Matchmaking can be murder...
Danika
Dreary’s life is a certified dumpster fire. After her latest
soul-crushing crisis, Danika moves in with her delightfully quirky
grandma, Elsie, who believes crystals are a girl's best friend.
The
biggest downside? Danika must work at Karma Moon in the quaint town of
Mystique, California. Except this is no ordinary new-age shop, it’s also
where Elsie plays matchmaker to the town's hopeless romantics.
When
Ryker Van Allan demands a refund after his best friend gets stood
up—true love comes with a money-back guarantee—Elsie and Danika are
stunned. And thanks to Danika's built-in lie detector, she knows Ryker's
telling the truth.
The
next day, the no-show woman is murdered, and Elsie becomes the prime
suspect. Danika can’t let Grandma trade her cozy cardigans for an orange
jumpsuit. But in a town where everyone has secrets, Danika can’t throw a
tarot card without hitting a potential suspect.
With
the clock ticking, Danika must clear Elsie’s name, survive retail hell,
and maybe even find a place where she truly belongs.
~ HEXES & HIJINKS EXCERPT by Sherry Soule ~
I hesitated outside Grandma Elsie’s new-age shop, Karma
Moon, with one hand hovering over the doorknob and dread twisting in my gut.
The overcast sky darkened, the scent of pine wafting on the
autumn breeze. A light rain sprinkled my red Mini-Cooper snugged up to the
curb, which could use a wash. I’d just driven two hours in traffic from Modesto
and bug guts and bird poop had splattered the windshield.
I jiggled the shop’s doorknob, but it remained shut tight.
My knuckles rapped on the door, then I peered through the stained-glass window
into the dark building. A neon sign—a psychic hand with stars around it—affixed
to the window pitched a pink glow into the main store area.
Huh. I tugged my phone from my purse and dialed
Grandma Elsie. The call went straight to an answering machine and I hung up,
dropping the cell into my bag.
Was it too much to hope that Grandma had finally embraced
modern technology and learned how to use a cell phone? Probably. The woman
still used a rotary phone.
Main Street appeared deserted. The other businesses, antique
shops, galleries, and cafes, closed and silent. Historical towns like Mystique,
California shut down by nine o’clock. A touristy, mountain town so small there
wasn’t even a mall or movie theater. Surrounding the area were gold mines,
wineries, and the Sierra Foothills, a national forest that seemed to guard
Mystique like a treasured secret.
I went around the corner and down a dimly lit alley. The
brick building beside Karma Moon had grimy barred windows. A security light
over the partially open back door illuminated the entrance and shone on a
planter-box with thriving greenery.
The rusty dumpster leaking unidentifiable fluid at the end
of the alley banged into the wall. Startled, I yelped.
A Hispanic woman stepped into the light. Not much makeup,
nor style to her smooth black hair. Her wrinkled blouse matched the color of
her violet lipstick, and she had on plaid flannel pants that resembled a picnic
table, with…tie-dye clogs.
“You startled me,” I said, placing a hand over my thudding
heart.
The woman snickered, the sound making the little hairs on my
skin raise. She tightly clutched a purse in both hands, as if at any moment, it
would sprout legs and run off.
I dragged in a deep, steadying breath. “The shop’s closed
for the night—”
“I know that, Captain Obvious.” Her voice was unnaturally
loud in the stillness. “And sorry for the jump scare. Girl scouts honor. Cross
my heart and hope to die.”
An icy pressure on my neck grew colder the longer I stared
at the woman. She was lying. The Crocs-wearer wasn’t remorseful in the
slightest.
A headache bloomed behind my eyes. Just my luck—my freaky,
truth-detecting psychic gift came with the worst side effect ever. Lies often
felt like brain freeze, and if I caught too many fibs in one conversation?
Hello, migraine.
"What brings you to this charming back alley?”
She pointed a finger at me. “Ah, so you must be Danika
Dreary, the flaky granddaughter that Elsie’s always talking about.”
“And you are? How do you know my grandma?”
The woman harrumphed. “I’m Angela, her very best client. The
one who's actually been around for her—unlike you.”
Heat crept up my neck, and I clenched my fists. Ouch.
That stung more than I cared to admit.
The nerve of this woman, shaming me like that. If my grandma
needed me, I was only a phone call away. We had our weekly Sunday night chats,
and it was one of the few things I genuinely looked forward to. Heck, I even
had her on speed dial. I called it Insta-Gram.
