!” – The Chicago Tribune
Girl’s Guide to Witchcraft:
“A zany blend of fantasy and romance.” – Booklist
Six Times a Charm currently has an Amazon reader review rating of 4.8 stars from 14 reviews. Read the reviews here.
An excerpt from Six Times a Charm:
When I opened the door to greet my grandmother for the very first time, I’m not sure what I was expecting. I know I hadn’t envisioned an apple-shaped woman in a Kiss My Asphalt T-shirt, with windburned cheeks and a sagging tattoo of a phoenix on her arm. But what I really didn’t bargain for was a brief hug, followed by a forceful shove that had me landing firmly on my butt on the cold, black-and-white checked floor of my hall bathroom.
“Let me out of here!” I twisted the bathroom doorknob until I wrenched my wrist. How the frig did this happen? One minute I was answering my door, and the next I had landed booty over tea kettle on tile that was about two weeks overdue for a good scrubbing.
“Buck up, sugar cake.” My grandma’s chunky silver rings clinked against the other side of the door, and her gravelly voice sounded like she’d spent the last century breathing semi-truck exhaust. “This is for your own good.”
My own good? In what world could she know what was good for me? I’d never even heard from my mom’s mom until she called me the day before. The next thing I knew, she was flying to Atlanta to meet me. I had assumed that meant air travel, not the hot pink Harley parked in my driveway.
I kicked the door with all my strength. “Ouchie!” I hollered as pain seared my foot. Dang it all. Three years of teaching at Happy Hands Preschool and I couldn’t even cuss right. I limped in circles, the pointed toe of my simple black heel curled up like an elf shoe.
Why tonight, of all nights, did this have to happen?
Grandma chuckled. “Why, Lizzie Brown—kickin’ and a hollerin’. Thank heaven my grandbaby has spunk. I know you’re hacked to Hades, princess. But trust me. If I let you out now, you’d wreck all your pretty furniture.”
She’d obviously cracked her head on the pavement one too many times. As for ruining my Pottery Barn knockoff furniture, my pathetic excuse for a watchdog would take care of that. Pirate, my Jack Russell Terrier, tended to piddle at the first sign of trouble. I pounded against the door until my hands throbbed. Of all the dumb things to do, I had to let a stranger into my house.
Was I that desperate for affection?
Probably. My adoptive parents, Cliff and Hillary, meant well. But they weren’t exactly warm and fuzzy. They didn’t even like to touch each other. So, sue me, it felt good—even if it was a little forced—when my biological grandmother hugged me for the first time.
“Levitis cadre. Familio, madre,” she chanted like a deranged monk.
“Cut it out! Today is my thirtieth birthday, and I’m going to be late for my party if you don’t open this door. Now!” Let’s face it. I couldn’t go out much on my salary. Happy Hands Preschool wasn’t exactly raking in the big bucks. And the one night out of the year where I could count on all of my friends to be dateless and available, this geriatric biker had to take me prisoner.
She rapped her knuckles on her side of the door. As if I were going anywhere. “Lizzie dear? You have ridden a bike before?” she asked, as if I’d taken Hog 101 in high school.
Had she seen my cream-on-white front room? “Yeah, um. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m more of an indoor girl.” Not that I was against motorcycles, in theory. But if Grandma thought I was going to hoist my rear end up on the back of her hog, a pot hole had knocked something loose in her head.
“Well, Lizzie, the thing is…” She paused to find the right words to say whatever it was I was sure I didn’t want to hear. She cleared her throat. “Our coven’s on the run.”
Oh lordy. “You think you’re a witch?”
“Am a witch, darlin’. So was your mother. And if I wasn’t such a damned good witch, all hell wouldn’t be after us. I don’t have time to spell it out for you right now, but do you own any leather chaps?”
Yeah, hanging right next to my white capri pants. “No!”
“Well, that bites,” she said. “Life on the road can chafe your thighs.”
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