Why did I care what some random fashion victim thought of
me, anyway?
Angela curled her lip. “Where’s the stick pins?" She
shook her head. "Well, color me unimpressed. Clearly, you're not taking
this seriously!” She darted out of the alley, the darkness swallowing her up
like a frog gulping down a fly.
Stick pins? That woman was a few cards short of a tarot
deck.
Shaking my head, I stepped through the open door into the
storeroom, and flicked the switch to turn on the overhead light. Dusty shelves
adorned one gray wall stocked with an assortment of kitschy merchandise and
meditation books. The hardwood flooring showed signs of wear and warping. The
room held the musty odor of an unused attic. A desktop computer, printer, and
accounting ledger perched on a desk in the corner.
I shut the back door. “Nana? It’s Danika.”
Moving further into the room, I stood beside a gurgling
water cooler near a bench backed up against the wall.
Footfalls creaked from overhead. I swiveled toward the
wrought-iron spiral staircase that led to a two-bedroom apartment above Karma
Moon, taking up the whole second floor.
“Hello, sweetheart.” An affectionate smile graced Grandma
Elsie’s lips as she descended the stairs. In one fist, she clutched a rabbit’s
foot, her good luck talisman.
The sight of her familiar face instantly soothed my frazzled
nerves. But the rabbit's foot in her hand sent a different message. Was she
worried about something? Or just her usual superstitious self?
“You shouldn’t leave the back door open,” I said.
She glanced at the entrance and rubbed her thumb over the
furry foot. “I thought I’d locked it after my last client left.”
I had to ask. “Matchmaking or tarot card reading?”
Grandma Elsie smirked. “A mixture of both.”
While she examined the locks on the door, I looked her over.
Elsie Dreary was in her early sixties, yet appeared much younger. She had
short, sunflower-blonde hair with soft bangs that swooped over cornflower-blue
eyes and flaunted the striking symmetry of her face. I grinned at her purple
fleece pajamas with a cupcake print under a plush robe and fluffy slippers.
Wearing oddball PJs was one of her adorable quirks.
My own outfit wasn’t quite as charming: an oversized sweater
paired with black leggings and scuffed UGG boots.
Grandma Elsie faced me and we hugged. Her fragrance of
gardenias and talcum powder crowded my nose and made me smile. I held her
tight, feeling that sense of dread ebb away.
“I’ve missed you so much.” She slipped the rabbit foot into
her robe pocket.
“I’ve missed you, too.”
Grandma Elsie pushed back, holding onto my upper arms and
giving me a critical once-over. “Let me take a look at you.” She tilted her
head and squinted. “What’s with the pink hair?”
Wavy pink-colored hair fell over my shoulders and framed my
blue eyes and pale complexion. “It’s breakup therapy. Some women go on shopping
sprees, others binge on ice cream—I color my hair.”
A therapist was expensive. A box of hair dye was only ten
bucks.
Her grin faltered. “I knew you were wasting your life in
Modesto with that jerk.”
Ah, the comfort and support of loved ones. I knew coming
here I was in for a lecture, I just thought I’d be able to unpack first.
My shoulders sagged. “What do you want me to say? That you
were right? Fine. I guess douche-y men are my kryptonite.”
Now I bet you’re wondering how I ended up here.
My grand exit from Modesto had been a certified dumpster
fire. First, I kneed my handsy boss in the groin after he decided my breast was
company property. Even now, the memory made me want to take a scalding shower.
Then, because the universe wasn't done with me, I caught my boyfriend's phone
lighting up with sexy selfies—courtesy of my roommate. The grand finale? Coming
home to find my belongings stuffed into my Mini-Cooper. At least they'd been
thoughtful enough to pack for me.
Don’t worry, I didn’t key my roommate’s car or sneak into my
ex’s apartment to swap his shampoo with hair removal, although the thought did
occur to me.
With no other job prospects or places to live, I didn’t have
much choice in moving here. Who else would take in an unemployed, homeless
thirty-three-year-old?
A sympathetic grandma, that’s who.
“Oh, sweetheart.” She gave me another hug before stepping
back. “You okay?”
My head drooped. “Fair to partly cloudy. But seriously, I’m
fine. Really,” I said and meant it. My ex and I had only dated for three months
so it wasn’t serious, and it was the betrayal that hurt more.
“I’m sorry things didn’t work out,” she said. “But you
should take responsibility for your life choices.”
My skin flushed and I raised my head. “I know. I just need
time to figure things out.”
Grandma Elsie grunted. “You’ve been saying that for years.
You quit every job you get within six months. You live a nomad existence. And
you date unworthy men…Danika, I just want you to be happy.”
My inability to keep a job was not a trait I was entirely
proud of. I might not be happy, but I was attempting to carve out my own niche
in the world, and I was still searching for my true calling—whatever that might
be.
Grandma Elsie sat on the bench and patted the spot beside
her. I plopped down and sighed.
She laid a hand on my arm with a twinkle in her
eye. “I told you several years ago that your soulmate was out there. In fact,
you’re going to meet him very soon.”
While I wasn’t heartbroken over my recent breakup, I’d sworn
not to date for at least a year. Or maybe never, ever again, you get the point.
I rolled my eyes. “No fixing me up while I’m here, okay?”
She puckered her lips. “Love is one of the greatest gifts
you can receive, and I take immense pride in finding it for others.”
“You would believe that,” I teased. “You’ve been married
four times!”
Her expression softened, along with her voice. “True, and
your grandfather—rest his soul—was the love of my life. None of my other three
husbands ever measured up, but it’s high time you settled down.” She sat
up and narrowed her stare at me. “Danika Elizabeth Dreary, you are a smart,
capable, sensitive woman. And you’ve always had a job at Karma Moon.” She
patted my knee. “Deep down, you must realize that this is where you truly
belong, what you were destined to do—”
“Time out.” I held up one hand. “While I’m grateful to you
for taking me in, selling retail is not my life’s ambition. But while I’m
here, I’ll help out.”
Grandma Elsie curtly nodded. “Good. I would expect no less,
and who knows? Maybe you’ll find that you like working at Karma Moon.”
My heart squeezed. I wasn’t being very appreciative of her
goodwill. No reason to tell her that I only intended to stick around long
enough for my bad luck to remedy itself. And I just needed to save up enough
money to live on my own and find another job. I had no plans to stay in town and
work in retail.
My grandma got to her feet. “Let’s get you settled into your
old room…” Her voice faded and she froze. Her gaze widened as it roamed over
the inventory lining the shelves. “Oh, no. No!”
“Nana? What’s wrong?”
“This is bad. Very, very bad.” Her forehead creased.
“A love potion and voodoo doll are missing. Look, there’s an empty space on the
shelf.”
Grandma Elsie went to the storeroom shelves, frantically
moving around bottles, candles, and sticks of incense. A plume of dust rose and
tickled my nose.
I fought a sneeze. “I thought those things were harmless.”
“The potions are to some extent.” She kept rummaging through
the items. “More of the placebo effect, but anyone who steals a voodoo doll has
nefarious intentions. The dolls are reserved for select clients only. “
“Any idea who might’ve taken them?”
Grandma Elsie paused. “Possibly a client of mine, Angela
Hernández. She left just before you arrived. The poor woman is infatuated with
a gentleman in town, and refuses to believe that her soulmate is not the man
she’s in love with.”
My lips twitched. “And you know this how?”
She tapped the side of her temple with a smirk. “My psychic intuition,
of course.”
“Of course,” I teased. “I saw Miss Sticky-Fingers outside in
the alley.” I briefly described the woman and our peculiar exchange, along with
Angela saying the weirdness about stick pins.
Grandma Elsie pulled the robe tighter around her slender
frame. “I gave Angela an afterhours tarot reading tonight because she said it
was an emergency, but she wasn’t happy with the outcome.”
“Why would Angela take a love potion and voodoo doll?”
She raked a hand through her hair, the blonde strands
standing up wildly. “I’m afraid by stealing the voodoo doll, she intends to hex
the man’s girlfriend, and then use the love potion on him.”
“Do you want to call the police?”
Grandma Elsie shook her head. “Over two missing items? It’s
not worth the trouble. I’ll contact Angela in the morning to sort this all out…but,
ah, bad things do happen in threes.”
“That’s just superstitious nonsense.” I placed an arm around
her. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”
“Maybe, but Angela is desperate, and desperate people do
dangerous things.”
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